car, a 1962 convertible. In the back seat Markel put the Earth Mother's suitcases, in with the spare wheels, ammunition boxes, sleeping bag, gasoline cans, cooking utensils, canned food, clothes, rope, car tools, and other necessities. Opening the trunk, he showed her the books he had collected so far, calling out some of the titles.

When he finished, she said, "You got any books on how to build houses, or fix toilets, or how to grow stuff? You know, like corn, or tomatoes?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Anybody can do that." He slammed the trunk shut, and they got into the convertible. He turned it around and drove to the highway. Where the highway turned west they had a last look at the city, bleak in the sun, with sunlight in the broken windows. Dust blew in the gutters, and pigeons drifted into the streets.

Then the outskirts of the city were behind them, and then the suburbs, and they went down the long, empty highway. Dusk came soft on the fields and hills, and blue in the valleys. "The world is ours," said Markel.

"Man, this is a gone set of wheels," said the Earth Mother.

Before dark he stopped, driving several yards across a meadow to park near a small stream. Gathering deadwood and twigs, he made a fire while the Earth Mother, following his orders, fixed supper. After supper Markel said, "I think you've succeeded where the bombs and bugs failed. I do think you poisoned me." He drank two tin cups of bicarbonate (he was prepared for all emergencies) and felt somewhat better.

"This is kind of fun, I guess," she said. "Like a picnic I went on once. Everybody had a swell time and we all sang. I remember that real good." She sat staring at the fire. "We had lights hanging all around at night, though. It wasn't scary dark like this."

It was very dark, with a chill wind, when Markel got the sleeping bag and blankets from the convertible; these he spread on the grass several yards from the stream. After that he brushed his teeth at the stream, put out the fire, and rolled up in the blankets, the M-1 beside him. Just before he fell asleep he heard the Earth Mother squirming and shifting in the sleeping bag.

He awoke in blackness. The Earth Mother was snoring in counterpoint to some crickets but neither of these sounds had awakened him. He took hold of the M-1, rolled over, and got to his knees. A few yards away the convertible was a solid black bulk in the lesser black of night, 

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