By careful rationing Chase reckoned that the food would last them nearly two weeks--thirteen days to be exact. They had enough water for drinking even if they had to go without washing. All things considered they couldn't complain. They hadn't seen the gunship again, probably because of the bad weather, and despite his private fears he came to realize that making contact with it was their only hope.
To the north of the city was hostile territory, overrun by tribes and wandering crazies who wouldn't hestitate to kill either for gain or just for the sheer hell of it. South of Vegas was jungle, which said it all. But the Californian border was less than thirty miles away--was that a possible sanctuary? They had heard rumors about concentration camps, hundreds of square miles surrounded by death-ray fences where people were herded in by the thousands. Uneasily, Chase connected such stories with the black gunship. Supposing there was a major war going on somewhere--maybe right here--that they knew nothing about?
He could imagine the scenario well enough: the government in "Washington" (wherever that was now) overthrown by a military coup, the armed forces split two, three, six different ways, the scramble for those geographic areas least affected by the deteriorating climate, the usual power play by the pros and antis, the hawks and doves, clubbing one another into the ground and grabbing what they could.
Yes, he could see it all too clearly. Here and now, though, there were more personal and far more immediate concerns--Jo's condition for one.
Ruth was blunt about it. "She's got five days. Then she'll either lose that leg or her life."
"Does she know it's gangrene?"
"1 haven't told her, but Jo isn't stupid." Ruth sat on the end of the bed and looked at Chase lying propped up on pillows. His eyes were sunken, his cheeks marked by deep vertical lines above his tangled beard. Despite the use of protective cream his forehead and the bridge of his nose were badly blistered. "If she doesn't know now she'll know in a day or two when the wound starts to suppurate. And the smell will leave no one in any doubt."
"Five days," Chase said, staring at the wall opposite. "What can we do in five days? Where can we
"Take it easy, love." Ruth took his fist in both hands and pried open the stiff fingers. "You've done everything you could. The responsibility isn't yours alone--not anymore. It's ours, everyone's."
Chase was hardly listening. He could see Wayne Daventry, poor kid, his head bloated to three times its normal size. Eyes like buttons in a padded cushion of blue-black leather. It was obvious what had killed him from the bite marks. But the width of that bite! That thing must be of a monstrous size, and there might be more than one--perhaps the building was infested with them.
And what about that computer technician, Richards--where had he disappeared to? He'd been with them on the third floor, and then . . . gone.
Five days, Ruth had said. Five days in which to get help from somewhere. If any of them lived that long. What else did the famed Stardust Hotel have up its sleeve?
Later that afternoon he climbed with Dan, Nick, and Art Hegler to the roof of the building. Ostensibly it was to spy out the terrain, but really he needed to talk through the situation and form a plan of action. Printed in his brain like flaring red neon, the words
Before venturing out they plastered their faces with cream and put on dark goggles. The sky had at last cleared and under the hot sun the
jungle steamed and shimmered like something alive. It
He stood with the others looking west. Not long ago--ten or fifteen years--this had been sand and scrub. Nature had come back with a vengeance; almost, it seemed, as if it had a personal vendetta. You asked for it. Here's where you get what's coming to you.
"Jo hasn't got long, has she?" Nick said. Under the yellow cream it was impossible to read his expression.
"No," Chase said.
"She was feverish last night, though the leg isn't hurting her. At least she's not in pain." His chest heaved as he sucked in a thin breath. "By God, I've never wanted to kill anything, but I'd gladly wipe them out, every single grub . . ."
"The way things are going, it'll be the other way around. The old law still applies: survival of the fittest."
"And we're not fit for anything," Nick said drably.
Hegler called out to them from the other side of the roof. They went across and he pointed out one of the tall buildings directly across the Strip. "Do you know what that is?"
"Yes, it's the Riviera Hotel," Dan said.
"How can you tell?"
"I remember seeing the sign above the entrance. You can see it from our floor--"
