Costigan's Needle

by Jerry Sohl

  “Maybe he’s in somebody’s closet.”

  “Cellar.”

  “No breeze there.”

  “Oh, hell,” Orcutt said. “We’re getting nowhere. I’m going to take a look and let Dr. Van Ness fill my teeth.” Johnny gave him a hurt look, so Orcutt added, “It’s not that I doubt your word, young fellow. It’s simply that, since you have never lived in the city—at least at a time you can distinctly remember—you are unable to interpret what you see.”

  “But I didn’t see anything,” the boy protested.

  Should I tell them? Devan thought. Before he could decide, Tooksberry was talking.

  “What’s to be gained by sticking one’s head in there if there’s nothing to see?” Tooksberry took off his glasses and polished them. “The boy’s got eyes, hasn’t he?”

  Aren’t you the smart one! Devan thought.

  “It could be Chicago during a blackout,” Sam said.

  “Another war, Sam? Oh, no!”

  “What I mean,” Tooksberry said, “is: somebody’s got to go in all the way and find out if it is Chicago or not.”

  Here we go again. Maybe I should have said something.

  Basher sighed. “Will someone please show me the way out? This is where I came in.”

  I don’t blame you, Basher.

  “Go ahead, Glenn,” Orcutt said. “Have your little joke, but Howard’s right. It’s got to be done. This time, though, there is a place to stand after you go through. That was established with the little Needle. Right, Devan? Dr. Costigan? There’s nothing to fear.”

  Except fear itself. Devan laughed to himself. About time I settled this for them.

  “Is there a question in anybody’s mind who is going into the Eye this time, then?” Tooksberry smiled as he looked around the group.

  “The kid here,” Orcutt said, “is the only one of us without fillings in his teeth. But we can’t send a boy to do a man’s work.”

  “Is that so?” Tooksberry continued to smile.

  “We promised his folks he wouldn’t go through all the way,” Holcombe said.

  Devan felt moved to say something to stop them, but the look on Tooksberry’s face stopped him. The man was having a good time if nobody else was. He grinned at them all and then, after having his fill of confounding them with his sudden good nature, he said, “Gentlemen, observe closely, please.” With a flourish he extracted both upper and lower plates. “Thimple, ithn’t it? No fillingth.”

  There was some laughter to break the tension.

  “We can’t let you go through, Howard,” Orcutt said.

  “Why not?”

  “It should be someone younger.”

  “Why? If it’th Chicago, then I will be able to tell quickly. If not, I can tell juth ath quickly and get back here.”

  “But if it isn’t Chicago... If you can’t get back...”

  Tooksberry was already at the Eye. “Thtart it up, Doctor.”

  Dr. Costigan looked hard at the man, then looked at the ring of faces, dwelling for a moment on each, a little longer on Devan’s. He finally turned and pulled the switch. Devan decided to let the man have a look. There could be no harm. Then they’d all know with certainty.

  “Are you sure you want to do this, Howard?”

  “We’ve got to know, Ed.” He put his plates on a stool near the Eye, then took off his glasses. “I really don’t need glatheth exthept when I read. I’ll be able to thee all right.” He got down on the floor on his side. “Tell Beatrith...”

  His eyes moistened. No one dared look at him.

  A moment later there was a slithering noise and he was gone, only his clothes remaining in a little pile in the Eye.

  “I hope and pray he comes back,” Basher said grimly. “I don’t want him going through what I did.”

  “He’ll be all right,” Orcutt said.

  Devan hoped he’d have sense enough not to move from the ground immediately in front of the Eye. Otherwise he’d probably be gone forever, unless someone went to look for him. It could get terribly involved.

  “Howard has certainly changed,” Holcombe observed. “He used to be so sour.”

  Orcutt was filling his pipe. “You’ve got to give Miss Treat credit for that.”

  There was no denying that. There wasn’t a happier person in the camp than the former Beatrice Treat, a more contented couple than the Tooksberrys. The bitterness, cynicism and disbelief in the man had vanished after his marriage to her and his setting up of the New Chicago Constitution which had been so quickly adopted at a plenary session of New Chicagoans.

  Conversation ebbed and flowed as the minutes went by until, after nearly fifteen minutes, they were all silent and jumpy, their eyes on the Needle’s Eye. Devan couldn’t imagine what the man was doing in the rocky wastes. He had visions of him frantically trying to find the Eye opening so he could return.

  It was a full fifteen minutes after that—an agonizing fifteen minutes to every one of them—that a head appeared in the Eye. Devan was glad and breathed a sigh of relief because he had been feeling it was about time for him to stick his head into the Eye and direct the man back to it.

  Tooksberry’s head had a toothless grin.

  “Greetingth,” he said. Then he was out and pulling on his clothes.

  “Is it Chicago?”

  “What did you see?”

  “Come on, Howard, don’t keep us in suspense.”

  But Tooksberry wouldn’t be hurried, wouldn’t say a word until he was fully dressed, his teeth in and his glasses adjusted. Then he eyed them all in turn, enjoying himself. Devan knew what he was going to say but he didn’t like the way he was playing it.

  But it was Tooksberry’s show. Nobody could deny that. And nobody was telling him anything.

  “It was Chicago,” he said, finally.

  Chicago!

  Devan sat on his stool in shock, his mouth slack.

  The others crowded around the man, eager for details.

  Impossible! Devan had been through the Eye and had seen for himself the endless waste of the rocky plain. Why would the man lie? But was he lying? The men were still asking questions and Tooksberry was still standing there smiling at them all and not saying anything.

  When they had quieted, he said, “It was Chicago. Just as I said. When I first got through the Eye, I found it exactly as Johnny here described it. Damp and dark. Nothing to see. I lay there for a long time trying to figure out where I was, fingering the surface beneath me. I finally concluded it was hard-packed clay from rain that had washed it in where I was, for I could dig down through to an unyielding surface below it.

  “I sat up, then stood up. I could feel a breeze, all right. Then my eyes got more accustomed to where I was and I could make out dimly a less dark area in front of me. I wanted to get out of there because I could hear little noises around me and once in a while one of the rats would run over my bare feet. I walked five paces forward and then could see a doorway on my right. I made a right turn and took seven and a half steps to the center of the doorway and then drew my first easy breath because I knew I could get back to the Eye any time I wanted to. All I had to do was locate the doorway.

  “On the other side of the doorway it was a little brighter. There were windows without glass in the walls about eye level and I knew it must be in the bottom of a deserted building because I could see the stars through one of the windows and the walls of nearby buildings through the others. At the other end of the basement room there were stairs and I hurried over to these, stepping high over debris and wading through papers and junk. I went up the creaky steps and out into a vacant backyard area and from there around the passageway between two buildings to the street in front of the old place I’d just come out of. I didn’t see anyone and was sure no one saw me. If they had, they’d have yelled for a cop, I’m sure.

  “Out in front it was much different. Cars whizzed by. I had forgotten they went so fast. And I had forgotten what ten years of progress could do, too. And then, fro
m my place in the shadows, I saw people walking by. I could see their faces in the light of the lamps as they went by. Worried and hungry and tense. Didn’t look like us at all. Pale, too. They walked too fast, it seemed to me.

  “Then I saw some papers blowing around in the street and I risked showing myself for a moment by reaching out from the passageway and picking up half a page of the Chicago Tribune. It was the classified ad section. There was a street light near by, so I leaned out a little bit and read a few of the ads. Same old things. Dishwashers are in great demand. They want people to sell specialties. Just as if it were yesterday, but the date on the newspaper was this morning’s.

  “I knew I should be getting back, but before I did I ran out to the sidewalk and chanced a look north to the Loop. There was a faint glow of red in the sky, the neon lights. It was Chicago, all right. Cars began slowing down, there were a few cries from people and I knew I had been sighted, so I ran back into the passageway. I would have been here sooner if it hadn’t been for the gang of kids coming at me from the back way. I knew there were people behind me as well. I was in a spot.”

  Tooksberry looked down, knew he had his audience hanging on his every word, looked up and smiled. “I don’t have to tell you I made it. I just slid through one of the basement windows. I found the doorway and ducked back here.”

  Devan could not believe what he had heard, saw that Dr. Costigan was having the same difficulty, raised his eyebrows when their eyes met.

  Everyone had been silent for a long time. Then Orcutt got off his stool. “It took a lot of guts to do what you did, Howard. We all appreciate it. Did you tell everything?”

  “Everything I remember.”

  “Did you see what kind of cars they were?” Basher asked. “You mentioned you’d never seen any like them. Can’t you describe them?”

  “Well, they didn’t make the usual car noises. And they seemed a little more low slung and more streamlined. But I never could tell the makes of cars.”

  “How about styles?” Orcutt asked. “Have they changed?”

  “No, I don’t think they have, but to be frank, Ed, I can’t remember what they were like before, can you?”

  Orcutt scratched his head. “The hem line’s been up and down so much it’s hard to remember where it was at the time of transition.”

  “Well,” Sam Otto said, “all we have to do now is turn on the Needle and let everybody go through.”

  “It has all been arranged,” Orcutt said, looking carefully at Tooksberry. “The council has already decided what should happen in this eventuality. Tomorrow at ten o’clock in the morning there will be a mass meeting of all the residents of New Chicago at this site. At that time we will set up the system of drawing numbers for who is to be first, second and so on, with a man drawing a number for his whole family so they can all crawl through together.”

  “I need a drink,” Dr. Costigan said. “It so happens I have just enough glasses.”

  “Does it so happen you have anything to put in them?” Sam Otto asked.

  “It is time for a drink, all right,” Basher said. “We’ve finally done it. We can finally go back.”

  “How are you going to let the people know, Ed?” Holcombe asked.

  “That’s up to Johnson, Jim. He and his men can call on everyone and explain. They have lists and the route to do it in the shortest time. Everything’s been thought out, you see. We’ve discussed it fully with him. He’ll do it beginning early in the morning.”

  The wine was quietly poured and for a while no one had anything to say, which Devan thought odd, considering the occasion. They should have been happy and gay, but he presumed the gravity of the situation made them thoughtful. After all, any great change gives one pause.

  “It’s going to be different,” Otto said soberly, “this getting back to Chicago. I wonder if my friends have missed me.”

  “It will seem strange,” Holcombe said.

  “We’ve enjoyed it here, you know?” Tooksberry said. “I don’t know why, but I’ve really found happiness, I think.”

  “I’m going to miss good old New Chicago,” Basher said.

  Orcutt raised his glass high. “Here’s to New Chicago.” Glasses clinked and their contents were drained.

  “Is it all right for me to tell my folks about this?” Johnny asked. “They’ll want to know.”

  “You can tell them,” Orcutt said.

  The boy hurried out. He was later followed by the others until only Dr. Costigan, Orcutt, Devan and Tooksberry were left.

  Finally, Tooksberry yawned, stood up and stretched. “I’ve got to go,” he said. “Big day tomorrow, you know.”

  “So long, Howard,” Orcutt said. “See you bright and early. I’ll be going soon.”

  “Mind if I walk with you?” Devan said, leaving Orcutt and the doctor. Tooksberry shook his head and together they walked out into the now cool night. They could faintly hear the waves lapping against the shore as they walked away from the beach and the sandy knoll.

  After they had gone part of the way to the enclosure in silence, Devan said, “I’ve got something to tell you, Howard.”

  “What is it?” Tooksberry looked at him obliquely as they went down the path.

  “I went through the Eye last night.”

  “Really?” He did not falter in his steps.

  “I saw only a rocky plain, a place where outcropping rock was visible for as far as the eye could see. And grass grew out of little crannies and that’s the only living thing I saw.”

  “Depressing sight, the way you describe it.”

  “Didn’t you see the same thing, then?”

  “I won’t tell anyone you went through the Eye, Dev.”

  “Why did you tell them it’s Chicago?”

  Tooksberry stopped and turned to him, the bright moon a bright white dot in either eye. He smiled. “Why didn’t you tell them it’s not, Devan?”

  “You did see the same thing as I, then?”

  “It’s Chicago, all right,” Tooksberry said. “It has got to be Chicago. You have to believe that, Dev.”

  19

  One of Johnson’s men awakened Devan early with an urgent pounding on the open front door to tell them of the ten o’clock gathering at the Needle site.

  “Begging your pardon, Mr. Traylor,” he said when Devan approached the front door in his pajamas. Betty, whom he had left asleep, was right behind him. “We have to call on every house. You understand.”

  “Of course.”

  “You’ve told Mrs. Traylor?”

  “Not yet.” When the policeman gave no evidence he was departing at once, Devan added, “But I will.”

  The man offered his thanks and was gone.

  When Devan had come home the night before, he had been determined to tell her the truth. But the more he thought it over, wondering what Tooksberry meant and why he acted so mysteriously, he became convinced he ought to play along with the man. If the camp knew there was no way back to Chicago, it would be thrown into an uproar. He knew that. But wouldn’t it be worse to get all the people down there expecting to go back to Chicago and then to have to tell them that they could never go back?

  He hoped Tooksberry knew what he was doing. He realized it was a dangerous thing, this pretending to believe in Chicago, but some compunction made him respect Tooksberry’s request. When he explained things to Betty, he did not tell her there was no way back.

  Betty’s face was white nonetheless as she prepared breakfast.

  Devan presumed his own face lacked color. He knew one thing: he could not think straight because his mind was so obsessed with thoughts of the Needle, the people, Chicago, Tooksberry and whether or not he should have told Betty the truth. The result was that his breakfast lay like a heavy ball in his stomach.

  When he was ready to go down to the Needle, he said as casually as he could, “I’ve got to go now. You’ll be down?”

  She came with him to the door. Her eyes were tear-rimmed. “I’ll be there with th
e children.”

  He kissed her lightly. She clung to him.

  “Devan.”

  “Yes?”

  “Devan.” She would not let him go. “Devan”—and the words came now quickly—“we’ve been so happy together.”

  The muscle that was his heart had a spasm of gladness that must have sent some oxygen-rich blood to his head because he felt intoxicated, dizzy for a moment.

  “I know,” he managed to say.

  “And Devan...” Her arms were still around him, her lips at his ear. “Devan, let’s not stop being happy. Let’s—let’s not go back. Don’t you see I don’t want to go back? Do you?”

  He held her tightly, joyously.

  “I don’t want to go back, Betty.” It was amazing how simple it was to say a truth he had denied so long. “I guess I’ve never really wanted to go back.”

  She held him at arm’s length and looked at him, her face radiant. “Even if we’re the only two-four: you and I and the children.”

  “We’ll always be together,” he said. “In New Chicago.”

  The morning was cool and the sun was bright. The lake was complementary to the sky and sun flashes danced on the waves which moved on the shore like armies.

  There would have been swimmers if it had not been that they had something else to do this morning. And children, who usually danced and played on the long stretch of beach, were absent. Everyone was either at the building on the dune or was making preparations to go there.

  Several long tables had been placed together in front of the door to the Needle building and people came singly, in pairs and in whole families, bringing nothing with them because they knew they would not take anything along on the trip through the Eye.

  Orcutt was there stirring the big glass bowl of numbers with a long, wooden cooking spoon and there was a crowd watching. Devan was helping Johnson with the long list of people—there were exactly five hundred and thirty-one, including the newest one born in the hospital early that morning. They were going to have to account for every one; it would not be fair to leave anyone uninformed. Johnson said his men had been to every house in the settlement, that there were only a few absentees: men off hunting somewhere, a couple others who had been gone a month on a tour of exploration.