Chapter 1
_ Any man who saw you, or even heard your footsteps must be ambushed, stalked and killed, whether needed for food or not. Otherwise, so long as his strength held out, he would be on your trail. --The Twenty-Fifth Hour, by Herbert Best I was one hundred miles from Nowhere--and I mean that literally--when I spotted this girl out of the corner of my eye. I‘d been keeping an extra lookout because I still expected the other undead bugger left over from the murder party at Nowhere to be stalking me. [Illustration: They were two desperate scavengers in a no-man‘s land of radiation and death.] I‘d been following a line of high-voltage towers all canted over at the same gentlemanly tipsy angle by an old blast from the Last War. I judged the girl was going in the same general direction and was being edged over toward my course by a drift of dust that even at my distance showed dangerous metallic gleams and dark humps that might be dead men or cattle.

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