Could this be Earth, Seward wondered. Earth in the future -. or possibly an Earth of a different space-time continuum. That was the likeliest explanation for this unlikely world. The contrast between recognizable, everyday things and the grotesqueries of the fortress was strange-yet it could be explained easily if these people had contact with his world. That would explain how they had things like cars and fuel stations and no apparent organization necessary for producing them. Somehow, perhaps, they just stole them? He followed Farlowe into the long, building. He could see through the wide windows.that it was some kind of restaurant.
There was a long, clean counter and a few people seated at tables at the far end. All had their backs to him.
He and Farlowe sat down on stools. Close to them was the largest pin-table Seward had ever seen. Its lights were flashing and its balls were clattering, though there was no one operating it. The coloured lights flashed series of numbers at him until his eyes lost focus and he had to turn away.
A woman was standing behind the counter now. Most of her face was covered by a yashmak.
'What do you want to eat, son?' said Farlowe, turning to him.
'Oh, anything.'
Farlowe ordered sandwiches and coffee. When the woman had gone to get their order, Seward whispered: 'Why's she wearing that thing?'
Farlowe pointed at a sign Seward hadn't noticed before. It read THE HAREM HAVEN. ' It's their gimmick,' said Farlowe.
Seward looked back at the pin-table. The lights had stopped: flashing, the balls had stopped clattering. But above it suddenlyappeared a huge pair of disembodied eyes. He gasped.
Distantly, he heard his name being repeated over and over again.' Seward. Seward. Seward. Seward… '
He couldn't tell where the voice was coining from. He glanced up at the ceiling. Not from there. The voice stopped. He looked back at the pin-table. The eyes had vanished. His panic returned. He got off his stool.
'I'll wait for you in the car, Farlowe.'
Farlowe looked surprised. ' What's the matter, son?'
Nothing- it's okay - I'll wait in the car.'
Farlowe shrugged.
Seward went out into the night. The attendant had gone but the car was waiting for him. He opened the door and climbed in.
What did the eyes mean? Were the people from the fortress following him in some way. Suddenly an explanation for most of the questions bothering him sprang into his mind. Of course -telepathy. They were probably telepaths. That was how they knew so much about him. That could be how they knew of his world and could influence events there - they might never go there in person. This comforted him a little, though he realized that getting out of this situation was going to be even more difficult than he'd thought.
He looked through the windows and saw Farlowe's big body perched on its stool. The other people in the cafe were still sitting with their backs to him. He realized that there was something familiar about them.
He saw Farlowe get up and walk towards the door. He came out and got into the car, slamming the door after him. He leaned back in his seat and handed Seward a sandwich, ' You seem worked up, son,' he said. 'You'd better eat this.'
Seward took the sandwich. He was staring at the backs of the other customers again. He frowned.
Farlowe started the car and they moved towards the road.
Then Seward realized who the men reminded him of. He craned his head back in the hope of seeing their faces, but it was too late. They had reminded him of his dead assistants - the men who'd committed suicide.
They roared through dimly-seen towns-all towers and angles.
There seemed to be nobody about. Dawn came up and they still sped on. Seward realized that Farlowe must have a tremendous vitality, for he didn't seem to tire at all. Also, perhaps, he was motivated by a desire to get as far away from the fortress as possible.
They stopped twice TO re-fuel and Farlowe bought more sandwiches and coffee which they had as they drove.
In the late afternoon Farlowe said: 'Almost there.'
They passed through a pleasant village. It was somehow alien, although very similar to a small English village. It had an oddly foreign look which was hard to place. Farlowe pulled in at what seemed to be the gates of a large public park. He looked up at the sun. 'Just made it,' he said. 'Wait in the park-someone will come to collect you.'
'You're leaving me?" 'Yes. I don't think they know where you are. They'll look but, with luck, they won't look around here. Out you get, son.
Into the park;'
'Who do I wait for?'
'You'll know her when she comes.'
'Her?' He got out and closed the door. He stood on the pavement watching as, with a cheerful wave, Farlowe drove off.
He felt a tremendous sense of loss then, as if his only hope had been taken away.
Gloomily, he turned and walked through the park gates.
AS HE WALKED between low hedges along a gravel path, he realized that this park, like so many things in this world, contrasted with the village it served. It was completely familiar just like a park on his own world.
It was like a grey, hazy winter's afternoon, with the brittle, interwoven skeletons of trees black and sharp against the cold sky. Birds perched on trees and bushes, or flew noisily into the silent air.
Evergreens crowded upon the leaf-strewn grass. Cry of sparrows. Peacocks, necks craned forward, dived towards scattered bread. Silver birch, larch, elm, monkey-puzzle trees, and swaying white ferns, each one like an ostrich feather stuck in the earth. A huge, ancient, nameless trunk from which, at the top, grew an expanse of soft, yellow fungus; the trunk itself looking like a Gothic cliff, full of caves and dark windows. A grey and brown pigeon perched motionless on the slender branches of a young birch. Peacock chicks the size of hens pecked with concentration at the grass.
Mellow, nostalgic smell of winter; distant sounds of children playing; lost black dog looking for master; red disc of sun in the cool, darkening sky. The light was sharp and yet soft, peaceful. A path led into the distance towards a flight of wide stone steps, at the top of which was the curving entrance to an arbour, browns, blacks and yellows of sapless branches and fading leaves.
From the arbour a girl appeared and began to descend the steps with quick, graceful movements. She stopped when she reached the path. She looked at him. She had long, blonde hair and wore a white dress with a full skirt. She was about seventeen.
The peace of the park was suddenly interrupted by children rushing from nowhere towards the peacocks, laughing and shouting. Some of the boys saw the tree trunk and made for it.
Others stood looking upwards at the sun as it sank in the cold air. They seemed not to see either Seward or the girl. Seward looked at her. Did he recognize her? It wasn't possible. Yet she, too, gave him a look of recognition, smiled shyly at him and ran towards him. She reached him, stood on tiptoe and gave him a light kiss on the cheek.
'Hello, Lee.'
'Hello. Have you come to find me?'
'I've been looking for you a long time.'
'Farlowe sent a message ahead?'
She took his hand. ' Come on. Where have you been, Lee?'
This was a question he couldn't answer. He let her lead him back up the steps, through the arbour. Between the branches he glanced a garden and a pool. 'Come on,' she said. 'Let's. see what's for dinner. Mother's looking forward to meeting you.'