“Radiation suits — have to wear them in this damned place. Now about that tire…”
“Yes, sir!” Gary walked around to the front of the truck and squinted at the wrecked rubber. That tire would never roll again. “Keep a sharp lookout, Lieutenant. Don't want somebody to take a shot at me.” He slid the jack under the front axle and began pumping. The wheel slowly rose in the air.
Gary was in high humor but he was careful not to let it show on his face. These, he told himself with bitter amusement, these were some of the surviving heroes from the eastern cellars. The very adroit way he had taken them in revealed their ignorance of the harsh world they were passing through, revealed how little they knew of the dangerous men who now inhabited that world. They still trusted another man. These, then, were from some sheltered place in the East, journeying westward to some point on the Mississippi. Or across the Mississippi. That sudden thought shocked him, stilled his fingers.
Their destination was on the other side of the river! Two trucks, each containing three men if he had judged correctly; two trucks and six men driving for the quarantine line, carrying with them their supplies and radiation Suits to protect them while passing through contaminated territory. With smoldering excitement he slid the wheel off the hub and replaced it with the spare. Unscrewing the valve cap, he reversed it and jammed it down inside the valve as he let the jack drop the car. There was a faint whisper of escaping air.
He stood up. “You want the jack back, Lieutenant?”
The man hesitated, struck by a new worry. He hadn't considered that complication before allowing Gary to work on the tire and now he was unsure whether allowing him to handle it had somehow contaminated the tool. His face mirrored his uncertainty and he cursed himself for his shortsightedness. Finally he ordered, “Put it in the back… easy now.”
“Yes, sir.” Gary went around to the rear and found the door opened for him. He peered into the darkened interior, found himself Staring into the bore of the machine gun. The gunner was seated on a packing case watching him, a cigarette hanging from his lips. The truck was loaded with similar wooden cases. Gary sniffed at the cigarette smoke.
“Toss it in,” the gunner said sharply.
“Okay, bud.” Gary dropped the jack on the nearest box and backed away, his eyes on the cigarette. The gunner reached out and closed the door.
“Well done, Corporal,” the lieutenant called. “I shall mention this in my reports. You have been of valuable assistance to your government today.”