Chapter Eleven

   "YOU might be pleased to know," said Ness as they left the airport, "that we're through with the desert. From now on it's thickly settled."

   "That's very nice," returned Chris, checking his mileage. "What I really want to know is which road we're taking."

   "Just follow the signs leading to the Fair."

   "What fair?'

   "The World's Fair. What else?"

   "So we're going to a fair now, are we?" Chris shook his head. "This is funny. First I'm told what a sinner I am, and naturally it's true. So I get saved, and I'm given a route map and put on the road to Life City. And where does it take me? Down the gayway?"

   "That's right."

   "Why not take a bypass? There should be plenty of them."

   "Because that's the way it is. If you want to get to Life City, you have to go through the World's Fair."

   "Where is this carnival?"

   "In the middle of Pridesburg. That's the capital. It's about three hours' drive to the checkpoint."

   "Capital!" Chris was struck by a chilling thought.

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"Do you mean we're going to have to run through another of those Principality things?"

   "This one usually doesn't give us any trouble."

   They drove on in silence for an hour.

It was just ten years ago that we took that trip to the coast with Tom and Sally Man Eileen looked pretty and did we have fun I wonder if Christians ever have fun like that Old Quacious didn't look as if he'd had a good time since his fifth birthday Do you suppose Jesus had fun I bet he did Well if they blow up the world it's all over anyway I guess the only answer is get to Life City as fast as I can but I don't dig this Fair jazz. . . .

   The road took on the appearance of a motorway leading to a large metropolitan area. Signs began to appear saying VISIT ABADDONLAND, THE WORLD'S FAIR. Traffic increased. After some time Chris commented, "Hear that? I think it's a wheel bearing."

   "I didn't know what it was," said Rusty, "but I've been thinking we'd better start looking for a place to spend the night. We'll be coming to the checkpoint in another sixty miles or so. The only place I know is the Borderline Motel just outside the city, and they're full. I called them from the airport."

   "Can't we find a place in Pridesburg?"

   "It's not advisable. You're in enemy territory. How long can we go on that bearing?"

   ''I dunno."

   "Well, maybe we can get a night's sleep along here someplace."

   But when they did spot a motel, it invariably had a NO VACANCY sign hung there. Some special event in

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town had crowded the accommodation all along the route, and with darkness coming on they held council. They could return to the airport (where the lone hostel was overflowing with airlift-watchers), or go back to Airport City (which had no hotels, or motels at all, or try sleeping by the roadside. Neither of them was inclined to backtrack, so they finally pulled into a rest area and tried to doze in the car. It proved a cramping experience, especially for Chris, who was still feeling the effects of combat. The evening being warm and pleasant, the two travellers eventually lifted out the rear seat of the Mustang and set it on a grassy spot. Spreading a travelling rug and their coats, they settled themselves for rest. Rusty asked to have the car lights on while he turned in his Bible to the eighth chapter of Matthew.

   "Want to hear it?' he asked.

   "Be my guest," said Chris, yawning.

   " 'Now when Jesus saw great crowds around Him, He gave orders to go over to the other side. And a scribe came up and said to Him, "Teacher, I will follow You wherever You go.'' And Jesus said to him, "Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of man has nowhere to lay His head." ' That's funny, I had a feeling there was something Biblical about this arrangement. Seems our Lord did it."

   Chris reached under his hip and removed a stone. "I don't want a hole and I don't want a nest," he grunted. "I'll just settle for a sheet of foam rubber."

   Despite the dew, despite the morning crispness, despite the ground which failed to become softer as

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the night wore on, despite a certain stiffness of neck, they awoke refreshed. After washing their faces at the rest area drinking tap and offering a brief prayer, they set off in the car down the turnpike looking for food (the girls' lunchbasket had long since been exhausted). Their search carried them clear to the Borderline Motel, which indeed proved hospitable. They were given opportunity to shave and make themselves presentable, and were then filled with ham, eggs, toast and coffee.

   "You know what," said Chris after draining his third cup, "with prayer and coffee I don't care what's up ahead!"

   "I never had any flak going through Pridesburg," said Rusty, "but you can't tell. Maybe this is their day off. That could explain the cars on the road. It would mean that people were moving around, going to church and to the Fair and all."

   "Church! In a Principality of the devil?"

   "Oh, there are lots of churches here. These people are quite religious—didn't know? They believe the Bible."

   "But what kind of churches?"

   "Well, this is Abaddon's principality, so of course there's a First Church of Abaddon. Then there are people here from other Principalities, so there's the First Church of Belial—"

   "I'll skip that church," said Chris.

   "—and the First Church of Beelzebul, and the First Church of Apollyon."

   "Which one outranks the others?"

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   "There's a big cathedral down town known as the Mother Church, the Temple of Satan. It's an old building and the services are supposed to be quite formal."

   "But what do they do in these places? Curse and spit and hold Black Masses?"

   "Only on special occasions, so I've been told. When the worshippers get sluggish and indifferent they try to stir them up, but usually the services are milder. They give slide lectures about primitive magic, or reports on the latest anthropological cave discoveries. They hold Wednesday evening sneer meetings when they come to hear testimonies by people who have fallen from grace. It's hard to get such people to talk, I've heard. They have to pay good money to get them. But on Wednesdays they also tell stories ridiculing Christian believers. Then on Sunday nights they schedule historic films that describe how religious leaders of the past tortured and persecuted people who differed from them. At special seasons they honour the heroes of their church—Judas, Nero, Tamerlane, Attila, Hitler, Stalin, and all that crowd."

   "I can't believe it. Who do they pray to?"

   "To the demons, of course."

   "Demons!"

   "Yes, but be careful. In Pridesburg they say that the demons are really good spirits, the disembodied principles of human enlightenment."

   "I know that's a lie."

   "Naturally. But they're building a tremendous tower to one of the chief demons at the World's Fair.

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You can see it once we get inside the gate. It's called the Temple of Lucifer. They say it keeps on going up and up. I suppose you know Lucifer was an angel of light before he fell from Heaven."

   "I'm not up on my demonology," said Chris, "but it looks as if I will be. Just so he doesn't get into my wheel bearing."

   As they paid their bill they learned from the cashier that all garages in the vicinity were closed, so there was no chance of a repair job. They drove on another mile and traffic began to slow down. Chris could see barbed-wire barricades in the distance. Directly ahead was the checkpoint with a series of booths manned by uniformed and heavily armed troopers. One of them stepped out to look over the Mustang.

   "May I see your entry permits?" he asked.

   Ness leaned over. "Officer," he said, "we have our passports and we're going on to Life City."

   Immediately the trooper's expression changed. "Not today," he said. "The city's closed to through traffic."

   "But why?"

   "It's an unholiday in Pridesburg. They're celebrating the nineteen-hundredth anniversary of the fall of Jerusalem. You'll have to pull around and turn back."

   "Officer," said Chris, "I've seen you before somewhere."

   "Could be. Your plates were issued in my home town."

   "Doomsdale?"

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   "Right."

   "Look, sir," Ness tried again, "it's early; couldn't we just go right on through? We don't have any plans to stop and we'll keep our windows rolled up."

   The trooper's face was a mask. "Pull over," he said. He guided them into a parking lot where they waited for him. When he arrived he was carrying an attaché case. "Just coming off duty," he explained. "I'm Sergeant Manly Hooper," and he extended his hand.

   Both travellers were startled by this unexpected turn, but Ness recovered first. "I'm going to take a long chance, Sergeant," he said. "Have you ever been to the transmitter?"

   The trooper frowned. "Let me warn you to watch what you say," he said. "There's a linguistics centre on the sixtieth floor of the Temple of Lucifer, and they have what they call a Babel wave that can pick up audio signals all over town."

   "I can take care of that," said Ness. He took out his walkie-talkie and pressed a switch. It responded with a tiny, high-pitched squeal. "Go on with what you were saying, Sergeant," he urged.

   The trooper walked around to the other side of the car. "Let me in," he said. Then he continued, "It was a long shot, Mr. Ness, but you were right. Would you like to hear about it?"

   "We sure would."

   "I set out for Life City with my family two years ago. We didn't like some of the things we saw happening around us. We got along pretty well until we came

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to Pridesburg, but I ran into some trouble here. I got away from the Lord and began living a secret life. After that it seemed foolish to take any more risks, so I decided to lie low. I reported to Infernal Affairs, and discovered that any one from Doomsdale was welcome to stay as long as he wanted. The only problem was, they kept my passport."

   "Your Bible?" asked Chris.

   "Yes. Then they got me this traffic job, and after a year I was promoted to Sergeant. Meanwhile my family began to fall apart at the seams." His eyes became suspiciously moist.

   "Well, now, Sergeant, what are our real chances of making it through?" asked Ness.

   "You'd better not try it today."

   ''Why not?"

   "There's an ugly mood abroad. Three teenagers slipped through the barbed wire last week to try to make it to Life City. Now they've slapped on a curfew."

   ''But they have to let us through," protested Ness. "They're required to honour our passports."

   "Not on unholidays. There are huge crowds moving into the Fair, and the police won't guarantee your safety."

   "Sergeant," said Chris quietly, "why don't you ride along with us? They won't stop us if they see you. Then we'll all get through."

   Hooper shook his head. "Spiritually I'm ready to come, but I've got my family to think about," he said.

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   "Even so. I've got a wife and four boys back in Doomsdale. Is your family ready to go?"

   The Sergeant gave a frustrated laugh. "They used to say they were, but the two girls have got me worried. They went to church last week, and my wife told me one of them was offered two hundred dollars to testify at one of their sneer meetings. I think Mary Anne would like to leave, all right, but not without them."

   "You're in the same boat I am," said Chris. "If they won't leave, you can't make 'em."

   Hooper peered out of the window. "If I thought God wanted me to go with you and then try to come back for them, I'd say let's go."

   "Do you have a car?" asked Ness.

   "Yes, and I'm being watched. Tell you what: you wait here, and when you see my Valiant moving on to the motorway, you follow me. Here are two entry permits in case you get stopped, and here are two passes for the Fair." He got out of the car and leaned on the window. "Thank you for stopping by, gentlemen," he said. "Do you see this gun?" and he patted his revolver. "I know I haven't been true to the Lord, but if my daughter had gone through with her plan, I was going to blow my brains out. I guess that's why He sent you."

   "Does that mean you're coming with us?"

   "It does."

   "God in your heart, Sergeant," said Rusty.

   As the Mustang was already past the checkpoint, it was easy for Chris to pick up the Sergeant's Valiant and follow it. They swung into the main stream of

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traffic and saw looming ahead of them the Temple of Lucifer, an astonishing ziggurat of a building that dominated the landscape. Hooper turned down a side street and they followed a mile or so until he drew up in front of a residence.

   "I'm leaving my car here at the house," he explained. "They can use it."

   "Try to get them to come with us," said Ness.

   "Can't. They're all at the Fair." He went into the house and emerged in twenty minutes, dressed in civilian clothes and carrying a suitcase. The Mustang then headed back to the thoroughfare and they drove on until it became a park-drive, and a huge gate appeared with the sign, WELCOME TO ABADDONLAND, THE WORLD'S FAIR. The road continued through the gate, where Hooper saw them past the guards. Then they drove into the fairgrounds, following bumper-to-bumper traffic, keeping their doors locked and their windows rolled up.

   At first appearance the Fair seemed to Chris to follow a fairly conventional "expo" pattern. Cultural and scientific exhibits from the various Principalities were housed in buildings that impressed him as outlandish and bizarre; the cumulative modern effect, he decided, was depressing. Here and there some distinctive features were to be noted. A jagged pile of concrete on one corner celebrated MAN THE ANIMAL, while a white rounded structure surmounted by a cupola advertised itself as the HOUSE OF BAAL, THE ORIGINAL CULT OF FERTILITY. Next to it was a concession

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ride called the TUNNEL OF PERVERSION. A waiting crowd had gathered around an aluminium-and-glass building labelled INSTITUTE OF PORNOGRAPHIC RESEARCH. A few doors further they drove alongside a broad plaza in front of the Temple of Lucifer. Chris slowed down and gaped in astonishment at this great pile and the imposing series of fifty-foot-high sculptures that led to its entrance.

   "When I was here before," Rusty commented, "I was told that these statues form a group called THE PRIDE OF LIFE, designed to glorify the human race, human ambition and human achievement. It seems they represent man as triumphant over his religious and superstitious past and master of his destiny in time and space. If you look, you can see one figure stepping on the broken tables of the Jewish law and another crunching a cross in his fist. Two others are breaking down the spires of a cathedral." Chris stared at the wild ensemble of bulging biceps, clenched fists, jutting jaws, and arrogant expressions, and sank back in his seat rubbing his eyes.

   "If man is all that great," he reflected, "he ought to be farther along than he is. What bothers me is that I can't figure out who's behind this Fair. Is it man's show or is it the devil's?"

   "Good question," nodded Rusty. At that moment they passed a trailer parked by the curb, and a bright light suddenly flashed down on them from the roof of an adjacent exhibit building. A girl wearing a bikini slipped out of the crowds on the sidewalk and, to the astonishment of Chris and Rusty, jumped up and sat

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on the hood of the Mustang. At the same time police whistles sounded, television cameras rolled up from nowhere, flash bulbs began to pop, and four young men in red pantaloons and matador capes surrounded the little car.

   "God help us," groaned Rusty, "it's a disaster. Get something going?"

   Chris felt the button under his open shirt collar. "All-prayer," he said.

   Now the young men were tapping on the glass and insisting that the windows be rolled down. "Welcome to Pridesburg and Abaddonland!" said one of them, smiling. "Out of the tens of thousand of visitors to our World's Fair today, you have been chosen by our computer to become Special Guests of the Unholiday. A marvellous programme has been planned for you. Congratulations!" A patter of applause went up from the curious who were gathering on the side-walk.

   Manly Hooper, who had been in the back seat talking into his two-way radio, now punched Chris on the shoulder. "I'll take your car and meet you with it outside the city gate," he said.

   "Which gate?" asked Chris, panicking.

   "The Pridesburg east gate. It's a big spiked barrier set in an arch. Outside there's a main road all the way to Life City."

   "But—we're caught. We can't even get out of this Fair—"

   "There's an exit straight ahead," yelled Hooper in the increasing hubbub. "Look for—'' But before he could finish the sentence Chris was lifted bodily out

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of the car by two matadors and carried past the cheering crowd to a waiting white Diabolo 98. There he was joined by Rusty in the open car, then by the girl in the bikini, who sat between them and waved to the crowd as they moved slowly ahead. When the big car passed the Mustang, they spotted Hooper behind the wheel showing his badge to the police.

   The Diabolo proceeded down the boulevard a mile or so and stopped before a reviewing stand which over-looked a grassy military parade ground in the centre of the Fair. Chris and Rusty were taken by the matadors to the stand and presented to various Fair functionaries. They were then seated and exposed to an interminable programme of gymnastics, equestrian jumping, chorus competitions and a reading of prize poems on the theme, "God is dead". An eager young man with a transistor tape recorder finally joined them, obviously for purposes of an interview.

   "You are from our sister city in Doomsdale, are you not, Mr. Anders?' he asked.

   "That's right."

   "Your occupation?"

   "Computer salesman."

   "We are very happy to have you visiting us. How long do you expect to stay?"

   "Not sure."

   "What do you think of Pridesburg, Mr. Ness?"

   ''We have met only one of your citizens," said Ness, "but we think he is a most outstanding person."

   When the briefing was over, Rusty took Chris aside.

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   "Anders, old boy," he said, "it's not going to work. But praise the Lord anyhow."

   "What do you mean?" Chris suddenly felt weak.

   Ness took out his New Testament and covered it with a programme. "Listen to this: 'You shall even be brought before governors and kings for My sake, as a testimony of them.' We're not going to double-talk our way out of this one."

   "But they'll kill us! You heard what Hooper said. Once they find out the score, the ball game's over."

   "So?" A smile played about Rusty's lips.

I really believe this man's not afraid to die But boy I sure am I mean I'm ready to meet the Lord but to face this mob is something else Why did we have to fall into this Ever since I left that transmitter it's just been trouble and more trouble I thought it was supposed to be love joy peace and freedom I feel like a chicken about to have its neck wrung Where's that button. . . .

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