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."
One
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.