But a parachute descended, blowing away from the city. It would landnot too far from the highway he followed. And it didn't occur toCalhoun not to help the unknown chutist. He saw a small figure danglingbelow the chute. He slowed the ground-car as he estimated where theparachute would land.
He was off the twelve-lane highway and on a feeder road when the chutewas a hundred feet high. He was racing across a field of olive-greenplants that went all the way to the horizon when the parachute actuallytouched ground. There was a considerable wind. The man in the harnessbounced. He didn't know how to spill the air. The chute dragged him.
Calhoun sped ahead, swerved and ran into the chute. He stopped the carand the chute stopped with it. He got out.
The man lay in a hopeless tangle of cordage. He thrust unskilfully atit. When Calhoun came up he said suspiciously:
”Have you a knife?”
Calhoun offered a knife, politely opening its blade. The man slashedat the cords and freed himself. There was an attache case lashed tohis chute harness. He cut at those cords. The attache case not onlycame clear, but opened. It dumped out an incredible mass of brand new,tightly packed interstellar credit certificates. Calhoun could see thatthe denominations were one thousand and ten thousand credits. The manfrom the chute reached under his armpit and drew out a blaster.
It was not a service weapon. It was elaborate, practically a toy. Witha dour glance at Calhoun he put it in a side pocket and gathered upthe scattered money. It was an enormous sum, but he packed it back. Hestood up.
”My name is Allison,” he said in an authoritative voice. ”ArthurAllison. I'm much obliged. Now I'll ask you to take me to Maya City.”
”No,” said Calhoun politely. ”I just left there. It's deserted. I'm notgoing back. There's nobody there.”
”But I've important bus--” The other man stared. ”It's deserted? Butthat's impossible!”
”Quite,” agreed Calhoun, ”but it's true. It's abandoned. Uninhabited.Everybody's left it. There's no one there at all.”
The man who called himself Allison blinked unbelievingly. He swore.Then he raged profanely.
But he was not bewildered by the news. Which, upon consideration, wasitself almost bewildering. But then his eyes grew shrewd. He lookedabout him.
”My name is Allison,” he repeated, as if there were some sort of magicin the word. ”Arthur Allison. No matter what's happened, I've somebusiness to do here. Where have the people gone? I need to find them.”
”I need to find them too,” said Calhoun. ”I'll take you with me, if youlike.”
”You've heard of me.” It was a statement, confidently made.
”Never,” said Calhoun politely. ”If you're not hurt, suppose you get inthe car? I'm as anxious as you are to find out what's happened. I'm MedService.”
* * * * *
Allison moved toward the car.
”Med Service, eh? I don't think much of the Med Service! You peopletry to meddle in things that are none of your business!”
Calhoun did not answer. The muddy man, clutching the attache casetightly, waded through the olive-green plants to the car and climbedin. Murgatroyd said cordially, ”_Chee-chee!_” but Allison viewed himwith distaste.
”What's this?”
”He's Murgatroyd,” said Calhoun. ”He's a _tormal_. He's Med servicepersonnel.”
”I don't like beasts,” said Allison coldly.
”He's much more important to me than you are,” said Calhoun, ”if thematter should come to a test.”
Allison stared at him as if expecting him to cringe. Calhoun did not.Allison showed every sign of being an important man who expected hisimportance to be recognized and catered to. When Calhoun stirredimpatiently he got into the car and growled a little. Calhoun tookhis place. The ground-car hummed. It rose on the six columns of airwhich took the place of wheels and slid across the field of dark-greenplants, leaving the parachute deflated across a number of rows, and atrail of crushed-down plants where it had moved.
It reached the highway again. Calhoun ran the car up on the highway'sshoulder, and then suddenly checked. He'd noticed something.
He stopped the car and got out. Where the ploughed field ended, andbefore the coated surface of the highway began, there was a space whereon another world one would expect to see green grass.
On this planet grass did not grow; but there would normally be somesort of self-planted vegetation where there was soil and sunshine andmoisture. There had been such vegetation here, but now there was only athin, repellent mass of slimy and decaying foliage. Calhoun bent downto it.
It had a sour, faintly astringent smell of decay. These were theground-cover plants of Maya of which Calhoun had read. They had motilestems, leaves and flowers, and they had cannibalistic tendencies. Theywere the local weeds which made it impossible to grow grain for humanuse upon this world.
And they were dead.
Calhoun straightened up and returned to the car. Plants like this werewilted at the base of the spaceport building, and on another placewhere there should have been sward. Calhoun had seen a large deadmember of the genus in a florist's, that had been growing in a cagebefore it died. There was a singular coincidence here: humans ran awayfrom something, and something caused the death of a particular genusof cannibal weeds.
It did not exactly add up to anything in particular, and certainlywasn't evidence for anything at all. But Calhoun drove on in a vaguelypuzzled mood. The germ of a guess was forming in his mind. He couldn'tpretend to himself that it was likely, but it was surely no moreunlikely than most of a million human beings abandoning their homes ata moment's notice.