Crater Lake

"Thinking how well that'd burn, Doc?"

To his surprise, he saw that the old man was weeping, silent tears coursing through the gray stubble on his lined cheeks.

"Hey, Doc, what's wrong?"

"What's up, Doc, is what you should say, Ryan. That was the old joke. Buggy the Bu

"You mean like wanting old times back?"

"More than you know, my dear fellow. Oh, more than you know. That picture brings back such a flood of memories. Oh, the days and evenings with dear Emily."

"Who's Emily?"

They were alone. The others were scavenging around outside before darkness made it too dangerous to move in the open. Ryan looked up at the calendar, wondering what had triggered the old-timer off on one of his lack-brained trips into the past.

The calendar had a name on it. Currier and Ives. There was a large fireplace in the print, with logs blazing merrily in it, and there was a pine tree in a tub, decorated with ornamental candles in a way that seemed dangerous to Ryan. Pretty parcels were scattered around the bottom of the tree, each wrapped in bright paper and tied with ribbons of silk. The mantel was busy with vases and spelter statues of men on horseback, and over the mantel was a large painting. When Ryan peered more closely at the painting, he saw that it was a reproduction of the main picture — a fireplace with a tree in a tub. And over the mantel was a picture of a room with a fire and a tree and a picture over the mantel...

Doc Ta

"Who is Emily, Ryan?"

"Yeah. Heard you mention the name 'fore this, Doc. Someone you know?"

"I knew her, Ryan. A woman of excellent wit and beauty. One day I will tell you... But not now. It was this picture. I can hear those logs as they crackle and spit. Smell the freshness of the pine needles. Hear the excited laughter of young children as they wait to open the presents that jolly Saint Nicholas has sent them. The family parlor at Christmas. Damp moss and dry leaves. Bellado

Embarrassed by this flood of memories, Ryan turned to look out the broken panes of glass to where the rest of the group was gathering wood to burn. And yet he was still deeply puzzled by the things Doc had said. Things that Ryan had never known. Things that seemed to him to come from such an antique past that it wasn't conceivable that Doc Ta

It wasn't possible.

Despite all their efforts, the fire was proving stubborn to light. Most of the wood was damp and green, and nearly all the kindling they found was also wet. At Krysty's suggestion they tried the calendar, though Doc Ta

"How 'bout that?" Jak Lauren asked, pointing to the wood-framed counter that was built into the wall.

"Break it up, Whitey," Fi

The ski

He took a couple of paces back, closing his pink eyes for a moment in concentration. The other six watched him closely. Ryan in particular was fascinated that such a frail body could harness such devastating power. It wasn't anything mystical, in the way that Krysty could fold her mind inward and draw on the force of the Earth Mother, Gaia. This was simply a great skill.

Jak gave a single, explosive grunt and lashed out with his foot, the whole front of the counter caved in, splitting lengthways as if a chainsaw had ripped through it. Without a pause, like a dancer, Jak wheeled on the other foot and kicked again. This time the entire left side fell away from the wall, leaving only one part still attached. A third kick demolished that.

"Fucking fan-fucking-tastic!" Fi

"What's that?" Lori asked.

"Where?" J.B. said, moving to help Fi

"There. The hole in the wall. It was hidden before by the wood."

The Armorer stepped over the wreckage of the counter and stooped where the girl was pointing. Then he spotted the shadowy hole that was no bigger than a couple of house bricks. "Something here."

"What?"

"Box. No, a tin, Ryan."

"Could be boobied, J.B. Watch it."

"Too well hid. Looks like it's been here since the big fires."

There was the scraping of metal on concrete as he eased the tin box from its hiding place and laid it on the floor near the shards of wood. They gathered around it, their need for a fire momentarily forgotten, even though the temperature had fallen so fast and so low that the gas station seemed filled with the mist of their warm breath.

"Got a lock," J.B. said.

"I'll blast the bastard apart. One round from the Beretta'll open it up like cracking an egg," Fi

"Why not just try and lift the lid first?" Ryan suggested. It was open.

J.B. looked inside, then handed it to Jak. "Here, kid. You found it. You can have it." He winked over his shoulder at Ryan.

"I saw it," Lori said.

"I'll split it with you," the albino replied, carrying it to where the poor fire coughed and spluttered fitfully. It was the only light they had, apart from the pallid moon that sailed above them in a sky speckled by the remains of the chem-storm.

"What is it?" Fi

It was a wad of paper. A couple of hundred small sheets, around five inches by three, with the rotted remains of an elastic band around them. Jak took them out, riffling them through his fingers. Dust flew off their edges, and they made a dry, flaking sound. Ryan suddenly guessed what it was. "Open them up," he said.

"Pictures," Lori said. "Pictures and numbers. I can do numbers. There's a ten and that's a hundred and a twenty and another ten."

"It's old jack," the boy said disgustedly. "Seen lots around West Lowellton. Left around. In wallets and pockets and bags. Dollars. Isn't that right?"

"Sure is, son," Doc Ta

"Not worth shit now," Fi

"Wrong, Fats," Jak said, gri