The Giant Stumbles

by John Lymington

  “You don’t think he would really try anything like that?”

  “I don’t know what to think about him, but I’m sure he’s mad. Paranoia. I knocked him down last night, Hal.”

  She looked shocked.

  “You did?”

  “I did. I enjoyed it. I’m still enjoying it.”

  “That’s why he hasn’t come back, then.”

  He laughed suddenly “Yes, I think that must be the reason! But whatever he felt before it’s ten times worse now.”

  “But no man would spite himself on children.”

  “I don’t know what he might do, but I’m frightened. You’ve got to look at it like this. He’s a small king in his world, and he really believes what I told him last night. The only thing with him is that he believes he’ll get through it and means to be a real king at the end of it.”

  “He actually thinks he’ll survive when everybody else dies?”

  “He does. And from the queer way he was behaving last night I think he already looks on it as something that’s going to lift him right up to the top. And I think you’ll find he’ll start to think laws don’t apply to him any more now.”

  Hal frowned.

  “That’s what Benstead thought,” she said, and told him what Leila had said.

  Nigel laughed suddenly.

  “Benstead! Golly! I shouldn’t have thought of that. I thought the only figures that roused him had decimal points.” He shook his head. “But still it shows you what effect this sort of thing can have. I’m beginning to wonder what will happen if everybody does get to know. Rex fears panic. I don’t believe that. I don’t feel like guessing at what might happen to hundreds of millions … What I’m worried about is what Rex might do.”

  In the dining-room, they found out. Leila had been reading the morning papers.

  “What’s happened to Rexy?” she said, in an ironic tone. “He seems to have fled in order to roast you, Ni. Read this. It’s a sad piece. Front page, too. It seems, dear, you’re about to be forcibly removed to a real looney bin.”

  Hal took the paper. Nigel read over her shoulder.

  “Well, well,” he said. “That’s a relief, anyhow.”

  “A relief ?” Leila said sharply.

  “I was frightened he might do something worse,” he said. And he said no more on the subject, though Leila tried to make him.

  “This means that whoever you try to contact now will have heard this story that you’re crazy,” she said.

  “That’s what he hopes it will mean,” Nigel said.

  “Did you contact anyone last night?” Leila said shrewdly.

  “I contacted Murray. He couldn’t deal with the matter right away.”

  “What!”

  “He has a special little axe to grind. The end of the world must wait.”

  “Oh shut up,” Leila said, surprisingly abrupt. “You give me the shivers.”

  II

  John Randolph Murray had found time. He had been scared into finding time. Nine hours after Nigel’s phone call he came to the observatory with a grey bristle on his chin, his eyes bloodshot from concentration. His chief assistant, Leitz, was surprised to see him, for he should have been on his way to the Finance Committee. Murray threw a bundle of papers on Leitz’s desk. “Get me some coffee,” he said hoarsely. “I’ve been up all goddamn night.”

  Leitz used the intercom, and looked at the papers. “Nigel Rhodes, the Englishman. You know him,” Murray said, and started to walk round the room, smoking a cigarette. “He called last night. He has some theory about a deceleration in the earth’s spin. I thought he was crazy, but he gave me certain facts and figures. I started to think. I guess it was just fascination at first. You know, the sense of doom. Thriller style. But when I began to get into it, it seemed more and more likely. Now I’m certain that the theory is correct.”

  Leitz took up the papers.

  “A deceleration?” he said. “That would mean a variation in gravity. An alteration to the magnetic field.”

  “It means that,” said Murray. “A small thing in the affairs of the universe. Rather large to us, though.”

  “But for how long?”

  “No more than an effect of shock. It’s chain reaction, he assumes. It might be part of a second; might be several seconds.”

  “But if it’s several seconds…..” Leitz’s eyes grew larger behind his spectacles.

  “Yes,” Murray said. “It’s good-bye. The Long Goodbye.”

  “In that case, nothing can be done to stop it.” “Nothing at all.”

  Leitz sat back suddenly. “There must be a mistake.” “See if you can find it,” Murray said.

  A man brought in coffee.

  “What are you going to do, John?”

  “Nothing,” Murray said. “I don’t believe there is anything to do. Rhodes wants to publish. I don’t see the point.”

  “You don’t think we should tell the patient?”

  “We are all the patients, Bob. I don’t think I want to know. I’d sooner carry on.”

  Leitz looked at the papers again.

  “I can’t believe it,” he said.

  “Why? The end has to come some day. Why not tomorrow?”

  Leitz was still trying to find a way out. “The storms have coincided ?”

  “Exactly. Almost to the decimal point of longitude and latitude. No known track. Dead on estimated time.”

  Leitz hesitated. “I’d like to check on the figures.” Murray signed with his hand. He looked exhausted. “Okay,” he said.

  III

  At noon the blue of the sky became tinged with a copper bronze colour, growing darker with the passing of seconds. Gradually, what looked like purple hanging fringes of silk appeared, curling curtains high in the sky. The colours of the fringes changed rapidly, from purple to blue, to green, to mauve and then to grey-blue with deep red edges. At what point these strange shapes changed into thunderclouds no one noted, but it was sudden, and within seconds the day blackened and the first searing cut of lightning streaked down to the sea.

  Nigel ran out on to the beach and stood there, staring up as the rain lashed down upon him. He stayed there a minute or more before he ran back on to the veranda, water running off him.

  “What’s the matter?” Kal said.

  “This wasn’t in my calculations,” he said. “It’s going on faster than I thought.”

  “You mean it might not be—four days ?” she said.

  “It might be sooner. Much sooner. It will be a question of timing the storms ”

  A crescendo of thunder drowned his voice, and Ha covered her face as another lightning flash cracked at the sea. She saw the waves roaring on to the shore, and the white plumes bursting against Elly‘s side, rocking her black bulk against the jetty. Up on her deck John was screaming for her. She called back, but the sea and the rain were too loud. Even the child’s piercing shriek was faint in the uproar.

  “Leave him,” Nigel said, catching her arm. “Harry’s with him. They’ll be all right.”

  “They’ll be soaked.”

  “They should have the sense to get inside,” he said.

  The silver rain became like rods of glass as the sky suddenly lightened and the colours began to change, like some mighty kaleidoscope. The clouds once more merged into the strange hanging fringes of fire in the sky, then grew lighter and lighter and finally faded altogether against the brilliant blue of the summer sky.

  John came running along the jetty, snivelling and soaking wet. He flung himself into his mother’s arms and cried and gasped his dislike of storms and especially thunder.

  Nigel watched a moment, then went into the lounge, Leila was standing there, looking at him, as if she understood.

  “That wasn’t on the card, was it?” she said.

  “No. It’s come about twelve hours too soon.”

  “What does it mean?”

  “It might mean that the thing is speeding up.”

  “How can you find out?”


  “Not until the next one breaks.”

  Leila turned away and gave a little shrug of uneasiness.

  “I’m getting that feeling again—sort of goose-pimples. All tensed up. Shuddery.”

  “It’s just electricity,” he said.

  “I don’t like it, whatever it just is. I see Rex’s paper mentioned a storm on the south coast.”

  “Yes, he would do that, just to make it seem ordinary …that is, an ordinary storm.”

  There was a knock at the door, and when Nigel went the telephone engineer was there.

  “I repaired your line, sir,” he said. “But it’s gone again, think there must be something wrong in the house somewhere. Is the electricity supply all right?”

  “It was. They came at eight and did it.”

  Nigel snapped down the light switch, and three pairs of eyes looked up, for nothing.

  “Gone again,” Nigel said. “But it’s only the main fuses, can do them.”

  “There seems to be some sort of overloading,” the engineer said. “I can’t quite see why. Our line is nowhere near the light supply.”

  “Might be just a bad earth,” Nigel said.

  “We’ve got a normal earth on a water pipe.”

  “There might be a resistance somewhere.”

  “Not unless the pipe’s dry.”

  “The storm blew it.”

  “It went after the storm, sir.”

  “You can’t explain it, can you?” Nigel said suddenly. “No, sir.”

  “Do you know why you can’t?”

  “No.”

  “It’s because it’s the beginning of the end of the world,” said Nigel.

  “The end of the world, sir?” the engineer said, and looked sideways at Nigel, then furtively at Leila, then back to the carpet. “I see. But what shall I do?”

  “Shove another fuse in and leave some behind. I’ll fix them if it keeps going.”

  “I’m not supposed to do that.”

  “Would you like to stay here and shove another one in every five minutes?”

  “I can’t do that either.”

  “Then leave the fuses.”

  It was then that Harry came running in, barefoot and excited.

  “Gosh, Dad! The beach is covered in dead fish. Millions of ’em. And when I picked one up, I got a shock !” Nigel went to the windows and looked out. Uneasily the engineer looked at Leila.

  “It’s oil from the boats, I expect,” he said.

  Nigel went out to the beach, so the engineer turned back to his futile work. Leila followed Nigel outside to look at the death-strewn beach. Hal was standing alone on the veranda, for John, quickly over his fears, had gone running with Harry and Nigel to see the fish.

  “Things are happening pretty fast now,” Leila said quietly.

  “But they’re still the sort of things that people could explain away,” Hal said. “There have been plagues of dead fish before, and electrical storms. Phones have blusted and lights gone out, and it’s never meant the end of the world, so why should it now? That’s what people will say, because it’s the only way they can think. Why don’t you do something?”

  She faced Leila and her eyes were bright and angry Leila was taken aback for a moment by her violence.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “What can I do? My editor won’t publish.”

  “How do you know he won’t?”

  “I’ve already been on to him.”

  “When?”

  “This morning. He cursed like hell. He always does at four a.m.—that’s Eastern Standard.” She seemed to be talking to cover her thoughts, for she shook her head very slightly. “He listened, though. He always listens. But he didn’t like that one. ‘Who are you selling?’ he said ‘Advertisers?’ ”

  “It doesn’t seem possible that something as terrible as this should be stifled by soap and cigarette makers!” Hal said bitterly.

  “It is so,” Leila said.

  “It means there’s an absolute censorship by someone who makes detergents. How can they understand ?” “They understand what’s good for them,” Leila said. Hal softened. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I shouldn’t have shouted like that.”

  “There wasn’t any point in telling you,” Leila said. “I knew what would happen and it did. Even to the last words, ‘What’s the matter with the man? Has he gone nuts?’ Just like that.”

  She sighed and laughed very quietly.

  “They’ll all think he’s mad,” Hal said, between her teeth.

  “All prophets have been mad,” Leila said. “They believe things no one else will.”

  Hal was staring at Nigel and the two boys on the sunlit beach. It was then that Joe came into view, red-faced, back-handed and angry.

  “It just won’t go, Mother!” he said. “I’ve tried everything. Plugs and coil—every blasted sausage. I can’t understand it. She was all right last night.” He sat down on the veranda steps and glared sullenly at the three on the beach. “I’ve been since ten trying to start her. Then I threw a spanner through the window. I’m sorry, Mummy.”

  “You should keep your temper,” Hal said. “Which window?” She did not realize how much she stuck to her normal life, as if no cosmic uproar could ever really affect it.

  “Just the garage window,” said Joe. “Do you think I could borrow the Jag? For this afternoon, I mean?”

  “For—Amanda?” Hal said, saying the name with a little difficulty.

  “Yes, I’m going to tea, you see. Over at Marlstone.” “At Marlstone?” Suddenly Hal thought of something. Richard ! Richard Beverley. He lives there.”

  “The B.B.C. man?” Leila asked curiously.

  “Yes,” Hal said, nodding slowly. “He’s been off-colour and home a few days. Why didn’t I think of him?”

  “You mean he might broadcast it?” Leila said.

  “He’s one of the chief news editors. If any man could do it, he would.”

  “Nothing like trying,” Leila said, staring down the beach. “Yes, I’d have a go, at that.” She seemed to be come keen.

  “Don’t mention it to Daddy,” Hal said, as if she had just thought of it.

  Joe looked up over his shoulder. “Why?”

  “Just don’t,” said Hal. “Go and get those hands clean.’

  Joe sighed and got up, grinning now. His temper over the stalling car had evaporated. He went into the house

  “Last night,” said Leila, “you and Nigel were mat keen to get this thing published. Today you’re different You seem to be afraid of it. What happened ?”

  Hal hesitated and Leila saw it.

  “It’s just—difficult to know which way to do it,” Hal said, evasively.

  “That all?” Leila said, and sat down, as if it did no matter. “What happened to Rex?” she asked, after a while.

  “He went back,” Hal said.

  She had a most odd sensation as of something droning faintly, but very close to each ear. She put her hands to her ears, so startling was the feeling. Leila sat forward in the chair, puzzled and alarmed.

  “What’s that?” Leila said.

  “A sort of drumming,” Hal answered, shaking her head to try and stop it.

  Leila jumped up suddenly and, as she did so, the metal caps on the wicker chair legs chattered very faintly in high frequency. Both women looked at the chair which moved very slightly sideways.

  “It’s the ground,” Leila said. “It’s vibrating!”

  The sensation died away in a matter of seconds.

  Hal went to the veranda steps.

  “Nigel!” she called down the beach. “Here. Quickly!” As if he could do anything.

  IV

  The flat looked out over the park, a bright and airy place of sun and gold. Rex looked down on the beetles of the London traffic. The girl behind him sat at a small coffee table, looking as gold and white as the decor and eating breakfast in a neglige as light as puff balls. It was then about eleven.

  “You actually threatened him
?” Laura said. “How strong of you, Rex, dear.”

  “It’s a very odd thing,” he said. “At moments I feel idiotic about it. At others I’m determined to go on with it.”

  “How like you,” Laura said with a sharp little edge to her voice. ‘You do the same about your wife. Isn’t it about time you did divorce her?”

  “Oh, don’t start on that now!” he snapped, turning back from the window.

  “You never want to start on it now,” she said briskly. “What I’m trying to tell you, Laura, is that the man has hit upon something that no one else knows about, but anyone who does know could make a fortune.”

  He looked eagerly at her.

  “What is it?” she said curiously.

  “A big change in the whole structure of the world.” “Meaning what?”

  “It means that a lot of things are going to be destroyed, and a lot of people with them.”

  She looked up slowly. “Are you serious ?”

  “Look at me.”

  She nodded after a moment. “How on earth can you believe a thing like that?”

  “It’s just one of those things that happens to you Something that strikes a chord and rings the eternal truth in you. You know I’m not the man to believe anything I need proof. In this case, we got it. The thing’s happening now. Storms come from nowhere, dead on the time he says. The sea suddenly throws up shoals of dead fish The whole place is vibrating with a sort of tension. It makes you believe. I tell you, Laura, you have only to go near the place to know that it’s a thing that must happen.”

  The girl got up suddenly. “You mean that thousands of people are going to die?”

  “Millions.”

  “And you are—looking forward to it?”

  “It’s got to come, Laura,” he said urgently. “That’s the thing you must understand. It’s going to come. No one can stop it. But, for a few who know, there is the chance of survival. For the rest, only accident can provide.”

  “You’re as hard as a bloody diamond,” she said, and sat down.

  He sat down on a pouffe close to her.