Roadside Picnic

"Did you see anything strange in the garage. Just two words!"

"No comment!” I said, trying to keep the back of my head to the camera. “It's just a garage."

"Thank you. How do you feel about turboplatforms?"

"Most wonderful.” I started edging toward the John.

"What do you think about the Visitation?"

"Ask the scientists,” I said, and slid behind the bathroom door.

I could hear them scratching at the door. So I called out: “I heartily recommend that you ask Mr. Tender how his nose came to look like a beet. He's too modest to bring it up, but that was our most interesting adventure there."

They shot down the corridor. Faster than racehorses. I waited a minute. Silence. Stuck out my head. Nobody. And I went on my way, whistling a tune. I went down to the lobby, showed my pass to the bean-pole sergeant, and saw that he was saluting me. I guess I was the hero of the day.

"At ease, sergeant,” I said. “I'm pleased."

He showed so many teeth, you'd think I was flattering him beyond all reason.

"Well, Red, you sure are a hero. I'm proud to know you,” he said.

"So now you'll have something to tell the girls about back in Sweden?"

"You bet! They'll just melt in my arms!"

I guess he's right. To tell the truth, I don't like guys who are that tall and rosy-cheeked. Women go nuts over them, and I don't know why. Height is not the important thing. I was walking down the street and thinking along these lines. The sun was shining and there was no one around. And suddenly I wanted to see Guta right then and there. Just like that. To look at her and hold her hand a while. After the Zone that's about all you can manage—to hold hands. Especially when you think of those stories about what stalkers' children turn out like … Who needs Guta now? What I really needed was a bottle, at least a bottle, of the hard stuff.

I went past the parking lot. There was a checkpoint there. There were two patrol cars in all their glory—low-slung and yellow, armed with searchlights and machine guns, the toads. And of course, the cops had blue helmets, too. They were blocking the whole street. There was no way to get through. I kept walking with my eyes lowered, because it would be better for me not to see them right now. Not in daylight. There's two or three characters there that I'm afraid to recognize, because if I do, that'll be the end of them. It was a good thing for them that Kirill lured me into working for the institute. Otherwise, by God, I would have found the snakes and finished them off.

I shouldered my way through the crowd, I was almost past it when I heard someone shout “Hey, stalker!” Well, that had nothing to do with me, so I went on, rummaging for a cigarette in my pocket. Someone caught up with me and took me by the sleeve. I shook off the hand and half turned toward the man and said politely:

"What the hell do you think you're doing, mister?"

"Hold it, stalker,” he said. “Just two questions."

I looked up at him. It was Captain Quarterblad. An old friend. He was all dried up and kind of yellow.

"Ah, greetings, captain. How's the liver?"

"Don't try to talk your way out of this, stalker.” He was angry and his eyes bored into me. “You'd be better off telling me why you don't stop immediately when you're called."

And right behind him were two blue helmets, hands on holsters. You couldn't see their eyes, just their jaws working under the helmets. Where in Canada do they find these guys? Have they been sent out here to breed? In general I have no fear of the patrol guards in daytime, but they could search me, the toads, and I wasn't too crazy about the idea just then.

"Were you calling me, captain?” I said. “You were calling some stalker."

"Are you trying to tell me that you're not a stalker?"

"Once the time I spent thanks to you was over, I went straight. Quit stalking. Thanks to you, captain, my eyes were opened. If it hadn't been for you … "

"What were you doing in the Prezone Area?"

"What do you mean, what? I work there. Two years now.” To bring the unpleasant conversation to a close, I showed Captain Quarterblad my papers. He took my book and examined it page by page, sniffing and smelling every stamp and seal on it. He returned the book and I could see how pleased he was. His eyes lit up and there was color in his cheeks.