Joe saw that Ray intended to turn and kill Santa as soon as he dared take his eyes from the road, which had now deteriorated to raw dirt. Last summer a Colorado Highways truck had spread oil on the road as a thin binder, but a winter in the Rockies had passed, and the little oil that remained was patches of dark slick between long stretches of ice slick on a road that plunged 20 degrees down the mountainside; staying on the road would demand all of Ray’s concentration even as a passenger. Even if Joe wanted to stop and take the gun from Ray, the sedan behind would hit them and pitch them over the edge of the road into the darkness that lay like a sea around them.

Santa seemed totally unconscious of the road, the mountains, the dark, as if danger and natural phenomena lay in Joe’s area of expertise. Occasionally he had commented on the effect of moonlight on a snowy peak, or the glint of a river a thousand feet below; otherwise, he acted as if Joe had thoughtfully chosen a diverting route.

“You!”

Ray tried to snatch his eyes from up ahead in order to kill Santa, but erosion had carved the outer lane off the road and the brake lights in front of them blinked frantically, demanding his attention.

“Please take my word for it, Sergeant.” There was movement behind Joe and the tang of pipe tobacco. “Mind if I smoke, men?” A flame glowed for a moment. Joe thought that if he looked back there might be a blanket and a dog on Santa’s lap. “The three of us are like Helios, bearing the sun across the sky. A new sun, of course. Just as we call the moon when we can’t see it a new moon. There is an enormous synchronicity building toward Trinity, a psychic tension. You men feel it, I can sense it.”

“You want to sense something?”

Ray started to turn the tommy gun, but a rock slide had poured over a hairpin turn in the road and Joe had to brake and turn without locking wheels.

“That’s why I expect our problems at Trinity will be largely psychological.” There was a rustle of paper. “Do you mind if I ask a few questions?”

Joe downshifted. The ambulance slid over stones to the edge of the road. Larger rocks bounced in front and rang off the crankcase underneath.

“Sergeant Stingo, if you heard that you were in close proximity to radioactive material, would you feel comfortable, concerned, a little anxious, very anxious?”

“Shit,” Joe said.

The red taillights of the truck in front swung wildly.

“Boulder,” Joe said.