The Media Candidate (13 page)

Shaken, but with the boldness of a winner, Dr.
Planck looked over the edge into the chasm. He could see nothing
and heard only silence. He looked at the front of his Vette and
cursed the scratch in the chrome bumper. He stooped to inspect the
damage without first considering the implications of the attack.
Climbing behind the wheel once more, he rested both hands on the
steering wheel and laid his head down on his hands to calm himself
and thought,
What the hell’s going on? That was a hit car, and
you know about them. But who could have sent it after me? How did I
get on somebody’s list? How?

“Jesus!” he shouted looking up. “Is that
possible? Could it have gone that far? Got to get back to COPE! And
fast!”

He turned his Vette around to head back, but
when his headlights illuminated the side of the hill ahead, he
caught a glint from a windshield. “Oh no! Here comes another car
without headlights!” He whipped his car around again and catapulted
down the road toward the freeway. He turned south on the San Diego
Freeway and was quickly up to 120 with visions of his pursuer
falling back out of sight as he grinned and gripped the steering
wheel. He looked in the mirror again and saw the car. It was black
this time and much larger. And not falling behind.

He screamed out to the nearly empty freeway,
“Where the hell’s a cop when you need him!” He pushed the peddle to
the floor and buried the speedometer for the second time in his
life. The first time had cost him his license for the second time.
His pursuer gained on him, still with no headlights. “I’ve got to
try something,” he whispered through clenched teeth. Dr. Planck
braked for the Santa Monica Freeway and saw his speedometer needle
move for the first time in a couple of minutes. A semi truck was
exiting just ahead of him and took both lanes nonchalantly. He
checked his mirror as the black car came up on him fast.

“Come on, truck! Turn east! Turn east!” But the
truck took the westbound ramp toward the ocean.

He downshifted and kicked it again, this time
choosing the eastbound ramp and wondering how he was going to get
to the beach going that direction. Then he saw his opportunity. The
off ramp from the northbound San Diego Freeway was about to merge
with his ramp. He hit the brake and cut a sharp right turn the
wrong way on that ramp. A car and a pickup truck were side by side
directly in front of him and charging straight toward him as he
fishtailed around the concrete barrier. They each swerved toward
the closest side with a shower of sparks as they made just enough
room between them for the Vette to slip through, smoke billowing
from its rear tires. The black car came around the same corner a
moment later and headed for the same opening between the obliging
traffic. Whereas the Vette had an inch to spare on each side, the
larger pursuit car did not. It came through the opening slightly
narrower than it went in, shearing off its right side in the
process, but it was still on track. Dr. Planck then slowed to let
the black car gain on him. He braked hard and fishtailed to the
right again around another concrete barrier, this time ending up
going the right direction on the ramp to the westbound Santa Monica
Freeway.

He could just barely see the black car through
the black smoke behind him. The car took the corner too fast and
slammed sideways into a concrete barrier, crushing the left side of
the car. Another car came up fast and glanced off the rear of the
black car, sliding sideways up the ramp and blocking it. Dr. Planck
smiled as he accelerated around the curve, quickly losing sight of
the wreckage. As he flew down the westbound ramp toward the ocean,
he said, “Well now, maybe I won’t need to go to the beach after
all!” But the big black car recovered and smashed through the car
parked sideways across the ramp. Both cars were totaled, but the
black sedan could still dash just as before. By the time Dr. Planck
reached the bottom of the ramp and merged onto the freeway, he was
doing over a hundred again. He looked in his mirror and there was
the black car, battered and broken, rocketing around the corner
behind him.

He saw a brilliant flash from an object on top
of the black car. “What the hell—”

Before he could finish his question, he saw a
car about a hundred yards ahead of him erupt in a ball of fire and
twisted debris. The black sedan had launched a rocket at him. The
rockets, Dr. Planck knew, were specifically adapted to go against
electrically powered ground vehicles, which was nearly every
automobile now. The rocket’s sensor automatically aimed it at the
nearest source of electromagnetic pulses characteristic of electric
drive vehicles. A 1956 Corvette, however, didn’t look anything like
an electric car to this sensor. Two more shots in quick succession
found their marks in the thin traffic ahead of Dr. Planck.

It’s only a matter of time
, Dr. Planck
thought,
until that prick realizes he’s got to switch his fire
control system to manual aiming
. For a minute, however, the
exploding cars ahead of the Vette created a challenge similar to
avoiding wrecks on the racetrack. Dense patterns of debris came
streaming back toward him and made for dangerous maneuvering at
over 130 miles per hour. He gripped the wheel and shouted
obscenities into the wind through grinning lips, only to be lost to
the entropy of the freeway.

At the end of the freeway in Santa Monica, he
swerved several times around city streets, keeping the sedan out of
direct line-of-sight long enough for accurate manual target
acquisition. At one point, the black car anticipated a sharp right
turn that Dr. Planck had started to make. But looking around the
corner, he had seen a liquefied petroleum gas tanker in the way. He
kicked the accelerator and swerved left to continue down the street
he was on. Just as he passed in front of the tanker, a rocket hit
it broadside. An orange fireball erupted in his peripheral vision,
and he had just enough time to look toward it when the shock wave
caught up with him. The blast slammed the Vette sideways just as it
disappeared behind a building. The black sedan dashed down an alley
a half block before the intersection and was able to reacquire the
Corvette within five blocks.

Dr. Planck saw the sign he was looking for just
as he saw the black car pull in behind him once more. The sign
said: “Venice Beach Next Right.” “I guess it’s time to go for it!
If this doesn’t work, it’ll be my ass!” The black wreck trailed him
doggedly as he roared over a wooden bridge and was airborne on the
other side.

He pulled a hard right, fishtailed up onto a
sidewalk, and burned rubber down the sidewalk and out onto a
boardwalk. The black car followed, leaving almost the same set of
tracks. Out on the boardwalk, Dr. Planck swerved back and forth to
miss all the trashcans, wooden benches, and light poles. The car
behind him failed to follow such etiquette and simply plowed
through them all, leaving wreckage strewn behind. Dr. Planck saw
the carnage in his mirror and said, “The Beach Committee is going
to be plenty pissed about that.”

Now with his goal in sight, he felt a surge of
adrenaline.
You lack finesse
, he thought,
besides being
bad mannered. Maybe I can teach you a little something about
driving now.

The boardwalk ended overlooking the ocean less
than a hundred yards from the surf, and there were eight steps down
to the sand at its end. A couple of lovers sat on the steps
overlooking the peaceful ocean. They kissed, fondled, groped, and
were just about to rotate their passion to the awaiting sand of the
deserted beach. Such focused attention deafened them to the roar of
the approaching engine.

The Vette relentlessly charged toward them and
was just a moment from ending their conjugal excursion. “Okay! Now
we’ll see how you do on the beach.” Dr. Planck slowed slightly just
before the edge in preparation for the turn he must make in the
sand to keep from plowing into the surf. Just before the front end
of the Vette took to the air, the heads of the two lovers became
visible. At that same instant, they turned their heads in unison to
see the front end of a candy-apple-red Corvette appear over the
edge of the top step. There wasn’t even enough time to duck as the
roaring machine bore down on them. Their ears were pierced with the
roar of a 409 cubic-inch V8 and their ardor wilted in an instant.
Then the hot air blasted them as the terrifying machine passed over
within inches.

The Vette took the steps in a single leap and
hit the sand after taking air for about fifty feet. This was where
its lightweight and wide racing tires would either save the day for
Dr. Planck or preside over his final race. The Vette hit the sand
with its struts and shocks fully extended, and its undercarriage
took on a couple hundred pounds of sand as it stabilized. He
immediately started a wide sweeping curve to the left, keeping
power on the rear wheels, and carefully turning the front wheels
and feeling for the edge of the envelope where the Vette would
start sliding, which would dig the wheels in and either bog him
down or flip him over. He finally got straightened out parallel to
the breakers, getting only the tires wet in the process. He watched
his mirror with attention to see how his adversary would take the
turn.

His confidence soared with the outcome of his
airborne entrance to the beach. He’d never taken so much air
before, and it had been years since he’d tested his mettle against
the vagaries of deep sand. Now he felt on top of the contest.

The big black car was right behind him as it hit
the edge of the boardwalk but going faster and taking more air
before furrowing the beach. It didn’t even come close to the two
witnesses on the steps for they’d gone horizontal in the sand at
the bottom of the steps, but in fear rather than passion. The black
car invaded the surf before completing the turn and was momentarily
stuck in the wet sand before a wave gave it exactly the needed push
and propelled it back onto the trail of Dr. Planck. He witnessed
this comedy in his mirror, and it brought a broad grin to his face
as he now realized that whoever or whatever was driving that car,
wasn’t in the same league with him in this new environment.

He’d gained several seconds and decided to
capitalize on that advantage. The two cars raced along the beach
keeping to the low, wet, firm sand with the waves lapping at their
wheels. There were a few fishermen standing on the sea side of the
sandy moraine with their long poles stuck into the sand and their
monofilament lines stretching out to sea above them. As the Vette
roared down the beach, they scampered to higher ground. Dr. Planck
thundered harmlessly beneath the taught lines. A few seconds later
the black sedan ripped the poles out of the sand and dragged them
and a flounder down the beach with it.

The two cars bounced down the beach at freeway
speeds, spending as much time airborne as plowing sand. The pursuer
fired several shots during this straightaway with predictable
accuracy.

“Now’s the time to separate the men from the
robots!” Dr. Planck shouted to the wind. He took his foot off the
gas, and the Corvette slowed quickly. Just ahead was a low spot in
the normally high moraine. As he turned left and spun up the
incline, the black car fired another rocket that impacted the sand
hill showering the Vette and its driver with sand. “Damn it! I just
vacuumed this car!” he yelled at his pursuer.

A few yards farther, he turned left again to
backtrack down the beach, but this time in soft, dry sand. He
accelerated as fast as he dare in this sand, carefully keeping the
car on a straight track. He watched anxiously in his mirror and
finally saw the hood of the black car emerge and stop as it tried
to make the last left turn to follow him. “Like that deep shit,
don’t you!” But the car was hopelessly bogged down and digging in
deeper with every spin of the wheel.

Heading back onto the street, Dr. Planck cooled
down with long, deep breaths. He stopped the car and walked around
it several times breathing deeply and exhaling great clouds of
vapor into the still, ocean air. His street composure had now
replaced his racing edge as he prepared to face his uncertain
future.

A pair of headlights came around the corner
directly in front of him, blinding him and cutting off any avenue
of escape. He stood with his hand on the car door, weighing his
options. The car stopped about twenty feet away, and a spotlight
shown into his eyes. The driver’s side door opened. Nothing else
happened for an eternity. Then the sound of a two-way radio
fractured the brittle stillness.

“Keep your hands in sight, sir,” the driver
said, “And step away from the car.”

Dr. Planck sighed with relief as he obliged. Two
men in dark uniforms approached him, each with a huge flashlight.
One man asked for his driver license while the other walked toward
the other side of the Vette.

“What are you doing here this time of the night,
Mr. Planck?” one officer asked.

“That’s Dr. Planck,” he replied coolly.

“What are you doing here?”

“I just couldn’t sleep.”

“So you decided to drive out to the ocean.”

Dr. Planck gave no response. He called on his
long history of dealing with the law in much more incriminating
situations than this.

“You been driving on the beach?”

“No.”

“How’d all that sand get in your car?”

“The wind.”

“What wind is that, Dr. Planck?”

“It was windy earlier.”

“Have you been drinking?”

“No.”

“Would you mind if we looked in the trunk?”

“Be my guest. This old car uses keys.” The trunk
was spotless.

The second officer asked, “This your car?”

“Yes.”

“What kind is it?”

“A 1956 Corvette.”