“Tell you all about it later. Are the children all right?” He tried to peer past her into the motor home as Frank pulled himself through the door.
“They’re fine. Confused, like the rest of us, but fine. They weren’t happy about leaving in such a hurry.”
“I am not happy about it, either. You brought all the luggage?”
“Naturally we brought all our luggage.”
He smiled, relieved. “That’s very good.” He followed Frank inside.
Alicia closed the door behind them. Frank stood fighting for breath, paused as Burnfingers strode past him and took up residence in the driver’s seat. He extended an open hand.
“Give me the keys, Frank.”
“No. No way.” He shook his head, exhausted by the long run. “I’ve gone along with you far enough. I risked my life to look for you.”
“I appreciate that. I will explain everything eventually, but we cannot hang around here. Those unpleasant people will find us. Give me the keys.”
Frank fumbled through his pockets, finally produced the handful of metal. He held them a foot from Burnfingers’s outstretched hand. “Why should I let you drive? A crazy man?”
“I am a good driver, Frank. On the reservation, every day is demolition-derby day. We count coup in pickups now instead of on pony back. Compared to that, highway driving is a snap.” He nodded toward the far window. “You better make up your mind quick.”
Frank joined his wife in staring through the glass. The three near-humans who’d been fighting with Begay were standing in the brightly lit main entrance of the hotel. Even at a distance Frank could tell they were searching intently.
“In moments they will locate us,” Burnfingers was saying. “Then they will shoot to disable our transportation. Hopefully they will not kill anyone in the process.” Frank handed him the keys. “Thank you.”
Burnfingers started the engine, raced it once, then pulled slowly out of the parking lot, heading for the main drag. Frank shifted his attention to the side window. As they pulled out into the street he thought he saw the three figures vanish into the lot.
Horns blared, whistles screeched, sirens wailed as the big motor home made room for itself amid the traffic. As they headed out of town and gained room to maneuver, Burnfingers accelerated, weaving around the remaining vehicles in front of them. Frank sat down next to him.
“Better slow up or you’ll wreck us.”
“No way, my friend.” He kept his eyes on the road ahead, grinning. “You’ve done most all the driving so far. Now it is my turn.”
Steven was whining because no one was listening to him. Wendy sat morosely off to one side, obviously frustrated by their precipitate departure. Alicia and Mouse were all the way in back, staring through the wide rear window.
“I think someone’s following us!” Alicia shouted, raising her voice so she would be heard up at the front. “There’s a big van or something back there and it’s weaving in and out of traffic just like we are.”
Burnfingers glanced at his sideview mirrors. “I see them. Don’t worry. We’ll lose them.”
“In this tank?” said Frank worriedly. “This ain’t no Corvette, you know.”
“Don’t worry.” Burnfingers winked at him. “I once had to lose two busloads of tourists in Monument Valley.” He continued to accelerate, recklessly disregarding the presence of the other cars on the road ahead. Frank moaned and closed his eyes, but they didn’t hit anybody. Burnfingers handled the motor home like a Jeep, until they’d left the last of the city traffic far behind.
“They’re still back there!” Alicia declared in a high voice. Her announcement was followed by a faint whooshing noise as something like a runaway skyrocket shot past overhead. It vanished into the night.
“Shooting at us,” Burnfingers announced imperturbably. “I thought they would hold off a while longer.” He swung the motor home hard left.
Frank stared forward. “Why’d you turn off?” The road ahead was two lanes, narrow but paved, like a snake’s tongue leading out into the desert. The main highway quickly fell behind. Dark mountains loomed against the night. “If they catch us out here they won’t have to worry about witnesses.”
“They won’t catch us.” Burnfingers spoke with assurance, staring straight ahead and holding on to the wheel with both hands. Occasionally he stole a glance at the rearview.
Another light flashed by, off to the right this time, fading into the darkness like fluorescent cola.
“If they’ve got a full tank they can just run us down.” Frank was peering at the mirror on the passenger’s side, barely able to make out the lights of the van pursuing them. “We’ll run out of gas out in the middle of nowhere!”
“I thought this road angled right about here.” Burnfingers was talking to himself, not Frank. “Ah.” His face broke into a wide smile.
Frank’s pupils became as big as grapes.
Everything they’d encountered so far—the incredible creatures, the impossible places—paled to insignificance alongside what happened next. Burnfingers shoved the accelerator to the floor and the motor home leaped forward. Steven stopped whining and raced to the nearest window, staring out.
“Oh, wow!”
“Steven! Steven, you come away from there!” Alicia hurried forward to put her arms around the boy. When she saw what he was looking at, her hands dropped slowly to her sides. Wendy had moved over to stand close to her mother, while Mouse stood behind them, saying nothing.
The road had become a pale, thin ribbon stretching across void. A soft pink light emanated from the pavement, a strip of cellophane trimmed with glowing fiber optics. Theirs was the only vehicle traveling the fairy road. Mountains, cacti, the barbed-wire fences that had lined both sides of the pavement: all had disappeared.
All that remained was the pure perfect night, and the myriad of stars overhead. Also to left and right. Also below.
They could clearly see radiant nebulae and supergiants, bright clusters and comets, through the semitransparent surface of the road.
10
A DIVIDING LINE still ran down the center of the highway. Further proof that two lanes remained was provided moments later when something like a runaway meteor came exploding toward them, only to scream past in the oncoming lane and vanish aft. Steven turned to follow its passage.
“Geez, what was that?”
Burnfingers was whistling softly to himself as he drove. A paralyzed Frank finally moved, straightening in his seat, accepting what he saw outside while fighting to avoid staring at it. There was no shoulder, no solid border to the narrow roadway. If Burnfingers lost control, there was nothing to prevent them from driving right off the pavement, to fall endlessly, forever, through the abyss that enclosed them on all sides.
