Question two seemed to confirm all Wanda-Jean's doubts. Paul hit the answer button right away and came up correct. The only consolation was that he came in fairly quickly. One didn't gain all that much headway over the competition if one answered fast. On the other hand, delaying could mean that another player would have the chance to jump in first.

There were five inches of space between Wanda-Jean's legs when Priest started into question three. It was just creeping up to six when Paul tried to score again. With a look of confidence, he gave out his answer. Confidence turned to horror as Bobby Priest gloatingly informed him that it was incorrect. The floor opened all the way. He hit the goop with a loud slap that was picked up by a dozen or more directional microphones around the rim of the tank and probably more submerged in the goop; the sound was amplified and enhanced and fed out over the air like a clap of doom. The audience jumped up in the bleachers, howling and waving fists and making the weird, high-pitched keening that was unique to the audience on "Wildest Dreams" as Paul dragged himself laboriously to the edge of the tank with his bodysuit disintegrating and his body plastered with the garish goop.

With Paul gone it left Nancy and the long-haired farm boy. Wanda-Jean told herself that she was just lucky. It had to end soon. Question four began. Nobody seemed anxious to hit the button. The gap in the floor got bigger and bigger. Wanda-Jean didn't have a clue to the answer. The gap was twelve inches wide before the farm boy made a stab for the button. He didn't wait for Bobby Priest's ritual. His voice was high-pitched and trembling.

"Abraham Lincoln."

Bobby Priest didn't like any hick contestant getting in the way of his building up the suspense. For a fleeting instant his eyes narrowed, then his bland, all-encompassing smile spread across his face. He didn't actually jerk his thumb down like a Roman emperor. He didn't need to. It was there in his smile.

"I'm sorry, Billy…"

So that was his name.

"… It was Rameses II."

Billy hit the goop and the crowd went wild. Bobby Priest seemed to swamp the screen.

"Well! Well! Well! They're sure going down like flies tonight. I guess it's a real fast one. But don't worry. If this game ends before time, we got more fun for you. Meanwhile stay tuned to see the ladies battle it out, after these messages."

There was a pause for the commercials. Wanda-Jean sagged against the back of the booth. It was impossible to relax when the floor of the booth consisted of two six-inch shelves on either side.

Wanda-Jean saw that Nancy was looking at her. Their eyes met, Wanda-Jean looked quickly away. There was no way that they could communicate. It was one or the other of them who would fall.

The floor manager's voice came over the speaker. "Fifteen seconds to air time."

Wanda-Jean straightened up and dragged her face back into the pleasant, eager expression. She avoided even looking at Nancy while Bobby Priest was welcoming back the viewers. The picture cut to a long shot of Wanda-Jean and Nancy standing like specimens in their glass cases. There was something almost sinister about the two empty booths. It reminded Wanda-Jean of some form of execution.

Bobby Priest was off again. "Just Wanda-Jean and Nancy-will one of them make it to the Dreamroad? Maybe question five will tell all.

"Okay, ladies. Are you ready for question five?"

They both nodded. Wanda-Jean saw she was in close-up and forced herself to smile. The smile faded abruptly when she saw the next shot. It was one of the tricky angle shots that were the hallmark of "Wildest Dreams." The cameramen claimed it was what really made the show so big, but who listened to the cameramen?

This particular one was shooting up through the gap of the booth floor and straight between Wanda-Jean's legs. It missed being hard-core by just a fraction. Not that "Wildest Dreams" minded being hard-core, but there were still enough old folks in the ratings for the producers to try and make it look accidental rather than played for, as they did on the youth shows.

Wanda-Jean wanted to look down, but she restrained herself.

"Okay, here's question five."

The red light went on. Wanda-Jean tensed. The floor started to move again.

"He spent the majority of his life in prison.

"His first sentence was at the Indiana Boys' Reformatory at Plainville in 1951."

The remaining ledges of the floor at either side of the booth were becoming alarmingly narrow.

"In 1960 he was convicted of forging government checks and jailed for ten years."

Wanda-Jean didn't have a clue. She did her best to resign herself to dropping into the mud and out of the show.

"Released in 1967 he started a hippie-style commune at Spahn Ranch, near Los Angeles."

Spahn Ranch tugged tentatively at a cord in her memory. Then, in a flash, it fell into place. She had seen a show-it couldn't have been more than a month earlier. Wanda-Jean couldn't believe her luck. She hit the answer button. The floor stopped moving. The remaining strips of floor were now so small that Wanda-Jean had to brace herself with one hand to avoid falling. She caught sight of her worried face in full close-up on the monitor. She quickly changed her expression. She was supposed to be enjoying the experience.

Bobby Priest joined her in split screen on the monitor.

"Well, in the nick of time, Wanda-Jean thinks she's got an answer. Shall we see if she's got it right or if she's going to the vat!''

The crowd howled enthusiastically.

"Okay then, Wanda-Jean. What's your answer?"

Wanda-Jean's arm was starting to ache. It wasn't easy, staying on her precarious perch. "I think the answer's Charles Manson, Bobby."

"She thinks it's Charlie Manson."

The audience howled mindlessly. Bobby Priest assumed a sorrowful pose.

"Well, Wanda-Jean, I've got to tell you that…"

Wanda-Jean panicked. She felt sick. Then Bobby Priest's face lit up.

"… You're absolutely right!"

The crowd went wild right on cue. The floor under Wanda-Jean slid back into place. She was able to move around again. A shot of Nancy came up on the monitor. She was in a bad way. She had both arms pressed hard against the sides of the booth to keep her balance. The moment the floor started to move again she would fall. She probably wouldn't be able to reach for the answer button without slipping. It was all over for Nancy. Wanda-Jean allowed herself a quick triumphant grin. Almost as soon as her expression shifted she found her smirking image flashed up on the screen. There must have been a cameraman waiting for her reaction. Wanda-Jean tried to look like a good sport, but only succeeded in looking shifty. Then Bobby Priest took over.

"Okay, here we go with the next question. Are you ladies set to go?"

Wanda-Jean nodded, projecting keenness with all her might. Nancy didn't bother to respond. She just clung on with grim hopelessness.

"Okay, let's roll."

The red light came on. The floor started to move again. The picture held firm on Nancy.

"She was born in…"

Nancy slipped. She grabbed for a handhold that wasn't there. A spray of goop arched into the air as she hit the tank.

Wanda-Jean hugged herself with delight. She was caught in a blaze of lights. The booth was slowly lowered until it rested on the rim of the tank of mud. Bobby Priest, with due ceremony, and carrying a small hand mike, came across the floor to help her out. He was followed by his own blaze of glory.

He stretched out a hand. Their glories merged. He turned to the camera.

"And it's Wanda-Jean who makes it to the Dreamroad!"

Emoting with everything that she had, Wanda-Jean grabbed Bobby Priest and kissed him. "I can't believe it! I just can't believe it."