Roger Zelazny - Devil Car

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Roger Zelazny. Devil Car

Murdock sped across the Great Western Road Plain.

High above him the sun was a fiery yo-yo as he took the

innumerable hillocks and rises of the Plain at better than a

hundred-sixty miles an hour. He did not slow for anything, and

Jenny's hidden eyes spotted all the rocks and potholes before they

came to them, and she carefully adjusted their course, sometimes

without his even detecting the subtle movement of the steering column

beneath his hands.

Even through the dark-tinted windshield and the thick goggles he

wore, the glare from the fused Plain burnt into his eyes, so that at

times it seemed as if he were steering a very fast boat through night,

beneath a brilliant alien moon, and that he was cutting his way across

a lake of silver fire. Tall dust waves rose in his wake, hung in the

air, and after a time settled once more.

"You are wearing yourself out," said the radio, "sitting there

clutching the wheel that way, squinting ahead. Why don't you try to

get some rest? Let me fog the shields. Go to sleep and leave the

driving to me."

"No," he said, "I want it this way."

"All right," said Jenny. "I just thought I would ask."

"Thanks."

About a minute later the radio began playingit was a soft,

stringy sort of music.

"Cut that out!"

"Sorry, boss. Thought it might relax you."

"When I need relaxing, _I'll_ tell _you_."

"Check, Sam. Sorry."

The silence seemed oppressive after its brief interruption. She

was a good car, though, Murdock knew that. She was always concerned

with his welfare, and she was anxious to get on with his quest.

She was made to look like a carefree Swinger sedan: bright red,

gaudy, fast. But there were rockets under the bulges of her hood, and

two fifty-caliber muzzles lurked just out of sight in the recesses

beneath her headlamps; she wore a belt of five- and ten-second timed

grenades across her belly; and in her trunk was a spray-tank

containing a highly volatile naphthalic.

....for his Jenny was a specially designed deathcar, built for him

by the Archengineer of the Geeyem Dynasty, far to the East, and all

the cunning of that great artificer had gone into her construction.

"We'll find it this time, Jenny," he said, "and I didn't mean to snap

at you like I did."

"That's all right, Sam," said the delicate voice. "I am

programmed to understand you."

They roared on across the Great Plain and the sun fell away to the

west. All night and all day they had searched, and Murdock was tired.

The last Fuel Stop/Rest Stop Fortress seemed so long ago, so far

back...

Murdock leaned forward and his eyes closed.

The windows slowly darkened into complete opacity. The seat belt

crept higher and drew him back away from the wheel. Then the seat

gradually leaned backwards until he was reclining on a level plane.

The heater came on as the night approached, later.

The seat shook him awake, a little before five in the morning.

"Wake up, Sam! Wake up!"

"What is it?" he mumbled.

"I picked up a broadcast twenty minutes ago. There was a recent

car-raid out this way. I changed course immediately, and we are almost

there."

file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/Roger%20Zelazny%20-%20Devil%20Car.txt (1 of 9) [10/16/2004 5:00:57 PM]

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Roger Zelazny - Devil Car

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