To The Stars

The nose radar bleeped a warning as they rounded a turn. Jan flipped off the automatics. Something big was on the Road — but not big enough to slow the engine. The creature reared up to do battle as they hurtled toward it and Alzbeta gasped. A quick vision of a dark green body, bottle green, too many legs, claws, long teeth — and then the engine hit it.

There was a thud as they struck, then a jarring as they crushed the body beneath the wheels, then nothing. Jan flipped the autopilot back on.

“We have at least eighteen more hours of this,” he said. “We can’t afford to stop. For any reason.”

Less than three hours had gone by before the alarms came in. It was train eight again, someone shouting so loud the words were unclear.

“Repeat,” Jan said, shouting himself above the other’s hoarse voice. “Repeat, slow down, we cannot understand you.”

“… bit them… unconscious now, all swollen, we’re stopping, get the doctor from number fourteen.”

“You will not stop. That is an order. Next stop in the islands.”

“We must, the children…”

“I will personally put any driver off the train if he stops along this Road. What happened to the children?”

“Some sort of bugs bit them, big; we killed them.”

“How did they get into the car?”

“The window…”

“I gave orders—” Jan clutched the wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. He took a deep breath before he spoke again. “Open circuit. All car commanders. Check at once for open windows. All of them must be closed. Train eight. There is anti-venom in every car. Administer it at once”

“We did, but it doesn’t seem to be working with the children. We need the doctor.”

“You’re not getting him. We’re not stopping. He can’t do anything other than administer the anti-venom. Hook through to him now and describe the symptoms. He’ll give you what advice he can. But we’re not stopping.”

Jan turned off the radio. “We can’t stop,” he said to himself. “Don’t they understand? We just can’t stop.”

After dark there was more life on the Road, creatures that stood dazzled by the lights until they vanished under the wide wheels, things that appeared suddenly out of the darkness and were crushed against the windshield. The trains kept moving. It wasn’t until dawn that they came to the mountains and the tunnel, diving into its dark mouth as into a refuge. The Road climbed as it penetrated the harrier and when they emerged they were on a high and barren plateau, a rocky plain made by leveling a mountain top. On both sides of the Road the tanks were pulled up, the exhausted drivers sleeping. Jan slowed the trains until the last one had emerged from the tunnel, then signaled the stop. When the brakes were set and the engines off the radio hummed to life.

“This is train eight. We would like the doctor now.” There was a cold bitterness in the voice. “We have seven ill. And three children dead.”

Jan looked out at the dawn so he would not have to see Alzbeta’s face.

Ten

The two of them were eating together at the folding table in the rear of the engine. The Road was straight and flat, and Otakar was alone at the wheel. When they talked quietly he could not hear them. Ryzo was below with Emo; the occasional cry and slap of cards indicated what they were doing. Jan had no appetite but he ate because he knew he had to. Alzbeta ate slowly, as though she wasn’t aware of what she was doing.

“I had to,” Jan said, his voice almost a whisper. She did not answer. “Don’t you understand that? You haven’t said a word to me since. Two days now.” She looked down at her plate. “You’ll answer me or you’ll go back to your family car with the others.”

“I don’t want to talk to you. You killed them.”

“I knew it was that. I did not — they killed themselves.”

“Just children.”

“Stupid children, now dead ones. Why weren’t their parents watching them? Where was the supervision? The families here must breed for stupidity. Everyone knows what kind of animal life there is in that jungle. We never stop there. What could the doctor have done?”

“We don’t know.”

“We do know. The children would have died in any case, and perhaps the doctor and others as well. Don’t you understand I had no choice? I had to think of all of the others.”

Alzbeta looked down at her clasped hands, her fingers wrung tightly together. “It just seems so very wrong.

“I know it does — and it was not easy to do. Do you think I have slept since they died? It’s on my conscience if that makes you feel any better. But how would I have felt if I had stopped and there were more casualties? The children would have died in any case before the doctor reached them. Stopping would only have made matters worse.

“Perhaps you’re right; I’m not sure anymore.”

“And perhaps I was wrong. But right or wrong I had to do what I did. There was no choice.”