Time Is the Simplest Thing by Simak Clifford D

Author:Simak, Clifford D. [Simak, Clifford D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction, Fantasy, Paranormal
ISBN: 9781504013253
Goodreads: 25757525
Publisher: Open Road Media Sci-Fi Fantasy
Published: 1961-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

NINTEEN

“Don’t you think we should drive a little farther?” Harriet asked. “If that doctor should get suspicious …”

Stone wheeled the car into the drive.

“Why should he get suspicious?”

“He’ll get to thinking. He’s puzzled by what happened to Shep and he’ll get to wondering. After all, our story had a lot of holes in it.”

“For one thought up on the moment, I thought we did real well.”

“But we’re only ten miles out of town.”

“I’ll want to go back tonight. I have to do some checking on what became of Riley’s truck.”

He braked the car to a halt in front of the unit marked “Office.”

“Run your head into a noose, you mean,” said Harriet.

The man who had been sweeping off the steps walked over to the car.

“Welcome, folks,” he said, heartily. “What can the Plainsman do for you?”

“Have you two connecting?”

“It just so happens,” said the man, “we have. Nice weather we been having.”

“Yes, very splendid weather.”

“Might turn cold, though. Any day. It is getting late. I can remember when we had snow—”

“But not this year,” said Stone.

“No, not this year. You were saying you wanted two connecting.”

“If you don’t mind.”

“Drive right on, straight ahead. Numbers ten and eleven. I’ll get the keys and be right along.”

Stone lifted the car on gentle jets and slid down the roadway. Other cars were parked cozily against their units. People were unloading trunks. Others were sitting in chairs on the little patios. Down at the far end of the parkway a foursome of old codgers were loudly pitching horseshoes.

The car skidded into the space before No. 10 and settled easily to the ground.

Blaine got out and held the door for Harriet.

And it was good, he thought, it was almost like home to be with these two again—with two who had been lost and now were here again. No matter what might happen, he was with his own once more.

The motel sat atop the bluffs above the river, and from where he stood he could see the wide sweep of terrain north and east—the bald, brown bluffs and the erosion of the timbered gullies and ravines that ran down to the river valley, where a tangled expanse of ragged woods hemmed in the chocolate-flowing stream which meandered with an uneasiness of purpose, as if it could not quite make up its mind where it wished to go, leaving behind it, as landmarks of its indecision, isolated ponds and lakes and crazily winding sloughs as erratic in their course as the river ever could be.

There was a cleanness and a roominess that caught one’s imagination. There was a breath of freshness and the sense of space.

The manager came trotting down the walk, jangling a couple of keys. He unlocked the doors and flung them open.

“You’ll find everything O.K.,” he said. “We are very careful. There are shutters for all windows, and the locks throughout are the best available. You’ll find a supply of hex signs and good luck charms in the supply cabinet. We used to have them installed, but we found our guests have their own ideas on how they are best used.

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