Pulp Fiction | The Howling Teenagers Affair (February 1966)
Page 9
"We had better move on," Illya said at last.
Solo helped Joe Hooker to his feet.
They staggered off in the blazing sun toward the distant road. Illya was not surprised to find his Jeep gone.
After a while, they lost track of everything-everything but the endless miles and the searing sun. They staggered on, falling, getting up to stagger again. There was no water, no food. They had not eaten for a day. As far as their burning eyes could see there was nothing but emptiness.
"How long can we last, Dads?" Joe Hooker said.
"We'll last," Solo said.
"Don't put me on, Dad. I know. There isn't a living cat within two hundred miles, that hissing nut told me," Hooker said. "We'll never make two hundred miles."
"We will make it," Illya said.
"Leave me, Dads. I can't help no more. When you get back you can give me a medal. I always wanted a medal. One thing, like who've I been working for? I mean, who's the leader, Dads?"
"U.N.C.L.E.," Solo said. "But you've really worked for the whole world."
"You had better leave me, too," Mahyana said. "I can help Joe, and I slow you down. Get out and get help. We'll try to stay alive."
Illya and Solo looked at each other. They knew that Hooker and Mahyana were right. Only Solo and Illya, trained and uninjured, could hope to make it out of this endless desert. And then the hope was slim. They had done their work, but was this the end?
"It will be very cold soon," Illya said. "Lie close together for the warmth. Move slowly, but keep moving as long as you can."
"Crazy," Hooker said, smiling weakly.
Mahyana suddenly stared upward at the glaring blue of the sky. Solo whirled. The helicopter seemed to slide sideways in the sky. They all stood and watched with their mouths open as the helicopter touched gently down not fifty yards away. A man stepped out and walked toward them.
Alexander Waverly said, "I see you accomplished your mission. I suggest we all leave this area without delay. I think the Australian people can clean up the miserable remains."
"Yes, sir," Solo said. "But how—"
Waverly tapped at his empty pipe. "I began to wonder about that Max Booth tailoring establishment. It seemed too simple. When I arrived in Sydney, Mr. Kuryakin's message was there. It was not too hard to identify Marcus Fitzhugh from the description."
"And you got my message about where we were?" Illya said.
"No, I'm afraid the man you entrusted that to was one of their men. However, the Australians managed to locate this particular piece of Fitzhugh's property. He owned it in his own name. THRUSH can sometimes be so careless, almost arrogant. Now, shall we return to Sydney? Miss Mahyana is needed in Africa, I believe."
The owl-eyed U.N.C.L.E. leader turned and walked calmly back to the helicopter. Solo helped Joe Hooker. The bearded boy was staring after Waverly.
"Like, crazy," Joe Hooker said. The bearded youth was in bad shape, but he could still manage a wan smile.
Looking at him, Illya nodded.
The forces of evil, all over the world, could do their damndest, he was thinking. But for every weakling they seduced, every poor unfortunate they trapped, the essential decency in mankind was bigger, stronger than all of them. In the end, it would have to destroy them.
It was a good thought. It would help to make bearable the memory of the unspeakable hours that had passed.
After a while, the taut nightmare memories left Hooker and he could sleep.
The helicopter took off, circling once over the gaping hole in the vast wasteland that still steamed fingers of gas into the sky. Already, helicopters were below as men in gas masks approached the stronghold and factory of Marcus Fitzhugh.
"THRUSH will need a new member of council, it seems," Waverly said. "Unfortunately, we need a new chief enforcement agent for Section-II, Africa. Would that appeal to you, Miss Mahyana?"
"Yes, sir, and thank you," the lithe brown girl said.
"We will have to watch for the remains of the teen corps," Illya said, his Russian mind still on the problem. "They will be very sick without their PowerTen."
"The hospitals have been alerted, and the police," Waverly said grimly.
"What about Maxine Trent?" Solo asked.
"Her body was found in the river," Waverly said, looking for his tobacco in his old tweed suit. "But I have my doubts it was really her, Mr.—uh—Solo."
Solo smiled. He had his doubts that Maxine would be ended so easily. He thought he would probably meet her again. Strangely, the thought did not displease him, deadly though she certainly was. A little danger was always interesting. And Maxine Trent was born for danger.
"You know, The Beavers are going to seem mighty square after you swingers," Joe Hooker said. "I mean, crazy."
The helicopter whirled off toward the jet that waited for them at the bush airport.
THE END
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posted 10.26.2000, transcribed by ?