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mist, and as it came down it burned those it fell on. Most of those burned by it have bought the farm, but some are still living. Better off chilled, if you ask me, but you can’t just let them…”
    She paused again, gathering herself. “I got lucky. The first gren of orange mist fell away from where I was standing. Shit, when I saw it burn, I ran. No way did I want that on me. I managed to get to cover, watched the rest. I shoulda done something, but I didn’t know what. And I was scared. Like some fucking madman, he just stands there, saying nothing. Real careful, like he was totally in control, he fires at all the buildings, picking those on the corners of the streets with the most people jammed in ’em to start with. People falling over each other, pissing themselves with fear. Easy meat…
    “When the mist is falling, and people are burning, and there’s brick and stone and shit raining down, with all the buildings on fire, he takes the long-barreled blaster again and starts to pick off men at random. Then he stops, nods to himself like he’s just been told to stop and gets back on the bike.
    “No one’s fired back, One-eye. No one. Can you believe that? All so…frightened? Froze in fear? I dunno…He just gets on the bike, revs the fucker up and rides out. Weaving past the bricks, the chilled, the orange shit on the ground, just like none of it’s there. Just like he hasn’t just taken out our entire ville.
    “So he’s gone, and we have to pick up the pieces and try to fix it as new.” She laughed bitterly, hawked and spit.
    “You wanted to know what happened? That’s what happened, One-eye.”
     
    W HEN THEY RETURNED to the center of the ville, Mildred and Krysty had been able to start making some small difference. The path between the debris had also been improved by small teams under the direction of J.B. and Jak. They had only children to help them, the women being occupied in the infirmary, but the youth of the ville were wiry and strong. Doc, meanwhile, had continued his single-minded pursuit of his task, and his white hair was plastered to his scalp, his coat long since discarded in a heap, shirtsleeves rolled up.
    Ryan paused for a moment, looking at the carnage with a fresh eye. The mystery rider had done this with no help, and with an armory that could comfortably be carried on a bike—a big bike, admittedly, but still one smaller than a wag. His words, which had seemed as so much stupe trash to the woman, made a kind of sense to the one-eyed man. The guy was crazy, sure. But crazy with a hell of an armory. That made him a triple-red threat.
    Thing was, could they take him on? He hadn’t promised the woman that they’d go after him, but if they were offered a reward? They were in no position to turn down jack or supplies. Moreover, Ryan had felt his instinct for self-preservation tugging at him. They’d already encountered the rider once, and by the sound of it they’d got lucky. Mebbe they wouldn’t be so lucky a second time, and there was inevitably going to be a second time. Trouble followed them, there was no denying. So mebbe it would be for the best to hunt it down and face it before it came up behind and caught them unawares.
    His reverie was interrupted by Jak.
    “Ryan, careful orange dirt,” the albino said without preamble. “Look…”
    He held out his hand. There was a smear of orange mud against the white skin of his palm, and showing around the smear was a red weal, blistering at the edges.
    “Get Mildred to look at that,” Ryan said.
    Jak grinned. “Gonna—not before show you, though. Some chem shit, stays burning a day after going off? Not seen before.”
    “Just got the story from her,” Ryan said softly, indicating the woman who had returned to joining Doc’s quest to deliver water. “Fill you all in later. This was our rider, and he’s one mad coldheart by the sound of it.”
    Jak gave the briefest of nods, turned and went across to the infirmary. Ryan