VI
The unconscious Geneva Jervis, lying crumpled up in the oversized furcoat, was the immediate problem. Don Cort straightened her out so shelay on her back, took off her shoes and propped her ankles on the lowerrung of a chair. He found she was wearing a belt and loosened it. It wasobvious that she was also wearing a girdle but there wasn't anything hewanted to do about that. He was rubbing one of her wrists when her eyesfluttered open.
She smiled self-consciously. "I guess I was a sissy."
"Not at all. I saw it, too. A pair of eyes."
"And a face! A horrible, horrible face."
"I wasn't sure about the face. Can you describe it?"
She darted a tentative look at the screen but it was comfortingly blank."It wasn't human. And it was staring right into me. It was awful!"
"Did it have a nose, ears, mouth?"
"I--I can't be sure. Let's get out of here. I'm all right now. Thanksfor being so good to me--Don."
"Don't mention it--Jen. Here, put your shoes on."
When he had closed the big wooden door behind them, Don padlocked itagain. He preferred to leave things as they'd found them, even thoughtheir visit to the observation room was no longer a secret.
He was relieved when they had scrambled up the steps under thegrandstand. There had been no sense of anyone or anything following themor spying on them during their long walk through the tunnel.
They were silent with their separate thoughts as they crossed the frostyground and Jen held Don's arm, more for companionship than support. Atthe campus the girl excused herself, saying she still felt shaky andwanted to rest in her room. Don went back to the dining room.
The meeting was over but Alis Garet was there, having a cup of tea andreading a book.
"Well, sir," she said, giving him an intent look, "how was therendezvous?"
"Fair to middling." He was relieved to see that she wasn't angry. "Didanybody say anything while I was gone?"
"Not a coherent word. You don't deserve it but I made notes for you.Running off with that redhead when you have a perfectly adequate blonde.Did you kiss her?"
"Of course not. It was strictly business. Let me see the notes, youangel."
"Notes, then." She handed over a wad of paper.
"Rubach," he read, "Magnology stuff stuff stuff etc. etc. Nothing.
"Q. (Conductor Jas Brown) Wht abt Mayor's proclamation Superior secededfrm Earth?
"A. (Civek) Repeated stuff abt discrimination agnst Spr & Cavlr & bublgum prices.
"Q. Wht u xpct gain?
"A. Stuff abt end discrimination.
"Q. Sovereignty?
"A. How's that?
"Q. R u trying set up Spr as separate city-state w/govt independent of US or Earth? ('That Conductor Brown is sharper than I gave him creditfor,' Alis elaborated.)
"A. Hem & haw. Well now.
"Q. Well, r u?
"A. (Father, rescuing Civek) Q of sovereignty must remain temporarilyup in the air. Laughter (Father's). When & if Spr returns wil acptstate-fed laws as b4 but meantime circs warrant adapt to prevailingconditions.
"Rest of mtg was abt sleeping arngmnts, meals, recreation privileges,clothing etc."
Don folded the notes and put them in his pocket. "Thanks. I see I didn'tmiss much. The only thing it seems to add is that Mayor Civek is afigurehead, and that if the Cavalier people know anything they're nottalking, except in gobbledygook."
"Check," Alis said. "Now let's go take a look at Pittsburgh."
"Pittsburgh?"
"That's where we are now. One of the students who lives there peepedover the edge a while ago. I was waiting for you to come back before Iwent to have a look."
"Pittsburgh?" Don repeated. "You mean Superior's drifting across theUnited States?"
"Either that or it's being pushed. Let's go see."
* * * * *
There hadn't been much to see and it had been too cold to watch forlong. The lights of Pittsburgh were beginning to go on in the dusk andthe city looked pretty and far away. A Pennsylvania Air National Guardplane came up to investigate, but from a respectful distance. Then itflew off.
Don left Alis, shivering, at her door and decided he wanted a drink. Heremembered having seen a sign, _Club Lyric_, down the street from the_Sentry_ office and he headed for it.
"Sergeant Cort," said a muffled voice under his collar.
Don jumped. He'd forgotten for the moment that he was a walking radiostation. "Yes?" he said.
"Reception has been excellent," the voice said. It was no longer that ofCaptain Simmons. "You needn't recapitulate. We've heard all yourconversations and feel we know as much as you do. You'll have to admitit isn't much."
"I'm afraid not. What do you want me to do now? Should I go back andinvestigate that underground room again? That seems to be the best leadso far."
"No. You're just a bank messenger whose biggest concern was to safeguardthe contents of the brief case. Now that the contents are presumably inthe bank vault your official worries are over, and though you're curiousto know why Superior's acting the way it is, you're willing to letsomebody else do something about it."
"But they saw me in the room. Those eyes, whatever they are. I had thefeeling--well, that they weren't human."
"Nonsense!" the voice from the Pentagon said. "An ordinaryclosed-circuit television hookup. Don't let your imagination run awaywith you, and above all don't play spy. If they're suspicious of anyoneit will be of Geneva Jervis because of her connection with SenatorThebold. Where are you going now?"
"Well, sir, I thought--that is, if there's no objection--I thought I'dgo have a drink. See what the townspeople are saying."
"Good idea. Do that."
"What are they saying in Washington? Does anybody put any stock in thismagnology stuff of Professor Garet's?"
"Facts are being collated. There's been no evaluation yet. You'll hearfrom us again when there's something to tell you. For now, Cort, carryon. You're doing a splendid job."
The streets were cold, dark, and deserted. The few street lights werefeeble and the lights in houses and other buildings seemed dimmer thannormal. A biting wind had sprung up and Don was glad when he saw theneon words _Club Lyric_ ahead.
The bartender greeted him cheerfully. "It ain't a fit night. What'll itbe?"
Don decided on a straight shot, to start. "What's going on?" he asked."Where's the old town going?"
The bartender shrugged. "Let Civek worry about that. It's what we payhim for, ain't it?"
"I suppose so. How're you fixed for liquor? Big supply?"
"Last a coupla weeks unless people start drinking more than usual.Beer'll run out first."
"That's right, I guess. But aren't you worried about being up in the airlike this?"
The bartender shrugged again. "Not much I can do about it, is there?Want another shot?"
"Mix it this time. A little soda. Is that the general attitude? Businessas usual?"
"I hear some business is picking up. Lot of people buying winterclothes, for one thing, weather turning cold the way it did. And DabneyBrothers--they run the coal and fuel oil company--got enough orders tokeep them going night and day for a week."
"That's fine. But when they eventually run out, like you, then what?Everybody freeze to death?"
The bartender made a thoughtful face. "You got something there. Oh,hello, Ed. Kinda brisk tonight."
It was Ed Clark, the newspaperman. Clark nodded to the bartender, whobegan to mix him a martini. "Freeze the ears off a brass monkey," Clarksaid, joining Don. "I have an extra pair of earmuffs if you'd likethem."
"Thanks," Don said, "but I think I'd better buy myself some winterclothes tomorrow and return yours."
"Suit yourself. Planning to settle down here?"
"I don't seem to have much choice. Anything new at your end?"
Clark lifted his brimming glass and took a sip. "Here's to a mildwinter. New? I guess you know we're in Pennsylvania now and not Ohio._Over_ P
ennsylvania, I should say. Don't ask me why, unless Hector Civekthinks Superior will get a better break, taxwise."
"You think the mayor's behind it all?"
"He has his delusions of grandeur, like a lot of people here. But I dothink Hector knows more than he's telling. Some of the merchants--mostlythose whose business hasn't benefited by the cold wave--have called ameeting for tomorrow. They want to pump him."
"He wasn't exactly a flowing spout at Cavalier this afternoon when thepeople from the train wanted answers."
"So that's where he was. They couldn't find him at Town Hall."
"Where's it all going to end? If we keep on drifting we'll be over theAtlantic--next stop Europe. Then Superior will be crossing nationalboundaries instead of just state lines, and some country may decidewe're violating its air space and shoot us out of the sky."
"I see you take the long view," Clark said.
"Is there any other?" Don asked. "The alternative is to kid ourselvesthat everything's all right and trust in Providence and Hector Civek.What is it with you people? You don't seem to realize that sixteensquare miles of solid earth, and three thousand people, have taken offto go waltzing through the sky. That isn't just something that happens.Something or somebody's making it happen. The question is who or what,and what are you going to do about it?"
The bartender said, "The boy's right, Ed. How do we know they won't takeus up higher--up where there's no air? Then we'd be cooked."
Clark laughed. "'Cooked' is hardly the word. But I agree that things aregetting out of hand." He set down his glass with a clink. "I know theman we want. Old Doc Bendy. He could stir things up. Remember the timethey tried to run the pipeline through town and Doc formed a citizenscommittee and stopped them?"
"Stopped them dead," the bartender recalled, then cleared his throat."Speak of the devil." He raised his voice and greeted the man who hadjust walked in. "Well, Doc. Long time since we've had the pleasure ofyour company. Nice to see you."
* * * * *
Doc Bendy was an imposing old gentleman of more than average height andmagnificent girth. He carried a paunch with authority. His hands, at theends of short arms, seemed to fall naturally to it, and he patted thepaunch with satisfaction as he spoke. He was dressed for the coldweather in an old frock coat, black turning green, with a double line ofoversized buttons down the front and huge eighteenth-century lapels. Hewore a battered black slouch hat which long ago had given up thepretense of holding any particular shape.
"Salutations, gentlemen!" Doc Bendy boomed, striding majestically towardthe bar. "They tell me our peripatetic little town has just passedPittsburgh. I'd have thought it more likely we'd crossed the ArcticCircle. Rum, bartender, is the only suitable potable for the occasion."
Clark introduced Don, who saw that close up Doc Bendy's face was fulland firm rather than fat. The nose had begun to develop the network ofvisible blood vessels which indicated a fondness for the bottle. Shaggywhite eyebrows matched the fringe of white hair that sprouted from underthe sides and back of the slouch hat. The eyes themselves were alertand humorous. The mouth rose subtly at the corners and, though Bendynever seemed to smile outright, it conveyed the same humor as the eyes.These two features, in fact, saved the old man from seeming pompous.
Don noticed that the rum the bartender poured for Bendy was 151 proofand the portion was a generous one.
Bendy raised his glass. "Your health, gentlemen." He took a sip and putit down. "I might also drink to a happy voyage, destination unknown."
"Don here thinks we're in danger of drifting over Europe."
"A distinct possibility," Bendy said. "Your passports are in order, Itrust? I remember the first time I went to the Continent. It was withBlack Jack Pershing and the AEF."
"Were you in the Medical Corps, sir?" Don asked.
Doc Bendy boomed with laughter, holding his paunch. "Bless your soul,lad, I'm no doctor. I was on the board of directors of Superior's firsthospital, hence the title. A mere courtesy, conferred on me by agrateful citizenry."
"The citizens might be looking to you again, Doc," Clark said, "sincetheir elected representatives are letting them down."
"But not _bringing_ them down, eh? Suppose you tell me what you know,Mr. Editor. I assume you're the best-informed man on the situation,barring the conspirators who have dragged us aloft."
"You think it's a conspiracy?"
"It's not an act of God."
Clark began to fill an ancient pipe, so well caked that the pencil withwhich he tamped the tobacco barely fitted into the bowl. By the time thepipe was ready for a match he had exhausted the solid facts. Don thentook over and described the underground passage he had seen thatafternoon. He was about to go further when the old man held up a hand.
"The facts only, if you please. Mr. Cort, what you saw in theunderground chamber fits in remarkably with something I stumbled on thisafternoon while I was skating."
"Skating?" Clark said.
"Ice skating. At North Lake. It's completely frozen over and I'm not sodecrepit that I can't glide on a pair of blades. Well, I was glidingalong, humming the _Skater's Waltz_, when I tripped over a stump. When Isaid I stumbled on something I was speaking literally, because I fellflat. While I lay there, with the breath knocked out of me, my face wasonly an inch from the ice and I realized I was eye-to-eye with a thing.Just as you were, Mr. Cort."
"You mean there was something under the ice?"
"Exactly. Staring up at me. Balefully, I suppose you could say, as if itresented my presence."
"Did you see the whole face?"
"I'd be embroidering if I said yes. It seemed--but I must stick to thefacts. I saw only the eyes. Two perfectly circular eyes, which glared atme for a moment, then disappeared."
"It could have been a fish," Clark said.
"No. A fish is about the most expressionless thing there is, while theseeyes had intelligence behind them. None of your empty, fishy stares."
Clark knocked his pipe against the edge of the bar so the ashes fell inthe vicinity of an old brass cuspidor. "So, since what you and Don sawwere both under the surface, we could put two and two together andassume that some kind of alien beings have taken up residence inSuperior's lower levels?"
"Only if you think two and two make five," Doc Bendy said. "But even ifthey don't, there's a great deal more going on than Civek knows, or theGaret-Rubach crowd at Cavalier will admit. It seems to me, gentlemen,that it's time I set up a committee."