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It was ten minutes to twelve. Summersby was panting like a spent hound.He had not exercised in months, not since the doctors had told him hisheart was just about gone, and he was surprised that he hadn't keeledover before now. Dashing around playing guerrilla like somesix-year-old! It had been a damn good idea, though. The giantchildren--there were two of them today--were still enthralled, lying ontheir bellies with their furry watermelon heads propped in fantastictwo-thumbed hands.
Leaning against a pink plastic maze wall, puffing, he thought, I'vealmost grown to like them. Why?
Because for the first time since he was sixteen, John Summersby had tobend his neck back to look up at someone. These grotesque humanoidalbeings were the only living things which did not make him feelovergrown, uncouthly out of proportion, a hulking lout. If a chair wastoo narrow for him, it would be like the head of a pin to one of thesekids: if a fork felt uncomfortably small in his own hand, it would be aminikin indeed in one of those vast paws.
In their shadows, Summersby was a very small man. It was an unwontedsensation, the most satisfying he had ever experienced.
He looked at them out there, as they lay watching Mrs. Full and Adammowing down Cal and Villa with imaginary Brownings. He grinned, felt hislips curve in the unaccustomed grimace, and thought with no particularbitterness that he was getting mellow in his last days. "Hello,High-pockets," he said softly to the kid that owned him. "How's theweather up there?"
At five to noon the door opened. Summersby, seeing its silent motion,left off the mimic gunplay and started for the wall, where he couldintercept Watkins and find out whether he'd been successful. But thesafe-cracker came running down the middle of the room, yelling.
"Come on, everybody!"
"Come on?"
The two giant children were on their feet, uncertain of what washappening. Obviously they didn't realize Watkins had been out of theroom at all.
"The adults spotted me!" roared the blond man, swinging his briefcasewildly; where had he found that? "They're after me!"
Summersby let out an involuntary grunt when through the twenty-foot doorcame an eighteen-foot creature, a thing so mind-shakingly huge that eventhe ranger's size complex wasn't pleased by it. This was an adult:leaner in the body, broader of hand and thicker of limb, wearingtrouserlike garments and a flaring jacket of royal purple caught by aruby bar, it advanced calmly into the hall, clumping flat-footed inthree yard strides. From its heavy-lipped gash of a mouth came noiseslike a whole orchestra badly in need of tuning.
"Hwhrangg!" it cried, waving its hands in the air. "Breemingg!" Itappeared to be soothing the children, telling them that Daddy was here.
* * * * *
Mrs. Full, on the control platform, screamed. Her husband ran to her,Summersby stepped out irresolute, Adam stood stunned. But PorfirioVilla, afire with the heady make-believe carnage of the afternoon, wasas quick to act as his fourth cousin Pancho could have been. A dozenwaddling leaps, a swift swing of his legs over the side, and the Mexicanlanded in the little red vehicle with the vast control board, the carthat only he had been able to master. Pressing buttons, pullingplungers, sliding levers, he whirled it around and sent it at thetowering adult.
The beast skipped out of his way, blaring anger; he came about sharply,gunned his "motor"--if it was that--and rammed the gigantean enemy onthe leg. There was the clear sharp snap of bone breaking. As Villa's caroverturned, the creature fell at full length, with a crash like anelephant dropping out of a tree. It contracted its body and gripped itsankle with both hands, honking dismally.
Summersby was running. He skidded up to the groveling Villa, yanked himto his feet and shoved him out of range of the injured beast. The twochildren had broken into the barks that were their equivalent ofweeping, one drawing its goading rod. Summersby crouched, went towardit, hoping to bring it down before it stunned him. As he came withindiving range, though, the orange airship streaked over his head andjammed its nose into the child's belly. It folded over with a whoosh,grabbing its middle, as the toy wobbled off in eccentric flight.
Mrs. Full, the expert at flying the miniature vessel, was hecticallyjamming her blocks along their metal rods; something had gone wrong withthe mechanism at the crash. Her husband hauled her off the seat andrushed her toward the door.
The remaining child stood in the middle of the floor, staring at itsgroaning, breathless playmate and at the maimed adult, honking a littlefrightened song to itself. Skirting it, the humans made for the door asfast as they could go.
Summersby overtook Watkins. "I found it okay," panted the crook.
"Can you work it?" They were through the door now, the two of them inthe lead, running across the first of the rooms.
"There were other adults," said Watkins. "Three or four saw me. I don'tknow where they went."
"_Can you work it?_"
"The matter transmitter?" He grinned briefly. "Sure. There's twoprinciples I don't get, but--"
The doorway before them was crowded by several of the giants. They camethrough, not hurrying, talking rather placidly; their movements had theswiftness of the children's without their jerkiness. In their hands weregreen goads. They pointed and came down upon the humans.
"Scatter!" yelled Summersby, and dodged under the shelf of the machinewhere he had taken cover last night. He went to the end. In seconds theywould be peering under the shelf, spotting him, thrusting in theirshockers and laying him out. And, damn it all, he cared! He didn't wantto be stopped when so much of the fight was won. His heart might stop,he couldn't help that, but till it did he wanted to go on fighting.Balling his fists, he started to leave the sanctuary. Then he heard AdamPierce begin to sing.
He had a high tenor voice, mellow with a sweet touch of huskiness in it,and he was singing "Drink to Me Only" at the top of his lungs.
He hadn't gone crazy! Summersby remembered the punishments they hadendured for making harmonious noises on the musical toy, the slap Adamgot for singing, the agonies the kids had gone through at Earth-typemelody. Adam had thought of the only weapon they could use--_song_.
"Or leave a kiss within the cup," roared Summersby, and without furtherthought walked into the room. Watkins had chimed in now, breathless buttrue of pitch.
Three eighteen-foot brutes were standing there. Vast hands were pressedto bulbous heads, and agonized croaks came from gaping mouths. Whatevera tune did to them, it wasn't pleasant. What weird auricular structurecould cringe so from a simple song? It did, and that was enough.
Mrs. Full clutched his arm. "One of them struck Calvin with his prod,"she wailed.
"Where is he?"
"Near that door."
Beginning to sing again, Summersby pelted for the prone milk inspector.He picked him up and slung him, limp as a dead doe, over his leftshoulder. The others were gathering. He motioned them forward, and, asWatkins joined him, ran on.
"Where'd you find your case?"
"On a table. Hope the dough is all in there." He glanced back. "They'recoming. We're racking 'em but they're game."
The woman, Adam and Villa were right behind them. As they reached themidpoint of the third room, the dining hall, one of the beings staggeredthrough the door behind them. It had lost its goad and was flatteningits hands on its skull as Adam and Mrs. Full swung into "Dixie." It cameat them like a drunk, unable to navigate a straight course butdetermined to reach them. It'll stamp on us, thought Summersby, easingFull back a little on his arm. It only has to come down once or twicewith that Cadillac-sized foot and we're squashed ants. He sang.
"To live and die in...."
The second brute appeared, lurched over and fell on the table, caught upa flat trencher and skimmed it at them. It was as big as a bathtub."Drop!" cried Summersby, went to one knee, felt the wind of thetrencher's passing ruffle his hair.
The next door was closed. Summersby slammed himself flat against thewall and Adam, cat-lithe and fast, scrambled up over him, stood on hisshoulders and broke the
controlling beam. The aliens came down the roomlike two epileptic furies. "Sing!" said Watkins. "Everybody!" The doorslid aside with maddening slowness.
"Try a fast one," said Mrs. Full. "'Blow the Man Down.'" It was a funnysuggestion, coming from her. Summersby actually chuckled as he startedto sing.
"As I was a-walkin' down Paradise Street...."
* * * * *
The third monster entered the dining hall, caught the full blast oftheir five voices (Calvin Full was still out, but Villa was giving arum-tum-tum accompaniment), and sank to its knees, shaking its head asthough it had been sapped. One of the others made a desperate leap atthem, landing prone within a yard of Summersby. Melodies affect itsorgan of equilibrium, he thought; poor thing's in agony. "I says to her,Lollie, and how d'ye do...."
They were through the doorway now. The only pursuer still on its feetwas reeling after them, green rod still held in one shaking hand. Itsrust-red eyes were bulging out from their deep pits, and a thin trickleof violet ichor came from its nostril. It made guttural, creakingnoises.
"Down at the end," said Watkins. "The brown box."
"Did you gimmick it?" asked Summersby.
"I think so. We have to take a chance. The main idea is easy. I guessedat a few things, but I think it'll work. Unless one of our big palschecked on it and mucked up my improvements."
It was twenty yards away; but so was the last of the monsters. Summersbychanged Full to his other arm and added his voice to the general clamorfor a bar or so, then asked Watkins the question that had been naggingat him. "Can we all go? Or does somebody have to send the others?"
"I'll send you. I'm not too sure I can get through. The dials andfocusing lenses are on the outside, you know."
"I'll work it, then." They were at the table; he dropped Full and helpedAdam shove a chair to the table. The woman and Villa were singing"Quiereme Mucho" in Spanish, their voices a trifle hoarse by now.
"You will like hell. It'd take me ten minutes to teach you how to workthe transmitter. Think we have ten minutes?"
The giant was standing still, weaving, pawing the air. It would not givein to its pain and dizziness. If it fell now it might hit them. It wasthat close.
"You've _got_ to show me. I have a bad heart. I'm due to die in a monthor two," said Summersby urgently.
Watkins stared at him. "Do you think you went through the past hourswith a rotten ticker? Don't make me laugh."
"It's true. I'm just waiting to die. You're no more than thirty-eight orforty, and you've got twenty-two thousand dollars there," he said,gesturing at the briefcase. "I don't give a damn about the morals of thecase. You're a decent fellow and you ought to have this break."
Watkins snarled, as he gave the valiantly singing Mrs. Full a hand up tothe chair seat, "You think I have a martyr complex? You think I _want_to stay here? I'm elected, that's all! It's me stays or it's everybody!I haven't the time to teach you to work it!" He hit Summersby a hardblow on the chest. "Your heart's fixed up the same as Adam's eyes andCal's sinus. These gentry could turn your lungs upside down withoutopening you up, they're that good. Go back to your woods. You're okay."
"No," said Summersby with stubborn rage. "I'm sick of waiting to die.That's why I took the coaster ride in the first place. That's why Iwanted--"
"You're nuts. You have a heart to match your frame, Highpockets, ifyou'd admit it. Hand up old Cal."
The monster took two wobbling steps toward them. They were all on thechair, then clambering onto the table. Watkins swung open the door ofthe brown box. "Fast," he said urgently, "fast!"
Adam had Cal by the armpits; he lugged him into the dark interior. Villajumped in, Mrs. Full following. Summersby confronted the safe-cracker.
"Show me how to work the machine. I don't believe they could mend a badheart."
Watkins handed him the briefcase with so unexpected a motion thatSummersby took it automatically. "Send it to Roscoe & Bates, if I don'tturn up. I guess I can't use it here." He put a hand under his coat. "Goon, Highpockets."
"No!"
Watkins drew a gun, a small steel-blue thing that looked as wicked as arattler. Summersby had had no idea that he was carrying it. "Hop in,tall man," said Watkins, grinning. "You're holding up the works."
Reluctantly Summersby backed away, stood in the door of the box. Hecould jump Watkins, but if the mechanism were so complex, he would onlydoom them all. "You're out of your head," he said.
"Sure."
Abruptly above the safe-cracker towered the fantastic form of theirforgotten enemy, reaching for them, one hand still to its head.Summersby inflated his lungs.
"Should auld acquaintance be forgot," he roared tunefully, "and neverbrought to mind!"
Everyone joined him. It was a startling cataclysm of sound, even toSummersby. The alien tottered, hand outstretched; its mouth fell open,its eyes popped, the violet blood coursed from its nostril; with ashudder it clawed the air, honked grotesquely, and pitched forward, halfon and half off the table, where it lay gurgling. A spot on the side ofits skull, about the width of a gallon jug, on which the hair grewsparse and gray, pulsed as though there were no bone beneath the skin,as though a bellows within was puffing it in and out, in and out. Itsear, thought Summersby. Probably we've wrecked it for good. Maybe thething will die. Then Watkins is a gone goose, if he stays. He was aboutto lunge at the steady gun-hand when Adam and Villa yanked him backwardinto the box. Adam was crying.
"Try and come too, Mr. Watkins, try and come too," he said.
Watkins laughed. "I'll make out okay, son. I like my hide pretty well."He waved with the gun. "Be seeing you." Then he tossed the dark weaponinto the box and slammed the door.