Land Beyond the Map

“This is just about the most basic fear a man or a woman has to face, Polly. The ground beneath your feet is a part of everyday life, so natural and permanent a thing you don’t even think of it at all. But when you’re caught in an earthquake and the whole ground begins to move beneath your feet, then you’re faced with the destruction of sanity itself. You can hide from thunder and lightning, take shelter from rain and hail, fight free from a flood and even escape a volcano. But an earthquake when the very ground shivers in fear… there’s nowhere to hide then, Polly, nowhere to hide at all. And your mind can’t accept that. If you just let your unconscious instincts take over, you’re finished, old girl. You have to think and reason your way through — it’s the only way….”

Crane had been desperately wondering just how long he would have to keep up this pretentious line of talk before Polly caught the spark, hit back, regained her blend of scorn and cockiness towards him. She sat back, pressing her slender shoulders back into the leather coat, breathing deeply.

“Look, Rolley,” she said at last. “The road remains firm. It goes up and down and around; but it is nowhere broken. It stays there all the time.”

And Crane knew she had conquered her basic fears.

“Reminds me of those fantastic inventions the wheezes boys got up to during the war. They built a road from links and slats across the sea ready for D-Day. They sent a truck across it and then a motor torpedo boat sailed past at full knots. The road waved around just like the road we’re on now.” Crane smiled; but he didn’t reach across and touch Polly reassuringly. “But the truck stuck on as though glued; it looked somehow impossible, to see a truck chugging along a road swashing up and down in the sea.”

“I’ve seen film of that on television.” Polly pointed towards the clump of trees that had first taken Crane’s eye. “The trees — they’ve gone. They’ve been sucked down. And, look, over there — those rocky crags have just been upthrust.”

“Whatever’s happening out there, then,” Crane said slowly, losing some of his own elemental fear now that Polly had calmed down, “is purely on the natural level. The road, the man-made — or the what-have-you-made — artifact is unaffected. It’s all part of nature.”

Polly laughed, still a trifle too shrilly. “If you can call a sea of solid earth natural, then, yes, you’re right.”

VII

At first they didn’t realize what happened next. Then, when the soft white flakes began to drift silently into the car and disappear into tiny patches of moisture, gleaming in the sun, they had to accept it.

“It’s snowing!” Crane said, and was surprised he could still feel surprise, here in this maniacal other world.

Polly had regained her usual poise and Crane felt a quick stab of admiration for her unalloyed by his habitual sense of inferiority toward her. She put a hand to her hair and shivered as the snow built up with unbelievable speed, so that a carpet of white covered everything outside. “If this is what it was like a million years ago then I’m glad I wasn’t born then.”

“No. We weren’t born then. But we are there — now.”

“If we’re there. We don’t know where we are.”

“Except that we’re in the Map Country.”

“Yes. The Map Country.” Polly’s voice held steadily.

Crane decided he’d better show a little spirit.

“And it cost a cool hundred thousand.”

Polly didn’t laugh. But she said: “Plus the hotel and crossing expenses and the hire of the car.”

“The car!” said Crane. He ducked his head fast and checked. “We’ve less than half a tank left.”

“You’ve only just thought of that?”

“Yes.” He kicked himself mentally very thoroughly. The lack of fuel would have been a trump card to have played in persuading her to turn back to their own normal world.

“Hadn’t we better think about—?” he began uneasily.

“Our pal’s catching up,” said Polly crisply, looking in the rear view mirror.

Crane sighed. “Okay, okay. Just a minute.”

He opened the door and stepped out onto crunchy snow. The road had quietened down now although the ground beyond still rose and fell uneasily. He waited until the tank was at the optimum range and then tossed the grenade very accurately. He ducked.

When he looked up after the blast the tank had fallen on its side off the road and its starboard arms were going up and down with the movement of the ground. A wisp of smoke rose from it. After the noise the silence hung menacingly, broken only by an ominous hissing from the wrecked tank.

Again Crane felt he should exert himself. Polly was so much of a personality, so tough, so dominating, mentally even more than physically, so independent and youthfully modern a character.

He said: “I think I’ll take a closer look at that clanking monster.” He used the old name deliberately. “Hold on.”