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Authors: Roger Zelazny
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of it."
"They're determined to see us off."
"Well, we'll give them a show then, lay down a little rubber. Might as well open the doors now, Monk."
"Thanks for the breakfast," said Greg.
"It's the least I could do."
"What happened to that guy?" Greg asked.
"Who?"
"Blinky. The one who had the accident."
"Oh. He's in the hospital. The cops took him in to get him patched up, and he had a heart attack there. They're giving him oxygen now. He was a small-town crook, record long as your arm. Not worth a damn. Can't say he's any loss."
"Too bad."
Monk shrugged. "That's what he gets for busting in and falling all over himself. So you're taking Forty, huh?"
Greg looked at Hell.
"That's right," Tanner said. "Who eats the Gila Monsters?"
"Huh?"
"We've got big snakes that the Gilas chorrfp up, along with a lot of other things, like bison and coyotes and God knows what all, and there's big bats that eat off the mutie fruit trees down Mexico way, and some freak spiders that feed on anything comes into their nets. But who eats the Gilas? A guy named Alex back home was telling me that since everything eats something else, then something had to have it in for the Gilas. I couldn't answer him, though. Do you know?"
"The butterflies," said Monk, "is what I've heard."
"Butterflies?"
"Yeah. You're lucky if you've never run into them. They're bigger than kites, and they settle down on the Gilas' necks and sting them half-dead. Then they lay their eggs. The caterpillars feed on the paralyzed lizards after they're hatched."
"I see."
"Then who eats the butterflies?" asked Greg.
"Damned if I know. Maybe the bats. That's a whole new world out there from what it was maybe a hundred years ago, and it's still changing fast. I doubt anybody knows what everything eats."
"Um-hm."
"I've got a hunch that anybody who goes looking will find that most of them will settle for humans in a pinch."
"Thanks," said Greg, "for everything. It's been nice knowing you, Monk."
"See you again." They shook hands.
"I doubt it," said Tanner. "I don't think I'll ever see you again. But thanks for the chow. Maybe you'll hear about us someday."
"Good luck. We're all pulling for you."
"You know what they call that," said Tanner, and he crossed the floor to their vehicle. He opened the door and climbed into the driver's seat. After a moment Greg entered from the other side.
"You didn't even shake his hand," he said.
"I don't hold with handshaking," said .Tanner. "Most citizens couldn't care less when they do it. You stick out an empty hand, it once meant you didn't have a knife in it, that's all, and if you're left-handed, they're screwed. And vice-versa. Now, I'm left-handed, so I can do it and get away with it, but I still don't hold with it worth a damn. If there was ever anybody was my friend, he wouldn't have to shake hands with me to prove it. He'd know it, and I'd know it. And you know how it is, too. You meet somebody, and suddenly you both know you're somehow alike. No blood. Nothing. And you're buddies. No need for all that protocol crap that went out with the old age. That's all."
They locked the doors, and Tanner started the engine. Re listened to its idling for a time, then switched on the View screens.
The big garage doors rattled open, and he beeped the horn once.
"Let's roll."
There was cheering as they rolled forth onto the street and sped away into the east.
"Could have used a beer," said Tanner. "Damn it!"
And they rushed along beside the remains of what had once been U.S. Route 40.
Tanner relinquished the driver's seat and stretched out on the passenger side of the cab. The sky continued to darken above them, taking upon it the appearance it had had in L.A. the day before.
"Maybe we can outrun it," Greg said.
"Hope so."
The blue pulse began in the north, flared into a brilliant aurora. The sky was almost black directly overhead.
"Run!" cried Tanner. "Run! Those are hills up ahead! Maybe we can find an overhang or a
"They're determined to see us off."
"Well, we'll give them a show then, lay down a little rubber. Might as well open the doors now, Monk."
"Thanks for the breakfast," said Greg.
"It's the least I could do."
"What happened to that guy?" Greg asked.
"Who?"
"Blinky. The one who had the accident."
"Oh. He's in the hospital. The cops took him in to get him patched up, and he had a heart attack there. They're giving him oxygen now. He was a small-town crook, record long as your arm. Not worth a damn. Can't say he's any loss."
"Too bad."
Monk shrugged. "That's what he gets for busting in and falling all over himself. So you're taking Forty, huh?"
Greg looked at Hell.
"That's right," Tanner said. "Who eats the Gila Monsters?"
"Huh?"
"We've got big snakes that the Gilas chorrfp up, along with a lot of other things, like bison and coyotes and God knows what all, and there's big bats that eat off the mutie fruit trees down Mexico way, and some freak spiders that feed on anything comes into their nets. But who eats the Gilas? A guy named Alex back home was telling me that since everything eats something else, then something had to have it in for the Gilas. I couldn't answer him, though. Do you know?"
"The butterflies," said Monk, "is what I've heard."
"Butterflies?"
"Yeah. You're lucky if you've never run into them. They're bigger than kites, and they settle down on the Gilas' necks and sting them half-dead. Then they lay their eggs. The caterpillars feed on the paralyzed lizards after they're hatched."
"I see."
"Then who eats the butterflies?" asked Greg.
"Damned if I know. Maybe the bats. That's a whole new world out there from what it was maybe a hundred years ago, and it's still changing fast. I doubt anybody knows what everything eats."
"Um-hm."
"I've got a hunch that anybody who goes looking will find that most of them will settle for humans in a pinch."
"Thanks," said Greg, "for everything. It's been nice knowing you, Monk."
"See you again." They shook hands.
"I doubt it," said Tanner. "I don't think I'll ever see you again. But thanks for the chow. Maybe you'll hear about us someday."
"Good luck. We're all pulling for you."
"You know what they call that," said Tanner, and he crossed the floor to their vehicle. He opened the door and climbed into the driver's seat. After a moment Greg entered from the other side.
"You didn't even shake his hand," he said.
"I don't hold with handshaking," said .Tanner. "Most citizens couldn't care less when they do it. You stick out an empty hand, it once meant you didn't have a knife in it, that's all, and if you're left-handed, they're screwed. And vice-versa. Now, I'm left-handed, so I can do it and get away with it, but I still don't hold with it worth a damn. If there was ever anybody was my friend, he wouldn't have to shake hands with me to prove it. He'd know it, and I'd know it. And you know how it is, too. You meet somebody, and suddenly you both know you're somehow alike. No blood. Nothing. And you're buddies. No need for all that protocol crap that went out with the old age. That's all."
They locked the doors, and Tanner started the engine. Re listened to its idling for a time, then switched on the View screens.
The big garage doors rattled open, and he beeped the horn once.
"Let's roll."
There was cheering as they rolled forth onto the street and sped away into the east.
"Could have used a beer," said Tanner. "Damn it!"
And they rushed along beside the remains of what had once been U.S. Route 40.
Tanner relinquished the driver's seat and stretched out on the passenger side of the cab. The sky continued to darken above them, taking upon it the appearance it had had in L.A. the day before.
"Maybe we can outrun it," Greg said.
"Hope so."
The blue pulse began in the north, flared into a brilliant aurora. The sky was almost black directly overhead.
"Run!" cried Tanner. "Run! Those are hills up ahead! Maybe we can find an overhang or a
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