The Year When Stardust Fell

by Raymond F. Jones

  Chapter 1. _The Comet_

  The comet was the only thing in the whole sky. All the stars weresmothered by the light of its copper-yellow flame, and, although the sunhad set two hours ago, the Earth was lit as with the glow of athunderous dawn.

  In Mayfield, Ken Maddox walked slowly along Main Street, avoidingcollisions with other people whose eyes were fixed on the object in thesky. Ken had spent scores of hours observing the comet carefully, bothby naked eye and with his 12-inch reflecting telescope. Still he couldnot keep from watching it as he picked his way along the street towardthe post office.

  The comet had been approaching Earth for months, growing steadily tobigger proportions in the sky, but tonight was a very special night, andMayfield was watching with increased awe and half-dread--as werehundreds of thousands of other communities around the world.

  Tonight, the Earth entered the comet's tail, and during the comingwinter would be swept continuously by its million-mile spread.

  There was no visible change. The astronomers had cautioned that none wasto be expected. The Earth had passed through the tails of cometsbefore, although briefly, and none of the inhabitants had beenphysically aware of the event.

  This time there was a difference. As intangible as a mere suspicion, itcould yet be felt, and there was the expectancy of the unknown in theair.

  Ken prided himself on a scientific attitude, but it was hard not toshare the feelings of those around him that something momentous andmysterious was taking place this night. There would be no quick passagethis time. Earth would lie within the tail for a period of over fourmonths as they both made their way about the sun.

  Such close-lying orbits had never occurred before in the known historyof the world.

  "It's frightening, isn't it?"

  Ken was aware that he had stopped at the edge of a crowd in front ofBillings Drugstore, and beside him Maria Larsen was staring intentlyupward as she spoke.

  She was a small, blonde girl with intense blue eyes. Ken smiledconfidently and looked down at her. "No," he said. "It's a beautifulthing. It's a kind of miracle that we should be alive when it happened.No human beings have ever seen such a sight before."

  Maria shivered faintly. "I wish I could feel that way. Do you think itwill get any bigger?"

  "Yes. It will not reach its closest approach for over three months, yet.Its approach is very slow so we won't notice much change."

  "It is beautiful," Maria agreed slowly, "but, still, it's frightening.I'll be glad when it's gone."

  Ken laughed and tucked the girl's arm in his. There was something sodisturbingly serious about the Swedish girl, who was spending a year inMayfield with her parents. Her father, Dr. Larsen, was a visitingprofessor of chemistry, engaged to teach this season at the StateAgricultural College in Mayfield. Ken's own father was head of thechemistry department there.

  "Come down to the post office with me to get some stamps," Ken said."Then I'll drive you home."

  "It's closed. You can't get any stamps tonight."

  "Maybe the boys in gray haven't been too busy watching the comet tostock the stamp machine. Look out!" He pulled her back quickly as shestepped from the curb. A wheezy car moved past, its driver completelyintent on his observation of the comet.

  "Old Dad Martin's been trying to wrap that thing around a pole for 25years," Ken said unhappily. "It looks like he's going to make ittonight!"

  Along the street, bystanders whistled at the aged driver, andpedestrians yelled at one another to get out of the way. The car'sprogress broke, for a moment, the sense of ominous concern that spreadover Main Street.

  At the post office, Ken found Maria's prediction was right. The stampmachine was empty.

  "I have some at home," the girl said. "You're welcome to them."

  "I need a lot. Mother's sending out some invitations."

  "I'm sure I have enough. Papa says I'm supporting the postal departmentwith all the letters I write to everyone at home in Sweden."

  "All right, I'll take you up on it. I'll get skinned if I don't getthem. I was supposed to pick them up this afternoon and I forgot allabout it."

  "I thought I learned good English in the schools in Sweden," said Mariawistfully, "but I don't seem to understand half what you say. This'skinned'--what does that mean?"

  "Nothing you need to worry about," Ken laughed. "If you would teach meEnglish the way you learned it, Miss Rymer would give me a lot bettermarks in her class."

  "Now I think you're making fun of me," said Maria.

  "Not me. Believe me, I'm not! Hey, look what's coming down the street!That's old Granny Wicks. I thought she had died a long time ago."

  In front of the post office, an ancient white horse drew a light,ramshackle wagon to a halt. From the seat, a small, wizened, old womanlooked at the crowd on the street. She dropped the reins in front ofher. Her eyes, set deeply in her wrinkled face, were bright and sharp asa bird's, and moved with the same snapping motions.

  From both sides of the street the bystanders watched her. Granny Wickswas known to everyone in Mayfield. She was said to have been the firstwhite child born in the valley, almost a hundred years ago. At one time,her horse and wagon were familiar, everyday sights on the streets, butshe seldom came to town any more.

  Many people, like Ken, had had the vague impression that she was dead.

  She appeared lively enough now as she scrambled down from the wagon seatand moved across the sidewalk to the post office steps. She climbedthese and stood in front of the doors. Curiously, the crowd watched her.

  "Listen to me, you!" she exclaimed suddenly. Her voice was high andshrill, reminding Ken of an angry bird's. Maria looked at himwonderingly, and he shrugged his shoulders.

  "Don't ask me what she's up to. She's pulled some corkers in her time."

  Granny Wicks looked over the gathering crowd. Then she pointed a bonyarm at the glowing comet. "You know what it means," she exclaimedshrilly. "You feel it in your bones, and your hearts quiver with fear.There's death in the sky, and an omen to all the inhabitants of theEarth that destruction awaits men."

  She stopped and glared. The laughter that had first greeted her gaveway to uneasiness as people glanced at their neighbors, then hastily atthe comet, and back to Granny Wicks. Some began moving away indiscomfort.

  "You're scared to listen, eh?" Granny shrilled at them. "You're afraidto know what's in store! Turn your backs then! Close your ears! Youcan't change the signs in the heavens!"

  A movement in the crowd caught Ken's eye. He saw the stout figure ofSheriff Johnson moving toward the steps. The law officer stepped out infront and approached Granny Wicks.

  "Come on now, Granny," said Sheriff Johnson. "You wouldn't want to scarefolks out of a good night's sleep, would you?"

  "You let me alone, Sam Johnson! I'm saying what I have to say, andnobody's going to stop me. Listen to me, all of you! There's death inMayfield in the winter that's coming, and spring won't see one man inten left alive. Remember what I say. The stars have sent theirmessenger...."

  "Okay, Granny, let's go," said the Sheriff. "You've said your piece andscared the daylights out of everybody. You'd better be getting on out toyour place before it gets dark. The comet won't light things up allnight. How's your supply of wood and coal for the winter, Granny? Theboys been getting it in for you?"

  "I got plenty, Sam Johnson. More'n I'll need for this winter. Comespring, I won't be around to be needing anything else from anybody.Neither will you!"

  The Sheriff watched as the old woman climbed to her wagon seat again.Those standing nearby helped her gently. She took the reins and snappedthem at the weary horse.

  "Take care of yourself, Granny!" someone called.

  Sheriff Johnson stood silently on the steps until the wagon passed outof sight around the corner of the block. Then he moved slowly by Ken andMaria. He smiled grimly at Ken.

  "It's bad enough to have that thing hanging up there in the sky withoutthat kind of talk." He glanced up for a moment. "It gives you thewi
llies. Sometimes I wonder, myself, if Granny isn't half-right."

  There was a stillness in the street as the people slowly dispersed aheadof the Sheriff. Voices were low, and the banter was gone. The yellowlight from the sky cast weird, bobbing shadows on the pavement andagainst the buildings.

  "Shall we go?" Maria asked. "This is giving me--what do you say?--thecreeps."

  "It's crazy!" Ken exclaimed with a burst of feeling. "It shows whatignorance of something new and strange can do. One feebleminded, oldwoman can infect a whole crowd with her crazy superstitions, justbecause they don't know any more about this thing than she does!"

  "It's more than that," said Maria quietly. "It's the feeling that peoplehave always had about the world they find themselves in. It doesn'tmatter how much you know about the ocean and the winds and the tides,there is always a feeling of wonder and fear when you stand on the shoreand watch enormous waves pounding the rocks.

  "Even if you know what makes the thunder and the lightning, you can'twatch a great storm without feeling very small and puny."

  "Of course not," Ken said. "Astronomers feel all that when they look acouple of billion light-years into space. Physicists know it when theydiscover a new particle of matter. But _they_ don't go around mutteringabout omens and signs. You can feel the strength of natural forceswithout being scared to death.

  "Maybe that's what marks the only real difference between witches andscientists, after all! The first scientist was the guy who saw fire comedown from the sky and decided that was the answer to some of hisproblems. The witch doctor was too scared of both the problem and theanswer to believe the problem could ever have a solution. So hemanufactured delusions to make himself and others think the problemwould just quietly go away. There are a lot of witch doctors stilloperating and they're not all as easy to recognize as Granny Wicks!"

  They reached Ken's car, and he held the door open for Maria. As heclimbed in his own side he said, "How about coming over to my place andhaving a look at the comet through my telescope? You'll see somethingreally awe-inspiring then."

  "I'd love to. Right now?"

  "Sure." Ken started the car and swung away from the curb, keeping acareful eye on the road, watching for any others like Dad Martin.

  "Sometimes I think there will be a great many things I'll miss when wego back to Sweden," Maria said thoughtfully, as she settled back in theseat, enjoying the smooth, powerful ride of Ken's souped-up car.

  Ken shot a quick glance at her. He felt a sudden sense of loss, as if hehad not realized before that their acquaintance was strictly temporary."I guess a lot of people here will miss the Larsens, too," he saidquietly. "What will you miss most of all?"

  "The bigness of everything," said Maria. "The hundreds and hundreds ofmiles of open country. The schoolboys with cars to cover the distance.At home, a grown man is fortunate to have one. Papa had a very hard timeowning one."

  "Why don't you persuade him to stay here? Mayfield's a darn good placeto live."

  "I've tried already, but he says that when a man is grown he has toomany things to hold him to the place he's always known. He has promised,however, to let me come back if I want to, after I finish the universityat home."

  "That would be nice." Ken turned away, keeping his eyes intently on theroad. There was nothing else he could say.

  He drove slowly up the long grade of College Avenue. His family lived inan older house a block below the brow of College Hill. It gave apleasant view of the entire expanse of the valley in which Mayfield wassituated. The houses of the town ranged themselves in neat, orderly rowsbelow, and spread out on the other side of the business section. In thedistance, north and south, were the small farms where hay and dairystock and truck crops had been raised since pioneer times.

  "I'll miss this, too," said Maria. "It's beautiful."

  Ken wasn't listening to her, however. The car had begun to sputterpainfully as it took the curve leading off the avenue to Linwood Streetwhere Ken lived. He glanced at the heat indicator. The needle was almostat the boiling point.

  "For Pete's sake! The water must have leaked out of the radiator."

  Ken pulled the car to the curb in front of the house and got out,leaving the engine idling. He raised the hood and cautiously turned theradiator cap with his handkerchief. A cloud of steam shot out, but whenhe lifted the cap the water was not quite boiling, and there was plentyof it.

  Maria came up beside him. "Is something wrong?"

  "You've got me there. The radiator's clean. The pump isn't more than twomonths old. I checked the timing last Saturday. Something's gone sour tomake her heat up like that."

  From across the street, his neighbor, Mr. Wilkins, approached with agrin. "Looks like the same thing hit us both. Mine started boiling as Icame up the hill tonight. It's got me stumped."

  "The circulation must be clogged," said Ken. "Either that or the timinghas slipped off. That's all it could be."

  "Those were my ideas, too. Both wrong in my case. Let me know if you getany other bright ones." He moved off with a pleasant wave of his hand.

  "It will cool," said Ken to Maria. "By the time you're ready to leaveI'll be able to drive you home."

  "I wouldn't want you to damage your car. I can walk."

  "We'll see."

  He led her around the house. In the center of the backyard loomed thehigh, round dome of his amateur observatory. It was Ken's personalpride, as well as that of the members of the Mayfield High Science Club,who had helped build the shell and the mountings. The club used it everyThursday night when the seeing was good.

  Ken had ground the precision mirror alone. He had ground his first one,a 4-inch glass, when he was a Boy Scout. Three years later he hadtackled the tremendous job of producing a 12-inch one. Professor Douglasof the physics department at the college had pronounced it perfect.

  Ken opened the door and switched on the light inside the dome. "Don'tmind the mess," he said. "I've been taking photographs of the comet forthe last month."

  To Maria, who was used to the clutter of a laboratory, there was nomess. She admired the beauty of the instrument Ken and his friends hadbuilt. "Our university telescope isn't any better," she said.

  "You can't tell by the plumbing," Ken laughed. "Better take a look atthe image before you pass judgment."

  Skilfully, he swung the long tube around to the direction of the comet.With the fine controls he centered the cross hairs of the eyepiece onthe blazing object in the sky.

  "It's moving too fast to stay in range very long," he said.

  Maria stepped to the observer's position. She gasped suddenly at theimage of the fiery monster hovering in the sky. Viewing the comet alongthe axis of the tail, as the Earth lay at the edge of it, an observer'svision was like that of a miniature, flaming sun with an offcenter haloof pulsing, golden light.

  To Maria, the comet seemed like something living. Slow, almostimperceptible ripples in the glowing scarves of light made them sway asif before some mighty, cosmic wind in space.

  "It's beautiful," Maria murmured, "but it's terrible, too. No wonder theancients believed comets brought evil and death upon the Earth. I couldalmost believe it, myself!"