The Giant Stumbles

by John Lymington

  The sun was bright and hot. There was no sign in the world that this was anything but the start of a brilliant summer day. Nigel walked on as if he had no care.

  The birds sang loudly. He could not hear if the car was close behind him.

  “There’s something in your way,” the Top Man said, standing very loosely and relaxed.

  “Then it will have to get out of it,” Nigel said. “The hot water boiler’s burst and I have to get a plumber.”

  The explanation was so ordinary that for a moment the Top Man was taken aback. His slackness left him in that moment of indecision when the mundane reason startled his imagination.

  And in that moment, Nigel hit him. Not for many years had he hit anyone before he had touched Rex, but that one blow had brought back part of the confidence he had enjoyed as an amateur boxer, years before, and he was still a heavy man and remembered how to use his weight.

  As he halted in front of the Top Man he moved very slightly and struck him hard in the wind. The hot water boiler had gained the vital second of surprise. Nigel hit the man’s face twice as it jerked forward when he doubled over his stomach, and he heard the second man shout:

  “Stand away!”

  It was then that the car accelerated. Nigel did not see it happen. He had the Top Man back against the brake wing, but the man was fighting back hard to get his wind.

  Nigel heard the scream and a crunch and heard the car reverse again. The Top Man did not look to see what had happened, but kept on, slowly regaining his strength. He forced away from the brake, driving Nigel back, and it was clear that for all his determination Nigel was going to lose.

  The Top Man concentrated on one thing at a time, and as he had not looked to see his partner’s fate so he did not look away from Nigel as he battered his way to superiority.

  Leila hit him on the back of the head with a wheel brace. He went back, dazed, and Nigel pushed in, thumping as hard as his tortured breath would let him. Leila hit again and again, furiously, and the Top Man went down to the ditch, not out, but too hurt to get up.

  Gasping painfully, Nigel got into the brake and moved it. Leila stood there, face covered in her hands, shivering. He took her, shoved her into the car and across the seat, and drove off.

  “Had to be done,” he said. “God! That man hurt me!”

  She took a deep breath and shook her head as she stared to the front.

  “It was horrible. Horrible !”

  He swung into the road and accelerated away.

  “Please God Hal doesn’t get off that boat for anything,” he said fervently. “They’ll be waiting like cats now. That is—one will. I don’t know about the other.” “He’s dead !” she said hysterically.

  “He’s not. He was sitting up when we left. I saw him in the mirror.”

  She said something in a low voice that he did not hear. He talked quickly, excitedly, not caring whether she listened or not. She sat still, white-faced, staring ahead.

  “So we haven’t even got the time we thought we had,” Nigel finished. “But you see, this does alter it. There may be a chance.”

  “But suppose there’s a series of tests going on somewhere?”

  He shrugged. “Well, that’s something we can’t stop till some government bigwig gets to work.”

  “But it’s too late now for that to do any good.”

  “It shortens the time.”

  She did not speak for a while, then, “What about Hal?”

  “She must stay aboard. They’ll try and get the children, but I don’t think they’d dare in daylight. People on the beach. Anyone could see.”

  “How much longer do you reckon we’ve got now?” She looked at him for the first time during the ride.

  “Can’t say,” he said. “Should have been the afternoon of the thirteenth. Seems more like early morning of the twelfth. Maybe sooner than that. Acceleration is a progression. It doesn’t add. Multiplies itself by multiples that themselves increase.”

  “I want to know how long we’ve got to live—not arithmetic!”

  “I can’t say now. I don’t know what experiments are going on.”

  “Your face is bleeding. You’d better stop.”

  “I’m surprised it’s only that. I feel it’s bursting in a pail of hot water.”

  He pulled in to the roadside, and she got out the little first aid kit from the locker.

  “Ever-methodical, think-of-everything Leila,” he said with a painful grin.

  “It came with the car,” she said, tonelessly.

  II

  Harvey was at early breakfast when the men came.

  “Had an accident,” the Top Man said. “My friend needs fixing.”

  “What happened ?” Harvey said curiously.

  “Knocked down by a car.”

  “You ought to go into hospital for observation.”

  “And spoil a holiday?” the Top Man said jovially. ‘‘Forget it, doctor. We’ll go sick when we get back—in the boss’s time!”

  They all laughed and Harvey examined the injured man.

  “Couple of broken ribs,” Harvey said. “And a lot of bruising. You’re going to be in pain for a while.”

  “Lucky he’s not in a coffin,” said the Top Man. He stared out of the window to where he could see the white house on the beach. He could also see the old barge tied up to the jetty and the ‘drawbridge’ section of the jetty lifted to the vertical, leaving a gap twelve feet wide.

  “Is there a phone I could use?” the Top Man said.

  Harvey told him where it was. As he worked, strapping the man’s broken ribs, he realized with a shock that his routine had ended. He should have insisted this man go for X-ray, for complete examination to uncover internal injury or anything else, but he did not It was just as if deep inside him he believed it did not matter any more.

  “What the hell is it he’s got that convinces me?” he thought, as he turned to his cabinet for more tape.

  “That wire!” the patient shouted. “Look! The lamp wire! God! must be my eyes! ” He covered his eyes with a hand to rest them and wipe visions away.

  Harvey looked round at the lamp flex. It was writhing slowly, and at that moment the bulb blew.

  “Ni’s disturbance is spreading,” he said calmly. “It’s reached here now.”

  “What are you talking about?” The man uncovered his eyes.

  “It’s just another of the Queer Things,” Harvey said, and almost laughed at the confusion he created.

  “Are you calling me a Queer?”

  “Lie down and keep calm,” Harvey said sharply. “I haven’t finished yet”

  The man fell back on the couch, exhausted from his hurts.

  “I’ll sew you up if you laugh at me,” he said, panting for breath.

  “I’m not laughing at you,” Harvey said. “Lie still. I’m going to hurt you for a second or two.”

  “Oh, God!” the man groaned, bracing himself. Suddenly he leapt up into a sitting position, face twisted with pain and surprise. “Blimey! You gave me a shock, then!”

  “Did I ?” Harvey said, interested. “I didn’t feel it myself.”

  Then through the rubber soles of his shoes he felt a firm, even vibration of the ground. He looked to the window.

  “It’s all right,” he said. “Keep calm. There’s going to be a storm—I think. I’d better take note of the time.”

  “Let me get up,” the man said, swinging his feet to the floor and grabbing his shirt. “I’ve had enough of thi dump!”

  The Top Man came in.

  “That phone’s haywire,” he said. “It gave me a shod and then blew up. Went dead on me.”

  “Too bad,” Harvey said. “It doesn’t seem to be you day.”

  “Are you being funny?” the Top Man said, very quietly.

  “No. But I should have thought that even you and your friend would have realized by now that something’s wrong.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “The world is coming to an
end,” Harvey said calmly, and watched the two men.

  “You’re cracked!” the Top Man said contemptuously. “All right,” Harvey said. “Feel the floor. Get hold of that lamp wire—if you dare. Watch the sky. Don’t believe me. Just see what happens. There was a storm last night. Did you ever see anything like it before ?”

  “End of the world,” the patient said. “For God’s sake! What are you talking about?”

  “Something a little bit too big for your brute mind,” said Harvey. “Don’t listen to me. Just keep your eyes open. You’ll soon be convinced.”

  “You’re up the clonks,” said the Top Man disgustedly. “You ought to see a trick cyclist. Get your shirt on, Bill. Let’s get out of here.”

  As they went down the steps of the doctor’s house a vision of orange-fringed curtain trailed suddenly in the blue sky, grew purple, then black with golden edges, and the sky went swiftly dark. Lightning seared the blackness in the heavens and the rain sheeted down from clouds that appeared, like the thick smoke from an explosion, and piled upwards, higher and higher into the tormented sky.

  “Oh, my God!” Bill said, staring up, the rain beating on him with the force of ice pellets. “He’s right!” “Shut up, you goon!” the Top Man shouted. “Come under the shelter!”

  He dragged the frightened man up the steps under the shade of the veranda roof. Bill started to whimper. Shock and hurt and now unreasoning childish fear had crumbled his manhood.

  “You got to get a grip on yourself,” the Top Man said, deliberately keeping his eyes on Bill and away from the sky. “We’ve got a job to do. The man got by, but he knows the kids are still here … Are you listening?”

  Bill looked at him as if surprised; then he looked scared and nodded quickly.

  III

  “But, Mummy! I’ve got to feed them!” Harry was desperate and determined.

  Hal wondered how on earth she could have forgotten the zoo. She had thought of everything—but the animals. She had a sick feeling in her stomach as Harry went on, eagerly persuasive.

  “Mrs. Barnes will look after them,” she said.

  “But she doesn’t know about Dotty’s bellyache,” said Harry.

  “So she doesn’t,” thought Hal, and wanted to laugh and cry.

  IV

  Some way out of London he pulled into a lay-by and switched off.

  “What’s the matter?” Leila said.

  He stared ahead. “You know this is no good, don’ you?” he asked. “You know that nobody’s going to take any notice—that no one will do anything.”

  “You mustn’t say that, Nigel,” she said, suddenly alarmed. “You’ve got to make them listen—make them do something. That’s why you’re going.”

  “It’s hopeless, Leila. By now everybody who knew me thinks I’ve gone off my rocker. There was that story Rex put out. Now, if I go in with this, the man who listens is going to think of that news item. After all, it was him the item was meant for.”

  “You’ve got to fight, Ni,” Leila said urgently. “You can’t just leave it.”

  “But it’s no good, I tell you! It’s just no damn’ good! Nobody’s going to listen. Sheppard’s a ruddy filing-clerk. What do you think he’ll say when he hears?”

  “He’s the Minister,” she said. “He has his duty to listen.”

  “He has no imagination. What proofs do you think he’ll want before he does anything?”

  “There are all these things that have been happening, Ni. There’s nobody who can doubt them.”

  “They’ve been explained away. Electrical storms, sunspots, the rest of the Happy Excuses. No, Leila. It’s no food, I tell you. It was a waste, and a dangerous waste. We should go back.”

  “It’s the children,” she said angrily. “You’ve got to forget them, Ni. At this moment they don’t count. It’s everybody else that counts. You’ve got to go on, Ni. You can’t turn back now.” Her anger faded into pleading. He just sat there, staring at nothing.

  “It’s all emptied out,” he said, and touched his aching ace.

  “You’ve got to put it back, Ni. Get out. Let’s walk a little way.”

  “Okay.” He was dull and depressed. They walked long in the bright sun, the morning traffic swishing by m the road. It was a place of grass and little trees, where, beyond, the branches showed the white walls and multi- coloured signs of a road cafe.

  “I wish I hadn’t found it,” he said. “I didn’t want the responsibility. I don’t want it now. What can I do, anyway? You know damn’ well—nothing. No one will listen to me. Why the hell should they?”

  “They will, Ni. Think how many have already. Even Rex. Rex knows, just as I do.”

  “It’s because you were in that house, don’t you understand?” he shouted. “It’s the atmosphere of the house. That’s what made you believe. It’s electric. It gets right into you. No one can resist it. But what is it like here? Do you believe it now?”

  “Yes. I believe it now.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I believe in you. That’s why.”

  “You warm me, Leila.” He smiled a moment. “You’re as crazy as I am. But all I can see now is this thing happening. A vast catastrophe. Something too big for me to imagine or understand. It shrinks me. I only want to think of small things that I can handle. I want to protect my children so that I can fight something I can see and turn my back on something that’s too gigantic for me to grasp. I want to turn my back on it. I don’t want to go and try to convince anybody. I want to go home. It’s all that’s left now, Leila. There’s nothing else.”

  “Don’t be a coward, Ni,” she urged. “Don’t think like that. You must go on. See this man. You’ve got to convince him. That’s a fight, too. Surely it’s a fight you can understand? One man against another. You’ve got to overcome him. You’ve got to, Ni. And you can. You have everything that he hasn’t. He has only ignorance. You have the knowledge, the proof. If he is unimaginative, all the better. He’ll see the practical side of it. You’ve got to show it to him, as you showed it to us. We believed, Ni, because you told us with all your heart and soul

  showing the truth of it. We didn’t need proof, even. If you can do it with us—if you can scare Rex—then surely to God you can do it with the one man who might really matter?”

  “You talk, Leila, you talk,” he said, and shook his head. “Look at all these people going by. Could you tell them they have only forty-eight hours to live? Maybe less? What would they do? They’d laugh.”

  “They’d be frightened.”

  “They’d laugh.” He stopped walking.

  A huge lorry pulled into the apron by the cafe where the pair had halted. A man got down from the cab, stopped a moment and lit a cigarette.

  Nigel went to him.

  “Do you know the world will come to an end in forty- eight hours ?” Nigel said.

  The man looked at him keenly.

  “I dunno what you mean,” he said, “but it’s coming to an end millions of times a day—for somebody. That’s life, mate. You’ve got to die. Why worry?” He grinned and walked away to the cafe.

  Nigel stood a moment, then turned and took Leila’s arm.

  “Let’s press on,” he said.

  Leila felt she wanted to scream.

  V

  The car pulled up by the Ministry in Whitehall. There was a uniformed commissionaire at the door, and Nigel stumbled on the threshold.

  Had he a pass? No.

  Had he an appointment? No.

  The commissionaire then started telephoning unknown and secret persons from his glass box by the entrance. Nigel waited, striding up and down the confined space, controlling his passionate wish to rush in and burst into the minister’s room; but he knew too well that that would lead only to a swift way out.

  He tried not to think of what he would say when he got in; his stomach turned cold at the thought. As he waited he tried to realize just what it was he had to say, and now, more than ever, failed to grasp it fully. He fel
t as if he had come to demand action on some gigantic disaster that pended. but when he tried to realize what it was, he failed. It seemed almost ludicrous when he tried.

  The commissionaire came out of his box.

  “Miss Walton will see you,” he said, curiously. “If you’ll come this way.”

  Nigel went that way but, far from being shown Miss Walton, he was shown into a waiting-room and left before he could protest. Again he reminded himself that extreme patience was the only way by which he could achieve anything, much as he wanted to rush out shouting.

  The minutes passed slowly. He stood there, hands over his ears to stop the sound of the slow’ wall clock, ticking as if it were wound once in a century.

  He dropped his hands and tried to think of other things.

  Leila. He suddenly wanted to cuddle Leila and make love to her. He stood there amazed at the desire, coming at this moment.

  Miss Walton came in, cool, dark and somehow protected by horn-rimmed spectacles. He told her what he ranted.

  “The Minister is very busy at this time of the day,” Miss Walton said. “He sees no one.”

  “This is a matter of great urgency,” Nigel said, controlling a desire to push her out of the way. “I have met Mr. Sheppard before.”

  “Yes, I know,” she said coolly. “If it is very urgent you could see Mr. Plender.”

  “And who in hell is Mr. Plender?”

  Miss Walton seemed to be well used to fiery outbursts, for she made no comment.

  “Mr Plender is the Under Secretary,” she said.

  “I have to see the Minister,” said Nigel. “I have come a long way to see him. I must insist. It is a matter of the very gravest importance. I have to beg of you to arrange it without delay.”

  She looked at her watch. “I’ll do my best,” she said, shaking her head. “But he never sees anyone before midday.”