“Thank you, Dis,” Gene said, still cautiously keeping his head below the top of the U-shaped metal cabinet he and Vaya had instinctively ducked behind.
“May we serve you in any way?”
“Yes, tell me this. If you’re the city of Annau, who’s that wacko topside?”
“A long time ago there was a malfunction,” Dis said. “It became necessary for this unit to divorce itself from a number of subsystems which had ceased to function rationally. Control of some areas of the city had to be relinquished. As a result, we hold sway below a certain subbasement level, while the irrational units maintain control from that level up.”
Gene stood. “I take it you’ve had some trouble with these units in the past.”
“Yes. They have tried to extend their control. We have resisted to the limits of our ability.”
“Can you build weapons?”
“Within strict guidelines laid down by the Masters, yes. The city must be preserved at all cost.”
“A loophole!” Gene rejoiced. “But more of that later. Right now, we need food and water. Can do?”
“Certainly. Is the female yalim your property?”
“She’s my wife.”
“I’m sorry, I have the term in my vocabulary, but —”
“Companion. She’s with me.”
“Very well. You are guests of the city. We are sorry that we cannot provide some of the amenities available above, but we will do our best.”
“What the two of us really need is a vehicle for interdimensional travel,” Gene said, half in jest. “Got one handy?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I thought as much. It’s just a wild, crazy idea I had. There’s a legend somewhere that a long time ago, such a device was built in Annau. Just a legend, I guess.”
“One moment, please.”
They waited. “I may have said the magic word,” Gene mused.
After a minute or so Dis said, “It is not a legend. One such device was indeed built in the city, some three thousand years after the Founding. We can give only an approximate date. But the device is listed among the exhibits in one of the city’s museums.”
“Great! Forget the food, just lead us to it!”
“We regret to say that we cannot do that,” Dis replied, “as the museum is in an area of the city not under our control.”
Vaya gave him a consoling squeeze.
“Drat.”
“We are deeply sorry,” Dis said.
“Forget it.” Gene kicked a standing pipe. It rang, echoing in the deserted darkness. “Well, then, how about two steaks, medium rare?”
Thirty-one
Back Road
Snowclaw got off the main highway, seeking anonymity on lesser roads. He kept turning off until he found a rural two-lane blacktop with no traffic, reassuringly dark and lonely. No curious human eyes, no guys with badges. He felt fine now, though he was getting a little worried that he might never make it back to Halfway House.
He sure missed Gene. Back at the castle, Snowy could usually find him, using the limited magical powers at Snowy’s disposal. But not here Snowy hadn’t the foggiest notion how you did anything magical in this place.
He had quickly mastered the art of driving, although heavy traffic and congestion got him a little nervous, and bright lights disoriented him. He preferred this, a cold, dark night, a deserted road, and no problems.
Except that he was pretty hungry. No, not hungry. Famished. Ravenous. He had chewed all the tobacco and had run out of cans of motor oil. There was a whole shipment of tobacco in the back of the truck, but he didn’t want to stop. Besides, the stuff didn’t taste all that good.
Funny. He had a strange yen for some of it, anyway. He shrugged it off. Just hungry, is what he was.
These little houses along the road. Maybe if he stopped in, introduced himself, explained his predicament …
Well, no, that wouldn’t do. He knew enough about humans not to expect the warmest of welcomes. What, then? Follow his nose, was the only thing. He knew he was closer to Halfway now, but he didn’t know how close, or how far. What he had to do was get out of this truck and get into the woods. There he could use his powerful sense of smell better. Maybe sniff out a way home.
No, keep driving. There was still some raw distance to be disposed of yet. He remembered the way the trees looked at Halfway. It was hard to see out there, but from what he could make of the vegetation, it looked similar, but not quite right. It might be easier to tell in the green season. But this was the dead of winter. Not a proper winter, actually. In fact, to Snowy it was positively balmy. Good for sunbathing.
The terrain didn’t look right, either. At Halfway it was more hilly. Mountainous, even. Keep to the truck for a little while at least.
Something ahead. A little town, it looked like, and a junction with another road. There was a single red light hanging above the intersection, but Snowy didn’t notice it until it was too late to stop. He blew through the intersection at fifty miles an hour.
He drove on out of town. Suddenly the red light seemed to be following him, and now it was flashing. He heard a high-pitched whoop that hurt his ears.
He saw that the light was mounted on a little vehicle, coming up fast. Snowy tromped on the power pedal.
But it was no go. The little vehicle was too fast.
It pulled alongside, its little red light still blinking. The human driver was in uniform.
Snowy knew a policeman when he saw one, but he wasn’t about to stop.
The cop looked up at him, motioning for Snowy to pull over. Snowy waved. The cop did a double take, then dropped back. Snowy laughed.
The truck’s engine coughed once, and Snowy eased off the pedal a little, but then it sputtered and quit altogether. Snowy worried the ignition key, and the starter whined and churned. But the engine wouldn’t catch. The truck was dead, and so was Snowy.
As the truck drifted to a stop, Snowy looked at the dials and gauges on the dashboard. He knew he had not done something right. Just what, he might never know. Probably had something to do with a “gas station.” You were supposed to stop into those every once in a while and fill the truck up with some kind of gas. He had watched the kid do it a while back. A good while back, and that was probably what the problem was.
“All right, get out of the truck, hands up!”
Snowy looked out the window. The cop had stopped and was crouching behind an open door of the car, gun drawn and pointed at Snowy.
“Do it!” the cop yelled.
“Anything you say,” Snowy said.
He got out.
The cop’s face went slack at the sight of Snowy’s huge bulk. “All right,” he said, trying to mask his nervousness. “Take off that monkey suit, right now.”
“What’s a monkey?” Snowy asked.
“Don’t give me any trouble, bud, or you’ll regret it.”
“You’re the boss.” Snowy began to peel off the running jacket that Dave had recommended he buy.
“Take off the mask!” the cop growled.
Snowy said, “That I can’t do, friend.”
The cop came out from behind the door. “All right, play it that way. Turn around and put your hands over the hood.”
Snowy threw off the jacket. The icy air felt good against his fur. “Sorry, friend. I don’t have any time to waste.”
“You’re gonna have all the time in the world now, pal. Turn around there.”
Snowy turned and let the human lay hands on him.
The cop ran his hand up and down Snowy’s back.
“Hey, what is this? Where’s the damn …?”
“Something wrong, Officer?”
“Jesus. Jesus! It’s real. There’s skin under here!”
“I told you.”
“Jesus Christ.”