The Haploids

by Jerry Sohl

  The men caught their breath as they heard a truck being started faraway. The engine coughed several times, then took hold. Then they could hear it in gear as it approached the basement entrance.

  Was it a trick? Was this the way Betty and Dr. Garner had decided they should die, making their getaway? Easy targets running down a driveway or getting in a truck? Travis gritted his teeth. I don't believe it is a trick, he told himself. I cannot let myself believe it is.

  The truck crunched to a stop outside the door; its engine sounded like a tractor so near was it and so quiet did they want it to be. Travis turned the key, swung the door open. There was no one in the areaway or on the steps to the driveway. The first group rushed out through the open doorway. There were no shots.

  "Hold it!"

  Travis whirled around with his group, saw three haploids, automatics in their hands, standing by the other basement door.

  Perry Williams made a dive for the outside. One of the haploids, a grin of triumph on her face, moved her gun slightly. It exploded in a single shot that found its mark. Perry staggered, hit the side of the doorway, collapsed to the floor.

  "Fools!" the haploid said, moving toward them. The men, who had been frozen to the spot, now became a frenzy of motion. The haploids had been too confident, did not see the weapons, did not react quickly enough when they did.

  The men struck and the weapon of one haploid clattered across the floor. In a moment the haploids had regained their composure, fought like cats against the charge. A shot rang out... Then two. Jacob McNulty, one of the older men, clutched his arm, jumped around, grimacing in pain. Bill stood with a smoking automatic in his hand, fascinated at the crumpled haploid before him.

  Travis was battling with the girl who had shot Perry Williams. She was a burly brunette who used teeth and fingernails to good advantage. She also knew how to swing a gun around to do the most damage. It was all Travis could do to dodge the full force of the blows.

  It was odd to Travis, this fighting a woman. It almost sickened him. It was only the thought of their ambitions, of their already bloody record and his own life that made him pull no punches.

  The two fell to the floor and struggled there, the woman swearing violently at him as they fought. Travis grabbed her hair, pushed her head forcefully against the cement floor. Then she lay still.

  Three of the older men had tackled the remaining haploid, were working her over in the center of the room. They silenced her in a moment and joined the group around the door.

  Travis, now breathing hard, stood to one side as the others ran through. He could hear them clambering in the truck as he raced up the stairs. He saw the last man swing around the end, then he pulled open the cab door and jumped inside. Betty was there with an automatic in her lap, her hands tense on the wheel, wary eyes on the building. As soon as he was in, the truck lurched forward.

  There were more shots. Travis turned to look through the rear window of the cab. He and the others in the rear of the truck watched the drama down the driveway. Suddenly the entire area was bathed in light. They could see women running from the sanitarium now, guns in their hands, headed toward the garage.

  A truck crept out of the garage. Faster, faster, Travis yelled. Betty thought she wasn't going fast enough so she gunned the motor. The other truck lumbered along the driveway, haploids closing in in a semicircle, shooting at the occupants. Suddenly the truck did not seem to be moving. The men spilled from it, etched in black and white on the driveway, three automatics blazing away at the haploids. Several girls fell. One by one the men were dropping. Suddenly they were out of sight as his truck careened around a corner of the building.

  "Travis!" Betty yelled.

  He whirled around in time to see a group of about ten haploids running out of the front of the sanitarium, rifles and automatics in their hands. They ran toward a curve in the driveway and as the truck headed toward the spot it was evident the haploids would get to it first.

  They neared the group milling about in the middle of the road, confidence on the haploid faces, guns raised for action. Travis reached over and blew the truck horn. The trick worked. The haploids' reflex action, like anyone else's, caused them to become unsteady for a moment. Their aims wavered. A volley of shots ripped around them, but only one came near, drilling a hole in the windshield, burying itself in the metal in the rear of the cab.

  They were within ten feet of the group when Travis leaned out of the open window and shot in their general direction. One of them fell. The others did not move. Betty lowered her head, kept her hands tense on the wheel, her foot on the gas. The truck roared through the group, knocking them aside with sickening thuds. Travis looked back to see them scattered along the road like tenpins.

  The driveway curved farther away now toward the road and the truck was traveling fast. There were several shots from behind them. One of the bullets thudded into the truck body behind Travis's head. He looked just above him. A slug from a rifle was stuck there, its nose peeping through the hole. Another bullet hit the truck somewhere, ricocheting harmlessly.

  Betty leaned on the wheel, turned south on screaming tires. There were thuds as some of the men were thrown against the other side of the truck. Betty increased the truck's speed, wind whistling against the windows.

  "The other truck didn't make it," Travis said, putting his gun in his lap.

  "They'll be after us," Betty said. "They'll come after us in passenger cars. We've got to turn off this road."

  Travis opened the window to the rear of the truck.

  "How's everybody back there?" he asked.

  "McNulty's got a bad arm," Bill Skelley said, "Otherwise nobody got hit.

  "Who we we got back there?" Travis pushed himself up to get a look through the window but it was too dark to see.

  "The two kids, Bobby Covington and Dick Wetzel," Bill said. "Then there's Marvin Peters and Gus Powers. Kleiburne and Stone are just under the window by you. Dr. Leaf is working on McNulty's arm. And Margano. Almost forgot about him. He's sitting here next to me."

  "Got any cushions up there?" Travis recognized the shape and voice of Dr. Leaf near the tail gate. "Pretty bumpy for McNulty back here."

  Travis gave him the leather cushion under the front seat, passing it through the window.

  "Don't you think we ought to take a side road, Travis?" Bill suggested. "They'll be after us and they'll surely catch us in this thing if we stay on this road."

  "We were just talking about that, Bill."

  "I don't think we've gone past a white church yet. There's a gravel road on the left there. Better turn down it. You go about a mile to another gravel road parallel to this one that goes clear down to Fostoria. Used to take it to get away from traffic."

  "We'll take it. In the meantime keep your eyes open for pursuit." Travis turned back to the front and closed the window. "Want me to drive?"

  "Don't think we should stop now, do you?" Betty said. "If I know Dr. Garner, she's right behind us."

  There was no reason to change; Betty handled the truck like a veteran. Her gas pedal was clear to the floor, the tires making a steady whine on the pavement as the truck hit the seventy mark. She was tense, bent over the wheel, her hands taut, her knuckles white. Even in the dim light from the dashboard Travis caught the light in her bright blonde hair. The profile was almost angelic. The nose was just a trifle turned up, the chin cute, the lips full. Quite a contrast to the other haploids he had seen, except perhaps Rosa-lee Turner. Perhaps that is why Dr. Garner picked her out of the "1929 vintage" as she had said.

  There came a sharp rapping at the window. Travis looked up. Bill's face was there. He opened the window.

  "Car coming up fast," Bill said. "We still have a half mile to go to the turn south."

  "There's nobody else on the roads," Betty said. "They must have seen us turn off."

  "It's either fight as we go or try to turn off after a curve," Bill said. "If we go beyond the next road there's a sharp curve and a lane beyo
nd it. If we could get that far we could turn off there and hope they go past."

  "Let's give it a try, Bill," Travis said. "Give it everything it's got, Betty." He looked out the rear window, could see headlights a mile down the road. Occasionally they became lost in the dust churned up by the truck's speed down the road. When they appeared again they were always closer.

  "We just went by the road," Bill yelled. "Now there's a curve and right at the end of it is a lane on the right. Turn in there."

  Betty eased up on the gas on the curve, put on the brakes near the end of it, swung the truck to the right down a tree-sheltered lane, bumped down it to a clearing a hundred feet from the main road. She turned out the truck lights, turned off the motor.

  Instantly the men jumped out of the truck, gathered at the rear of it. In a few moments a car whizzed around the curve, its headlights blinking through the trees. The group dropped to the ground. The car raced by the opening at the end of the lane and the engine throbbed powerfully as the driver built up speed.

  "Back in!" Travis yelled. Everyone jumped back in the truck. At Betty's suggestion Travis took the wheel, turned the truck around, headed for the road. They were almost there when another car swung around the curve at break-neck speed and swept by them. Travis lost no time, gunned the engine and, the tires spitting gravel behind them, they climbed out on the smoother road, headed in the direction from which they had come.

  "Second car's turning around," Bill yelled. "Step on it!"

  Travis swung the truck around the curve, built up speed on the straight section, slowed down for the turn south, then gave it the gas again. It wasn't enough. In the rearview mirror and in the mirror at the side of the truck he could see the twin headlights of a car gaining on them.

  When it was within fifty feet of them the first shots were fired by their pursuers. They went wide of their marks. Now the boys in the rear of the truck started to fire their only gun. Betty opened the window and handed her automatic and Travis's back to them. The shooting began in earnest, then. The window was pierced by a bullet that traveled through the windshield, too. Suddenly the lights of the car behind them veered crazily and a joyous shout went up from the men in the rear of the truck. The headlights disappeared.

  Then Bill was at the window again. "None of us hurt," he said. "They couldn't hit the broadside of a barn, thank God. Didn't I see long antenna masts on both those cars. Betty?"

  "Yes, Bill," Betty answered. "Dr. Garner thought of everything. They'll be broadcasting our position to the other cars they have."

  "And the other car will be on our necks in a minute," Travis said.

  "There are lots .of places to turn off," Bill said, glancing back to see if any cars were coming. Then he continued. "I suggest we turn off one of these side roads and find a lane and hole up there for a while. It's not too much farther to Ernie Somers' place, but we might not be so lucky with a scrape with another car. Why don't you look for another side road, Travis?"

  "O.K." Travis slowed the truck slightly, picked up an entranceway down the road, turned into it. They traveled several blocks, then turned on another road, zigzagging their way deeper into the countryside until they took a final turn that led into a deeply wooded area where branches and bushes scratched the side of the truck. They continued down this to a fork where both road branches were practically impassable, then stopped.

  The silence was deafening. With the truck lights out, the woods looked unreal under the moonless sky. There was just enough light to show the trees as black, slender pillars holding up a star-strewn sky.

  "It's all right to get out," Travis said to those in the rear, "but don't go more than a few yards from the truck. And keep those guns handy."

  Betty and Travis joined the group stretching beside the truck. They agreed their pursuers were probably racing up and down all the roads, possibly even the side roads and that it would be best to take a chance on at least fifteen minutes where they were, hoping the haploids meanwhile would start scouting other roads and other areas.

  "Of course the sooner we get on the air the better it will be," Dr. Leaf said, "but actually we do have some time to spare."

  "How do you mean that?" Travis asked, putting his arm around Betty who put her head on his shoulder.

  "Well, I figure the radiations take about thirty-six hours to do their worst. You remember the emanations started in Union City about, 10 a.m. Thursday. Around suppertime Friday it began to affect the men. By 10 p.m. Friday many of them had died or were dying. By midnight it was almost complete."

  "The teletype bulletin we saw in the Star telegraph room said that Chicago emanations didn't start until Friday morning,"Travis commented. "You mean then they have a margin of safety?"

  "Yes, judging as I say by what happened in Union City it ought to give them until around 6 p.m. tonight, Saturday, before anything really serious happens."

  As they talked they could see their breath in the dim light. It was chilly and Travis felt Betty shiver. He had no coat to offer her.

  "We would have seen it on the- bulletin if any other city was threatened earlier, wouldn't we, Travis?" Dr. Leaf asked. "What about that, Betty? You were in the communications room at the sanitarium."

  "Chicago was the first city after Union City," she said. "But all the large cities are getting it now."

  She was shivering badly, so Travis took Betty back to the cab of the truck where it was warmer. He sat with her. She cuddled up to him in the circle of his arm, her head on his shoulder.

  "What are you thinking about?" she asked softly.

  "How beautiful you are."

  "You didn't have to say that."

  "I know it. But it so happens you're the girl I am in love with."

  "The haploid, you mean," she said ruefully. "What's the difference? You and I are going to be married."

  "You want children, don't you?" She tried to make it sound casual.

  "Sure. Don't you?"

  She looked at him in surprise. "But certainly you know—"

  "Yeah, I know. Look, I want you to forget that phase of it There are a lot of women who can't have children and they're not haploids. Supposing we got married and one of us turned out to be sterile?"

  "You mean adopt some?"

  "That's what I mean. You'd make a wonderful mother, Betty."

  A tear fell on his hand. "Here." He gave her his handkerchief. "It's been through a lot, but you're going to need it."

  She blew her nose. "I don't know why I love you. No other haploid I know loves a man. But I think I loved you from the moment I saw you in Union City Hospital as I was on my way to put Dr. Tisdial out of his misery."

  "Dr. Garner mentioned Dr. Tisdial as her husband. She said she had a falling out with him, that he came back after many years and was disgusted with what she was doing. She said she locked him up in the sanitarium."

  "That's only partly right," Betty said. "My mother—I've always referred to Dr. Garner as my mother and Dr. Tisdial as my father, since they reared me. My mother has had, well, she had lapses of memory. She hasn't been herself. Maybe you're right. Maybe the word for it is insanity."

  "She told me about her brother."

  Betty nodded. "That must have twisted her mind something terrible. We've all heard it time and again. She tells it well. The girls have all been impressed and the story helps them see things just the way she wants them to."

  Travis took a cigarette Betty offered him."Why do you say she isn't right in what she says about Dr. Tisdial?"

  Betty sighed, leaned back against him. "She fancies he left her back around 1920, when she started producing the haploids. That was merely the time she began calling herself by her maiden name again. Actually, he never left her. He was at her side all the time. He was her husband. He loved her very much. Oh, they'd have spells of happiness, then they'd quarrel violently. Father and I used to have long talks and he'd always say he hoped he'd get her to change her mind. We were very close, Father and I.

  "In the end
I think even he considered her not quite right mentally. But he loved her too much to have her committed. Besides, the babies she was producing had to have homes. Her whole happiness was tied up in the work with the haploids. Again and again he tried to steer her in other directions, but she wouldn't yield. Toward the end she treated him shabbily." Betty blew her nose again, dabbed at her eyes.

  "When she invented the radiation machine Dr. Tisdial decided to act. He told her if she didn't destroy it and drop the idea he was going to the police. She then had him locked up in the sanitarium while she manufactured the sets in Union City. A lot of the haploids worked there, lived upstairs.

  "I visited him often in that room in the basement where you and the others were kept. He seemed old and sad and resigned. He often pumped me for news of the latest events. One day I noticed he had a peculiar glint in his eyes. The next thing I knew he had escaped. Mother was beside herself for fear he'd run right to the police. Many of us spent many hours searching for him, but all he did was go to the place on Winthrop Street and try to break up the machines.

  "He was too late. Too many had already been sent out to places all over the country." Tears flooded her eyes then. "He went quite mad when they locked him up on the second floor. They had another man they kept in the basement. As long as he was healthy they figured nothing was wrong as they tested each machine. I've forgotten who the other man was."

  "It was Chester Grimes."

  "How did you know?"

  "The police found out through fingerprints. Go on."

  "Well, one day Dr. Tisdial smuggled one of the machines upstairs. It was actually a throw-out. It didn't work very well. He plugged it in, anyway. The next thing you know he's gone and this Grimes man is running around the basement, turning gray, howling with pain. They found the machine, turned it off, but the damage had been done. The work was almost over, anyway, so the place was dismantled that night. The police surprised several of the girls at work the next morning. They got out without being seen, but they had to set fire to the place because they had left some things in it."