Read Online Roadmarks by Roger Zelazny - Free Book Online Page A

the route he had taken in this C Eleven Africa. Turning into the parking area, he drew up beside a streamlined pearl-gray ground-effect vehicle.
    "That one's from pretty far up the line," he observed. "Wonder whose it is?"
    He removed Flowers from her compartment, took a rifle down from the rack behind him and opened the door. Stepping out, he groped beneath the seat and located a knife in a leather sheath. He fastened it to his belt and locked the cab. Raising a backpack from the bed of the truck, he opened and inspected it.
    "Everything I need but water," he announced, "and maybe a paperback. I want to go inside anyhow, to tell them I'll be parked here for a while."
    "It's kind of late in the day, and you've done a lot of driving. Maybe you ought to lay over and start in the morning."
    He looked at the sky.
    "I could still get in a few good hours of legwork."
    " . . . And then go to all the trouble of making camp, to spend an extra night on the trail. Is it going to make that much difference?"
    "I don't know."
    " . . . You could probably use a good meal too."
    "On that you're right," he said, shouldering the rifle and hefting the pack, to which he had added Flowers "We'll go see what's on the menu and find out what sort of accommodations they have. If neither one is very good I might as well be on the trail, though."
    He moved off in the direction of the main building. The proprietor, an elderly man with a French accent, and his wife — young, heavy, native — sat in wicker chairs in the reception area, beneath a large fan. He smiled, put down a book and a drink, and rose as Red entered.
    "Hello. May I serve you?
    "Hi. I'm Red Dorakeen. I was wondering what may be available for dinner."
    "Peter Laval. And this is Betty. A stew — native meats, carefuly seasoned. Beer made here, or wine brought in, to go with it. You may inspect the kitchen, sniff the pot, if you choose."
    "Not necessary. I'm getting a whiff here. Smells good. What are the rooms like?"
    "Come take a look. Right around the corner."
    Red followed him down a short hall and into a small, clean room.
    "Not bad. I'll take it," he said, lowering his pack to the floor after removing and pocketing Flowers and placing the rifle on the bed. He tossed his jacket down beside it.
    " . . . And I wouldn't mind some of that beer now."
    "This way. I'll get you a key too, if you want one."
    Red followed him back into the hall, closing the door behind him.
    "Might as well. Many other guests?"
    "No, just yourself today. Things are slow — as usual."
    "That fancy car out there yours?"
    "No, mine is in back, and much less pretentious."
    "Whose is it, then?" Red asked as they approached a desk where he signed a guest book and received a key.
    "Ah! You are reading Baudelaire! One of my favorites. There was a man who saw through pretensions, everything! 'Combla-t-il sur ta chair inerte et complaisante l'immensité de son désir?' "
    " ' . . . Réponds, cadavre impur!' " Red said, nodding, following the other into a small taproom, where a stein was drawn for him. "Whose car is it?"
    Laval chuckled, leading him out onto the veranda and gesturing toward the mountains.
    "A most unusual fellow," he said. "Hiked off in that direction last week. Big, skinny, with eyes like Rasputin . . .  Hands such as Modigliani might have painted somewhere or other. And every stitch on him, down to his bootlaces, was green. Even had on a big emerald ring. Didn't say where he was going or why. Said his name was John, that's all."
    Flowers emitted a small squeak. Red thumbed the piezoelectric acknowledgment point.
    " . . . And to tell the truth, I was glad to see him go. He didn't do anything threatening or even uncivil. But he made me uncomfortable just being here."
    Red sipped his beer.
    "I've left my drink inside. Would you care to join us in the lobby? It's a little cooler there."
    Red shook his head.
    "I'm enjoying the view from here. Thanks anyway."
    Laval shrugged and withdrew. Red raised