Two bikes were moving about him, and there weremany dead people upon the road, He struggled to rise again, was knocked off his feet.

Big Brother rode one of the bikes, and a guy he hadn'tseen rode the other.

He crawled to the right, and there was pain in his -fingertips as the tires passed over them.

But he saw a rock and waited till a driver was near.Then he stood again and threw himself upon the manas he passed, the rock he had seized rising and falling,once, in his right hand. He was carried along as this oc-curred, and as he fell he felt the second bike strike him.

There were terrible pains in his side, and his bodyfelt broken, but he reached out even as this occurred andcaught hold of a strut on the side of the bike and wasdragged along by it.

Before he had been dragged ten feet. he had drawnhis SS dagger from his boot. He struck upward and felt athin metal wall give way. Then his hands came loose,and he fell and he smelled the gasoline. His hand doveinto his jacket pocket and came out with the Zippo.

He had struck the tank on the side of Big Brother'sbike, and it jetted forth its contents on the road. Twentyfeet ahead. Big Brother was turning.

Tanner held the lighter, the lighter with the raised skullof enamel, wings on either side of it. His thumb spun thewheel and the sparks leaped forth, then the flame. Hetossed it into the stream of petrol that lay before him,and -the flames raced away, tracing a blaeing trail uponthe concrete.

Big Brother had turned and was bearing down uponhim when he saw what had happened. His eyes widened,and his red-framed smile went away.

He tried to leap off his bike, but it was too late.

The exploding gas tank caught him, and he went downwith a piece of metal m his head and other pieces elsewhere.

Flames splashed over Tanner, and he beat at themfeebly with his hands.

He raised his head above the blazing carnage and letit fall again. He was bloody and weak and so very tired.He saw his own machine, standing still undamaged onthe road ahead.

He began crawling toward it.

When he reached it, he threw himself across the saddle and lay there for perhaps ten minutes. He vomitedtwice, and his pains became a steady pulsing.

After perhaps an hour, he mounted the bike andbrought it to life.

He rode for half a mile and then dizziness and thefatigue hit him.

He pulled off to the side of the road and concealedhis bike as best he could. Then he lay down upon thebare earth and slept.

XVIII When he awoke, he felt dried blood upon his side. Hisleft hand ached and was swollen. All four fingers feltstiff, and it hurt to try to bend them. His head throbbedand there was a taste of gasoline within his mouth. For along while, he was too sore to move. His beard bad beensinged, and his right eye was swollen almost shut.

"Corny ..." he said, then, "Damn!"

Everything came back, like the contents of a powerfuldream suddenly spilled into his consciousness.

He began to shiver, and there were mists all aroundhim. It was very dark, and his legs were cold; the dampness had soaked completely through his denims.

In the distance, he heard a vehicle pass. It soundedlike a car.

He managed to roll over, and he rested his head onhis forearm. It seemed to be night, but it could bea black day.

As he lay there, his mind went back to his prison cell.It seemed almost a haven now; and he thought of hisbrother Denny, who must also be hurting at this moment.He wondered if he had any cracked ribs himself. It feltlike it. And he thought of the monsters of the southwestand of dark-eyed Greg, who'had tried to chicken out.Was he still living? His mind circled back to L.A. andthe old Coast, gone, gone forever now, after the BigRaid. Then Corny walked past him, blood upon herbreasts, and he chewed his beard and held his eyes shutvery tight. They might have made it together in Boston.How far, now?

He got to his knees and crawled until he felt somethinghigh and solid. A tree. He sat with his back to it, andhis hand sought the crumpled cigarette pack within hisjacket. He drew one forth, smoothed it, then remembered that his lighter lay somewhere back on the highway. He sought through his pockets and found a dampmatchbook. The third one lit. The chill went out of hisbones as he smoked, and a wave of fever swept overhim. He coughed as he was unbuttoning his collar, andit seemed that he tasted blood.

His weapons were gone, save for the lump of a singlegrenade at his belt.

Above him, in the darkness, he heard the roaring.After six puffs, the cigarette slipped from his fingers andsizzled out upon the damp mold. His head fell forward,and there was darkness within.

There might have been a storm. He didn't remember.When he awoke, he was lying on his right side, the treeto his back. A pink afternoon sun shone down upon him,and the mists were blown away. From somewhere, heheard the sound of a bird. He managed a curse, thenrealized how dry his throat was. He suddenly burnedwith a terrible thirst.

There was a clear puddle about thirty feet away. Hecrawled to it and drank his fill. It grew muddy as he didso.

Then he crawled to where his bike lay hidden andstood beside it. He managed to seat himself upon it, andhis hands shook as he lit a cigarette.

It must have taken him an hour to reach the roadway,and he was panting heavily by then. His watch had beenbroken, so he didn't know the hour. The sun was alreadylowering at his back when he started out. The windswhipped about him, insulating his consciousness withintheir burning flow. His cargo rode securely behind him.He had visions of someone opening it and finding a batchof broken bottles. He laughed and cursed, alternately.

Several cars passed him, moving in the other direction.He had not seen any heading toward the city. The roadwas in good condition and he began to pass buildingsthat seemed in a good state of repair, though deserted.He did not stop. This time he determined not to stopfor anything, unless he was stopped.

The sun fell farther, and the sky dimmed before him.There were two black lines swaying in the heavens. Thenhe passed a sign that told him he had eighteen milesfarther to go. Ten minutes later he switched on his light.

Then he topped a hill and slowed before he began itsdescent.

There were lights below him and in the distance.

As he rushed forward, the winds brought to him thesound of a single bell, tolling over and over within thegathering dark. He sniffed a remembered thing uponthe air: it was the salt-tang of the sea.

The sun was hidden behind the hill as he descended,and he rode within the endless shadow. A single starappeared on the far horizon, between the two black belts.

Now there were lights within shadows that he passed,and the buildings moved closer together. He leanedheavily on the handlebars, and the muscles of his shoulders ached beneath his jacket He wished that he had acrash helmet, for he felt increasingly unsteady.

He must almost be there. Where would he headonce he nil the city proper? They had not told him that.

He shook his head to clear it.

The street he drove along was deserted. There wereno traffic sounds that he could hear. He blew his hom,and its echoes rolled back upon him.

There wa.s a light on in the building to his left.

He pulled to a stop, crossed the sidewalk and bangedon the door. There was no response from within. He triedthe door and found it locked. A telephone would mean hecould end his trip right there.

What if they were all dead inside? The thought occurred to him that just about everybody could be deadby now. He decided to break in. He returned to his bike.for a screwdriver, then went to work on the door.

He heard the gunshot and the sound of the engine atapproximately the same time.