by Jerry Sohl
Travis longed for a cigarette as he and the doctor huddled against a brick wall beneath a fire escape he could dimly see above them in the alley. But he did not dare show a light.
"They were haploids, or at least many of them were," Dr. Leaf breathed.
"I had that feeling the moment I set eyes on Mary Hanson," Travis said. "But if she and some of the others were, then they do have a point: Why are we still alive?"
"I don't know."
"Maybe we're not male after all."
The doctor grunted for an answer.
"She got out of it cleverly enough," the doctor said after a few moments. "She didn't want to take the test. That was a plain giveaway, but it still doesn't prove it beyond all doubt. If there are haploids, I wonder now many of them there are."
Before Travis could say anything they could hear a car moving along a neighboring street. In a moment they saw, in the plate glass windows of stores across the street, the reflection of lights on an automobile as it turned the corner.
Both men flattened against the wall, held their breath as the car, in second gear, gathered speed as it came around the corner. It shot down the street and they could see women in the car. Suddenly, as the car was even with the alley, one of the women shot a flashlight beam at them. Car brakes screeched.
"Haploid patrol!" Both the doctor and Travis jumped from their hiding place, sped down the alley.
The car's gears clashed, then the driver stepped on the accelerator and it backed up, turned and came forward down the alley in a rush.
The two men were outlined in the headlights. Their shadows made long gyrations in front of them as they neared the end of the alley. Bullets rang and whined around them as they turned the corner to the other street. The shots made glass tinkle somewhere across the street as the two men ran.
The speeding car careened out of the alley and down the street after them, tires screaming on the pavement.
It's going to be the end, Travis thought, unless . . . The doctor must have had the same thought, for he turned in at a doorway flush with the sidewalk. It opened. The two crashed upstairs three steps at a time. They could hear the car stop outside. The door at the bottom opened behind them.
Travis turned on the top step, saw a figure silhouetted in the open doorway, lights from the car illuminating the stairs. He aimed with the pistol he had taken from the floor of the city hall, had a moment's uneasiness (Don't shoot a woman, some inner voice shouted at him), then he pulled the trigger. The woman dropped. Others were rushing up to her.
The two men ran down the hallway, past doorways behind which candles must have been burning, for keyholes made little dots of light down the dark way. They gained the rear entrance, fled down some rickety stairs to a rear areaway.
This way," Travis said when the doctor made a motion to run toward the alley from which they had just come. They ran through a passageway out to another street. Reflections from windows on the other side of the street showed activity on the adjoining street.
They ran away from it.
When they stopped this time it was not in an alley. Many store fronts had been broken out all along the street. They walked through a broken plate glass window, hid inside a store behind a counter until they recovered their senses.
Several times they saw the ceiling of the store brighten as a car crept down the street. They also saw the light from a spotlight that was thrown in the store. But no one ventured in. At other times it was so quiet even the slightest change in position seemed to echo through the night.
They lay there in the blackness for a long time deciding their next move. They both agreed they should not be there in the morning. If it were true that haploids had taken over things they did not want to be found on the street, either. Besides, they needed to warn other cities, inform other sources of what had happened in Union City.
"If we could get to the Star," Travis said, "we could do at least one thing."
"What's that?"
"The Star is on a nationwide wirephoto circuit. It's a leased wire that goes from New York to Chicago, completes a circuit throughout the entire country, including principal cities in the West. You can pick up the wirephoto phone in the Star and break into the line over which a wirephoto is transmitted. You can talk to practically any place you want."
"That's the answer," Dr. Leaf said. "What are we waiting for? Which way is the Star?"
By fits and starts Travis and Dr. Leaf made their way down the streets which now seemed magically deserted. There were no gangs out now. They stepped over corpses, detoured around car wrecks, avoided places where glass from store windows lay shattered on the walks. Several times they encountered others wandering around in the night, but both parties usually ran before they bumped into one another.
Once they met a man walking down the street talking loudly to himself, half praying, half babbling about nothing, He did not even notice them as they passed him by. Another time they passed a man sitting quietly on a curb, smoking a cigarette. He said nothing as they approached him.
"What are you doing?" Travis asked him, keeping a safe distance.
The man drew on his cigarette. His face lighted with the glow of it.
"I m waiting to die. They're all dead but me." He gave a cackling laugh. "Would you like to kill me? Go ahead. Kill me if you want to. It's all right. It doesn't matter."
"Don't you feel ill?" Dr. Leaf asked.
"No, not yet. But I've seen them go." He laughed again "Death's just playing a little game with me. Oh, he can fool me. I've seen him work. One minute you're here and you think you won't go and the next minute you're turning gray and dying."
"We're not dead yet," Travis said. "Maybe we won't be. Maybe you won't be."
"Are you Death? Have you come to take me away? I'm ready. Please take me with you." The man got to his feet. "Please take me now. I don't want to wait any more." He started for them.
Dr. Leaf and Travis moved away, losing the man in the darkness. As cars came along they dodged into stores. They were near the Star building when a car rounded a corner on another street, illuminating a man walking toward them.
He was an old man. When he saw the light he started to run, but a volley of shots from the car felled him. He lay in the street, quivering, as the car went down the street.
"You can't tell me they're not haploids," Dr. Leaf said.
"I'm not arguing with you," Travis said, pushing lightly against the front door of the Star building. "I don't think regular women would do a thing like that."
The door opened. "Come on," he said.
Together they crept up the marble steps of the Star building, their guarded and light tread seeming to make a thunderous roar in the stone stairwell. Once Travis bumped into something on the stairs. It was a body. He did not wish to discover whose it was, so they kept on.
When they got to the second floor Travis said, "I know where some flashlights are in the photo lab. Let's go there first."
They went down a corridor to the photo lab- and entered it. Travis went to a cupboard, found two flashlights in working order. He shined one of them around experimentally, was startled to see a figure reclining in a chair. They both shined their lights on it. "Hal Cable!" Travis cried.
The chief photographer of the Star sat, a blackened, ulcerated figure, his eyes still open, two empty fifths of whiskey beside him. Travis felt ill. "Poor Hal," he said, turning away.
"Friend?" Dr. Leaf asked testily. "Yes. My best friend."
They made their way from the laboratory out into the corridor, covering the flashlights with their hands, allowing only a pin point of light to show the way.
The editorial rooms were a mess. Papers were strewn everywhere. Several men lay on the floor, blackened. Another figure Travis knew every bit as well as his own was crumpled on the floor at the universal desk. It was the city editor, Cline.
Travis did not wish to examine him closely. "Let's take a look at the wire room," Travis said. Dr. Leaf followed him as they stole
across the room to the glassed-in office that contained the teletype machines.
As they entered the room Travis was gratified to hear a familiar sound. It was an ever-so-faint clicking noise. He took the top off one of the teletype machines, put it on the floor as quietly as he could. He then reached around, withdrew the cap from a relay. Light from his flashlight showed the rapid back-and-forth movement of the relay arm.
"Chicago's still sending," he said. Then he ripped the last message from the teletype, the printing operation of which is accomplished by local power. He spread the long sheet on the floor.
"They stopped working here a little after 10:02 p.m., Dr. Leaf," he said, examining it under the flashlight.
"How can you tell?"
"This was the last message." Together they read the story.
FIRST LEAD RADIATION (URGENT)
CHlCAGO-(AP)-MYSTERY RADIATIONS WHICH CUT OFF RADIO AND TV RECEPTION HERE THIS MORNING
THREATENS TO WIPE OUT CHICAGO'S MALE POPULATION UNLESS FEDERAL COMMUNICATIONS COMMISSION PATROLS FIND ALL THE SENDING UNITS.
LAST WORD FROM UNION CITY REVEALS MO THAN A THOUSAND RESIDENTS OF THAT STRICKEN CITY ARE DYING TONIGHT AFTER TWO DAYS' EXPOSURE TO THE DEADLY RADIATIONS.
A HUNDRED PATROLS, MANY OF THEM INCLUDING LOCAL RADIOMEN PRESSED INTO SERVICE BY THE FCC AND DEPUTIZED BY THE SHERIFF'S OFFICE, ARE SCOURING CHICAGO FOR THE LITTLE BLACK MYSTERY BOXES FROM WHICH THE WAVES ARE SAID TO EMANATE.
THOUGH EVENTS HERE ARE FOLLOWING THE PATTERN SET IN UNION CITY NO SINGLE CASE OF MEN TURNING GRAY HAS BEEN REPORTED BY THE MAYOR'S EMERGENCY DEFENSE COMMITTEE SET UP THIS MORNING TO HANDLE THE CRISIS.
AN ORDER EVACUATING THE CITY IS BEING DRAWN UP IN CASE PATROLS DO NOT LOCATE ALL SOURCES OF THE WAVES, THE MAYOR'S COMMITTEE SAID AT. 9-P.M.
ANOTHER ORDER IS REPORTED IN THE HANDS OF ALL POWER COMPANIES IN THE CHICAGO SERVICE; AREA WHICH WILL CUT OFF ELECTRICAL POWER WHICH IS POWERING THE MACHINES IF THE SOURCES ARE NOT FOUND IN THE NEXT FEW HOURS, THE COMMITTEE SAID.
AN ORDER WAS ISSUED AT 6 P.M. WARNING ALL RESIDENTS TO CLEAR THE STREETS. ONLY RADIO PATROLS, POLICE CARS AND EMERGENCY VEHICLES ARE FREE TO MOVE.
THE 6 P.M. ORDER FOLLOWED NEWS FROM UNION CITY DESCRIBING THE NATURE OF THE WAVES WHICH ARE SAID TO ATTACK MALE CELLS.
CHICAGO NEWSPAPERS ARE ISSUING EXTRAS AND DELIVERING THEM DOOR TO DOOR INFORMING EVERYONE OF THE NEW ORDERS. VOLUNTEERS AT THE TELEPHONE COMPANY ARE CALLING LISTS OF PEOPLE WHO MIGHT NOT BE REACHED BY NEWSPAPER DELIVERY, EXPLAINING THE ORDERS BRIEFLY.
WAC UNITS ORIGINALLY SCHEDULED FOR UNION CITY HAVE BEEN CANCELED. THE UNITS HAVE BEEN ORDERED TO CHICAGO INSTEAD.
RADIATIONS WERE REPORTED IN NEW YORK, COLUMBUS (O), MINNEAPOLIS, PITTSBURGH, SAN FRANCISCO, LOS ANGELES AND WASHINGTON (D.C.) LATE THIS MORNING. MORE THAN 100 OTHER CITIES HAVE REPORTED RADIATIONS SINCE NOON.
MALE POPULATIONS OF SMALLER CITIES HAVE FLED TO THE COUNTRY AREAS WHERE THEY ARE SAID TO BE SAFE FROM THE EMANATIONS.
(PICKUP 4TH GRAF: A MILITARY SPOKESMAN, ETC., ETC.)
CX 10:02P
"What time is it?" Travis asked.
The doctor shined a light on his wrist watch. "It's 12:10."
"If the radiations began in Chicago this morning they won't be having much trouble yet No wonder they're still sending."
Travis walked over to a corner of the telegraph room, picked up the special wirephoto phone. "This phone won't be affected by the power cutoff here," he explained.
"Chicago, Union City. Chicago, Union City," he said into the phone.
"Union City!" The voice at the other end was surprised. "What the hell's happened there? We've been trying all night to get through to you. Who's this?"
"Gibson Travis. I'm calling from the Star."
"This is Burton. All hell is breaking loose up here. The FCC and ham radio boys have located a lot of those boxes, but they don't have all of them by any means. They found girls carrying them around. Imagine that! Girls! They explained, though, that somebody was paying them to do it and they didn't know what they were doing. But hold on— what's going on in Union City?"
"About those girls—" Travis started to say.
"Still the same old Travis, eh?" Burton laughed. "Always an eye for the women."
"Listen, Burton, this thing's serious."
"Of course. Listen, Travis, what's happened out there? The last we heard Cline called in and said the men were dying off like flies. Is this radiation thing that bad?"
"There's hardly a man left in Union City," Travis explained. "They've turned off the electricity, but that hasn't stopped them from keeping some buildings supplied with power. The machines are still sending out their waves from them."
"What's the death toll? Who's dead? Anybody important?"
"Anybody important? Listen, Burton, I'm telling you they are all dead. Mayor Barnston was shot, Chief of Police Riley, Captain Tomkins, Cline, Hal Cable—"
"For God's sake! Cable, too?"
"Yes. They're all gone."
"Are you kidding me? I can't believe—"
"Burton, I want to tell you about those girls."
"O.K., go ahead."
Travis did not speak. There was pressure, as from a finger in his back. A woman who held the gun at his spine spoke almost an inch from his ear.
"Put it down," she said.
He slowly dropped the phone into its cradle, turned around. Dr. Leaf stood a few feet away, a flashlight beam shining in his face. A beam was now thrown at Travis. There was a shuffling of feet.
"We have orders to bring survivors in," the woman breathed. "I don't know why we shouldn't kill you."
"Haven't you killed enough of us?"
The answer was a hard slap across the mouth.
"Shut up!" the woman ordered. "Now get moving. There will be a girl ahead of you with a light. Others of us will be behind you. It's pretty obvious you and others like you are immune. Move!"
Travis's heart gave a jump. Until this moment he had not thought of it. Immunity! For a moment a surge of optimism stirred him, but then as he walked behind the girl with the flashlight he lost it. If the haploids wanted to kill innocent males for some reason, then they would have no compunction about killing two more.
They emerged on the street. A car, its motor running, was parked in front of the building. He stood by, waiting for instructions and Dr. Leaf stood next to him.
"Don't stand there like a couple of statues. Get in the back seat."
That voice. He had heard it before. As he climbed into the car he made out the features of the girl in the front seat.
"Hello, Rosalee," he said.
The girl turned around in surprise, saw him. "Go to hell," she said.
"All right, shut up, everybody," ordered the large woman who got in after them. Two of the women stood on the running boards. The car started to move.
They moved through the city streets, dodging objects in the way, speeding on the clear stretches. At first Travis thought they were headed toward the city hall, but after they passed the turn they would have taken he gave up guessing.
The car kept to the boulevards, then headed down a main street that became a state highway outside of town. they sped past the last houses of the city, built up speed on the open road. There were no other cars.
After twenty minutes the car turned into a driveway flanked by large bushes. They passed under a white arch which bore the legend: FAIRCREST SANITARIUM.
They continued down a winding road that led ultimately to a curved parkway in front of a large white hospital-like structure.
The girls got out, motioned with drawn guns for Travis and Dr. Leaf to go ahead of them. They were not to head for the main entrances. Instead, they were signaled to walk across dewy grass to a sidewalk running along the building to the rear.
A few steps down the sidewalk the guards indicated steps going down. The two men descended. A girl came down, unlocked the door. It opened to a large lighted room. Travis and Dr. Leaf were catapulted into the room, powered by shoves from b
ehind.
The door clicked closed behind them.
TWELVE
There were many men in the room; some were alone, others gathered in groups. Some stood, others sat down. All looked at the newcomers curiously.
The basement was a storeroom and laundry for the sanitarium. There were barred windows high in the walls a little lower than ground level. The only other door was one opposite Dr. Leaf and Travis. Boxes, some of them empty, others full, were stacked about the walls, leaving the center clear.
Most of the men who were sitting down were on the boxes. Others sat on the edge of tubs used for washing which lined one wall almost across its entire length. There were a few old chairs, an old mattress, several pieces of furniture or machinery covered with dropcloths. A lone electric bulb hanging below the floor joists served as the only source of light. It cast eerie shadows.
Travis and Dr. Leaf walked over to the laundry tubs, sat down on a board platform that jutted out from under the tubs. The situation was strained until someone said, "Say, Travis! And Dr. Leaf!"
Travis turned his head, saw one of the men on the mattress who had just raised his head.
"Bill Skelley! We thought you were dead!" Travis was up and so was Bill. They met halfway across the floor and shook hands.
"Well, it's good to meet someone you know," Bill said, a broad grin on his youthful face. He shook hands with the doctor. Then he introduced them around the room.
"This is McClintock,Charlie McClintock."
"Pleased to meet you," Charlie said.
"And this is Marvin Peters, and Powers—Gus, isn't it?— and Tony Webb, and I've forgotten yours ..."
"Perry Williams."
"That's right. You see, we've been here together only a few hours. And this is McNulty, Jacob McNulty, if you please, and Margano, Kleiburne and Stone . . . and here's our youngest, little Bobby Covington." He introduced a boy of twelve who extended his hand.
In a few minutes the two newest prisoners had acknowledged introductions all around. There were twenty men and two boys—twenty-four males altogether, counting Travis and Dr. Leaf. Everyone settled down again, some trying to sleep, others taking up conversations that had been interrupted by the entry of the last two.
