“Hey, you, stop!” I ignored this rude command since I had not the slightest desire to see who was calling, but slipped through the door instead and slammed ithshut behind me. Turned and looked around and felt a sharp pang of despair. There was no hope here. I was in an enormous chamber, badly lit by slits high in the wall. It was a garage for the steam cars. Five of them, lined up in a neat row.
It would be fine to escape in one of these, really wonderful. I had watched them in operation. First the fire had to be lit, then wood pushed in, steam raised. This usually took at least an hour. At that point, say, I could manage to do all this undisturbed, I h~d to open the door and clank to freedom at a slow walking pace. No way!
Or was there a way? As my eyes adjusted to the gloom I realized that these weren’t the same kind of steam cars I had seen beforewith their wooden wheels and iron tires. These had soft tires of some kind! Improved technology? Could it be ofiplanet technology disguised as antique wrecks?
I hurried over to the closest one and climbed up to the operator’s seat. There were the familiar big control levers and wheels-but invisible from the ground was a padded driver’s seat and familiar groundcar controls. This was more like it!
Slipping my gun under the seat, I slipped myself into it. A safety belt hung there, wise precaution, but not at the moment. I pushed it aside as I leaned forward to examine the controls. Motor switch, gear selector, speedometer-as well assome unfamiliar dials and controls. A banging on the door convinced me I should make a detailed study later. I reached out and turned on the motor. Nothing happened.
Or rather something totally unexpected happened. The motor didn’t start but a girl’s voice did, speaking in my ear.
“Do not attempt to start this vehicle without wearing your seatbelt.” “Seatbelt, right, thank you.” I clicked it on and turned the switch again.
“The engine will start only with the gear selector in neutral” The banging on the door was even louder. I cursed as I pushed the selector, trying to find the right location in the dim light.. The door crashed and splintered. There, now the switch again.
The motor turned over. I pushed the drive into forward. And the voice spoke.
“Do not attempt to drive with your handbrake on” I was cursing louder now, the small door broke down and crashed to the floor, pistons began to move around me while steam spurted and hissed. Someone shouted and the men in the door started towards me. The thing shuddered and lumbered forward.
This was more like it! Covered in steel plates and fake ironmongery, it must be incredibly heavy. There was a simple way to find out. I floored the accelerator, twisted the wheel-and pointed the hulk straight at the large door.
It was beautiful. The steam roared and spurted as I accelerated. Hitting the door dead center with a crash that deafened me. But my noble steed never slowed a fraction. Wood screeched and tore and fell away as I plowed through in a cloud of flying timber. I had a quick view of fleeing pedestrians before I had to duck down to prevent myself from being beheaded by a board. It scratched and clumped and fell away. I sat up and smiled with pleasure.
What a wonderful sight. Soldiers were fleeing in all directions, dashing for cover. I swung the wheel and spun in a tight circle looking for the way out. A bullet clanged into the steel plating and whined away. There the gate was-dead ahead. I floored the accelerator this time, then found the whistle cord. It screamed and steam spurted and I picked up speed.
And none too soon, either. Someone had kept his head and was trying to lift the drawbridge. Two men had plugged the handle into the clumsy winch and were turning it furiously; chains clanked and tightened. I headed for the center of the gate, whistle screeching, bullets beginning to spang on the steel around me. I crouched down and kept the pedal on the floor. I was going to have only one chance. The drawbridge was rising, slowly and steadily, cutting off my escape, getting larger and larger before me. It was up ten, twenty, thirty degrees. I was not going to make it.
We hit with a jar that would have thrown me out if the safety belt hadn’t been locked. Thank you, voice. The frsnt wheels rose up onto the drawbridge, higher and higher, until the nose of the car was pointing into the air. If it climbed any higher it would be flipped onto its back.
Which was a chance that I would just have to take. The gears growled and my transport of delimit bucked and chuntered-and I heard a squealing and snapping.
Then the whole thing pitched forward. The chains lifting the drawbridge had torn from their moorings under the massive weight of my car. The nose fell and we hit with a crash that almost stunned me.
But my foot was still down and the wheels were still turning. The vehicle shot forward-straight for the water. I twisted the steering wheel, straightened it, then tore across the bridge and onto the road. Faster and faster, up the hill and around the bend-then let up on the speed before we overturned on the ruts. I was safe and away.
“Jim,” I advised myself, gasping for breath. “Try not to do that again if you can avoid it. “ I looked back, but there was no one following me. But there would be, soon, if not on foot then in one of the other fake steam cars. I put my foot back down and kept my mouth clamped shut so it didn’t clack and splinter my teeth when we hit the bumps.
There was a long hill that slowed my pace. Even with the accelerator on the floor we crawled because of the gearing and the weight of the beast. I used the opportunity to check the charge-batteries full! They had better be because I had no way of recharging them once they ran down. Above the clatter and rumble I heard a thin and distant whistle and flashed a quick look over my shoulder. There they were! Two of the machines, hot on my tail.
There was no way they were going to catch me. Off the road these things would be useless and mired down-and there was only one road leading to Dimonte’s keep. I was on it and headed that way and I was going to keep them behind me all the way.
Except that if I led them there they would know who had pinched their wagon and would come after it with the gas bombs. No good. I looked back and saw that they were gaining-but they soon slowed to my pace when they reached the bottom of the hill. I went over the top and my speed picked up-as did the jarring. I hoped that they had built the thing to withstand this kind of beating. Then the crossroad loomed up ahead, with peasants leaping out of my way, and there was the left turning that would take me to Capo Dimonte. I streamed right through it. I didn’t know this road at all so all I could do was go on and keep my fingers crossed.
Something had to be done-and fairly soon. Even if I stayed ahead of them all day I would run the battery flat and that would be that. Think, Jim, cudgel the old brain cells.
Opportunity presented itself around the next bend. A rough farm track led off through a field and down to a stream. Then, like all good ideas, this one appeared ftillblown in my forebrain, complete in every detail.
Without hesitation I turned the wheel and trundled down into the meadow. Going slower and slower as I felt my wheels sink into the soft soil. If I got mired now it was the end. Or at least the end of my mastery of this cratewhich I would dearly like to keep for awhile. Carry on, Jim, but carefully.
At the lowest speed, in the lowest gear, I ground forward until the front wheels were in the stream. They were sinking mushily into the mud as I stopped-then carefully began to back out. Looking over my shoulder, keeping in the ruts I had made on the way down. Reversing out of the field until I was safely back on the road. As I shifted gears I permitted myself a quick glimpse of my work. Perfect! The ruts led straight down to the water and on into it.
On the road behind me r heard a not-too-distant whistle. I stood on the throttle and accelerated around the bend until I was hidden by the trees. Stopped, killed the engine, slammed on the brakes, and jumped down.