Read Pantheon 00 - Age of Godpunk for Free Online Page B

as only a Russian could on finding himself a voyager in the Land of Excess.
    “Must stock up on energy,” he said. “For when fun and games begin tomorrow.”
    Yes, tomorrow , said Anansi. The official start of the contest. But why wait? Someone took Juha out of the running early. Let’s do the same with Veles .
    On the counter, just by my right elbow, stood a spinner rack filled with Zippo lighters. They had a map of the state engraved on them – the outline reminiscent of a guillotine blade – along with the quip I GOT BURNED IN NEVADA . I checked out the minimart’s security cameras. The one trained on the counter was tightly aimed at the till clerk, no doubt to ensure the honesty of employees as well as of customers. There was another camera in the far corner of the premises, but I was well out of its range. Best of all, a Highway Patrol officer had just ambled in through the main entrance and was busy denuding the Krispy Kreme doughnut stand of most of its stock.
    Quick , Anansi hissed. Now .
    I palmed a Zippo off the rack and slipped it into Rodchenko’s back pocket.
    Two minutes later, Rodchenko was heading out across the forecourt to the Greyhound and I was informing the patrolman that an act of thievery had just taken place.
    “Him,” I said, pointing at the burly form of Rodchenko. “I saw him. He took a cigarette lighter without paying for it. It’s in his back pocket.”
    “Big fella with the plaid shirt?” said the patrolman. “You sure?”
    “Saw it with my own eyes.”
    I sounded plausible. My clean-cut English diction helped. I set my face, as any good lawyer can, in the expression that said, Would I lie to you?
    The patrolman set down his box of doughnuts and hurried outside. “Hey! Sir. Excuse me, sir? Hey! I want a word with you.”
    I sauntered by as the patrolman grilled Rodchenko. The Russian fixed me with a curious frown. I feigned obliviousness.
    Out of the blast-furnace heat, back in the air-conditioned bliss of the bus, I watched as Rodchenko obeyed the patrolman’s instruction to empty out his pockets. He evinced surprise at finding the Zippo on his person. The patrolman demanded to be shown the receipt for Rodchenko’s purchases. It didn’t take him long to establish that the Zippo was not on it. He led Rodchenko indoors by the elbow, the Russian protesting and remonstrating volubly.
    Just before he was taken back inside the minimart, Rodchenko turned and aimed an angry look towards the bus. His gaze met mine. He spat out some curse in his native language. I smiled serenely at him and waved.
    “Guess he won’t be rejoining us, then,” said the bus driver. “Doors closing. Everybody, please take your seats. Next stops: Roach, Primm, Sweetwater.”
    Excellent work , said Anansi, congratulating both me and himself.
    I wondered whether what I’d just done might be considered cheating.
    Cheating? Cheating!? Anansi dismissed my concerns with a scornful laugh. In a contest of tricksters, what’s fair and what’s not? I’ll tell you. Everything and nothing. Just because hostilities haven’t been declared yet, doesn’t mean we can’t get in a pre-emptive strike or two. Veles would have done the same to us, given half a chance. Initiative and ruthlessness. That’s how we’re going to survive to the end, Dion. Initiative and ruthlessness.
     
     
    S WEETWATER, JUST ACROSS the state line into California, had once had something going for it, namely a large lake. In the ’fifties and ’sixties, the town had been a handy stopover point for people travelling from Los Angeles to Vegas, and a resort besides, even if it had lacked the lure of the slot machines and gaming tables that lay in wait just a few miles further east. Boating, swimming, fishing, water sports in general: these had been its attractions, on a lake filled with cold limpid snowmelt straight from the slopes of the Sierra Nevada.
    Then, however, the main river that fed the lake basin had been diverted and dammed some