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By Root 1768 0

would serve two purposes. They would, perhaps, be some measure of comfort to the families of the lost. They would, certainly, remind the man who had ordered them to the field that the dead had once been living. He wondered what their faces had been like. Probably no different from the Guardsmen who'd formed that honor guard at Indianapolis, the day of his first public appearance. They looked the same, but each human life was individual, the most valuable possession of its owner, and Ryan had played a part in stripping it away, and though he knew it had been necessary, it was also necessary for him, now and for as long as he sat in this building, to remember that they were more than just faces. And that, he told himself, is the difference. I know about my responsibility. He doesn't know about his. He still lived with the illusion that people were responsible to him, and not the reverse.

It's political dynamite, Mr. President, van Damm said.

So?

There is a legal problem, Pat Martin told them. It violates the executive order that President Ford put in place.

I know about that one, Ryan responded. But who decides the executive orders?

The Chief Executive, sir, Martin answered.

Draft me a new one.

WHAT IS THAT smell? Back at the Indiana motel, the truck drivers were out for the morning dance of moving the trucks around to protect the tires. They were sick of this place by now, and heartily wished the travel ban would be lifted soon. One driver had just exercised his Mack, and parked it back next to the cement truck. Spring was turning warm, and the metal bodies of the trucks turned the interiors into ovens. In the case of the cement truck, it was having an effect its owners hadn't thought about. You got a fuel leak? he asked Holbrook, then bent down to look. No, your tank's okay.

Maybe somebody had a little spill over at the pumps, the Mountain Man suggested.

Don't think so. They just hosed it down a while ago. We better find this. I seen a KW burn once 'cuz some mechanic fucked up. Killed the driver, that was on I-40 back in '85. Hell of a mess. He continued to walk around. You got a leak somewhere, ol' buddy. Let's check your fuel pump, he said next, turning the locks on the hood panels.

Hey, uh, wait a minute-I mean-

Don't sweat it, pard, I know how to fix the things. I save a good five grand a year doing my own work. The hood went up, and the trucker looked inside, reached to shake a few hoses, then felt the fuel-line connectors. Okay, they're all right. Next he looked at the line to the injectors. One nut was a little loose, but that was just the lock, and he twisted that back in place. There wasn't anything unusual. He bent down again to look underneath. Nothin' drippin'. Damn, he concluded, standing back up. Next he checked the wind. Maybe the smell was coming from no. He could smell breakfast cooking in the restaurant, his next stop of the day. The smell was coming from right here something else, too, not just diesel, now that he thought about it.

What's the problem, Coots? another driver asked, walking over.

Smell that? And both men stood there, sniffing the air like woodchucks.

Somebody got a bad tank?

Not that I can see. The first one looked at Holbrook. Look, I don't want to be unneighborly, but I'm an owner-operator, and I get nervous about my rig, y'know? Would you mind moving your truck over there? And I'd have somebody give the engine a look, okay?

Hey, sure, no problem, don't mind a bit. Holbrook remounted his truck, started it, and drove it slowly off, turning to park in a fairly vacant part of the lot. The other two watched him do it.

The goddamned smell went away, didn't it, Coots?

That is a sick truck.

Fuck 'im. About time for the news. Come on. The other driver waved.

Whoa! they heard on entering the restaurant. The TV was tuned to CNN. The scene looked like something from the special-effects department of a major studio. Nothing like that ever was real. But this was.

Colonel, what happened last night?

Well, Barry, the enemy came in on us twice. The first time, Eddington explained,