"Thirteen."
* * * * *
It wasn't possible. Or was it? The boy was thin, stunted. And probably
sterile. Radiation exposure, years straight. No wonder he was so
small. His arms and legs were like pipecleaners, knobby, and thin.
Hendricks touched the boy's arm. His skin was dry and rough; radiation
skin. He bent down, looking into the boy's face. There was no
expression. Big eyes, big and dark.
"Are you blind?" Hendricks said.
"No. I can see some."
"How do you get away from the claws?"
"The claws?"
"The round things. That run and burrow."
"I don't understand."
Maybe there weren't any claws around. A lot of areas were free. They
collected mostly around bunkers, where there were people. The claws
had been designed to sense warmth, warmth of living things.
"You're lucky." Hendricks straightened up. "Well? Which way are you
going? Back--back there?"
"Can I come with you?"
"With _me_?" Hendricks folded his arms. "I'm going a long way. Miles.
I have to hurry." He looked at his watch. "I have to get there by
nightfall."
"I want to come."
Hendricks fumbled in his pack. "It isn't worth it. Here." He tossed
down the food cans he had with him. "You take these and go back.
Okay?"
The boy said nothing.
"I'll be coming back this way. In a day or so. If you're around here
when I come back you can come along with me. All right?"
"I want to go with you now."
"It's a long walk."
"I can walk."
Hendricks shifted uneasily. It made too good a target, two people
walking along. And the boy would slow him down. But he might not come
back this way. And if the boy were really all alone--
"Okay. Come along."
* * * * *
The boy fell in beside him. Hendricks strode along. The boy walked
silently, clutching his teddy bear.
"What's your name?" Hendricks said, after a time.
"David Edward Derring."
"David? What--what happened to your mother and father?"
"They died."
"How?"
"In the blast."
"How long ago?"
"Six years."