The Last Defender Of Camelot

by Roger Zelazny

  "You've got a nice way of putting things when you want to chicken out. You say I'm not really scared, but I've got my mother and my brothers and sisters to worry about, and I got a chick I'm hot on. That's why I'm backing down. No other reason,

  "And that's right, too! I don't understand you. Hell! I don't understand you at all! You're the one who put this idea in my head in the first place!" "So give it back, and let's get moving." He saw Greg's hand slither toward the gun on the door, so he flipped his cigarette into his face and managed to hit him once, in the stomach—a weak, left-handed blow, but it was the best he could manage from that position.

  Then Greg threw himself upon him, and he felt himself borne back into his seat. They wrestled, and Greg's fingers clawed their way up to his face toward his eyes.

  Tanner got his arms free above the elbows, seized Greg's head, twisted and shoved with all his strength. Greg hit the dashboard, went stiff, then went slack. Tanner banged his head against it twice more, just to be sure he wasn't faking. Then he pushed him away and moved back into the driver's seat. He checked all the screens while he caught his breath. There was nothing menacing approaching.

  He fetched cord from the utility chest and bound Greg's hands behind his back. He tied his ankles together and ran a line from them to his wrists. Then he positioned him in the seat, reclined it pan way and tied him in place within it.

  He put the car into gear and headed toward Ohio. Two hours later Greg began to moan, and Tanner turned the music up to drown him out. Landscape had appeared once more: grass and trees, fields of green, orchards of apples, apples still small and green, white farm houses and brown barns and red barns far removed from the roadway he raced along; rows of corn, green and swaying, brown tassels already visible and obviously tended by someone; fences of split timber, green hedges; lofty, star-leafed maples, fresh-looking road signs, a green-shingled steeple from which the sound of a bell came forth.

  The lines in the sky widened, but the sky itself did notdarken, as it usually did before a storm. So he drove on into the afternoon, until he reached the Dayton Abyss.

  He looked down into the fog-shrouded canyon that had caused him to halt. He scanned to the left and the right, decided upon the left and headed north.

  Again, the radiation level was high. And he hurried. slowing only to skirt the crevices, chasms and canyons that emanated from that dark, deep center. Thick yellow vapors seeped forth from some of these and filled the air before him. At one point they were all about him, like a clinging, sulphurous cloud, and a breeze came and parted them. Involuntarily then, he hit the brake, and the car jerked and halted and Greg moaned once more. He stared at the thing for the few seconds that it was visible, then slowly moved forward again.

  The sight was not duplicated for the whole of his passage, but it did not easily go from out of his mind, and he could not explain it where he had seen it. Yellow, hanging and grinning, he had seen a crucified skeleton there beside the Abyss. People, he decided. That explains everything.

  When he left the region of fogs the sky was still dark. He did not realize for a time that he was in the open once more. It had taken him close to four hours to skirt Dayton, and now as he headed across a blasted heath, going east again, he saw for a moment, a tiny piece of the sun, like a sickle, fighting its way ashore on the northern bank of a black river in the sky, and failing.

  His lights were turned up to their fullest intensity, and as he realized what might follow he looked in every direction for shelter.

  There was an old barn on a hill, and he raced toward it. One side had caved in, and the doors had fallen down. He edged in, however, and the interior was moist and moldy looking under his lights. He saw a skeleton which he guessed to be that of a horse within a fallen-down stall.

  He parked and turned off his lights and waited.

  Soon the wailing came again and drowned out Greg's occasional moans and mutterings. There came another sound, not hard and heavy like gunfire, as that which hehad heard in L.A., but gentle, steady and almost purring- He cracked the door, to hear it better.

  Nothing assailed him, so he stepped down from the cab and walked back a way. The radiation level was almost normal, so he didn't bother with his protective suit. He walked back toward the fallen doors and looked outside. He wore the pistol behind his belt.

  Something gray descended in droplets and the sun fought itself partly free once more.

  It was rain, pure and simple. He had never seen rain, pure and simple, before. So he lit a cigarette and watched it fall.

  It came down with only an occasional rumbling and nothing else accompanied it. The sky was still a bluish color beyond the bands of black.

  It fell all about him. It ran down the frame to his left. A random gust of wind blew some droplets into his face, and he realized that they were water, nothing more. Puddles formed on the ground outside. He tossed a chunk of wood into one and saw it splash and float. From somewhere high up inside the barn he heard the sounds of birds. He smelied the sick-sweet smell of decaying straw. Off in the shadows to his right he saw a rusted threshing machine. Some feathers drifted down about him, and he caught one in his hand and studied it. Light, dark, fluffy, ribbed. He'd never really looked at a feather before. It worked almost like a zipper, the way the individual branches clung to one another. He let it go, and the wind caught it, and it vanished somewhere toward bis back. He looked out once more, and back along his trail. He could probably drive through what was coming down now. But he realized Just how tired he was. He found a barrel and sat down on it and lit another cigarette.

  It had been a good run so far; and he found himself thinking about its last stages. He couldn't trust Greg for awhile yet. Not until they were so far that there could be no turning back. Then they'd need each other so badly that he could turn him loose. He hoped he hadn't scrambled his brains completely. He didn't know what more the Alley held. If the storms were less from here on in, however, that would be a big help.

  He sat there for a long while, feeling the cold, moist breezes; and the rainfall lessened after a time, and hewent back to the car and started it. Greg was still unconscious, he noted, as he backed out. This might not be good.

  He took a pill to keep himself alert and he ate some rations as he drove along. The rain continued to come down, but gently. It fell all the way across Ohio, and the sky remained overcast. He crossed into West Virginia at the place called Parkersburg, and then he veered slightly to the north, going by the old Rand-McNally he'd been furnished. The gray day went away into black night, and he drove on.

  There were no more of the dark bats around to trouble him, but he passed several more craters and the radiation gauge rose, and at one point a pack of huge wild dogs pursued him, baying and howling, and they ran along the road and snapped at his tires and barked and yammered and then fell back. There were some tremors beneath his wheels as he passed another mountain that spewed forth bright clouds to his left and made a kind of thunder. Ashes fell, and he drove through them. A flash flood splashed over him, and the engine sputtered and died, twice; but be started it again each time and pushed on ahead, the waters lapping about his sides. Then he reached higher, drier ground, apd riflemen tried to bar his way. He strafed them and hurled a grenade and drove on by. When the darkness went away and the dim moon came up, dark birds circled him and dove down at him, but he ignored them and after a time they, too, were gone.

  He drove until he felt tired again, and then he ate some more and took another pill. By then he was in Pennsylvania, and he felt that if Greg would only come around be would turn him loose and trust him with the driving.

  He halted twice to visit the latrine, and he tugged at the golden band in bis pierced left ear, and he blew his nose and scratched himself. Then he ate more rations and continued on.

  He began to ache, in all his muscles, and he wanted to stop and rest, but he was afraid of the things that might come upon him if he did.

  As he drove through another dead town, th
e rains started again. Not hard, just a drizzly downpour, coldlooking and sterile—a. brittle, shiny screen. He stoppedin the middle of the road before the thing he'd almost driven into, and he stared at it.

  He'd thought at first that it was more black lines in the sky. He'd halted because they'd seemed to appear too suddenly.

  It was a spider's web, strands thick as his arm, strung between two leaning buildings.

  He switched on his forward flame and began to burn it.

  When the fires died, he saw the approaching shape, coming down from high above.

  It was a spider, larger than himself, rushing to check the disturbance.

  He elevated the rocket launchers, took careful aim and pierced it with one white-hot missile.

  It still hung there in the trembling web and seemed to be kicking.

  He turned on the flame again, for a full ten seconds, and when it subsided there was an open way before him.

  He rushed through, wide awake and alert once again, his pains forgotten. He drove as fast as he could, trying to forget the sight.

  Another mountain smoked ahead and to his right, but it did not bloom, and few ashes descended as he passed it.

  He made coffee and drank a cup. After awhile it was morning, and he raced toward it XI He was stuck in the mud, somewhere in eastern Pennsylvania, and cursing. Greg was looking very pale. The sun was nearing midheaven. He leaned back and closed his eyes. It was too much.

  He slept.

  He awoke and felt worse. There was a banging on the side of the car. His hands moved toward fire-control and wing-control, automatically, and his eyes sought the screens.

  He saw an old man, and there were two younger men with him. They were armed, but they stood right before the left wing, and he knew he could cut them- in half in an instant.

  He activated the outside speaker and the audio pickup.

  "What do you want?" he asked, and his voice crackled forth."You okay?" the old man called.

  "Not really. You caught me sleeping."

  "You stuck?"

  "That's about the size of it."

  "I got a mule team can maybe get you out. Can't get *em here before tomorrow morning, though."

  "Great!" said Tanner. "I'd appreciate it"

  "Where you from?"

  "L.A."

  "What's that?"

  "Los Angeles. West Coast."

  There was some murmuring, then, "You're a long way from home, mister."

  "Don't I know it.—Look, if you're serious about those mules, I'd appreciate bell out of it. It's an emergency."

  "What kind of?"

  "You know about Boston?"

  "I know it's there."

  "Well, people are dying up that way of the plague. I've got drugs here can save them, if I can get through."

  There were some more murmurs, then, "We'll help you. Boston's pretty important, and we'll get you loose. Want to come back with us?"

  "Where? And who are you?"

  "The name's Samuel Potter, and these are my sons, Roderick and Caliban. My farm's about six miles off. You're welcome to spend the night."

  "It's not that I don't trust you," said Tanner. "It's just that I don't trust anybody, if you know what I mean. I've been shot at too much recently to want to take the chance."

  "Well, how about if we put up our guns? You're probably able to shoot us from there, ain't you?"

  "That's right."

  "So we're taking a chance just standing here. We're willing to help you. We'd stand to lose if the Boston traders stopped coming to Albany. If there's someone else inside, he can cover you."

  "Wait a minute," said Tanner, and he opened the door.

  The old man stuck out his hand, and Tanner took it and shook it, also his sons'.

  "Is there any kind of doctor around here?" he asked.

  "In the settlement—about thirty miles north."

  "My partner's hurt. I think he needs a doctor." He gestured back toward the cab.

  Sam moved forward and peered within. "Why's he all trussed up like that?" "He went off his rocker, and I had to clobber him. I tied him up, to be safe. But now he doesn't look so good."

  "Then let's whip up a stretcher and get him onto it You lock up tight then, and my boys'll bring him back to the house. We'll send someone for the Doc. You don't look so good yourself. Bet you'd like a bath and a shave and a clean bed."

  "I don't feel so good,** Tanner said. "Let's make that stretcher quick, before we need two."

  He sat upon the fender and smoked while the Potter boys cut trees and stripped them. Waves of fatigue washed over him, and he found it hard to keep his eyes open. His feet felt very far away, and his shoulders ached. The cigarette fell from his fingers, and he leaned backward on the hood.

  Someone was slapping his leg. He forced his eyes open and looked down. "Okay," Potter said. "We cut your partner loose and we got him on the stretcher. Want to lock up and get moving?"

  Tanner nodded and jumped down. He sank almost up to his boot tops when he hit, but he closed the cab and staggered toward the old man in buckskin.

  They began walking across country, and after awhile it became mechanical.

  Samuel Potter kept up a steady line of chatter as he led the way, rifle resting in the crook of his arm. Maybe it was to keep Tanner awake.

  "It's not too far, son, and it'll be pretty easy going in just a few minutes now. What'd you say your name was anyhow?"

  "Hell," said Tanner. "Beg pardon?" "Hell. Hell's my name. Hell Tanner.'* Sam Potter chuckled. "That's a pretty mean name, mister. If it's okay with you, I'll introduce you to my wife and the youngest as 'Mister Tanner.* All right?"

  "That's just fine," Tanner gasped, pulling his boots out of the mire with a sucking sound."We'd sure miss them Boston traders. I hope you make it in time."

  "What is it that they do?"

  "They keep shops in Albany, and twice a year they give a fair—spring and fall. They carry all sort of things we need—needles, thread, pepper, kettles, pans, seed, guns and ammo, all kind of things—and the fairs are pretty good times, too. Most anybody between here and there would help you along. Hope you make it. We'll get you off to a good start again."

  They reached higher, drier ground.

  "You mean it's pretty clear sailing after this?"

  "Well, no. But I'll help you on a map and tell you what to look out for,"

  "I got mine with me," said Tanner, as they topped a hill, and he saw a farm house off in the distance. "That your place?"

  "Correct. It ain't much further now. Real easy walkin' —an' you just lean on my shoulder if you get tired."

  "I can make it," said Tanner. "It's just that I had so many of those pills to keep me awake that I'm starting to feel all the sleep I've been missing- I'll be okay."

  "You'll get to sleep real soon now. And when you're awake again, we'll go over that Jnap of yours, and you can write in all the places I tell you about."

  "Good scene," said Tanner, "good scene," and he put his hand on Sam's shoulder then and staggered along beside him, feeling almost drunk and wishing he were.

  After a hazy eternity be saw the house before him, then the door. The door swung open, and he felt himself falling forward, and that was it.

  XII Sleep. Blackness, distant voices, more blackness. Wherever he lay, it was soft, and he turned over onto his other side and went away again.

  When everything finally flowed together into a coherent ball and he opened his eyes, there was light streaming in through the window to his right, falling in rectangles upon the patchwork quilt that covered him. He groaned, stretched, rubbed his eyes and scratched his beard.

  He surveyed the room carefully; polished woodenfloors with handwoven rugs of blue and red and gray scattered about them, a dresser holding a white enamel basin with a few black spots up near its lip where some of the enamel had chipped away, a mirror on the wall behind him and above all that, a spindly looking rocker near the window, a print cushion on its seat, a small table aga
inst the other wall with a chair pushed in beneath it, books and paper and pen and ink on the table, a handstitched sampler on the wall asking God To Bless, a blue and green print of a waterfall on the other wall.

  He sat up, discovered he was naked, looked around for his clothing. It was nowhere in sight As he sat there, deciding whether or not to call out, the door opened, and Sam walked in. He carried Tanner's clothing, clean and neatly folded, over one arm. In his other hand he carried his boots, and they shone like wet midnight.

  "Heard you stirring around," he said. "How you feeling now?"

  "A lot better, thanks."

  "We've got a bath all drawn. Just have to dump in a couple buckets of hot, and it's all yours. I'll have the boys carry it in in a minute, and some soap and towels."

  Tanner bit his lip, but he didn't want to seem inhospitable to his benefactor, so he nodded and forced a smile then.

  "That'll be fine."

  "... And there's a razor and a scissors on the dresser •—whichever you might want."

  He nodded again- Sam set his clothes down on the rocker and his boots on the floor beside it, then left the room.

  Soon Roderick and Caliban brought in the tub, spread some sacks and set it upon them.

  "How you feeling?" one of them asked. (Tanner wasn't sure which was which. They both seemed graceful as scarecrows, and their mouths were packed full of white teeth.)

  "Real good," he said.

  "Bet you're hungry," said the other. "You slep* all afternoon yesterday and all night and most of this morning."

  "You know it," said Tanner. "How's my partner?"

  The nearer one shook his head. "Still sleeping andsickly," he said. "The doc should be here soon. Our kid brother went after him last night."

  They turned to leave, and the one who had been speaking added, "Soon as you get cleaned up, Ma'U fix you something to eat. Cal and me are going out now to try and get your rig loose. Dad'U tell you about the roads while you eat."

  "Thanks."

  "Good morning to you."