 |
 |
 |
 |
|
 |
 |
Then, holding the bangup hats by their straps, he forced them around the edge of the window
where the force of his speed jammed them against the side of the Chevy. Then he let go. And
studded up the window. And braked sharply.
The bulky bangup hats dropped away, hit the roadbed, rolled directly into the path of the
Merc. They disappeared underneath the blood-red car, and instantly the vehicle hit the Freeway.
George swerved out of the way, dropping speed quickly.
The Merc hit with a crash, bounced, hit again, bounced and hit, bounced and hit. As it went
past the Piranha, George saw Billy caroming off the insides of the car.
He watched the vehicle skid, wheelless, for a quarter of a mile down the Freeway before it
caught the inner breakwall of the lanedivider, shot high in the air, and came down turning over. It
landed on the bubble, which burst, and exploded in a flash of fire and smoke that rocked the Chevy.
At three hundred miles per hour, two inches above the Freeway, riding on air, anything that
broke up the air bubble would be a lethal weapon. He had won the duel. That Billy was dead.
George pulled in at the next getty, and sat in the lot. Jessica came around finally. He was
slumped over the wheel, shaking, unable to speak.
She looked over at him, then reached out a trembling hand to touch his shoulder. He jumped
at the infinitesimal pressure, felt through the g-and crash-suits. She started to speak, but the peek
queeped, and she studded it on.
“Sector Control, sir.” The Operator smiled.
He did not look up.
“Congratulations, sir. Despite one possible infraction, your duel has been logged as legal and
binding. You ‘II be pleased to know that the occupant of the car you challenged was rated number
one in the entire Central and Eastern Freeway circuit. Now that Mr. Bonney has been finalized, we
are entering your name on the dueling records. Underwriters have asked us to inform you that a
check will be in the mails to you within twenty-four hours.
“ Again, sir, congratulations. “
The peek went dead, and George tried to focus on the parking lot of the neon and silver
getty. It had been a terrible experience. He never wanted to use a car that way again. It had been
some other George, certainly not him.
“I’m a family man,” he repeated Jessica’s words. “And this is just a family car...I...”
She was smiling gently at him. Then they were in each other’s arms, and he was crying, and
she was saying that’s all right, George, you had to do it, it’s all right.
And the peek queeped.
She studded it on and the face of the Operator smiled back at her. “Congratulations, sir,
you’ll be pleased to know that Sector Control already has fifteen duel challenges for you.
“Mr. Ronnie Lee Hauptman of Dallas has asked for first challenge, and is, at this moment,
speeding toward you with an ET A of 6:15 this evening. In the event Mr. Hauptman does not
survive, you have waiting challenges from Mr. Fred Bull of Chatsworth, California...Mr. Leo
Fowler of Philadelphia...Mr. Emil Zalenko of...”
George did not hear the list. He was trying desperately, with clubbed fingers, to extricate
himself from the strangling folds of the g-and crash-suits. But he knew it was no good. He would
have to fight.
In the world of the Freeway, there was no place for a walking man.
The Author wishes to thank Mr. Ben Bova, formerly of Avco Everett Research Laboratory (Everett,
Massachusetts), for his assistance in preparing the extrapolative technical background of this story.
