13
John Dennis showed human surprise as Frank Corson lunged at him. He hadeither been lax in using the controlling power he'd been given, or elseFrank Corson had an exceptional resistance.
Dennis released Rhoda, swayed drunkenly under Frank Corson's clumsyfootball-type tackle, and swung his arm like a pivoting beam. The blowwas a lucky one. His fist smashed low on Corson's jaw, numbing thenerves of his neck on the left side.
Corson went down and, as he lay helpless, Dennis kicked him twice--oncein the side and once, viciously effectively, in the head. Corson rolledover and lay still.
Dennis looked down at him in a drunken daze. "They will make an army andbring it here."
Rhoda, standing in the center of an emotional maelstrom, watched thestruggle from the prison of her own horror. At that moment she wasphysically, mentally and spiritually ill; a human being caught in themidst of forces beyond her knowledge and control.
Dennis laid a heavy hand on her shoulder. "I want to make love."
"No--no. Please--"
The drunkenness ebbed slightly and his eyes emptied. They looked intoRhoda's. She shivered. He took the neck of her brunch coat in his fistand jerked downward. She had just come from the shower when she'd firstopened the door for Frank Corson, and the vicious denuding gesture lefther completely naked.
Dennis went clumsily to his knees, his arms around her, and he pulledher to the floor. She sobbed, but the tears were gone now and they weredry, wracking sobs.
"Undress me."
She fumbled with his jacket and pulled it off while he knelt there inanticipation of he knew not what; wondering, wanting, knowing only anurge he could not understand but which had become a compulsion.
She took off his necktie and unbuttoned his shirt. Frank Corson stirredbut did not regain consciousness. "Please," Rhoda said, "let me helphim."
In answer, Dennis put his arms around her and drew her to him. "We willmake love."
"Yes--yes, we will make love--"
The ring of the doorbell was like thunder in the room. Dennis tensed,his eyes widened, and he got to his feet and stood swaying. Looking upat him, Rhoda saw a trapped animal, but the excitement was still thereand she wanted to take him in her arms and hold him and protect him fromthe world.
But he had forgotten her. A cunning sneer took the place of theslavering animal look and he ran to the kitchen to reappear momentslater with a butcher knife in his hand.
The bell rang again. Dennis snarled at the door and, in some kind ofsheer ecstatic bravado, emitted a Tarzan roar.
Instantly a weight hit the door from the outside. It shuddered but didnot give. Dennis crouched, gripping his knife. Frank Corson staggered tohis feet and hurled himself groggily at the android. Dennis roaredagain, pushed away and arced the knife at his throat.
Rhoda screamed and lunged at Dennis' legs. "No! No! Stop it! Please!"
Dennis teetered under her weight and the knife slanted downward acrossFrank's chest. It ripped a red gash as the door shuddered a third time.
Dennis turned in that direction and crouched. The door splintered andflew open. Dennis lunged, like a line-bucking football player. He hitboth Brent Taber and Captain Abrams simultaneously, sprawling them bothand sending Abrams' gun spinning out of his hand.
He leaped over them and dashed down the hall where the elevator manwaited uncertainly, not sure whether to dispute the right of way or not.His indecision was fatal. Dennis wrapped an arm around his neck, pulledhis head back and cut his throat with one slash of the knife.
Captain Abrams' head had hit a doorjamb opposite the entrance to Rhoda'sapartment. He stirred and tried to come erect but he was unable to makeit.
Brent Taber clawed the gun off the floor and came to one knee. He gotoff one shot as the elevator door was closing and saw the android spinaway from the controls as the impact of the slug smashed the bone of hisshoulder.
Taber lunged to his feet and went for the stairs.
There was no one in the lobby when he arrived there--no dead bodies,either. But on the sidewalk, in front of the building, a woman lay deadin a pool of blood.
In a sick rage, Taber looked in both directions and saw the android divethrough a group of people half a block away. He tipped them over liketenpins and ran on. Taber gripped the gun tight and started in pursuit.
He could not fire because there was enough sidewalk traffic to make itdangerous. On ahead, the android's path was blocked by a man. He soughtto get clear but the android passed him close enough to jam the knifeinto his neck and send him screaming to the sidewalk.
A uniformed patrolman appeared on the other side of the street, furtherdown. He took the situation in and understood Taber's frantic gesture. Acar screamed to a halt as the patrolman raced across the street, drawinghis gun.
The android, seeing his escape cut off, veered into an areaway. Thepatrolman got there first and plunged in after him.
Taber, gasps tearing at his lungs, arrived thirty seconds later. Duringthat time, he'd expected the sound of shots from the patrolman's gun.But there was silence.
He braked on his heels, skidded into the areaway, and saw the androidadvancing on the patrolman. The latter stood motionless, the gun hanginguseless at his side.
"Drop! Drop!" Taber yelled. He cursed as he tried to angle in the narrowareaway in order to get a clear shot.
The android advanced with his knife raised. In desperation, Taber firedat the lethal fist that held the weapon. And he was lucky. The handsnapped open under the ripping impact of the bullet and the knife rangsharply against the wall as it ricocheted to the ground.
Only then, did the patrolman obey the order to drop. He went to one kneeand Brent Taber fired three shots into the chest of the android.
He hesitated. There was only one slug left in the revolver. If the threedidn't spot the android, he planned to wait for closer contact and putthe sixth slug into the forehead.
The android shuddered. The fire and frenzy went out of him. He tried tolift a leg and was surprised when it didn't move. He looked down at it.Completely bemused, he peered down at his crimson chest. He looked up atTaber without anger, only with surprise. A distinct expression ofwistful regret crossed his face as he sank to the ground.
The tenth android was dead.
The patrolman came shakily to his feet. His face was as pale as death."I--I don't know what happened. Buck fever. Pure buck fever, and I'vebeen on the force for ten years."
"Don't worry about it," Taber said.
"Don't _worry_. All of a sudden I freeze under pressure and he says,'Don't worry.'"
"I meant it. This is no ordinary man. It wasn't buck fever at all. Icouldn't have faced him myself if I hadn't rattled him with that luckyshot."
The patrolman wanted to believe. He most pathetically wanted to believe."Honest?"
"It's the God's honest truth. No man could have stood in front of thatkiller and pulled a trigger. He's a master hypnotist. You're all right.We won't say a word about what happened in here. And you'll have notrouble in the future."
The patrolman shook his head. "Still, I gotta do something about it."
"Talk to your psychiatrist," Taber said. "In the meantime, keep thatcrowd out there from spilling in here."
Taber pushed out through the choked entrance to the areaway and wentback up the street. It was alive with activity now and he passedunnoticed. No one recognized him as the man who had given chase in thebloody business that would make headlines that evening in every New Yorknewspaper.
And yet the radio and TV news commentators gave it no special attention.It went in along with other items of the day's news as a more or lessroutine big-city happening.
One national-hookup headliner stated: "In New York City today, a manidentified as John Dennis, address unknown, went berserk in afashionable Upper East Side apartment. Dennis, wielding a knife, killeda man and a woman, and seriously wounded another man before he was cutdown by police bullets.
"A jet airliner, down in the North Atlan
tic today, imperiled the livesof seventy-six ..."
* * * * *
Frank Corson lay propped on two pillows in a private room of the ParkHill Hospital. Rhoda Kane sat in a chair beside the bed. She was paleand very beautiful. The fire was now gone from her body and the feverfrom her eyes.
"They say he wasn't human. They say he was an android." She shuddered,looked down quickly, then slowly raised her head.
"Yes."
"I'll--I'll never understand. I get sick thinking about it. I'll justnever understand."
"He was human and yet not human. He had extraordinary powers that wedon't begin to understand, so that what happened to you is no disgrace."
"It's a terrible disgrace."
"It happened to me, too. When he told me to sit down I had to do it. Iwas helpless."
"But you fought! You overcame it."
Frank Corson smiled wryly. "No, I didn't. It was just that he'd hadlittle time to work on me. It was a single mental blow, so to speak,that laid me out. Like one punch in the ring. Gradually, I came out ofit."
"I think I _tried_ to fight."
"Of course, you did. The disgrace was mine. I acted like a child. Ishould have realized that something extraordinary had happened. But Inursed my miserable little ego like a three-year-old."
"How could you know? My cruelty to you--"
"Don't talk like that! I knew about the ninth android, and I met thetenth one in front of your apartment that second morning. I should haveassociated. Brent Taber did, otherwise we might both be dead."
"It's all over now. It doesn't make any difference."
"No, it doesn't make any difference."
She looked at him in silence for several moments. "You've changed,Frank."
"Yes, I guess I have. I guess we all grow up eventually. We all facereality and live with it."
"Frank--I think I'm going to cry."
He could not turn his eyes in her direction. He looked straight aheadbut his voice was soft. "Go ahead, Rhoda. I understand."
They were silent for a time, then Rhoda began to cry quietly into herhandkerchief. After a while even that sound was stilled.
He turned to look at her. She was standing beside the bed. He almostreached out and took her hand, but drew his own back at the last minute.
"How soon will you be leaving?" she asked.
"The wound was superficial. I really didn't need to be hospitalized. I'mbeing released tomorrow morning. I'll probably leave immediately."
"You'll make a fine doctor, Frank."
"Thank you, I'll try."
"Good-bye, Frank."
"Good-bye--darling."
She turned and fled.
And judging by the deep sadness in his soul, he knew he had hit bottom.
There was no place to go but up.
* * * * *
Brent Taber's phone rang.
"Hello, Taber. Halliday here."
"How are you, Halliday."
"Tops, old man. Ragged by the stress of it all, of course, but tops."
Taber waited. Halliday waited. Seeing that he would get no help, hesaid, "By the way, that little ... misunderstanding we had, the SenatorCrane thing, I'm sure you realized that our talk was ... well, the wordswere put into my mouth. I felt the same way about the oaf as you did.But sometimes, in the line of duty, old man ... well, I know you werereading between my lines all the time."
"I'm pretty good at that."
"I knew we understood each other."
"Is that what you called about?"
"Yes, but I've got a little tip for you. They want to see you upstairs.I happen to know they liked the way things turned out. Just between youand me, the humiliation of Crane made certain high officials prettyhappy. I was queried and I gave you all the credit."
"Before or after the good Senator fell on his face?"
Halliday laughed. "Okay, pal. You're entitled to your little dig. Butyou know this--I'm with you and I always will be."
"And I'm with you, too, pal," Brent said wearily and hung up.
The phone rang again. Automatically, Brent picked up the receiver.
"Brent? Porter on this end. How is it with you, old man?"
"Ducky. Just ducky."
Porter laughed. "Just called to say, 'Good job well done.'"
"Thanks."
"Want to give you a little tip, too. They want you upstairs. Acommendation. Not generally known, though. And you deserve it. You'll becalled up tomorrow."
"You never know the day or the hour."
The laugh came again. "You're humor is priceless, old man."
"Isn't it?"
"Another thing--I got pretty hot when I got wind of how the ground wasbeing cut out from under you. I made it my business to do somethingabout it. I hate to see a good man pushed around. Of course I okayed theorders cutting you down--a matter of routine--I had to follow through.But then I got busy. A thing like that won't happen again."
"Thanks, Porter. It warms a man to know he's got a friend--a friend likeyou."
"Just between us, old man, I'm one of your admirers." Porter laughed andsprayed charm through the phone like perfume from an atomizer. "But ifyou quote me, I'll deny it."
"Oh, I wouldn't think of quoting you, old man," Taber replied in akindly voice and put down the phone.
He sat back and closed his eyes. Three people dead. One person maimed.Blood in the streets.
Good job well done.
He opened a drawer of his desk and reached for the Scotch bottle.
* * * * *
At the Newark Airport he would not trust his suitcase to a porterbecause the leather loop holding one side of the handle was very thinand he was afraid it would break.
Once he had been ashamed of the shabbiness of the bag and had planned tobuy a new one, but now there was an affinity between them, a kind ofwarmth.
Were they companions in misery?
He asked the question with a quick smile and then realized he was notmiserable. A little bleak of mind, perhaps, with Minnesota and what layahead affording no glow of anticipation in his mind. But that wouldpass. No, he had relegated the hurt to a mental pigeonhole; maybe hewould bring it out and look at it once in a while, after enough time hadpassed.
But he was not miserable.
He went to the counter, checked in, and they told him his plane wouldtake off on time. He glanced at his watch. Thirty-two minutes.
He went back to the bench and found Rhoda Kane sitting beside hissuitcase.
She wore a plain, black suit with a ridiculous little black hat and shewas so beautiful he was angry with her. He hated her. This good-byewasn't necessary. Why had she come?
Her face was pale and drawn; her smile was as abstract as the mystery onthe lips of the Mona Lisa. She laid a hand on the suitcase.
"We had our first quarrel over it, remember? We went to Puerto Rico forthat week and I wanted to use mine but you said, 'Goddamn it, if you'reashamed of my suitcase you're ashamed of me, so the hell with it.'"
"I remember."
He sat down beside her, lit a cigarette, and then dropped it on thefloor and stepped on it. They both looked straight ahead.
"Take me with you, Frank."
"That's impossible."
"I know, but take me with you."
"There will be no money. I'll live in a stuffy room somewhere."
"What difference does that make? Take me."
"You have your job. You're on the way up. It would be unthinkable."
"I don't have any job. I quit. I was halfway through a piece ofcopy--very important copy--and I got up and walked into Mr. Frankel'soffice. I said, 'Mr. Frankel, it's been very nice working for you. Iappreciate all you've done but I'm leaving now. The pencils are allsharpened on my desk and the next girl can have the new leather-boundaddress book in the lower right hand drawer that I bought but neverused! That was a silly thing to say, wasn't it?"
"I suppose s
o."
"And the way I phrased it. I actually said I'd bought the lower righthand drawer and hadn't used it--take me with you, Frank."
"Rhoda, I was so wrong in--"
"_I_ was wrong, Frank. I was trying to mold you into my way of life. Iwanted you, but only as a part of my own eager little world. I had moneyso I furnished my apartment. I put this here and that there, and hung atoothbrush over the sink as necessarily functional, and then I decided Ineeded a man in the same way and so I picked you.
"But I found out that the man in the bed was the most important part ofit and without him there wasn't anything. Without him I didn't want anyof the other. Now ... I want to be a wife. A wife is a person who goeswhere her husband goes and lives where he lives and shares what he has.You don't barter and trade--this for that--give up this part to getthat. You give up everything and yet it isn't like that at all becauseyou're really getting everything."
He took out another cigarette.
"Oh, Frank, it's all mixed up and I'm going to cry, I think."
"It's not mixed up at all," he said quietly. He turned to look at her,half frowning, half smiling. "Now why in the hell couldn't you havegiven me a little notice? Twenty minutes to plane time and I've got toget another reservation."
"I'm sorry, Frank."
"Maybe there isn't a seat."
"Wouldn't that be terrible?"
"Then we'll have to wait over."
"Why don't you go and see?"
Five minutes later they were walking down the west tunnel to gatetwenty-six.
Frank Corson grinned. "Come on, woman, I'm going to take you acrossstate lines for immoral purposes."
"How wonderful," she breathed.
* * * * *
Brent Taber was human and his triumph had been a thing of satisfactionto him--but only momentarily. Now it had a slightly sour taste.
Not that he was unhappy. He was content and almost relaxed as he sat inDoctor Entman's patio and worked on a Scotch and soda.
"A nice night," Entman said.
"Beautiful. Those stars are about ready to fall into our laps."
"Menace out there? It seems unthinkable."
"Doesn't it?"
"The human animal is a strange creature. He's so capable of refusing tobelieve what he doesn't want to believe."
"Maybe he's smarter than we think. Maybe there's no point in looking ata pending disaster from every angle. The what-will-be-will-be attitudeisn't necessarily like that of the ostrich which sticks its head in thesand."
"Do the people inside really believe?" Entman asked.
"It's pretty difficult to tell. Sometimes I wonder what my own realfeelings are."
"I wasn't completely briefed on how it ended," Entman said delicately.
"I think the phony specifications got through."
"If they did--if things are really as they appear--"
Taber smiled in the darkness. "Are _you_ beginning to doubt, Doctor?"
"Oh, be quiet," Entman said with friendly petulance. "I was going to saythat I was rather proud of those details. If our hostiles out therefollow my specifications, they'll create androids with much smallerlungs and non-porous skin that will give them no end of trouble whenthey start chasing frightened householders down the streets of theworld."
Taber chuckled. "I remember a story about the Japanese Navy. They weresupposed to have built some ships to specifications stolen in England.When launched, they slid out into the bay and tipped over."
Entman sighed. "I wish I could get some of the data those creaturesused in the construction of the androids."
"You'd like to make one of your own?"
"It would solve the servant problem. Terrible here in Washington."
"Labor unions would holler bloody murder."
"You can't stop progress."
Suddenly Entman got to his feet. He walked to the edge of the patio andlooked upward. Taber saw his face in the light streaming from the livingroom--he seemed frightened.
"Brent! It's such a helpless feeling. What do we do?"
Brent Taber got up and went over and stood beside Entman. He, too,looked up into the velvet night; the beautiful, quiet, impersonal night.
The sinister night.
"We watch the stars," Brent said. "And we wait."
THE END
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