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say, and I'll be back in a few minutes."
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He walked out into the farmyard, taking several deep breaths of the fresh, cold air, trying
to dispel the nauseous taste of death that still lingered on his palate. His boots crunched
in the frozen snow as he walked to a vantage point beyond what had once been a
carefully tended vegetable garden, waving both hands to bring the others down.
"HORSE TRAILERS ARE excellent for what we want," said Nanci. "Big double ones.
Best thing around. Folks can't see in them, but we can see out. Good to shoot from cover.
We can get five in one and six in the other."
"The McGills versus the rest," said Jeanne. "That all right with everyone?"
Nobody disagreed.
Paul looked at the house. "Lotta dead in there?"
Jim nodded. "Dozens, son."
Carrie looked around her. "Someone has to go in and bring out some blankets."
"What?" Jim shook his head. "No way. They'll be tainted with the stink of death."
"She's right," said Nanci. "Those horse trailers don't have any heating. Even if we pack
together with the sleeping bags and what we've got, there's still a good chance that we'll
just freeze. Jeff, you and Paul and Heather go in and bring out as much stuff as we need."
"Not Heather."
"I'm fine, Dad. Seen a lot of death, remember."
He nodded. "Sure, kitten& Heather. But don't stay in there too long."
"And see if there's some good outdoor coats and gloves and stuff," shouted Mac, turning
off the second tractor engine. "Driving for hours in those little cabs is going to be tough,
real exposed work."
The oldest of the McGill children stomped off toward what had been the living quarters
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for the commune, followed by Heather Hilton. Jeff Thomas trailed a few yards behind
them.
Jocelyn McGill sat on a bale of straw, cradling her little sister. "Sukie's not too good
again, Dad," she said. "Feels real hot, and her breathing's kind of raspy."
Mac walked over from the tractors and stooped, laying a hand on the little girl's forehead.
"Not too good," he agreed. "Can you take a look, Carrie?"
The skinny young blond woman joined him. "Certainly hot. It looked like she was getting
over it, but now I'm not sure. All we can do is monitor her, Mac. Make sure she drinks
plenty of water to stop her dehydrating."
Through the open doors of the big outbuilding they saw Jeff Thomas come out of the
house at a stumbling run, dropping to hands and knees in the trodden snow. He threw up
copiously, face as pale as parchment.
Nanci sniffed and turned away contemptuously. "The best surprise is no surprise," she
said.
There wasn't a lot of spare fuel in the barns, but they managed to fill enough cans to get
them a good way on their odyssey toward the north.
It was obvious that one of the reasons for the collective act of suicide had been
starvation. The kitchens and larders of the commune were almost completely bare of
food and drink. Jim went scouting, finding that the smell of the dead was less oppressive
away from the front part of the house. He discovered some dried meat hanging from
hooks in a cold scullery, as well as a few cans of peas and beans.
By the time he came out again into the cold air, the packing of the trailers was almost
complete. Mac and Paul had given the engines of the two tractors as thorough a check as
they could in the time available.
Jeanne was nursing little Sukie on her lap, brushing a strand of hair from the girl's damp
forehead. She looked up as Jim came back into the barn.
"Worse, Jim," she said.
Carrie looked around, holding a pile of plaid blankets. "Could do with antibiotics. Nanci
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went inside and checked out the house, but it seems they didn't believe in medicine. More
in the power of prayer."
"Right," said Nanci Simms briskly. "And look where that got them."
Jim knelt down and peered at the child. Her eyes were swollen from weeping, and a
thread of green snot was dangling from her nose. She was breathing fast and shallow, and
it didn't seem as if she was focusing properly.
"I don't know," he said.
Carrie had settled the bedding into the second of the horse trailers and rejoined them by
the sick girl. "Could be anything. Since we landed back here on Earth, I've seen the
symptoms of all sorts of sickness. Stuff that had almost gone from the United States
before Earthblood came along. Typhoid and cholera have gotten a real big hold."
"Think it's one of those?" asked Jeanne, her voice ragged with worry.
"Might be. All we can do is hit the road and look out for a pharmacy and pray it hasn't
been raided."
After last-minute double checks, they were ready to move. Jim drove the first tractor,
picking his way carefully along the farm trail, then making a right when he reached the
blacktop. The huge ribbed wheels made light work on the snow, which became wetter as
they headed a little closer to the ocean. The sky had been clear for some time, though
there were threatening banks of cloud to the east and north. The cab was reasonably
protected, but daggers of the cold wind came through a number of gaps, making him glad
for the fleece-lined gloves and the woolen cap with the earflaps. But he still couldn't rid
his nostrils of the heavy smell of multiple death.
Paul was at the wheel of the McGill part of the convoy, perched high, giving Jim a wave
if he caught him looking around.
Now that all the survivors were together, Jim found that he could actually relax a little.
There were still some problems, large and small. The illness of Sukie McGill, and the
doubts about the reliability of the enigmatic Jeff Thomas. Not to mention the powerful
presence of Nanci Simms with the help and the threat that she represented.
But there were some big pluses.
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