I looked behind. The mutants were a hundred yards back, still not rushing, but definitely gaining on me.

  I hurried up a gravel slope and crested a rise, and stopped dead. Below me stretched a vast lake, so big I could barely see the far shore. The water was black and oily, and in places, the tips of buildings jutted up from the water like broken teeth. Some buildings along the shore were half-submerged, their lower floors clearly underwater. This section of the city had obviously flooded, maybe due to a dam breaking or the ice caps melting at the poles.

  At the water’s edge, I spotted a raft.

  I walked down the rise and once out of sight of the mutants ran for it, my boots slipping on the loose rubble. Maybe I could gain some ground on them.

  As I ran, I saw that the raft was crude but appeared functional: a square platform made of some synthetic material that looked like compressed foam, probably scavenged from building insulation. It had a long pole and a sweep oar resting in a Y-slot, no doubt for propelling through deeper water as if it was a gondola.

  There was a body on it.

  I soon reached it, panting.

  A dead mutant lay sprawled across the raft, his leather clothes stained dark. I kicked him in the side, but there was no response. Rolling him over, I saw the cause: multiple puncture wounds in his chest, the blood long since congealed.

  I rolled the corpse onto shore and took a heavy blade that was almost a short sword from it. I also noticed a pouch slung over the dead mutant.

  Before I could check it out, a pulse rifle shot sizzled past my head.

  I looked up.

  The mutants had reached the ridge, and one was aiming down at me.

  I ripped the pouch free from the corpse, seeing what looked like sticks of dynamite wrapped in oiled cloth. The sun reflected off an old mechanical lighter.

  A second pulse shot hit the ground before me, creating a small crater.

  Were they toying with me, or really aiming? I was fifty yards away, not that far really. Did mutants have terrible eyesight?

  I grabbed everything and shoved off from the concrete embankment. The raft was ungainly, but it floated. I worked the sweep oar like mad, gradually pulling away from shore.

  More shots came, sending up splashes and steam where they hit the water. I was sure they were playing with their food, having fun at my expense. I could hear harsh barking sounds that might have been laughter.

  I kept sweeping the oar.

  When no more shots came, I looked up.

  They raised their rifles as if in salute and then turned, walking down the opposite slope, leaving.

  Why had they stopped shooting?

  I turned forward and saw the possible reason. A great V-shaped wake was cutting through the water, heading straight for my raft.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  The wake was getting closer fast. Whatever was making it had to be huge. And I was stuck on a raft in the middle of its territory, with nowhere to run.

  -11-

  I worked the sweep oar, pushing my ungainly raft through the black water. I was maybe a hundred yards from shore now, and that V-shaped wake was coming strong. As it got closer, I caught glimpses of what was making it: a long sinuous body breaking the surface, scales glistening in the sick yellow light.

  I glanced back at the shore. Would those mutants still be watching? I could see them in my mind’s eye peeking over the top of the rubble pile at me. They’d given up too easily, as if they knew what was in the water and that I might be forced back to them. Going back could mean pulse rifles, and maybe a cannibal’s cooking pot or spit. I hated the idea of them feasting on my flesh. If I retreated, that would be just about certain. Going forward meant… dealing with whatever this thing was.

  I knelt on the raft and opened the pouch I’d taken from the dead mutant. The sticks looked like dynamite but were coated with a waxy substance. The wicks seemed waterproof or water-resistant. I stuck one stick through my belt, clutched another, and got the lighter ready in my hand.

  I stood and decided to test the lighter. I clicked it and saw a flame. Then I shook it. There was still plenty of oil.

  My lips peeled back as I watched the thing circle my raft in a wide arc. Maybe it was some kind of sea snake, though “sea” was generous for this toxic lake. What a horrible, dreadful world this was. Everything here wanted to kill you: the air, the water, the creatures, probably the acid rain if it ever came.

  A roar overhead made me look up, way up. A massive missile was crossing the yellow sky, leaving a white contrail. Was that a nuclear ballistic missile? Was this world still at war with itself, still launching the weapons that had already destroyed it? That seemed sickeningly pointless to me.

  I thought fleetingly of Sky Island, of Suvorov holding it against whatever came. Then I wondered about the soldiers in Tsargol. With those extra spearmen, they could man the walls. But would they have enough food for a long siege? Then again, did the Draconians and Ophidians have enough supplies for a prolonged siege? The desert around Tsargol was one of the city’s best defenses—

  The sea snake brought my attention back to the here and now as ripples from its wake caused the raft to wobble. It wasn’t coming straight at the raft yet. Instead, it circled like a shark, each pass pressing closer.

  I turned with it, keeping it in sight. I noticed a current was pulling my raft toward the middle of the lake. Was that good or bad? Maybe I wouldn’t have to worry about it, as I’d soon be dead.

  The circles got tighter, closer.

  Damn it, my nerves couldn’t take this tightening tension anymore.

  I lit a dynamite stick and watched the wick burn down. I tried to judge its burn speed. Then I hurled the stick as far as I could toward where the creature would be.

  The stick hit the water, and there was nothing. Had it gone out? Had I mistimed it?

  BOOM.

  A fountain of water shot up twenty feet. The creature thrashed, then sea-slithered, heading away from me.

  I laughed with relief. I’d scared it off. Hot damn. That had almost been fun.

  After a moment, I grabbed the sweep and started working the raft again, looking at the ruined skyline around me. This really was an apocalyptic nightmare. Yet the buildings looked familiar, like New York City or Chicago if someone had nuked them, flooded them, then nuked them again for good measure.

  There was a splash to my left.

  I half turned. The wake was back, heading straight for me again.

  The sea snake wanted more, huh? I didn’t want to play, but it was giving me no choice.

  I let go of the sweep and picked up another stick of dynamite. There was still one stuck in my belt. Then I waited, watching as the thing started its circling routine once more. Now that it was closer, I could see how massive it was. It had to be sixty feet at least, thicker than a python, with a head the size of a refrigerator.

  Round and round it went, circling ever closer. Then, suddenly, it turned and came straight at the raft.

  I clicked the lighter—

  The thing dove.

  Shit!

  Would it come up directly under the raft, striking with its broad head or its tail, trying to knock me off?

  On the raft, I rotated in a slow circle, trying to spot it, trying to—

  Water exploded ten feet away as a massive reptilian head rose from the lake, something out of the Mesozoic Era. Its jaws opened, showing rows of fangs like kitchen knives. It hissed, spraying water and something that smelled like rotting fish.

  It was going to strike.

  I’d already lit the dynamite without thinking, pure reflex on my part. As the huge head reared back, I hurled the stick as hard as I could straight at its open maw.

  The head whipped down as the creature gulped at the stick.

  I dove off the raft, hitting the water cleanly.

  The creature’s head hit where I’d been standing, as I heard the raft crack, and felt the impact through the water. My head broke the surface just in time to see a bulge appear in the creature’s throat, then—

  BOOM.

  That was muffled, but definite. The creature’s eyes—each the size of dinner plates—looked at me with something like surprise. Then it threw its head back, hissing in agony, and began convulsing in the water.

  I swam hard for the raft, grabbed the edge, and hauled myself up, spitting out water that tasted like batteries and death. The raft was cracked but holding. Behind me, the water churned as other things—I didn’t want to know what—came to feed on the dying monster. That was my guess, anyway.

  Soaking wet, I grabbed the sweep and started working it hard, getting away from the feeding frenzy. At least nothing was following me now. That was something.

  Yeah, that had to be something.

  But I surely hated this place to the depths of my being.

  -12-

  I’d been pushing the raft a long time when I noticed the sun starting to sink. The sick yellow sky was turning an even sicker orange, and shadows were stretching across the flooded city like dark fingers. Dusk was coming, and here I was in the middle of this toxic lake with nowhere safe to go.

  I picked a near spot on the shore that looked relatively clear: a concrete platform that might have been a loading dock once. As I got close, shapes emerged from the rubble. These weren’t the tusked mutants from before. These were taller, thinner, with too many joints in their fingers. They carried spears and raised them, not threatening exactly, but beckoning and inviting me to come ashore.

  No thanks.

  I swung the raft back toward open water, working the sweep until my shoulders burned. The creatures watched me go, their heads tilting. One of them called out in a language I’d never heard before.

  It surprised me I didn’t understand him. Usually, the ziggurat gave me the world’s tongue.

  Maybe that wasn’t the issue. Maybe there were more languages here than just one.

  The question was, what I was going to do now?

  The sun was almost down. It seemed unwise to navigate in the dark, as I couldn’t see threats coming or buildings sticking out of the water. I sure as heck wasn’t going ashore with those things waiting for me.

  I secured everything as best I could, making sure the dynamite pouch was dry and closed. Then I sat in the middle of the raft and watched the sun disappear behind the broken skyline.

  In time, the stars came out, brilliant in a way they never were on Earth. There was no light pollution, just the faint glow of fires burning in the distance. The constellations were alien. How far was I from Earth or Mu?

  I took a small sip of water from the supply I’d brought and ate a few bites from my rations. The food tasted like cardboard, but it was calories. Then I rolled up my jacket for a pillow, lay down on the raft, and tried to sleep.

  It wasn’t really sleep, but more like skimming along the surface of unconsciousness. Every splash in the water jerked me awake. Every shift of the raft had me reaching for a weapon. But exhaustion won eventually, pulling me down into restless darkness.

  When I woke, my mouth tasted like I’d been sucking on old batteries. The metallic flavor was worse now, coating my tongue and throat. The raft had drifted during the night, and I was maybe twenty feet from shore. This was a different shore, collapsed buildings creating a maze of concrete and twisted rebar.

  Dawn was just starting to break, painting the ruins in shades of gray and rust. I sat up, put on my jacket, and took stock.

  Half my water went down in one long swallow. That was probably stupid, but I needed to clear that taste from my mouth. I ate more rations, trying not to think about what would happen when they ran out.

  Where was the obelisk? Every world I’d visited had one, usually not too far from the ziggurat. But this city was massive. The obelisk could be anywhere. And once my supplies were gone, then what? Everything here was probably radioactive or contaminated. The only way to make the water even remotely drinkable would be to boil it and collect the condensation, and even that might not remove whatever chemicals had poisoned this place.

  The raft suddenly ground to a halt, stuck on something below the surface. I pushed with the sweep but got nowhere. I used the pole but the raft remained stuck. Looking down through the murky water, I could see I’d hit some kind of submerged structure. There was broken concrete, metal beams, and dark spaces where anything could be hiding, although the spaces seemed to go all the way to the shore.

  I was twenty feet to solid ground. That wasn’t far, but far enough if something was waiting in the water.

  There was no choice, though. I couldn’t stay on the raft forever.

  I gathered my stuff and slid off carefully, trying not to think about what my legs might be brushing against. The water came up to my thighs, soaking through my boots and pants. It was cold and oily, and it made my skin tingle in a way I didn’t like.

  Step by step, I made it to shore. Once on land, my boots squelched with every movement, and I could feel the water seeping through, probably carrying a dozen different toxins.

  This part of the city wasn’t quite as devastated as where I’d started. The buildings were damaged but not completely skeletal. Some even had intact windows, dark and reflective like dead eyes.

  I started walking, picking my way through streets clogged with debris. Insects buzzed around me. They were mosquitoes, big ones, just like in Canada on Earth. How did mosquitoes survive a nuclear war when almost everything else had died, at least as far as I could tell? I slapped one that landed on my neck, leaving a smear of blood.

  Things moved in the ruins. They were quick shadows, darting between buildings. More of those tusked mutants watched from windows and doorways, but they kept their distance. Maybe word had spread that I had dynamite. Or maybe they just didn’t hunt during the morning.

  By noon, the city opened up into something that stopped me cold.

  I spied a crater. But not just any crater—this thing was massive. I could barely see the far edge. The ground sloped down into it, all fused glass and crystallized sand. Whatever had made this hadn’t been a normal nuke. Maybe it had been an antimatter warhead or something worse.

  Here was the thing. The crater was empty. There was no movement or life I could see, just desolation. It looked like the surface of the moon if the moon was made of melted glass.

  Then I heard hunting horns. The sound echoed off the buildings behind me. I turned and saw them maybe half a mile back: a hunting party of mutants, at least a dozen of them. Could they have been tracking me? Or now that the morning had passed, had they finally bestirred themselves?

  I looked at the crater again. Crossing it would leave me more exposed. But going around would take hours, and the mutants knew the city. They might have cut me off, using the crater as a trap. Maybe that’s why they’d just blown their horns.

  With a shake of my head at the insanity of it all, I started down into the crater. The surface crunched under my boots as if I were walking on broken glass. The sun reflected off the crystallized ground, creating a glare that made my eyes water. I should have brought a pair of dark sunglasses. There was no cover or shade anyway, and certainly no water, just fused glass between me and whatever was on the other side.

  Behind me, the hunting horns sounded again.

  I picked up my pace, heading into the desolate wasteland. The footing was treacherous: smooth in some places, sharp and jagged in others. Already I could feel the heat building up, reflected and amplified by the glassy surface.

  I was walking across ground zero of a possible antimatter explosion while being hunted by mutants on a planet that was still nuking itself, trying to find an obelisk that might not even work.

  But I kept walking. What else could I do?

  I heard the horns later and looked back. The mutants had reached the crater’s edge but hadn’t followed me in. They stood there, watching. Maybe they knew something about the place that I didn’t.

  I kept going, one foot in front of the other, trying not to think about what this was doing to my body at the cellular level. The far edge of the crater seemed to get no closer no matter how long I walked. Sweat poured down my face, stinging my eyes. My water was almost gone, but I needed it. I took a small sip, just enough to wet my throat.

  I looked back again. The mutants had left, and I couldn’t see anyone trailing me. So, I’d made a good choice heading down here. That was something.

  Facing forward, I concentrated on trudging, as I had a long way to go still.

  -13-

  The sun hammered down from that sick yellow sky, and the glassy surface threw it right back up at me. I was being cooked from above and below like a piece of meat on a grill. My shirt was soaked through with sweat. I’d peeled off my leather jacket and slung it over my shoulder.

  Every step crunched on the crystallized surface. In some places, the glass had formed smooth sheets that were as slick as ice. In others, it had shattered into sharp fragments that threatened to slice through my boot soles. There, I had to move slowly and carefully. The whole crater was like walking through a giant’s broken mirror.

  The antimatter blast, or whatever hellish weapon had done this, must have been unimaginable. The heat would have turned sand to glass instantly, vaporized buildings, and turned people to shadows on walls if they were lucky. If they weren’t lucky… well, maybe over time their descendants became those tusked mutants I’d been seeing.

  I checked my water. Less than a quarter left. The smart move would be to save it, ration it out. But my throat felt like sandpaper, and that metallic taste was getting stronger. I took a small sip, just enough to wet my mouth, and kept walking.

  It was hard not to suck it all down. Marine training was the trick to that. I now had a rag over my head tied down with string. Next time, I needed to bring a baseball hat and super-dark sunglasses.

  The distance was playing tricks on me, or I was getting loopy. I’d fix my eyes on a point on the far rim: a broken building, a distinctive pile of rubble. I’d walked toward it for what felt like an hour. When I looked up again, it seemed no closer. Maybe the heat shimmer was distorting things. Maybe any leftover radiation was already affecting my brain.