Roger Zelazny - Roadmarks

She placed the bottle on the floor and began drawing on her cigar, producing great clouds of smoke into which her gaze wandered.

"Seeing .. ." she said, then lapsed into silence.

"Seeing," Red repeated.

"You move in a fog. It thickens as you head toward death. And you desire it! I saw ten dark birds pursue you," she said, her voice dropping to a lower register, "and now there are nine..."

"Black decade!" he. whispered. Then, "Who called it?"

"Big," she said. "A big, heavy man... And a poet... Yes, he is a poet. Why, of course!"

"Chadwick."

"Fat Chadwick," she agreed.

She blew the smoke away and reached for the bottle.

"Why, when and how?" Red asked.

"What do you want for one lousy vision? That's it." "Chadwick," he repeated, then drained his goblet. "It does make a sort of sense. Many men have had the motive, but few others have the means." Then, "Tony must have known something," he decided. "So he's gotten to them, too... That means I can't count on anything from the cops. But....ho can? It's official,

then."

He rose, retrieved the bottle and poured some more wine into the goblet.

""What are you going to do?" she asked.

He took a sip.

"Keep going," he said.

She nodded.

"All right. I'll go with you. You'll need my help."

"Nope. Not now. Thanks."

She picked up the bottle and threw it out the window. Her green eyes flashed.

"Don't be noble. I'm still one of the toughest things you ever met. You know I can help you."

"Any other time, and you know how happy I'd be. Not when a black decade's been declared, though. Hell, one of us has to live, if only to avenge the other."

She sprawled suddenly on the bed.

"You'd love that, wouldn't you? And you'd love it to be me ... Everything has just caught up with me," she said. "I must sleep. I can't force you, but neither do I accept your answer. Do as you would, Reyd, for I will certainly do the same. Good night."

"I want you to be reasonable about this!"

She began to snore.

He finished his drink, put out the lights and left the goblet on the dresser. He closed the door behind him and returned to his own room, where he began to dress.

"Are we burning?"

"No, Flowers. We're leaving."

"What'th wrong?"

"Got to get out of here quick."

"Have you given your report to the polithe, about latht night?"

"Hell, the next report may be about me if we don') move now. That guy I shot last night was no crazy. I'm under black decade."

"What'th that?"

He drew on his boots and began lacing them.

"Vendetta is what I call it. My enemy gets ten shots at me without interference. If they all miss, he's supposed to quit. It's kind of a game. Last night's was the first."

"Can't you hit back?"

"Sure. If I knew where to look. In the meantime, I'd better run. The Road is long. The game can take a lifetime. Always does, in fact, one way or the other." "The cops won't do anything?"

"Nope. Not when it's official. The Games Board has jurisdiction then. And even if they wanted to, there aren't that many police—and most of them are from around C Twenty-three to Twenty-five, anyway. Too civilized, and not much good this far back."

"Tho go up the Road to where they're thtronger, and look for thome criminal violation in the game."

"No, my enemy lives up that way, and he probably has them in his pocket. I think that's what Tony was trying to tell me. Besides, their function is mainly traffic control. No, we're running back."

"You know who'th behind it?"

"Yeah, an old buddy of mine. We used to be partners. C'mon."

"But aren't you—"

"Sh! We're sneaking out."

"Without paying?"

"Just like the old days."

"I wathn't with you then."

"It's all right. I haven't changed much."

He closed the door quietly behind him and headed for the back stairs.

"Red?" "Shh!"

"Thh, hell! How did they know you were going to thtop here? It wath a thpur-of-the-moment dethithion." "I've been wondering about that myself," he whis pered. "—Unleth thomeone knowth where you latht fueled

and hath calculated a great number of pothible thtops where you'd be likely to take on more."

"And covered all of them? Come on!"

"Tutht the probable oneth. Could thith Thadwick guy afford it?"

"Well, yes ..."

"He'd have to thpend ath much or more hunting you down if you got wind of it and ethcaped the firtht guy, wouldn't he?"

"Yes, you're right. But now I think of it, he knows me awfully well. If he'd arranged for that confiscation of my load just where it occurred, he might have guessed I'd pulled in at the next stop to think things over."

"Maybe. You willing to take the thanthe?"

"What chance? That there's someone at the next stop, and the next, and the next?"

"Could be, couldn't it?"

"Yeah, you're right. I was too busy just now thinking of something more immediate. Like, that fellow who was supposed to take me out not being wherever he was to be picked up after the job was done. It must have been earlier this evening. When they learned I'd killed him and was still here, what do you figure they did?"

"Hard to thay."

"Could they be out there right now, waiting?"

"It doeth theem pothible, doethn't it7 Could they be covering thith back door?"

"Perhaps. That's why we're going to look first, then make a dash for the trees. I think it's more likely, though, that they'd be watching the pickup, either from

the trees or from another vehicle. Therefore, we'll work our way around through the woods."

He reached the door, cursed when he discovered it to be heavy and windowless, eased it open a crack, looked out. Farther, then ...

"Nothing," he said. "No talking now till this is all over—unless it's a warning. I wish I'd remembered the earplug lead."

"You'll ficth my thpeaker thoon?"

"There's a place up the Road that can probably do it while I'm getting a new windshield. Don't worry."

He swung the door open and dashed toward the shelter of the trees, about fifteen meters distant. When he reached them, he swung around the nearest and crouched in the shadows at its base. He remained motionless for several moments, breathing through his opened mouth.

Nothing. No shots, shouts or sounds of movement He crawled back into the stand of trees, his fingertips brushing the way before him. Finally, he turned to his right and made his way around the rear of the hostel, still crawling. Leila's room remained dark. He could smell the burnt mattress ticking.

He advanced until he had a full view of the parking lot. No additional vehicles seemed present in the light of the quarter-moon and a scattering of stars. He remained within the wood, however, heading toward the point where his attacker had fallen.

When he reached the spot, he discovered that the covered body still lay there, its shroud weighted down with stones. He crouched beside it, pistol in hand, and regarded his truck. Five minutes passed. Ten...

He advanced. He circled the truck, inspecting it, then entered on the driver's side. He placed his book in a slot beneath the dashboard, then inserted his ignition key.

"Thtop! Don't turn the key!"

"Why not?"

"I am trickling a minimal charge through the thythtem. There ith rethithtanth that doethn't belong."

"A bomb?"

"Perhapth."

Cursing, Red stepped out and opened the hood. He produced his flashlight and began an inspection. After a time, he slammed the hood and climbed back in, still

cursing. ^ "Wath it a bomb?

"Yes."

He started the engine.

"What did you do with it?"

"Chucked it back into the woods."

He put the truck into gear, backed up, turned and headed out of the lot, stopping only to top off the tank.