Roadmarks (16 page)

"Him?" said the smaller man, drawing back as Red took away his camera. "Him? I've no intention of harming him. Ever! The game is over as far as I am concerned, too. My only reason for coming here was to tender my resignation by killing you. But now
—
”

He turned toward Red.

"What are
you
doing here?"

"I came to straighten things out. They're a lot straighter now. I don't believe that we've met . . . "

"We have, but I see that you do not recall. My name is Timyin Tin, and I have this thing about dragons. It is of a religious
—
”

A loud series of clumping noises, accompanied by shattering and tearing sounds from within the building, began a steady approach.

"In that case, stay right where you are," said Chadwick. "You are about to have a profound religious experience." He seized Red's arm. "Let's get the hell out of here!"

He tore off down the stairs, leaving the smaller man standing bewildered before the door. Red stumbled along beside him, nodding toward the blue pickup truck beside which Timyin Tin's small black car stood, its engine idling. The truck's doors flew open upon their approach, and Red slid into the front seat behind the driver's wheel. The engine started as Chadwick got in beside him. The doors slammed and the vehicle began backing up.

"The Road," Red said.

"I never had labor problems before," Chadwick commented.

"Who's the kidnapee?" Flowers asked.

The wall around the building's door had begun to crumble. Timyin Tin had backed down the stairs. The truck turned and tore off up the street.

"Strange, yet not strange," Chadwick observed, "and well-timed."

Speeding down the Road under the big golden arch, Red lit his cigar and regarded his passenger from beneath the shadow of his cap's bill. Chadwick, decked in many colors, his thick fingers heavy with rings, still perspired from the run to the vehicle. Each time he moved, his programmed contour seat underwent a radical readjustment. As he shifted often, the seat suffered constant metamorphosis about him. He tapped his fingers. He looked out of the window. He glanced furtively at Red.

Red grinned back at him.

"You're out of shape, Chad," he commented.

"I know," said the other, lowering his eyes. "Disgusting, isn't it? Considering what I once was . . . " Then he smiled. "Can't say it wasn't fun doing it, though."

"Cigar?" Red suggested.

"Don't mind if I do."

He accepted it, lit it, turned suddenly and glared at Red.

"You, on the other hand," he said, gesturing with the fire, "are no longer as old as you once were. Do you wonder why I hate you?"

"Yes," said Red. "Outside of being out of shape and overweight and covered with paint, I'd say that you are very similar to the person I knew a long while ago. I believe that your condition and mine are much alike, only yours is masked."

Chadwick shook his head.

"Come on. Red! That can't be. Don't you think I'd know it
—
or my doctors would
—
if I were growing younger and stronger and healthier?"

"No. Whatever the process, I feel that in your case it has an awful lot to work against. With you, it's had to run just to stand still. For the life you've led, I'd say you're in remarkably good shape. Even with the finest medical care, anyone else would probably have been dead by now."

"I wish I could believe you, but all I can agree on is that I do have a strong constitution."

" . . . You have an affinity for fire, you have a thing about accumulating wealth
—
”

"You're crazy! Everybody likes money, possessions. That doesn't prove anything. As for fire . . . " He drew hard on the cigar, exhaled a cloud of smoke. "Everyone has little peculiarities. Just because my memory is spotty too . . . "

"Who was your father?"

Chadwick shrugged.

"Who knows? I remember living at an inn."

"Near an entrance to the Road."

"What does that prove? My father probably was a Road man. I had to come by the talent some way. That doesn't mean he was something like you
—
” He was silent a moment. Then, "Oh, no," he said. "You are not going to try telling me that you are my father."

"I never said that
—
or thought it. But
—
”

"This whole thing has to be a fantasy of yours. It's too damned circumstantial. There is too much conjecture, too many wild premises
—
”

"That's what I say," Flowers interrupted. "I wish you could have locked him up somewhere and had a therapist of some sort work him over."

"She's right," Chadwick said. "Too much of your thinking these days springs from your very fallible memory and guesswork."

Red chewed on his cigar and looked away. "All right," he finally said. "Maybe so. Tell me, then
—
Why did you call off the decade and agree to come with me?"

Chadwick's fingers did a drumbeat on the dashboard.

"Partly because you said that you think you are going to die in a very peculiar fashion shortly, and you aroused my curiosity," he said. "And partly after hearing
—
and even helping with
—
all the garbage and paranoid guesswork I permitted you to feed into the SPHINX, I want to see where this is going to take us. And partly
—
at the end
—
because I was in a hurry to get out of there."

"You saw that creature appear out of nowhere."

" . . . And I have seen stranger things in a long and colorful career."

"Exactly. So what is the problem in believing my story?"

"You've nothing to back it up with. Even if you're right, I'm still right in not believing without evidence. Red, if I'd known you were in the shape you're in, I'd never have started the feud. It wouldn't have been worth it."

"Stop it!" Red turned away.

"So you do have a few doubts yourself? I suppose that is a healthy sign."

"You believe nothing I've said?"

"I believe you are a fool
—
of unknown origin
—
and that you are probably headed for your doom."

"Will someone please feed that tape into my scanner?" said Flowers. "It may take a while to see whether you want me to find you a seacoast in Bohemia."

"Here," said Chadwick, passing over the printout.

Red inserted it into a slot. It was digested.

"I can tell right away," said Flowers, "that this is going to be quite a drive."

"Ridiculous," said Chadwick, placing his cigar in the tray and folding his arms. "You're helping me whether you like it or not."

Red laid his cigar aside also. "A very long drive, Flowers?"

"Yes."

"Then put us to sleep. I don't feel like talking with him the whole time."

"The feeling is mutual," said Chadwick.

A soft hissing sound began.

"I ought to just gas you both permanently and become a Flying Dutchperson, like that car I heard about a while back, flitting down the centuries with a pair of skeletons inside."

"Very funny," said Red, breathing deeply.

Chadwick yawned.

"The whole thing . . . " he began.

Randy had changed six flat tires. He had also seen the radiator, the generator and a fan belt replaced. Had a tuneup too, while the brakes were being relined. Leaves had blithely charged it all to Red, with whose account it would sooner or later rendezvous. And who knew how much fuel? He had lost track.

And they continued on . . .

"Where?" Randy repeated. "When?"

"I'll know it when I see it," Leila replied.

"At this rate, you'll run us back to the Ice Age."

"Not that far, I think."

"He will show up there, though? You're sure?"

"I'm afraid so. Hurry."

"And you want to save him from a death which you say he now desires? . . . "

"We've been through all this."

" . . . because he believes it will work some transformation?"

"That's why he ditched me," Leaves said. "I caught on to his death-wish before he was ready to admit it."

"Then obviously neither of you believe him."

"I believe my own visions," Leila said. "If he dies there, he dies. Period."

Randy rubbed the stubble on his chin and shook his head. "I don't know that I would attempt to stop him from doing whatever he wishes to do most, whether it seems futile or not. All I really wanted to do was meet him. I'm not even certain what I'd say . . . "

"You've already met him."

"You'd better explain."

"That old couple with car trouble. That was us
—
Reyd and myself
—
a long time ago, before we grew younger. You were the one. I didn't remember it until then
—
”

"What the hell was that?"

"What?"

"Something big
—
like an airplane
—
went over."

"I didn't see anything."

"It was back a ways. I caught it in the rearview mirror."

Leila shook her head.

"No way. Passing through time as we are, anything like that would only be visible for such a tiny fraction of a second that you wouldn't even be subliminally aware of it. Leaves, did you detect anything?"

"No."

"So there
—
”

He pointed.

"Up there! It's back!"

Leila leaned forward, breaking her cigar on the windshield.

"Damn!" she said. "It looks like
—
It's gone again."

"A dragon," Randy said. "Like in storybooks."

Leila settled back in her seat.

"Hurry," she said.

"This is as fast as we can go."

The peculiar shadow did not reappear. After about fifteen minutes, they passed a turnoff and Leila raised her hand.

"What is it?" he asked, touching the brake. "That the place?"

"No. For a moment it seemed that it might be, but it's not. Keep going. I've a feeling we are getting near."

They passed a series of exits during the next hour, all of their signs marked with pictures. Then there was a long unbroken stretch. Finally another appeared in the distance. Leila leaned forward, staring.

"That's it," she said. "Stop. Pull over. The blue ziggurat
—
The last exit to Babylon. This is the place."

He drew off onto the shoulder of the Road. Suddenly it was morning, and the sun beat down with a summer-like intensity. Randy rolled down his window. He looked back. He looked around. It seemed that a shadow passed, but he lost it before he could be certain.

"I don't see anything unusual," he said. "We seem to be the only people around. What now?"

"We did it," Leila replied. "We're ahead of him in terms of Road-time now. Stay on the shoulder and take the exit. Run up it maybe a hundred meters. Then pull back on the access road and park sideways, blocking it, to give him a chance to brake. Then we get out and walk back to flag him down. We've got to stop him from taking this exit."

"Wait a minute," Leaves said as Randy engaged the gears. "Mightn't we be running a risk of causing what we are trying to avoid?"

"Good point," Leila said. "Do you have any flares, Randy?"

"As a matter of fact, yes."

"We will set several along the way as we head back. Also, leave the car's lights on
—
and hang your undershirt or sleeve or some damn thing like that out the window."

"All right."

He moved forward, made the turn.

Red rubbed his eyes, glanced to his right. Chadwick was stirring also.

"Whisper mode," he said softly. "How near are we?"

"Very near. That's why I aroused you. Do you have any idea what you are going to do when you find your magic spot?"

Red looked at Chadwick again.

"I want to ditch him before we get there. It's for his own
—
”

"No!" cried Chadwick, sitting upright. "You're not getting rid of me now! I want to see this crazy thing through to the end!"

"I was starting to say that it is for your own protection. You want to walk away from whatever happens, don't you?"

"I know what I'm doing. Better than you do, you fool! Your time has not yet come."

"Just what do you mean by that? I'm trying to do you a favor and all you do is bitch! Flowers! Pull over!"

Chadwick's hand shot forward, slapped the drive switch from automatic to manual. Immediately, the vehicle drifted to the left. Red seized the steering wheel and turned it back.

"Crazy bastard! You trying to kill us both?"

Chadwick laughed wildly at that, then chopped with his hand, striking Red's forearm as he reached for the switch.

Red began to brake. He looked at Chadwick. "Listen! If I'm wrong, I'll pick you up afterwards. But if I'm right, you don't want to be aboard. I'm going to meet my destiny. I
—
”

He had begun cutting the wheel to the right. Chadwick threw himself at him and took hold of it, pushing leftward.

"Look out! People!"

Red looked up, saw Leila waving with both arms over her head, a handkerchief in one hand. Far beyond her was a young man, also waving.

As they shot past, Chadwick struck him a glancing blow on the jaw. Red's head struck against the window frame. Chadwick seized the wheel again.

"Stop it! Both of you!" Flowers cried. "Someone throw the switch!"

They passed a sputtering flare. Red saw the sign with the blue ziggurat as he drove his elbow against Chadwick's head, knocking him back into his own seat. His hand shot forward then, nipping the switch back to automatic drive as he began the turn into the exit.

The brakes were immediately seized as Flowers announced, "Roadblock!"

The tires screamed. The land to the left of the road fell away sharply. The slope to the right was more gradual, if rockstrewn, above the yellow earth . . .

Red twisted the wheel to the left. It turned right.

"Sorry, boss," Flowers said. "One of us is wrong, and I hope it's you."

Something soft and heavy enveloped him as they left the road and hit the slope. He heard the door open. He was ejected.

Falling, hitting the ground, rolling . . . He lost consciousness. For how long he could not tell, though it did not seem a great while.

He could hear the crackling of flames. There also seemed to be some distant shouts. He took several deep breaths. He stretched and relaxed. Nothing seemed to be broken  . . .

He began struggling with his cocoon. It was a tough, white, foamy substance.

The shouts came nearer. More than one voice, but he still could not make out what they were saying.

He worked his hands around to his stomach, up toward his chest. There was a sudden pang along the left side of his ribcage.

He caught hold of the fabric before him, scratched at it, dug in with his fingers, drew upon it. Slowly it parted. He adjusted his grip, pulled harder.

It tore open. He spread his arms and pushed downward. It came away from his shoulders. He began to crawl out. He heard Leila's voice calling his name. He saw her running toward him.

He turned away and looked down the slope to where his truck lay on its side, burning. He tried to rise, but his foot caught in the spongy material and he slipped back into a sitting position on the grass, catching himself with his arms. His side still throbbed.

"No," he said as he watched the truck burn. "No . . . "

A hand rested on his shoulder. He did not look up.

"Reyd? . . . "

"No," he repeated.

Below them, the truck suddenly blossomed into a ball of fire. Moments later, a wave of heat arrived. Red raised his left hand just as Randy came up and halted several paces away.

"You could have been in there . . . " Leila began.

His hand shot forward, a finger extended.

The flames fell back. A tower of smoke rose. Something seemed to be moving within it, traveling a slow spiral upward.

"There," he said. Then, "Now I understand."

A huge gray-green dragon-form rose above the smoldering vehicle.

"It was Chadwick whose time had come," she said. "All of your actions were meant to serve him."

Red nodded without taking his eyes from the twisting, drifting shape. All of its movements were graceful, and somehow verged on the erotic. It was an air-dance of freedom, release, abandon.

Abruptly, it halted and looked their way. It spread its wings and drifted toward them. When it was very near, it managed, somehow, to hover.

"Thank you, children," it said, in a voice rich and melodious. "You have done for me that which I did not know to do for myself."

It circled slowly above them.

"What is the secret?" Red asked. "I remembered more than you did. I thought I was arranging things for myself."

It looked upward to where another dark form was now drifting.

"Events, child. Events, and their unconscious manipulation," it replied. "I cannot advise you, for we are all different. Keep looking, if you feel you must. For you, that may be the way. But your time is not yet come. When it does, help may come from anywhere
—
a friend, an enemy, a stranger, a relative . . . As for me, I am going home now. Let us hope to meet again one day."

It twisted sharply and began to rise in the morning light, its scales gleaming like golden mirrors. It began to move its wings, slowly at first, then faster, climbing, dwindling as they watched. Another winged form passed near it. Soon they were gone from sight.

Red lowered his face into his hands for a moment. The wind had shifted and the smell of his burning vehicle came to him now.

"Will someone please come and pick me up?" came a small voice from down the hillside, "before this damned vegetation takes fire?"

"Flowers?" he said, dropping his hands and beginning to rise.

But the young man was there before him. He retrieved the book, encased in an ejection pod, and carried it back up the hillside. Red stared at him.

"Reyd, I'd like you to meet your son Randy," Leila said.

Red frowned.

"Where you from, boy?"

"Cleveland, C Twenty."

"I'll be damned . . . Blake
—
or Carthage?"

"Yeah. But I'm using Dorakeen now."

Red stepped forward and took Randy by the shoulders, looked into his eyes.

"I'd say so, I'd really say so, and you're welcome to it. What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you. Leaves showed me the way. Then I met Leila
—
”

"I hate to break this up," Leila said, "but we'd better move that car up there before someone else comes along."

"Yes."

They turned back toward the feeder road.

"Uh
—
What should I call you? Father?"

"Red. Just Red." He looked at Leila. "My head is suddenly clear. Something like a fog seems to have gone."

"That was the last dark bird," she replied.

"You know, I'd have missed Randy here, if that had been me."

"Yes."

"Let's go to Ur for a beer. They always have good beer in Ur."

"Okay with me," Randy said. "There are a lot of things I want to ask you."

"Sure. There are plenty of things I want to ask you
—
and we have plans to make."

"Plans?"

"Yes. The way I see it, the Greeks still have to win at Marathon."

"They did."

"What?"

"That's what the history books say."

"You got on at C Twenty. Where?"

"Near Akron."

"Can you retrace your route?"

"I think so."

"We're going to do it! Wait! We'll stop at Marathon first, to check the scorecard. Some new factor may have come into play."

"Red?"

"Yes?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"That's all right. I'll explain
—
”

"Mondamay will be looking for me," Flowers interrupted. "I think you'd better leave a message."

Red snapped his fingers.

"Right. You guys move the car. I'll be back in a minute."

He turned and jogged back down the slope, holding his side. He picked up a hot, twisted chunk of metal, to scratch HAVING LUNCH IN UR
—
RED on the buckled door of his still-burning pickup.

"Does reality always seem a little out of step around him?" Randy asked.

"I never noticed anything strange," said Leila, patting her pockets, shrugging and exhaling a small flame to light her cigar, "until after the other fire. But he seems his normal self again, now,"

"
'De ce terrible paysage, tel que jamais mortel n'en vit, ce matin encore l'image, vague et lointaine, me ravit . . .
' " Flowers began. "Perhaps I, too, am a dragon, only dreaming I am a book."

"I wouldn't put it past you," said Leila, climbing into the car. "Leaves, meet Flowers."

There came a double burst of static.