Highways in Hiding

by George O. Smith

  XXIII

  Three times during the night I tried to flip around and cut my waythrough their cordon, and each time I faced interception. It was evidentthat we were being driven and so long as we went to their satisfactionthey weren't going to clobber us.

  Nurse Farrow woke up along about dawn, stretched, and remarked that shecould use a toothbrush and a tub of hot water and amusedly beratedherself for not filling the back seat before we took off. Then shebecame serious again and asked for the details of the night, which Islipped her as fast as I could.

  We stopped long enough to swap seats, and I stretched out but I couldn'tsleep.

  Finally I said, "Stop at the next dog wagon, Farrow. We're going to eat,comes anything."

  "Won't that be dangerous?"

  "Shucks," I grunted angrily. "They'll probably thank us. They'reprobably hungry too."

  "We'll find out."

  The smell of a roadside diner is usually a bit on the thick and greasyside, but I was so hungry that morning that it smelled like mother'skitchen. We went in, ordered coffee and orange juice, and thendisappeared into the rest rooms long enough to clean up. That felt sogood we ordered the works and watched the guy behind the fryplate handlethe bacon, eggs, and home-fries with a deft efficient manner.

  We pitched in fast, hoping to beat the flies to our breakfast. We wereso intent that we paid no attention to the car that came into the lotuntil a man came in, ordered coffee and a roll, and then carried it overto our table.

  "Fine day for a ride, isn't it?"

  I eyed him; Farrow bristled and got very tense. I said, "I doubt that Iknow you, friend."

  "Quite likely. But I know you, Cornell."

  I took a fast dig; there was no sign of anything lethal except the usualcollection of tire irons, screwdrivers, and other tools which, oddlyenough, seldom come through as being dangerous because they're notweapons-by-design.

  "I'm not heeled, Cornell. I'm just here to save us all some trouble."

  #Telepath?#

  He nodded imperceptibly. Then he said, "We'll all save time, gasoline,and maybe getting into grief with the cops if you take Route 40 out ofSt. Louis."

  "Suppose I don't like U.S. 40?"

  "Get used to it," he said with a crooked smile. "Because you'll takeU.S. 40 out of St. Louis whether you like it or not."

  I returned his crooked smile. I also dug his hide and he was a Mekstrom,of course. "Friend," I replied, "Nothing would convince me, after whatyou've said, that U.S. 40 is anything but a cowpath; slippery when wet;and impassible in the Early Spring, Late Summer, and the third Thursdayafter Michelmas."

  He stood up. "Cornell, I can see your point. You don't like U.S. 40. SoI'll help you good people. If you don't want to drive along such a lousyslab of concrete, just say the word and we'll arrange for you to take itin style, luxury, and without a trace of pain or strain. I'll be seein'you. And a very pleasant trip to you, Miss Farrow."

  Then the character got up, went to the cashier and paid for ourbreakfast as well as his own. He took off in his car and I have neverseen him since.

  Farrow looked at me, her face white and her whole attitude one offright. "U.S. 40," she said in a shaky voice, "runs like a stretchedstring from St. Louis to Indianapolis."

  She didn't have to tell me any more. About sixty miles North ofIndianapolis on Indiana State Highway 37 lies the thriving metropolis ofMarion, Indiana, the most important facet of which (to Farrow and me) isan establishment called the Medical Research Center.

  Nothing was going to make me drive out of St. Louis along U.S. 40.Period; End of message; No answer required.

  Nothing, because I was very well aware of their need to collect me aliveand kicking. If I could not roar out of St. Louis in the direction Iselected, I was going to turn my car end for end and have at them. Notin any mild manner, but with deadly intent to do deadly damage. If I'dmake a mild pass, they'd undoubtedly corral me by main force and carryme off kicking and screaming. But if I went at them to kill or getkilled, they'd have to move aside just to prevent me from killingmyself. I didn't think I'd get to the last final blow of thatself-destruction. I'd win through.

  So we left the diner after a breakfast on our enemy's expense accountand took off again.

  I was counting on St. Louis. The center of the old city is one bigshapeless blob of a dead area; so nice and cold that St. Louis hasreversed the usual city-type blight area growth. Ever since Rhine, theslum sections have been moving out and the new buildings have beenmoving in. So with the dead area and the brand-new, wide streets andfancy traffic control, St. Louis was the place to go in along one road,get lost in traffic, and come out, roaring along any road desirable. Icould not believe that any outfit, hoping to work under cover, couldcollect enough manpower and cars to block every road, lane, highway andduckrunway that led out of a city as big as St. Louis.

  Again they hazed us by pacing along parallel roads and behind us withthe open end of their crescent aimed along U.S. 67. We went like hell;without slowing a bit we sort of swooped up to St. Louis and took a fastdive into that big blob-shaped dead area. We wound up in traffic andtied Boy Scout knots in our course. I was concerned about overheadcoverage from a 'copter even though I've been told that the St. Louisdead area extends upward in some places as high as thirteen thousandfeet.

  The only thing missing was some device or doodad that would let us useour perception or telepathy in this deadness while they couldn't. As itwas, we were as psi-blind as they were, so we had to go along thestreets with our eyes carefully peeled for cars of questionableownership. We saw some passenger cars with out-of-state licenses andgave them wide clearances. One of them hung on our tail until Icommitted a very neat coup by running through a stoplight andsandwiching my car between two whopping big fourteen-wheel moving vans.I'd have enjoyed the expression on the driver's face if I could haveseen it. But then we were gone and he was probably cussing.

  I stayed between the vans as we wound ourselves along the road andturned into a side street.

  I stayed between them too long.

  Because the guy in front slammed on his air-brakes and the big van cameto a stop with a howl of tires on concrete. The guy behind did not evenslow down. He closed in on us like an avalanche. I took a fast lookaround and fought the wheel of my car to turn aside, but he whaled intomy tail and we went sliding forward. I was riding my brakes but the massof that moving van was so great that my tires just wore flats on thepavement-side.

  We were bearing down on that stopped van and it looked as though we weregoing to be driving a very tall car with a very short wheelbase in avery short time.

  Then the whole back panel of the front van came tumbling towards me fromthe top, pivoting on a hinge at the bottom, making a fine ramp. The vanbehind me nudged us up the ramp and we hurtled forward against a thick,resilient pad that stopped my car without any damage either to the caror to the inhabitants.

  Then the back panel closed up and the van took off.

  Two big birds on each side opened the doors of our car simultaneouslyand said "Out!"

  The tall guy on my side gave me a cocksure smile and the short guy said,"We're about to leave St. Louis on U.S. 40, Cornell. I hope you won'tfind this journey too rough."

  I started to take a swing, but the tall one caught my elbow and threw meoff balance. The short one reached down and picked up a baseball bat."Use this, Cornell," he told me. "Then no one will get hurt."

  I looked at the pair of them, and then gave up. There are odd charactersin this world who actually enjoy physical combat and don't mind gettinghurt if they can hurt the other guy more. These were the type. Takingthat baseball bat and busting it over the head of either one would bethe same sort of act as kids use when they square off in an alley andexchange light blows which they call a "cardy" just to make the fightlegal. All it would get me was a sore jaw and a few cracked ribs.

  So after my determination to take after them with murderous intent,they'd pulled my teeth by scooping me up in this van and disar
ming me.

  I relaxed.

  The short one nodded, although he looked disappointed that I hadn'tallowed him the fun of a shindy. "You'll find U.S. 40 less rough thanyou expected," he said. "After all, it's like life; only rough if youmake it rough."

  "Go to hell and stay there," I snapped. That was about as weak arejoinder as I've ever emitted, but it was all I could get out.

  The tall one said, "Take it easy, Cornell. You can't win 'em all."

  I looked across the nose of our trapped car to Farrow. She was leaningagainst the hood, facing her pair. They were just standing there atease. One of them was offering a cigarette and the other held a lighterready. "Relax," said the one with the smokes. The other one said, "Mightas well, Miss Farrow. Fighting won't get nobody nowhere but where you'regoing anyway. Might as well go on your own feet."

  Scornfully, Farrow shrugged. "Why should I smoke my own?" she askednobody in particular.

  Mentally I agreed: #Take 'em for all they're worth, Farrow!# And then Ireached for one, too. Along the side of the van were benches. I satdown, stretched out on my back and let the smoke trickle up. I finishedmy cigarette and then found that the excitement of this chase, havingdied so abruptly, left me with only a desire to catch up on sleep.

  I dozed off thinking that it wasn't everybody who started off to go toHomestead, Texas, and ended up in Marion, Indiana.

  * * * * *

  Scholar Phelps did not have the green carpet out for our arrival, but hewas present when our mobile prison cell opened deep inside of theMedical Center grounds. So was Thorndyke. Thorndyke and three nurses ofAmazon build escorted Farrow off with the air of captors collecting atraitor.

  Phelps smiled superciliously at me and said, "Well, young sir, you'vegiven us quite a chase."

  "Give me another chance and we'll have another chase," I told himgrumpily.

  "Not if we can help it," he boomed cheerfully. "We've big plans foryou."

  "Have I got a vote? It's 'Nay!' if I do."

  "You're too precipitous," he told me. "It is always an error, Mr.Cornell, to be opinionated. Have an open mind."

  "To what?"

  "To everything," he said with an expansive gesture. "The error of allthinking, these days, is that people do not think. They merely followsomeone else's thinking."

  "And I'm to follow yours?"

  "I'd prefer that, of course. It would indicate that you were possessedof a mind of your own; that you weren't merely taking the lazy man'sattitude and following in the footsteps of your father."

  "Skip it," I snapped. "Your way isn't--"

  "Now," he warned with a wave of a forefinger like a prohibitionistwarning someone not to touch that quart, "One must never form an opinionon such short notice. Remember, all ideas are not to be rejected justbecause they do not happen to agree with your own preconceived notions."

  "Look, Phelps," I snapped, deliberately omitting his title which I knewwould bite a little, "I don't like your personal politics and I deploreyour methods. You can't go on playing this way--"

  "Young man, you err," he said quietly. He did not even look nettled thatI'd addressed him in impolite (if not rough) terms. "May I point outthat I am far ahead of your game? Thoroughly outnumbered, and inignorance of the counter-movement against me until you so vigorouslybrought it to my attention; within a year I have fought thecounter-movement to a standstill, caused the dispersement of their mainforces, ruined their far-flung lines of communication, and have soconsolidated my position that I have now made open capture of the mainroving factor. The latter is you, young man. A very disturbing influenceand so very necessary to the conduct of this private war. You prate ofmy attitude, Mr. Cornell. You claim that such an attitude must bedefeated. Yet as you stand there mouthing platitudes, we are preparingto make a frontal assault upon their main base at Homestead. We've wagedour war of attrition; a mere spearhead will break them and scatter themto the far winds."

  "Nice lecture," I grunted. "Who are your writers?"

  "Let's not attempt sarcasm," he said crisply. "It sits ill upon you, Mr.Cornell."

  "I'd like to sit on you," I snapped.

  "Your humor is less tolerable than your sarcasm."

  "Can it!" I snapped. "So you've collected me. I'll still--"

  "You'll do very little, Mr. Cornell," he told me. "Your determination toattack us tooth and nail was an excellent program, and with another typeof person it might have worked. But I happen to know that your will tolive is very great, young man, and that in the final blow, you'd nothave the will to die great enough to carry your assault to itscompletion."

  "Know a lot, don't you."

  "Yes, indeed I do. So now if you're through trying to fence at words,we'll go to your quarters."

  "Lead on," I said in a hollow voice.

  With an air of stage-type politeness, he indicated a door. He showed meout and followed me. He steered me to a big limousine with a chauffeurand offered me cigarettes from a box on the arm rest as the driverstarted the turbine. The car purred with that muted sound ofwell-leashed power.

  "You could be of inestimable value to us," he said in a conversationaltone. "I am talking this way to you because you can be of much morevalue as a willing ally than you would be if unwilling."

  "No doubt," I replied dryly.

  "I suggest you set aside your preconceived notions and employ a modicumof practical logic," suggested Scholar Phelps. "Observe your positionfrom a slightly different reign of vantage. Be convinced that no matterwhat you do or say, we intend to make use of you to the best of ourability. You are not entertaining any doubts of that fact, I'm sure."

  I shrugged. Phelps was not asking me these things, the inquisitor wasactually telling me. He went right on telling me:

  "Since you will be used no matter what, you might consider theadvisability of being sensible, Mr. Cornell. In blunt words, we areprepared to meet cooperation with certain benefits which will not beproffered otherwise."

  "In blunter words you are offering to hire me."

  Scholar Phelps smiled in a superior manner. "Not that blunt, Mr.Cornell, not that crude. The term 'hire' implies the performance ofcertain tasks in return for stipulated remuneration. No, my intention isto give you a position in this organization the exact terms of which arenot clearly definable. Look, young man, I've indicated that your willingcooperation is more valuable to us than otherwise. Join us and you willenjoy the freedom of our most valued and trusted members; you will takepart in upper level planning; you will enjoy the income and advantagesof top executive personnel." He stopped short and eyed me with apeculiar expression. "Mr. Cornell, you have the most disconcerting way.You've actually caused me to talk as if this organization were some sortof big business instead of a cultural unit."

  I eyed him with the first bit of humor I'd found in many days. "You seemto talk just as though a cultural unit were set above, beyond, andspiritually divorced from anything so sordid as money, position, and thehuman equivalent of the barnyard pecking order," I told him. "So nowlet's stop goofing off, and put it into simple terms. You want me tojoin you willingly, to do your job for you, to advance your program. Inreturn for which I shall be permitted to ride in the solid goldcadillac, quaff rare champagne, and select my own office furniture.Isn't that about it?"

  Scholar Phelps smiled, using a benign expression that indicated that hewas pleased with himself, but which had absolutely nothing to do withhis attitude towards me or any of the rest of the human race.

  "Mr. Cornell, I am well aware of the time it may take for a man toeffect a change in his attitude. In fact, I would be very suspicious ifyou were to make an abrupt reversal. However, I have outlined myposition and you may have time to think it over. Consider, at the veryleast, the fact that while cooperation will bring you pleasure andnon-cooperation will bring you pain, the ultimate result will be that wewill make use of your ability in either case. Now--I will say no morefor the present."

  The limousine had stopped in front of a fo
ur story brick building thatwas only slightly different in general architecture than others in theMedical Center. I could sense some slight difference, but when I took adig at the interior I found to my amazement that this building had beenbuilt deliberately in a dead zone. The dead area stood up in the claritylike a little blob of black ink at the bottom of a crystal clearswimming pool, seen just before the ink began to diffuse.

  Scholar Phelps saw my look of puzzlement and said, suavely, "We'vereversed the usual method of keeping unwilling guests. Here we knowtheir frame of mind and attitude; therefore to build the place in a deadarea keeps them from plotting among themselves. I trust that yourresidence herein will be only temporary, Mr. Cornell."

  I nodded glumly. I was facing those last and final words: _Or Else!_

  Phelps signed a register at a guard's station in the lobby. We took avery fast and efficient elevator to the third floor and Phelps escortedme along a hallway that was lined with doors, dormitory style. In theeye-level center of each door was a bull's eye that looked like one-wayglass and undoubtedly was. I itched to take a look, but Phelps was nothaving any; he stopped my single step with a hand on my arm.

  "This way," he said smoothly.

  I went this way and was finally shown into one of the rooms. My niceclean cell away from home.