Читаем This Perfect Day полностью

They started walking again, at a brisker pace, side by side between the tracks. "We should have brought the bikes,"

Dover said. "We could have coasted."

"Let's keep the talk to a minimum," Chip said. "And just one light at a time. Yours now, Karl."

They walked without talking, behind the light of Karl's flashlight. They took their binoculars off and put them in their kits.

Chip felt that Uni was listening to them, was recording the vibrations of their footsteps or the heat of their bodies.

Would they be able to overcome the defenses it surely was readying, outfight its members, resist its gases? (Were the gas masks any good? Had Jack fallen because he had got his on too late, or would getting it on sooner have made no difference?)

Well, the time for questioning was over, he told himself. This was the time for going ahead. They would meet whatever was waiting for them and do their best to get to the refrigerating plants and blast them.

How many members would they have to hurt, to kill? Maybe none, he thought; maybe the threat of their guns would be enough to protect them. (Against helpful unselfish members seeing Uni in danger? No, never.)

Well, it had to be; there was no other way.

He turned his thoughts to Lilac—to Lilac and Jan and their room in New Madrid.

The tunnel grew cold but the air stayed good.

They walked on, into plastic roundness that glimmered away into blackest black with the tracks reaching into it. We're here, he thought. Now. We're doing it.

At the end of an hour they stopped to rest. They sat on the tracks and divided a cake among them and passed a con tainer of tea around. Karl said, "I'd give my arm for some whiskey."

"I'll buy you a case when we get back," Chip said. "You heard him," Karl said to Dover.

They sat for a few minutes and then they got up and started walking again. Dover walked on a track. "You look pretty confident," Chip said, flashing his light at him. "I am," Dover said. "Aren't you?"

"Yes," Chip said, shining his light ahead again. "I'd feel better if there were six of us," Karl said. "So would I," Chip said.

It was funny about Dover: he had hidden his face in his arms when Jack had started shooting, Chip remembered, and now, when they would soon be shooting, perhaps killing, he seemed cheerful and carefree. But maybe it was a cover-up, to hide anxiety. Or maybe it was just being twenty-five or twenty-six, however old he was. They walked, shifting their kits from one shoulder to the other. "Are you sure this thing ends?" Karl said.

Chip flicked the light at his watch. "It's eleven-thirty," he said. "We should be past the halfway mark." They kept walking into the plastic roundness. It grew a little less cold.

They stopped again at a quarter of twelve, but they found themselves restless and got up in a minute and went on. Light glinted far away in the center of the blackness, and Chip pulled out his gun. "Wait," Dover said, touching his arm, "it's my light. Look!" He switched his flashlight off and on, off and on, and the glint in the blackness went and came back with it. "It's the end," he said. "Or something on the tracks."

They walked on, more quickly. Karl took his gun out too. The glint, moving slightly up and down, seemed to stay the same distance from them, small and faint. "It's moving away from us," Karl said. But then, abruptly, it grew brighter, was nearer. They stopped and raised their masks, fastened them, and walked on. Toward a disc of steel, a wall that sealed the tunnel to its rim.

They went close to it but didn't touch it. It would slide upward, they saw; bands of fine vertical scratches ran down it and its bottom was shaped to fit over the tracks.

They lowered their masks and Chip put his watch to Dover's light. "Twenty of one," he said. "We made good time."

"Or else it goes on on the other side," Karl said. "You would think of that," Chip said, pocketing his gun and unslinging his kit. He put it down on the rock, got on one knee beside it, and pulled it open. "Come closer with the light, Dover," he said. "Don't touch it, Karl."

Karl, looking at the wall, said, "Do you think it's electrified?"

"Dover?" Chip said. "Hold on," Dover said. He had backed a few meters into the tunnel and was shining his light at them. The tip of his L-beam protruded into it. "Don't panic, you're not going to be hurt," he said. "Your guns don't work. Drop yours, Karl. Chip, let me see your hands, then put them on your head and stand up."

Chip stared above the light. There was a glistening line: Dover's clipped blond hair. Karl said, "Is this a joke or what?"

"Drop it, Karl," Dover said. "Put down your kit too. Chip, let me see your hands."

Chip showed his empty hands and put them on his head and stood up. Karl's gun clattered on the rock, and his kit bumped. "What is this?" he said, and to Chip, "What's he doing?"

"He's an espion," Chip said. "A what?"