McBride shook his head. "That's too far. What would you say," he continued speculatively, "to a roller-coaster?"
"Are you crazy?"
"It could be a recording too, couldn't it?" insisted McBride. "Why is that crazy?"
"Because it's not a roller-coaster."
"How do you know?"
"I think I can tell. Stop playing detective."
"When's the last time you rode on one?"
"A million years ago. But it's too steady. There's no acceleration. What more do you want? I'm going to laugh. Let's call it a train," continued Yossarian, as the vehicle came abreast and rolled away to the left. It might have been the Metroliner going down from Boston to Washington, but McBride would know that. And when he considered a roller-coaster, he did start to laugh, for he remembered that he had already lived much longer than he ever thought he would.
He stopped laughing when he saw the catwalk and railing running along the wall about three feet from the bottom and disappearing into the white-misted, golden obscurity of the enclosures on both sides.
"Was that down there all the time?" He was puzzled. "I thought I was hallucinating when I noticed it just now."
"It's been there," said McBride.
"Then I must have been hallucinating when I imagined it wasn't. Let's get the hell out."
"I want to go down there," said McBride.
"I won't go with you," Yossarian told him.
He had never liked surprises.
"Aren't you curious?"
"I'm afraid of the dogs."
"You said," said McBride, "it was only a recording."
"That might scare me more. Go with Tom. That's his business."
"It's not on Tommy's beat. I'm not even supposed to be here," McBride admitted. "I'm supposed to enforce these restrictions, not violate them. Notice anything now?" he added, as they turned back up the stairs.
On the inside of the metal door Yossarian now saw two solid locks, one spring loaded, the other dead bolt. And above the locks, under a rectangle of lacquer, he saw a block of white printing on a scarlet background framed in a thin margin of silver, that read:
EMERGENCY EXIT
NO ADMITTANCE
THIS DOOR MUST BE LOCKED AND BOLTED WHEN IN USE
Yossarian scratched his head. "From this side it looks like they want to keep people out, don't they?"
"Or in?"
He would guess, he guessed, as they proceeded outside, that it was an old bomb shelter that was not on the old plans. He could not explain the signs, he admitted, as McBride closed the fire door quietly and conscientiously switched off the electric light to leave everything the same as when they had come. The dogs, the sound of the killer guard dogs? "To scare people out, I guess, like that addict, and you and me. Why did you want me to see it?"
"To let you know. You seem to know everything."
"I don't know this one."
"And you're someone I trust."