Good Omens

that sort of performance out of one of these modern cars,” he said lovingly.
    They stared at him.
    There was a little electronic click.
    The gate was rising. The housing that contained the electric motor gave a mechanical groan, and then gave up in the face of the unstoppable force acting on the barrier.
    â€œHey!” said Sgt. Deisenburger, “Which one of you yo-yos did that?”
    Zip. Zip. Zip. Zip . And a small dog, its legs a blur.
    They stared at the four ferociously pedaling figures that ducked under the barrier and disappeared into the camp.
    The sergeant pulled himself together.
    â€œHey,” he said, but much more weakly this time, “did any of them kids have some space alien with a face like a friendly turd in a bike basket?”
    â€œDon’t think so,” said Crowley.
    â€œThen,” said Sgt. Deisenburger, “they’re in real trouble.” He raised his gun. Enough of this pussyfooting around; he kept thinking of soap. “And so,” he said, “are you.”
    â€œI warns ye—” Shadwell began.
    â€œThis has gone on too long,” said Aziraphale. “Sort it out, Crowley, there’s a dear chap .”
    â€œHmm?” said Crowley.
    â€œI’m the nice one,” said Aziraphale. “You can’t expect me to—oh, blast it. You try to do the decent thing, and where does it get you? ” He snapped his fingers.
    There was a pop like an old-fashioned flashbulb, and Sgt. Thomas A. Deisenburger disappeared.
    â€œEr ,” said Aziraphale.
    â€œSee?” said Shadwell, who hadn’t quite got the hang of Madame Tracy’s split personality. “Nothing to it. Ye stick by me, ye’ll be all right.”
    â€œWell done,” said Crowley. “Never thought you had it in you.”
    â€œNo,” said Aziraphale. “Nor did I, in fact. I do hope I haven’t sent him somewhere dreadful .”
    â€œYou’d better get used to it right now,” said Crowley. “You just send ’em. Best not to worry about where they go.” He looked fascinated. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your new body?”
    â€œOh? Yes. Yes, of course. Madame Tracy, this is Crowley. Crowley, Madame Tracy . Charmed, I’m sure.”
    â€œLet’s get on in,” said Crowley. He looked sadly at the wreckage of the Bentley, and then brightened. A jeep was heading purposefully towards the gate, and it looked as though it was crowded with people who were about to shout questions and fire guns and not worry about which order they did this in.
    He brightened up. This was more what you might call his area of competence.
    He took his hands out of his pockets and he raised them like Bruce Lee and then he smiled like Lee van Cleef. “Ah,” he said, “here comes transport.”
    THEY PARKED THEIR BIKES outside one of the low buildings. Wensleydale carefully locked his. He was that kind of boy.
    â€œSo what will these people look like?” said Pepper.
    â€œThey could look like all sorts,” said Adam doubtfully.
    â€œThey’re grownups, are they?” said Pepper.
    â€œYes,” said Adam. “More grown-up than you’ve ever seen before, I reckon.”
    â€œFightin’ grownups is never any use,” said Wensleydale gloomily. “You always get into trouble.”
    â€œYou don’t have to fight ’em,” said Adam. “You just do what I told you.”
    The Them looked at the things they were carrying. As far as tools to mend the world were concerned, they did not look incredibly efficient.
    â€œHow’ll we find ’em, then?” said Brian, doubtfully. “I remember when we came to the Open Day, it’s all rooms and stuff. Lots of rooms and flashing lights.”
    Adam stared thoughtfully at the buildings. The alarms were still yodeling.
    â€œWell,” he said, “it seems to me —”
    â€œHey, what are you kids doing here?”
    It wasn’t a one hundred percent threatening voice, but it was near the end of its tether and it belonged to an officer who’d spent ten minutes trying to make sense of a senseless world where alarms went off and doors didn’t open. Two equally harassed soldiers stood behind him, slightly at a loss as to how to deal with four short and clearly Caucasian juveniles, one of them marginally female.
    â€œDon’t you worry about us,” said Adam airily. “We’re