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engine coughed, but turned over. They rose on the wind of the blades, though
there was a steady vibra-tion that gently rattled the frame. Well, it runs,
Hulann said. But where do we go from here? The road ends, as you see. Over
the median, Leo said. On back to the next exit. We'll just have to take
secondary roads until we're past the crater and can get back on the good
beater sur-face of the throughway. Hulann took the shuttlecraft over the
concrete bump in the center of the highway, wheeled the craft around and
started back, looking for a way off the useless ex-pressway a way that would
take them west where they wished to go.The Hunter will soon be awakened.The
Hunter will rise up in his glory and take upon him the robes of his power.The
Hunter will seek.Before, there has always been success.The Hunter was born to
hunt, as his prey was born to be brought down at his desire . . .They made
much poorer time on the secondary roads than they had on the highways where
the beater surface was solid and flat. Here, the pavement had been origi-nally
designed for wheeled vehicles, which made it far too uneven and twisted to
offer much to a shuttlecraft. Besides, they were moving into the mountains
near' the end of the Pennsylvania line where the weather, if any-thing, was
more fierce than before.The wind had picked up a few notches, battered the
already beaten craft until the shuddering of the wounded mechanical beast grew
severe enough to shatter one of the two round ports on the rear, behind the
luggage shelf. Glass imploded, spun throughout the cabin. A piece of it caught
Leo on the cheek, drew blood. Other pieces stuck in Hulann's flesh but not
deep enough to cause him pain or to make him bleed.Hulann maintained a low
blade revolution count in order to hug the road and avoid the draughts that
were much stronger even a few feet farther up. Sudden rises in the pavement
gave them hair-raising moments as Hu-lann fought to go around them or increase
the rotar speed and go over them to keep from sheering off the blades.Then
there was the snow. There seemed to be half a dozen inches of it now, and the
steadiness with which it fell indicated no soon end to the storm. The biting
wind now whistling and howling through the shattered rear port and leeching
out their cabin heat piled the white stuff into every nook and crevice,
stacked it against every outcropping of stone, layer on layer until it backed
up across the highway, thick, cold fingers packing hard and making progress on
air cushion even more difficult. Un-drifted snow was light and flushed away
under the blades. But the wind-packed stuff was solid as ice, would not blow
away, and gave Hulann trouble with his ma-chine. How much can it snow here?
he asked Leo as they flitted up the side of a mountain which should have been
tunneled through. He was amazed at the impracticality. Maybe a foot. Two feet
is not unusual. Two feet! Like you and me. That's impossible! You don't
have snow on your world? Not that much! Wait, the boy said, smiling.He
waited.The snow continued. Mounted. Blew. Drifted. The shuttlecraft slowed and
slowed until he could not drop their forward speed any further. It was
maddening to re-alize there were forces behind which would soon be after them
and that they could only crawl along at under ten miles an hour. The only
consolation Hulann could find was the realization that those chasing them
would also have to move slowly. Then that consolation was ruined too. The
Hunter would the Hunter be turned loose on them? It seemed likely although the
situation would be unique would wait until the storm had ended, then come by
air, in a helicopter.They rounded a bend in the road near the top of the
mountain, were confronted by a wall of packed snow four feet high, stretching
across from the road bank of their right to the precipice on their left.
Hulann braked, but not fast enough. The shuttlecraft bumped into the drift at
seven miles an hour and wedged the first few feet of itself into the smooth,
wind-polished whiteness. Stuck, Leo said knowledgeably. We have nothing to
dig with. I'll have to manuever. Leo braced himself, feet against the dash,
back pressed into the seat. Hulann laughed. Ready, Leo said.Hulann fed power
to the blades, and kicked the side jets into reverse, The craft lurched but
held fast. He eased down on the accelerator until it was almost floored. The
blades chewed at the snow that packed the front section of them, seemed only
to lodge themselves more firmly.He eased off on the pedal until the blades
whirred softly, then tramped it down hard. The shuttle started like an animal,
wiggled. He eased up, slammed down again. The craft jolted free and swept
backwards, sliding sideways toward the guardrails and the long, deadly
em-bankment.Hulann let up on the pedal, but too quickly as .... . . the engine
died and the blades choked and he no longer had control of his machine . .
.They struck the rails, tilted, went over.The car hung there, caught on some
projection, tee-tering. Then it fell.Glass shattered.And they were rolling
down, down . . .
Chapter FiveIt was a hundred and five minutes before dawn of that day.In the
city that had once been called Atlanta when there were men to make with names,
one of the few human metropolises not destroyed by its owners in the last
convulsions of their defeat, Sara Laramie moved through the iron castings in
the foundry yard, keeping low so that she was at all times concealed from view
on at least three sides. The Hunter Relemar was in pursuit of her, had been
for some days. She did not know that he was called a Hunter by his kind or
that his name was Re-lemar. It was obvious, however, that he was different
from other naoli.He moved quietly, stealthily, like a wraith. She had watched
him prowl a street from a vantage point on the roof of a department store. At
times, she had even lost sight of him, though there was damned little he could
hide behind in an open avenue. She had been glad she was not down there,
running. She saw, for the first time, why she had not been able to lose him
before this. He was not a naoli. Not really.He was something else. Something
more.A special breed of animal.While she had been watching, he suddenly turned
and scanned the rooftops along the street, as if some extra sense had warned
him of her whereabouts. She had ducked behind the parapet, breathless,
trembling. Her hands had begun to shake, and she felt a scream building up in
her lungs that she could not allow into her throat.Time passed.She looked
out.Relemar the Hunter with the Fourth Division of the naoli occupation
forces, was still there, standing in his dark clothes the only naoli she had
ever seen dressed and watched, listened, felt the darkened buildings for her
presence.Then he moved, crossing toward the department store. . . . Deep
scream, lovely scream, wanting out . . .At the last minute, he veered from his
projected path and went into the building next door.She breathed out,
swallowed the scream, digested it. Then she moved fast, down through the
department store, into the street and away before he could return.Now, in the
foundry yard, she slipped from hulk to hulk until she reached the
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