Free Damnation Alley by Roger Zelazny Page A

and stopped. Then he saw them. He sat there and watched them as they passed, about a half-mile ahead.
    A monstrous herd of bison crossed before him. It took the better part of an hour before they had passed. Huge, heavy, dark, heads down, hooves scoring the soil, they ran without slowing, until the thunder was great, and then rolled off toward the north, diminishing, softening, dying, gone. The screen of their dust still hung before him, and he plunged into it, turning on his lights.
    He considered taking a pill, decided against it. Greg might be waking soon, and he wanted to be able to get some sleep after they'd switched over.
    He came up beside a highway, and its surface looked pretty good, so he crossed onto it and sped ahead. After a time, he passed a faded, sagging sign that said "Topeka, 110 miles."
    Greg yawned and stretched. He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles and then rubbed his forehead, the right side of which was swollen and dark.
    "What time is it?" he asked.
    Tanner gestured toward the clock in the dashboard.
    "Morning or afternoon?"
    "Afternoon."
    "My God! I must have slept around fifteen hours!"
    "That's about right."
    "You been driving all that time?"
    "That's right."
    "You must be done in. You look like hell. Let me just hit the head. I'll take over in a few minutes."
    "Good idea."
    Greg crawled toward the rear of the vehicle.
    After about five minutes, Tanner came upon the outskirts of a dead town. He drove up the main street, and there were rusted-out hulks of cars all along it. Most of the buildings had fallen in upon themselves, and some of the opened cellars that he saw were filled with scummy water. Skeletons lay about the town square. There were no trees standing above the weeds that grew there. Three telephone poles still stood, one of them leaning and trailing wires like a handful of black spaghetti. Several benches were visible within the weeds beside the cracked sidewalks, and a skeleton lay stretched out upon the second one lanner passed. He found his way barred by a fallen telephone pole, and he detoured around the block. The next street was somewhat better preserved, but all its storefront Windows were broken, and a nude manikin posed fetchingly with her left arm missing from the elbow down. The traffic light at the corner stared blindly as Tanner passed through its intersection.
    Tanner heard Greg coming forward as he turned at the j next corner.
    "I'll take over now," he said.
    "I want to get out of this place first," and they both watched in silence for the next fifteen minutes, until the dead town was gone from around them.
    Tanner pulled to a halt then and said, "We're a couple hours from a place that used to be called Topeka. Wake me if you run into anything hairy."
    "How did it go while I was asleep? Did you have any trouble?"
    "No," said Tanner, and he closed his eyes and began to snore.
    Greg drove away from the sunset, and he ate three ham sandwiches and drank a quart of milk before Topeka.
     
    Tanner was awakened by the firing of the rockets. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stared dumbly ahead for about half a minute.
    Like gigantic dried leaves, great clouds fell about them. Bats, bats, bats. The air was filled with bats. Tanner could hear a chittering, squeaking, scratching sound, and the car was buffeted by their heavy, dark bodies.
    "Where are we?" he asked.
    "Kansas City. The place seems full of them," and Greg released another rocket, which cut a fiery path through the swooping, spinning horde.
    "Save the rockets. Use the fire," said Tanner, switching the nearest gun to manual and bringing cross-hairs into focus upon the screen. "Blast 'em in all directions, for five, six seconds, then I'll come in."
    The flame shot forth, orange and cream blossoms of combustion. When they folded, Tanner sighted in the screen and squeezed the trigger. He swung the gun, and they fell. Their charred bodies lay all about him, and he added new ones to the smoldering heaps.
    "Roll it!" he