Universe Twister - Keith Laumer [140]
"I believe I know the lady in question," Lafayette said grimly. "That's three scores I have to settle with her—if not more."
"After that I had some crazy dreams about flying through the air. I woke up in a nice room with a smooth-looking little buzzard that must have been the old dame's brother or something; they favored a lot. He asked me a lot of screwy questions, and I try to leave and he grabs me, and naturally, I swat him a couple and the next thing I know a strong-arm squad is bum's-rushing me down here." Swinehild sighed. "Maybe I shouldn't of been so fast with that right hook—but the slob had cold hands. But I should of known I didn't have to worry. I knew you'd find me, Lafe." Her lips nuzzled his ear.
"By the way," she whispered, "I brought the lunch. How about a nice hunk o' sausage and cheese? It's a little crumbly—I been carrying it tucked in my bodice—"
"No, thanks," Lafayette said hastily, disengaging himself. "We have to get out of here right away. I'm going to go back outside and find a key—"
"Hey, how'd you get in here, Lafe? I never heard the door open . . ."
"I came through the wall. Nothing to it, just a trick I'll tell you about later. But I can't take you out that way. I'll have to get the door open. So if you'll just wait here—"
"You're going to leave me alone again?"
"It can't be helped, Swinehild. Just sit quietly and wait. I'll be back as soon as possible. It shouldn't take too long."
"I . . . I guess you know best, Lafe. But hurry. I never did like being alone in the dark."
"Never fear, there's a good girl." He patted her shoulder. "Try to think about something nice, and I'll be back before you know it."
"G-g'bye, Lafe. Take care."
Lafayette groped his way to the wall, reactivated the flat-walker, waded forward into the glare of the corridor. Again he adjusted his eyes to the light and to the alternately stretched-out and compressed nature of visual phenomena. The narrow passage was still empty. He deactivated the flat-walker, saw the view slide into normality. He made his way stealthily along to the nearest cross-corridor. Two men in scarlet coats lounged in a lighted doorway twenty feet from the intersection. One of them, a paunchy, pasty-faced fellow with untrimmed hair, wore a large ring of keys dangling from his belt. There was no chance to approach them openly. Again O'Leary pressed the control switch of the flat-walker, saw the sides of the passage rush together while the solid glass walls beside him stretched out to a shimmering, opalescent blankness.
"Don't lose your bearings," he instructed himself sternly. "Straight ahead, about twenty paces; then rematerialize—and while they're catching their breath, grab the keys and go flat. Got it?"
"Got it," he replied, and started forward.
At the first step, the lighted corridor shifted, collapsed, became a cloudy veil. Lafayette felt about him; nothing tangible met his hands.
"Must be some kind of orientation effect," he suggested to himself. "Just keep going."
It was confusing, pushing forward into the milky glare. By turning his head sideways, O'Leary could see an alternate pattern of glass bricks which revolved away from him as he passed, like walking past an endless curved mirror. After five paces, he was dizzy. After ten, he halted and took deep breaths through his nose to combat the sensation of seasickness.
"Pinchcraft has a few bugs to iron out," he muttered, swallowing hard, "before the flat-walker is ready for the market." He forged on another five paces. How far had he come now? Ten paces? Or twenty?