riggers. Grunt, you go with Wladas. Wong and Jim, second. We..." I glanced at the crane operator staring at the cliffs and the armed men overseeing our ascent, "Georgie and I will go last."
The Chinese motioned to Grunt who struggled onto his feet. Wong attached his hook to a lock ring and waved to the goons overhead.
"Heave up!" I shouted back and added in a low voice,
"Do they understand Russian?"
"Everybody does," Georgie grumbled. "Even in New Pang they speak it better than we do, and New Pang is McLean's stomping ground."
The rain stopped abruptly. Just a moment ago, billions of raindrops had been hitting the earth around us, and now they were all gone, their pattering subsiding, the roar of the surf behind growing closer and louder.
I raised my head to look back at the ocean. The storm clouds dispersed and melted as I watched. I could already make out the outline of the jumpgate base, its wall bristling with square radio telescope dishes. I had a sick feeling I'd seen it all before from this particular angle, as if watching my own life from the sidelines.
"New Pang is the city on the west coast, right?" I asked.
"It is," Georgie spat onto the sand watching Grunt and Wladas being hoisted up the cliff slope.
"How about an Old Pang? Logically , there should be-"
" No such thing. Not much worth mentioning, rather. Just some ruins."
Georgie squatted, stuck a finger into the sand and drew the Continent's outline and a double-ended arrow pointing north and south. He looked up at me.
"Where are we now?" I squatted next to him.
Georgie drew a horizontal line across the picture. "Equator," he explained and pointed at the south west corner. "We're here."
Something snapped in my head again, and the map of Continent Anomalous lit up before my eyes overlapping the crane operator's clumsy drawing. His finger moved north east.
"Nothing but mountains furt her up," he said. "This is swamp," he drew an ellipse, made a hole in the sand next to it and said, "And this is the City of Forecomers."
"What city?"
"No one really knows," we rose and he started shaking the sand off his hands. "Just a name for some poor devils that used to inhabit Pangea before us ages ago. So they built those structures to live in. We've tried to settle there... didn't work."
"What, nobody there at all now?"
"Only some farmers but they're much further south, closer to the river. They wouldn't go near the ruins."
"Because of the swamps," I suggested comparing Information's facts. But he didn't hear me, glancing upward and shifting his feet.
"What can we do about McLean's men?" I asked as Jim and Wong hooked themselves up and started ascending. "What weaponry might they have?"
"Shotguns and handguns, that's for sure," Georgie grumbled. " Let me think... Sometimes they carry heavy carbines and machine guns but that's normally when they go to the plains. Good for fighting off tigers."
"Come on, then," I drew the machete and walked toward the foot of the cliff foot where the rope dangled.
"You surely don't mean you're gonna fight them?"
" I might," I caught the end of the rope, "unless you have any other suggestions."
Georgie approached and clipp ed his hook to the rope without saying a word.
"They wouldn't start with strangers, right? " I said. "They can tell by our clothes we're new so they'll leave us till last."
He nodded.
"As for you," I hooked myself up to the rope hearing some heavy-duty bumping and swearing overhead, "they'll probably deal with you first before taking you to McLean."
" Deal with us! Beat us to pulp, more like. They've already started, can't you hear? So what do you suggest?"
"Haul us up!" I shouted and added in a low voice. "Don't do anything without my signal."
When we were about ten feet away from the surface, I heard a female voice overhead. Georgie swore under his breath.
"Who is it?" I whispered.
"Kathy. She's French," he stared at the three human shapes looming on the cliff edge. "She's a real bitch from
The Chinese motioned to Grunt who struggled onto his feet. Wong attached his hook to a lock ring and waved to the goons overhead.
"Heave up!" I shouted back and added in a low voice,
"Do they understand Russian?"
"Everybody does," Georgie grumbled. "Even in New Pang they speak it better than we do, and New Pang is McLean's stomping ground."
The rain stopped abruptly. Just a moment ago, billions of raindrops had been hitting the earth around us, and now they were all gone, their pattering subsiding, the roar of the surf behind growing closer and louder.
I raised my head to look back at the ocean. The storm clouds dispersed and melted as I watched. I could already make out the outline of the jumpgate base, its wall bristling with square radio telescope dishes. I had a sick feeling I'd seen it all before from this particular angle, as if watching my own life from the sidelines.
"New Pang is the city on the west coast, right?" I asked.
"It is," Georgie spat onto the sand watching Grunt and Wladas being hoisted up the cliff slope.
"How about an Old Pang? Logically , there should be-"
" No such thing. Not much worth mentioning, rather. Just some ruins."
Georgie squatted, stuck a finger into the sand and drew the Continent's outline and a double-ended arrow pointing north and south. He looked up at me.
"Where are we now?" I squatted next to him.
Georgie drew a horizontal line across the picture. "Equator," he explained and pointed at the south west corner. "We're here."
Something snapped in my head again, and the map of Continent Anomalous lit up before my eyes overlapping the crane operator's clumsy drawing. His finger moved north east.
"Nothing but mountains furt her up," he said. "This is swamp," he drew an ellipse, made a hole in the sand next to it and said, "And this is the City of Forecomers."
"What city?"
"No one really knows," we rose and he started shaking the sand off his hands. "Just a name for some poor devils that used to inhabit Pangea before us ages ago. So they built those structures to live in. We've tried to settle there... didn't work."
"What, nobody there at all now?"
"Only some farmers but they're much further south, closer to the river. They wouldn't go near the ruins."
"Because of the swamps," I suggested comparing Information's facts. But he didn't hear me, glancing upward and shifting his feet.
"What can we do about McLean's men?" I asked as Jim and Wong hooked themselves up and started ascending. "What weaponry might they have?"
"Shotguns and handguns, that's for sure," Georgie grumbled. " Let me think... Sometimes they carry heavy carbines and machine guns but that's normally when they go to the plains. Good for fighting off tigers."
"Come on, then," I drew the machete and walked toward the foot of the cliff foot where the rope dangled.
"You surely don't mean you're gonna fight them?"
" I might," I caught the end of the rope, "unless you have any other suggestions."
Georgie approached and clipp ed his hook to the rope without saying a word.
"They wouldn't start with strangers, right? " I said. "They can tell by our clothes we're new so they'll leave us till last."
He nodded.
"As for you," I hooked myself up to the rope hearing some heavy-duty bumping and swearing overhead, "they'll probably deal with you first before taking you to McLean."
" Deal with us! Beat us to pulp, more like. They've already started, can't you hear? So what do you suggest?"
"Haul us up!" I shouted and added in a low voice. "Don't do anything without my signal."
When we were about ten feet away from the surface, I heard a female voice overhead. Georgie swore under his breath.
"Who is it?" I whispered.
"Kathy. She's French," he stared at the three human shapes looming on the cliff edge. "She's a real bitch from
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