wt.theyearofthequietsun-第40章

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tatic　told　him　that　the　batteries　had　not　survived　the　passage　of　time。　Chaney　dismissed　the　radio　as　of　no　further　value　and　prepared　himself　for　the　target。
　　He　was　disappointed　there　was　no　note　from　Katrina；　as　he'd　found　on　the　field　trial。
　　The　bullet…proof　vest　went　on　first。　Arthur　Saltus　had　warned　him　of　that；　had　shown　him　the　valued　protection　of　that：　Saltus　lived　only　because　he'd　worn　one。
　　Because　he　didn't　know　the　season　of　the　year…only　the　temperature…Chaney　donned　a　pair　of　boots　and　helped　himself　to　a　heavy　coat　and　a　pair　of　mittens。　He　picked　out　a　rifle；　loaded　it　as　Moresby　had　taught　him　to　do；　and　emptied　a　box　of　cartridges　in　his　pocket。　The　map　was　of　no　interest：　the　probes　into　Joliet　and　Chicago　had　been　hastily　cancelled　and　now　he　was　restricted　to　the　station　itself。　Check　it　out　quickly　and　jump　for　home　base。　Katrina　had　said　the　President　and　his　Cabinet　were　awaiting　a　final　report　before　concluding　a　course　of　remedial　action。　They　called　it　〃formulating　a　policy　of　positive　polarization；〃　whatever　that　was。
　　A　last　tour　of　the　station　and　the　survey　was　ended；　that　much　of　the　future　would　be　known　and　mapped。
　　Chaney　slung　a　canteen　of　water　over　his　shoulder；　then　stuffed　a　knapsack　with　rations　and　matches　and　hung　it　from　the　other　shoulder；　he　didn't　expect　to　be　outside　long　enough　to　use　either　one。　He　was　pleased　the　aged　batteries　didn't　work…that　was　excuse　enough　to　leave　radio　and　recorder　behind…but　he　fitted　film　into　the　camera　because　Gilbert　Seabrooke　had　asked　for　a　record　of　the　destruction　of　the　station。　The　verbal　description　offered　by　Saltus　had　been　a　depressing　one。　One　last　searching　examination　of　the　room　gave　him　no　other　article　he　thought　he　would　need。
　　Chaney　licked　his　lips；　now　dry　with　apprehension；　and　quit　the　shelter。
　　The　corridor　ended　and　a　flight　of　stairs　led　up　to　the　operations　exit。　The　painted　sign　prohibiting　the　carrying　of　arms　beyond　the　door　had　been　defaced：　a　large　slash　of　black　paint　was　smeared　from　the　first　sentence　to　the　last；　half　obliterating　the　words　and　voiding　the　warning。　Chaney　noted　the　time；　and　set　the　two　lanterns　down　on　the　top　step　to　await　his　return。　He　fitted　the　keys　into　the　twin　locks　and　stepped　out　hesitantly　into　the　open　air。
　　The　day　was　bright　with　sunshine　but　sharply　chill。　The　sky　was　new；　blue；　and　clear　of　aircraft；　it　looked　freshly　scrubbed；　a　different　sky　than　the　hazy　polluted　one　he　had　known　almost　all　his　life。　Patches　of　light　frost　clung　to　the　protected　spots　not　yet　touched　by　the　sun。
　　His　watch　read　9：30；　and　he　guessed　the　time　was　about　right…the　bright　morning　outside　was　still　new。
　　A　two…wheeled　cart　waited　in　the　parking　lot。
　　Chaney　eyed　the　crude　apparition；　prepared　for　almost　anything　but　that。　The　cart　was　not　too　skillfully　made；　having　been　put　together　with　used　lumber；　an　axle；　and　a　pair　of　wheels　taken　from　one　of　the　small　electric　cars　Saltus　had　described。　Strands　of　machine　wire　had　been　employed　to　hold　the　four　sides　together　where　nails　failed　to　do　an　adequate　job；　and　to　fasten　the　bed　to　the　axle；　the　tires　were　long　rotted　away　and　the　cart　rode　on　metal　rims。　No　skilled　carpenter　had　fitted　it　together。
　　The　second　object　to　catch　his　eye　was　a　heaped　mound　of　clay　in　the　adjoining　area　that　had　once　been　a　flower　garden。　Unusually　tall　grass　and　weeds　grew　everywhere；　partially　obscuring　a　view　of　the　station　and　almost　blocking　sight　of　the　yellow　mound；　the　grass　grew　high　around　the　parking　lot；　and　beyond　it；　and　in　the　open　'spaces　surrounding　the　buildings　across　the　street。　Weeds　and　grass　filled　the　near　distance　as　far　as　the　eye　could　see；　and　he　was　reminded　of　the　buffalo　grass　said　to　have　grown　here　when　Illinois　was　an　Indian　prairie。　Time　had　done　that…time　and　neglect。　The　station　lawns　had　long　gone　unattended。
　　Moving　warily；　stopping　often　to　scan　the　area　around　him；　Chaney　approached　the　mound。
　　When　he　was　yet　a　distance　away　he　discovered　a　faint　trail　running　from　the　edge　of　the　lot；　through　the　garden　and　toward　the　mound　itself。　The　next　discovery　was　equally　blunt。　Alongside　the　path…almost　invisible　in　the　high　grass…was　a　water　channel；　a　crude　aqueduct　made　from　guttering　ripped　from　some　building　and　twisted　into　shape　to　serve　this　purpose。　Chaney　stopped　short　in　surprise　and　stared　at　the　guttering　and　the　nearby　mound；　already　guessing　at　what　he　would　find。　He　continued　the　stealthy　approach。
　　He　came　suddenly　into　a　clearing　in　the　rampant　grass　and　found　the　artifact：　a　cistern　with　a　crude　wooden　lid。　A　bucket　and　a　length　of　rope　rested　beside　it。
　　Chaney　slowly　circled　the　cistern　and　the　clay　that　had　e　from　the　excavation；　to　stumble　over　yet　another　channel　made　of　the　same　guttering；　the　second　aqueduct　ran　through　the　weeds　and　grass　toward　the　lab　building…probably　to　catch　the　run…off　from　the　roof。　The　clay　mound　was　not　fresh。　Struck　with　an　overwhelming　curiosity；　he　knelt　down　and　pried　away　the　lid　to　find　a　cistern　half　filled　with　water。　The　walls　of　the　pit　were　lined　with　old　brick　and　rough　stone　slabs　but　the　water　was　remarkably　clean；　and　he　looked　to　see　why。　Filters　made　of　screenwire　torn　from　a　window　were　fitted　over　the　ends　of　each　gutter　to　protect　the　cistern　from　ining　debris　and　small　animals。　The　gutters　themselves　were　free　of　leaves　and　trash；　and　an　effort　had　been　made　to　seal　the　joints　with　a　tarry　substance。
　　Chaney　put　down　the　rifle　and　bent　to　study　the　cistern　in　wonder。　It　was　already　recognizable。
　　Like　the　cart；　it　had　not　been　fashioned　by　skilled　hands。　The　shape　of　the　thing…the　lines　of　it…were　easily　familiar：　the　sides　not　quite　perpendicular；　the　mouth　not　evenly　rounded；　and　the　shaft　appearing　to　be　larger　near　the　bottom　than　at　the　top。　It　was　odd；　amateurish；　and　sunk　without　a　plumb　line…but　it　was　a　reasonably　faithful　copy　of　a　Nabataean　cistern　and　it　might　be　expected　to　hold　water　for　a　century　or　more。　In　this　place　it　was　startling。　Chaney　replaced　the　lid　and　climbed　to　his　feet。
　　When　he　turned　around　he　saw　the　grave。
　　It　shocked　him。　The　site　had　been　concealed　from　him　until　now　by　the　high　growth　of　the　garden；　but　again　a　faint　path　led　to　it　from　the　clearing　at　the　cistern。　The　mound　above　the　grave　was　low；　aged；　and　covered　by　a　short　weedy　grass；　the　cross　above　it　was　nailed　together　and　coated　with　fading　white　paint。　Dim　lettering　was　visible　on　the　crossarm。
　　Chaney　moved　in　and　knelt　again　to　read　it。
　　
　　　A　ditat　Deus　K
　　
　　The　gatehouse　door　had　been　loosed　from　its　hinges　and　taken　away…perhaps　to　build　the　cart。
　　Chaney　peered　warily　through　the　opening；　alert　for　danger　but　dreading　the　possibility　of　it；　then　stepped　inside　for　a　closer　examination。　The　room　was　bare。　No　trace　remained　of　the　men　who　had　died　there：　bone；　weapon；　scrap　of　cloth；　nothing。　Some　of　the　window　glass　had　been　knocked　out　but　other　panes　were　intact；　the　screenwire　had　been　taken　from　two　of　the　windows。　An　empty　place。
　　He　backed　out　and　turned　to　stare　at　the　gate。
　　It　was　shut　and　padlocked；　effectively　blocking　admittance　to　all　but　a　determined　climber；　and　an　effort　had　been　made　to　repair　the　damage　done　to　it。　Chaney　noted　all　that　in　a　single　glance　and　went　forward　to　study　the　additional　stoppers…the　added　warnings。　Three　grisly　talismans　hung　on　the　outside　of　the　gate　facing　the　road：　three　skulls；　taken　from　the　bodies　of　the　men　who'd　died　in　the　gatehouse　so　long　ago。　The　warning　to　would…be　trespassers　was　strikingly　clear。
　　Chaney　stared　at　the　skulls；　knowing　the　warnings　to　be　as　old　as　time；　he　knew　of　similar　monitions　which　had　guarded　towns　in　Palestine　before　the　Roman　conquest；　monitions　which　had　been　used　as　late　as　the　eighteenth　century　in　some　of　the　more　remote　villages　of　the　Negev。
　　He　saw　no　one　in　the　area：　the　entrance　and　its　approaches　were　deserted；　the　warning　well　taken。　Weeds　and　waist…high　grass　grew　in　the　ditches　and　the　fields　on　either　side　of　the　road　leading　to　the　distant　highway　but　the　grass　had　not　been　disturbed　by　the　passage　of　men。　The　blacktopped　road　was　empty；　the　white　li