John's eyes popped open and he sat straight up. Something was wrong. The fat sun was just poking over the horizon and a strange chemical mist drifted lazily over the ground, throwing off a sulfurous odor and mixing with the rapidly dissipating morning dew. It left an oily film on the old man's makeshift dew-catcher. John rubbed his eyes and struggled to clear his head of foggy sleep.

Without warning the acrid stench of burning flesh and kerosene hit his nostrils and he was suddenly aware of a rushing, roaring sound off in the distance. "Oh, god," he muttered. rolling over and pounding on Teddy's chest. "Wake up! Wakeup!, Teddy, wake up!" John pressed on the giant's shoulder--good lord, he was as solid as a rock!

Climbing to his knees, John peered into the distance, towards the strange rushing sound, just as the enormous manchild began to stir.

"Wakey time, Der?" The giant rubbed is eyes and looked around. He was as startled as John to discover that his brother was nowhere in sight. Neither was Leggy.

John stood up just as the harsh, bright light of fire suddenly filled the camp. A warm wind caressed his cheeks and ruffled his hair. He squinted his eyes and peered into the distance just as the world quickly grew to unbelievable brightness--without warning the sky was filled with fire and the smell of burning. Hot ash and debris began to ran down all around and an explosive rumble pounded his ears. John was dazzled--could this be the Reckoning that his father had warned him of? The Rapture, the fear of which had been beaten into his mortal hide? Had the angels returned to once again render the Word and to purge the land? To warn him away from New York? John clutched the cross at his neck and dropped to his knees. The distant roar grew in volume, now an endless, drawn out rumble of thunder, marked with loud cracks and fiery hisses, to the point where John could barely hear Teddy's terrified, cornered animal, little boy shrieks. The ground began to tremble and shake. One of the caravan wheels buckled and slipped off of its block, causing the wagon to tilt at an odd angle. The wood creaked and moaned as the wind began to build to a gale.

Suddenly a plume of fire erupted from the ground, not a hundred yards from the camp, reaching up into the sky. A golden finger of living flame, reaching, ever reaching to into the air. It grew to an impossible height, until John thought that it would burn the bottoms of the thick, low clouds which filled the morning sky. The plume twisted and writhed, a giant, fiery snake thrusting itself out of the ground and into the world. It seemed to grow in length and intensity, burning more and more brightly with every passing second.

John held his cross on its chain out in front of him, as if to ward off an unknowable evil, or to identify himself to the Rapturers as a true believe, a member of the fold to be spared in this time of reckoning. He opened his mouth to utter a prayer of repentance and humility, but only gagged and coughed as a concussive blast drove a wall of thick black smoke directly into and over him, enveloping the camp, enveloping the world. John was blinded and Teddy's cries were lost in the suffocating swell. His breath was robbed from him and his lungs filled with a foul acrid burn. He was bathed in heat and felt his hair singe and his skin crawl.

And then the thick of it was past him. The air cleared until he could just make out the shadow of the caravan and the staggering, flailing giant. He could hear the cries of the woman and child inside of the tented wagon. He gagged and coughed and wretched onto the ground, as the smoke continued to clear.

The plume of fire still reached up towards the sky, bending and writhing in the air, but now it seemed somehow diminished--either that, or it was merely dulled by the still lingering banks of smoke and haze.

John stood up, still coughing, retching onto the ground--long dry heaves that reeked of the toxicity of the cloud. When he looked up he saw the unmistakable silhouette of a figure rushing toward him, seemingly from out of the plume itself. It was as wide as it was tall and appeared to be winged. It did not so much run as it seemed to glide over the ground and towards the camp. Closer and closer, faster and faster.

John watched and within moments the blurry silhouette took form and he was able to discern its dark shape--two dark shapes, really--from the black smoke and fiery glare behind them: It was Leggy, reclined in his wheelchair, hanging on for dear life, long hair and singed clothing billowing in the wind. And Derek was behind him, gripping the chair by its rusty handles, leaning forward and pushing, running, charging for all he was worth. And if John was not mistaken his friend was on fire--small flames danced upon his shoulders, licking at his cheeks and playing along the lengths of his arms.

"Whooooooo-hooooooooo-wheeeeeeeeee . . . . !" cried Leggy, his mouth open and his face turned up towards the fiery sky, gasping, gulping for air and hollering defiantly to the heavens. "Yeeeeeee-haw!"

Derek let go of the chair and dropped to the ground, rolling and sliding, desperately smothering the flames that were trying to devour his back and reach for his hair. The wheelchair continued to roll forward until Leggy brought it to a skidding halt in front of John. "Whoopie! Just like old times!" he shrieked, "You missed all the excitement, Johnny-boy… Heh, heh. Now help me find some water, I'm parched. Oh, and we gotta put out Derek," the old man hitched his thumb and pointed back towards his comrade, who by now was standing and brushing the dust from his clothes. His cheeks were singed and covered with dark, oily ash. Smoke rose from his clothes and patches of his army jacket were still smoldering. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off as Teddy tackled him, smothering his brother in a terrified embrace, and knocking the wind out of him.

"Der, Der-- The fire and smoke... It burned my eyes... Couldn't see..."

Derek patted his brother on the back and tried to escape his loving bear hug. "It's okay now, Teddy. The fire's all gone."

"To tell the truth," said Leggy, cracking an egg into the pan suspended over the camp fire, "I don't rightly know what happened." He paused and finished cracking the last of the eggs into the pan, added some salt, some strange Bedouin spices, and gave the concoction a brisk stir.

Then he reached back and removed a large, flat metal plate that had been fastened to the back of his chair. He held it in front of him like a shield. "It was this that saved us, though. I'll tell ya that fer sure," he smirked, holding up the metal plate and lowering his head to demonstrate how he had used it to shield him and Derek from the flames.

The face of the plate was badly charred, and before that it had been weathered and rusted, but John could just make out the vague remnant of red lettering across its surface: 'TEXACO.'

"Found it by the entrance to the nest," Leggy continued. "And good thing we did, too. We'dve been toast without it. Don't know what it could mean, though--we ain't nowhere near Texas..."

"We never even saw a bug," said Derek grimly. We creeped right up to the hole--"

"More of a crack," offered Leggy. "Kinda big for a hole.."

"A crevasse," suggested John.

"Chasm," laughed Leggy.

"Whatever, it was deep," said Derek, laughing too. "I lined up all the fire pots we had, all along the edge of it--"

"And I lit them!"

"And then we both kicked 'em in," Derek smiled and clapped the old man on the shoulder. "And that's it!"

"Ka-Pow!" they sang together, in harmony, breaking into a fit of hysterical laughter.

"Best I can figure," Leggy rubbed his chin when the laughter had finally subsided, "Them bugs was hoarding some sorta explosives down there." He turned to Raina, who until now had remained silent. "Your boys carrying any high-explosives, ma'am? Grenades? Dyno-mite?"

She shook her head.

"Well, someone else then," Derek said. "Who knows when. All's we know is that that nest must've just been jam packed with... something. Cuz ain't no fire pot gonna go up like that!"

"Yeah," agreed Leggy, shaking his head. "Either that, or the nest was sittin' on top of some kinda natural gas mine or somethin'..." he thought about this as he stirred the eggs. "Maybe that explains the Texaco sign. Maybe Texaco was a train line that was shipping gas from here to Texas. You know, in the Before Times," he offered.

"What's a train?" asked John, Derek and Tariq in unison. Teddy just looked generally confused. Raina said nothing, but shot her son a warning glare as if to say 'Hush!'.

Leggy laughed and leaned back in his chair. "It's sort of like a caravan trail," he said. "Only all the wagons are connected. And they run on tracks.

And there ain't no mules a pullin' 'em--" he slapped his forehead. "Jimminy! The bugs done got all the mules--how are we supposed to pull the wagon?"

No one said anything, but Raina tilted her head slightly and moved her eyes, almost imperceptibly, to glance at Teddy. Derek saw this and leapt to his feet. "No way, bitch!" He raised his hand to strike her.

"Wait!" said John. "There is one mule. Wandering over there past those cactus. I saw 'im when I was taking a leak."

"Must've been the one Teddy was tied to," suggested Leggy. "We'll use him."

John frowned. "One mule to pull an entire wagon?"

The group was silent. After a time, it was Teddy who spoke, "I want to ride in the tent, Der..."

Leggy rubbed his chin. "That mule'll have enough strength to get us to Moses Spring," he said. "If we take it slow. Once we get there, I doubt that he'll ever be good for anything again. But I think he just might be able to get us there. Or at least close. And then, if it comes to it…" the old man glanced a Teddy. "But it won't come to it. We can always abandon the wagon." Tariq started to protest but Raina put out a hand to stifle her son. "That ass'll make it to Moses," Derek said grimly. "If we beat him hard enough."

Leggy nodded. The rest of the morning was spent discussing insects, high explosives, and the potential endurance of one lowly mule. Raina and Tariq sat between Teddy and John the entire time, saying little. They had not protested when Derek had rummaged through the wagon and produced the rare quail eggs. And Raina had held a hand to quiet her son as Derek had plucked the quail itself from its tiny cage and broken its neck.

These men were dangerous, Raina had explained to her child the night before, and the rest of their clan were all dead. They were never coming back. And though these people had rescued them from the bugs, they were still not to be trusted. It was best to remain silent, to let them have their way until the reached Moses Spring. There, they would find other Bedouins who would be willing and obligated to come to the aid of their kidnapped clan-cousins.

At daybreak they loaded the wagon with enough supplies to get them to Moses Springs. All the other trade goods had be left to the desert, because there was no way for the mule to carry it all. The previous night Raina and Tariq had busied themselves burying the most valuable items--some jewelry, tools, and strange gadgets that none of the boys could identify. Everything else they heaped into a pile away from the road and planted a small flag with their tribe's crest next to the pile. They hoped to reclaim their goods, but Raina didn't hold out much hope. Any Bedouin who came across the goods would honor the flag and leave the wares unmolested, or even return them to Moses Springs. But there were other desert wanderers--scavengers, thieves, nomads--who would make off with everything they could carry. At least the buried items might go undiscovered until they could return.

"Mother," said Tariq, "I will walk beside the wagon. That way we can store a few more goods, yes?"

She stroked her boy's cheek. "Thank you my brave son, but I want you near me. Your life is more valuable than a few extra pots and blankets." She crouched down to look into his eyes. "Remember this--don't ever let your possessions encumber you. A man who can't cast his goods aside to save his own life is a man enslaved. Do you understand?"

"Yes Mother," said Tariq, nodding seriously.

"Good. Now, how will we remember where we've hidden these things?"

"They are one hundred paces from where the road bends," said Tariq. "From here I can see a rock formation that looks like the face of old man with a big nose. And we have marked the spot with a stone the size of a water jug, and scratched our sign onto its underside."

"Well done. Now we'll return to the wagon. Stay near me and keep alert. Soon we'll be with our families again."

When they returned, Raina invited each of the men to choose items from the pile.

"It is the least form of repayment," said Raina.

"Don't go crazy, fellas," said Leggy as the boys made for the pile. "We supposed to be travelin' light." For himself he took only a whetstone and a mirror. The mirror was slightly bigger than a playing card, and fit inside a leather pouch that could be worn around the neck.

"What the hell you want to look at yourself for," asked Derek.

"For when I want to remember what handsome is," said Leggy. "It's easy for a man to forget when all he sees is your pokes."

John laughed. He fished through the pile until he found a new bedroll and a container of matches. Teddy choose a large blanket with intricate patterns weaved in red, gold, and black thread. He also found a flute-shaped instrument. It produce a reedy wail that Derek found instantly annoying, but Teddy wouldn't give it up.

Derek chose a small dagger in a wrist sheath and a leather belt. Then his eye caught site of a smooth cylinder, perhaps eight inches long. He bent to pick it up, thinking it was another instrument. Maybe it made a better sound than the one Teddy had fixed his heart on. But he was surprised by its weight. It wasn't hollow, and it was made of brass, not wood. As he picked it up, a smaller cylinder slid out so that the whole tube was now a foot long. One end was stopped with glass, and the other end had a strange, cup-like fixture attached to it.

"Ho now," said Leggy, wheeling over to Derek. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Don't know," said Derek. "What the hell is it?"

Leggy took it and put the cup piece to his eye. "Lord a'mighty," he said. "It's a spy glass. Come and see, boys."

They crowded around him. "This here is a device for making things far away seem closer. You set your eye on this end, and point the other end at whatever it is you want to see. Go ahead and give it a try."

One by one the boys put the device to their eyes. Each gasped in amazement as distant objects suddenly sprang into clear view.

"Sweet lord," said John. "I can see prickles on that cactus, and it must be three or four hundred yards from here."

"How's it work?" asked Derek.

Leggy scratched his head. "Don't quite know," he said. "It's got pieces of glass in it called lenses, sort of like spectacles. You fellas know what spectacles are, don't ya?"

"Sure," said Derek. "My daddy had specs. It made the words seem bigger on the page."

"Well that's it then," said Leggy. "It's in the way they shape the lenses. But that's a powerful tool you got. Take good care of it."

"I will," said Derek, snatching it from Teddy, who wanted to see how far up the mule's nostril he could look.

They set off at a slow pace, but still faster than they could've traveled on foot. The boys stayed in the shadow of the tent, happy to let the mule do all the work. Raina steered the wagon, her son at her side. They had both swaddled themselves up against the sun. The landscape rolled past them with dreary regularity.

"I don't think them Bedouins have to worry about too many people makin' off with their stuff," said John, scanning the baked, blasted earth and dry hills in the distance. "Who on earth could live out here?"

"You'd be surprised," said Leggy, swigging water from a fat, gurgling skin. "This place is a damn garden compared to the Wasteland. I'll wager that pile'll be picked clean by sundown."

Nobody said much as they traveled. They halted briefly at midday to water the mule and eat a meal, then rolled on again. All that day they met no one on the road. They halted again just after sundown. Raina steered the wagon into a small copse of Joshua trees. She hobbled the mule and then began to rub the beast down. Tariq gathered brushwood for a fire. John helped, but the rest of the group stayed put.

Raina poked her head into the tent. "There's a cistern near by. Will you help?"

Derek clapped Teddy on the back. "Go haul us some water, Okay Ted?" They loaded the man with skins and a pot or two. Tariq led him to the cistern.

Once the fire was going, Derek and Leggy got out of the wagon. They let Raina cook their meal, then lay back and looked into the night sky. The evening was clear, and stars were scattered across the horizon. John read quietly from the Book of Exodus. Tariq taught Teddy how to play a song on the pipe. The reedy wailing seemed to fit somehow with the night. It undulated upwards into the darkness, like the smoke from the campfire.

For the first time in a long while, Derek felt something like peace in his heart. The scene was downright…domestic. There was food, and fire, and companionship. He remembered that sometimes it had been like this with his mother and father, that once upon a time he had felt safe and content. Suddenly a feeling like homesickness welled up in him--not for that San Muyammo shithole, but for an earlier time, before he'd proven to be a failure to his father, before the knot of resentment had been looped and tied into his guts, growing tighter each year. Before his mother had gotten so sick that she withdrew into delirium and silence. A time when Teddy's childishness had been appropriate and not an embarrassment, before Derek's hands had turned to fists, first to beat anyone who mocked his brother, and then to beat his brother himself for being so mockable.

Derek felt himself choking. He stood up, eyes bleary, and stumbled away from the fire. "Gotta piss," he mumbled, then fled into the darkness, until they were far away enough that they wouldn't hear him as he flung himself to the dusty ground and wept.

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