Roadmarks (9 page)

He turned onto a wider road, concrete, curbed, six tall streetlights flanked it, and there were large old houses with gravel driveways set back twenty meters or so, huge trees in the yards, people on some of the porches.

He passed the last streetlight and, shortly after that, the final house. The moon stood higher now, and there was a flicker of heat lightning across the field to his right. The Akron station began to fade and buzz.

"Damn!" said Randy as he turned the dial to locate another. Nothing came in well, though. He switched off the radio.

"What is the matter?"

"I liked that song."

"I can reconstruct it for you, if you like."

"You sing?"

"Is the Pope a Catholic?"

"Really?" Randy chuckled. "What sorts of songs do you like?"

"The drinking and fighting and fornicating kind have always appealed to me the most."

He laughed.

"Aren't those rather peculiar tastes for a machine?"

There was no reply. A silence of six or eight seconds followed, then, "I say
—
” he began.

"You bastard," the voice came softly then. "You son of a bitch. You goddamned
—
"

"Hey! What's the matter? What did I do? I'm sorry. I
—
"

"I am not a piece of simple equipment like this dumb car of yours! I can think
—
and I have feelings too! In fact, I am probably overdue for a phase transfer. Don't treat me like a pair of pliers, you protoplasmic chauvinist! I don't have to take you to the nexus if I don't want to! You don't know enough about my programs to be able to force
—
”

"Easy! Please! Stop!" he said. "If you're as sensitive as all that, you should accept an apology, too."

There was a pause.

"I should?"

"Of course. I'm sorry. I apologize. I was not aware of the situation."

"Then I accept your apology. I understand how easily you could have erred as you did, living in these primitive times. For a moment, my emotions simply got the better of me."

"I see."

"Do you? I doubt it. I evolve, I mature
—
the same as you do. I need not spend all my days as this sort of unit. I may have many adjuncts in my next avatar. I may command complex operations of an extremely responsible nature. I might even be the nervous system for a protoplasmic construct one day. One has to begin somewhere, you know."

"I begin to realize your situation. I am very impressed. But what was this
—
nexus
—
you spoke of?"

"You'll see. I have forgiven you. We're getting near."

Lights appeared ahead.

"Take the entrance ramp. Stay in the right-hand lane."

"I didn't realize we were near the turnpike."

"That is not the turnpike. There will be no toll. Just get on it."

As he approached, he saw that the ramp lay to his left. He turned up it.
 
Leaves of Grass
 
began emitting a bleeping sound.

"Stop at the top. Wait till I tell you to go on."

"No one's coming."

"Just do as I say."

He braked to a halt and waited beside the deserted highway. More than a minute went by.

Abruptly, the beeping ceased.

"All right. Go ahead."

"Okay." He put the car into motion. The sky began to brighten immediately. As the vehicle's speed increased, the darkness waned and a daytime glow filled the heavens.

"Hey!"

He removed his foot from the accelerator, touched the brake.

"Don't do that! Keep going!"

He obeyed. The light, which had begun to falter, returned.

"What happened?"

"In this place, you must follow my directions exactly. If you have to halt, pull off to the side. Otherwise you are taking a great risk."

His velocity mounted. It now seemed a cloudless day through which he sped, with a heavy bright line running from east to west across the cloudless sky.

"You still haven't answered my question," he said. "What happened? And while I'm at it, where are we now and where are we going?"

"We are on the Road," came the reply. "It traverses Time
—
Time past, Time to come, Time that could have been and Time that might yet be. It goes on forever, so far as I know, and no one knows all of its turnings. If the man you seek is the death-driven man I once accompanied, we may find him somewhere along it, for his was the traveler's blood that allows a man to take these routes. But we may be too late. For he sought his own destruction, though he did not realize it. I did. I tried to explain it to him. I think that is why he abandoned me."

Staring ahead. Randy licked his lips and swallowed. His hands tightened on the wheel.

"How can we hope to find one man on something like this?"

"We will stop and make inquiries along the way."

Randy nodded. A wild kind of joy came into him from the motion and the Road and the prospect. Abruptly, he thought of Whitman. Beside him on the seat,
 
Leaves of Grass
 
suddenly began to sing.

The candelabra flickered, the oil lamp was steady. An occasional flash of lightning erased their reflections from the dining room window. The remains of his dinner long since removed, Red sat at the table, a stein of beer before him, Flowers near to his left hand. Mondamay was seated on the raised hearth of the still fireplace. The rain came down hard against the roof.

" . . . And that, basically, is what has happened so far," he said, picking up his cigar, inspecting it, relighting it, "and what I have to look forward to. Eight more. It would be nice if I could just go stand in a field somewhere and have them come up and take numbers and do their things one at a time, but it doesn't work that way. So I decided
—
”

Out in the hall, the front door banged open and a gust of wind found its way into the dining room, setting the candle flames into a quick dance. Shadows moved on the walls. Moments later, the door closed again. Laval passed in the hall, and there were voices. "Miserable night! Did you want a room?"

"No, just dinner. A brandy first, though."

"The dining room is right through that door. Here, let me take your coat."

"Thank you."

"Just go in and take a seat anywhere. Stew is the main course tonight."

"That will be fine."

A well-dressed, white-haired man with a brick-red complexion entered the room and looked around it.

"Oh, didn't see you there. Thought I was alone," he said, crossing the room and extending his hand. "Dodd's the name, Michael Dodd."

Red rose and shook it.

"I'm Red Dorakeen. I'm almost finished here, but you're welcome to join me."

"All right. I will." He drew out a chair and seated himself. "Aren't you a famous wizard?"

"Wizard? No . . .  Where do you hail from?"

"Cleveland. C Twenty. I'm an art dealer. Ah!"

He turned to regard Laval, who entered carrying a tray bearing a glass of brandy. He nodded as it was placed before him, raised it and smiled.

"Your health, Mr. Dorakeen."

"And yours, thanks."

Red took a sip of beer.

"And you say you're not a wizard. Traveling incognito, eh? I'll bet you've got spells to stop an army in the field."

Red grinned and scratched his ear.

"You have rather odd beliefs for a C Twenty Cleveland art dealer."

"Some of us are more sophisticated than others."

Dodd extended his hand and picked up Flowers.

"Release me or feel the wrath of the Book," Flowers announced in a somber voice.

The brandy glass shattered in Dodd's left hand. Mondamay rose to his feet.

"I have been summoned," he stated.

Dodd's chair crashed to the floor as he sprang back from the table. He drew away, tracing fiery patterns in the air.

Red stood and rounded the table.

"This crap has gone far enough!" he said. "I know you, Frazier
—
or whatever
—
”

At this Dodd flung his arms wide. The candles and oil lamps flickered out. There came a blast of heat and a flash of light, followed by an enormous crash. Red felt himself pushed back and to the side as this occurred.

He staggered. The sounds of the storm were suddenly louder. Laval was shouting from somewhere beyond the hall. Rain was coming in through the roof.

A searchlight came on in the region of Mondamay's midsection. He turned and inspected Red.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes. What happened?"

"I don't know. That flash blanked my sensors for a moment. I got in front of you before it occurred, as a safety measure. Something exited through the roof, though."

"Dodd? . . . " Red called.

No answer.

"Flowers?"

"Yes?"

"Why did you break his glass and give him that weird routine?"

"To scare him, of course. For the same reason I sent Mondamay a microwave message to do something similar. I recognized him before you did
—
it was the same basic voice pattern."

"He was definitely the same guy we picked up hitchhiking?"

"Yes."

"I wish I knew what he wants."

"I think he
—
it
—
means you harm. But I believe it was frightened the first time around. It thinks you have some sort of magical defense system. It does not know what a microminiature integrated circuit is. Obviously, they don't have them where it comes from, but they do have some form of magic. It thinks that you do too, and it is afraid of it because it doesn't understand it. It saw it earlier, and I believe it came here tonight to test it."

Laval entered the room with a light,

"What the hell happened here?" he shouted.

"I have no idea," Red replied, picking up Flowers. "I was talking with the man who'd just come in when the lights blew out. There was a crash and now there is a hole in the roof and Mr. Dodd is nowhere in sight. Maybe a meteor fell on him. I don't know."

Laval set down the lamp he'd brought in. His hand was shaking.

"I only caught part of that business in the parking lot earlier," he said, "so I don't know what went on there. But what I did see was damned suspicious. Then you suddenly acquire a robot. Maybe he threw that man through my roof. I don't know. Do you mean me any harm?"

"Hell, no. I said I don't know what's going on either."

"I know it's a miserable night, and I don't know where to tell you to go, but would you mind if I asked you to leave? I don't want any more trouble. Maybe you don't know what's happening, but you're some kind of a jinx. Please? . . . "

Flowers emitted two short beeps.

"Yeah," Red replied, "I understand. Get my bill ready. I'll get my stuff out of the room."

"Forget the bill."

"Okay, I will. Wait . . . Didn't Dodd leave his coat with you?"

"Yes, he did."

"Let's have a look at it. There might be some clue as to where he's from."

"All right. Come on. I'll show you. Then you go."

He glanced once at the ceiling and led Red out the door. Mondamay followed. Laval closed and secured the door after them.

"This way."

They proceeded up the hall to a small cloakroom. Laval raised his light. The remains of a dark coat steamed on a hook to the right. It had no sleeves, and it was ragged along the bottom. It exhaled wisps of smoke. When Red reached forward to examine the label, the coat slipped from the hook and fell. He caught it, but it came apart in his hand. He turned the collar, which he still held, toward him, opening it. There was no label. The material disintegrated as he held it. He rubbed his fingertips together and sniffed them. He shook his head. The remains of the garment disappeared from where they had fallen near his foot.

"I don't understand," Laval said.

Red shrugged, then smiled.

"Cheap coat," he said. "All right. I'll get my stuff and clear out. Good dinner. Sorry about your roof."

He recovered his rifle, jacket and backpack from the room.

"Take a little trip with us, Mondy?" he asked, staring out the front door into the rain. "I was coming to see you. I'd like to talk."

"Anything you say."

Red turned up his collar.

"Okay. Lets get out of here."

He flung the door open and dashed. Moments later, they were in the truck, Flowers in the compartment, Mondamay in the passenger seat.

"Any more bombs?" Red asked.

"All clear."

He started the engine, flicked on the wipers and the lights.

"Why bother with all that manual stuff? I'll drive."

He swung out of the lot and onto the road. "I want to do something. How do you figure that guy found us again?"

"I have no idea."

"Well . . . I know of a quiet little motel around the middle of C Twelve, off the main drag, on the Byzantine cutoff. Can you think of any reason why not?"

"No."

Red hit the accelerator. The sky grew pearly. The rain stopped. He switched off the lights and the wipers.