Doomsday Eve 4

Doomsday Eve 4

"Not at all," he denied. "If anything could be done to help them I

would be doing it. Don't you understand what has happened? That was an

Asian N bomb that exploded. In an N bomb the immediate effect is minor.

The real purpose of the weapon is to spray the area with high intensity

radiation, to make the ground unfit for living for months. Any living

creature caught within the direct blast of the radiation is doomed, and

neither you, nor I, nor the medics, can do anything to help them--" He

broke off as another man began screaming up the slope.

 

The nurse was irresolute. "But that man needs help," she pointed out.

 

"Certainly he needs help," Zen agreed.

 

"Well--"

 

Zen watched her carefully. She seemed to understand his words but

something else pulled at her far more strongly: the screaming of the

injured man. Each time the soldier cried out, she started in his

direction.

 

"Well, well, thank you, colonel." Turning, she moved with a sure stride

up the slope.

 

Zen swore under his breath and started after her, then caught the

motion as the question rose in him as to why she should throw her

life away. She knew the meaning of radiation in lethal quantities.

Unquestionably, she also knew what would happen to any normal human who

ventured into a hot zone.

 

Was she, then, a normal human being? Was he actually witnessing one of

the miracles performed by the new people? If she came off the mountain

slope alive, it would certainly prove something. Zen cursed again. She

was going where he could not safely follow. If she returned unharmed,

he had enough proof to warrant following her to the ends of the earth,

if need be.

 

 

 

 

III

 

 

The radio transmitter inside Zen's pack was small but very powerful.

It did not look like a radio transmitter at all; there was no antenna

and no apparent source of power. Only the tiny earphone and the throat

microphone revealed its true nature.

 

He slipped the phone into his ear, fitted the microphone against his

throat, then picked up the piece of plastic tubing that was red on one

end and green on the other. Wires ran from each end of this tube to the

small box that housed the transmitter.

 

"Red goes to the right hand," he muttered. "Green to the left. Or is it

the other way around?" Making up his mind that red went to the right,

he closed his fingers around the ends of the plastic tube, then watched

the tiny meter on top of the small box that contained the transmitter.

 

The needle moved on the dial.

 

"Calling nine dash nine," he spoke. "This is six one calling nine dash

nine." He repeated the call three times, then sat back on his haunches

to await an answer.

 

"Come in six one," the earphone said. "What color is red?"

 

"It's green this week," Zen answered promptly.

 

"What color was it last week?"

 

"Last week? Um. Oh, yes. No color."

 

"And that means--"

 

"White. This is Kurt Zen, colonel, intelligence, reporting. Connect me

immediately with General Stocker."

 

Satisfied with the identity of the caller, the operator said, "Just a

minute, colonel, I'll see if the general will talk to you."

 

"Tell him it's important," Zen urged.

 

"They always say that," the operator sighed. "I'll put you through as

soon as I can."

 

"Kurt, boy, where are you?" General Stacker's voice boomed into a

distant microphone. The general's voice always boomed, he was always

hearty, he was always sure that while things might look black right

now, they would work out all right in the end. By the time the booming

voice reached Zen's earphone, it had been transformed into a tinny

squeak. Kurt thought he detected an uneasy note in the squeak and he

wondered if the general had finally glimpsed the end, and was finding

it not quite as he had supposed.

 

"In hell, general," Zen answered. He swiftly told where he was and what

had happened. "Cuso's blooper knocked out the last pass by which we can

bring an effective force against him. This whole area is loaded with

radiation."

 

"How will we ever root that bastard out of his hole now?"

 

"That's for the staff to decide. I have more important news."

 

"Yes? Talk, Kurt, and fast. You don't mean that you--"

 

"Yes. I mean I think this nurse may be it. I don't know yet." Zen

explained what had happened.

 

"Damn it, Kurt, do you mean to tell me that if she comes back alive,

you will know she is immune to the radiation, and hence must be one of

the new people? But if she comes back dead, or so loaded with radiation

that she will die within a few days, then you will know she was just

like all the rest of us?" Even through Zen's earphone, the general's

voice had begun to boom.

 

"That's the way I see it," Zen answered.

 

"But goddammit--Are you hurt, Kurt?" The general's voice was suddenly

solicitous. "Are you all right?"

 

"Damn it, I'm in my right mind," Zen answered. "I was in a prospect

hole when the blast went off. Don't you think I've got enough sense

to take cover?" Stocker's suddenly solicitous attitude irritated him.

"Sorry, sir," he apologized an instant later.

 

"It's quite all right, boy. I know that nerves get frayed in combat.

But this nurse--"

 

"That's the way I see it, sir," Zen said doggedly. "I request

permission to follow her."

 

"If she comes back alive, you mean?"

 

"I would appreciate it if you would stop reminding me of that

possibility."

 

"Oh. So you are emotionally interested in her?"

 

"Well, what if I am? She's a nice kid."

 

"They all are, boy. They all are--until you get to know them. As to

permission to follow her, you've not only got it, but it's an order.

We've got to find out about these new people. One of them appeared in

President Wilkerson's private office this morning and told him to call

off a planned landing in Asia."

 

"Really?" Zen said. "In the President's office!"

 

"That's what I said."

 

"Did it really happen? I mean, was anyone present?"

 

"No one except the President's secretary. She's under heavy sedation

right now, from shock. She thought God Almighty Himself had come

walking in. The old man is not in much better shape." Stocker's voice

showed signs of strain. "I've got my orders from Wilkerson himself and

I'm passing them on to you. _Find these new people!_ Follow that nurse

to hell if you have to."

 

"Right, sir."

 

"Report to me when you have something to report--that is, something

besides going to bed with her. Off." Zen grimaced as he pulled the tiny

phone out of his ear. He slipped the transmitter back into the pack and

slung it over his shoulder. The radiation count was dropping but it was

still too high for safety. He looked longingly up the trail. Wounded

men were coming down but Nedra was not in sight.

 

The wounded men were no longer a fighting unit, but had become

individuals, each one intent only on his own survival. Patriotism had

gone from their minds, they no longer gave a hoot about saving their

country, but were only interested in saving their own lives.

 

Far up the trail, Zen could see a tall figure moving upward. The nurse!

He unslung the pair of field glasses from his shoulder. Through the

powerful lenses Nedra's lithe figure was very clear. He saw her move

to the side of the trail and kneel beside a wounded man who lacked

the courage to walk downhill. Somehow she got the man to his feet

and started him along the trail. He stumbled and fell. Again the

nurse knelt beside him but this time she made no attempt to lift him.

Instead, she got to her own feet.

 

Zen decided the man had died as he fell.

 

She continued on up the slope.

 

Down below, motors roared and then came to a halt. Turning, Zen saw

that a first aid station was being set up down there. The medics worked

fast; already they were directing the wounded men to the back end of a

truck, where an examination station had been set up. But, fast as they

worked, they were too late to help the vast majority of the wounded.

The futility of the effort depressed Zen, so he returned his attention

to the nurse.

 

She was in the middle of the trail again. The avalanche, directly ahead

of her, had stopped her progress. A man was with her.

 

Through the glasses, the man looked as tall and craggy as a mountain

peak. No soldier, he was without helmet or other headgear. His hair,

white as the snow on top of a mountain, was flying in the wind. His

face looked like a statue hewn in granite. Zen guessed that he was a

resident of this region, a mountaineer who had sought safety in these

remote fastnesses, and who had been blasted out of his hiding place by

Cuso's radioactive blooper and was wandering down this trail to die.

The nurse was talking to him.