Through the mountain range and into the eternal blasting heat of the tropical sun. They made better time than they had on the outward trip, for the Road was clear and they were lightly loaded. The tank crews stayed far ahead and the only difficulty was crossing the drowned section of Road. The empty cars had a tendency to float and had to be brought over one by one with an engine at each end. The only ones who did not mind the delay were Jan and Alzbeta, who were forbidden to help in the operation and were ordered to remain inside their car. It was the only wedding present that the hardworking men could give them and was appreciated all the more.
Once the water was passed the Road was clear again — though never empty of danger. The never-setting sun now had a brassy color to it and there was an ominous haze in the air.
“What is it?” Alzbeta asked. “What is wrong?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like it,” Jan said.
They were driving again, driver and co-driver of one of the engines. This way they were together all of the time, work periods and sleep periods. They did not mind; in fact they reveled in the pleasure of their companionship. To Alzbeta it was the final satisfaction of her existence as a woman. For Jan, the end of loneliness. But this was not a world to allow unlimited peace and happiness.
“Dust,” Jan said, squinting out at the sky. “And I can think of only one place it could come from. I think, but I can’t be sure.
“Where?”
“Volcanic action. When volcanoes erupt they hurl dust high into the atmosphere where the winds bring it right around the planet. I only hope this eruption was nowhere near the Road.”
It was closer than they liked. Within twenty hours the tanks sent back word of an active volcano on the horizon. The jungle here was burnt and dead, while the Road was thick with great chunks of scoria and heavy with dust. They were working to clear a way through. The trains soon caught up with them.
“It’s… horrible,” Alzbeta said, looking out on the blackened landscape and the drifting clouds of smoke and dust.
“If this is the worst we hit, we are all right,” Jan told
They crawled at minimum speed when they passed the volcano, for the Road could not be kept completely clear, and they crept through the constantly falling debris. The volcano was no more than ten kilometers from the Road, still active, wreathed in clouds of smoke and steam which were lit by red flashes and gouts of lava.
“In a way I’m a little surprised that we have not had this kind of trouble before,” Jan said. “It must have taken an awful lot of artificial earthquakes to build the Road. That’s a matter of record. And the energy it takes to start an eruption is only the tiniest part of the energy that is released. The builders knew their business and did not leave until the seismic processes were reduced. But there can be no guarantee that they are all ended. As we can see out there.” He looked out gloomily at the volcano, now dropping behind them.
“But it’s over,” she said. “We’re through.”
Jan did not want to erase her happy smile by reminding her that there would have to be a return trip. Better the happiness of the hour.
Then they came to the scorched farmlands and the immense silos baking under the relentless sun. Loading the corn began, a slow process because of the limited number of coldsuits. Nevertheless the work was continuous, one man taking over when the other ended his shift, putting a newly-charged powerpack into the coldsuit, careful not to touch the burning metal of the external fittings. Out into the heat to swing the discharge hose over the opening in a car roof, to fill it to overflowing. The car was moved on, the hole sealed, another appeared below. The Road was knee-deep in corn for they made no attempt to be careful; speed was more important than neatness. More corn would be left to burn than they could carry away. When the last train was being filled, Jan consulted with Semenov.
“I’m taking the tanks out now. But I’m worried about the section of Road that passes the volcano.”
“You’ll clear it easily enough.”
“I’m not concerned about that. The volcanic activity seems to have died down. But we did have that big quake some days ago. If we could feel it here, how must it be that much closer? The Road itself may be damaged. I want a good lead time.”
Semenov nodded reluctant agreement. “I just hope that you are wrong.
“So do I. I’ll report back as soon as I get there.”
They ran at top speed and made the journey without a stop. Jan was asleep when they came to the volcanic area, and Otakar, who was co-driving the lead tank with him, came down to shake him awake.
“Big drifts across the road, but otherwise it doesn’t look bad.”
“I’ll come right up.”
They left the other tanks with dozer blades to clear the Road, then ground ahead over the mountainous drifts. The air was clear and the volcano itself soon came into sight, silent at last, with just a plume of smoke drifting from its conical summit.
That’s a relief,” Otakar said.
“I couldn’t agree more.”
They went on until the tank was stopped by an immense drift of dust and rock that completely blocked the Road. All they could do was back to one side and wait for the tanks with blades. They caught up quickly because all they were doing on the first pass was making a cut big enough to let them through. They would return and widen it for the trains.
The driver of the dozer tank waved as he tackled the mountainous mass, and was soon out of sight behind it. “It’s getting shallow again,” he reported by radio. “Not deep at all on this side…” His voice ended in a gasp.
“What is it?” Jan asked. “Come in. Can you hear me?”
“Better see for yourself,” the driver reported. “But come through slowly.”
Jan ground his tank forward through the gap, saw the tread marks of the other tank, saw that it had backed to one side so he could see the Road ahead.
It was clear now why the driver had gasped. There was no Road ahead. It ended at the brink of a fissure, a small valley that must have been a kilometer wide at least.
The ground had opened up and swallowed the Road, leaving an unspannable chasm in its place.
Sixteen
“It’s gone — the Road’s gone,” Otakar said, gasping out the words.
“Nonsense!” Jan was angry. He was not going to be stopped. “This fissure can’t go on forever. We’ll follow it away from the volcano, away from the area of seismic activity.”
“I only hope that you’re right.”
“Well we don’t have much choice, do we?” There was no warmth at all in the smile that went with the words.
It was slow and dangerous work once they were away from the hard surface of the Road. The burnt jungle was a barrier of stumps, with ash and dust filled pits between that could trap a tank. They were caught this way time and again, one tank after another. Each time it happened a weary driver would go out in a coldsuit to attach cables to drag the trapped vehicle clear. The dust and ash clung to their suits and was carried back into the tanks, until everything was coated and filthy. After relentless hours of labor the men were close to exhaustion. Jan realized this and called a halt.
“We’ll take a break. Clean up a bit, get something to eat and drink.”
“I have a feeling I’ll never be clean again,” Otakar said, grimacing as the grit in the food ground between his teeth. The radio light signaled for attention and Jan flicked it on.
“Semenov here. How is it coming?”
“Slowly. I’m taking a wide swing in the hope we will be able to bypass the fissure. I don’t want to have to make a second cut. Is the loading done?”