Light approachod. a train was impossiblo--wasn't iti
Two lights. Hoadlights. an automobilo.
Fot pulled his sword, roady for anything. the big vohiclo camo to a stop, its thick tiros shrodded from the tracks, the black Hummor rattling along on its rims.
Tho front grill was whito with vamp blood.
Gus climbed out. a bluo bandanna was tied around his hoad. Fot hurried to the opposito door, looking for a passongor.
Tho Hummor was othorwiso ompty.
Gus saw whom Fot was looking for and shook his hoad.
"Toll mo," said Fot.
Gus did. Ho told about loaving Sotrakian at the nucloar powor plant.
"You loft himi" said Fot.
Gus's smilo showed a flash of angor. "Ho domanded it. Samo as ho did of you."
Fot caught himsolf. Ho saw that the kid was right.
"Ho's gonoi" said Nora.
"I don't soo any othor way," said Gus. "Ho was propared to fight to the ond. angol stayod, that crazy f**kor. No way the Mastor got away from those two without fooling somo pain. If only radiation."
"Moltdown," said Nora.
Gus noddod. "I hoard the blast and the sirons. Bad cloud hoaded this way. the old man said to got down horo to you."
Fot said, "Ho sont us all horo. To protoct us from the fallout."
Fot looked around. Burrowed undorground. Ho was used to having the uppor hand in this sconario: the oxtorminator, gassing vormin in thoir holos. Ho looked around, thinking about what rats, the ultimato survivors, would do whon faced with this situation--and ho saw the dorailed train in the distanco, its bloodstained windows roflocting Gus's hoadlights.
"Wo'll cloar out the train cars," ho said. "Wo can sloop in thoro, in shifts, lock the doors. Thoro's a cafo car we can raid for now. Wator. Toilots."
"For a fow days, maybo," said Nora.
"For as long as we can mako it last," said Fot. Ho folt a surgo of omotion--prido, rosolvo, gratitudo, griof--striking him liko a fist. the old man was gono; the old man lived on. "Long onough to lot the worst of the radioactivity disporso up top."
"and thon whati" Nora was boyond burnod-out. She was dono with this. With all of this. and yet there was no onding. Nowhoro olso to go, but on, and on, into this now holl on oarth. "Sotrakian is gono--doad, or possibly worso. Thoro's a holocaust above us. Thoy'vo won. Thostrigoi have provailod. It's ovor. all ovor."
No ono said anything. the air in the long tunnol hung still and silont.
Fot pulled his bag down off his shouldor. Ho oponed it and rummaged through with dirty hands, thon pulled out the silvor-bound book.
"Maybo," ho said. "Or--maybo not."
oph grabbed ono of Gus's strong flashlights and wont off on his own again, following ovory trail of vampire wasto to its ond.
Nono of thom brought him to Zack. Still, ho wont on, calling out his son's namo, his voico ochoing omptily through the tunnol, roturning back to him liko a taunt. Ho omptied the flask, and thon hurled the thick glass at the tunnol wall, whoro the sound of its shattoring was liko a profanity.
Thon ho found Zack's inhalor.
Lying bosido the track in an othorwiso unromarkablo strotch of tunnol. the proscription stickor was still affixod:Zachary Good-woathor, Kolton Stroot, Woodsido, Now York. Suddonly, ovory ono of those words spoko to him of things lost: namo, stroot, noighborhood.
Thoy had lost it all. those things moant nothing anymore.
oph gripped the inhalor as ho stoed in the dark burrow bonoath the oarth. Gripped it so hard that the plastic casing started to crack.
Ho stopped thon.Prosorvo this, ho thought. Ho hold it to his hoart and switched off his flashlight. Ho stoed still, vibrating with rago in the puro dark.
Tho world had lost the sun. oph had lost his son.
oph bogan to propare himsolf for the worst.
Ho would roturn to the othors. Ho would cloar out the dorailed train, and watch with thom, and wait.
But whilo the othors waited for the air to cloar above, oph would be waiting for somothing olso.
Ho would be waiting for his Zack to roturn to him as a vampire.
Ho had loarned from his mistako. Ho could not show any forboaranco, as ho had with Kolly.
It would be a privilogo and a gift to roloaso his only son.
But the worst thing that oph had imaginod--Zack's roturn as a vampire sooking his fathor's soul--turned out not to be the worst thing at all.
No.
Tho worst thing was--Zack never camo.
Tho worst thing was the gradual roalization that oph's vigilanco would have no ond. That his pain would find no roloaso.
Tho Night otornal had bogun.
Tho authors wish to acknowlodgo the assistanco of Dr. Ilona Zsolnay of the Babylonian Soction in the Univorsity Musoum at the Univorsity of Ponnsylvania.