Duel by Richard Matheson

made their final adjustments, then walked quickly to the large, glass-fronted control room and entered.
    A short, middle-aged man in a white lab coat came out and strode over to the chamber. He peered into its gloomy interior.
    â€œBob?” he said. “You want to see me?”
    â€œYes,” Wade said. “I just wanted to say the usual thing. On the vague possibility that I’m unable to return, I—”
    â€œUsual thing!” snorted Professor Randall. “If you think there’s any possibility of it at all, get out of that chamber. We’re not that interested in the future.” He squinted into the chamber. “You smiling?” he asked. “Can’t see clearly.”
    â€œI’m smiling.”
    â€œGood. Nothing to worry about. Just keep strapped in, mind your P’s and Q’s and don’t go flirting with any of those Buck Rogers women.
    Wade chuckled. “That reminds me,” he said. “Mary asked me to say hello to Buck Rogers. Anything you’d like me to do?”
    â€œJust be back in an hour,” growled Randall. He reached in and shook hands with Wade. “All strapped?”
    â€œAll strapped,” Wade answered.
    â€œGood. We’ll bounce you out of here in, uh—” Randall looked up
at the large red-dialed clock on the firebrick wall. “In eight minutes. Check?”
    â€œCheck,” Wade said. “Say goodbye to Doctor Phillips for me.”
    â€œWill do. Take care, Bob.”
    â€œSee you.”
    Wade watched his friend walk back across the floor to the control room. Then, taking a deep breath, he pulled the thick circular door shut and turned the wheel, locking it. All sound was cut off.
    â€œTwenty-four seventy-five, here I come,” he muttered.
    The air seemed heavy and thin. He knew it was only an illusion. He looked quickly at the control board clock. Six minutes. Or five? No matter. He was ready. He rubbed a hand over his brow. Sweat dripped from his palm.
    â€œHot,” he said. His voice was hollow, unreal.
    Four minutes.
    He let go of the bracing handle with his left hand and, reaching into his back pants pocket, he drew out his wallet. As he opened it to look at Mary’s picture, his fingers lost their grip, and the wallet thudded on the metal deck.
    He tried to reach it. The straps held him back. He glanced nervously at the clock. Three and a half minutes. Or two and a half? He’d forgotten when John had started the count.
    His watch registered a different time. He gritted his teeth. He couldn’t leave the wallet there. It might get sucked into the whirring fan and be destroyed and destroy him as well.
    Two minutes was time enough.
    He fumbled at the waist and chest straps, pulled them open and picked up the wallet. As he started to rebuckle the straps, he squinted once more at the clock. One and a half minutes. Or—
    Suddenly the sphere began to vibrate.
    Wade felt his muscles contract. The slack waist band snapped open and whipped against the bulkhead. A sudden pain filled his chest and stomach. The wallet fell again.

    He grabbed wildly for the bracing handles, exerted all his strength to keep himself pressed to the seat.
    He was hurled through the universe. Stars whistled past his ear. A fist of icy fear punched at his heart.
    â€œMary!” he cried through a tight, fear-bound throat.
    Then his head snapped back against the metal. Something exploded in his brain, and he slumped forward. The rushing darkness blotted out consciousness.
    Â 
    It was cool. Pure, exhilarating air washed over the numbed layers of his brain. The touch of it was a pleasant balm to him.
    Wade opened his eyes and gazed fixedly at the dull gray ceiling. He twisted his head to follow the drop of the walls. Slight twinges fluttered in his flesh. He winced and moved his head back to its original position.
    â€œProfessor Wade.”
    He started up at the voice, fell back in hissing pain.
    â€œPlease