Off to the right, Swift Hall was a burnt-out ruin; God hadn’t spared the university’s divinity school. But Eckhart Hall still stood, and, but for broken windows, looked pretty much intact. Worn as he was, hope made Jens all but sprint the bike toward the entrance.
He started to leave it outside, then thought better of that and brought it in—no use giving booters temptation they didn’t need. “Where is everybody?” he called down the hallway. Only echoes answered. It’s after quitting time, he told himself, but hope flickered all the same.
He walked to the stairway, took the steps two at a time. No matter when the secretaries and such went home, the Met Lab scientists were busy almost around the clock. But the halls upstairs were empty and silent, the offices and labs not only vacant but methodically stripped. Wherever the Metallurgical Laboratory was, it didn’t live at the University of Chicago any more.
He trudged downstairs much more slowly than he’d gone up. Somebody was standing by his bicycle. He started to snatch his rifle off his shoulder, then recognized the man. “Andy!” he exclaimed
The gray-haired custodian whirled in surprise. “Jesus and Mary, it’s you, Dr. Larssen,” he said, his voice still flavored with the Auld Sod though he’d been born in Chicago. “I tell you true, I never thought I’d see you again.”
“Plenty of tines I never thought I’d get here,” Jens answered. “Where the devil has the Met Lab gone?”
Instead of answering directly, Reilly fumbled in his shirt pocket, pulled out a creased and stained envelope. “Your wife gave me this to give to you if ever you came back. Like I said, I had my doubts you would, but I always hung on to it, just on the off chance—”
“Andy, you’re a wonder.” Jens tore open the envelope. He let out a soft exclamation of delight as he recognized Barbara’s handwriting. The note was stained and blurry—probably from the janitor’s sweat—but the gist was still clear. Larssen shook his head in tired dismay. He’d come so far, been through so much.
“Denver?” he said aloud. “How the devil am I supposed to get to Denver?” Like the war, his journey had a long way to go.
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A Del Rey® Book
Published by Ballantine Books
Copyright © 1994 by Harry Turtledove
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York, and simultaneously in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto.
http://www.randomhouse.com
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 93-22133
eISBN: 978-0-345-45361-7
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