by C. L. Moore
It was over in thirty seconds. Pod started the truck again. The shouts faded behind us. We all let out the tightly held breaths we had drawn and looked at each other with shaky smiles.
At the check station we all showed our regulation Comus passes. They matched us up carefully with the photographs on our cards. Someone came in and cast a very cursory series of glances around the truck. What they seemed to be looking for was stowaways. Nothing else interested them much. The whole thing was over in less than five minutes.
Pod swung the truck up the ramp toward the highway. He turned right swung into a suitable lane, and set he controls for automatic. Then he leaned over the back of the cab and grinned at us.
"We're on our way," he said.
"Look in the map compartment, will you?" I said. "I'd like to see what the layout is. I've got something to tell you."
The highway ran straight between Carson City and the Corby turnoff. The truck stop where we were expected lay about five miles beyond the turnoff. Corby was at the end of a winding twenty miles of mountain road. I looked at the map. When we came to the spot where the Corby road left the highway we would stand at the branching of a Y, down one leg of which the troupe might find safety—of a sort. If the Anti-Com didn't blow California sky-high. But there wasn't going to be time enough to spare for that trip down the far leg of the Y.
I had to get to Corby as fast as the truck would take me. Every second counted from now on. The troupe was going to need the truck to reach their refuge. I was going to need it to get to Corby. We couldn't both have it.
I stood there balancing against the swaying of the floor and frowning down at the map. This was a problem I hadn't thought of. Back there in Carson City it had seemed enough to get the Swann Players out of town before the fighting began, before the townspeople returned to their lynching. But what was I going to do with them now? I couldn't take them with me, I couldn't leave them to walk the five dark miles through renegade-infested country.
"Set her at high speed, Pod," I said. "We're in a hurry." I looked from face to face around the familiar little group. I thought how well I'd come to know them in the past week. I remembered how willingly they'd worked under my harsh direction. I remembered how they'd backed me up on the night when I got my old magic back again, and how they'd rallied round to keep the show going the night I froze. The responsibility I felt for them was a very real thing. But I had a bigger responsibility now.
They would have to know what we were all up against. They'd have to make their own decision. I couldn't do it for them.
"Pod," I said, "watch the road, will you? I want to know when we reach the Corby turnoff." I glanced around the group. "All of you," I said, "there's something you've got to know. We aren't out of the woods yet, cast. I think there's a bad time ahead. Here's the setup."
I told them briefly, keeping my voice calmer than I felt. I told them about the Anti-Com and the probability of a blowup. "If that happens," I said, "we'll never know what hit us." I told them where the Anti-Com was. That had stopped being a secret now. "And Nye will bomb Corby right off the map the minute he decides it's that or risking the Anti-Com's knocking Comus out," I said. "Corby has two chances out of three of going up in a cloud of smoke within the next hour. So now you know where we stand."
They had been watching me with frozen attention all the time I spoke. There was a deep silence when I finished.
Then Roy said, "What's the third chance, Rohan?"
"Comus gets knocked out for good and the country moves into a whole new phase," I said. "The rebels take over."
"The Second American Revolution," Roy said. "Is that it?"
I nodded. "That's about it."
Silence again. I measured them with a quick glance. I dropped my hand casually into my coat pocket and closed my fingers around the little gun. Still casually I moved toward the back of the truck until I had my shoulders against the far corner and faced the rest of the troupe gathered toward the front around the television screen. Pod watched me without blinking from the driver's seat. I couldn't see his hands.
"There's one thing more," I said. "I'm going on into Corby. I've got to get there fast. That means I've got to take the truck. I'm sorry, cast. I'll have to drop you at the Corby turnoff."
It took a moment for the import to sink in. Then Pod Henken said sharply, "Rohan, you can't do it!"
I took the gun out of my pocket and rested it across my left wrist.
"I've got to. Believe me, if there were any other way—"
"But it's only an extra five miles," Polly said in bewilderment. "I don't see——"
"An extra ten, there and back," I told her. "I haven't got the time."
Pod Henken said, "But Eileen can't walk five miles, Rohan. And it isn't safe! We don't know what kind of men are on the roads tonight."
"I can't help it," I said stubbornly. "I've tried every way I know to think of an out, but——"
Pod looked at me over the seat back. "There are five of us against one," he observed in a mild voice.
I jerked my gun a little to remind him. "I thought of that," I said. "Maybe you could jump me, but I'd get two at least before——"
Pod Henken said, "Sorry, Rohan," still very mildly, and over the back of the seat a star of blinding light seemed to explode right in my eyes. I heard a singing sound and the gun in my hand gave a metallic wail and jumped with paralyzing violence backward out of my grip. I thought for a moment it had taken my fingers with it. I felt a line of ice-cold force rip straight across my forearm, and the double impact sent me back hard against the truck wall. My head struck with a hollow-sounding thud.
Everything in front of me blurred. All the faces swam in a haze of gray. Very dimly I saw Polly swoop to snatch up the fallen gun. I thought, I can't black out now. I can't! Everything's done for if I do. I felt my knees sagging and the floor of the truck seemed to tilt upward.
Very fast, before I could fall forward, I pressed my back to the wall and skidded to a sitting position. I bent forward until my head was between my knees, and with my good hand I hit my forehead, little jolting blows to keep the blackness from settling over me. Stay here, stay here! I pleaded silently with myself.
It wasn't easy. My head was ringing and I couldn't be sure whether there was an interval of black-out after all, but the next thing I knew I was looking up into Polly's astonished face as she stood over me holding the gun. Pod was speaking from the cab.
"... mentioned I used to run a sharp-shooting act before the carnivals shut down, did I?" he seemed to be saying.
I blinked at him witlessly.
"Guess I'm losing my grip," he said. "All I aimed to do was knock the gun out of your hand. I never went for your arm. That was an accident. How you feeling, Rohan?"
I straightened and leaned my head back against the jolting wall to keep from folding forward again. "Was I out?" I demanded.
Polly, still more bewildered than hostile, said, "I don't think so. How's your arm?"
I looked down, aware for the first time of a heavy, throbbing pain. Blood was spreading bright red across my shirt sleeve in two rapidly broadening wet spaces that made the cloth stick to my arm. Shakily with my left hand I pushed the sleeve up. On the underside of my forearm and in the middle of the back of it two neat bullet holes pumped bright blood.
Polly said in exasperated voice, "Oh, for God's sake, Rohan!" She dropped to her knees, laid the gun on the rumbling floor of the truck, and took my arm in firm, competent hands turning it to look.
"No broken bones, anyhow," she said. "But I think you got the artery, Pod." She glanced over her shoulder. "Roy let's have your shirt. Cressy, come over here and hold your thumb tight where I've got mine. Good. Keep it there."
Over their bent heads I looked up at Pod Henken. I drew a deep breath. "Pod, where are we now?"
He glanced out at the dark road. "Coming toward the Corby turnoff," he said without expression.
Polly was ripping cloth into strips with long tearing sound
s. I said, "Pod, are you a Comus man?"
There was a little shocked pause. Pod said indignantly, his red face redder than ever, "Hell, no! What do you take me for?"
"You've done a Comus job," I said.
It was Roy, pulling his coat back on over his undershirt, who said, "What do you mean by that, Rohan?"
Cressy was looking into my face from very near, the stains of mascara and recent tears giving her a childish look. Polly paused with two ends of half-torn cloth in her motionless hands. Even Eileen Henken, the carnation between her fingers, gazed questioningly at me. It was Pod I looked at.
"The odds just dropped on the chances of a Second American Revolution," I said. "I can't give you orders now. But I'm asking you. Get out at the crossroads and let me take the truck on into Corby."
After what seemed like a long pause, Roy said, "Why?"
"Crossroads," Eileen Henken murmured in a meditative voice.
"That's right," I told her. "A bigger crossroads than you know. I can't explain it, cast." I hitched myself a little higher against the wall. Automatically Cressy's hands moved with me, maintaining the pressure on my artery. I pulled myself together inside, throwing all the persuasion I could find in me into my voice. "You've got to do it," I said. "I know it's dangerous. Maybe you'll get robbed on the road. Maybe you'll get killed. But you've got to go. And I've got to have the truck."
Polly said in a strained voice, "I think you'll have to explain, Rohan."
But before I could speak, Roy spoke for me. I looked up with astonishment at the sudden violence in his voice. His sullen look had lightened amazingly. For the first time I saw life and excitement in his face. He was reacting hard.
"Explain what?" he demanded. "That he's been working with the rebels? Damn you, Rohan, why did you have to keep quiet about it? I'm with you. What do you want me to do?"
I felt my jaw drop as I looked at him. Polly said, "Roy?" in a small, thin voice.
"You think I've just been sitting around with my eyes shut?" he demanded angrily. "I know what's been going on out here. I like what I've seen. I like the feel of it." He wiped the back of his hand across his cheek with a violent motion, smearing the make-up. With a sort of savage contempt he held out the streaked hand. "You think I like being an actor? You think I want to act? I hate it. I always did hate it. But under Comus I act or starve. I want out of this rat race." He swung back to me. "Rohan! Have we still got a chance?"
I tried to read the truth in his eyes. How much could I trust him? How strong a tool would he be in my hands? He wiped his palm across his thigh and then held out both hands to me, shaking with tension.
"Give me a job to do! I'm willing to gamble if you are. What's going on?"
I found I was shaking again, too.
"It's too dangerous," I said. "No."
"Yes!" Roy yelled at me. "I'm not afraid! I'm sick of Comus. How much of a chance have we got?"
I looked around the jolting truck. I looked at the dark trees whipping by outside. I looked toward the east, where at any moment, for all I knew, the white glare of explosion might begin to rise.
"I don't know!" I yelled back at him. "Damn it, I don't know! I think there's a chance but I don't know. I'm so scared I can't think ahead. I'm so scared I'm shaking. Look!"
"But you still want to go into Corby?"
"I've got to!"
"You can't make it alone. I'll go too."
Cressy said seriously, "I can't hold the bleeding back when you yell like that, Rohan. Calm down or you won't do anything at all."
I looked down at the freshly welling blood. I leaned back against the rumbling wall and drew a long, unsteady breath.
"All right," I said. "Over there behind the control panels is a square box. Inside it there's a safety fuse that belongs with the Anti-Com. My job's to get it into Corby before the Anti-Com crew gets desperate enough to go ahead without it. So now you know."
Roy said, "With it everything will go through without a hitch? Is that it?"
I nodded. "The Anti-Com will knock out Comus—if we get there in time. If we don't, it may just knock California off the map."
From the corner of my eye I saw Pod Henken turn around in the driver's seat. I felt the floor under me begin to slow in its vibrations. The darkness outside flowed slower too. Then brakes sighed and the truck rolled heavily to a halt. Pod Henken's voice called calmly back to us.
"All out that's going out," he said.
-
CHAPTER XXVII
IN THE SUDDEN dead silence Polly finished ripping the strip of shirt she held in mid-air. It made an angry sound.
"Who's getting out?" she demanded. "I'd just as soon get blown up trying as blown up running. All right, Cressy, your thumb, will you? Let's get this bandage on."
Pod grinned at her from over the back of the seat.
"I can remember the old days," he said in a conversational tone. "Before Comus. I'm with you, Rohan. Eileen?"
She gave him a placid smile. "We're not gambling much at our age, are we? What are we waiting for?"
Cressy looked up. "Me?" she said. "You mean me?" She flashed me a make-up–smeared smile, opportunist to the last. "Maybe we'll all be famous," she said. "It's worth a chance."
I sat up straighten Suddenly I began to feel much better.
"Hurry up with that bandage, can't you?" I said to Polly. "I'm going up front with Pod. It rides easier, and I want to get to Corby in one piece. We've got a rough trip ahead, cast. Hang on!"
The pavement poured past under us like a curving, uneven river that swung us rhythmically from side to side. There seemed to be an unusual amount of traffic on the Corby road tonight. Ahead of us and behind lights swung in and out of the steep, climbing curves. I was glad of the company on the road. It made us less conspicuous. I wondered how many other travelers toward Corby knew what it was they were racing into. Probably Comus was pouring in troops, by air as well as by road. Probably they'd find the Anti-Com long before we got there. Probably by the time we rounded the next curve, or the one beyond, we'd see the blinding flash start to burst outward from the exploding town, spreading fast toward us and eastward across the continent.
I didn't believe it. I didn't care. My arm throbbed and the blood kept seeping in a wider and wider stain through the bandage, but that didn't bother me either. I felt cool and confident. The whole night world around me seemed strangely alive, and I was responding vividly to every random stimulus. The stars glittered against my very skin and the sound of a night bird calling clearly in the dark was a sound my own mind had made. I felt as if the last walls had fallen away around me and I was alone and free. It made me a little sad without knowing yet just why, but very fresh and clear.
In the rearview mirror I saw the lights of following traffic jolt up and down. We were going much too fast and it didn't seem to matter. I had the wild, irrational idea that we couldn't go wrong tonight. The world was turning obediently under my feet again and history was turning too. History of our own making, new-minted, fresh as the mountain night around us.
Pod said suddenly, "Look over there to the right. Wait a minute—there. Those lights. That must be Corby."
The road was topping a rise, and for a moment we could all see the winking clusters far off. Then the road sank again and all we could see was the rushing river of the highway and the bursts of light and sound that were passing traffic. But the glow of Corby hung above it in the sky now, and over the glow a star winked red, white, and blue over and over. I thought of Charlie Starr and the San Diego Massacre and I wondered in that formless way we all must have when we think of the dead whether he could possibly know what was happening tonight, ending the thing he had begun. Ending it one way or another. But that was a thing too big and dim for the mind to cope with long.
Pod Henken said with a sound of sudden alarm, "Look back, Rohan. I thought I saw something—something behind us that was red."
My heart gave a lurch before my reason did. Something red? I leaned out futilely,
trying to see the road behind us. Something the color of Comus following us along the Corby road? "Not necessarily following us," I told myself. "Corby is the center of the nation tonight. Everything on this road except us is bound to be Comus."
We rounded a curve. I could see down the way we had come, and something brilliantly red flashed suddenly into sight five or six headlights behind us. I caught my breath.
"You were right, Pod. There's a Prowler on the road. Coming this way."
"After us?" Pod asked quietly.
"I don't think so. I don't see how anybody could know. Unless——" The thought jolted me. Unless they picked up Elaine ... But I couldn't believe that one either. I remembered the blue ring on her hand. I didn't think they could keep Elaine in their hands long enough to make her talk. She had her own infallible way of slipping between their fingers and I knew she would have used it. No, they couldn't be looking for us ...
Pod said, "Brace yourself. I'm going off automatic. We've got more maneuverability on manual, and we couldn't outrun a Prowler anyhow."
I felt a strange little wrench somewhere in my mind as the truck lurched and we broke, maybe forever, the bond with that humming artery which had been guiding us down the highway. The artery of Comus. We were on our own.
Pod said, "Listen." And after a moment I heard it too—a siren that wailed high and then low, shrill and demanding. In the rearview mirror I saw the distant spot of red swell with terrifying speed as it swept toward us down the road, radiant in its own crimson light. The noise swelled as the teardrop shape swelled. A sight to make the heart hesitate and the breath come faster. Already I'd begun to forget how intensely red they are, how big, how fast.
It swung wide around the set of headlights just in front of it, screamed peremptorily, and crowded the two shining eyes to a halt at the edge of the road. Then the little tableau leaped backward and dwindled to a dot as Pod put on more speed. The truck groaned and boomed hollowly. The road poured past lie a river in flood. The stars burned white above the treetops. I heard a heavy buzzing overhead even above the truck's thunder, and a moment later we saw the lights of a laboring helicopter sinking toward Corby like an overladen bee buzzing in bass. And another. And a third.