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



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