Rodney jerked his scarecrow length about quickly, and a chill sped up Martin's spine. "What's the matter?"
The bony face was white, the gray eyes were wide. "I saw—I thought I saw—something—moving—"
Anger rose in Martin. "You didn't," he said flatly, gripping the other's shoulder cruelly. "You couldn't have. Get hold of yourself, man!"
Rodney stared. "The wind. Remember? There isn't any, here."
"... How could there be? The buildings protect us now. It was blowing from the other direction."
Rodney wrenched free of Martin's grip. He gestured wildly. "That—"
"Martin!" Wass' voice came through the receivers in both their radios. "Martin, I can't get out!"
Rodney mumbled something, and Martin told him to shut up.
Wass said, more quietly, "Remember that metal band? It's all clear now, and glittering, as far as I can see. I can't get across it; it's like a glass wall."