"Don't mention it," and she took a drink herself and set the flask on the dash.

  "Cigarette?"

  "Just a minute."

  He lit two, passed her one.

  "There you are, Corny."

  "Thanks. I'd like to help you finish this run."

  "How come?"

  "I got nothing else to do. My crowd's all gone away, and I've got nobody else to run with now. Also, if you make it, you'll be a big man. Like capital letters. Think you might keep me around after that?"

  "Maybe. What are you like?"

  "Oh, I'm real nice. I'll even rub your shoulders for you when they're sore."

  "They're sore now."

  "I thought so. Give me a lean."

  He bent toward her, and she began to rub his shoulders. Her hands were quick and strong.

  "You do that good, girl.

  "Thanks."

  He straightened up, leaned back. Then he reached out, took the flask, and had another drink. She took a small sip when he passed it to her.

  The furies rode about them, but the bridge above stood the siege. Tanner turned off the lights.

  "Let's make it," he said, and he seized her and drew her to him.

  She did not resist him, and he found her belt buckle and unfastened it. Then he started on the buttons. After a while he reclined her seat.

  "Will you keep me?' she asked him.

  "Sure."

  "I'll help you. I'll do anything you say to get you through.'

  "Great."

  "After all, if Boston goes, then we go too."

  "You bet."

  Then they didn't say much more.

  There was violence in the skies, and after that came darkness and quiet.

  When Tanner awoke, it was morning, and the storm had ceased. He repaired himself to the rear of the vehicle and after that assumed the driver's seat once more.

  Cornelia did not awaken as he gunned the engine to life and started up the weed-infested slope of the hillside.

  The sky was light once more, and the road was strewn with rubble. Tanner wove along it, heading toward the pale sun, and after a while Cornelia stretched.

  "Ungh," she said, and Tanner agreed. "My shoulders are better now," he told her.

  "Good," and Tanner headed up a hill, slowing as the day dimmed and one huge black line became the Devil's highway down the middle of the sky.

  As he drove through a wooded valley, the rain began to fall. The girl had returned from the rear of the vehicle and was preparing breakfast when Tanner saw the tiny dot on the horizon, switched over to his telescopic lenses, and tried to outrun what he saw.

  Cornelia looked up.

  There were bikes, bikes, and more bikes on their trail.

  "Those your people?" Tanner asked.

  "No. You took mine yesterday."

  "Too bad," said Tanner, and he pushed the accelerator to the floor and hoped for a storm.

  They squealed around a curve and climbed another hill. His pursuers drew nearer. He switched back from telescopic to normal scanning, but even then he could see the size of the crowd that approached.

  "It must be the Kings," she said. "They're the biggest club around."

  "Too bad," said Tanner.

  "For them or for us?

  "Both."

  She smiled. "I'd like to see how you work this thing."

  "It looks like you're going to get a chance. They're gaining on us like mad."

  The rain lessened, but the fogs grew heavier. Tanner could see their lights, though, over a quarter-mile to his rear, and he did not turn his own on. He estimated a hundred to a hundred-fifty pursuers that cold, dark morning, and he asked, "How near are we to Boston?"

  "Maybe ninety miles," she told him.

  "Too bad they're chasing us instead of coming toward us from the front," he said, as he primed his flames and set an adjustment which brought cross-hairs into focus on his rearview screen.

  "What's that?" she asked.

  "That's a cross. I'm going to crucify them, lady," and she smiled at this and squeezed his arm.

  "Can I help? I hate those bloody mothers."

  "In a little while," said Tanner. "In a little while, I'm sure," and he reached into the rear seat and fetched out the six hand grenades and hung them on his wide, black belt. He passed the rifle to the girl. "Hang on to this," he said, and he stuck the .45 behind his belt. "Do you know how to use that thing?"

  "Yes," she replied.

  "Good."

  He kept watching the lights that danced on the screen.

  "Why the hell doesn't this storm break?" he said, as the lights came closer and he could make out shapes within the fog.

  When they were within a hundred feet, he fired the first grenade. It arced through the gray air, and five seconds later there was a bright flash to his rear, burning within a thunderclap.

  The lights immediately behind him remained, and he touched the fifty-calibers, moving the cross-hairs from side to side. The guns stuttered their loud syllables, and he launched another grenade. With the second flash, he began to climb another hill.

  "Did you stop them?"

  "For a time, maybe. I still see some lights, but they're farther back."

  After five minutes, they had reached the top, a place where the fogs were cleared and the dark sky was visible above them. Then they started downward once more, and a wall of stone and shale and dirt rose to their right. Tanner considered it as they descended.

  When the road leveled and he decided they had reached the bottom, he turned on his brightest lights and looked for a place where the road's shoulders were wide.

  To his rear, there were suddenly rows of descending lights.

  He found the place where the road was sufficiently wide, and he skidded through a U-turn until he was facing the shaggy cliff, now to his left, and his pursuers were coming dead on.

  He elevated his rockets, fired one, elevated them five degrees more, fired two, elevated them another five degrees, fired three. Then he lowered them fifteen and fired another.

  There were brightnesses within the fog, and he heard the stones rattling on the road and felt the vibration as the rockslide began. He swung toward his right as he backed the vehicle and fired two ahead. There was dust mixed with the fog now, and the vibration continued.

  He turned and headed forward once more.

  "I hope that'll hold 'em," he said, and he lit two ciga rettes and passed one to the girl.

  After five minutes they were on higher ground again, and the winds came and whipped at the fog, and far to the rear there were still some lights.

  As they topped a high rise, his radiation gauge began to register an above-normal reading. He sought in all directions and saw the crater far off ahead. "That's it," he heard her say. "You've got to leave the road there. Bear to the right and go around that way when you get there."

  "I'll do that thing."

  He heard gunshots from behind him, for the first time that day, and though he adjusted the cross-hairs, he did not fire his own weapons. The distance was still too great.

  "You must have cut them in half," she said, staring into the screen. "More than that. They're a tough bunch, though."

  "I gather," and he plowed the field of mists and checked his supply of grenades for the launcher and saw that he was running low.

  He swung off the road to his right when he began bumping along over fractured concrete. The radiation level was quite high by then. The crater was a thousand yards to his left.

  The lights to his rear fanned out, grew brighter. He drew a bead on the brightest and fired. It went out.

  "There's another down," he remarked as they raced across the hard-baked plain.

  The rains came more heavily, and he sighted on another light and fired. It, too, went out. Now, though, he heard the sounds of their weapons about him once again.

  He switched to his right-hand guns and saw the crosshairs leap into life on that screen. As three vehicles moved in to flank him from that direction, he opened up and cut them down. There was more firing on his back, and he ignored it as he negotiated the way.

  "I count twenty-seven lights," Cornelia said.

  Tanner wove his way across a field of boulders. He lit another cigarette.

  Five minutes later, they were running on both sides of him. He had held back again for that moment, to conserve ammunition and to be sure of his targets. He fired then, though, at every light within range, and he floored the accelerator and swerved around rocks.

  "Five of them are down," she said, but he was listening to the gunfire.

  He launched a grenade to the rear, and when he tried to launch a second, there came only a clicking sound from the control. He launched one to either side.

  "If they get close enough, I'll show them some fire," he said, and they continued on around the crater.

  He fired only at individual targets then, when he was certain they were within range. He took two more before he struck the broken roadbed.

  "Keep running parallel to it," she told him. "There's a trail here. You can't drive on that stuff till another mile or so."

  Shots ricocheted from off his armored sides, and he continued to return the fire. He raced along an alleyway of twisted trees, like those he had seen near other craters, and the mists hung like pennons about their branches. He heard the rattle of the increasing rains.

  When he hit the roadway once again, he regarded the lights to his rear and asked, "How many do you count now?"

  "It looks like around twenty. How are we doing?"

  "I'm just worried about the tires. They can take a lot, but they can be shot out. The only other thing that bothers me is that a stray shot might clip one of the 'eyes.' Outside of that, we're bulletproof enough. Even if they manage to stop us, they'll have to pry us out."

  The bikes drew near once again, and he saw the bright flashes and heard the reports of the riders' guns.

  "Hold tight," he said, and he hit the brakes, and they skidded on the wet pavement.

  The lights grew suddenly bright, and he unleashed his rear flame. As some bikes skirted him, he cut in the side flames and held them that way.

  Then he took his foot off the brake and floored the accelerator without waiting to assess the damage he had done.

  They sped ahead, and Tanner heard Cornelia's laughter.

  "God! You're taking them, Hell! You're taking the whole damn club!"

  "It ain't that much fun," he said. Then, "See any lights?"

  She watched for a time, said, "No," then said, "Three," then, "Seven," and finally, "Thirteen.'

  Tanner said, "Damn."

  The radiation level fell, and there came crashes amid the roaring overhead. A light fall of gravel descended for perhaps half a minute, along with the rain.

  "We're running low," he said.

  "On what?"

  "Everything, luck, fuel, ammo. Maybe you'd have been better off if I'd left you where I found you."

  "No," she said. "I'm with you, the whole line."

  "Then you're nuts," he said. "I haven't been hurt yet. When I am, it might be a different tune."

  "Maybe," she said. "Wait and hear how I sing."

  He reached out and squeezed her thigh.

  "Okay, Corny. You've been okay so far. Hang on to that piece, and we'll see what happens."

  He reached for another cigarette, found the pack empty, cursed. He gestured toward a compartment, and she opened it and got him a fresh pack. She tore it open and lit him one.

  "Thanks."

  "Why're they staying out of range?"

  "Maybe they're just going to pace us. I don't know."

  Then the fogs began to lift. By the time Tanner had finished his cigarette, the visibility had improved greatly. He could make out the dark forms crouched atop their bikes, following, following, nothing more.

  "If they just want to keep us company, then I don't care," he said. "Let them."

  But there came more gunfire after a time, and he heard a tire go. He slowed but continued. He took careful aim and strafed them. Several fell.

  More gunshots sounded from behind. Another tire blew, and he hit the brakes and skidded, turning about as he slowed. When he faced them, he shot his anchors, to hold him in place, and he discharged his rockets, one after another, at a level parallel to the road. He opened up with his guns and sprayed them as they veered off and approached him from the sides. Then he opened fire to the left. Then the right.

  He emptied the right-hand guns, then switched back to the left. He launched the remaining grenades.

  The gunfire died down, except for five sources, three to his left and two to his right, coming from somewhere within the trees that lined the road now. Broken bikes and bodies lay behind him, some still smoldering. The pavement was potted and cracked in many places.

  He turned the car and proceeded ahead on six wheels.

  "We're out of ammo, Corny," he told her.

  "Well, we took an awful lot of them... ."

  "Yeah."

  As he drove on, he saw five bikes move onto the road. They stayed a good distance behind him, but they stayed.

  He tried the radio, but there was no response. He hit the brakes and stopped, and the bikes stopped too, staying well to the rear.

  "Well, at least they're scared of us. They think we still have teeth."

  "We do," she said.

  "Yeah, but not the ones they're thinking about."

  "Better yet."

  "Glad I met you," said Tanner. "I can use an optimist. There must be a pony, huh?"

  She nodded, and he put it into gear and started forward.

  The motorcycles moved ahead also, and they maintained a safe distance. Tanner watched them in the screens and cursed them as they followed.

  After a while they drew nearer again. Tanner roared on for half an hour, and the remaining five edged closer and closer.

  When they drew near enough, they began to fire, rifles resting on their handlebars.

  Tanner heard several low ricochets, and then another tire went out.

  He stopped once more and the bikes did too, remaining just out of range of his flames. He cursed and ground ahead again. The car wobbled as he drove, listing to the left. A wrecked pickup truck stood smashed against a tree to his right, its hunched driver a skeleton, its windows smashed and tires missing. Half a sun now stood in the heavens, reaching after nine o'clock; fog-ghosts drifted before them, and the dark band in the sky undulated, and more rain fell from it, mixed with dust and small stones and bits of metal. Tanner said, "Good," as the pinging sounds began, and, "Hope it gets a lot worse," and his wish came true as the ground began to shake and the blue light began in the north. There came a booming within the roar, and there were several answering crashes as heaps of rubble appeared to his right. "Hope the next one falls right on our buddies back there," he said.

  He saw an orange glow ahead and to his right. It had been there for several minutes, but he had not become conscious of it until just then.

  "Volcano," she said when he indicated it. "It means we've got another sixty-five, seventy miles to go."

  He could not tell whether any more shooting was occurring. The sounds coming from overhead and around him were sufficient to mask any gunfire, and the fall of gravel upon the car covered any ricocheting rounds. The five headlights to his rear maintained their pace.

  "Why don't they give up?" he said. "They're taking a pretty bad beating."

  "They're used to it," she replied, "and they're riding for blood, which makes a difference."

  Tanner fetched the .357 Magnum from the door clip and passed it to her. "Hang on to this too," he said, and he found a box of ammo in the second compartment and, "Put these in your pocket," he added. He stuffed ammo for the .45 into his own jacket. He adjusted the hand grenades upon his belt.

  Then the five headlights behind him suddenly became four, and the others slowed, grew smaller. "Accident, I hope," he remarked.

  They sighted the mountain, a jag-topped cone bleeding fires upon the sky. They left the road and swung far to the left, upon a well-marked trail. It took twenty minutes to pass the mountain, and by then he sighted their pursuers once again, four lights to the rear, gaining slowly.

  He came upon the road once more and hurried ahead across the shaking ground. The yellow lights moved through the heavens, and heavy, shapeless objects, some several feet across, crashed to the earth about them. The car was buffeted by winds, listed as they moved, would not proceed above forty miles an hour. The radio contained only static.

  Tanner rounded a sharp curve, hit the brake, turned off his lights, pulled the pin from a hand grenade, and waited with his hand upon the door.

  When the lights appeared in the screen, he flung the door wide, leaped down, and hurled the grenade back through the abrasive rain.

  He was into the cab and moving again before he heard the explosion, before the flash occurred upon his screen.

  The girl laughed almost hysterically as the car moved ahead.

  "You got 'em, Hell! You got 'em!" she cried.

  Tanner took a drink from her flask, and she finished its final brown mouthful. He lit them cigarettes.

  The road grew cracked, pitted, slippery. They topped a high rise and headed downhill. The fogs thickened as they descended.

  Lights appeared before him, and he readied the flame. There were no hostilities, however, as he passed a truck headed in the other direction. Within the next half hour he passed two more.

  There came more lightning, and fist-sized rocks began to fall. Tanner left the road and sought shelter within a grove of high trees. The sky grew completely black, losing even its blue aurora.

  They waited for three hours, but the storm did not let up. One by one, the four view screens went dead, and the fifth showed only the blackness beneath the car. Tanner's last sight in the rearview screen was of a huge splintered tree with a broken, swaying branch that was about ready to fall off. There were several terrific crashes upon the hood, and the car shook with each. The roof above their heads was deeply dented in three places. The lights grew dim, then bright again. The radio would not produce even static anymore.

  "I think we've had it," he said.

  "Yeah."

  "How far are we?"

  "Maybe fifty miles away."