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'Watch out！' Richard yelled。
'I got him；' Jack breathed。
'Where'd he go？'
'He fell off；' Jack said。 'He's dead。'
'You shot his hand off；' Richard whispered。 'How'd you do that？'
Jack held up his hands before him and saw how they shook。 The stink of gunpowder encased them。 'I just sort of imitated someone with good aim。' He put his hands down and licked his lips。
Twelve hours later； as the sun came up again over the Blasted Lands； neither boy had slept…they had spent the entire night as rigid as soldiers； holding their guns in their laps and straining to hear the smallest of noises。 Remembering how much ammunition the train was carrying； every now and then Jack randomly aimed a few rounds at the lip of the valley。 And that second entire day； if there were people or monsters in this far sector of the Blasted Lands； they let the boys pass unmolested。 Which could mean； Jack tiredly thought； that they knew about the guns。 Or that out here； so near to the western shore； nobody wanted to mess with Morgan's train。 He said none of this to Richard； whose eyes were filmy and unfocused； and who seemed feverish much of the time。
12
By evening of that day； Jack began to smell saltwater in the acrid air。
CHAPTER 36
Jack and Richard Go to War
1
The sunset that night was wider…the land had begun to open out again as they approached the ocean…but not so spectacular。 Jack stopped the train at the top of an eroded hill and climbed back to the flatcar again。 He poked about for nearly an hour…until the sullen colors had faded from the sky and a quarter moon had risen in the east…and brought back six boxes； all marked LENSES。
'Open those；' he told Richard。 'Get a count。 You're appointed Keeper of the Clips。'
'Marvelous；' Richard said in a wan voice。 'I knew I was getting all that education for something。'
Jack went back to the flatcar again and pried up the lid of one of the crates marked MACHINE PARTS。 While he was doing this he heard a harsh； hoarse cry somewhere off in the darkness； followed by a shrill scream of pain。
'Jack？ Jack； you back there？'
'Right here！' Jack called。 He thought it very unwise for the two of them to be yelling back and forth like a couple of washerwomen over a back fence； but Richard's voice suggested that he was close to panicking。
'You ing back pretty soon？'
'Be right there！' Jack called； levering faster and harder with the Uzi's barrel。 They were leaving the Blasted Lands behind； but Jack still didn't want to stand at a stop for too long。 It would have been simpler if he could have just carried the box of machine…guns back to the engine； but it was too heavy。
They ain't heavy； they're my Uzis； Jack thought； and giggled a little in the dark。
'Jack？' Richard's voice was high…pitched； frantic。
'Hold your water； chum；' he said。
'Don't call me chum；' Richard said。
Nails shrieked out of the crate's lid； and it came up enough for Jack to be able to pull it off。 He grabbed two of the grease…guns and was starting back when he saw another box…it was about the size of a portable…TV carton。 A fold of the tarp had covered it previously。
Jack went skittering across the top of the boxcar under the faint moonlight； feeling the breeze blow into his face。 It was clean…no taint of rotted perfume； no feeling of corruption； just clean dampness and the unmistakable scent of salt。
'What were you doing？' Richard scolded。 'Jack； we have guns！ And we have bullets！ Why did you want to go back and get more？ Something could have climbed up here while you were playing around！'
'More guns because machine…guns have a tendency to overheat；' Jack said。 'More bullets because we may have to shoot a lot。 I watch TV； too； you see。' He started back toward the flatcar again。 He wanted to see what was in that square box。
Richard grabbed him。 Panic turned his hand into a birdlike talon。
'Richard； it's going to be all right…'
'Something might grab you off！'
'I think we're almost out of the Bl…'
'Something might grab me off！ Jack； don't leave me alone！'
Richard burst into tears。 He did not turn away from Jack or put his hands to his face； he only stood there； his face twisted； his eyes spouting tears。 He looked cruelly naked to Jack just then。 Jack folded him into his arms and held him。
'If something gets you and kills you； what happens to me？' Richard sobbed。 'How would I ever； ever； get out of this place？'
I don't know； Jack thought。 I really don't know。
2
So Richard came with him on Jack's last trip to the travelling ammo dump on the flatcar。 This meant boosting him up the ladder and then supporting him along the top of the boxcar and helping him carefully down； as one might help a crippled old lady across a street。 Rational Richard was making a mental eback…but physically he was growing steadily worse。
Although preservative grease was bleeding out between its boards； the square box was marked FRUIT。 Nor was that pletely inaccurate； Jack discovered when they got it open。 The box was full of pineapples。 The exploding kind。
'Holy Hannah；' Richard whispered。
'Whoever she is；' Jack agreed。 'Help me。 I think we can each get four or five down our shirts。'
'Why do you want all this firepower？' Richard asked。 'Are you expecting to fight an army？'
'Something like that。'
3
Richard looked up into the sky as he and Jack were recrossing the top of the boxcar； and a wave of faintness overtook him。 Richard tottered and Jack had to grab him to keep him from toppling over the side。 He had realized that he could recognize constellations of neither the Northern Hemisphere nor the Southern。 Those were alien stars up there 。 。 。 but there were patterns； and somewhere in this unknown； unbelievable world； sailors might be navigating by them。 It was that thought which brought the reality of all this home to Richard…brought it home with a final； undeniable thud。
Then Jack's voice was calling him back from far away： 'Hey； Richie！ Jason！ You almost fell over the side！'
Finally they were in the cab again。
Jack pushed the lever into the forward gear； pressed down on the accelerator bar； and Morgan of Orris's oversized flash…light started to move forward again。 Jack glanced down at the floor of the cab： four Uzi machine…guns； almost twenty piles of clips； ten to a pile； and ten hand grenades with pull…pins that looked like the pop…tops of beercans。
'If we haven't got enough stuff now；' Jack said； 'we might as well forget it。'
'What are you expecting； Jack？'
Jack only shook his head。
'Guess you must think I'm a real jerk； huh？' Richard asked。
Jack grinned。 'Always have； chum。'
'Don't call me chum！'
'Chum…chum…chum！'
This time the old joke raised a small smile。 Not much； and it rather highlighted the growing line of lip…blisters on Richard's mouth 。 。 。 but better than nothing。
'Will you be okay if I go back to sleep？' Richard asked； brushing machine…gun clips aside and settling in a corner of the cab with Jack's serape over him。 'All that climbing and carrying 。