Collected Fiction

by Henry Kuttner

  Sharn herself was in a sad state, ragged and torn, with an automatic pistol stuck in her belt and her platinum hair disheveled. But her eyes glowed with excitement.

  She drew Janet into the pneumo-car, and the savage girl followed docilely. Dazed, Woodley followed. Sharn sent the car racing to his suite.

  “There’s not much time,” she said, sinking down exhaustedly into a chair. “But I’ll have to explain.”

  Janet was wandering about the room with dull curiosity. Woodley took his eyes from her.

  “You found Janet.”

  “Yes. You told me enough, so that wasn’t difficult. I found weapons.” She touched her pistol “And I made my way to the Eastern Ocean. I found Janet.”

  “But why?”

  Sharn made a weary gesture. “There’s so much to tell, so little time. I knew you loved her, Kent Woodley. And I thought somehow that our plans of revolt might fail. If they did, I intended to bring Janet here, induce the Senate to cure her. You’d have her, even if you were unable to save mankind.

  Woodley found it difficult to speak. “You did that? But why?”

  “There’s no time to talk. Center is in danger of a new menace. Do you remember Rogur?”

  “Of course. He left the city.”

  “He hates the hedonists viciously. All his thoughts gathered about that single focus. He wants—well, he calls it revenge. If he can destroy Center, he’ll be satisfied. He has organized an army of the savages to march on Center.”

  “The savages?” Woodley blurted. “They haven’t enough intelligence.”

  “Intelligence wasn’t necessary. He played on the one emotion they understand. Their lives are devoted to searching for food. They’re always hungry, every tribe of them. He’s spent these past months in wandering around, telling them that all the food and loot they want is in Center, ready for the taking. I saw his army. It’s incredibly large.”

  “But savages!”

  “Savage beasts, thousands of them, outnumbering my people ten to one! The hedonists have no weapons. We’ve always relied on our isolation.”

  Still Woodley was unconvinced. “But Center can withstand a flood, Sham. The savages can’t get in.”

  “Rogur made that flood. He dynamited the dam up the valley. The moat is no longer a barrier. It’s filled with water to the edge, and the savages can swim across. Right now those hordes are marching on Center, plowing through the mud of the valley. Rogur has given them guns.”

  “Even if he succeeds, he can’t use the ray machine. He doesn’t understand it. He’s no longer a scientist. He’s senile.”

  “I know. But what can we do? We have no weapons—”

  “But I have!” said a harsh voice from the wall.

  WOODLEY spun around at the words. The pneumo-car panel was open. Standing within the room, a pistol aimed unwaveringly, was Rogur! His dark, young face was alight with somber triumph.

  “Don’t move, Woodley,” he said. “Nor you, Sharn.”

  His free hand held a submachine-gun. He lowered it carefully to the floor. Stepping forward gingerly, he took the girl’s weapon.

  “Rogur, you fool!” Woodley said. “You can’t—”

  “Be still! Tie him, Sham. Use curtain-cords.”

  The girl looked at Woodley. He slowly nodded, turned to Rogur again.

  “This is insane. You’ll wreck everything.”

  But Rogur merely watched impassively as Sham bound Woodley. When she had finished, he found more cords and tied her securely. Then he tested Woodley’s bonds and, dissatisfied, tightened them. He stood above the two prostrate figures on the floor, smiling as though with an effort.

  “I followed you, Sham,” he said. “I swam the moat, pushing a ladder before me to mount the wall. I followed you here and listened. You’ll have no chance to warn the hedonists now. The savages are already outside the city. I know the way to the master control room. I’ll open all the gates, extend all the bridges. I’ll throw open all the windows of Center, so that the savages can enter without difficulty. They know only the law of killing.”

  He picked up the submachine-gun. “As you said, Sharn, your people have no weapons. I’ll have little difficulty, though I anticipate none at all.” He patted the gun’s stock. “I had a great deal of trouble in finding ammunition. Most of what I did find was useless.”

  He drew the automatic he had taken from Sham. After a quick glance around, he aimed it at the floor and squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened.

  “The rooms are insulated, but you see? You never tried to fire this, Sharn. If you had, you’d have realized that there aren’t many guns or shells that would explode after a century and a half.”

  “But I—” Woodley said.

  He stopped suddenly, remembering that he had discovered a usable gun in wrecked New York. Still that might have have been a freak accident.

  Rogur smiled. “I looked for and found an airtight storage vault where weapons were kept. It was made by a munitions company to store dynamite, but there were guns and ammunition, too. I tested and repaired what I needed. Now I’m ready to destroy Center.”

  “What about afterward?” Woodley said sharply. “What then?”

  “I’ll use the ray projector, restore mankind’s memory.”

  “You don’t know how. It’s being dismantled. You couldn’t put it together, and if you did, you couldn’t operate it.”

  There was a flash of anger in the dark, young face. It gave place to a contemptuous smile.

  “You will see.”

  “You senile fool!” Woodley snarled. “Your mind cracked long ago. You’re no longer a scientist. You’re nearly as stupid as the savages!”

  Rogur went as white as though he had been struck across the mouth. Without a word he turned, entered the pneumo-car and closed the panel behind him.

  A HEAVY silence fell. Sharn lay motionless, her eyes closed. Woodley watched her. Death was marching toward them, he knew, and upon the unwarned, unarmed hedonists as well—the laughing, helpless, beauty-loving people Woodley had come to know so well. The thought was horrible to him.

  He struggled against his bonds. It was useless. Rogur had done his work well. Nor could Woodley wriggle toward Sham to free her. Rogur had tied him to the leg of a heavy couch, and the girl to the opposite leg.

  At last he relaxed, gasping with effort. What was happening? He thought of Rogur, moving like a tower of destruction amid Center, armed with the vicious submachine-gun, going resistlessly toward the central control room to open the gates that would admit the savage hordes . . .

  “I am sorry,” Sharn said. “Not only to see my people die, but for you. I had hoped that you and Janet would be happy again.”

  Woodley turned his face toward her.

  “I’ve been an incredible fool,” he said hoarsely. “I misunderstood so much that you knew. You love me, don’t you, Sharn?”

  She bit her lip and shook her head.

  “I love you,” he breathed incredulously. “I know it now.”

  “You love Janet,” she insisted. “All your thoughts were colored by her.”

  Woodley’s smile was bitter.

  “A century and a half ago there was a man named Kent Woodley,” he said. “He was an ordinary fellow, fairly wealthy. He never had to work. He was pretty much of a hedonist himself. He loved Janet, because she was fragile, lovely, soft. She was like him, a reflection of that Kent Woodley.”

  Sham did not speak.

  “Kent Woodley has changed from an idle, hedonistic wastrel to an older, harder man, with certain ideals. I thought I still loved Janet. She typified all I had lost, that whole civilization in which I once lived. She was a symbol. I mistook the symbol for the reality. But I was changing all the time, Sharn. And the man I now am loves you.”

  Sham’s eyes were closed, but tears trickled past them to her cheeks.

  “I’m glad, Kent. And I’m glad Janet will never know. I wouldn’t want to see her hurt.”

  Through the room a voice bla
sted suddenly.

  “Danger! To your apartments, swiftly! Stay there. Wait! Center is being attacked by savages. Central Control is in the hands of an enemy. He has opened the gates and sent out the bridges. He has opened the windows in the towers. Go to the higher central buildings at once! Stay away from the walls. Savages are attacking us!”

  Woodley abruptly turned into ice. Rogur had succeeded!

  “The controls have been smashed,” the voice continued. “The man who did it has fled, after killing many of our people. We cannot close the city. Go to the central towers!”

  Sharn smiled sadly.

  “So we perish,” she whispered. “The world will be the poorer for our passing, I think. So much beauty will be lost forever.”

  Woodley could not speak. He was watching the girl. There was the sound of a soft footfall. Woodley turned his head.

  He saw Janet. He had forgotten her. She came out now from an adjoining chamber, stood staring dully.

  An insane hope flashed into Woodley’s mind. Perhaps there was a chance, after all!

  “Janet,” he said softly. The vacanteyed girl looked at him. “Janet, come here.”

  After a pause she obeyed.

  “Untie me,” he said hopefully.

  But this Janet’s dulled mind could not understand. Sharn was watching despondently. Woodley gritted his teeth and thought frantically.

  “Kneel down,” he said. “That’s it. Put out your hands. Here, on this cord. Untie the knot.”

  She did not understand.

  “Wait,” Sharn cried suddenly. “Janet, that cord is good to eat! Put it in your mouth. That’s right. Now chew it.”

  Dazedly, uncomprehendingly the savage girl obeyed. Her strong teeth bit into the strands of cord. She stopped.

  “Go on,” Sham encouraged. “It’s good to eat, Janet, very good.”

  Abruptly the bonds parted. Woodley wrenched his hands free. With frantic, desperate speed he began to work on the other knots.

  “To the central towers!” the audiovoice shouted. “The savages are attacking. We cannot fight them!”

  HE freed himself from the couch-leg. He hobbled to a table, broke a vase and used a sharp fragment on the remaining cords. Hurriedly he released Sharn. Again the voice cried: “To the central towers!”

  Woodley dragged Janet toward the wall, pressed the button that would bring the pneumo-tube car to this level. He pushed the two women into the vehicle. Sham’s eyes were wide.

  “What can we do, Kent?” she pleaded.

  “I don’t know, but I have an idea.” He sent the car hurtling toward the Senate chamber. It did not take long. As he had hoped, the rulers of the city were there, talking with nervous haste.

  Woodley burst into their midst without ceremony. He gripped the graybeard’s shoulder, spun him around.

  “A man named Rogur is leading the savages!” the audio-voice shrilled. “He is outside the moat now, urging them on!”

  “You’ve got to listen to me,” Woodley said. “I can save Center. You’ve got to listen!”

  A murmur went up from the Senators. All eyes were on Janet. A savage, here? Sharn drew the girl protectingly behind her.

  “Never mind her,” Woodley rapped out. “The savages are entering Center. We haven’t any time at all.”

  “We cannot fight,” the graybeard said. “We have no weapons.”

  “You have the counter-ray!”

  There was a stunned silence. Woodley plunged on.

  “You can’t stop a horde of armed savages. They’ll kill your people to the last man. You can’t protect yourself from brutes. But if you gave them back their memories, you could appeal to their reason.”

  The gray man caught his breath. “Repair the projector! You can still do it, can’t you?”

  “Yes,” a woman said. “It will take time.”

  “Put every technician on it!” Woodley ordered. “It’s the only chance you have. The savages are attacking because they’re savages. Give them back their memories, let them be civilized human beings again—not beasts—and they will revolt against Rogur. Lift the curse of immortality from them!”

  “It is your duty,” Sham said. “You must save your people!”

  Abruptly the room was galvanized into activity. The Senate leader was snapping swift orders. His subordinates raced to obey.

  “We’ll work fast,” he promised Woodley. “If only the savages don’t—”

  “Rogur is urging them on. It would be easier if I could get rid of him. Wait! You said there are no weapons. But when I came to Center, I had a gun. Where is it now?”

  “Why, in Storeroom X-Three, I think.”

  “I know where it is.” Woodley turned to Sharn. “Get to safety. Take Janet with you. The central towers will probably be the last to go.”

  She met his eyes gravely.

  “Good luck . . . my dear.”

  He kissed her for the first time, perhaps, he thought, for the last. Teeth clamped grimly together, he fled to the nearest pneumo-tube car.

  THE savages had not yet reached that storage building, and it did not take long to find the weapon. Woodley examined it hurriedly. It seemed in workable shape. But only two bullets remained, no more. And Rogur had a submachine-gun.

  But Rogur had to be stopped. Without leadership, perhaps the savages might hesitate for a little while. Meanwhile the skilled technicians of Center would be working desperately to repair the ray projector.

  Woodley took a car to the city wall. The sound of rising tumult was all around him. The savages looted and fed greedily, trampling down the gardens, smashing, blindly destroying. More than one enemy rose up to block his way, but Woodley did not waste bullets. His hard, strong body was a match for any savage. He used the gun as a club, knocking his opponents into insensibility. He did not wish to kill.

  There was only one whom he wished to destroy. That was Rogur. Killing the senile, ruthless scientist was a necessary task.

  He saw Rogur at last, on the opposite side of the water-filled moat, standing on a little knoll and driving the savages on. For nearly a mile about Center a surging mob of half-naked men drove toward the city. They poured across the bridges, swam the moat, remorselessly driven by hunger, the only impulse they knew. In the city was food. For the sake of food they would be unable to replace, a blind horde had come to destroy the only light in a dark world.

  If that light went out, it would be Judgment Night!

  Outside the city, the savages were less formidable somehow. They pushed on in the bright moonlight. Their only thought was to reach the city, to enter it. They ignored Woodley as he sprang out on one of the bridges and battled against the flood of humanity. He held his gun ready, but he did not have to use it. There was only the ever-present danger of being pushed off the bridge into the water by the insensate mob.

  Would the gun work? Woodley had already fired one bullet from it, but he remembered Rogur’s words. Few weapons could be used after a century and a half. The two remaining bullets might be duds. There was only one way to find out.

  Almost at the end of the great bridge Woodley paused, seeing Rogur clearly in the bright moonlight. He lifted his gun, changed his mind and drove on again. He dared not risk his two bullets unnecessarily.

  Rogur had not yet glimpsed him. The strong, young figure towered above the horde like an evil god, the dark face alight with an exalted sort of triumph. He held the submachine-gun loosely in one hand.

  Without quite knowing how he got there, Woodley was only twenty feet from Rogur, at the foot of the knoll. He stood alone. The savages swirled like water about the hillock and left a small bare spare beyond it. Woodley lifted his gun.

  Rogur saw him, flung the machine-gun into position. But he would have cut down his own men with a stream of slugs. He dropped the machine-gun, whipped out a revolver. He and Woodley fired simultaneously.

  The dark figure on the knoll staggered back, clutching at its side. Woodley heard Rogur’s bullet whistle past his head. He took ste
ady aim once more. He had merely wounded the scientist, he knew. That was apparent when Rogur again lifted his weapon.

  Neither man fired. A high-pitched, shrill humming shook the air. Earpiercing and agonizing it rang out for an instant, seeming to disorganize the very atoms of Woodley’s mind. He felt brief agony.

  It passed. There was silence. The savage hordes were frozen motionless, as though turned into ice.

  Then from them rose a cry in a woman’s voice, frightened and hysterical. Other cries blended into it. Slowly the roar of innumerable voices thundered up against the sky.

  But the voices were not inarticulate, not mindless!

  The hedonists had succeeded. They had repaired the ray projector, turned it on—lifted the curse of immortality from all the Earth!

  Dazed and uncomprehending, the mob surged back and forth. Those in the moat swam shoreward, helping others who suddenly found they could not swim. It was as though those who had been plunged into slumber on Judgment Day were abruptly awakened, to find themselves in a place they had never seen before. All over the world, Woodley knew, this strange awakening was happening.

  He looked up at Rogur. The scientist stood motionless, the gun dangling forgotten from his hand. His gaze wandered out over the army he had raised. His eyes were blind and bright.

  He saw doom, Woodley knew. The feeble, senile mind, which eventually had focused only upon the destruction of the hedonists, now saw even that plan fail. Roger Garth had wanted prestige, the recognition of mankind. Roger Garth had given up love to follow his doomed star. Roger Garth had almost destroyed the world!

  The mob surged past, ignoring the figure on the knoll. Roger Garth was ignored—forgotten!

  Only Woodley saw what happened then. Garth—no longer Rogur—stared uncomprehendingly at the gun in his hand. He lifted it to his temple.

  The sound of the shot went unheard amid the tumult.

  IT was hours later before Woodley and Sham were alone and able to talk. In his suite they stood looking out at the trampled ruin of the garden.