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you've got to steal my car. And maybe you'll need it if anything happens to
me. But nothing's going to happen to me, so you'll never hear this." He
laughed.
"This is nuts. I'm nuts. Getting a little daffy, anyway. Okay, that's it. I
hope you never hear this, but if you do... oh, hell, I guess I should erase
this and just tell you. I don't know.
Maybe I shouldn't. When you get right down to it, maybe I
don't trust anybody. Not even you, Jake. I've learned, believe me. You can't
trust anybody in this slinking world. Universe.
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John DeChancie
Yeah, the whole universe is pretty undependable, when you get right down to
it. Okay. I'll decide later whether to tell you.
See ya."
And that was it.
Sitting beside me in the front seat, Roland chuckled. I
couldn't recall him opening the other door and getting in.
He said, "I remember us sitting here, trying to figure out how this insane
vehicle worked. Little did we know it had been designed by a paranoid teenager
from the distant past, who had the help of some of the most advanced
technological intelligence of the far future."
"Funny how things work out," I said.
"By the way there was a reason for my suggesting you try the lock."
I looked at him. In my version of reality, he hadn't said a thing, The key
beeped in my pocket. I took it out.
"Jake, something coming. I think it's that dust-devil busi-
ness that chased us a while back."
Roland was smiling as though he'd just brought off an elaborate practical
joke.
"I see what you mean," I said.
(T'^W^S
26
I SPOKE INTO the key.
"Sam, I'm in the Chevy. I'm taking it out against that thing."
"What?" Sam came back. "How did you Never mind.
All right, I guess it's the only superweapon we've got."
"It's the only weapon we've got. Over and out."
The ignition lock was set into the instrument panel on the right-hand side.
There was no key, of course. "Damn it, Carl," I muttered, "you forgot to tell
me how to start this thing without a key."
"I'd suggest putting your hands on the wheel," Roland said.
I did. And the engine roared to life.
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"Roland, how did you know that?"
"If the Culmination's good for anything, it's good for knowing things. Most of
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it's useless, but now and then..."
He laughed.
I depressed the clutch pedal and fiddled with the floor-
mounted "four on the floor" gearshift until I felt the transmis-
sion settle into reverse, then craned my head around and backed out of the
trailer. The Chevy hit the temple floor with a slam and a jolt. I jerked the
gearshift lever around again, this time finding the top of the left upright on
the semi-imaginary
H, and rammed it into first gear, my arms and legs and re-
flexes quickly remembering all the coordinated movements.
Once you learn to drive a standard transmission, you never forget.
I peeled out around the truck and weaved in and around the many supporting
columns, heading for the outside. I slid into
258
John DeChancle second and popped the clutch, and the tires gave a short
chirping screech like a yelp of pain from a small animal. I
swerved around a sacrificial altar, dodged a partition, and hit an open area
of polished salmon-pink floor that led to the vestibule. The place was
immense, and there was plenty of room to maneuver. By the time we hit open air
the Chevy was screaming for third gear, which I gave it, prematurely, because
now I had to slow down to make the turn onto the side road. I
downshifted, wound out of second gear, shifted to third.
"There," Roland said, pointing to the left.
The Tasmanian Devil was coming at us, following the broad curve the side road
took from the highway. It had lost no energy; the pale orange fire and
luminescent yellow smoke of which it was made still swirled furiously about
its spar-
kling, molten, ever-changing center. Shadows moved within it, the suggestion
of a living thing, its shape constantly shift-
ing, ephemeral, now a manlike form, now a winged demonic thing, now something
else, some nameless terror, a shape out of the night, out of the deepest core
of the ancient mind of man. My stomach coiled and quivered, and the taste of
iron sat bitterly on my tongue.
Roland was busy with the car's weapons control panel, which had materialized
automatically on the dashboard.
"Roland," I said calmly, "Carl never showed me how to fire it, but there's a
weapon on this buggy he called the Green
Balloon."
"That's exactly how he marked it," Roland said, peering at the board. He
pressed a switch.
A spherical object whooshed out from under the car it was green, about a meter
across, and it sparkled like the
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Fourth of July. It streaked directly toward the approaching tomadolike
phenomenon.
The Tasmanian Devil came to a full halt, still spinning. It seemed to sense
what was coming, moving quickly to one side, scooting off the road and up a
grass-covered hillock. Its course unchanged, the balloon went flashing out
over the plain, missing its target by a wide margin.
"Interesting," Roland said.
"At least we know it's afraid of the balloons," I said, not very thankful for
small favors. "Damn. I would've thought they could seek out a target."
PARADOX ALLEY 259
"Maybe the devil is doing something to confuse it."
"Maybe. Try it again."
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