"DeChancie,.John.-.Skyway.02.-.Red.Limit.Freeway" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dechancie John)

Something occurred to me. "Where's Winnie?" I hadn't seen her in hours. I yelled for her.
We heard the sauna stall door open. Winnie came into the cab, rubbing her eyes scratching her furred tummy, and giving us all a grimace-smile. "Here! Winnie here!"
"This is Winnie" I said to Chapin, twisting around to him.
"Winnie, Carl."
"Hi Winnie."
"Hi!"
Chapin held out his hand and Winnie took it, her double thumbed grip enfolding it warmly.
"Where are you from, Winnie?" Chapin asked her.
"Winnie extended an arm aft making a far-off motion. "Way back!"
Everyone laughed. We had all come a long way.
Winnie sat in Darla's lap, but when she saw that Darla would have some difficulty bearing up under the weight, she jumped over to John's, hugging him. Winnie's compactness was deceptive; she had a good deal of bulk on her.
"You've met Carl, then?" John asked Darla.
"Yes we talked last night, But I didn't get much out of him" She smiled at Carl.
"Neither did I," Susan said, strapping in.
"I notice he made a point to meet the women," I commented.
"Don't mean to be so secretive," Carl said. But he left it at that. . .
"Here we go," I announced. I goosed the engine and eased the rig forward down the steep incline.
Traffic whizzed by, two roadsters hot-rodding through the curves, braying annoyance at the big lumbering rig in their way. A little farther down, the curves got easier to handle, and I got a chance to look at the scenery. The sky was dark with a thick covering of greenish purple clouds. Here and there, big winged creatures soared just above tree level alighting now and then on lofty branches. No other large lifeforms in sight.
It was all very pretty and very alien. The road bottomed out and went straight following a long tree-lined corridor. Between the massive black tree trunks, undergrowth grew thickly even in the dim light. And a few lines came to me

The woods were lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep . . .

If road yarns contained any truth, I had light-years to go.
For some unfathomable reason, I had become the protagonist of the wildest Skyway story yet. I knew only the outline of it; no one had related it in detail. It was the tale of a man, yours truly, who followed the Skyway clear out to the end. And came back. But in doing so, I returned paradoxically before I left.
There was more to it. I had come into possession of an alien artifact, the Roadmap, which delineated clearly and for all time the extent of the Skyway system and revealed a path leading to the lost civilization of the Roadbuilders and the secrets of their phenomenal technology.
And where did the Skyway lead, if followed out all the way to the "end"? --As if an 'interconnected road system could have such. It led, so the stories said, to the beginning of the universe. Not to the end, mind you, in either sense--not the physical limit of the universe, or its final destiny, but to the beginning.
When I heard that (from Jerry Spacks, an old friend and former member of the Starriggers Guild), I'd asked if there was a good, motel there.
The beginning of the universe.
Bang.
Pack your sunglasses. And bring plenty of suntan lotion. That primeval fireball can bum you right through your pretty new beach outfit.
As farfetched as it all was, I had every reason--now--to believe it. True, I had only Darla's word that she had met me before--a meeting I did not remember--but I also was now in possession of a very strange object, the nature of which was not clear even to Darla, who had given it to me. I had the Black Cube. That was all it was, a palm-sized cube, black as the devil's heart, origin and purpose unknown. It might be the Roadmap; or it might not be.
There was other evidence: Back on Goliath, I had made good my escape from the Colonial Militia with the very timely help of what could only have been my doppelganger, my paradoxical self. I was fairly sure of that. I had seen him . . . me. True, a, tiny wisp of doubt still clung to that image of my own face hovering above me as I lay in my cell, being administered the antidote to the effects of the Reticulan dream wand . . .
I sat up in my seat. Where did my double get the dream wand he had used to knock out everybody at the Militia station? I opened the glove box under the dash. There it was a shiny green shaft with a bright metal ring around one end.
Of course. That's how "he" got it. I have it now!
I closed the box. Jesus, it was spooky.
Maybe there was no doubt after all.
"Hooray!"
A sign beside the road.

6KM TO THE FRUMIOUS BANDERSNATCH!
EATS!
GET DRUNK! WE MAIL YOU HOME, KEEP YOUR KEY
ROOMS, NOT TOO SORDID
TURN OFF SKYWAY I KM
FOLLOW RT. 22 EAST

"Oh, God, a bed," Susan said dreamily.
"The sign's in English," John said. "Oh, here's the Intersystem one. Odd, it's not as friendly in 'System."