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He dropt the body that he had been tugging, which had earlier been enlivened by the soul of Mr. Skettles, the apothecary, and quickly drew his gun.

“Who are you? How’d you get here?”

“We came up through the compound,” lied Phillips. He took a deep breath through his nose in an attempt to calm himself so that he could better put forth the counterfeit necessary to preserve his life and the life of his companion. “Flatiron sent us.”

“Well, I knew you couldn’t have come up from the valley because we’ve got men guarding the barrow trail.”

“No, we didn’t come from the valley. We came up from the compound,” repeated Phillips.

“Flatiron.”

“That’s right.”

“Are you here to do a count? It’s eighty-two. It was supposed to be eighty-three but somebody must have changed their mind at the last minute.”

“I see,” said Phillips, nodding his head slowly and thoughtfully to look appropriately administrative. “And how is the mop-up going? Why are you undertaking this task by yourself? You were supposed to have help.”

“Do ya think?” said the young man with undisguised rancor.“The story I’m getting is that all my fucking help got reassigned to the South Sector.”

“What happened to the contingent of shooters that were already detailed to that sector?”

The young man relaxed and lowered his gun. “A couple of them bailed, I think. Cold feet. Something. Only two hours before Diluvian.”

“But when was this exactly?”

“I don’t know. Forty-five minutes ago, maybe.”

Phillips consulted his watch. By his calculation, there was now roughly one hour and fifteen minutes until release of the floodwaters.

“Anyway, I’ll get some help later. I mean, I have to. Some of these fuckers must weigh three-hundred pounds. What kind of lard-ass meals do these fatso Dinglian dudes eat, anyway?”

“Some of them have been known to eat quite well,” said Phillips. “What’s your name?”

“McIntyre. But look, I just want you to know: I’m not complaining. I got the best seat in the house for the main attraction. I mean, check it out. It’s gonna be awesome. And yeah, I guess I’d like to be down there, you know, picking off the survivors, but I’m on probation. I mean, they didn’t say I was on probation, but I know I am.”

“What did you do?”

“I guess you don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

“They say I’m the one who got Andrews killed — the guy we lost when we took out the nurse and those other two dudes. They say I shouldn’t have left Andrews to deal with the wack job by himself — the one who went all postal. I mean, what the fuck was that? Thinking he could take us on with — I mean what was that — a Swiss Army knife or something? I was, like, just shoot the three of them in the heads and get it over with, but no, it had to be a fucking stealth job. And now Andrews is dead and I’m hauling bodies in wheelbarrows like some kind of a, like, custodial worker, or something.”

“The desire to survive can be strong,” said Phillips. “Especially among these people.”

“Whatever.”

So this was one of the men who killed Ruth, thought Phillips. The role he had decided to play was becoming an even greater challenge. He tasted bile. He swallowed.

“Who’s this dude?” asked McIntyre, indicating the Senator with a jerk of the head. “He looks familiar.”

“He should be familiar,” replied Phillips. “He signs your paychecks.”

“Yeah, okay. I guess that means helping me with these bodies is probably gonna be a little above your pay grade.”

Phillips looked away, as if pretending that such a statement didn’t deserve a response.

At just that moment there came a sound that commanded the attention of all three men: a pronounced rustle behind a hedge of shrubbery just beyond the gazebo. McIntyre put a finger to his lips to signal silence. He stepped over the bodies to place himself next to Phillips and the Senator. “Looks like we got us a little company,” he said in a low voice. “Are you packing?”

I am,” said Phillips, drawing out a small Outland revolver. The Senator, having no knowledge that Phillips had been carrying a firearm all along, gave the jeweller a look of contained surprise.

“Good,” said the young cadaver-remover, raising his pistol to his chest. “You go left and I’ll go right. Probably just a fawn — there are a lot of deer up here — but you can’t take any chances.”

Phillips nodded and did as he had been instructed, moving off in the opposite direction. The Senator, unarmed and feeling slightly vulnerable, decided to stay where he was.

It was McIntyre who noticed her first: Alice Trimmers, crouched behind the shrubbery. “Stand up!” he barked. “Step away from the bushes!”

Alice pulled herself tremblingly to her feet.

“Step out. Shew yourself. Hurry up.”

Alice stepped out from behind the greenery that had not done such a very good job of concealing her. With great difficulty she produced the beseeching words, “Please don’t hurt me.”

“Who are you?” asked the young man.

“A-A-Alice Tr-Trimmers,” stuttered Alice.

“Are you the eighty-third?” Over his shoulder to Phillips: “Here’s your eighty-third, Suit.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” said Alice.

“The man is asking,” interposed Phillips, “if you are the last of those who were supposed to come to the Summit to-day.”

“I don’t know.”

“How can you not know, young lady? Either you’re supposed to be up here or you aren’t.”

“What are you going to do to me?”

With a leering smile and a nod, McIntyre indicated that he would like to answer this question for himself. “I don’t know what he’s going to do with you, A-A-A-Alice, but I know what I’m going to do. I mean, before we lay your dead body on that pile over there.”

Alice shuddered. The Senator closed his eyes and swallowed. What was Phillips doing? What in God’s name was he permitting to happen here?

“Please. I beg of you.”

“Beg. Yeah, that’s good,” said the barrow-boy through a toothy grin. “How old are you?”

“Th-thirteen.”

“You look older. Which is why I’ll still do you. Unless these Suits want to do you first.” Turning to the Senator: “Age before beauty. I can wait my turn.”

The Senator shook his head, his look fixed, intentionally unrevealing of the terror now striking his heart.

“We don’t have time, kid,” said Phillips calmly. “Let me go ahead and take her out.”

The Senator felt faint.

“You want to, really? Because I was actually starting to look forward to doing it myself. See, I came too late for the party and by the time I’d gotten here, it was already clean-up time. Okay, okay, okay. Here’s an idea. Let me have a little fun with her first, and then you get to put her out of her misery. Is that a deal?”

“I have an even better idea,” said Phillips. “I’ll kill you…” The first shot went cleanly into the young man’s jabbering mouth, the second squarely into his neck. “And nobody has fun with her. Does that sound like a good plan?”

The young man dropt to his knees, blood spraying from his neck like a geyser. Then he fell flat upon his face.

The elderly jeweller, as it turned out, was an excellent shot.

The Senator remained frozen where he stood. Alice was equally immobilized by what she had just seen.