"Bel'kwinith," he said softly, and the wind seemed to pause, the shadow froze, an impurity in the cigar caused it to hiss and flare for a moment.
"The hell with it," he said then.
"What do you mean?" Mondamay asked him. "The hell with what?"
"Getting Chadwick."
"I thought we had been through all this. None of the alternatives struck you as sufficiently attractive."
"It's not worth it," he said. "The fat fool is just not worth it. Won't even do his own fighting."
"Fool? You once said he was a very clever man."
Red snorted.
"Humans! I suppose he's clever enough, as far as that goes. It still comes to nothing."
"Then what are you going to do?"
"Find him. And make him tell me some things. I believe he knows more about me than he ever let on. Things I may not even know."
"Because of things you are remembering?"
"Yes. And you may be right I—"
"I have detected something."
Red was on his feet
"Nearby?"
The shadow retreated about the rear of the vehicle.
"No. But it is moving in this direction."
"Animal, vegetable or mineral?"
"There is a machine involved. It is approaching cautiously... Get into the truck!"
The engine started as Red leaped into the vehicle. The doors slammed. A window began closing. Another shape-change commenced.
Flowers suddenly broadcast Mondamay's words to him.
"What a beautiful killing machine!" he said. "Spoiled in many ways by the organic adjunct. Nevertheless^ :
quite artfully designed."
"Mondamay!" he shouted as the truck shuddered. "Can you hear me?"
"Of course. Red. I wouldn't neglect you at a time like this. My, it's coming on fast!"
The truck creaked and twisted. The engine sputtered twice. A door opened, then slammed.
"What the hell is it?"
"A large, tanklike device packed with an amazing array of weapons and guided by a disembodied human brain which is, I believe, somewhat mad. I don't know
whether it really hails from around here or was shipped here to await your coming. Are you familiar with it?"
"I think I've heard of battle wagons like that somewhere along the line. I'm not certain where, though."
The sky caught fire like a sudden dawn, and a wave of flame rolled toward them. Mondamay raised an arm and it halted as if it had encountered an invisible wall, boiling for half a minute before it finally subsided.
"He's got atomics, all right Neatly done, that," he commented.
"Why are we still alive?"
"I blocked him."
Mondamay's arm flared for a moment and a distant hilltop took fire.
"Right in front of him," he observed. "That crater will slow him. You had better be going now, Red. Flowers, take him away."
"Right."
The truck turned and headed back across the field, still changing shape as it bounced along.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Red shouted.
The sky blazed again, but the small fireball was blocked, filtered, dimmed, forced back.
"I have to cover your retreat properly," came Mondamay's voice, "before I'll be free to deal with him. Flowers will get you back to the Road."
"Deal with him? How do you propose doing that? You can't even—"
There came an enormous explosion, followed by a burst of static. The truck shook, but continued on toward the dirt road. Dust swirled about them.
"—fully operational again," came Mondamay's voice. "Flowers was able to analyze my circuits and direct me in repairing myself—"
There came another explosion. Red was looking back, but their camping area was filled with smoke and dust. He was momentarily deafened, and when his hearing
returned, he realized it was Flowers's voice that was now addressing him.
"—are going? Where did you say we are going?"
"Huh? Out of here, I hope."
"Next destination! Coordinates! Quick!"
"Oh. C Twenty-seven, eighteenth exit, fourth right off that, second left from that, third left from that It is a large white building. Looks sort of Gothic."
"Got that?" she said.
"Yes," Mondamay's voice came through the static. "If I can locate the Road, I will try to follow when this is finished."
There came another explosion, followed by uninterrupted static. They hit the dirt road, turned and con. tinued on.
Two
Randy faced the slim Victorian gentleman whom he had met in the foyer. The man's bag was on the bench near the door. He ran a hand through light, thinning hair.
"... That is correct," he said. "Three days ago. They shot it out right in this parking lot. And I'd come down this way for a holiday! Violence!" He shuddered. The tic at the left comer of his mouth returned. "Mr. Dorakeen departed that night. I really cannot tell you where he went."
"Is there anyone here who could?" Randy asked.
"The host—Johnson—perhaps. They seemed to know one another."
Randy nodded.
"Could you tell me where I might find Johnson?"
The man gnawed his lip and shook his head, looking past Randy, across the dining room and into the bar, where an argument between a stunning redheaded woman and a heavyset black man was taking place.
"Sorry. Today seems to be his day off. I've no idea where he's gone. I can only suggest that you inquire at the desk, which is in the bar. Excuse me."
He moved around Randy, took a nervous step in the direction of the altercation. At that moment, however,
it ended. The woman said something sweet and taunting, smiled, turned and walked away, heading toward the foyer.
He sighed, retraced his route around Randy and picked up his bag. He offered the woman his arm as she approached. She took it and they departed together. He nodded sharply to Randy as they went out the door.
The man who had been arguing with the woman ;
stared at Randy as he entered the bar.
"Pardon me, but don't I know you from somewhere?" he asked. "You look very familiar ..."
Randy studied the dark features.
"Toba. The name's Toba," the other added.
"I don't believe so," Randy said slowly. "My name's Randy Carthage. C Twenty."
"Guess not, then." Toba shrugged. "Let me buy you
a beer, anyway."
Randy looked around the room—rough wood and ironwork; no brass, no mirror. There were four people at the bar, which also served as a reception desk, and two were at another table. ;
"The bartender stepped out a few minutes ago. Draw yourself a beer—they're very informal here—and I'll settle up when he comes back."
"Okay. Thanks."
Randy crossed the rush-strewn floor, filled a mug from the keg on the rack, returned to the table and seated himself across from Toba. There was a halffilled glass to his right and the chair stood angled away from the table beyond it. |
".., bitch," Toba muttered softly. Then, "Traveling this way on business?" he asked. |
Randy placed Leaves on the table, shook his head and sipped his beer. I
"I was looking for a guy, but he's already left."
"Just the opposite of my problem," Toba said. "I know where the guy I'm looking for is. I just stopped here for lunch. Then the damn girl I'm working with
picks someone up and takes off to visit a half-assed ruin! Now I'm going to have to get a room here and wait till she's done with him. Probably a day or two, damn it!"
"Who is he, anyway?"
"Huh? Who?"
"Your friend. The Englishman you were talking with."