ONE
"Red, that doctor we met back at the repair shop
—
I'm a little concerned about what he
—
Hey! Come on! You're not going to stop for a hitchhiker when people are shooting at you!"
"The new speaker is a little strident."
He drew off to the side. Suddenly it was raining. The small man with the wild hair and the black suitcase grinned and opened the door.
"How far are you going?" came a high-pitched voice.
"About five Cs."
"Well, that's something, anyway. Nice to get out of the rain."
He climbed in and slammed the door, balancing the suitcase on his knees.
"How far are you headed?" Red asked, drawing back onto the highway.
"Periclean Athens. Jimmy Frazier's the name."
"Red Dorakeen. You've a long haul ahead. How's your Greek?"
"Been studying it for two years. Always wanted to make this trip.
—
I've heard of you."
"Good or bad?"
"Both. And in between. You used to run arms till they cracked down, didn't you?"
Red turned and met the dark eyes which were studying him.
"It's been said."
"Didn't mean to pry."
Red shrugged. "No secret, I guess."
"You've been in a lot of interesting places, I suppose?"
"Some."
"And some strange ones?"
"A few of those, too."
Frazier combed his hair with his fingers, patted it into place, leaned over to glance at himself in the rearvdew mirror, sighed.
"I haven't run the Road that much myself. Mainly between Cleveland in the 1950s and Cleveland in the 1980s."
"What do you do?"
"Tend bar, mostly. Also, I buy stuff in the fifties and sell it in the eighties."
"Makes sense."
"Makes money too
—
You ever have trouble with hijackers?"
"None to speak of."
"You must have some really fancy armaments on this thing."
"Nothing special."
"I'd think you'd need them."
"Shows how wrong you can be."
"What do you do if you're suddenly up against it?"
Red relit his cigar. "Maybe die," he replied.
Frazier chuckled. "No. Really," he said.
Red extended his right arm along the back of the seat.
"Look, if you are a hijacker, you've caught me between loads."
"Me? I'm no hijacker."
"Then stop asking these damn theoretical questions. How the hell should I know what I'd do in some hypothetical situation? I'd respond to circumstances, that's all."
"Sorry. I got carried away. It's a romantic life you lead. Where are you from, originally?"
"I don't know."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that I can't find my way back. Once it was on the main drag, I think, then it became a byroad probably, then it just disappeared into the misty places which are no longer history. I guess I just waited too long to begin looking. Got occupied. It's not even legend anymore."
"What's it called?"
"Do you smell something burning?"
"Just your cigar."
"My cigar! Where the hell is it?"
"I don't
—
Here. It seems to have fallen down the seat behind me."
"You get burned?"
"Burned? Oh, I don't think so. Maybe my jacket, a little."
Red accepted the return of his cigar, glanced at the other's back. "You're lucky then. Sorry."
"You were saying? . . . "
"Red!" Flowers broke in. "There's a police cruiser headed this way."
Frazier started.
"What is that?" he said.
"You should be able to spot it in a minute."
Red regarded the mirror.
"Why don't they go find an accident?" he mused. He glanced at Frazier. "Unless this is some sort of setup."
"What form of magic?
—
”
" . . . Should be coming into view about now."
"Red! Where's that voice coming from?"
"Don't bother me! Damn it!"
"Demons are very untrustworthy!" Frazier said, and he began tracing designs in the air. Fiery shapes flowed from his fingertips and hung before him.
"Red! What's he up to?" Flowers asked. "My optical scanners show
—
”
Red cut sharply to the right and off onto the shoulder, braking.
"Stop cluttering my cab with spells!" Red ordered. "You're not from any main-branch C Twenty. What are you trying to pull?"
The police cruiser cut past and came to a stop before them. It was a gray evening, and snow decked the trees in the forest to the right.
"I repeat
—
” Red said, but Frazier had already opened the door and was stepping down.
"I don't know how you managed this
—
” Frazier began.
Red recognized the officer emerging from the police vehicle but did not know his name.
“
—
but you have just made a mistake." Frazier regarded the advancing policeman. "So did I, though, come to think of it . . . " he added.
The cab's door slammed shut. The truck went into reverse, its tires grinding gravel. Its wheels cut to the left, its engine revved through a long pause while ghostly shapes streaked by. Then it shot onto the highway to flee through a pale day, a golden arch above it.
"Flowers," Red said, "why did you override?"
"A cost-benefit analysis of that situation put you in the red, Red. There's a better than sixty-percent chance I just saved your life."
"But those were real cops."
"Too bad for them, then."
"He was that dangerous?"
"Think about it."
"I am, and I'm not sure what he was. Wonder where Chadwick got hold of him?"
"He's not one of them. He's not part of the game, Red "
"What makes you think that?"
"He would have been briefed if he were. He didn't even know what I was. Is this Chadwick stupid, to send someone that unprepared?"
"No. You're right. We've got to go back."
"I wouldn't advise it."
"This time I override. Take the next turnoff. Get back on the other side. Then swing around again. I have to know."
"Why?"
"Just do it."
"You're the boss."
The light began to pulse as the truck slowed, then it drew to the right and onto a ramp. Frowning, Red traced designs in the air and then on a pad.
"Yes," he finally said as they headed back.
"Yes, what?"
"Life is getting interesting. Go faster."
"Are you sure you want to find him again?"
"He won't be there."
"You're guessing."
They headed down a ramp, through an underpass, and up again.
"Just a few minutes more. There! Up ahead. The police car is still there. Are you certain we should stop?"
"Do it!"
They pulled off the Road, came to a halt behind the teardrop-shaped vehicle. Red climbed out, walked forward. As he advanced, he could smell burnt upholstery and burnt flesh. The right-hand door of the car was open and slightly twisted. The interior had been thoroughly burned out. The charred body of one man lay sprawled across the front seat, badge blackened, gun in hand. The other officer's remains lay on the ground near the front of the car. The tires had been melted, the rear of the vehicle torn open. Red paced the length of the car several times.
Frazier's suitcase lay sprung on a mound of snowy leaves to his right, its contents strewn on the ground. Red's brow furrowed and he shook his head as he regarded the dildoes, contraceptives, and bondage and discipline devices it had contained. They began to smoke and steam, flow and melt, as he looked at them. He looked about for footprints, but nothing was clear.
Returning to his pickup, he announced, "All right C Eleven. I'll take over at Twelve, though."
"I could monitor from here. Some sort of bomb, I'd say. Any sign of where he went?"
"No."
"You're lucky."
"Not quite."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, we let it get away."
"I'd call that lucky."
Red yanked his cap down over his eyes and folded his arms. His breathing deepened.
TWO
Timyin Tin worked in the monastery garden, apologizing to the weeds as he removed them. A small man, whose shaven head made his age even more difficult to determine, he hoed with great enthusiasm, his movements sharp and supple. His gown hung loosely about him, occasionally disturbed by the cool wind from the snow-capped mountains. He seldom looked at the mountains. He knew them too well. He was instantly alert to the approach of a fellow monk, however, though he gave no sign of this awareness until the other came to a halt at the head of the row he was working.
"You are wanted within," said the other.
Timyin Tin nodded.
"Good-bye, my friends," he said to the plants, and he went to clean his tools and place them in the shed.
"The garden grows well," the other said.
"Yes."
"I believe this summons involves the visitors."
"Oh? I heard the gong earlier, announcing the arrival of travelers, but I did not see who had come."
"Their names are Sundoc and Toba. Do you know them?"
"No."
The two men passed toward the main building, pausing briefly before a statue of the Buddha. They entered and moved along a hall to a cell near its end. The second man entered there with proper observances and addressed the small, shriveled man who was the head of the monastery.
"He is here, worthy one."
"Then bid him enter."
He returned to the doorway, barely glancing at the two strangers who sat on mats across from the master, drinking tea.
"You may come in," he said, withdrawing himself as Timyin Tin entered the cell.
"You sent for me, honored sir," he said.
The master regarded him for several moments before speaking.
"These gentlemen wish you to accompany them on a journey," he finally said.
"Myself, esteemed one? There are many who know the area far better."
"Of this I am aware, but it seems they want more than a guide. I will leave it to them to make matters clear to you."
With this, the master rose to his feet, carrying with him a saddlebag that clinked and rattled, and departed the cell.
Both strangers stood as Timyin Tin regarded them.
"My name is Toba," said the dark-skinned one with the beard. He was heavily built and stood perhaps a head taller than Timyin Tin. "My companion is called Sundoc." He indicated the very tall, copper-haired man, whose skin was pale, whose eyes were blue. "His fourteenth-century Chinese of this district is not as good as my own, so I will speak for both of us. Who are you, Timyin Tin?"
"I do not understand," the monk replied. "I am he whom you see before you."
Toba laughed. A moment later, Sundoc laughed also.
"Forgive us," Toba said then. "But what were you before you came to this place? Where did you live? What did you do?"
The monk spread his hands.
"I do not remember."
"You work in the gardens here. Do you like that?"
"Yes. Very much."
Toba shook his head.
"How are the mighty fallen," he said. "Do you think
—
”
The larger man had taken a step nearer the monk. His fist suddenly shot forward.
Timyin Tin appeared to shift only slightly, but Sundoc's fist passed him without making contact. The fingers of the monk's left hand seemed but to graze the passing elbow to guide it. His body turned somewhat. His other hand disappeared behind the larger man.
Sundoc was swept across the room to crash into the wall, head-downward. He fell to the floor and lay still.
"Ex
—
” Toba began. Then he, too, lay on the floor, senseless.
When the light returned to his eyes, Toba looked about the cell. The monk stood near the door, regarding him.
"Why did he attack me?" Timyin Tin asked.
"It was but a test," Toba gasped. "It is now ended and you have passed it. Do they practice such unarmed combat here?"
"Some," the monk said. "But I knew much from
—
before."
"Tell me about before. Where was it? When?"
Timyin Tin shook his head.
"I do not know."
"Another life, perhaps?"
"Perhaps."
"You believe in such things here
—
having lived other lives, do you not?"
"Yes."
Toba got to his feet. Across the chamber, Sundoc sighed and stirred.
"We wish you no harm," Toba said. "Quite the contrary. You must accompany us on a journey. It is very important. The head of your order has agreed to this."
"Where are we to go?"
"The place names would be meaningless to you at this time."
"What is it that you want me to do in the place where we are to go?"
"You would not understand that either, in your present condition. A different you
—
an earlier incarnation
—
would have. Have you never wondered about the man you once might have been?"
"I have wondered."
"We will restore these memories to you."
"How were they taken away?"
"By sophisticated chemical and neurological techniques you would not understand. You see, even to mention them, I have had to use words which are not in your present vocabulary."
"You know what I was
—
before?"
"Yes."
"Tell me what I was like."
"It is better for you to discover it for yourself. We will assist you."
"How will you do this?"
"We will give you a series of injections of
—
You would not know what RNA is, but we will treat you with your own RNA, from samples taken before you were changed."
"This substance will return knowledge of my earlier life to me?"
"We think so. Sundoc is a highly skilled physician. He will administer it."
"I do not know . . . "
"What do you mean?"
"I am not certain that I wish to become acquainted with the man I once was. What if I do not like him?"
Sundoc, who had risen to his feet and stood rubbing his head, smiled.
Toba said, "I can tell you this: You did not undergo the first change willingly."
"Why would someone force me to become another man?"
"There is only one way for you to learn this. What do you say?"
Timyin Tin crossed the cell to the urn and poured himself a cup of tea. He seated himself upon a mat and stared into the cup. He took a sip. After a time, Sundoc and Toba also settled to the floor.
"Yes, it is frightening," Toba said finally, groping for words and shaping them slowly. "It is the
—
uncertainty. You seem to have adjusted well to life here. Now we come along and offer to change it all, without really telling you what the alternative will be. This is not perversity on our part. In your present state of mind, you simply would not understand what we have to say. We are asking you to accept a strange gift
—
your own past
—
because we wish to talk with the man you used to be. It may be that, when you have remembered, you will not choose to deal with us. Then, of course, you would be free to go your own way, to return here if you wish. But the gift we will have given you is not a thing we can recall."
"Self-knowledge is a thing I desire," Timyin Tin stated, "and the recollection of past lives is an important step along that road. For this reason, I should say yes immediately. But I have meditated upon just this in the past. Supposing I were to achieve recall of a previous existence
—
not just a few memories, but all of it? Supposing I not only did not like that individual, but discovered that he was stronger than I
—
and instead of assimilating him into my existence, he were to assimilate me? What then? Would it not be a turning backward of the Great Wheel? By accepting knowledge from a source I do not understand, may I not be laying myself open to such possession by an earlier self?"
Neither man answered him, and he took another sip of tea.
"But why should I ask you?" he said then. "No man can answer such a question for another."
"Yet," said Toba, "it is a fair question. Of course, I cannot answer it for you. I can only suggest that, in terms of your beliefs, one of your future selves may one day be wondering that same thing about you. What would your feelings be about that?"
Abruptly, Timyin Tin laughed.
"Very good," he said. "The self always wants to be at the center of things, does it not?"
"You've got me."
Timyin Tin finished his tea, and when he looked up, there was a new expression on his face. It was difficult to understand how that slight squint with the small rising of the cheeks above a half-smile could convey the sense of recklessness, boldness and defiance that it did.
"I am ready for this enlightenment," he announced. "Let it begin."
"It will probably take many days," Toba said cautiously. "There must be a number of treatments."
"Then there must be a first one," Timyin Tin said. "What am I to do?"
Sundoc glanced at Toba. Toba nodded.
"All right, we will begin the treatments now," Sundoc stated. He rose and moved to the corner of the cell where his gear was stacked. "How soon can you be ready to travel?" he asked.
"My possessions are few," the monk replied. "As soon as this business is concluded, I will fetch my things and we can depart."
"Good," said the tall man, opening a small case containing a syringe and a number of ampules. "Good."
That night they camped in the mountains high above the monastery. They had sought a rocky declivity which broke the howling winds. Fine grains of snow swirled about their small campfire
—
like souls rushing to be melted, vaporized, returned to the heavens
—
recast, thought Timyin Tin, and he regarded them for a long while after the others had retired.
In the morning, he said to Toba, "I had a strange dream."
"What was it?"
"I dreamed there were some men in a vehicle of a sort with which I am not familiar. I was in a building, watching as it came to a halt. When the men emerged from it, I pointed a weapon at them, a tube with a handle and a small lever. I directed it toward them and drew back on the lever. They were destroyed. Could this dream be a part of my other life?"
"I do not know for certain," Toba said, gathering and packing his gear. "It could be. At this time, it is better not to regard any such things too critically. It is best simply to let them fall into place by themselves." Timyin Tin received an injection before they decamped and another that evening, following many leagues' travel along mountain trails.
"I feel that something is happening," he said. "There were peculiar
—
intrusions
—
into my thoughts today."
"What sort of intrusions?"
"Images, words . . . "
Sundoc drew nearer.
"What images?" he asked.
Timyin Tin shook his head.
"Too brief, too fleeting. I can no longer recall them."
"And the words? . . . "
"They were foreign, though they seemed familiar. I no longer recall any of them, either."
"You may take it as a good sign," Sundoc said. "The treatments are beginning to work. You may have more strange dreams tonight. Do not let them trouble you. It is best simply to observe and to learn."
That night Timyin Tin did not sit up meditating.
On the second morning, there was something different in his manner. When questioned by Toba concerning dreams, he simply replied, "Fragments."
"Fragments? What were they like?"
"I cannot remember. Nothing important. Let's have the morning's shot, huh?"
"Do you realize that the last thing you said was not spoken in Chinese?"
Timyin Tin's eyes widened. He looked away. He looked down at his feet. He looked back at Toba.
"No," he said. "It just came out that way."
His eyes filled with tears.
"What is happening to me? Who will win?"
"You will be the ultimate winner, by regaining what you had lost."
"But perhaps
—
" Then his expression changed. His eyes narrowed, the lines of his cheeks softened, a faint smile curved the corner of his lips. "Of course," he said, "and I thank you for it.
"How far must we journey?" he asked then.
"It is difficult to explain," Toba said, "but we should be out of these mountains in three days. Then perhaps a week's travel will take us to a major trail we must follow. It will be much easier after that, but the exact destination will depend on word we receive at a rest stop along the way. Let us give you your treatment now and begin."
"Very well."
That evening and the following day, Timyin Tin did not speak of whatever recollections might have come to him. When asked, he was vague. Sundoc and Toba did not press the matter. The treatments continued. The next afternoon, however, as they were making their way down through a pass toward the foothills, Timyin Tin pulled upon their sleeves to gain their attention.