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He
shuddered
,
he
gripped
the
wheel
,
leaning
forward
across
it
,
like
a
jockey
at
the
close
of
a
race
,
and
his
foot
pressed
down
on
the
accelerator
.
The
small
stretch
of
highway
before
him
bounced
with
the
leaping
of
his
headlights
.
There
was
nothing
beyond
the
lighted
strip
but
the
emptiness
of
the
prairies
of
Iowa
.
He
did
not
know
why
he
had
been
listening
to
the
broadcast
;
he
did
not
know
what
made
him
tremble
now
.
He
chuckled
abruptly
—
it
sounded
like
a
malevolent
growl
—
either
at
the
radio
,
or
at
those
in
the
city
,
or
at
the
sky
.
He
was
watching
the
rare
posts
of
highway
numbers
.
He
did
not
need
to
consult
a
map
:
for
four
days
,
that
map
had
been
printed
on
his
brain
,
like
a
net
of
lines
traced
in
acid
.
They
could
not
take
it
away
from
him
,
he
thought
;
they
could
not
stop
him
.
He
felt
as
if
he
were
being
pursued
;
but
there
was
nothing
for
miles
behind
him
,
except
the
two
red
lights
on
the
rear
of
his
car
—
like
two
small
signals
of
danger
,
fleeing
through
the
darkness
of
the
Iowa
plains
.
The
motive
directing
his
hands
and
feet
was
four
days
behind
him
.
It
was
the
face
of
the
man
on
the
window
sill
,
and
the
faces
he
had
confronted
when
he
had
escaped
from
that
room
.
He
had
cried
to
them
that
he
could
not
deal
with
Galt
and
neither
could
they
,
that
Galt
would
destroy
them
all
,
unless
they
destroyed
him
first
.
"
Don
’
t
get
smart
,
Professor
,
"
Mr
.
Thompson
had
answered
coldly
.
"
You
’
ve
done
an
awful
lot
of
yelling
about
hating
his
guts
,
but
when
it
comes
to
action
,
you
haven
’
t
helped
us
at
all
.
I
don
’
t
know
which
side
you
’
re
on
.
If
he
doesn
’
t
give
in
to
us
peaceably
,
we
might
have
to
resort
to
pressure
—
such
as
hostages
whom
he
wouldn
’
t
want
to
see
hurt
—
and
you
’
re
first
on
the
list
,
Professor
.
"
"
I
?
"
he
had
screamed
,
shaking
with
terror
and
with
bitterly
desperate
laughter
.
"
I
?
But
he
damns
me
more
than
anyone
on
earth
!
"
"
How
do
I
know
?
"
Mr
.
Thompson
had
answered
.
"
I
hear
that
you
used
to
be
his
teacher
.
And
,
don
’
t
forget
,
you
’
re
the
only
one
he
asked
for
.
"
His
mind
liquid
with
terror
,
he
had
felt
as
if
he
were
about
to
be
crushed
between
two
walls
advancing
upon
him
:
he
had
no
chance
,
if
Galt
refused
to
surrender
—
and
less
chance
,
if
Galt
joined
these
men
.
It
was
then
that
a
distant
shape
had
come
swimming
forward
in
his
mind
:
the
image
of
a
mushroom
-
domed
structure
in
the
middle
of
an
Iowa
plain
.
All
images
had
begun
to
fuse
in
his
mind
thereafter
.
Project
X
—
he
had
thought
,
not
knowing
whether
it
was
the
vision
of
that
structure
or
of
a
feudal
castle
commanding
the
countryside
,
that
gave
him
the
sense
of
an
age
and
a
world
to
which
he
belonged
.
.
.
I
’
m
Robert
Stadler
—
he
had
thought
—
it
’
s
my
property
,
it
came
from
my
discoveries
,
they
said
it
was
I
who
invented
it
.
.
.
I
’
ll
show
them
!
—
he
had
thought
,
not
knowing
whether
he
meant
the
man
on
the
window
sill
or
the
others
or
the
whole
of
mankind
.
.
.
His
thoughts
had
become
like
chips
floating
in
a
liquid
,
without
connections
:
To
seize
control
.
.
.
I
’
ll
show
them
!
.
.
.
To
seize
control
,
to
rule
.
.
.
There
is
no
other
way
to
live
on
earth
.
.
.
These
had
been
the
only
words
that
named
the
plan
in
his
mind
.
He
had
felt
that
the
rest
was
clear
to
him
—
clear
in
the
form
of
a
savage
emotion
crying
defiantly
that
he
did
not
have
to
make
it
clear
.
He
would
seize
control
of
Project
X
and
he
would
rule
a
part
of
the
country
as
his
private
feudal
domain
.
The
means
?
His
emotion
had
answered
:
Somehow
.
The
motive
?
His
mind
had
repeated
insistently
that
his
motive
was
terror
of
Mr
.
Thompson
’
s
gang
,
that
he
was
not
safe
among
them
any
longer
,
that
his
plan
was
a
practical
necessity
.
