by Jerry Sohl
"What's it like out there?" Bill asked, sitting beside Travis on the washing platform, extending a package of cigarettes.
"It's hell," Travis said, taking a cigarette. He smoked it and told Bill about Dr. Wilhelm's theory, about the conditions in the Streets, the girls at the city hall, his attempt to tell the men at the Associated Press office in Chicago about the girls there who were carrying the machines around.
"It's pretty plain now," Dr. Leaf said later during the discussion that followed, "that the machine in the Winthrop Street house wasn't turned on full power. It only took those in the neighborhood and those very slowly. The one found in the girl's room was much more deadly. The ruin in town attests to that We thought we were going to have a longer time, but it caught up with us before we got started."
"That's what we thought, too," Bill said. "I thought we had plenty of time to run down the black boxes. I sent out all the radiomen in the trucks and then one by one they began to drop off sick.
"As soon as we lost some men I got into a truck and went out myself. I actually tracked down two machines before a group of women in a police car stopped me and took me prisoner. It was about 9:30 then. They took me to the county jail and threw me in with a lot of other men. I tried to explain to the women I wasn't a looter, that I was a radioman trying to locate the dangerous radiations, but they just laughed. In fact," he said, "one of them had a mighty good right." He rubbed his jaw.
The men in the jail were succumbing one after the other. All I did was wait for myself to go. I never did, of course. It was a long half hour before the women came back. They seemed surprised to find I was still alive, had a conference on what to do. Then they brought me out here." He lit a cigarette. "I listened to your explanation of these women, these haploids, as you call them. They don't look different from other women to me."
"They're not," Dr. Leaf said, "except in cell structure. The same thoughts, the same organs, the same everything, including the same ambitions. I rather fear the ambitions are responsible for this. As I see it they consider themselves something new, which they are, and probably think themselves superior, which a lot of minority groups have done in world history. I think they're out to eradicate every Y chromosome in the world and every man with it."
"It's reasonable," Bill said, rubbing his stubbled jaw again. "What you said about Dr. Wilhelm's theory of the Y chromosome makes that part of it seem simple enough. But what about our Y chromosomes? How do you account for the fact that we're not affected?"
Dr. Leaf shook his head. "It may be it will take longer with, us. Or just as it seemed so impossible in the beginning that a single ray could have created all this havoc, so will the reason for our immunity, if we are immune, be a simple matter when it is explained."
Travis looked around the room. "Twenty-four of us, survivors of a city of 60,000. It's incredible that we should have survived, yet here we are. Perhaps there does exist in each of us a seed of survival. If we could only discover what it is!"
The man who had been introduced to them as Charlie McClintock turned to Travis.
"These women want to know what it is, too," he said. "I'm pretty sure of that. The first guys in here were given a pretty thorough going over, I understand. What were you telling me about that, Margano?"
Margano, a dark-haired man who was stretched out on the mattress, raised his head. "I was the first," he said. "These babes brought me in, stripped me and put me through the wringer."
Dr. Leaf was interested. "Just what did they do?"
Margano sat up. "Oh, they just put me on the scales, tested my blood pressure—they put that thing around my arm, just like in the army, blew it up like a balloon. They measured my height, took an X-ray and then they made me urinate in a bottle. I had a hell of a time doing that. The damned girls kept standing there watching me." He grinned embarrassedly. Several men laughed.
"Did they do anything else?" the doctor insisted.
Margano was thoughtful, rubbed his nose, narrowed his eyes, and looked at the ceiling. "Yeah, I think so. Oh, yeah, they took a blood sample. They listened to my heart, too, examined my teeth and one of them babes put on an outfit and looked down my throat. I think that's all. No—one more thing. They cut off a piece of my ear." He put his hand up to a bandaged place on his ear.
Dr. Leaf grinned. "Thought you might be a haploid, eh?"
"Yeah. I heard you guys talking about that. There was one woman in charge upstairs during the whole thing. She seemed to be the big cheese. Everybody jumped when she said anything. They kept calling her Dr. Gonner or something like that."
"Gonner?" Travis asked, startled. "Could it be Garner?"
"Yeah," Margano nodded. "That's it."
"Was she a cute blonde, about so high, pretty face, quite a figure and—"
"You're on the wrong track," Margano laughed. "This was the opposite. An older woman. Gray hair. Two of the scariest gray eyes I ever saw. She'd look right through you."
Dr. Leaf sank back on the wooden platform. "That test you had doesn't mean anything. Pretty standard anywhere."
"I didn't get the test," Charlie McClintock said. "All I got was a blood test."
There were cries of "Me, too."
"Wait a minute." Travis was on his feet. "You were the first, Margano. That right?" Margano said it was. "Who was second?" Marvin Peters spoke up.
"What kind of a test did you get?" Travis asked. "Just like Margano's. The works."
"Who was third?"
Kleiburne stuck up his hand. "They found me raising hell in; front of the Beer Barrel Tavern. I saw all the guys going out like lights, so I decided to end it all with as much demon as I could drink. I had hardly got started, though, when they picked me up in one of their patrol wagons, dumped me in the basement of the library with a lot of other guys. Two of us, McNulty over there and I, survived out of that bunch. The rest went gray and turned up their toes. The girls came back and took us out. If we'd been smart we'd have pretended to be dead. I'm sure several others did.
"They brought us here and started to give us the tests just like Margano and McClintock. In the middle of it this gray-haired old bitch came in and says, 'Never mind the rest, girls, just test the blood.' That's all they did with us."
"Fourth? That's you, McNulty. Fifth?"
Stone raised his hand. "Just blood."
"Sixth?"
Gus Powers coughed. "Same here."
"Seventh?"
Perry Williams put up his hand. "They didn't do nothin' with me. Just tossed me down here."
The rest of them spoke up. None of them had been given a blood test.
"O.K., Dr. Leaf," Travis said. "Does it mean to you what it does to me?"
"I think so," Dr. Leaf said excitedly. "At first they give every man a thorough examination because they don't know why any of them should still be alive. Then they find something. It must be in the blood. The old woman referred to needs a couple more tests to make sure. They do make sure. Then they don't need to test any more."
"What is it, then?" Bill asked.
"It's right here," Travis said. "What's your blood type, Margano?"
"In the army I wore dog tags with an AB on them."
"O.K. How about yours, Kleiburne?"
"AB."
"Peters?"
"AB, I think."
"McNulty?"
"I don't know."
"How about yours, Stone?"
"Type AB. Could it be anything else?"
"Pretty obvious, isn't it? Anybody here whose blood type isn't AB?" No hand was raised.
"That's it, then," Dr. Leaf said. "It's reasonable, too. We're really in luck."
"In luck?" Travis asked. "What do you mean by that?"
The doctor adjusted his glasses, smiled wryly. "Let me explain it this way. The Y chromosomes, like all other chromosomes, consist of long strings of genes packed together like little discs. Like a roll of dimes. All of the Y chromosomes containing the blood genes A, genes B, or genes O, are susceptible to the g
amma radiations we have spoken of.
"Now in these cells which contain the Y chromosomes and the forty-seven others are certain substances produced by these genes known as antigens. These antigens form no protection in ordinary blood, but the combinations of the antigens produced by the genes A and B in blood type AB produce, among other things, the very antigens that must render us all in this room immune to the same radiations that have been killing off the others.
"The antigens are simply nitrogen-containing carbohydrates, but don't ask me now they form a protective shell against these emanations. Let's just be thankful they do the job. No wonder the female hormones, the krebiozen and other substances we tried didn't work."
"But what's this about being in luck?" Bill Skelley asked impatiently.
"I'm getting to that," the doctor said. "The AB type blood could be immune just as people without a specific tasting gene can't taste a certain substance, like phenylthio-carbamide—PTC, we call it—it's a substance in point. Some can sense its bitter taste, others can't. Now about this being lucky. Travis, what is the population of Union City?"
"About 60,000."
"Then we are in luck. Assuming half of them are women and assuming I'm remembering the figures correctly, there must be about 1,800 men still alive in Union City!"
"Impossible!" Travis exploded. "We didn't see anybody."
"No. I'm serious. AB type blood is the rare type. As I remember it, about six percent of the people in the U.S. have this kind of blood. Around 1,800 of them could be in hiding in the city. Of course some of them would be old men, some would be small children. I suppose some are the unborn. But there is a nucleus to fight this thing, if they all survived."
"A nucleus now cowering in buildings, or being picked up or shot by the haploids. You remember how that squad of haploid police disposed of the old man on the street."
"That's true," the doctor said. "They may be cowering because they aren't familiar with what's going on as we are. If we could only inform them!"
"Yeah," McClintock said. "Let's just walk out and inform them. Tell these babes we're getting out of here."
"Hell, we've been all over this room," Bill said. "They've got guards posted all around with guns."
"Well, let's not give up hope," Travis said. "Maybe we can think of something."
The inside basement door suddenly burst open, hit the wall behind it a resounding whack and as it rebounded a white hand steadied it. Half in and half out of the room stood a tall woman with gray hair and a glint of mad hilarity in her eyes. The lips of the thin face were drawn down in disdain, her eyebrows heavy, her head erect and proud. Her hair was a sort of pompadour, her complexion almost colorless. She had the look of an ascetic. She was clad in doctor white and several young girls behind her were similarly attired and armed.
Margano was right, Travis thought. Her eves are scary. So that was Dr. Garner! The gal who could look right through you. It made Travis's spine tingle the way she was looking at him. He wondered if Betty could be her daughter.
"So you think you'll think of something, eh, Travis?" The lips registered a sarcastic grin. "Just when do you think you'll do this?"
Just then a thin man detached himself from the group. It was a man whose name Travis had forgotten. He was unkempt, looked as if he needed a good meal. Then Travis realized he and the others looked like that, too. The man went to her nervously.
"Please, ma'am," he said in a squeaky voice, "let me go back. I was on the way to the drugstore to get my wife some medicine when I was picked up. She's sick, my wife is."
For an answer the woman clouted him with the back of her hand. The man sank to his knees.
"Please, please," he begged. "It's only for my wife I'm asking. She'll die." He started to sob, put his head in his hands.
Dr. Garner aimed a well-placed kick that hit his hands, cracked his head back, sent him sprawling on the floor.
"For God's sake!" she said. "Get rid of that sniveling old man. The next thing you know he'll be vomiting on the floor."
Travis felt his muscles grow taut. His fists clenched so that he could feel the fingernails biting into the flesh of his palm. Blood pounded in his head. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw several of the men inching toward the woman.
"Steady, boy," Dr. Leaf breathed in his ear. There were two shots. The man on the floor jerked and twisted as the slugs hit him. There was another shot. He lay still. Two women came into the room, dragged him out, trailing a long, bright line of crimson. Travis felt almost ill. Several of the men turned away.
"Nice AB blood on the floor," the woman said, scanning the faces in the group. "Wonderful blood to have, we understand." She turned to Dr. Leaf. "An interesting comment you made about antigens, Doctor," she said. "I suppose it sounds something like cloak and dagger, but we have wired the basement for sound. It may amuse you to know we have been listening to your conversations down here. It used to be a place we'd send patients when we couldn't think of what else to do with them." She smiled sweetly.
"You'd be surprised at some of the things they called us down here."
The woman came into the room, walked around looking at the men. "The X factor in our little equation. That's what you all are. According to Dr. Leaf there ought to be many like you in Union City. Well, if they're all like you I guess we have nothing to fear." She stopped in the middle of the room. "In case you are wondering what is going to happen to you all, I will set your minds at rest. You'll all be dead by morning. Since you now know why you are alive, you must also realize we are not bringing in any more of your brothers. They are being eliminated wherever we find them in the city.
"As far as how you will meet your end, I don't know. That is one little detail you might be thinking about. Perhaps some of you might have some suggestions to offer. What about you, Doctor? Do you have any suggestions, any favorite ways to die?"
The doctor did not answer. She approached him.
"You have some semblance of intelligence and balance," she said. -Then she turned to Travis. "Perhaps you two would like to see a real laboratory. A place years ahead of the times. You will not of course live long enough to see the culmination, the rule by a haploid race. . . ."
"So, it is true—"
"You've said the word yourself, Doctor. Of course it's true. Come along. It will be interesting explaining it all to you. There is a remote possibility you two might even appreciate what you are going to see." She turned and walked to the door, Travis and Dr. Leaf following her. She let them go through the door first. Two women guards with drawn guns stepped to their sides.
"Never mind, girls," Dr. Garner said. "I think they'll be harmless.. Just follow us around at a distance. If either starts anything you might act, but otherwise give them some air."
The three of them sat in Dr. Garner's office, just as if it were an afternoon call, except for the guards at the door. The office was a plush affair with soft, indirect lighting. She had tea brought in. served it with cookies.
"I've brought you here first because I think you need some background for what you're going to see. One lump or two, Dr. Leaf?"
"No sugar, please."
"I'll take a lump," Travis said.
The woman stirred her tea. "Do you remember Dr. Tisdial, Doctor?"
"Tisdial?" The doctor was thoughtful. He brightened. "Yes, I believe I do. He was a well-known biologist at Eckert, if I remember him right. A geneticist."
Dr. Garner smiled. "You have a good memory. Yes, Dr. Tisdial taught for many years at Eckert. He was a relatively young man when I met him. I was a student of his." She looked beyond them now, a mood of soft remembrance in her ordinarily hard eyes. "I was rather infatuated with him. He was considerate of me, He asked me to become his secretary when I graduated. I became more than that. I became his wife."
She sipped her tea. "Dr. Tisdial and I were very happy. Together we would spend long hours in the laboratory side by side. He taught me everything he knew. He had a brilliant mind."
; She put her cup down and a strange and faraway look came in her eyes. "I had a brother, too. He was so young. So sweet. So helpless. His name was Ronny. Ronny Garner. He was fair haired and good looking and I wanted him to have everything he dreamed of in this world and I did everything I could to help him get it.
"He was an artist. He painted the most beautiful pictures I ever saw, started when he was a kid. He was always drawing me a picture. He called me Kitty; my real name is Catherine. Here, Kitty,' he'd say. 'Here's a picture for you.' Oh, I loved him."
Her eyes swept to them and they lost their softness. It was odd the way her eyes had the property of clearing and brightening into a hard core of light gray with the back iris, all surrounded by white cornea that gave to her whole eye a look of madness.
"And then the army. They took him away. The night before he left, Ronny came to me and said, I don't want to go, Kitty. I don't want to kill anybody. I love everybody. I love every living thing." He sobbed on my shoulder and I tried to comfort him. Dr. Tisdial came in and saw us there, Ronny's head on my shoulder, crying his heart out.
"Dr. Tisdial didn't understand. And when I tried to explain, he just said, 'Somebody's got to go and kill the Kaiser!' I tried to make him see how Ronny was different, but he'd give me that 'I'm disappointed in you' talk. From then on things were different between Dr. Tisdial and me."
The office was quiet. So quiet you could hear her breathing as her eyes grew glittery and narrow.
"The next morning Ronny was gone. I'll never forget the tragedy written on his sensitive face. Three weeks later he was dead. He died in an army camp. He died because he didn't fit into this mad world. Then is when I made my decision. Men and all their madness must go.
"For centuries men have been the cause of all the wars, of all the bloodshed, the cause of all the ache and pain in every mother and sister who was forced to see her son go off to war to be killed, or to see her son or brother go off to kill, kill, kill and come home with a chest full of ribbons.
"It was going to end. And I was going to make it end. I saw an instrument with which I would wipe out the male animal, the animal who had brought so much misery to himself and to the world's female population. What could a woman do as long as there was a man in the world? The male was the dominant one. Woman could only deceive and trick to gain her end. This was to be ... no more. If, in his passing, man was to suffer a thousand agonies, it was meant to be as his penance for the thousand agonies he had caused his mother."
