| Matthew "Crash" Buckner. Fastest pen on the net. | | | | was the surge at the end. If he could hold their |
| Yeah, right. At the moment, he had one eye glued to | | | | attention until near the end, he could hit them with a |
| the pillow case and the other squinting away from | | | | socko ending. But what? Closing his eyes in |
| the glare of the sun coming through the window. A | | | | concentration, Matt drank some water. It tasted |
| hazy image of 11 AM on the clock surfaced to his | | | | bitter, echoing his fears of losing. Concentrate! he told |
| brain. Trying to think why he should get up. Oh, yeah, | | | | himself. The door to his cabin burst open after a brief |
| today was the Speed Writers Grand | | | | knock. McCauley tried not to show any expression |
| Competition..Matt plowed his way through the mess | | | | that would give away the pounding of his heart. It |
| on the floor, moodily kicking an empty beer can into | | | | was just the conductor asking for his ticket. A too |
| the kitchen. Why couldn't a writer of sixty-five retire | | | | long scrutiny metamorphosed into a sharp demand |
| in peace? Didn't he write enough stories for a | | | | for his "Ausweise" papers. Prepared for the worst, |
| lifetime? Social Security would pay for the basics, but | | | | McCauley had, besides his German passport, a letter |
| he wanted to spend them on the coast of California, | | | | from a high official in the Bundeswehr, a bogus letter |
| not in a hick town in Pennsylvania where he was. | | | | of introduction and carte blanc for any mode of |
| Matt blasted himself with the hot water in the | | | | travel. Though written on official stationary stolen |
| shower. Maybe a shave and a quick breakfast would | | | | from a German general's hotel room, it provoked a |
| wake him up enough to face the challenge.One | | | | silent, suspicious stare from the conductor. Faced |
| hundred thousand dollars went to the winner of the | | | | with such powerful permissions, he left abruptly. |
| Speed Writers Grand Competition. The rules were | | | | Sagging back in the seat and touching the hardness |
| simple: write a 2000 word short story in thirty | | | | of the gun secreted near his ankle, McCauley dared |
| minutes. Millions of readers all over the net would log | | | | to plan his next step.Matt suddenly went blank. |
| in, their pulses connected to the comparative heart | | | | Nothing. Not a glimmer of an idea would pop into his |
| rate meter. As they read the emerging story, the | | | | brain. The irresistible meters grabbed at his eyes, |
| meter would indicate their interest and give Matt a | | | | confirming his worst fears. He was dropping behind! |
| boost in the ratings. The money would go to the | | | | Frantically, Matt rummaged through the top drawer |
| writer with the highest point total. Matt would go | | | | of the computer desk. There! He knew he had a few |
| head to head with the previous day's winner, | | | | bennies left from college finals. He'd better take two. |
| "Garbage" Johnson. This was the final match-up; one | | | | He could work them off later. No, he'd better take |
| last effort to win all the marbles. Please God let them | | | | only one -- he might get sick and blow the whole |
| pick a Title he knew something about.An old | | | | thing. He wondered if his opponent was having the |
| classmate, "Garbage" Johnson got his nickname from | | | | same doubts. No. Just write the damn thing! Dawn |
| his dad, who was also a writer. Unlike his dad who | | | | finally smudged the horizon. They were coming into |
| wrote fourteen novels, two of which fostered | | | | the last stop before entering Poland. McCauley |
| movies, "Garbage" made his money in the fifties | | | | watched as boarders fussed with their luggage, one |
| writing for the pulp magazines. Sleazy police rags and | | | | well-dressed civilian even arguing with a guard, |
| low end sex magazines was more his style. Four | | | | berating him with large gestures. There must have |
| cents a word hardly paid for the rent unless he | | | | been something important in the trunks to cause that |
| cranked out three stories per day. Like "Garbage" | | | | much commotion. They must have been heavy, too, |
| Johnson, Matt didn't get paid much more. His venues | | | | because two burly porters were struggling to lift one |
| were the romantic monthlies, True Story clones and | | | | of the trunks onto the train. Curious as to their |
| fillers for the daily rags. But he was still a hack | | | | contents, McCauley made a mental note to check |
| writer.The aspirin seemed to work, but Matt was still | | | | them out. Now the owner of the trunks was heading |
| foggy from the party last night. A fast two mile run | | | | this way. Damn! He'd have to share his cabin with this |
| should shape him up. The competition log in started | | | | guy. Suppose he got nosy and discovered that he |
| at one PM.. plenty of time for a run. There was no | | | | wasn't a German citizen. The train hadn't moved yet. |
| use trying to bone up for the challenge, since he | | | | The conductor reappeared, asking for the new |
| wouldn't know the subject until one minute before | | | | occupant's papers. MacCauley noticed that his point |
| the bell. He'd just have to rely on his experience and | | | | of origin was the same as his destination. It appeared |
| natural talent. Half way through the run, a passing | | | | coincidental or were they both after the same |
| shower viciously belted his face, plastering down his | | | | fortune in gold? He also saw the hagenkreutz and |
| hair and tracking down his neck. The cooling effect, | | | | eagle of the SS on one of the papers. Then why |
| though was welcome as Matt powered up the final | | | | was he in civilian clothes?The dreaded gong startled |
| hill. Panting fiercely, he leaned on his gate to get his | | | | Matt. Three quarters of the time had passed. What |
| breath. His leg muscles tingled from the effort, letting | | | | happened to the half mark? He must have missed it. |
| him know that he wasn't a kid anymore.Just in time, | | | | He'd better start winding down. His climax must |
| Matt changed into dry sweats. He booted up the | | | | coincide with the allotted time or his adrenaline meter |
| computer and cued in the DSL. Logging onto the | | | | would suffer. Speaking of which -- how was he |
| website, Matt lined up four glasses of water and a | | | | doing? Sparing a glance, Matt did a double take. He |
| spare laptop as backup. Its modem set at the same | | | | was slightly ahead, but as he watched, his opponent's |
| website and a thesaurus opened and ready. As he | | | | meter gave a lurch forward. Frantically, Matt |
| waited, he propped his feet up on the tattered | | | | addressed himself to the keyboard. The sweaty |
| collection of notes for the novel he never had time | | | | keys sounded loud in his ears, the space bar jumping |
| to write. He gazed around him at the walls lined with | | | | under his thumb. Later, his traveling companion fell |
| bookshelves. Not too many books filled the shelves, | | | | asleep, his open mouth making wet noises. McCauley |
| but every magazine he wrote for and wanted to | | | | quietly stood up and left the cabin. Just in case, he |
| write for competed for space. Matt never read | | | | took his only carry-all with him. Two cars down |
| them, but enjoyed their very presence as proof of | | | | rumbled the dining car. He sat down at a table near |
| his industry. If he won this competition, they would | | | | the end and ordered a sandwich and coffee. A sign |
| stay behind with the second hand furniture and the | | | | over the door to the next car showed the symbol |
| out-of-date clothes in the closet. All he would need | | | | for the toilet and a sign declaring the baggage car off |
| was his laptop and the novel inside his head. A new | | | | limits except to authorized personnel. He had to get |
| life waited just on the other side of that mountain of | | | | in there. When the waiter came back, he asked the |
| a website, beckoning with impossible promises and | | | | waiter if there was any way he could check on his |
| tons of money. It took some luck, but he got this | | | | little dog in the baggage car. Informed that the door |
| far, didn't he? Not bad for an old hack writer.His | | | | was open, he assumed there would be no problem |
| kitchen timer chimed once. He set it in case he got | | | | accessing the car. McCauley forced himself to take |
| distracted and missed the start up. Not wanting any | | | | his time with the sandwich and coffee, refusing |
| interruptions he took the telephone receiver off the | | | | seconds. The noise between cars was deafening as |
| hook to his second line. False sounding applause and | | | | he skinned his knuckles getting into the baggage car. |
| whistles signaled the start of the contest. A large | | | | Luckily, the trunk he was looking for stood on its side |
| double faced meter took up most of the screen, | | | | in the middle of the car. A quick search found a piece |
| needles set at zero. Over each was a caricature of | | | | of metal he could use as a crow bar. Lining the open |
| his and his opponents faces. His looked slightly drunk | | | | trunk were rows of what looked like stockings. |
| with wild-looking hair and eyes at half mast. | | | | MacCauley hefted one and found it quite heavy for |
| "Garbage" Johnson appeared bloated and a little | | | | its size. Unwrapped, the bar inside looked a dull gray, |
| disgusted. The announcer recapped the competition | | | | but was stamped with official looking marks on one |
| so far, alternating with promos for their latest "Best | | | | side. Gouging the surface proved his suspicions that it |
| Seller" and extolling the virtues of their book | | | | was really gold! It was the very same gold stolen |
| club.Finally, the Title was announced as ..ta da.. "Hitler's | | | | from the Polish government needed by the Nazis for |
| Gold". Matt's instant response was. "Wasn't this done | | | | the purpose of extending the war.Sweat was now |
| a hundred times already?" Oh, well, here goes. At the | | | | dripping down the sides of Matt's face, the water |
| chime, Matt started to write. The clackety clack of | | | | almost gone, and the time running out. Matt figured |
| the wheels wound down, signaling an unscheduled | | | | he had a few minutes left to cap off the story |
| stop. Major McCauley looked at his civilian watch, | | | | before the final gong sounded. He had to know how |
| noting the time. In these days of dusk before the | | | | his enemy was doing. The meters stood near the |
| war was officially declared over, anything could | | | | highest mark, neck to neck and moving. This was |
| happen to jeopardize his mission.At the word 'mission', | | | | going to be close. A mere thousand dollars went to |
| the adrenaline meter by his name jumped up one | | | | second place. Pound those keys, make the deadline |
| division. His opponent's hadn't moved. Then just as he | | | | or die! That was Matt's credo his whole life as a |
| gathered his thoughts for the next sentence, Matt | | | | writer. Write or don't eat. Write or walk the streets. |
| saw the meter on the right side of the screen take a | | | | Deep in a secret pocket, MacCauley dug out a |
| double hit. Damn, he'd better get moving. Mentally | | | | syringe prepared with a powerful sleeping potion. A |
| vowing not to look at the enemy meter, Matt went | | | | gun wasn't the only weapon at his disposal. His |
| to work. The next sentence flew across the screen. | | | | sleeping visitor now snored softly, not waking upon |
| Just the thought of twenty million dollars of raw gold | | | | Matt's entrance. The drug would wear off in twelve |
| made his heart pound. A cheap shot, but that ought | | | | hours, leaving him dizzy and disoriented. McCauley had |
| to get their hearts going. Hitler didn't own it any more | | | | replaced the labels on the trunk of gold bars with the |
| than he did. The report of its whereabouts burned a | | | | labels prepared for the gold's shipment out of Poland. |
| hole near his heart. Somewhere in a coal mine in | | | | The train finally started to move but in the wrong |
| Poland was stashed the bars of gold that would have | | | | direction! The change in direction shocked him at first, |
| allowed the Reich to live on. The location was | | | | then he realized that it solved all his problems. The |
| inadvertently revealed in a news report on the last | | | | train was heading back into Germany. His expected |
| page of the Berliner Zietung. Unfortunately, Major | | | | two week mission was over before it started and |
| McCauley's opposite number in intelligence | | | | one phone call would secure the gold for the |
| undoubtedly also saw the report. He was probably | | | | Americans. A grim smile tugged at the corners of his |
| heading there right now from somewhere deep in | | | | mouth as he turned back to the compartment to |
| Germany. Air travel was impossible and a car would | | | | take care of his prisoner. The End.Matt stared at his |
| take too long what with all the check zones in place. | | | | frozen meter. It stuttered then jumped to the top |
| So he probably used the rails just as he himself did.A | | | | of the scale. He won! He did it! California here I come! |
| gong sounded from the computer signaling that one | | | | Matt went to the closet and started to pack. Into |
| quarter of the allotted time had passed. Matt stole a | | | | the empty suitcase he lovingly placed the notes for |
| look at the adrenaline meters. His meter showed him | | | | his novel. His dreams went in with them.Thogh not |
| ahead by a nose, its steady but slow rise wavering | | | | primarily a fiction writer, that vehicle presents a |
| at the half way point. The only thing that counted | | | | viable face for exploring the future. |