Roadmarks by Roger Zelazny Read Free Book Online Page A

sharply to the right and off onto the shoulder, braking.
    "Stop cluttering my cab with spells!" Red ordered. "You're not from any main-branch C Twenty. What are you trying to pull?"
    The police cruiser cut past and came to a stop before them. It was a gray evening, and snow decked the trees in the forest to the right.
    "I repeat — ” Red said, but Frazier had already opened the door and was stepping down.
    "I don't know how you managed this — ” Frazier began.
    Red recognized the officer emerging from the police vehicle but did not know his name.
    “ — but you have just made a mistake." Frazier regarded the advancing policeman. "So did I, though, come to think of it . . . " he added.
    The cab's door slammed shut. The truck went into reverse, its tires grinding gravel. Its wheels cut to the left, its engine revved through a long pause while ghostly shapes streaked by. Then it shot onto the highway to flee through a pale day, a golden arch above it.
    "Flowers," Red said, "why did you override?"
    "A cost-benefit analysis of that situation put you in the red, Red. There's a better than sixty-percent chance I just saved your life."
    "But those were real cops."
    "Too bad for them, then."
    "He was that dangerous?"
    "Think about it."
    "I am, and I'm not sure what he was. Wonder where Chadwick got hold of him?"
    "He's not one of them. He's not part of the game, Red "
    "What makes you think that?"
    "He would have been briefed if he were. He didn't even know what I was. Is this Chadwick stupid, to send someone that unprepared?"
    "No. You're right. We've got to go back."
    "I wouldn't advise it."
    "This time I override. Take the next turnoff. Get back on the other side. Then swing around again. I have to know."
    "Why?"
    "Just do it."
    "You're the boss."
    The light began to pulse as the truck slowed, then it drew to the right and onto a ramp. Frowning, Red traced designs in the air and then on a pad.
    "Yes," he finally said as they headed back.
    "Yes, what?"
    "Life is getting interesting. Go faster."
    "Are you sure you want to find him again?"
    "He won't be there."
    "You're guessing."
    They headed down a ramp, through an underpass, and up again.
    "Just a few minutes more. There! Up ahead. The police car is still there. Are you certain we should stop?"
    "Do it!"
    They pulled off the Road, came to a halt behind the teardrop-shaped vehicle. Red climbed out, walked forward. As he advanced, he could smell burnt upholstery and burnt flesh. The right-hand door of the car was open and slightly twisted. The interior had been thoroughly burned out. The charred body of one man lay sprawled across the front seat, badge blackened, gun in hand. The other officer's remains lay on the ground near the front of the car. The tires had been melted, the rear of the vehicle torn open. Red paced the length of the car several times.
    Frazier's suitcase lay sprung on a mound of snowy leaves to his right, its contents strewn on the ground. Red's brow furrowed and he shook his head as he regarded the dildoes, contraceptives, and bondage and discipline devices it had contained. They began to smoke and steam, flow and melt, as he looked at them. He looked about for footprints, but nothing was clear.
    Returning to his pickup, he announced, "All right C Eleven. I'll take over at Twelve, though."
    "I could monitor from here. Some sort of bomb, I'd say. Any sign of where he went?"
    "No."
    "You're lucky."
    "Not quite."
    "What do you mean?"
    "Well, we let it get away."
    "I'd call that lucky."
    Red yanked his cap down over his eyes and folded his arms. His breathing deepened.
     

TWO
     
    Timyin Tin worked in the monastery garden, apologizing to the weeds as he removed them. A small man, whose shaven head made his age even more difficult to determine, he hoed with great enthusiasm, his movements sharp and supple. His gown hung loosely about him, occasionally disturbed by the cool wind from the snow-capped mountains. He seldom looked at the mountains. He knew them