One by one, the cities blossomed. The atmosphere rippled over each explosion, as if a giant steel ball had been dropped in a pond.

Over the western limb, beyond the Atlantic, a brighter-than-dawn glow was creeping, now yellow, now purple, now green.

The whole world was being swept by a crown fire, with the flames leaping not from tree to tree, but from city to city, continent to continent.

People were no more substantial than pine needles.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Six

Gerhardt and Lanier stood near several squads of soldiers guarding the entrance to the zero elevator. Gerhardt held up the field glasses. "Little specks," he said. "Mosquitoes. Most of them are coming down in this chamber. But quite a few appear to be crossing over." He handed the glasses to Lanier.

"Into the second chamber." The cool wind sliding down from the cap played with Lanier's hair. Lanier kept track of two of the specks in the glasses, following their contrails along the axis. He lowered the glasses to inspect the defenses around the two science team compounds.

"Yeah. Expecting us to have a bigger force here, which we do."

He raised his glasses again and saw broader white dots at a much lower angle, near the southern cap. "Parachutes," Lanier said. "Some are in the atmosphere now."

"Jesus, what an effort," Gerhardt said in admiration. He picked up his radio. "Zero south tunnels, forces coming your way. Bore hole, keep your eyes open."

Lanier could not concentrate. He kept thinking of the diversion; had they set fire to the world just to gain an advantage here? Hoping they could control the results with negotiation, keeping the casualties close to those of the Little Death? He suddenly grew sick of all the thousands of artificial modes of behavior conjured up by representatives of government, by military men, by patriots and traitors and fighters and—

He wanted to crawl away and sleep.

He could not keep from seeing in his imagination an image of Hoffman, on the road to Vandenberg in her limousine, hoping to escape the madness, to leave the dying aircraft and bail out—to come here, where the madness had spread, and not making it anyway; facing the blasts over Vandenberg.

"Do they know?" he asked.

"Know what?" Gerhardt said.

"Do the Russians know the Death has come?"

Gerhardt, who had never been in the library and had had none of Lanier's forewarning, frowned at him. "What are you asking, Garry?"

Lanier pointed up. "They're about to engage us in battle, but do they know neither of us have supreme commanders anymore?"

"Some leadership will survive," Gerhardt said.

"Oliver, does it matter?"

"You're goddamn fucking right it matters!" Gerhardt screamed at him, spittle beading on his chin. He wiped it away with the sleeve of his overalls, shaking his head and turning away, face reddening. "Don't go under now, Garry. We need everybody we can get."

"I'm going to fight," Lanier said.