We had been assaulting him so mindlessly that my brain had been free to wonder why Martha, who was outside the truck and had her own gun, was doing nothing to stop us. I received my answer the next instant, as I heard the door to the rear of the truck slam closed. There was a deep rasping sound like the tumblers of a vault sliding into position. Instantly, Gunther stopped struggling, even as his entire body tensed beneath me.

“Oh no,” he gasped, softly, with such a look of fear on his face that I was newly frightened without knowing why. The adrenaline was no longer working for me. I pinned him down, but he wasn’t struggling. Gail found the gun on the floor of the truck and quickly picked it up.

The truck was so black now that the battery-powered lantern seemed even more brilliant. We could hear and feel the truck’s powerful engine roll over and rev like a horde of synchronized motorcycles, then settle into a low, steady drone. What I’d earlier thought had been the sound of a seaplane’s engines had clearly been the truck’s powerful motor being tested under Gunther’s supervision.

“Where is she taking us?” I snapped at the horrified Gunther.

His eyes darted about the inside of the truck as if he were estimating how much of a load it could hold.

I said, “Gail, give me the gun.”

She did so, and I held the barrel of the Luger against his head. “I said, tell me where she’s taking us.”

“To hell,” he whispered in terror. “We’re already on our way.”

Chapter 55

55

At The End of The World

Gail felt the side of the truck. “It’s just vibrations,” she said. “I don’t think we’re moving.”

Gunther shook his head, “We won’t move. All the same, we’re being taken somewhere. And I am the mechanic of my own destruction.”

“What are you saying?” Gail asked.

His eyes were wide and bright with horror.

“This is a death truck. I did the modifications myself. It’s a simple matter to switch the truck’s venting system, which I did just a little while ago. The exhaust from the two pipes that vent above the rear of the cab is simply diverted into this trailer above the false ceiling, there.” He pointed, and I could see that on one side of the shiny metal ceiling there was a two-inch-wide vent that ran the length of the trailer. A specter of thin smoke was fingering its way down into our long metal chamber from the front end of the vent. As we spoke, the smoke extended ever farther along the vent, moving toward the back of the truck.