"Gasoline," he gasped, and Chase brought the rifle butt down and sheared the padlock from its mountings. In a few minutes they had loaded ten large jerry cans into the back of the Dodge.
With Chase at the wheel and headlights blazing, they accelerated across the compound and through the gate and roared past the council hall: silent of gunfire now, silent of screams of pain and suffering, but shrill with the cries of triumph and victory.
They were between Sulphur and Tungsten when the pickup blew a front tire. Chase thought the geographical symbolism apt--on one side a bitter, acrid chemical associated with hellfire, on the other a hard gray metallic substance used as an abrasive.
He backed the jeep onto the sandy shoulder, taking care not to jostle his passengers. They had driven nonstop for nine hours and it was now a few minutes after 10:00 a.m. There was no cloud and no welcoming shade and the temperature was already high in the eighties.
Chase climbed down, cramped and stiff, and turned to the two women, one cradled in the arms of the other. "How is she, Ruth? Would it help if we stopped for a while?"
"Her pulse is weak. I could give her an injection, but I'm afraid her system isn't strong enough to take it." Ruth moved her arm and winced as the renewed circulation jabbed her with a thousand needles. "I think we ought to carry on; I can't do anything for her until we get to Desert Range. How long would you say?"
"About fifteen hours without stopping or holdups. Maybe we should have something to eat now while they're changing the tire." It was anguish for him to look at Cheryl. In the harsh sunlight her face had the color and consistency of wax.
Nick and Dan were squatting by the pickup, loosening the bolts on the wheel. As Chase went over to them the two women got down from the cab and stretched themselves. Everyone went still, his head lifted to catch the low throbbing sound of an engine, and moments later a small red car loaded down so that the body was pressed onto the hubs toiled around the bend toward them. The roof rack was piled high with boxes, furniture, and household goods. Through the dust-smeared windows it was possible to make out a man and two women, one of them elderly, and two young children with wide curious eyes. The car labored past in the direction of Sulphur without any kind of greeting being exchanged.
Chase helped them fit the jack and began to crank it. "What condition is the spare in?"
Nick straightened up and smiled wanly. "Let's hope we have a spare."
"We'll be in a hell of a mess if you haven't," Chase said. "Dan, will you take a look?" His son nodded and wandered off like a sleepwalker. "How's your shoulder, Nick?"
"Jen dressed it for me, but I'll never be able to play the violin again. Is Cheryl holding up?"
"I think so." He didn't want to tempt fate by any show of optimism. He gazed around at the baking hills, the grass burned brown and threadbare. There was a low mountain range ahead topped by Star Peak. "We're not far from Interstate eighty. We'll take that as far as highway ninety-three and then head south. Can you make it without rest? Ruth thinks we should press on."
"Jen can take over for a few hours. What about you? Jo's a good driver. She can handle the jeep while you get some sleep in the back of the pickup."
Dan appeared pushing the spare wheel. His frail arms looked incapable of supporting it. Chase went to his assistance and had to clench his teeth to keep his emotion in check.
While Chase and Nick worked at replacing the wheel, Jen distributed biscuits, chocolate, and fruit. She knelt down to offer some to Dan, who was sitting exhausted in the thin shade of the pickup, head thrown back, eyes closed. When he opened them there was such misery written there that she instinctively pulled him to her in a gesture of pity and forgiveness.
Chase went back to the jeep and rigged up the canvas sheet as a shelter. Not only was the heat oppressive but the sun's rays caused a prickly, smarting sensation, as if the skin were being bathed in a weak acidic solution. The air itself tasted tart and coppery.
As he tucked the flaps of the canvas behind the rolled-up camping gear, leaving a tentlike opening to give them the benefit of what breeze there was, Chase found a reassuring smile from somewhere. "Jo's going to drive for a while. We'll stop at nightfall for something to eat and then I'll take over. We'll be all right. We're going to make it."
"I know," Ruth said and gave him a smile too. "I trust you."
For just a moment Cheryl's eyes opened and looked straight at him. There was no expression in them and he wasn't sure whether it was simply a reflex action, performed unconsciously, but nevertheless he felt a surge of fresh hope.
