Part 7 (1/2)

The man gestured to the northwest.

”That way.”

Then the man was gone, having seen an opening and pushed his way through.

”Croyd, we can get past on the street if we go over the hood of that car,” Joe said.

Croyd nodded and followed the other boy across the still-warm hood of a gray Dodge. The driver swore at them, but his door was blocked by the press of bodies and the door on the pa.s.senger side could only open a few inches before hitting the fender of a taxi. They made their way around the cab and pa.s.sed through the intersection at its middle, traversing two more cars on the way.

Pedestrian traffic eased near to the center of the next block, and it looked as if there was a large open area ahead. They sprinted toward it, then halted abruptly.

A man lay upon the pavement. He was having convulsions. His head and hands had swollen enormously, and they were dark red, almost purple in color. Just as they caught sight of him, blood began to rush from his nose and mouth; it trickled from his ears, it oozed from his eyes and about his fingernails.

”Holy Mary!” Joe said, crossing himself as he drew back. ”What's he got?”

”I don't know,” Croyd answered. ”Let's not get too close. Let's go over some more cars.”

It took them ten minutes to reach the next corner. Somewhere along the way they noticed that the guns had been silent for a long time, though the air-raid sirens, police sirens, and auto horns maintained a steady din.

”I smell smoke,” Croyd said.

”Me, too. If something's burning no fire truck's going to get to it.”

”Whole d.a.m.n town could burn down.”

”Maybe it's not all like this.”

”Bet it is.”

They pushed ahead, were caught in a press of bodies and swept about the corner.

”We're not going this way!” Croyd yelled.

But it did not matter, as the ma.s.s of people about them was halted seconds later.

”Think we can crawl through to the street and go over cars again?” Joe asked.

”Might as well try.”

They made it. Only this time, as they worked their way back toward the corner it was slower, as others were taking the same route. Croyd saw a reptilian face through a winds.h.i.+eld then, and scaly hands clutching at a steering wheel that had been torn loose from its column as the driver slowly slumped to the side. Looking away, he saw a rising tower of smoke from beyond buildings to the northeast.

When they reached the corner there was no place to descend. People stood packed and swaying. There were occasional screams. He wanted to cry, but he knew it would do no good. He clenched his teeth and shuddered.

”What're we going to do?” he called to Joe.

”If we're stuck here overnight we can bust the window on an empty car and sleep in it, I guess.”

”I want to go home!”

”Me, too. Let's try and keep going as far as we can.”

They inched their way down the street for the better part of an hour, but only made another block. Drivers howled and pounded on windows as they climbed over the roofs of their cars. Other cars were empty. A few others contained things they did not like to look at. Sidewalk traffic looked dangerous now. It was fast and loud, with brief fights, numerous screams, and a number of fallen bodies which had been pushed into doorways or off the curb into the street. There had been a few seconds' hesitation and silence when the sirens had stopped. Then came the sound of someone speaking over a bullhorn. But it was too far away. The words were not distinguishable, except for ”bridges.” The panic resumed.

He saw a woman fall from a building across the street and up ahead, and he looked away before she hit. The smell of smoke was still in the air, but there were yet no signs of fire in the vicinity. Ahead, he saw the crowd halt and draw back as a person-man or woman, he could not tell-burst into flames in its midst. He slid to the road between two cars and waited till his friend came up.

”Joe, I'm scared s.h.i.+tless,” he said. ”Maybe we should just crawl under a car and wait till it's all over.”

”I've been thinking of that,” the other boy replied. ”But what if part of that burning building falls on a car and it catches fire?”

”What of it?”

”If it gets to the gas tank and it blows up they'll all go, this close together, like a string of firecrackers.”

”Jesus!”

”We've got to keep going. You can come to my place if it seems easier.”

Croyd saw a man perform a series of dancelike movements, tearing at his clothing. Then he began to change shape. Someone back up the road started howling. There came sounds of breaking gla.s.s.

During the next half-hour the sidewalk traffic thinned to what might, under other circ.u.mstances, be called normal. The people seemed either to have achieved their destinations or to have advanced their congestion to some other part of town. Those who pa.s.sed now picked their way among corpses. Faces had vanished from behind windows. No one was in sight atop the buildings. The sounds of auto horns had diminished to sporadic outbursts. The boys stood on a corner. They had covered three blocks and crossed the street since they had left school.

”I turn here,” Joe said. ”You want to come with me or you going ahead?”

Croyd looked down the street.

”It looks better now. I think I can make it okay,” he said.

”I'll see you.”

”Okay.”

Joe hurried off to the left. Croyd watched him for a moment, then moved ahead. Far up the street, a man raced from a doorway screaming. He seemed to grow larger and his movements more erratic as he moved to the center of the street. Then he exploded. Croyd pressed his back against the brick wall to his left and stared, heart pounding, but there was no new disturbance. He heard the bullhorn again, from somewhere to the west, and this time its words were more clear: ”. . . The bridges are closed to both auto and foot traffic. Do not attempt to use the bridges. Return to your homes. The bridges are closed. . . .”

He moved ahead again. A single siren wailed somewhere to the east. A low-flying airplane pa.s.sed overhead. There was a crumpled body in a doorway to his left; he looked away and quickened his pace. He saw smoke across the street, and he looked for the flames and saw then that it rose from the body of a woman seated on a doorstep, her head in her hands. She seemed to shrink as he watched, then fell to her left with a rattling sound. He clenched his fists and kept going.

An Army truck rolled from the side street at the corner ahead of him. He ran to it. A helmeted face turned toward him from the pa.s.senger side.

”Why are you out, son?” the man asked.

”I'm going home,” he answered.

”Where's that?”

He pointed ahead.

”Two blocks,” he said.