Tanner did this thing while the other talked.

"You wanted to kill us all, didn't you? Then you couldhave cut out and gone your way, like you tried to doyesterday. Isn't that right?"

"You said it, mister, not me.""It's true, though. You don't give a good goddamn ifeverybody in Boston croaks, do you?"

"My gun's unloaded now," said Tanner.

"Then get back in your bloody buggy and get goingi111 be behind you all the way!"

Tanner walked back toward his car. He heard theothers arguing behind him, but he didn't think they'dshoot him. As he was about to climb up into the cab, hesaw a shadow out of the corner of his eye and turnedquickly.

The man named Greg was standing behind him, talland quiet as a ghost.

"Want me to drive awhile?" he asked Tanner, withoutexpression.

"No, you rest up. I'm still in good shape. Later on thisafternoon, maybe, if you feel up to it."

The man nodded and rounded the cab. He enteredfrom the other side and immediately reclined his chair.

Tanner slammed his door and started the engine. Heheard the air conditioner come to life.

"Want to reload this?" he asked. "And put it back onthe rack?" And he handed the rifle and the ammo to theother, who had nodded. He drew on his gloves then andsaid, "There's plenty of soft drinks in the 'frig. Nothingmuch else, though," and the other nodded again. Then heheard car three start and said, "Might as well roll," andhe put it into gear and took his foot off the clutch.

VI After they had driven for about half an hour, the mancalled Greg said to him, "Is it true what Marlowe said?"

"What's a Marlowe?"

"He's driving the other car. Were you trying to kill us?Do you really want to skip out?"

Hell laughed. "That's right," he said. "You named it."

-Why?"

Hell let it hang there for a minute, then said, ."Whyshouldn't I? I'm not anxious to die. I'd like to wait a longtime before I try that bit."

Greg said, "If we don't make it, the population of thecontinent may be cut in half."

"If it's a question of them or me, I'd rather it wasthem.""I sometimes wonder how people like you happen."

"The same way as anybody else, mister, and it's funfor a couple people for awhile, and then the troublestarts."

"What did they ever do to you. Hell?"

"Nothing. What did they ever do for me? Nothing.Nothing. What do I owe them? The same."

"Why'd you stomp your brother back at the Hall?"

"Because I didn't want him doing a damfool thing likethis and getting himself killed. Cracked ribs he can getover. Death is a more permanent ailment."

"That's not what I asked you. I mean, what do youcare whether he croaks?"

"He's a good kid, that's why. He's got a thing for thischick, though, and he can't see straight."

"So what's it to you?"

"Like I said, he's my brother and he's a good kid. Ilike him."

"How come?"

"Oh, hell! We've been through a lot together, that'sall! What are you trying to do? Psychoanalyze me?"

"I was just curious, that's all."

"So now you know. Talk about something else if youwant to talk, okay?"

"Okay. You've been this way before, right?"

"That's right."

"You been any further east?"

"I've been all the way to the Missus Hip."

"Do you know a way to get across it?"

"I think so. The bridge is still up at Saint Louis."

"Why didn't you go across it the last time you werethere?"

"Are you kidding? The thing's packed with cars fullof bones. It wasn't worth the trouble to try and clear it"

"Why'd you go that far in the first place?"

"Just to see what it was like. I heard all thesestories—'*

"What was it like?"

"A lot of crap. Burned down towns, big craters, crazyanimals, some people—"

"People? People still live there?"

"If you want to call them that. They're all wild andscrewed up. They wear rags or animal skins or they gonaked. They threw rocks at me till I shot a couple. Thenthey let me alone."

"How long ago was that?"

"Six—maybe seven years ago. I was just a kid then.'*

"How come you never told anybody about it?"

"I did. A coupla my friends. Nobody else ever askedme. We were going to go out there and grab off a coupleof the girls and bring them back, but everybody chickenedout."

"What would you have done with them?"

Tanner shrugged. "I dunno. Sell 'em, I guess."

"You guys used to do that, down on the Barbary Coast—sell people, I mean—didn't you?"

Tanner shrugged again.

"Used to," he said, "before the Big Raid."

"How'd you manage to live through that? I thoughtthey'd cleaned the whole place out?"

"I was doing time," he said. "A.D.W."

"What's that?"

"Assault with a deadly weapon."

"What'd you do after they let you go?"

"I let them rehabilitate me. They got me a job runningthe mail."

"Oh yeah, I heard about that. Didn't realize it was you,though. You were supposed to be pretty good—doing allright and ready for a promotion. Then you kicked yourboss around and lost your job. How come?"

"He was always riding me about my record and aboutmy old gang down on the Coast. Finally, one day I toldhim to lay off, and he laughed at me, so I hit him with achain. Knocked out the bastard's front teeth. I'd do itagain."

"Too bad."

"I was the best driver he had. It was his loss. Nobodyelse will make the Albuquerque run, not even today. Notunless they really need the money."

"Did you like the work, though, while you were doingit?"

"Yeah, I like to drive."

"You should probably have asked for a transfer whenthe guy started bugging you."

"I know. If it was happening today, that's probablywhat I'd do. I was mad, though, and I used to get mad alot faster than I do now. I think I'm smarter these daysthan I was before."

"If you make it on this run and you go home afterward, you'll probably be able to get your job back. Thinkyou'd take it?"

"In the first place," said Tanner, "I don't think we'llmake it. And in the second, if we do make it and there'sstill people around that town, I think I'd rather stay therethan go back."

Greg nodded. "Might be smart. You'd be a hero.Nobody'd know much about your record. Somebody'dturn you onto something good."

"The hell with heroes," said Tanner.

"Me, though, I'll go back if we make it."

"Sail 'round Cape Horn?"

"That's right."

"Might be fun. But why go back?"

"I've got an old mother and a mess of brothers andsisters I take care of, and I've got a girl back there."

Tanner brightened the screen as the sky began todarken.

"What's your mother like?"

"Nice old lady. Raised the eight of us. Got arthritisbad now, though."

"What was she like when you were a kid?"

"She used to work during the day, but she cooked ourmeals and sometimes brought us candy. She made a lotof our clothes. She used to tell us stories, like about howthings were before the war. She played games with usand sometimes she gave us toys."

"How about your old man?" Tanner asked him, afterawhile.

"He drank pretty heavy and he had a lot of jobs, buthe never beat us too much. He was all right. He got runover by a car when I was around twelve."

"And you take care of everybody now?"

"Yeah. I'm the oldest."

"What is it that you do?"

"I've got your old job. I run the mail to Albuquerque."

"Are you kidding?"

"No."

"I'll be damned! Is German still the supervisor?"

"He retired last year, on disability."

"I'll be damned! That's funny. Listen, down in Albuquerque do you ever go to a bar called Pedro's?"

"I've been there."

"Have they still got a little blonde girl plays the piano?Named Margaret?"

"No."

"Oh."

"They've got some guy now. Fat fellow. Wears a bigring on his left hand."