by Jerry Sohl
“In more ways than one, I’d say, Walter.”
“I’m visualizing polystyrene, vinyl resinoids, nylon, rayon, synthetic rubber. It will be wonderful working it all out.”
In Renthaler’s eyes Devan saw the same look he had seen in Dr. Van Ness’s eyes. The eagerness, the curiosity, the interest and the patience. Yes, as long as there were men like that around there would eventually be a Needle. Devan felt sure of that.
Orcutt came out with a lighted stick and both men lit their pipes.
“I’ll help you all I can,” Devan said. “You let me know what you need. I’m going to work on glass with Glenn Basher next. Maybe you’d like to help me with that. If you would, it would hurry up your project all the more.”
“We’re making a lot of progress, gentlemen,” Orcutt said, putting his hands behind his head. “Paper mill’s coming along.”
“I wondered how that was doing,” Renthaler said. “Are you still going to ask everybody to write down all the poems he knows?”
Orcutt nodded absently, looking up into the night sky. “Yes, everything anybody has memorized. Plots, too. The great stories. We want them written down somewhere. Just in case we never get back. We will have something to preserve.”
“You’re joking,” Renthaler said. “We’ll get back. We have the man who invented the Needle, haven’t we? He ought to get us back.”
“We’ll see,” Orcutt said. “Let’s hope he can do it.”
14
Though Eric Sudduth and his followers kept pretty much to themselves in their caves a good twenty miles south of New Chicago, they were often the subject of conjecture and conversation. After all, the area served as a source of limestone for the smelting works and other processes and as the home of the only neighbors the New Chicagoans were apparently ever to have.
When parties from New Chicago went out to hunt deer, they invariably skirted the Sudduthite area, but always made certain they got close enough to see if any changes had been made. Their reports were relayed to Orcutt; they usually consisted of assurances that the Sudduthites had not changed their minds about clothes, that they had fires, that they had made weapons to kill wild animals and protect themselves from an occasional wolf.
The reports brought back by the hunters were neither as clear nor as complete as the ones delivered in person by the couples who returned from the outlander camp requesting sanctuary (Sudduth had ordered death for deserters) and permanent residence in New Chicago—or residence until the new Needle was developed and they could return home. All were surprised that another Needle was in prospect.
By mid-June, three couples had come back and the reason was quite simple: the women had become pregnant, did not like the idea of parturition in such primeval surroundings. At least that was the obvious reason; it may be that they had some idea of what a winter could be like without clothes in a drafty cave, or they may have heard that two young men, both of whom had been interns at the time of the displacement, were doing a good job taking care of the medical and surgical needs of New Chicago. The latter was doubtful, however, because Sudduth professed no interest in what went on up north and his cohorts, with discretion, followed his example.
The six were quickly and effortlessly absorbed into New Chicago and were given jobs in line with their past experience, ability and desires. In return, three small brick cottages were built for them inside the big enclosure and their previous identity with the other group was quickly forgotten.
From what they told of Sudduth and his assistant director, Orvid Blaine, the New Chicagoans began to get a picture of what was going on in the south. As was believed, Sudduth and Blaine were the leaders of the group, directed all the activities and established all the policies. Devan was sorry to hear that the men held the people in virtual enslavement, demanding the best of the food and not lifting a finger to do anything themselves.
They said that Sudduth had issued an order which stated that, since he was the spiritual head of the group, he could have any woman in the clan he wanted. He was so convincing in his arguments with those who opposed the directive, the story went on, that he almost swayed the husbands and wives to his desires. But the first woman he wanted was Blaine’s and, in the ensuing struggle which ended with Sudduth giving in to Blaine, the plan fell through and the man knew better than to try to make stick for someone else what he couldn’t make stick for his assistant.
Devan had heard Orcutt voice concern over the fact that the emigrants meant Sudduth’s numbers were down to twenty-four, beside himself and Blaine, and that Sudduth might try to take back those who had decided to move to New Chicago.
“He’s sure to try something,” Orcutt said. “He won’t just sit by and let his people drift up here.”
It followed, then, that when Eric Sudduth and his assistant presented themselves at the New Chicago gate in mid-summer, it did not come too much as a surprise.
“Anybody home?” They could hear Sudduth’s thunderous roar and Blaine in the background throughout the whole camp. There was no denying it, Eric Sudduth was an impressive man, the kind of man with whom there could be no middle ground. Either you liked him and did whatever he said and believed his every word and considered him a great man, or you hated him right from the start because you could see how he could use you and your friends for himself. Devan disliked him, was certain Orcutt and others felt the same way.
When several persons had run and told Orcutt that Sudduth was at the gate, though he didn’t need to be told because there was nothing wrong with his ears, Orcutt sighed and went there, taking Devan and Sam Otto with him, mostly because he met them on the way. He stopped for a moment to see Tooksberry en route.
When the big gate swung open, the trio was surprised to find Sudduth and Blaine standing there naked, for they had momentarily forgotten the precept embraced by the Sudduthites. Their bodies were remarkably white and pasty in contrast to the bronzed skin of the New Chicagoans. The reason for this, Devan decided, was that these two had done no work, had been waited on hand and foot, had lived too much in caves. He wondered what their constituents looked like and guessed they were worked pretty hard satisfying their leaders, judging by the pot belly Sudduth had. Devan hadn’t remembered that it was that big. Blaine either had not eaten so much or had not advanced to the age where, if he did, it would show after a while.
Seeing the three New Chicagoans in leather jackets and knee-length trousers and freshly shaved, the two naked men, who had chest-length white beards, seemed ill at ease and much less sure of themselves than they had sounded before the gate was opened. They stood now, looking a little ridiculous, Devan thought, twenty feet from the gate where the brush and trees began.
Eric Sudduth drew his shoulders back and achieved something of a look of dignity. He cleared his throat. “You have six of my people here,” he said. “Mr. Blaine and I have come to take them back with us.”
Orcutt smiled and when he did Devan was filled with a confidence in the man, a confidence he had not had when Orcutt had been merely the president of Inland Electronics. Edmund Orcutt had proved he could be depended upon to organize things and get them done. Devan was satisfied to think his smile meant he had the situation well in hand.
“Well, come on in,” Orcutt said, advancing to them and extending his hand to Sudduth. “Glad to have you pay us a visit.”
“Yeah,” Sam said, following Orcutt’s lead. “Sure glad you fellows could come up. How’ve you been, Blaine?” Sam shook hands heartily, though Blaine’s hand was limp and his face expressionless.
Sudduth brushed off the familiarity. “You will send them out at once, please. We must be back by nightfall. Never can tell what you’ll find in the woods.”
“We’ve found nothing very ferocious,” Orcutt said. “Except other human beings.”
“Meaning what, mister?”
“Now, now, Orvid,” Sudduth said. “Mr. Orcutt didn’t mean anything by that, I’m sure.”
“Where’s Sister Abigail?” Devan
asked. “Isn’t she with you?”
“Almighty God has taken her, young man.” Sudduth’s face was grave.
“Pneumonia,” Blaine complained.
“A wonderful woman, a gallant leader, a talented instrument of His grace, an instrument that was to help usher in the Golden Age except He had more use for her than I did.”
“Amen,” Blaine said.
“Now the deserters, please.” Sudduth stood firm, his eye imperious, hands behind his back. A crowd was collecting at the gate.
Orcutt shook his head. “They came of their own free will, Eric. I’m afraid they’ll have to leave the same way.”
“You mean you’re not going to bring them out, mister?”
“Be quiet, Orvid. I’ll handle this.”
“You have a death penalty for desertion. Why should they go to their deaths?”
“Oh, not really,” Sudduth said. “That was just to scare them into staying. We need everybody we got.”
“A wonderful way to run a group,” Sam said.
“You can come in to get them if you like,” Orcutt said. “That is, if you can talk them into going with you.”
The nude men looked at each other, Sudduth with a crafty eye, Blaine with an angry one. They consented to go into the stockade.
Once inside, with the gate closed behind them, they became less of something out of the woods and more of something out of place within the enclosure. As they walked down the street with the others, they did so self-consciously, looking first this way and then that at the windows and doorways as if daring anyone to look askance at their nudity. They were rewarded by amused stares, giggles, oblique glances and outright laughter which surely must have unnerved them though they dared give no evidence of it. If it had been for these things alone, Sudduth might never have said anything. As it was, the barking dogs and the teasing children they belonged to brought Sudduth to a stop before they had gone more than a hundred paces.
“Do you have some clothes for us?” he asked. “It seems we’re attracting considerable attention the way we are.”
“You don’t mind, do you?” Orcutt smiled. “Wouldn’t wearing something be against His will, Eric? You’ve adhered so firmly to your convictions it wouldn’t seem right somehow.”
“In this instance I’m sure it wouldn’t matter.”
“I wish we had the clothes to give you, but we don’t. It has been only recently we’ve been able to get enough skins to make a jacket and pants for each of us. Now, if you’d have waited until next week or maybe two weeks from now we could have given you something made out of cloth. We have a group on a project like that.”
Orcutt sent the children away and the dogs followed. Then he drew out his clay pipe and leather bag of tobacco, proceeded to fill it. Sudduth followed his actions with envious eyes. Devan nearly laughed in his face because he remembered how much the man enjoyed his cigars; he was further amused because he knew there were plenty of extra clothes the two might have been given.
“Where’d you get the tobacco?”
“Oh, there’s a patch of it not far from here.”
“Where?”
“That would be telling, wouldn’t it?” Orcutt lit his pipe with a match, drew long, ecstatic breaths on it. “Come along. You haven’t seen the place.”
“One moment.”
“Yes, Eric?”
“Can you—has anyone thought of making cigars from the tobacco?”
“Of course. Why do you ask?” Orcutt blew a plume of smoke into the clear summer air.
“I smoked...before.”
Orcutt studied him for a moment, then smiled. “How stupid of me. Of course you did. I should have remembered.” He looked at Sam. “Do you have an extra cigar for our visitor, Sam?”
Sam drew out two cigars, gave one to Sudduth and put the other in his mouth when Blaine shook his head. He lit both of them. Sudduth inhaled with pleasant anticipation, suddenly went into a fit of coughing and when it was over he was red-eyed.
“Not used to it. I’ll have to go easy.” He took out the cigar, examined it with satisfaction. Then in surprise he jerked his head first to Sam, then to Orcutt. “You had matches!”
“Of course,” Orcutt said. “What did you think they were?”
“Where did you get them? Who went back through the Needle?”
“Don’t be a fool,” Devan said. “We made them.”
“How?”
“Phosphorus, wax, glue and little sticks.”
“Hah!” Sudduth was triumphant. “Think I don’t know anything, eh? I had high school chemistry, see? I know phosphorus. You can’t just find it anywhere. You show me where it is.” He turned to Blaine. “I’ve got them now. They can’t get out of that.”
Blaine grinned.
“It’s all around you, this phosphorus,” Devan said.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“You makin’ a fool of him, mister?”
“No, Blaine.”
“Come on, come on,” Sudduth said smugly, his hands behind his back, his cigar in his mouth, rocking on the balls of his feet. “I’m waiting for an explanation.”
“Well, you asked for it.” Devan hurriedly reviewed the process, made sure he had it right. “You take animal bones and burn them. The ash that remains consists of nearly pure calcium phosphate. You heat this with sand and coke and the distillate is phosphorus.”
“Simple, isn’t it?” Orcutt said.
“You have to show me.” But Sudduth sounded as if he’d been shown.
“We were planning to. Come on.”
They walked along, passing the pottery shop, the glass project where Glenn Basher was busy and couldn’t come out but waved at them, the brick factory, Orcutt all the while explaining everything to the two.
“That building there,” Sudduth said. “You didn’t say anything about it and it doesn’t look like a dwelling.”
They had passed a small, brick building with no skins over the windows. A peculiar smell emanated from it, a smell familiar to Devan, but one he was sure would not be familiar to Eric Sudduth. A small spiral of smoke rose from the chimney.
“It’s the beverage department,” Orcutt said. “Dr. Costigan is in charge. Wine and alcohol division.”
“Interesting,” Blaine said simply because Sudduth had been saying it to everything.
“It definitely is not interesting,” Sudduth said vehemently. “Alcohol is the enemy of man, the despoiler of his body, the wrecker of his mind.”
“Dr. Costigan would disagree with you,” Sam Otto said. “And so would I.”
“It’s your privilege to hold that view, Eric,” Orcutt said. “But what about doctors?”
“When there are doctors.”
“We have two doctors here.”
“Two doctors here?” The big man gazed at him disbelievingly, seemed to be digesting the information, then said sharply, “You were to lead us to the six, Mr. Orcutt.”
Orcutt continued the circuitous tour showing them the paper manufacturing area, the felting unit, the match works, the spinners utilizing flax and a little cotton that had been found, and the carpentry shop.
“Hey!” Sudduth exclaimed when he saw a man at work there. “He’s got a hammer!”
“Of course,” Devan said. “I made it for him.”
“You made it?”
“We have a smelting works,” Orcutt explained. “You haven’t seen that yet. We make tools out of steel. We’re expanding every day.”
Sudduth shook his head. “If the good Lord intended us to have these things, He’d have let them come along with us.”
“He let us bring along our heads,” Orcutt said. “That’s where we kept the process of making steel until we needed it. So, using what else we have in our heads, we’re going to make a loom and turn out a suit of clothes for everyone. There’s a woman here who used to do weaving, swears she can turn out a suit a day and can’t wait to get started. There are plenty of dressmakers among the women; they can double as
tailors. We’re going to set up a chemical laboratory, too. We have a young chemist who knows something about that; he’s going to work in plastics. We’re going to try to be as modern as we were before we came here.”
“Hah!” Sudduth snorted. “You’re going to bring the wrath of God down on us all by trying to duplicate the terrible things we had in the world we left behind.”
“Amen,” Blaine said.
“We’re doing it better,” Devan said. “We’re not going to make the mistakes our fathers did. I can give you examples. First, the Indians used to put their meat between the leaves of the pawpaw tree and the white man thought it was just a ritual until he discovered why. There was something in the leaves that tenderized the meat. We know that now. A few years ago the vegetable enzyme from this tree was extracted and became popular as a meat tenderizer. Why can’t we do that here? We have the advantage of all the past, you see.
“Second, take a look at monosodium glutamate, that salt that makes all our food taste better. We used to be so stupid we threw it away when we made beet sugar. It was just a useless by-product, we thought, until we learned better. We can have that here, too. Why not? Oh, we’ve found some things different—rabbits with long tails and squirrels that are white and six-pointed spring beauties—but basically everything’s just about the same. We are ahead of the game already. We can make this place just about what we want it to be.”
“Yes, Mr. Traylor. I agree with you. We can make it either godly or ungodly. We can do what you want or we can do what ought to be done. Take your choice.”
“Amen,” Blaine said.
“Nuts,” Devan said.
“Amen,” Sam said.
When they had finished their inspection of the camp, Orcutt led them to the biggest building of the settlement, the assembly hall. It was a plain structure with brick sides and a ceiling of chinked logs covered with grass.
“What’s this place?” Sudduth asked, walking across the ground past the front benches to the table in the middle of one end of the building.
“Our courthouse, meeting place, dance hall,” Orcutt said.
