Zelazny, Roger - Damnation Alley (v1.0) by Damnation Alley

Author:Damnation Alley [Alley, Damnation]
Format: epub
Published: 2010-04-12T09:25:01.222000+00:00

He heard a chuckle and was on his feet, the gun in his hand.

There was no one in sight. It didn't sound as if it had come from the car, and it didn't sound like Greg's voice anyway.

It had come from within the barn, though.

With his eyes, he explored each pooi of shadow. Nothing.

Then it came again, and this time his eyes moved upward.

There was a loft.

He raised the pistol toward the opening to the rear of the building and up. He pointed it toward the dark oblong framed with straw.

"Come down!" he said.

There was no reply, not until he'd fired two shots through the opening, and then a, "Wait! I'm coming!" was their echo.

The man who hurried down the crosswise slats was covered with dark hair and rags. He was perhaps a foot shorter than Tanner, and he crouched with his back against the wall, shaking. His eyes were feral, and he held his hands before his chest, fingers hooking outward like claws.

"Who're you?"

The man's eyes darted from the barrel of the gun to Tanner's face and back again several times.

"I said, 'Who are you?' mister!"

"Kanis," said the man, "Geoffrey Kanis," and his voice was steady and loud. "I'm not a scientist," he added.

"Who the hell cares? What were you doing up there, besides watching me?"

"I came here when the rain started, to get out of it."

"What was so damned funny?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why were you laughing?"

"Oh. Because you don't follow the rules of Batesian mimicry, and you should, you know."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm not a scientist."

"You said that already."

The man giggled, then recited, "It takes place in the same region and at the same season, according to Bates, and the mimicking species must not itself be protected, according to Bates, and it must be rarer than its model, Bates says, and it must differ from its own species by external characteristics clearly visible and able to create an illusion, Bates says that, too, and its mimicking characteristics should be only superficial and should produce no fundamental change in the species, Bates notes. He Worked with butterflies, you know."

"Are you nuts?"

"Yes, but I follow the rules."

"Move over into the light, where I can see you better."

The man did.

"Yeah, you got a nutty look about you. What's this Bates crap?"

"It's a thing certain creatures do for purposes of self-protection: Batesian mimicry. They make themselves look like something they're not, so nothing will bother them. Now, if you had been smart, you'd never have grown that beard, you'd wash your face and comb your hair, you'd garb yourself in a dark suit and a white shirt and a necktie, and you'd carry a briefcase. You'd make yourself look like everybody else. Then nobody'd bother you. Then you could do whatever you wanted without molestation. You'd resemble the protected species. You wouldn't be forced into danger."

"How do you know I've been forced into danger?"

"There is a look about you, a smell, a certain jumpiness . . ."

"And if I'd looked square, this wouldn't have happened?"

"Probably not.

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