CHAPTER XII A Night of Terror
Irene’s reply was hurried. “We’re _here_. Come on, Judy! Wake up!”
“I am awake. What happened to all the golden-haired people? They weresuffocating me. They—”
“Come _on_!” Irene interrupted, pulling Judy to her feet just as thetrain lurched to a stop. People began to get off. Judy saw now that theywere all kinds of people—men, women, even a drowsy child on one man’sshoulder. The hair that showed below their hats was black, brown,straight and curly. Their faces were no longer blank. Each had its ownindividuality. Dark faces, fair faces—how beautiful they suddenly were,and how different!
“I dreamed,” Judy managed to say, “that they were all alike. It was aterrible, a frightening dream. I never have nightmares, especially ontrains. What happened?”
“Nothing,” Irene replied, laughing, “but something will if we don’thurry. The train will take us past our station. I was asleep, too. Wenearly missed it. Wait!” she called to the conductor.
“You getting off here?” he inquired. “Hurry up. I’ll hold the train.”
It started again with a jolt almost as soon as Judy and Irene steppeddown to the platform.
“That was close. People have been killed getting off moving trains,”Irene said with a shudder.
Bewildered, Judy looked around her. “Isn’t anybody going to meet us?”she inquired.
“Dale didn’t know which train we were going to take. We’ll go home bytaxi,” Irene announced.
She hailed a cab that was just about to pull away from the station. Sheand Judy were crowded in along with other passengers who lived in thesame suburban town. Again Judy had that elated sense of being glad—gladthat they were different.
“How terrible it would be if we were all alike,” she said to Irene asthey huddled together in the crowded taxi. “Our faces, our hair, ourthoughts—everything. Would you like it if everyone in the whole worldhad golden hair and a face like yours?”
“I’d hate it,” Irene replied. “It’s bad enough when I buy a dress andfind out someone else has one like it. Why do you ask such a question?”
“It was that way in my dream. I told you—”
“I wasn’t listening. You’ll have to tell me again when we’re home. Afterall, it was only a dream.”
“Was it?”
“What do you think it was?” Irene inquired.
“A prophecy, maybe. People used to have prophetic visions. Maybe, sometime in the future—”
The cab stopped to let two of the passengers out. Irene lived in abeautiful neighborhood. The houses, like the people who lived in them,were all different. Behind them were tall trees, outlined against thenight sky, and a brook that reminded Judy of Dry Brook at home. Aninnocent brook and yet, when it had poured its flood waters into thepond above the Roulsville dam ... Judy shuddered at the memory.
“Horace dreamed the dam would break—and it did!” she said suddenly. “Ican still hear the roar and feel the horror—before I knew the peoplewould be saved. Irene, there could be another flood—”
“What flood?”
“A flood of advertising. Don’t laugh. Flo asked me to talk you intoaccepting that offer—”
“There’s no need,” Irene broke in. “I’ve already decided. Flo’s right.It’s silly of me to feel the way I do about commercials. If I can get asponsor there’s no reason why I shouldn’t be on the big network. Dalethinks I should. There he is at the window motioning for us to hurry,”Irene observed as the cab stopped to let them out. “Oh, I do hope littleJudy is all right. There’s a light in her room.”
There were lights all over the house. Dale’s anxious face told Judy thatsomething was wrong. He started to say something to her, but Irene brokein.
“It’s little Judy. I know it.”
Saying this, she hurried into the baby’s room with Judy close behindher. Little Judy was awake. Apparently she had reached over and turnedon the light by herself.
“I heard Daddy on the tefelone,” she announced solemnly. Then, with alittle jump, she landed in Irene’s arms and began to hug her. Judy couldsee that she was perfectly all right. But something was wrong. She couldfeel it.
“You comed out of the TV. I saw you, Mommy,” the baby continued herchatter. “I saw the bad witch, too. She _skeered_ me!”
“Did she, lamb? I’m so sorry.”
“Oh, that’s all right, Mommy. I like to be skeered.”
“Were you thinking about the witch? Is that why you couldn’t go tosleep?” asked Judy.
“I did sleep. Daddy woke me up. He was talking on the tefelone.”
“Don’t you love the way she says _telephone_?” Irene exclaimed, hugginglittle Judy again. “I was so sure something had happened to her, but ifit was just the telephone—”
“Maybe Peter called up. We didn’t give Dale a chance to tell us—”
Dale, in the doorway, interrupted Judy.
“It was the hospital. I tried to call you, but you had already left thetheater. We can be thankful it isn’t any worse—”
“What isn’t?” asked Judy. “Why did the hospital call? What hospital wasit?”
Dale mentioned the name of the hospital.
“Judy, isn’t that where you said they took that red-headed woman?” Irenequestioned.
“Yes, but they wouldn’t call Dale about her. She’s a stranger. Ifsomeone we know was hurt. If Peter—”
“It _is_ Peter. I tried to break the news gently,” Dale said in so gravea tone that Judy found herself staring at him in silent terror.
“Dale, what has happened?” she cried when she could find her voice. “Whyis he in the hospital? What are they going to do to him?”
“They’re going to operate—”
“But why? Why? Peter is never sick. He must be hurt. Was he—was he—” Theword wouldn’t come. Judy knew Peter’s work was dangerous. She knew, too,that his latest assignment was one of his biggest. He couldn’t discussit, but he had said, just before he left, “Wish me luck, Angel. This issomething really big.”
To an FBI man, something big was usually a raid. Peter carried a gun butseldom used it. “Criminals carry guns, too,” thought Judy. Aloud shesaid, “Tell me the truth, Dale. Was Peter—shot?”
Dale nodded, adding quickly, “It could have been worse. They’re going tooperate to remove a bullet from his shoulder. There’s not much danger—”
“But there is a little. He came close to being killed, didn’t he? Howsoon can I see him?” Judy questioned breathlessly.
“The hospital will call—”
“When? When?”
“When the operation is over. Meantime, why don’t you try and get alittle rest? You can stretch out here on the sofa, Judy, until thetelephone rings,” Dale suggested.
Judy shook her head. “I couldn’t sleep. I’m going back to New York—Iwant to be at the hospital—”
“In the middle of the night?” Irene shook her head. “You’ll do Petermore good if you’re not exhausted when you see him.”
This silenced Judy. She knew it would be better to try and get some restas Dale suggested. “I won’t sleep,” she told herself when Dale and Irenehad left her alone in the dimly lighted living room. She rememberedthinking the same thing just before she fell asleep on the train. Thesofa was long and low—like a train. Again she could hear the clankingwheels as they rumbled out the words, “Dull, drab, dull, drab ...”faster and faster. Once more she was crowded in, almost suffocated bythe throng of golden-haired people. She was looking for Peter. But shecould see nothing but blank faces topped by golden curls.
“Peter, where are you?” came the voiceless cry.
Judy awoke from her dream of terror to hear the telephone ringing. Shesprang toward it, half asleep, jerked the instrument from its restingplace, and asked breathlessly, “Is this the hospital? How is he?”
“It’s Honey.” The voice of Peter’s sister seemed to come from very far
away. “They called us, since they couldn’t reach you. How is he, Judy?And how are you taking it? I couldn’t sleep. I just had to call and findout how everything is.”
“Is this the hospital?” she asked breathlessly]
“Everything’s terrible,” wailed Judy. “I don’t know how Peter is. Icouldn’t find him in the parade of golden-haired, faceless people.Honey, promise me!”
“I’ll promise anything,” came the sympathetic voice over the wire.
“Then promise—” Judy paused, trying to shake off the web of sleep thatseemed to be holding her prisoner. Then, to her own surprise and Honey’shorror, she finished, “Promise me you won’t do anything to change thecolor of your hair!”