The Mighty Dead

by William Campbell Gault

"Why shouldn't everything be all right? Lateral-American, the skyway to the stars, right?"

She smiled "Absolutely correct."

"And Milwaukee," Doak added. "Do you only handle the earth runs?"

"Until next year," she said. "I'm new."

"I'm old," Doak said. "Is there anything to drink on board?"

"Water, Mr. Parker."

"I'm not that old," he said.

She glanced at her watch. "We'll be in Milwaukee in six minutes. And that's the beer town."

But he had no time for a glass of beer. The limousine took him to the elevated station and the last car for Dubbinville was leaving in three minutes.

It was a nine-minute trip. He'd picked up an hour, coming west, and used but thirty-three minutes. It was still only seven o'clock when the huge elevated car hissed to a stop in front of the Dubbinville station.