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