Chapter Seven
The train pulled in on time. I climbed aboard and had fifteen minutes to wait. I had a lower berth. The cars were air-conditioned. It was still warm in the depot and after the desert heat, the air-conditioned cars seemed chilly. There wasn’t anything else to do, so I undressed while the train was still in the depot, slid into my berth, found that a single blanket didn’t feel at all uncomfortable, and dropped off to sleep. I didn’t even know when the train pulled out.
Somewhere along the road, I dreamed there was a big earthquake. The track had twisted and turned like a tortured snake trying to crawl off a hot iron. The train buckled in the middle, slewed sideways. Cars were rolling over and over—
A voice kept saying in a hoarse whisper, “Lower nine — lower nine — lower nine,” and I realized the earthquake was caused by hands tugging at the blanket.
I knuckled my eyes and said, “What is it?”
“Ge’mman has to see you right away.”
“What the devil,” I said, fighting against the sense of unreality and a growing irritation.
“Turn on the light in there,” a voice said.
I sat up in the berth, and pulled the curtains aside.
Lieutenant Kleinsmidt was standing in the aisle with the white-coated, big-eyed porter at his side.