Lanark_ a life in 4 books - Alasdair Gray [193]
Nothing he said would persuade her to touch the food so he removed it himself, peeled off the sodden wrappings and repacked it in his own rucksack along with the brandy flask. Then they rose, walked around the chariot and saw the shadowy prow of another chariot. The road was hidden by a wilderness of broken chariots which loomed in the mist like a fleet of sunk battleships, the shafts, axles, broken rims and naked spokes sticking up between sand-logged hulls like masts, anchors and titanic paddlewheels. It was impossible to climb through so they trudged round, often stopping at first to pour sand from their shoes but soon tiring of this and plodding uncomfortably on. Many hours seemed to pass before they stepped onto asphalt again. They sat and had a nip of brandy before emptying their shoes for the last time, then they joined hands over the yellow line and resumed walking.
New freshness filled them. There was little or no strain on their arms, the mist grew warm as if the sun was about to come through and they were soothed by pleasant sounds: first larksong overhead, then the crooning of pigeons and a swishing as if heavy rain were falling in a forest. Once they heard such a loud gurgling and creaking of oars that Lanark groped with his torch to the roadside, expecting to see the bank of a wide river, but though the water noise grew louder he saw nothing but sand. Farther on they were passed by footsteps and voices going the opposite way. The voices travelled in clusters of two and three and spoke quietly and indistinctly except for a couple who seemed to be arguing.
“… a form of life like you or me.”
“… here’s ferns and grass….”
“What’s wonderful about grass?”
As they passed through an invisible crowd of chattering children some real raindrops dashed in their faces and the mist turned golden and lifted. The straight road, embanked in places, ran without undulation across undulating sand to a mountain on the horizon. Tiny farms, fields and woodlands covered foothills which glittered in the rain as though dusted with silver: the summit was split into many snowy peaks with clouds drifting down between them, and all this was seen under a rainbow, a three-quarter violet blue green yellow orange red arc shining sweetly in a shining sky. Rima smiled at the distance and gripped both his hands. She said, “It was good of you to bring me out of that place. You’re very wise sometimes.”
They kissed and walked onward. The mist descended and the strange gravities of the road strained their arms once more. Again they avoided the strain by walking in a half-conscious daze. At last Rima said, “We’re nearly there.”
Lanark jerked awake and saw a rocky wall above them in the mist. He switched on the torch and an iron door appeared with these words on it:
EMERGENCY EXIT 3124
NO ADMITTANCE
Rima sat down with her back to the door and folded her arms. Lanark stood staring at the words, trying not to believe what he saw. Rima said, “Give me something to eat.”
“But—but—but this is impossible! Impossible!”
“You led us right round these chariots and back along the road.”
“I’m sure it’s a different door. It’s rustier.”
“The same number’s on it. Give me that rucksack.”
“But Munro said the road was clearly marked!”
“Are you deaf? I’m starving! Pass the bloody rucksack!”
He sat down and laid the rucksack between them. She opened it and began eating with tears flowing down her cheeks. He laid a hand on her shoulder. She shook it off so he started eating too. Hunger and thirst hadn’t troubled him much since entering the zone and now he found the food so tasteless that he returned it to the rucksack, but Rima chewed as fast and savagely as if eating were a sort of revenge. She devoured dates, figs, beef, oatmeal and chocolate and all the time the tears poured down her cheeks. Lanark stared in awe and at last said timidly, “You’ve eaten more than half the food.”
“Well?”
“We’ve still a long way to travel.”
She made a noise between