He knew the alleys and streets of Castletown, even in darkness. And they had light to guide them—more and more light throbbing up into the night sky behind them.
He cut across Mill Street, and on up southeastward to a residential street of cottages. Here, he gave Martha his pistol and had her stand guard over Pudgy while he himself looked for a car.
He found one, in the garage attached to the first cottage. He had to break through the house itself to enter the garage. The rooms were just as someone had left them, the furniture, the rugs, all the things they could not take with them in Evacuation, still in place.
Again, Wales felt a pang. Someone had toiled and planned for this little house and the things in it. And now it would not even endure until the common Doomsday—it would perish in the senseless flames.
He drove out into the street, and pushed Pudgy into the back seat. Taking no chances, he tied their prisoner's ankles too. Then, with Martha beside him, Wales drove fast up the steep streets southeast.
"Jay—look!" she cried, when they reached a crest. She was looking back. He stopped the car, and looked back with her.
The whole downtown section of Castletown blazed high toward the stars. The wind whirled sparks away in burning clouds, and a great pall of smoke lay toward them.
Southward from the center of town moved a river of torches. And from those streets, only now just kindling, above the crackle of flames came the distant boom of the Brotherhood drums, and their rising and falling chant.
Martha was crying. He put his arm around her, and turned her away from the sight.
"It doesn't mean anything, Martha. It would have only lasted the few months till Doomsday, anyway."