The breeze seemed to have died down and I didn’t hear anything bad. The only sound was the calm, sleepy hum of the motor. It was very sunny and it was hot. There was a haze over the garage. Everything seemed all right, the pylons sailed past, one after the other, Tender was quiet, Kirill was quiet. The greenhorns were getting a little polish. Don’t worry, fellows, you can breathe in the Zone, too, if you know what you’re about. We got to Pylon 27; the metal sign had a red circle with the number 27 in it. Kirill looked at me, I nodded, and our boot stopped moving.
The blossoms had fallen off and it was the time for berries. Now the most important thing for us was total calm. There was no rush. The wind was gone, the visibility good. It was as smooth as silk. I could see the ditch where Slimy had kicked off. There was something colored in it—maybe his clothes. He was a lousy guy, God rest his soul. Greedy, stupid, and dirty. Just the type to get mixed up with Buzzard Burbridge. Buzzard sees them coming a mile away and gets his claws into them. In general, the Zone doesn’t ask who the good guys are and who the bad ones are. So thanks to you, Slimy. You were a damned fool, and no one remembers your real name, but at least you showed the smart people where not to step … Of course, our best bet would have been to get onto the asphalt. The asphalt is smooth and you can see what’s on it, and I know that crack well. I just didn’t like the looks of those two hillocks! A straight line to the asphalt led right between them. There they were, smirking and waiting. Nope, I won’t go between them. A stalker commandment states that there should be at least a hundred feet of clear space either on your left or your right. So, we can go over the left hillock. Of course, I didn’t know what was on the other side. There didn’t seem to be anything on the map, but who trusts maps?
“Listen, Red,” whispered Kirill, “why don’t we jump over? Twenty yards up and then straight down, and we’re right by the garage. Huh?”
“Shut up, you jerk,” I said. “Don’t bother me.”
He wants to go up. And what if something gets you at twenty yards? They’ll never find all your bones. Or maybe the mosquito mange would appear somewhere around here, then there wouldn’t even be a little damp spot left of you. I’ve had it up to here with these risk-takers. He can’t wait: let’s jump, he says. It was clear how to get to the hillock. And then we’d stay there for a bit and think about the next move. I pulled out a handful of nuts and bolts from my pocket. I held them in my palm and showed them to Kirill.
“Do you remember the story of Hansel and Gretel? Studied it in school? Well, we’re going to do it in reverse. Watch!” I threw the first nut. Not far, just like I wanted, about ten yards. The nut got there safely. “Did you see that?”
“So?” he said.
“Not ‘so.’ I asked if you saw it?”
“I saw it.”
“Now drive the boot at the lowest speed over to the nut and stop two feet away from it. Got it?”
“Got it. Are you looking for graviconcentrates?”
“I’m looking for what I should be looking for. Wait, I’ll throw another one. Watch where it goes and don’t take your eyes off it again.”
The second nut also went fine and landed next to the first one.
“Let’s go.”
He started the boot. His face was calm and clear. Obviously he understood. They’re all like that, the eggheads, the most important thing for them is to find a name for things. Until he had come up with a name, he was too pathetic to look at—a real idiot. But now that he had some label like graviconcentrate, he thought that he understood everything and life was a breeze.
We passed the first nut, and the second, and a third. Tender was sighing and shifting from foot to foot and yawning nervously—he was feeling trapped, poor fellow. It would do him good. He’d knock off ten pounds today, this was better than any diet. I threw a fourth nut. There was something wrong with its trajectory. I couldn’t explain what was wrong, but I sensed that it wasn’t right. I grabbed Kirill’s hand.
“Hold it,” I said. “Don’t move an inch.”
I picked up another one and threw it higher and further. There it was, the mosquito mange! The nut flew up normally and seemed to be dropping normally, but halfway down it was as if something pulled it to the side, and pulled it so hard that when it landed it disappeared into the clay.
“Did you see that?” I whispered.
“Only in the movies.” He was straining to see and I was afraid he’d fall out of the boot. “Throw another one, huh?”
It was funny and sad. One! As though one would be enough! Oh, science. So I threw eight more nuts and bolts until I knew the shape of this mange spot. To be honest, I could have gotten by with seven, but I threw one just for him smack into the middle, so that he could enjoy his concentrate. It crashed into the clay like it was a ten-pound weight instead of a bolt. It crashed and left a hole in the clay. He grunted with pleasure.
“OK,” I said, “we had our fun, now let’s go. Watch closely. I’m throwing out a pathfinder, don’t take your eyes off it.”
So we got around the mosquito mange spot and got up on the hillock. It was so small that it looked like a cat turd. I had never even noticed it before. We hovered over the hillock. The asphalt was less than twenty feet away. It was clear. I could see every blade of grass, every crack. It looked like a snap. Just throw the nut and be on with it.
I couldn’t throw the nut.
I didn’t understand what was happening to me, but I just couldn’t make up my mind to throw that nut.
“What’s the matter?” asked Kirill. “Why are we just standing here?”
“Wait,” I said. “Just shut up.”
I thought I’d toss the nut and then we’ll quietly move along, like coasting on melted butter, without disturbing a blade of grass. Thirty seconds and we’re on the asphalt. And suddenly I broke out in a sweat! My eyes were blinded by it. And I knew that I wouldn’t be throwing the nut there. To the left, as many as you want. The road was longer that way, and there was a bunch of pebbles that didn’t seem too cozy, but I was ready to throw in that direction. But not straight ahead. Not for anything. So I threw the nut to the left. Kirill said nothing, turned the boot, and drove up to the nut. Then he looked over at me. I must have looked pretty bad because he looked away immediately.
“It’s all right,” I said. “The path around is faster.” I tossed the last nut onto the asphalt.
It was a lot simpler after that. I found the crack, and it was still clean, not overgrown with any garbage, and unchanged in color. I just looked at it and rejoiced in silence. It led us to the garage door better than any pylons or signposts.
I ordered Kirill to descend to four feet. I lay flat on my belly and looked into the open doors. At first I couldn’t see anything because of the bright sunlight. Just blackness. Then my eyes grew accustomed and I saw that nothing seemed to have changed in the garage since the last time. The dump truck was still parked over the pit, in perfect shape, without any holes or spots. And everything was still the same on the cement floor—probably because there wasn’t too much witches’ jelly in the pit and it hadn’t splashed out since that time. There was only one thing that I didn’t like. In the very back of the garage, near the canisters, I could see something silvery. That hadn’t been there before. Well, all right, so there was something silvery, we couldn’t go back now just because of that! I mean it didn’t shine in any special way, just a little bit and in a calm, even a gentle way. I just got up, brushed myself off, and looked around. There were the trucks on the lot, just like new. Even newer than they had been the last time I was here. And the gasoline truck, the poor bastard was rusted through and ready to fall apart. There was the cover on the ground, just like on that map of theirs.