“Rima! This asphalt is cracked! It’s covered with moss!”
“I thought it was more comfortable than usual.”
He looked uneasily around and saw through the mist a thing which shocked him out of tiredness. A dark humped headless creature, about four feet high with many legs, stood perfectly still in front of them. The feet were gathered together and the legs bent as if to jump. Lanark felt Rima grip his shoulder and whisper, “A spider.”
His scalp tightened. There was a thudding in his ears. He stood up and whispered, “Give me the torch.”
“I haven’t a torch. Come away.”
“I’m going nowhere with that behind me.”
He took a breath and stepped forward. The dark body became a cluster of bodies, each with its own leg. He called happily, “Rima, it’s toadstools!”
A clump of big toadstools grew on the yellow line so that half the domed heads tilted left and the other half to the right. Lanark bent down and stared between the stems. They were rooted in a heap of rotten cloth with rusty buckles and a blistered blue cylinder in it. He pointed: “Look, the thermos flask! That pile of old clothing must be your rucksack!”
“Don’t touch! It’s horrible!”
“How did they come here? We left them beside the chariots. They can’t have crawled along the road to meet us.”
“Can any dreadful thing not happen here?”
“Be sensible, Rima. Strange things have happened here but nothing dreadful. This fungus is a form of life, like you and me.”
“Like you, perhaps. Not like me.”
Lanark was fascinated. Peering closely he moved round the cluster and felt his ankles brushed by something light.
“And, Rima, here’s ferns and grass.”
“What’s wonderful about grass?”
“It’s better than a desert full of rusty wheels. Come on, there’s a slope. Let’s climb it.”
“Why? My back’s sore, and you’re supposed to be tired.”
Beyond the toadstools the road vanished under an overgrown embankment. Lanark scrambled upward and Rima, grumbling, came after.
They climbed through gorse, brambles and bracken, feeling glad of the protective coats. The white mist faded until they emerged into luminous darkness under an immense sky of stars. They stood beside a ten-lane motorway which lay across the mist like a causeway across an ocean of foam. Vehicles were whizzing along too quickly to be recognized: tiny stars in the distance would suddenly expand, pass in a blast of wind, shrink to stars on the opposite horizon, and vanish. There was a thirty-feet-high road sign on the grassy verge:
: “Good,” said
Lanark happily. “We’re on the right road at last. Come on.”
“It seems a general rule that when I’m able to walk you feel exhausted and when I need a rest you keep dragging me along.” “Are you really tired, Rima?”
“Oh, no. Not at all. Me tired? What a strange idea.”
“Good. Come along, then.”
As they started walking a glow appeared on the misty horizon to their left and a globe of yellow light slid up into the sky from behind a jagged black mountain. Rima said, “The moon!” “It can’t be the moon. It’s going too fast.”
The globe was certainly marked like the moon. It swung upward across Orion, passed near the Pole Star and sunk down below the horizon on the far side of the road. A little later, with a piece of rim missing from one side, it rose again behind the mountain on the left. Rima stood still and said desperately “I can’t go on. My back hurts, my stomach’s swollen, and this coat is far too tight.”
She unbuttoned it frantically and Lanark stared in surprise. The dress had hung loose from her shoulders, but now her stomach was swollen almost to her breasts and the amber velvet was as tight as the skin of a balloon. She gazed down as if struck by something and said faintly, “Give me your hand.”
She pressed his hand against the lower side of her belly, staring wildly at his face. He had begun to say, “I feel nothing,” when his palm received, through the tense stomach wall, a queer little pat. He said, “Somebody is in there.”
She said hysterically, “I’m going to have a baby!”
He gaped at her and she glared accusingly back. He struggled to keep serious and failed. His face was stretched by a huge happy grin. She bared her teeth and shrieked, “You’re glad! You’re glad!”
“I’m sorry, I can’t help it.”
In a low intense voice she said, “How you must hate me….” “I love you!”
“… grinning when I’m going to have horrible pains and will split open and maybe die …”
“You won’t die!”
“… beside a fucking motorway without a fucking doctor in fucking sight.”
“We’ll get to Unthank before then.”
“How do you know?”
“And if we don’t I’ll take care of you. Births are natural things, usually.”
She knelt on the grass, covered her face and wept hysterically while Lanark started helplessly laughing, for he felt a burden lifted from him, a burden he had carried all his life without noticing. Then he grew ashamed and knelt and embraced her, and she allowed him. They squatted a long time like that.
CHAPTER 34.
Intersections
When he next looked at the sky a half-moon was sailing over it. He said, “Rima, I think we should try to keep moving.” She got to her feet and they started walking arm in arm. She said miserably, “It was wrong of you to be glad.”
“There’s nothing to worry about, Rima. Listen, when Nan was pregnant she had nobody to help her, but she still wanted a baby and had one without any bother.”
“Stop comparing me with other women. Nan’s a fool. Anyway, she loved Sludden. That makes a difference.”
Lanark stood still, stunned, and said, “Don’t you love me?” She said impatiently, “I like you, Lanark, and of course I depend on you, but you aren’t very inspiring, are you?”
He stared at the air, pressing a clenched fist to his chest and feeling utterly weak and hollow. An excited expression came on her face. She pointed past him and whispered, “Look!”
Fifty yards ahead a tanker stood on the verge with a man beside it, apparently pissing on the grass between the wheels. Rima said, “Ask him for a lift.”
Lanark felt too feeble to move. He said, “I don’t like begging favours from strangers.”
“Don’t you? Then I will.”
She hurried past him, shouting, “Excuse me a minute!”
The driver turned and faced them, buttoning his fly. He wore jeans and a leather jacket. He was a young man with spiky red hair who regarded them blankly. Rima said, “Excuse me, could you give me a lift? I’m terribly tired.”
Lanark said, “We’re trying to get to Unthank.”
The driver said, “I’m going to Imber.”
He was staring at Rima. Her hood had fallen back and the pale golden hair hung to her shoulders, partly curtaining her ardently smiling face. The coat hung open and the bulging stomach raised the short dress far above her knees. The driver said, “Imber isn’t all that far from Unthank, though.”
Rima said, “Then you’ll let us come?”
“Sure, if you like.”
He walked to the cab, opened the door, climbed in and reached down his hand. Lanark muttered, “I’ll help you up,” but she took the driver’s hand, set her foot on the hub of the front wheel and was pulled inside before Lanark could touch her. So he scrambled in after and shut the door behind him. The cabin was hot, oil-smelling, dimly lit and divided in two by a throbbing engine as thick as the body of a horse. A tartan rug lay over this and the driver sat on the far side. Lanark said, “I’ll sit in the middle, Rima.”
She settled astride the rug saying, “No, I’m supposed to sit here.”
“But won’t the vibration … do something?”
She laughed.
“I’m sure it will do nothing nasty. It’s a nice vibration.”
The dr
iver said, “I always sit the birds on the engine. It warms them up.”
He put two cigarettes in his mouth, lit them and gave one to Rima. Lanark settled gloomily into the other seat. The driver said, “Are you happy then?”
Rima said “Oh, yes. It’s very kind of you.”
The driver turned out the light and drove on.
The noise of the engine made it hard to talk without shouting. Lanark heard the driver yell, “In the pudding club, eh?”
“You’re very observant.”
“Queer how some birds can carry a stomach like that without getting less sexy. Why you going to Unthank?”
“My boyfriend wants to work there.”
“What does he do?”
“He’s a painter—an artist.”
Lanark yelled, “I’m not a painter!”
“An artist, eh? Does he paint nudes?”
“I’m not an artist!”
Rima laughed and said, “Oh, yes. He’s very keen on nudes.” “I bet I know who his favourite model is.”
Lanark stared glumly out of the window. Rima’s hysterical despair had changed to a gaiety he found even more disturbing because he couldn’t understand it. On the other hand, it was good to feel that each moment saw them nearer Unthank. The speed of the lorry had changed his view of the moon; its thin crescent stood just above the horizon, apparently motionless, and gave a comforting sense that time was passing more slowly. He heard the driver say, “Go on, give it to him,” and Rima pushed something plump into his hands. The driver shouted, “Count what’s in it—go on count what’s in it!”
The object was a wallet. Lanark thrust it violently back across Rima’s thighs. The driver took it with one hand and yelled, “Two hundred quid. Four days’ work. The overtime’s chronic but the creature pays well for it. Half of it yours for a drawing of your girl here in the buff, right?”
“I’m not an artist and we’re going to Unthank.”
“No. Nothing much in Unthank. Imber’s the place. Bright lights, strip clubs, Swedish massage, plenty of overtime for artists in Imber. Something for everybody. I’ll show you round.”
“I’m not an artist!”
“Have another fag, ducks, and light one for me.”
Rima took the cigarette packet, crying, “Can you really afford it?”
“You saw the wallet. I can afford anything, right?”
“I wish my boyfriend were more like you!”
“Thing about me, if I want a thing, I don’t care how much I pay. To heck with consequences. You only live once, right? You come to Imber.”
Rima laughed and shouted, “I’m a bit like that too.”
Lanark shouted, “We’re going to Unthank!” but the others didn’t seem to hear. He bit his knuckles and looked out again. They were deep among lanes of vast speeding vehicles and container trucks stencilled with cryptic names: QUANTUM, VOLSTAT, CORTEXIN, ALGOLAGNICS. The driver seemed keen to show his skill in overtaking them. Lanark wondered how soon they would reach the road leading off to Unthank, and how he could make the lorry stop there. Moreover, if the lorry did stop, he (being near the door) must get out before Rima. What if the driver drove off with her? Perhaps she would like that. She seemed perfectly happy. Lanark wondered if pregnancy and exhaustion had driven her mad. He felt exhausted himself. His last clear thought before falling asleep was that whatever happened he must not fall asleep.
He woke to a perplexing stillness and took a while understanding where he was. They were parked at the roadside and an argument was happening in the cabin to his right. The driver was saying angrily, “In that case you can clear out.” Rima said, “But why?”
“You changed your mind pretty sudden, didn’t you?”
“Changed my mind about what?”
“Get out! I know a bitch when I see one.”
Lanark quickly opened the door saying, “Yes, we’ll leave now. Thanks for the lift.”
“Take care of yourself, mate. You’ll land in trouble if you stick with her.”
Lanark climbed on the verge and helped Rima down after him. The door slammed and the tanker rumbled forward, becoming a light among other lights whizzing into the distance. Rima giggled and said, “What a funny man. He seemed really upset.”
“No wonder.”
“What do you mean?”
“You were flirting with him and he took it seriously.”
“I wasn’t flirting. I was being polite. He was a terrible driver.” “How does the baby feel?”
Rima flushed and said, “You’ll never let me forget that, will you?”
She started rapidly walking.
The road ran between broad shallow embankments. Rima said suddenly, “Lanark, have you noticed something different about the traffic? There’s none going the opposite way.” “Was there before?”
“Of course. It only stopped a minute ago. And what’s that noise?”
They listened. Lanark said, “Thunder, I think. Or an aeroplane.”
“No, it’s a crowd cheering.”
“If we walk on we may find out.”
It became plain that something strange was happening ahead, for lights had begun clustering on the horizon. The embankment grew steeper until the road passed into a cutting. The verge was now a grassy strip below a dark black cliff with thick ivy on it. Wailing sirens sounded behind them and police cars sped past toward the light and thunder. The cutting ahead seemed blocked by glare, and vehicles slowed down as they neared it. Soon Rima and Lanark reached a great queue of trucks and tankers. The drivers stood on the verge talking in shouts and gestures, for the din increased with every step. They passed another road sign:
: and eventually Rima
halted, pressed her hands over her ears, and by mouthings and headshakings made it clear she would go no farther. Lanark frowned angrily but the noise made thought impossible. There was something animal and even human in it, but only machinery could have sustained such a huge screeching, shrieking, yowling, growling, grinding, whining, yammering, stammering, trilling, chirping and yacacawing. It passed into the earth and jarred painfully on the soles of the feet. Still holding her ears Rima turned and hurried back and Lanark, after a moment of hesitation, was glad to follow.
Many more vehicles had joined the queue and drivers were standing on the road between them, for the backs of the trucks gave shelter from the sound. A young policeman with a torch was speaking to a group and Lanark gripped Rima’s sleeve and drew her over to listen. He was saying, “A tanker hit an Algolagnics transporter at the Unthank intersection. I’ve never seen anything like it—nerve circuits spread across all the lanes like bloody burst footballs and screaming enough to crumble the road surface. The council’s been alerted but God knows how long they’ll take to deal with a mess like that. Days—weeks, perhaps. If you’re going to Imber you’ll need to go round by New Cumbernauld. If you’re for Unthank, well, forget it.”
Someone asked him about the drivers.
“How should I know? If they’re lucky they were killed on impact. Without protective clothes you can’t get within sixty metres of the place.”
The policeman left the group and Lanark touched his shoulder saying, “Can I speak to you?”
He flashed his torch on their faces and said sharply, “What’s that on your brows?”
“A thumb print.”
“Well, how can I help you, sir? Be quick, we’re busy at the moment.”
“This lady and I are travelling to Unthank—”
“Out of the question sir. The road’s impassable.”
“But we’re walking. We needn’t keep to the road.”
“Walking!”
The policeman rubbed his chin. At length he said, “There’s the old pedestrian subway. It hasn’t been used for years, but as far as I know it isn’t officially derelict. I mean, it isn’t boarded up.”
He led them across the grass to a dark shape on the cutting wall. It was a square entrance, eight feet high and half hidden by a heavy swag of ivy. The p
oliceman flashed his torch into it. A floor, under a drift of withered leaves, sloped down into blackness. Rima said firmly, “I’m not going in there.”
Lanark said, “Do you know how long it is?”
“Can’t say, sir. Wait a minute….”
The policeman probed the wall near the entrance with his torch beam and revealed a faded inscription:
EDESTRIAN UNDER ASS UNTHAN 00 ETRES
The policeman said, “A subway with an entrance like this can’t be very long. A pity the lights are broken.”
“Could you possibly lend me your torch? We mislaid ours and Rima—this lady—is pregnant, as you see.”
“I’m sorry sir. No.”
Rima said, “It’s no use discussing it. I refuse to go in there.” The policeman said, “Then you’ll have to hitch a lift back to New Cumbernauld.”
He turned and walked away. Lanark said patiently, “Now listen, we must be sensible. If we use this tunnel we’ll reach Unthank in fifteen minutes, perhaps less. It’s unlit but there’s a handrail on the wall so we can’t lose our way. New Cumbernauld may be hours from here, and I want to get you into hospital as quickly as possible.”
“I hate the dark, I hate hospitals and I’m not going!”
“There’s nothing wrong with darkness. I’ve met several dreadful things in my life, and every one was in sunshine or a well-lit room.”
“Yet you pretend to want sunshine!”
“I do, but not because I’m afraid of the opposite.”
“How wise you are. How strong. How noble. How useless.” Bickering fiercely they had moved into the tunnel mouth to escape the blast of the din outside. Lanark abruptly paused, pointed into the dark and whispered, “Look, the end!”
Their eyes had grown used to the black and now they could see, in the greatest depth of it, a tiny, pale, glimmering square. Rima suddenly gripped the handrail and walked down the slope. He hurried after her and silently took her arm, afraid a wrong word would overturn her courage.
The roaring behind them sank into silence and the withered leaves stopped whispering under their feet. The ground levelled out. The air grew cold, then freezing. Lanark had kept his eyes fixed on the glimmering little square. He said, “Rima, have you let go the handrail?”
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