Dies the Fire

She shivered. When she spoke again her voice was flat with dread. "Mike… it's probably a lot worse than we've seen, back on the coast, anywhere with cities, isn't it?"

"Worse isn't the word. There probably aren't any words. And it'll all get worse before it gets better," he said grimly. "Your dad thinks that by this time next year, there won't be more than ten, maybe twenty million people at most left in the whole of North America, from Guatemala to Hudson's Bay."

My, you know how to sweet-talk a girl, don't you, Havel? he asked himself.

All the while his eyes had been moving around them; so had Signe's, come to that. The road wound and turned as it climbed, and sometimes the hillsides rose almost cliff-steep beside them. He checked his precious wind-up watch and looked behind them; a mirror-flash came at the edge of sight, just one quick blink. Impossible to tell from sunlight on a broken bottle or a bit of quartz, if you didn't know what to look for.

That's comforting, he thought. Nice to know help is on hand.

It was another five hours until sunset, and then he'd have to figure out a different trick. He wasn't going to try this in darkness, when nobody could see what was happening or rush to the rescue.

And even in daylight, it's not all that comforting. The rest have to hang well back if they're not going to be spotted.

"Mike!" Signe said. His head came around. "Up ahead!"

He saw only a moving dot, but Signe had unusually keen eyes. He thought for an instant, then decided to take a chance; binoculars were not something any i

Man on a bike, he thought. Then: Correction. Kid on a bike. About ten, and a boy, I think. Also he's bleeding, and looking over his shoulder. I think some genuine bait got in ahead of us.

"That's torn it," he said grimly. "All right, everyone out."

Signe pulled on the reins. Havel switched aside his broad-brimmed hat, pulled the loose shirt that concealed his armor over his head, and clapped on his helmet. Pamela and Eric were out from under the tarpaulin in less time, red-faced and sweating but fully equipped; Pam was in one-third of their current store of chain hauberks, Eric in leather like his sister. They unhitched the horses from the wagon's traces and saddled them while Havel jumped down to the pavement, grunting a little as his boots hit and the mail clashed. It wasn't that the armor was too heavy to run and leap in…

… it's just that when I do, it's like being thirty years older.

The boy gave a cry when he saw them waiting and tried to stop, wobbled, and went over.

"Canteen," Havel said; Pamela tossed him one, and he went over to where the slight body rested under the cycle. One wheel still spun.

Havel hooked the broken machine off with a toe, sending it clattering down the steepish slope to their left. He'd been right; it was a boy about ten, with a big shock of sun-streaked brown hair, ski

Christ, you have to learn a whole new way of moving in this stuff.

Pamela came up on the other side, evidently thinking the same thing from the cautious way she moved.

"Easy, kid," Havel said, as she put a hand under his head.

The adolescent wasn't really unconscious, just stu

"They hurt my mom," he said. "They-"

"Son, calm down," Havel said, his voice firm and strong, but not shouting. "Take it from the top. I need to know what's going on, and fast."

The boy closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then opened them again. "We-my family and our neighbors- we were traveling east, out of Lewiston, to get away from the sickness."

Havel's eyes narrowed; Pamela's hands moved with quick skill, checking for temperature and swollen glands.

"Nobody happened to mention that about Lewiston, did they?" she said angrily; then she shook her head, smiling a little in relief, and Havel blew out his cheeks with a whoosh. Medicines were getting scarce.

The boy went on:

"We don't have it! But a lot of people did. We got out a week ago, and we were traveling, going to my uncle's farm outside Kooskia. But we stopped, and they… they… " He started to shake again.

Havel gave him more water, and leaned closer to look into his eyes: "How many? Mounted, or on foot? What happened, and where did they go?"

"A lot-a dozen, maybe. I didn't see any horses. They were all around us, and I just-I saw one of them hit Mom with an ax, and I just got on my bike and went. Please, mister, you've got to help! I just ran away. I ran away from them all."

He started to cry.

"Ru

Havel looked up at Pamela when he had all the information they could muster; the ambush had taken place about two miles west, well uphill, and just where the road cut through the edge of the plateau. He closed his eyes for a second, calling up the terrain map of the area he'd studied.

"He's undernourished and dehydrated and he's got cooties, but otherwise fine, far as I can tell," Pamela said. "If his party had been on the road for a week, chances are they're clean."

He stood, thinking, weighing distances. "All right, this has fucked up Plan Number One to hell and gone. We've got to keep in contact or they'll get away again. Signe, light the signal and stay with the kid-that's an order! – until the rest of the A-list gets here. We'll leave sign; follow at speed. Keep an arrow on your string until the cavalry arrive and get ready to run if you have to."

He picked the boy up, laying him on the tarpaulin in the back of the wagon.

"Eric, Pam, equipment check. Then water the horses, all they'll drink. Double canteens, take nothing but water, armor and weapons."

Pam pulled out three bundled smocks. Havel groaned inwardly at the thought of putting on another layer, but the thin cotton surcoats were sewn with patches, camouflage-patterned in gray and brown and sage green, better disguise than even the most carefully browned metal. They pulled them on, buckled their sword belts over the cloth and swung into the saddle, giving each other's gear a quick once-over.

Signe already had the smudge pot out on the road and lit, and a column of black-orange smoke rose to the sky. That would tell Will and the rest of the mounted backup Come at speed.

Havel leaned down in the saddle on an impulse; Signe turned, startled, and her eyes flew wide when he gave her a brief hard kiss. He gri

"Follow me!"

Hooves thundered, spitting gravel behind them; some of it hit the smudge pot with a sharp metallic tinking.

Havel leaned far over in the saddle to study the marks by the side of the road. Damn, but I'm better than I was, on horseback. Well, a month of continuous practice…

"Bikes and a cart with bicycle wheels," he said.