without being continually bothered by something out of a bleeding nightmare.”
“I bet you can’t look me in the eye and say that.”
Thaxton spun around. “Look here, I can bloody well —”
The next thing he knew the bunker was in his face. He got up on his elbows, spat sand, and twisted around to see that Dalton had him by the legs. It had been a pretty solid tackle for an elderly man, and Thaxton was amazed.
“I knew the thing would goad you into it,” Dalton said.
“Oh. Uh, thanks. Thanks, old boy. Lost my head, I’m afraid.”
They got up and brushed off sand.
“One look at that fellow,” Dalton said, “and you die.”
“Next thing you’ll say,” the basilisk said peevishly, “is that my breath can kill, too. And then you’ll repeat that old libel about my kind being hatched on a dunghill out of cock’s eggs.”
“Sorry,” Dalton said. “Nothing personal.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet some of your best friends are basilisks.”
With a haughty shake of its head, the creature wheeled its scaly bulk around and slithered away.
“The damnedest thing is,” Thaxton said, “they’re all so bloody
“Well, minority touchiness. Are you ready to putt?”
Both putted, both for a bogey.
Walking away from the green, Thaxton yawned.
“Excuse me! God. Dalton, how long would you say we’ve been at this?”
“I’ve lost all track of time.”
“Seems it’s been days to me. Couldn’t be, though. We haven’t even played eighteen holes.”
“Time runs differently in different universes.”
“Yes, but I’m speaking of subjective time. I think we’ve been at this for over twenty-four hours.”
“Could be,” Dalton said. “It’s been slow going. We lost a few hours resting your leg after lunch.”
“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m bloody fagged out.”
“Then let’s book a room at yonder hotel.”
“What?” Thaxton halted and looked. “Oh. Well, that’s convenient, I must say.”
“Told you this course was well designed.”
“By an inspired psychotic. Look at that thing.”
TARTARUS INN
Bed and Breakfast
All Gentle Beings Welcome
The building was a Gothic monstrosity with turrets and cupolas, widow’s walks and rosette windows. Rolling moors surrounded it, wreaths of mist draping the withered sedge and gnarled clumps of grass.
Lightning split the sky, and thunder rolled across the bogs.
“Oh, I can see I’m going to get a lot of sleep here,” Thaxton said. “By the way, how do we pay for this?”
“Well, I still carry my American Express Card, out of habit,” Dalton said. “I was going to flash it at the restaurant, until events obviated it.”
“Why of course, sir,” the gargoyle desk clerk said. “We take all major credit cards.”
“Good,” Dalton said. “A double with a private bath?”
“We have a wonderful room in the east wing with a view of the Blasted Heath.”
“How nice,” Thaxton said.
Dalton signed the guest register while Thaxton inspected the gift shop. Talismans, pentacles, and other occult paraphernalia were plentiful, along with the usual scented soaps, inscribed mugs, and saltwater taffy. He stared in fascination at the Cthulhu dolls. The bellhop came and he had to tear himself away.
The room was full of quaint furniture draped with lace doilies, and the beds had canopies.
“Charming,” Dalton said. “You could have quite a nice weekend’s dalliance here.”
“No doubt,” Thaxton said, lifting up the phone and scanning a menu he’d found on the dresser. “Hello, Room Service? Yes, room 203, here. Is supper still being served? Breakfast?” He looked at his watch. “Fine. I’ll take tea, toast, orange juice, and all that, two cock’s eggs, hard-boiled, and the biggest basilisk steak you have, rare. That’s right. Room 203, and be quick about it.”
Twenty-four
City
It was still dark when they boarded an omnibus heading for the suburbs. The sky was starless and the streets were almost deserted, a lone street cleaner, whirring its way along the curb, the only denizen stirring. The bus driver gave them a cheery smile when they got on.
“Getting an early start, eh?” she said. “Your shop storming for a quota overfulfillment?”
“Better and better!” Gene said.
“Every day!” she responded.
Gene’s hand had instinctively reached into his pocket for fare, and he took comfort that the reflex was still there. The two days he’d been here had seemed the longest stretch of time he had ever experienced.
He held Alice’s hand out of the driver’s sight as they rode. The high rises continued for several miles, then thinned out, the gaps filled by older structures, some that were once single-family homes now carved up into tiny apartments. There were many vacant lots with old foundations still standing. The city had a raw look, as if it were being continually cleared for new development. The past must be obliterated and the present erected over top of it. Soon the landscape would hold nothing but faceless monoliths.
Dawn came, shading the sky purple.
“Do you know how far out the last stop is?”
Alice shook her head. “I’ve never ridden this line.”
The city gave way to suburbs. There were a few factories and more high rises, but no houses. There were some boarded-up apartment buildings.
“Do you know the population of … whatever this is, the country, the state?”
Alice said, “The population? How many citizens? I don’t know.”
“Did it ever strike you that there aren’t a lot of people, that there are less and less as time goes on?”
“Well, not really. What made you ask?”
“Housing doesn’t seem to be a problem. Or is that because of heroic construction-worker efforts?”
Alice shrugged. “I’ve never thought of it.”
They passed light-industrial parks, warehouses, yards full of building materials, lots with parked earth-moving equipment. Everything looked dreary and forlorn.
They rode for about fifteen more minutes, passing through the last of the suburbs. Finally the omnibus pulled over to the side of the road.
“End of the line,” the driver announced.
They got off and walked along the road. There were overgrown fields to either side, trees bordering them.
“Let’s cut across and get into the woods,” Gene said.
Dew drenched their shoes as they made their way through the tall grass.
“Do you know where we’re going?” she asked.
“Only generally. The place I want to get to is due east of the city. The roads are different here, but the lay of the land is the same. As far as I can tell, that road would be U.S. Route 30 in my world. We want to get as far along it as we can. Trouble is, we’re miles from the place I want to get to. Maybe thirty miles. That’s a lot to walk.”
“We’ll get there,” she said gaily.
“Don’t be so goddamned optimistic. I’m sick of the smiles, the phony cheeriness.”
