Alan Dean Foster Into the Out Of

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not good land, but I am not a farmer or herder so I do not care. Soon we go
through Isinya. It is nothing, a cesspool. But Kajiado has a cafe and I may
stop there to get petrol. From there it is maybe another hour to Namanga and
the border. Maybe less. The laibon says you are in a hurry. Not to worry. Manu
and his bibio will get you there. He rapped the dash with an affectionate
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palm. Not too hard, either, Oak noted.
Ah, look there. He pointed to his left.
At that moment it all came home to Merry Sharrow. Until the driver gestured a
faint air of unreality had clung to her since they'd left Washington. The
sight of the two adult giraffes loping along the side of the highway wiped out
the last lingering wisps of disbelief. Instinctively, she looked for walls and
bars. But there were none here, just as there was no national park or game
preserve. Only the speeding matatu, the acacias, the empty brown plains, and
the two ambling giraffes like signposts from a vanished age.
In Swahili are called twiga, the driver informed them. Merry clapped her
hands together like a little girl, turning to watch as the giraffes fell
behind.
That's perfect.
I will tell you one better. Leopard is chui, pronounced in English chewy.
Even Oak had to smile at that.
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Olkeloki did not turn around, stared resolutely straight ahead. Language is a
frayed thread between peoples, but a fascinating one.
Oak wondered what held his attention so unswervingly. Looking at him sitting
there in the front seat across from their thoroughly urbanized driver, cloaked
in his bright blue toga and red blanket, his walking stick resting on his
right shoulder, it was difficult to believe he was the same man Oak had
rescued from a riot behind the White House. The same man who had spoken calmly
to them of impossible creatures and an unimaginable threat from beyond while
planning to convince them to accompany him back to Africa on the fastest form
of transportation yet devised by humanity. Now he looked like an illustration
from an anthropology text, a cardboard cutout from an African studies program
at Georgetown University suddenly come to life.
But he was real enough, was Mbatian Oldoinyo Olkeloki. Whatever he was. As
real as this rattletrap taxi cannonballing through the dry plains of East
Africa. As real as the pair of giraffes that had watched them speed past with
nary a glance up from their daily business of denuding acacias.
Look out, look out
! Merry lunged over the front seat and grabbed the wheel.
For five seconds all was chaos inside the cab. Oak barely had time to shout a
startled curse, Olkeloki stiffened perceptibly, and the driver screeched
something in frantic Swahili as he tried to regain control of his vehicle.
Moving at a speed somewhere between eighty miles an hour and that of light,
the aged taxi leaned hard on nonexistent shocks. Tires screamed and rubber
evaporated as it swerved into the fortunately empty opposite lane. They
squealed a second time as the driver fought wildly with the wheel for control.
They crossed back into the southbound lane, slid into the sandy shoulder and
threw up a dusty roostertail an unlimited hydroplane would've been proud of,
and finally straightened out back on the pavement. How the driver missed the
acacia tree growing just to the right side of the road Oak could never quite
figure out, but he was more than willing to accept the reprieve without an
explanation.
Somehow the rusty body held together along with all four of the nearly bald
tires. It was a miracle they didn't roll. The old Ford was no Land Rover and
Oak didn't doubt for a second that if they had rolled, all four of them would
have been crushed to death inside. Suddenly wide awake and stone cold sober,
the driver clung to the wheel like a limpet, alternating his gaze between the
road ahead and the mad ilmeet in the back seat.
Merry was on her knees, staring out the back window. Oak bit back his
instinctive response and waited.
Eventually she turned and resumed her seat, blinked as if suddenly aware that
she'd done something out of the ordinary.
I I'm sorry. There was some truck tire rubber in the road and I thought I saw
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one piece move. A big piece. There's no wind outside. Their driver heard this
and leaned forward until his chin was practically touching the wheel.
Oak put a hand on her shoulder. Are you sure you saw it move?
She didn't meet his gaze. I thought I did.
He eyed her a moment longer before glancing up at Olkeloki. What do you
think?
I do not know, Joshua Oak. I am so happy to be back in my own land that I
have not been paying as much attention as perhaps I should to our immediate
surroundings. As such it may be that she has saved
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us all.
By almost killing us, Oak mumbled.
Look, I said I was sorry, said Merry belligerently, but damnit, Josh, I
swear I saw the thing move. I
must have.
It's okay. Where these shetani are involved I'd rather react first and argue
about it later.
Shetani? The driver looked up at him.
Nothing. Oak offered him a placid smile. Just an old story. The mama[?]
was daydreaming, that's all.
Crazy muzungu, he growled softly.
For the remainder of the drive he didn't speak, just clung to the wheel and
stared straight ahead. The only casualty of Merry's action was the easy
camaraderie which had previously prevailed inside the matatu.
Oak wasn't sure what had happened. He hadn't seen anything move, but then he'd
been looking out a side window and not straight ahead. More troubling was the
fact that Olkeloki hadn't seen anything either. Up until now he'd only had the
old man's sanity to worry about. From now on it seemed he was going to have to
keep a close watch on Merry Sharrow as well. Not that he thought she was
unhinged.
Just maybe a little emotional.
We're all crazy here except me and thee, he thought silently, and I'm not so
sure about thee.
16
Gstaad, Switzerland 23 June
Alexis Bostoff was the fastest-rising star in the Soviet firmament. A full
member of the Politburo at the unheard-of age of thirty-four, he held the
important post of assistant minister of armaments. Because of his military [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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