She tried to think calmly of Warren. He must have known from the first that if he wouldn't try to get through to Cefor, she would. She wasn't the sort to sit still and wait for death.
And the savage, inhuman customs of the Greys ensured that only one had to go. Hate for Warren crawled in her stomach. The worst of it was, she believed he might have got through safe. She still believed in his competence. Somehow, if he had had to, he would have reached safety.
But he didn't have jto risk it. There was someone to risk it for him. A girl, but that didn't matter to a man who had lost pride.
She walked on for what seemed hours, until she was as wet as if she had just stepped out of a hot bath. Her watch showed sixty-three minutes since she left the ship. She had been walking briskly. Over four miles. She had always been a good walker, and the slighter gravity helped.
Then she struck the forest, beginning again on the slope. Venusian trees were like those of Earth in that they consisted mainly of a thick trunk, but that was all the resemblance. You could push an arm through them, and they closed round it. But they weren't dangerous. A man could walk right through them, if he was strong.
Virginia began to hope, despite herself, that she wouldn't see any Greys. She fell into the rhythm of her stride, walking like an automaton. She was tough. She could do twenty miles without coming to the end of her strength. The only difficulty was the eternal slope. But even that she became accustomed to.
She had done ten miles, she reckoned, when ahead of her, right in her path, she saw a Grey. He was facing her, only twenty yards away. Her gun came up and she fired, but she was not surprised when he faded into the mist and disappeared, unharmed.
So it had started. There would be a lot of this, according to Warren. The Greys were humanoid, like half-finished men. They had no hair, but they had arms, legs, feet, a trunk and a head. Everything about them was rounded off—shoulders, thighs, feet. They were a uniform grey all over, and invisible on their own planet at anything more than twenty yards.
They could be in plain sight, and only had to turn or move back a step to disappear completely.
She began to plan. Perhaps she could beat them, on what Warren had told her. Nothing mattered, apparently, until she was almost at Cefor. She would have to save herself till then. Greys could run a little faster than most humans, but not much. And she used to be able to do the hundred yards in well under twelve seconds. Civilized Greys had civilized weapons, but these were probably unarmed except for knives. If she could pick her time right for a dash to the city, she might make it.
She began to reel a little and slowed her pace, knowing she was observed. Perhaps she might trick them into leaving the final attack till too late. She could rest a little now. It was only the last mile that mattered.
She staggered and fell. She rose slowly, in artistic fatigue. But she almost jerked into her sprint when she saw four Greys calmly watching her from only ten yards.
She shot rapidly, and one of them fell. The others didn't appear to care. But they disappeared, if only just beyond her range of vision.
She ran a little then, in terror that was only a little less real than she pretended. But the control she still had on herself enabled her to stumble on tiredly at hardly more than walking pace.
Her hopes were beginning to rise. Twelve miles; she was still fresh; and the Greys must think her almost out on her feet. They must let her see Cefor or their devilish torture wouldn't be complete. And if they let her get that far, she might be able to dash for the gates and then hold them off until men came out, attracted by her shots.
She pondered over firing early in the hope that she would give the alarm. But almost certainly that would precipitate the Greys' attack, and she wanted to trick them into leaving it until the last possible moment.
Suddenly something crashed between her legs, throwing her headlong. She wasn't hurt, but when she got up she limped. They were playing into her hands. Warren had done this, she thought. Twice he had escaped from the Greys. And perhaps he hadn't known as much as she did now.
They left her alone for quite a while. She saw nothing of them for so long that she almost began to hope that they had tired and left her alone. But she kept her slow pace. They might be trying to trick her into showing she was stronger than she pretended.
When she least expected it she was bowled over from behind and felt the touch of warm, moist skin. She gave herself up to terror and thought, This is it. But they only rolled her about gently, played with her, and tripped her again every time she rose. There seemed to be about a dozen of them. She was afraid to try to shoot them. Her guns were secure if she left them where they were, but if she drew one they might knock it from her hand.
At last they were gone. They had torn her suit, but only the pantaloon part. She was puzzled, then realized why. Without oxygen she would die in eight hours, and would be beyond recovery in six. They knew that, and they wanted her to live longer.
She cut her suit away at the waist, below her belt. It left her legs freer. Her thin slacks clung to her legs so that by now they almost seemed a part of her. She wondered what they would do if she threw away the rest of the suit. Would they put it back on her forcibly?
She knew she must have done nearly twenty miles, and wished Warren had overestimated the distance. He had said twenty to thirty miles, and she had been unable to prevent herself hoping it was the smaller limit. But there was no sign of Cefor yet.
Two of them would have had a much better chance, she thought angrily. They could have watched all around them and kept the Greys more on the defensive. As it was, the Greys were so silent that a score of them could be walking only a few yards behind her. She resisted the temptation to look until she was set to do it quickly, ready to take a shot at anything she saw.
When she had swung round she wished she hadn't. At least a score of dark shapes faded rapidly into the fog. Now she would always know they were there behind her, within sight if she turned her head. It was enough to drive her mad.
The Greys could see only about thirty or forty yards—even less than she could. If the mist would only lift, she knew she could see them long before they could see her. But the mist never lifted. It was the atmosphere of the planet. There was a lot of oxygen in it, but there were other things in it too.
Suddenly she saw a faint glow ahead. She forced herself to be cold as ice. The bright lights of the domed city would carry a long way, even through the fog. It might be anything up to a mile distant yet, though probably not more than half a mile. This was the time Warren had warned her about. The time when she began to think she was through. She forced herself to stumble slowly on. She nursed a faint hope that as the Greys probably couldn't actually see the city yet, though they would know where it was, they might leave her alone for a while yet.
She went staggering on, thinking over and over again, Not yetl Not yetl as her body rebelled and tried to run toward the light.
Then she saw the Greys closing in. Instantly she was running, firing her gun as she went. She didn't care where the bullets went. But she realized in rending disappointment that the mist blanketed sound as well as sight, and she was still too far away for the sound to be heard in Cefor.
But she was holding her lead! She went wild with exultation and threw her empty gun away. Even its weight held her back, and as she raced toward the fight she told herself she had won. The Greys had underestimated her, as she had been inviting them to do for hours.
Suddenly she heard a scream behind her. A woman's scream. It was so unexpected that she checked her stride involuntarily. She took it up again at once. The scream was another of the Greys' tricks.
Then it came again, and there were words. It was no Grey she heard. Behind her, a human girl was screaming as she was dragged down. Again Virginia couldn't help checking her stride. But then, furious with herself, she renewed her efforts. It must be Yvonne Yonge who was screaming. Somehow, for some reason, the little glamour girl had set out after her. That was too b
ad. Virginia's duty to herself, to the rest of them, even to Yvonne, was to reach Cefor. She burst forward as if she had merely been trotting gendy before.
But the Greys were at her heels. She never knew whether she would have escaped if Yvonne's scream hadn't checked her, or whether the Greys would have caught her anyway. Either way, they had her.
She fought as she had never known she could fight. As she had never known anyone could fight. If there had only been ten of them, even twenty, she might have broken free again and again, until at last she reached Cefor. But there were scores of them, perhaps hundreds. When she broke from one group she was in the middle of another.
She stopped fighting at last, thinking she had no strength left. But when they began to drag her away from the lights of Cefor she found a reserve of strength that she hadn't known about. It made no difference.
She didn't see Yvonne, if it had been Yvonne. She was dragged for what seemed miles. The Greys were very gentle with her. They took all she was able to give them rather than scratch her skin. Now they folded her up at the foot of a tree, holding her so that she went down easily, naturally. Then they tied vines about her neck.
For a moment Virginia had hoped, half feared that they were going to throttle her. But instead they wound the rope about her throat, holding her plastic suit tight against her skin. Then they cut the suit neady below the rope, fastened the plastic edge firmly against her skin with an adhesive binding, and removed the rope.
Obviously they wanted her to go on breathing through the filter in her hood, but to have the rest of her accessible. They reached over her and she flinched, expecting them to strip her, but they only tied her hands and ankles and patted her all over, making sure she had no concealed weapons.
Then they left her. In a moment there wasn't a Grey in sight.
She was helpless even to damage herself. She could roll on her side and rub her plastic hood on the ground in an effort to tear it and let the poisonous air reach her lungs—but that would take hours, and she didn't think she would be left alone that long.
"Don't say I didn't warn you," said Warren.
Her head jerked up, but she couldn't see him. Then, fantastically, his head appeared from the tree beside her. He was standing within it.
"Warren Blackwelll" she gasped. "You herel"
"I've never been more than a hundred yards away since you left the ship," he said. "Sorry, Virginia, it was the only way it could be done. I've got the trick of thinking like a Grey. But it would never fool the Greys for hours at a time. They would sense the human thoughts—unless there was another human about, thinking like a human."
He grinned down at her. "I told you they couldn't read thoughts. That wasn't quite right. They can read emotions-like fear. And they would know if you expected to get through. They'd have wondered what you were counting on. Then they'd have found me."
"But . . ."
"They rely on this sense of theirs—just as dogs rely on scent rather than sight. They weren't likely to see me, and they didn't. And if that litde fool Glamour hadn't interfered we'd both have got through. I meant to get just ahead of you. Then, when the Greys finally decided to take you, I'd have helped you to cut and shoot your way through.
"But Glamour spoiled it. God knows what she was trying to do. I told them all to stay where they were, that we'd get through. Maybe she thought it was easy and wanted some of the glory. Anyway, I didn't know about her until a few minutes ago. She was behind us both. And there were so many Greys between you and her, I had to hide."
"Well, don't waste time," said Virginia. "Cut me loose and well—
"No can do. They'd pick you up again long before we got to Cefor—whether we looked for Glamour or left her here. And then they'd know about me. No, there's only one way. I'll have to wait until there's less of them between here and Cefor and then try to get through myself. I'll be back."
"Can you get through alone?"
"I think so. I'm safe so long as I'm near you. By the time they sense me it'll be too late. But listen, Virginia. If they sense us coming back—men from Cefor and me—they'll drag you and Glamour away and that'll be the end of you. You must keep them here."
"I?" She nodded at her bonds. "What do you expect me to do?"
"That's up to you." He paused; went on tensely. "They'll start torturing you soon. That will occupy them. They'll be too excited to know we're coming. Don't be noble. Let them start on that little fool. Don't try to escape. They might not bring you back here."
He grinned again. "I think I can start now. Good luck-again."
He faded away into the mist. Virginia stared after him, though she could see nothing. If he had only told her. . . . But she realized he probably told the truth when he said he hadn't dared. Knowing he was about, she would have been sure she would get through safely—though she had hated him, she had never doubted his competence—and then the Greys would have caught them both.
There was sound again in the silence of the mist. They were bringing in Yvonne—Glamour, as Warren called her. She was shouting, kicking, clawing. And the Greys weren't handling her as gently as they had handled Virginia. Perhaps they had some respect for coinage, Virginia thought. She had never been in a blue funk as Yvonne was. Maybe it was because of that that they had been gentle with her.
And perhaps—she couldn't help thinking of it—perhaps they would work on Yvonne first.
It seemed like a dream—not a nightmare yet, for the Greys looked ludicrous rather than dangerous. There were hundreds of them. They filled the clearing; though Yvonne was only twenty yards away, she might have been a million miles for all that was visible of her. Virginia was lifted to her feet by what seemed like a hundred hot, wet Greys, and as they led her, still bound, to where she had last seen Yvonne the whole thing seemed more a practical joke than any thing else.
Then abruptly it stopped being a practical joke.
They had cut Yvonne's suit like hers, leaving nothing but the hood over her head, fastened at the neck. Yvonne was wearing a blouse and shorts and looked like the heroine of a jungle picture. When she saw Virginia she tried to get up to go to her.
But the Greys stopped that by pinning her to the ground with two knives through her hands. Her shriek went through Virginia's head like a needle.
Four of the Greys held Virginia so that she had to watch what was going on. She shut her eyes, but when Yvonne screamed again they had to come open.
If the Greys had shouted and danced and beat drums it would have been less horrible. But the only sounds were those forced from Yvonne. There were plenty of those.
To keep her sanity Virginia concentrated desperately on Warren, making his way toward Cefor. He needed time. Suddenly, after a long spell of relaxation, she flung herself forward, tore free and pitched beside Yvonne, who was still, she realized, only mildly hurt beside what was to come.
"Warren's gone for help," she murmured. "Hold out a little and he'll be back."
As the Greys dragged Virginia to her feet again Yvonne screamed wildly: "Why do you leave her alone? Why do you only torture me? I can't take any more. She can take it. She's strong. Please leave me alone. Please . . . aahhhhl"
She shrieked again as a Grey bent over her with a knife. She wasn't screaming now for nothing . . .
It was almost an hour later that they brought Warren in. It had seemed like days to Virginia and probably untold centuries to Yvonne. When she saw him being forced into the clearing by a mass of struggling Greys, Virginia stared in horror. She had always believed he would get through. The question had merely been whether he would be in time. He wouldn't look at her. He stared impassively at Yvonne instead.
They hadn't touched Virginia yet, beyond holding her still —but it must be close to her time. If they weren't going to let Yvonne die, they couldn't do much more to her. There was very little blood. The Greys had a herb that seemed to close the skin, though it left an angry purple discoloration. Yvonne was almost all purple. For some time she had had no strength to
scream. The Greys were losing interest in her. Further torture had no noticeable effect. She was conscious, but she didn't seem to feel fresh cuts.
They must have had some invisible means of communication among themselves. Suddenly, as if as a signal, they turned to Virginia, and with a sick feeling at her stomach she knew her time had come.
"I always wondered," said Warren curiously, "what kind of figure you had."
But, not being human, the Greys didn't strip her. They merely stretched her on the ground and cut her bonds, waiting for her to make a dash for it. That was part of the fun.
Suddenly Warren tore himself free. But instead of running from the clearing he threw himself at Virginia. "Play up," he panted. "They won't know what to do. They'll wait to see what happens. It will amuse them to see us fighting."
"Then you did get through?"
"Sure I got through. I said I would, didn't I? But we have to give them something to think about. So that they won't sense the men closing in. Fight, damn you. We're not out of the wood yet. If we give them time to think . . ."
His breath left him in a gasp as Virginia's hard fist sank into his stomach.
While the Greys watched they fought for their lives. But not against each other, though that was part of it. They didn't care if they were hurt. If the fight was too tame to excite the Greys they would be hurt much more. It means nothing to the Greys that they were a man and a woman. The Greys were monogeneous and had never quite worked out the relationship of human men and women.
Virginia's hood was torn, and she wondered if the Greys would stop the fight. From then on she was breathing poison. But it didn't matter. She would either be safe in six hours or as near dead as made no difference. She tore off the hood altogether and threw it from her, jerking her hair back out of her eyes.
Donald A. Wollheim (ed) Page 7
