hadn't even known him in--IN NEW ALBANY!
* * * * *
Roger Strang was on his feet, shaking, cold fear running through hisbody, his nerves screaming. Had they ruined his mind? He couldn'tthink straight any more. Telling him things that weren't true, forcinglies into his mind--frightening him with the horrible conviction thathis mind was really helpless, full of false data. What had happened tohim? Where had the thought of "New Albany" come from? He shivered, nowthoroughly frightened. There wasn't any "New Albany." Nowhere in theworld. There just _wasn't_ any such place.
_Could he have two memories? Conflicting memories?_
He walked shakily to the door, peered through the small peephole. Inthe morning they would try again, they had said. He shuddered,terribly afraid. He had felt his mind cracking under the lastquestioning; another would drive him completely insane. But Drengowould have the answers. Why had he shot little Davey? How did that fitin? Was this false-credential business part of some stupendous schemeagainst him? Impossible! But what else? He knew with sudden certainconviction that he must see Martin Drengo, immediately, before theyquestioned him again, before the fear and uncertainty drove him out ofhis mind. He called tentatively through the peephole, half-hoping tocatch a guard's attention. And the call echoed through silent halls.
And then he heard Ann's voice, clear, cool, sharp in the prisondarkness. Roger whirled, fear choking the shouts still ringing in hisears, gaped at the woman who stood in his cell--
She was lovelier than he had ever seen her, her tiny body clothed in aglowing fabric which clung to every curve, accenting her trim figure,her slender hips. Brown hair wreathed her lovely face, and Rogerchoked as the deep longing for her welled up in his throat.Speechlessly he took her in his arms, holding her close, burying hisface in her hair, sobbing in joy and relief. And then he saw theglowing circle behind her, casting its eerie light into the farcorners of the dark cell. In fiery greenness the ring shimmered in anaurora of violent power, but Ann paid no attention to it. She steppedback and smiled at him, her eyes bright. "Don't be frightened," shesaid softly, "and don't make any noise. I'm here to help you."
"But where did you come from?" The question forced itself out in asort of strangled gasp.
"We have--means of going where we want to. And we want you to comewith us." She pointed at the glowing ring. "We want to take you backto the time-area from which you came."
Roger goggled at her, confusion welling strong into his mind again."Ann," he said weakly. "What kind of trick is this?"
She smiled again. "No trick," she said. "Don't ask questions, darling.I know you're confused, but there isn't much time. You'll just have todo what I say right now." She turned to the glowing ring. "We juststep through here. Be careful that you don't touch the substance ofthe portal going through."
Roger Strang approached the glowing ring curiously, peered through,blinked, peered again. It was like staring at an inscrutableflat-black surface in the shadow. No light reflected through it;nothing could be seen. He heard a faint whining as he stood close tothe ring, and he looked up at Ann, his eyes wide. "You can't seethrough it!" he exclaimed.
Ann was crouching on the floor near a small metallic box, gentlyturning knobs, checking the dial reading against a small chronometeron her wrist. "Steady, darling," she said. "Just follow me, carefully,and don't be afraid. We're going back home--to the time-area where webelong. You and I. I know--you don't remember. And you'll be puzzled,and confused, because the memory substitution job was very thorough.But you'll remember Martin Drengo, and John Morrel, and me. And I wasyour wife there, too--Are you ready?"
Roger stared at the ring for a moment. "Where are we going?" he asked."How far ahead? Or behind--?"
"Ahead," she said. "Eighty years ahead--as far as we can go. That willbring us to the present time, the _real_ present time, as far as we,and you, are concerned."
She turned abruptly, and stepped through the ring, and vanished aseffectively as if she had disintegrated into vapor. Roger felt fearcatch at his throat; then he followed her through.
They were standing in a ruins. The cell was gone, the prison, theBarrier Base. The dark sky above was bespeckled with a myriad ofstars, and a cool night breeze swept over Roger's cheek. Far in thedistance a low rumble came to his ears. "Sounds like a storm coming,"he muttered to Ann, pulling his jacket closer around him.
"No storm," she said grimly. "Look!" She pointed a finger toward thenorthern horizon. Brazen against the blackness the yellow-orange offire was rising, great spurts of multi-colored flames licking at thehorizon. The rumble became a drone, a roar. Ann grasped Roger's armand pulled him down to cover in the rubble as the invisible squadronswished across the sky, trailing jet streams of horrid orange behindthem. Then to the south, in the direction of the flight, the drone ofthe engines gave way to the hollow boom-booming of bombing, and thesouthern horizon flared. Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, therumble died away, leaving the flames licking the sky to the north andsouth.
Roger shivered. "War," he said. "Eurasia?"
She shook her head. "If only it were. There is no Eurasia now. Thedictator took care of that. Nothing but gutted holes, and rubble." Shestood up, helping Roger to his feet. Together they filed through therubbish down to a roadway. Ann dialed a small wrist radio; in a fewmoments, out of the dark sky, the dim-out lights of a small 'coptercame into view, and the machine settled delicately to the road. Twostrange men were inside; they saluted Ann, and helped Roger aboard.Swiftly they clamped down the hatch tight, and the ship rose againsilently into the air.
"Where are we going?" asked Roger Strang.
"We have a headquarters. Our data must be checked first. We can'treach a decision without checking. Then we can talk."
The 'copter swung high over the blazing inferno of a city far below.Strang glanced from the window, eyes widening at the holocaust. Thecrater holes were mammoth, huge spires of living flame rising to thesky, leaving mushroom columns of gray-black smoke that glowed an evilred from the furnace on the ground. "Not Eurasia?" Roger askedsuddenly, his mind twisting in amazement. "But who? This is America,isn't it?"
"Yes. This is America. There is no Eurasia now. Soon there may not bean America. Nor even an Earth."
Roger looked up at Ann, eyes wide. "But those jet-planes--thebombing--_who is doing the bombing?_"
Ann Strang stared down at the sullen red fires of the city for amoment, her quiet eyes sad. "Those are Martian planes," she said.
* * * * *
The 'copter settled silently down into the heart of the city, glowingred from the flames and bombing. They hovered over the shining Palace,still tall, and superb, and intact, gleaming like a blood-streakedjewel in the glowing night. The 'copter settled on the roof of a lowbuilding across a large courtyard from the glittering Palace. AnnStrang stepped out, and motioned Roger to follow down a shaft andstairway into a small room below. She knocked at a door, and a strangeman dressed in the curious glowing fabric opened it. His face lit upin a smile.
"Roger!" he cried. "We were afraid we couldn't locate you. We weren'texpecting the Security to meddle. Someone got suspicious, somewhere,and began checking your references from their sources--and of coursethey were false. We were lucky to get you back at all, after Securitygot you." He clapped Roger on the back, and led him into the room.
John Morrel and Martin Drengo were standing near the rounded window,their faces thrown into grotesque relief against the red-orange glowoutside. They turned and saluted, and Roger almost cried out, his mindspinning, a thousand questions cutting into his consciousness,demanding answers. But quite suddenly he was feeling a new power, anew effectiveness in his thinking, in his activity. He turned toMartin Drengo, his eyes questioning but no longer afraid. "What yearis this?" he asked.
"This is 2165. March, 2165, and you're in New Albany, in the UnitedStates of North America. This is the city where you were born, thecity you loved--and look at it!"
Roger walked
to the window. The court below was full of people now,ragged people, some of them screaming, a disconsolate muttering risingfrom a thousand throats--burned people, mangled people. They milledabout the mammoth courtyard before the glorious Palace, aimlessly,mindlessly. Far down the avenue leading from the Palace Roger couldsee the people evacuating the city, a long, desolate line of people,strange autos, carts, even animals, running down the broad avenue toescape from the flaming city.
"We're not in danger here," said Drengo, at his elbow. "No fire norbomb can reach us here--that is the result of your mighty AtlanticCoast