 CHAPTER I. THE LEGENDS CLUSTERING AROUND THE NEW PEOPLE BEGAN BEFORE THE WAR, WHILE A MAN WHO STARTED THE GROUP, OLD JAL JOHNNER WAS ALIVE, BUT THEY RECIEVE THEIR GREATEST CIRCULATION DURING THE CONFLICT. IF THE WAR IS LONG AND THE FIGHTING IS Bitter, WITH NEITHER SIDE ABLE TO ACCHIE VICTORY OR EVEN A SUBSTANTIAL ADVANTEG, SOLDIERS EVENTUALLY BEGIN TO TELL STRING STORIES OF SIGHT SEEN WHEN DEATH IS NEAR, OF MIRACULOUS DELIVERIES FROM DESTRUCTION, OF IMPOSSIBLE SHIP SEEN ABOVE THE EARTH, AND EVEN OF NON-HUMAN ALLIES FIGHTING ON THEIR SIDE. Psychologists, given to believing only what they can see, feel, hear or measure, generally have credited these stories to hallucinations resulting from long-sustained stress, or in the case of the non-human allies, to plain wishful thinking rising out of a deep feeling of insecurity. What psychologist was ever willing to believe that an angel suddenly took over the controls of a falling fighting plane, riding the ship and bringing it down to earth in a crash landing that enabled the wounded pilot to crawl away, then curing the wound the pilot had sustained? Red Dog Jimmy Thurman swore this happened to him. He attangled with an Asian fighter group escorting a hot, high-level bomber over the North Pole. This was in the early days of the war, when such bombers still slipped through their defenses occasionally. Red Dog Jimmy Thurman had got one of the fighters with a single burst from his guns, and was pushing his jet straight up at the soft belly of the bomber far overhead, when a shell, from an Asian fighter that he had not seen, knocked off half his right wing. A fragment of the exploding shell hit him in the right shoulder, mangling the flesh and the bone. Feeling like a leaf being whirled over and over in a hurricane, the plane started the long plunge downward toward the polar ice cap below. Jimmy couldn't work the seat ejection mechanism because of his broken arm. Just before the ship crashed, he realized that someone else was in the cockpit with him, fighting to take over the controls. Since Jimmy was still in the seat, this was not easy, but somehow the other one had managed, not only to take over the controls, but had been able to bring the ship down in a crash landing. The other one pulled Jimmy out of the burning wreck, then, discovering Jimmy's broken mangled shoulder, it had cured it. At least, this was the story Red Dog Jimmy Thurman had told after a helicopter had picked him up and had taken him back to his base. He was very stubborn about it, defiantly insisting that someone else had brought the plane down. The only conclusion Jimmy had been able to reach about the other one in the cockpit with him, he did not know whether it was male or female, was that it had been one of the new people. When the psychos had asked him how another human being could have gotten into a falling plane while it was still thousands of feet in the air, Jimmy had had no answer, except to point out that since the new people were apparently able to accomplish feats beyond the power of an ordinary mortal, they were probably not human. This comment had marked him as permanently unfit for flight duty. Jimmy began to grieve his heart out at this, for he had really loved flying. Then he began to wonder why the new people, presuming they existed, would save his life at the cost of his sanity. He went over the hill a year later. With Spike Larson it was different. Larson was the commander of an atomic-powered submarine operating in the Persian Gulf. He was lying doggo on the bottom waiting for a fat convoy that should be hugging the shore when three destroyers smelled him out. Larson never knew quite how they had spotted him, but he was in shallow water, and when the first depth charges went off he knew he had to head for the depths. With charges on the port side making his plates creak he headed for the channel. The scanning beam reported rocks dead ahead. Swiftly checking his charts he discovered that no such rocks existed. Cursing, Larson flung the charts across the room. Either they were wrong or the bottom here had shifted. A boom ahead told him it made no difference. His escape had been cut off by a destroyer in the channel. We'll take her up and fight it out on the surface, he told the lieutenant with him. The officer's face went white at the order, but he was a Navy man. Aye, sir, he said. I would recommend otherwise, Commander. Another voice spoke. Larson and the lieutenant froze. There was no one else in the control room. When Larson finally managed to turn his head he found he was wrong in his belief that no one else was in the control room. Telling the story later, to a naval board of inquiry, he said, She was standing right there beside me, all in shining white, the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I was two days to act, too bewildered to think. A woman on my ship. And what a woman! While I stood there like a dummy she stepped forward to the controls. With your permission, Commander, there is a new channel close in shore that does not show on the charts. The bottom here has shifted quite a lot since this area was last mapped. The destroyers will not dare follow us into the new channel, even if they know of its existence, because of the danger from rocks on one side and from sandbanks on the other. If you'll give me permission to con the ship. All I could do was nod. Larson reported to the board of inquiry. As it turned out, this was the last command I ever gave in all my life. She turned the nose of the sub seventy degrees, pulled in the scope, shut off the depth-finders and the sonar, and sent us up until we were almost breaking the surface. While she was doing all this, she also dodged two depth charges that should have got us. She scraped paint off our port bow on a set of rocks that should have snatched the guts out of us. She dodged a sandy bottom on our starboard, where we ought to have hung up like sitting ducks under the guns of the destroyers. But she took us out of that hole and into deep water. Then she turned the controls back to Lieutenant Thompson and said, Thank you, Commander. I'm sure you could handle the situation very competently from now on. The members of the board of inquiry were leaning forward in their chairs so as not to miss a word of Larson's report. When he had finished, the senior member, an admiral, asked breathlessly, And then what happened to our commander? She vanished, Larson said. The admiral collapsed like a punctured balloon. Lieutenant Thompson will back up every word I have said, Larson continued. He shook his head to indicate that he still couldn't understand it, though he had thought of little else since the day it had happened. Who do you think she was, Commander? A member of the board asked. I think she was one of the new people, Larson answered. His voice was firm, but he was still shaking his head when he walked out of the room where the board had met. They gave him shore duty. The psychos did all they could for him, but something seemed to have snapped inside his brain. Eight months later he deserted. Then there was the story of Colonel Edward Grant, USAF. Grant was the only man aboard the new Earth Satellite Station. He was the only man aboard because at that time no way had been found to build and to launch a satellite that would carry more than one passenger. In fact, no way had been found to do more than launch such a station and get it into its orbit. It could not return because it could not carry enough fuel for the return journey. A spaceship was being built which would carry additional fuel and food supplies to it, but this vessel was not yet completed when the satellite was launched. Grant, who had flown everything with wings, volunteered to ride with the station and put it in its orbit, knowing that when the power was exhausted he might be marooned in space forever. However, neither he nor anyone else had anticipated that he would be marooned. This eventuality had only occurred when the production demands of the new war forced to halt on the construction of his rescue ship. Colonel Grant became the loneliest man in the history of Earth. The stars were his companions. Only the moon kept him company. He would remain a lonely flying Dutchman of the sky until the end of the war permitted finishing the ship that would bring him relief. Or forever, whichever came first. It was inevitable that the Asians would get the idea that he was spying on them as he passed in his regular orbit far above their heads. In reality this was sheer nonsense. He was much too high to make out any military details of any importance whatsoever. Also they were taking full advantage of his broadcasts of scientific information which could be obtained by tuning into the bands he used. In an effort to remove this imagined menace from the sky above them, the Asians fired a rocket torpedo at his satellite. Colonel Grant, reporting later on what had happened, said, That torpedo must have been on its way when the little man appeared on my satellite. He told me about the rocket that was coming my way. I told him this was very interesting, but that I didn't see what the hell I could do about it. The station had no power and couldn't be moved. I didn't even have a chute, and even if I had had one I couldn't have used it. Anybody who jumped from that height would have frozen to death long before he reached enough air to sustain life. Described a little man for you? Sure, General. He looked like a miniature Moses. White beard, glittering eyes and everything else. No, General, I never saw Moses. Clothes? A loincloth, General. No, sir, I am not making light of the dignity of this court. I am telling in the words at my command what I saw happen with my own eyes. At this point the Colonel's voice became a little stiff. The General shut up. A man who had done what Grant had done might snap a General's head off and get away with it. What happened next? The miniature Moses told me he was going to land the satellite. He said that even if they missed with this torpedo they would be sure to try again, for no reason except to give the morale of their own people a big boost. Land the satellite, Colonel? The General asked again. But as I understand it, the station was without power. You understand the situation correctly, General. But that was what he said and that was what he did. In as needle-landing as I ever saw. And if you don't believe me, you can go look for yourself. The space satellite sitting in the middle of a Kansas wheat field was evidence that could not be ignored. It was solid, it was metal, it was real. Colonel Grant might have gone wacky from the stress of remaining too long in space, but the station at least had remained sane. Power must have been used to move it, but what power? Colonel Grant could not answer the question of what happened to the miniature Moses after the station had been landed. He flung up his hands. Moses went the same way he came, without me seeing him. On the basis of Grant's report, an investigation was begun. A vast mass of data was assembled, some of it dating from the time of Jowj Honour, but when no practical results were immediately forthcoming the project was shelved, at least temporarily. Its manpower was desperately needed for other purposes. Men fighting for their lives have no time to think of the future. This dusty, forgotten mass of data was exhumed by a tall lean man named Kurt Zenn, a Colonel of Intelligence, who had a reputation for daring even among that elite band of men who daily looked death in the face. Zenn was assigned to this investigation, not only because of his reputation, but because the stories of the new people had increased in number to the point where they had to be given some credence. Also, they became more fantastic in content. For instance, a bomber pilot insisted that a woman had ridden on the wing of his ship all the way to Asia, dropping from the plain in the highlands of western China. Zenn regarded this story as obvious hallucination. Much of the data about the new people belonged in this category. He morosely wondered if it was possible to tell where reality left off and hallucination began. The Colonel soon discovered that his job was not going to be as easy as he'd hoped. Aside from the stories told by the soldiers, and the Asian fighting men also had their tales to tell, only one thing was certain. If the new people existed at all, they were very elusive. Only the grave of the man who had founded the group, old Jell Jonner, was still to be found in the high sierras of California. Zenn did not go looking for this grave, but he saw photographs of it. He also studied the biographies that had been compiled on this colossal but enigmatic figure. Were the grave and the thick files the only remaining evidence that at least one human had dared to dream of a new day? Zenn did not think so. Most of all, he longed to capture one of the new people for questioning. Then, in a daring coup that was intended to strike a spearhead at the heart of America, Cusso, the top Asian fighting leader and thousands of tough Asian paratroopers floated down into the mountains between British Columbia and the United States. Cusso and his men, hiding out in the high mountain ranges, resisted all efforts to dislodge them. They became a festering thorn in the side of America, a threat that was not quite big enough to take seriously or slight enough to overlook. He was hidden so deep in the mountain caverns that he could not be bombed out, and the terrain was so rugged that his paratroopers could withstand the assault of a full army. As his men began making forays into the lower ranges, searching for food and women, the inhabitants of the area fled in terror. This was the situation when Kurt Zenn accompanied a body of troops up the last fairly good trail toward Cusso's hidden lair. Neither the troops nor Cusso really interested him. What interested him was an army nurse with the medical detachment. He suspected this nurse was one of the new people. In months of patient, painstaking work, she was the only good lead to this group that he had uncovered. He was going up a steep mountain trail with troops ahead and behind when something that sounded like a wounded lion began to cough in the sky overhead. CHAPTER II CHAPTER II Kurt Zenn heard the lion cough in the sky overhead. He knew that it would hit in about four minutes, and that it would seem to open a tunnel upward from hell, that the mountains would shake and tremble, that the air would vibrate and rattle as if a dozen thunderbolts had exploded at the same instant, and that a good number of the troops laboriously circling the incline of the ridge above would die. He knew that more of them would die in a horrible lingering death as a result of the radioactivity that would be released by the blast. Pardon me, Nedra, he said to the nurse who was just ahead of him. She had stopped to stare upward. Hit the dirt! Zenn yelled at the troops. A few had already heard the lion cough in the sky and begun to take cover, following the pattern of experienced fighters who never need an order to die for the nearest whole. He saw, as he shouted, that the number who had already begun to hit the dirt was pitifully few and he knew the reason for this. Most of these men were green conscripts on their first fighting mission, the results of digging deep into a population that had already been scoured to the bone for manpower and for everything else. Conscripts were likely to stare at the sky and die with their mouths open. What is it, the girl asked? What's wrong? Don't you hear that blooper in the sky overhead? No, that is, I heard something make a noise up there, but... mixed emotions moved across her face but fear was not among them. Instead, she seemed to be curious. But what is a blooper? From a nurse, or from any living American, such a question was incredible. Zenn stared at her in amazement. Did I say the wrong thing, asked the wrong question? You sure did, Zenn answered. Come on. But where are we going? There. He nodded toward a prospect hole, one of the many that had been dug in these mountains by miners. As soon as he had heard the blooper cough its interrupted rocket blast when it changed direction in the sky, he had instantly looked for a hiding place. This tunnel seemed to fill the bill. Is something going to happen? the nurse asked. In less than two minutes you will find out, he answered. His long legs had already started taking him toward the hole. After hesitating for an instant, the nurse hastily followed him. The prospect hole extended less than ten feet into the side of the mountain and was not timbered. This was good. It met no heavy beams would collapse around their heads when the hills began to shake. A quick examination revealed that the stone of the roof seemed to be solid. Zenn stopped within three feet of the entrance. Why don't we go farther back? the nurse asked. We're in far enough for protection from bits of flying metal but not too far to dig ourselves out if the roof should collapse. I hope, Zenn answered. Somewhere outside a man screamed in terror. The thing in the sky coughed again, closer now. Broom! Broom! Broom! The blooper struck. The sound was that of the simultaneous firing of many cannon. The walls of the prospect tunnel seemed to twist and wave. Loose stones dropped from the roof and a fine dust seemed to extrude from the walls. A boulder half as big as a small house hurtled past the entrance, snapping pines like matchsticks. A slide of loose rocks followed it. In the distance another slide could be heard growling back at the sky as it grew to avalanche proportions. The nurse's fingers tightened on Zenn's arm then relaxed. Every nerve in his body was as taught as a steel wire as he waited for her reaction. Other than the tightening and relaxing of her fingers, there was none. Her hands remained on his arm and she remained in the tunnel with him. To Kurt Zenn this was disappointing. What kind of nerves do you have? Most women would have been in my arms and would have had their noses buried in my chest. I'm sorry, Colonel, if my education in how to be afraid has been neglected. She coughed at the dust. Aren't you really afraid, Nedra? He asked. No. Then you aren't an ordinary human. The instant he had blurted out the words he was sorry he had spoken. It was possible to give away too much too soon. Then what am I? Her voice was calm. He dodged her question. Aren't you even afraid to die? When so many have died already, why should I hesitate to join them? the nurse answered. She released his arm and brushed dust from the shoulders of her uniform. She glanced up at him and it seemed that some kind of a radiation flowed from her eyes, a wave of it that sent a tingle over his entire skin surface. Outside, another smaller boulder went bouncing past the entrance to the tunnel. Fumbling in his pockets for cigarettes, Zenn found a crumpled package. He offered one to the nurse, but she thanked him and refused it. He did not insist. Cigarettes were too precious to waste on people who didn't really want them. Outside, another man began to scream. The nurse moved automatically in that direction. He caught her arm and held her back. Wait until the rocks stop rolling, Nedra. She did not protest. Looking up at him, she said, You think I'm one of the new people, don't you? Zenn coughed and swore at the cigarette, insisting that the tobacco was moist. This was a lie and both knew it. But what to say? Her question was a complete stunner. What makes you think that? He asked, desperate for words. I just think it. It's true, isn't it? As an intelligence officer, Zenn was accustomed to asking the questions, but this nurse had completely turned the tables on him. He took a deep drag on the cigarette. I don't know. Are you? He made his voice as casual as was possible. Her eyes studied him. The trace of a smile came over her face and tugged at the corners of her lips. Do you mind if I ask you a question? Go right ahead. The man had stopped screaming outside, but another boulder was going past. In the distance, the avalanche was trying to grind to a halt, but it sounded as if millions of tons of rock were on the move to a safer location. Are you one of the new people? The nurse asked. The cough was real this time. Zenn could not suppress his surprise. What on earth makes you ask a question like that? I just felt like asking it, the nurse replied. Am I wrong? Who are the new people? Why, everybody has heard of them. They're the new race that is going to provide the nucleus for new growth after all ordinary men and women have been destroyed in this war. Surprise showed in her violet eyes. Do you mean you have never heard of them? I've heard the usual rumors that are afloat, Zenn said, shrugging. But all the stories have impressed me as a pack of lies. Really, I think the enemy has started most of them to get us to relax our war effort. Do you honestly think that? Her voice had a puzzled note in it. I mean honestly and truly. I think what the evidence tells me to think, nothing less. In this case I have seen none of the so-called evidence. Shrugging, Zenn moved toward the opening of the tunnel, then drew back as a mass of rock crashed outside. It's raining boulders out there, he said. What do you know about the so-called new people? Not much, she answered. You're a very lovely liar, but the fact that you are lovely doesn't make you any less a liar, Zenn said. She was very beautiful with her violet eyes and bronze hair, but an overworked intelligence officer could not be concerned with these things. Thank you, Colonel, she said, but I do not relish being called a liar. Her face showed hurt, just the right amount of it, but at the same time her eyes laughed at him. However I guess there is nothing I can do about it, is there? Somehow she contrived to look like a small girl who has been unjustly accused of some deed she has not committed. In the distance the avalanche had grown to a halt. Now no more boulders were bounding down the hill. A vast, puzzled silence held the mountains. In that silence Zenn fancied he could hear the thoughts of the frightened men who had remained alive thus far, and were wondering how to prolong their precarious existence. They were also wondering if staying alive was worth the effort involved. Why not give up now and be done with all tragedy, with all tears, with all trying to find the road to the future? Up the trail a man began to scream. Like a homing pigeon that has finally found the right direction the nurse moved toward the sound. Zenn caught her arm again. Looking puzzled she stopped. Please, Colonel, I am needed up there. She knotted up the slope in the direction of the screaming man. You are probably needed by many others, he commented. She did not seem to understand. But I am a nurse. It is my duty to help those who are wounded. I know. He was a little startled to find himself in sympathy with this impulse. But not yet. Why not? Because that slope is still too hot to be safe. He held up his left wrist. Instead of a watch he wore a miniature radiation counter there. The needle was creeping up toward the red line. The radiation count is about forty right here at the mouth of this prospect hole, he pointed out. That is interesting, the nurse said. The tone over voice said it was not important. Half way up the slope it will hit a hundred. At the top of the ridge where the explosion took place the count may reach a thousand. In his opinion he had said enough. In her opinion he had not said anything at all. That makes no difference. Wounded men are up there. I am a nurse. My duty is clear to me. If you try to help them under these circumstances you will become a casualty yourself. But what of the men who need help? They will simply have to get out of the radiation zone themselves or wait until the area is clear and help can reach them. You are heartless. Not at all, he denied. If anything could be done to help them I would be doing it. Don't you understand what has happened? That was an Asian n-bomb that exploded. In an n-bomb the immediate effect is minor. The real purpose of the weapon is to spray the area with a high intensity radiation to make the ground unfit for living for months. Any living creature caught within the direct blast of the radiation is doomed and neither you nor I nor the medics can do anything to help them. He broke off as another man began screaming up the slope. The nurse was irresolute. But that man needs help, she pointed out. Certainly he needs help, Zen agreed. Well... Zen watched her carefully. She seemed to understand his words, but something else pulled at her far more strongly. The screaming of the injured man. Each time the soldier cried out she started in his direction. Well, well, thank you, Colonel. Turning she moved with a sure stride up the slope. Zen swore under his breath and started after her. Then caught the motion as the question rose in him as to why she should throw her life away. She knew the meaning of radiation and lethal quantities. Unquestionably she also knew what would happen to any normal human who ventured into a hot zone. Was she then a normal human being? Was he actually witnessing one of the miracles performed by the new people? If she came off the mountain slope alive it would certainly prove something. Zen cursed again. She was going where he could not safely follow. If she returned unharmed he had enough proof to warrant following her to the ends of the earth if need be. CHAPTER III The radio transmitter inside Zen's pack was small but very powerful. It did not look like a radio transmitter at all. There was no antenna and no apparent source of power. Only the tiny earphone and the throat microphone revealed its true nature. He slipped the phone into his ear, fitted the microphone against his throat, then picked up the piece of plastic tubing that was red on one end and green on the other. Wires ran from each end of this tube to the small box that housed the transmitter. Red goes to the right hand, he muttered, green to the left. Or is it the other way around? Looking up his mind that red went to the right he closed his fingers around the ends of the plastic tube, then watched the tiny meter on top of the small box that contained the transmitter. The needle moved on the dial. CALLING 9-9, he spoke. This is 6-1, CALLING 9-9. He repeated the call three times, then sat back on his haunches to await an answer. Come in, 6-1, the earphone said. What color is red? It's green this week, Zen answered promptly. What color was it last week? Last week? Oh yes, no color. And that means— White. This is Kurt Zen Kernel Intelligence reporting. Connect me immediately with General Stalker. Satisfied with the identity of the caller, the operator said, Just a minute, Kernel. I'll see if the General will talk to you. Tell him it's important. Zen urged. They always say that. The operator sighed, I'll put you through as soon as I can. Kurt, boy, where are you? General Stalker's voice boomed into a distant microphone. The General's voice always boomed. He was always hearty. He was always sure that while things might look black right now, they would work out all right in the end. By the time the booming voice reached Zen's earphone, it had been transformed into a tinny squeak. Kurt thought he detected an uneasy note in the squeak, and he wondered if the General had finally glimpsed the end and was finding it not quite as he had supposed. In hell, General, Zen answered. He swiftly told where he was and what had happened. Kusso's blooper knocked out the last pass by which we can bring an effective force against him. This whole area is loaded with radiation. How will we ever root that bastard out of this hole now? That's for the staff to decide. I have more important news. Yes? Talk hurt and fast. You don't mean that you... Yes, I mean I think this nurse may be it. I don't know yet. And explain what had happened. Dammit, Kurt, do you mean to tell me that if she comes back alive, you will know she is immune to the radiation and hence must be one of the new people? But if she comes back dead, or so loaded with radiation that she will die within a few days, then you will know that she was just like all the rest of us? Even through Zen's earphone, the General's voice had begun to boom. That's the way I see it," Zen answered. But, Goddammit, are you hurt, Kurt? The General's voice was suddenly solicitous. Are you all right? Dammit, I'm in my right mind," Zen answered. I was in a prospect hole when the blast went off. Don't you think I've got enough sense to take cover? Stocker's suddenly solicitous attitude irritated him. Sorry, sir. He apologized an instant later. It's quite all right, boy. I know that nerves get frayed in combat. But this nurse... That's the way I see it, sir," Zen said doggily. I request permission to follow her. If she comes back alive, you mean. I would appreciate it if you would stop reminding me of that possibility. Oh! So you are emotionally interested in her. Well, what if I am? She's a nice kid. They all are, boy. They all are, until you get to know them. As to permission to follow her, you've not only got it, but it's an order. We've got to find out about these new people. One of them appeared in President Wilkerson's private office this morning and told him to call off a planned landing in Asia. Really? Zen said, in the President's office. That's what I said. Did it really happen? I mean, was anyone present? No one except the President's secretary. She's under heavy sedation right now from shock. She thought God Almighty Himself had come walking in. The old man is not in much better shape. Stalker's voice showed signs of strain. I've got my orders from Wilkerson himself and I'm passing them on to you. Find these new people. Follow that nurse to hell if you have to. Right, sir. Report to me when you have something to report. That is, something besides going to bed with her. Auth. Zen grimaced as he pulled a tiny phone out of his ear. He slipped the transmitter back into the pack and slung it over his shoulder. The radiation count was dropping, but it was still too high for safety. He looked longingly up the trail. Wounded men were coming down, but Nedra was not in sight. The wounded men were no longer a fighting unit, but had become individuals, each one intent only on his own survival. Patriotism had gone from their minds. They no longer give a hoot about saving their country, but were only interested in saving their own lives. Far up the trail, Zen could see a tall figure moving upward. The nurse. He unslunged the pair of field glasses from his shoulder. Through the powerful lenses, Nedra's lithe figure was very clear. He saw her move to the side of the trail and kneel beside a wounded man who lacked the courage to walk downhill. Somehow she got the man to his feet and started him along the trail. He stumbled and fell. Again the nurse knelt beside him, but this time she made no attempt to lift him. Instead she got to her own feet. Zen decided the man had died as he fell. She continued on up the slope. Down below, motors roared and then came to a halt. Turning, Zen saw that a first aid station was being set up down there. The medics worked fast. Already they were directing the wounded men to the back end of a truck, where an examination station had been set up. But fast as they worked, they were too late to help the vast majority of the wounded. The futility of the effort depressed Zen, so he returned his attention to the nurse. She was in the middle of the trail again. The avalanche, directly ahead of her, had stopped her progress. A man was with her. Through the glasses the man looked as tall and craggy as a mountain peak. No soldier. He was without helmet or other headgear. His hair, white as the snow on top of a mountain, was flying in the wind. His face looked like a statue hewn in granite. One guest that he was a resident of this region, a mountaineer who had sought safety in these remote fastnesses and who had been blasted out of his hiding-place by Kuso's radioactive blooper and was wandering down this trail to die. The nurse was talking to him. Involuntarily, as if they had a will of their own, Zen's leg started carrying him up the slope. He had taken a dozen steps before he remembered the counter on his wrist. To hell with the count, he thought. I'm going up there and drag her down here. She's not going to throw her life away while I skulk like a coward down below. I don't give a damn whether she's one of the new people or not. She's human. He climbed the slope with giant strides. Then he saw that Nedra was running toward him and waving him back. Colonel, you can't come up here. I am coming up there," he shouted in reply. No! When he did stop, she ran faster toward him. The craggy man kept pace with her. Reaching Zen, she caught his sleeve, turned him around and started him down the slope. You can't be here! Her voice was breathless with protest. Are you giving me orders? Zen growled. Secretly, he was pleased because she was concerned about him. If you will permit me, Colonel, I think Nedra's intention is to save your life," the craggy man spoke. He had a voice like a bell tolling in the distance, sweet-toned and musical, but with overtones of great strength. What about her life? Zen demanded. I'm going down now, Colonel," the nurse said hastily. They've set up a first aid station. They will need me there. You will need their attention is what you mean," Zen said. Colonel, the counter," she answered. The needle was well over the hundred mark and was still rising. Come, Colonel. Hooking your arm in his, Nedra began moving down the rough, bolder, strewn trail. Zen did not move. She tugged harder. Your life is in danger here, sir," the craggy man said politely. That is of interest to me only," Zen answered. And what about your life? Colonel, I'd like you to meet a friend of mine," the nurse said quickly. Colonel Zen, Sam West, we'll talk while we walk down to the first aid station. A pleasure to meet you, sir," West said, extending his hand. His hand-clasp was firm, but there was a suggestion of additional power in his fingers. Nice to meet you, Mr. West. Do you live around here? Over that way," the craggy man said, knotting vaguely over his shoulder. Again the nurse tugged at Zen's arm. He set his feet solidly on the mountain trail. We'll talk right here. But you are taking an unfair advantage of Nedra," the craggy man protested. This area is heavy with radiation and this is neither the time nor the place to be swapping horses. Then why are you two here? I was getting out of the area as fast as I could when I met Nedra," West said. I would still be getting out of it, but fast, if you were not stopping me. I'm not stopping you," Zen said. There's the trail, hit it. Nor you either," he said to Nedra. Don't be silly, Kurt," the nurse said. She was pleading with him now. All right, but on one condition. Why did you come up here in the first place? You knew the area was hot. I... I lost my head," the nurse said properly. My emotions ran away with me. I'm a nurse and wounded men needed my attention. I went to them. You will come down the trail with us, won't you?" The vile had eyes begged him to believe in her. What made you lose your head? Why, shock, I suppose. This is the first time I was bombed. Also, the screaming of the wounded. Really, sir, I am a nurse. The way she said the word, being a nurse, meant something. The violet eyes had grown tired of begging and were on the verge of spitting anger at him. I don't believe a damn word you have said," Zen said. You didn't lose your head back there in the prospect hole. Please, Kurt. Again she tugged at his arm. I'll talk to you all you want down below, but don't try to force me to stay here. Reluctantly, Zen yielded to the pressure on his arm. Relief appeared in the violet eyes and the face of the craggy man showed a sudden release from some inner strain. Dimly, he thought he had seen that craggy face somewhere before, but the picture that flicked through his mind was gone before he could fit a time and place tag on it. Going down the trail, he steered the nurse toward a truck where the medics had set up equipment to test the amount of exposure to radiation. In doing this, he discovered that she was steering him in the same direction. I don't need the medics, he protested. I'm all right. I wasn't exposed long enough to do any damage. Of course you're all right, she answered. Her tone was similar to that of an indulgent mother reassuring a hurt child. You're the one who needs help, he said. He was certain she had remained too long. I'm going to get it if I need it, she said soothingly. Zen could hear the occasional crunch of boots behind them. West was keeping silent. He did not seem to be in a hurry. Zen started to speak to Nedra. The thought of what he wanted to say was dim in his mind and he could not quite find the words for it, but he knew that it had something to do with a wish that the world were different and that the human race were not trying to destroy itself. Why should he be wishing this? The reason for his thinking became a little clearer. He was wishing the world were different so that he might make love to this nurse under conditions that would permit his love to bear other fruit than frustration, despair, and death. He found himself wishing that a fine covered cottage existed somewhere, a place where a man and a woman might live in peace and reasonable security, raising some kids who could play on a mountain slope that was not saturated with atomic radiation. Here's the first aid station, the nurse said. And... And what? He asked her when she did not continue. She gave his arm a squeeze. And thank you for the dream, she whispered. As Kurt Zinn turned startle eyes toward her, wondering how she had known what he had been dreaming, her face seemed to dissolve in a grey mist. He plunged unconscious to the ground at her feet. End of Chapter 3 Chapter 4 of Doomsday Eve by Robert Moore Williams. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Doomsday Eve Chapter 4 The jar of striking the ground seemed to bring the intelligence agent back to consciousness instantly. As Nedra started to kneel beside him he was already getting to his feet. She tried to help him rise. He shrugged her hand away. What happened, she asked. Nothing, he said. This didn't seem quite right. I... I... He tried to think what had happened. I fainted. That's all. I just fainted. To him this seemed a reasonable explanation for everything that needed explaining. Nedra seemed to think otherwise. But men like you don't just faint, she protested. I did. They don't faint unless something is wrong with them, Nedra continued. Are you sure you're not suffering from delayed shock following the bomb explosion? Or... Her voice slid away into silence as if she were afraid to voice the thought that was in her mind. Behind her West said nothing. I just did it, Zen said, becoming more indignant. I fainted. Who says it can't be done? Confusion existed somewhere. He was sure it was the nurse who was confused. He shook his head in an effort to clear up her difficulty. I saw you do it. All I am trying to say is that, perhaps there may be a reason for it. Nope, Zen said. I'm not going to the aid station. No reason for it. I'm all right. It's the world out there that is wrong. This made sense to him. I know you are all right, Nedra answered. Her face showed strain. But it might be a good idea to have the doctors check just to make sure. Zen, busy shaking his head again, hardly heard her. He had the impression that her confusion would clear up in a minute. Somehow it reminded him of the confusion that he had suffered after inhaling a whiff of nerve gas once. When had this happened? He was not sure now. Perhaps it had taken place in the remote past, perhaps on some other planet. He realized his mind was wandering. Again he shook his head. But I really think, Colonel, I wasn't shaking my head at you, Zen corrected. Good. Then we will go see the doctors. I didn't mean that either. I was shaking my head to clear it. There's a fog in it. A fog in your head? Unease appeared in her voice. Yes, what's wrong with that? Lots of men have fogs in their heads. To him this seemed a reasonable statement. Lots of men have to go to the docks every couple of weeks to have the fogs blown out of their heads. Thinking he had made a joke, he laughed. Nedra did not think he had said anything funny. Resolutely, she took his arm. Come with me, Colonel. As she led him toward the truck which the medics were using for our first aid station, something happened. He saw clearly. He saw everything. The ability to see came suddenly out of nowhere. One second it was not there. Then it was there. It was like seeing with eyes, except it was better than ocular perception had ever been. With it he was not only able to see surfaces, he could also see into the interior of things. An acute understanding of what he saw went with the perception. He saw that the universe was as tall as a man and no taller. He saw that it was as wide as a man and no wider. He saw that it was as broad as a man and no broader. He saw the human race in its entirety, one man and all men, all men in one man. Simultaneously, he saw the whole history of the race. He saw the long journey it had made from so-called inanimate matter to the point where it was now a creature that looked outward to the stars. He saw that the destiny of the race lay in those stars, and in all that vast expanse of space between them if it did not destroy itself in the process of growing to star stature. He saw that the race could do exactly this, that it could blow itself back to the component atoms that composed it, in which case the long and toilsome, the heartbreaking struggle upward from the atomic level would have to begin all over again. He also knew what he was doing with this clear seeing. He was touching the race-mind. He was in contact with the race-field. His consciousness had been lifted to the level of that vast, all-pervading but very subtle force-field that comprised the race-mind. The knowledge was sudden agony in him, a pain that was needle sharp in the region of his heart. The pain was strange because, while he could feel it and knew it was happening in his body, it had no meaning to him. He was detached from it, it hurt his body, but it did not hurt or harm him. His body was alarmed by the pain, his breath quickened, and a faint trace of sweat appeared on his skin. But he was not alarmed. Even if his body fell dead, he would not be concerned. What is it, Kurt? His ears heard Nedra say. She had detected his heavy breathing, and she was alarmed. Are you about to faint again? No, his lips answered. His body laughed at the question. He heard the sound of his laughter as being both his and not his. His body knew it was not going to faint. His laughter sounded hollow and out of place, but he did not care about that either. Ahead, soldiers were lined up at the back end of the truck, waiting their turn in line. Your rank entitles you to priority, Nedra said hesitantly. In the place where I am now, my rank doesn't exist, he answered. I joined the end of the line, I take my turn. He was quite stubborn about this. The nurse looked pleased. He wondered if he had said something important. To him, what he had said seemed obvious. Behind him, West was a silent shadow wrapped in an enigma, even with his sudden new perception, his contact with a higher form of consciousness, he could not perceive West clearly. Something about the craggy man defied penetration and analysis. The men in the line ahead of him waited for their turn, shuffling forward each time the medics finished with their examination. There was no talk in the line. Not a man grumbled, not a man complained. Knowing men, Zen knew that this was ominous. These men had had it. They knew that they had had it. In the face of that knowledge, nothing else mattered. Outwardly, they looked fit. Inwardly, something had happened to them. It seemed to Zen that he could see glows coming from their bodies. One was swaying. Zen seemed to glimpse a blob of light moving suddenly upward from the man. The soldier fell. He did not move a muscle after he hit. Nedra started toward him. Zen shook his head. No use, he said. Why not? Zen pointed skyward. He went that way. Her face whitened as she caught his meaning. I'll make sure. She moved forward and inspected the fallen man, fell for a pulse and felt again, then got to her feet. As she returned, her back seemed to have acquired a new sag. An officer shouted from the truck, his voice gravel rough from tension. In response, a stretcher bearing detail moved forward. They inspected the body of the fallen man, then lifted it and tossed it to the side of the trail. One clipped a dog-tag from it, then ran a counter over it. He grunted to his companion, who tied a red tag on the dead man's wrist. Up that way, boys, you can find some more. Zen called to them, jerking his thumb up the slope. Where not a burial detail was the answer. The soldiers in the line shuffled forward. Hey, it's gone, Zen said suddenly. What's gone? I'm back, Zen said. You never went anywhere, the nurse said. It's gone, and I'm back both mean the same thing, he tried to explain. The thing that is gone is my contact with the race field. I'm back means that all of a sudden I'm normal. I'm back here. I'm looking out of my eyes. I'm hearing with my ears. I don't know everything any longer. Days was in him. Worse than the days was the fact that even the memory of the experience was receding. Agony came with this recession. It seemed to him that this experience was the most important thing that had ever happened to him. And it was going away. He watched it slide out of his memory. He felt like running wildly to try and recapture it. Which way he would run did not matter, just so he ran until he found it again. He fought the impulse to run. The experience was not out there. It could not be found if he searched the whole world for it. It was inside him. Nedra looked at West and started to speak, but the craggy man motioned her to silence. Saul on the road to Damascus, Zen muttered. Something like this happened to Saul on the road to Damascus. Kurt, Nedra said. Again the craggy man motioned her to silence. The fellow, rough mountaineer that he was, seemed to have some perception of the turmoil inside a fellow human being, and more than that, to have understanding and sympathy. I contacted the race-mind, Zen said. For a minute I was in touch with the field of the race. But it's gone now, he added. Sadness and a falling voice went with the last words. Step in front of the scope, soldier! A gravel voice growled behind him. Turning, he saw that he was next in line. The lieutenant in charge of the first aid station had spoken to him. Seeing the eagle on Zen's helmet, he hastily apologized. I beg your pardon, sir. It's all right, Zen said. For an instant, as conflicting ideas competed for expression in him, he wondered who he was and why he was here. Then he remembered what had happened. Well-established reaction patterns took over and he stepped into position in front of the scope. Inside the back end of the truck, a transformer hummed. Although he could not feel it, he knew that a powerful stream of radiation was passing through his body and that account was being made of the radioactivity he had absorbed. The lieutenant studied his meters, then looked up at Zen. You're all right, sir. He seemed puzzled. Not hot, eh? No, sir, you're not. Frankly, I don't understand it. Oh, you've got a little exposure, but nothing serious. I was in one of the old minds when the blast went off, Zen explained. Then that accounts for it. You were lucky as hell, sir. Next. Catching Nedra's arm, Zen swung her in front of the scope. The experience with higher levels of consciousness had been forced out of his mind, and he was all intelligence officer. But I'm all right. I mean, there's nothing wrong. Are you out of your mind again? Yes, Zen said. But I've got the rank to make my decisions stick, whether I'm out of my mind or not. Lieutenant, check this woman. This is an order. Zen snapped out the words with all the precision and authority of a drill-field sergeant training recruits. Yes, sir, the startled medical officer said. Ignoring Nedra's protests, Zen held her in place while the equipment was put into operation. Behind them, West watched. The faintest trace of an approving smile showed on the craggy man's face. The Lieutenant looked up from his meters. She's all right, too, sir. Sure of that? Of course I'm sure. This counter doesn't lie. The medical officer was indignant. So was Nedra. The violet eye shot sparks of anger at the colonel. Zen was unimpressed. Deep inside, he was tremendously relieved. She had come down alive. She was unharmed. This was enough to make him feel good all over. He also knew what she was. No ordinary mortal could have remained in the hot zone for the length of time she had been there and emerged unharmed. He did not mind her anger. Instead, he turned to West. Here, next. He did not know what response to expect from the craggy man. It might be anything. To his surprise, West smiled. Glad to, Colonel. I was hoping I would get tested, so I would know where I stood. Without hesitation, West stepped in front of the scope. While I am certain I did not receive enough exposure to do any damage, still it is best to follow your example and make certain. The deep voice was suave, with tiny overtones of amusement in it somewhere. Again the Lieutenant studied his meters and again he looked up. Real perplexity was on his face. Three OKs in a row. I didn't have a single OK up until now. His gaze went up the slope in the direction where the bomb had exploded. Does that mean I'm all right? West asked. Yes, definitely all right, the Lieutenant answered, and I don't pretend to understand it. I was in a hole too, West said. He seemed to be amused at some joke known only to him. The Lieutenant brightened. Then I understand it. I wish I did, Zen said to himself. There was no longer any doubt in his mind that Nedra was one of the new people. As to West, the man was an enigma. Not knowing how long West had been exposed to the radiation, Zen did not know what to make of his freedom from it. But there was certainly something peculiar about him. Colonel, it was good to meet you. West was coming toward him with outstretched hand. Zen had the impression that the man's hand could turn into a veritable bear trap if West chose. Perhaps we shall meet again, sir. The words were a statement, not a question. An enigmatical smile played over the craggy man's face. Who knows whether we shall meet again? Zen answered, shrugging. Generally, when people say good-bye these days, they mean good-bye forever. I know. Sadness showed on the craggy, lined face. It is too bad that things have to be this way. Well, experience is a difficult school, but homo sapiens seems incapable of learning in any other. It is war, Zen said. I disagree with you there, West said. War is only a symptom of the disease. It is only an expression of humanity. War itself is not at fault, but man. Nor can man really be regarded as being at fault, since what he is now going through is only a stage of growth. Momentarily the memory of the contact with the race-mind flicked through Zen's consciousness. I know that, he said. Then he hesitated. Or I knew it once. Ah, when? Up the slope there, I knew it. But I have forgotten now what I knew. Zen spoke slowly. He was trying hard to remember, or to forget. He wasn't sure which. Ah, West repeated. Good day, sir. Nedra, I would like to speak with you for a moment before I leave. With your permission, of course, Colonel Zen. Certainly, Zen said. He watched the nurse and the craggy man move up the trail a few steps. They carried on a conversation in tones too low for him to overhear, then parted. West went down to the bottom of the ravine and crossed to the other side of the gulch, where he began to climb the opposite slope, staying as far away from the radioactive zone as possible. Nedra returned to Zen beside the truck. Does he live back there? The intelligence agent asked. I really don't know, the nurse answered. I think he does, but I'm not certain. It's rough country to live in. From what I have seen of him he seems capable of living almost anywhere. Do you know him well? The violet eyes regarded him thoughtfully. You are asking a great many questions, sir. I'm going to ask more. My telephone number, no doubt. I'm sorry, but I don't have a telephone. The violet eyes grew pensive. But if I did have a telephone number, there is no one I would rather give it to than you. He felt a warm glow at her words. The dream that he had once shared with millions of other men, of a wife and kids, came into his mind again, a yearning that was as old as history. If he had his free choice, he would go with this dream. He knew he did not have a free choice. Indeed, he doubted if he had any choice at all. Nor had any other man. History had moved past the day when this dream could be realized. Fate was sweeping it into the dust heap of good things that were gone forever. End of Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Of Doomsday Eve by Robert Moore Williams This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Doomsday Eve Chapter 5 She is immune to radiation, Zen thought, after Nedra had left to rejoin her unit. This in itself was of sufficient importance to attract and hold the interest of the top military and scientific minds. Perhaps soldiers could also be immunized. Perhaps, by some impossible freak of chance, a way might be found for workers to return to abandoned factories, to long closed shops and forges. This might mean a new flow of goods and materials to troops that were desperately short of them, and to a civilian population that at a conservative estimate was more than half starved. A human being who had achieved immunity to radiation was important enough to command his complete attention. Also, the probability was very great that she was one of the mysterious new people. Something else about her interested him even more. He could not put his finger on this something else, but he suspected it had to do with the future, with another world and the one he knew, or with another universe. Again, the memory of his contact with the race-mind flicked through his consciousness. Now he knew what he was going to do insofar as Nedra was concerned. He had a hunch what her next move would be. He would wait for her to make it. Finding a carbine was not difficult. On this trail the weapons were to be had for picking them up. A dead man's ammunition pouches were filled with cartridges. He took the pouches. Carrying the carbine, he slid down the bank toward the mountain stream that talked to itself at the bottom of the canyon. The water was clear and cool, but dead trout floating in it warned him not to drink. Seeking a place from which he could watch the canyon, he moved upward. A dim trail was visible through the pines here. An old narrow gauge railroad, he thought. The rails had been removed long since, the ties had rotted away, and the road bed itself was hardly a trail through the growth of trees. He had barely settled himself in a spot from which to watch the ravine below, then a stone turned on the old road bed. Nedra was coming along the trail. He let her pass without challenge. Sliding out of hiding, he followed her. Twisting and turning, the trail climbed slowly upward. When it reached the edge of the timber, Zenn caught a glimpse of a slide of yellow rock far ahead, an old mine dump which told him why the road had been constructed in the first place. A ghost town was probably ahead. He caught a glimpse of Nedra moving steadily ahead along the old road bed. If she doesn't know exactly where she is going, then I'm missing my guess, he thought as he followed her. Elation was rising in him. She was leading him straight to the hiding place of the new people. Here in these mountains, a small group could remain in hiding forever. Food might eventually become a problem, but there was plenty of game in the ranges, deer, elk, and bear, and some of the high valleys had been in cultivation before the war. A few hearty pioneers had always managed to find a living in this wilderness. If they could do it, so could this new group. Of course, they would have to evade Kuso's roving patrols, raiding for food, supplies, and women. But that ought not to be too difficult. The ghost town was in sight. Surrounding an old mine, a crusher and a concentrator, the ghost town was also in ruins. Unlike so many small cities, the ruin here had not come from attack but from nature. The snows of winter had piled their burden on flimsy roofs. The seepage of spring had rotted the timbers, with the result that many of the houses had simply collapsed. Weeds grew in the doorways, and scrubbed cedars had found roots in the streets. Nedra was walking down the middle of what had once been the main street. Her stride was still certain, and she seemed to know exactly where she was going. The ragged man appeared in the door of the garage on her left. He spoke to the nurse, calling to her. She jumped at the sound of the voice, glanced at the man, and then continued walking. Hey, wait a minute, cutie! The fellow shouted, loud enough for Zen to hear him. He lunged out of the doorway toward her. She turned to face him. Kurt Zen lifted the carbine, then dropped the muzzle. He not only had great confidence in Nedra's ability to protect herself, but he wanted to see what would happen. The loop of rope, thrown with all the skill of a cowboy, came from the opposite side of the street. It settled over her shoulders, pinned her arms to the side, and was instantly jerked tight. She was pulled to the ground. The man who had lunged out of the doorway of the garage leaped toward her. Throwing her on her stomach, face down, he jerked both hands behind her back, then began to search her for a weapon. The man who had thrown the rope came out of hiding to help his companion. He was short with bow legs. Together they held the nurse down. Zen raised the carbine to his shoulders. Although he had not previously fired this weapon, at this distance he could not miss. Her scream came to his ears. Colonel, watch out! In startled surprise he slid the carbine from his shoulder. She had known he was following her and that he was somewhere near. Thoughts like startled hornets flicked through his consciousness. How had she known he was following her? Why had she let him do it? More important, where was she leading him? Most important of all, why was she trying to save him when her own life was in danger? Even if she had known he was following her, obviously she had known these men were here. She hadn't been coming to meet them. Then what was her purpose in climbing to this old ghost town which lay just at Timberline on the edge of a mountain wilderness where Cusso was held at bay? The first ruffian was standing erect. Zen brought the sights of the carbine to bear in the center of his ragged coat. Drop the gun! a voice said behind him. Even more surprising than the command was a fact that he knew the voice that had spoken, or he thought he did. He let the carbine slide from his fingers. Now get him up! he raised his hands. Hello, Jake! he called out. An exclamation of surprise came from behind him. How the hell did you know me? Recognized your voice? Zen answered. Can I turn around now? Sure, sure, but what the hell are you doing up here? Turning, Zen saw the automatic rifle that covered him. The muzzle was wavering and the men who held it seemed confused. His face was covered with a heavy growth of black whiskers and long hair peeped out from underneath the battered helmet. Jake, it's really good to see you again. As if such things as automatic rifles did not exist, Zen advanced without stretched hand. Kurt Zen! I haven't seen you since—since! The night that Denver got it, Zen answered. Horror overwhelmed him as he remembered what had happened to the mile-high city. A bomb had struck from the sky that night and parts of Denver had gone much higher than a mile. Yeah, that's it, yeah. I thought you had got it that night, Kurt. I thought the same thing about you. What are you doing up here? And what—what happened to Marsha? The instant Zen asked the question, he wished he had kept still. At the name, something happened in the man's eyes. They began to change, going from comprehension to blankness, then coming back to understanding, then losing that and going back to blankness. One instant the eyes looked at Zen and the man remembered and liked this Colonel. The next instant neither the eyes nor the mind behind them knew him. Zen was then an alien, a stranger, to be distrusted and feared and possibly destroyed. When Zen had known him in Denver, Jake had been a young airman. He and Marsha had been newly married and very much in love with each other. She—she— The voice was choked and tight with pain. The radiation got her. For an instant the memory held true. But there was too much pain in the memory for this man to face it. The memory went away. Only the pain remained. Marsha? Oh, she's fine. The next leave I get we're going to have a second honeymoon. A glow appeared in the man's eyes. I can see her now waiting for me. You must go with me, Kurt, and meet her again the next leave I get. Zen could have slugged him. He could have lifted the rifle out of Jake's hands without protest. Instead, he did nothing. The man's pain was much too real to hurt him further. What's going on here? A rough voice said. It was the man in the ragged coat. Nedra and the man who had thrown the rope had disappeared. There was no indication where they had gone. This man's beard was thin and ragged. He had teeth like the fangs of a wolf, but the lights in his eyes did not shift. Instead, they remained fixed in constant hostility and suspicion. He had a submachine gun in his hands. The muzzle covered Zen. Oh, hello, Cal. I— Jake became confused. This is an old buddy of mine. I knew him down below. I knew him when—he's all right. Cal's eyes said he did not believe a word he had heard. He looked Zen up and down. The muzzle of the gun did not waver from the intelligence agent's stomach. What are you doing up here? Maybe I got tired of the way things are down there, Zen answered. He was not lying. He was tired of the way things were going, so were uncounted millions of others. Cal's eyes indicated he did not believe this. Zen could see him turning over different possibilities in his mind. He was inclined to use the gun. Dumping another body down the gorge would be an easy solution to the problem of an intruder. How are things going down there? He asked. Buff, Zen said, with conviction in his voice. What was that big boom over that way this morning? Cusol letting go with a blooper? Interest kindled in Cal's eyes. What was over there that was worth the cost of a blooper? A column of troops heading for Cusol's lair, Zen answered. He didn't like it. I guess he wouldn't, Cal said. You with him? I was. Which way are they going now? Back down hill to die, Zen answered. Why didn't you go with them? I got tired, Zen said. He waved his hands in a gesture which was intended to explain how a man sometimes got tired and went off to rest for a while. Cal grunted. This he understood. Are you hot? He asked. Nope, the medics checked me just before I took off. And are there others down there who feel like heading for the hills? Most of them are too damn near dead to make the effort. Why desert when you've had it? The blooper got a lot of them, eh? What the blast didn't get, the radioactivity did. Is the pass too hot for more troops to go through it? My guess is that way. Your guess? Don't you know? I didn't go up to C. I'm not that soft in the head. I see your point. Well, things must be really rough if kernels are deserting. This is interesting. Cal fingered the gun, but the muzzle no longer pointed at Zen's stomach. What are you looking for up here? A place to hide out? For how long? Hell, how long can this go on? Zen answered. Even when it's over, I don't want to go back down there and walk on skulls. Walk on skulls? That's all that will be left. You think the Asians are going to win then? I got a hunch there will be more skulls than anything else in Asia, too. No, I don't think they're going to win. I don't think anybody is going to win this one, except the people have enough sense to hide. Jake came out of his dreaming and put his hand on Cal's shoulder. Kurt's all right, he said. It was obvious that Cal did not think very highly of this recommendation. He's my pal. He's my pal, Jake continued. Let him join us. He'll make a good hand. Besides, me and him were buddies. And there was a girl. He stopped speaking and broke into dark musing as the memory of his wife came again into his mind. Were you with this woman? Cal asked. He never was with this woman in his life! Jake screamed. She was mine, I tell you, mine! Shut up, crazy head! Tell him, Kurt, tell him Marcia was mine! Sure, Jake, Zen soothed. Everybody knew you and Marcia were that way. Cal and I were talking about another woman. Oh, that's different. But I don't want to hear either of you say that Marcia didn't belong to me. The wolf-faced man looked as if he was about to use his gun on Jake. You sticking nuthead! You stay out of this. All I was trying to do was tell you Kurt was my pal. All right, you've told me. Now shut up. Cal turned to Zen again. About this woman, Colonel, were you together? No, Zen said. But she yelled out to you when me and Ed grabbed her. I heard her. You did. Cal's finger went around the trigger of the gun. Yeah, I was following her, but I didn't know she knew until she yelled. Oh, Cal kept his finger on the trigger. Why were you following her? Hell, don't be stupid! Zen exploded. Why would any man follow a woman like that? A trace of a grin went across the wolf-face at this answer. Cal licked his lips. This was an answer he understood. I don't blame you for that. But why was she coming up here? That I don't know, Zen said. I don't think it made much difference anyhow. As soon as night came, he squinted at the sun. Do you think she might be a spy for Kuso, heading for his camp to report? Zen felt his lower jaw sag. This was a thought that had not crossed his mind. He knew what was going to happen. He knew only too well that the Asiatic had spies in as many places as he could get them. Kuso's survival depended in a large degree on knowing how many troops were moving against him, how they were armed, and over what passes they were coming. I see by your face that you had never thought of that, Cal said. Then what is she doing up here? I don't know. I realized she was ahead of me about a mile back, as to what she is doing. Maybe she got tired of all that down there too, and decided to come up here and live in the mountains. A woman in this wilderness? Some women have delusions that they can return to the primitive and make a go of it. And maybe she had some other idea, Cal said. Zen shrugged. Knowing this may be important to us, Cal said. Then we had better go ask her, Zen said. He was still shocked at the thought that Nedra might be a spy. Up until now he had thought he was shock-proof. You want to ask her? Cal said. Sure. Okay, you do the asking. I'll listen. And don't get any funny ideas. His finger curled around the trigger of the gun. Remember, that if a patrol should come looking for a deserter they would only be going to shoot him. I would be doing them a favor if I shot him in advance. I covered my tracks, Zen said. Nobody will be looking for me. How did you do it? I traded dog tags with a hunk of meat that had once been a GI. There wasn't enough left of him to tell for sure what he was. The burial detail will clip my tags from his body, and another colonel will be listed as killed in action. The GI will be listed as missing. That was smart, Cal said approvingly. For the first time, Zen thought he detected a note of admiration in the voice tones of the ragged man. Nedra was leaning against what had once been a workbench in the garage. Her helmet was off, her hair was ruffled, and her tunic had been almost torn from her body. A look of pure gratitude appeared on her face when Zen stepped through the doorway. A little cry of gladness on her lips, she started toward him. Her eyes said she had never been as happy to see anybody in her life as she was to see this tall lean colonel. With her was the little bow-legged man. He didn't look happy as Zen entered. Stand still, he snarled at the girl. Who the hell are you? At his words, Nedra let her body sag back against the bench. Ed, this is Kurt, Cal said. He's joining us. The look in Ed's eyes were pure venom. He may join us, but he won't last long. This woman is mine. I saw her first. Zen wished fervently that he had the carbine back in his possession. Some vermin did not deserve to live. But Jake had that weapon. While he could probably take the carbine away from Jake, the gun in Cal's hands was very steady. She's not mine, you know, he said to Ed, so far as I'm concerned you are welcome to her. Oh, that's different, Ed said, relieved. If Zen's words relieved Ed, they had the opposite effect on Nedra. She opened her mouth to speak to him, then closed it in an apparent effort to bite off words that no lady should use. Cal laughed. Ed is mighty touchy about his women, but don't let that stop you. Ask her what she's doing up here. None of your damn business, either of you, Nedra answered. Zen shrugged and spread his hands in a gesture which said that he hoped Cal would see how it was. Cal nodded. We'll find out later. His manner indicated there was no question in his mind that he would find out what he wanted to know. Right now it's time for Chow. Jake, get on the job. Jake turned and walked across the street to another house. Cal bringing up the rear, the others followed Jake. Ed took hold of Nedra's arm and escorted her across the street, seeing this Kurt Zen again wished that he had a gun. End of Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Of Doomsday Eve by Robert Moore Williams This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Doomsday Eve Chapter 6 The meal was beef stew, which Jake prepared in a big pot on an old wood-burning range. They all laid around the kitchen table. There are lots of wild cattle up here, Cal explained. This used to be good range country, you know. The remnants of the old beef herds are still in existence, the ones that have learned how to dodge or whip the lions, that is. Zen was busy watching Nedra and Ed. The little Bantam was following every move she made and was keeping as close to her as possible. He insisted on sitting next to her at the table, and he kept trying to touch her at every opportunity. Zen kept silent. Inwardly he was greatly perturbed. Night was already throwing shadows over the mountains. What would happen after darkness fell? Trying to keep such thoughts out of his mind, he found himself wondering if it would be possible for him to break the Bantam's neck with his bare hands. He decided he could do this, and that he would like to do it, but that he would also like to stay alive afterward. Girls who go walking in the mountains have to take what happens to them, he said. Nedra ignored him. Ed glowered at him. Cal chuckled, but continued eating without speaking. Jake ate as if he did not know what he was doing or where he was. Occasionally he looked toward the northwest and shook his fist in that direction. Zen knew that deep in his sick mind Jake was dreaming of what he would do to the Asians. Remembering Marsha, Zen did not blame him. Ed tried to urge the nurse toward the dilapidated sofa in the room, but she eluded him and sat on an empty powder can, to the obvious disgust of the Bantam. Two people could not sit on the same powder can. Jake rattled dishes in the kitchen and fought imaginary Asians. Cal found a seat in the corner, a position from which he could watch everyone in the room. Off in the night, an owl hooded. Ed jumped at the sound, grabbed Nedra's hand, and tried to drag her toward a ladder that led to some kind of an attic. Cal rose to his feet and moved toward the door. Stop it, Nedra said to Ed. But, honey, you've got to get out of here! Ed urged. The Bantam was at the edge of panic. Why? Because that owl hoot was a signal. The guys who are coming will take you away from me. Ed explained. Fine, Nedra said, her face brightening. There is justice in the world, after all. The good Lord does look after the poor working girl. Her voice indicated that she had begun to doubt this. But you don't know who these guys are, Ed protested. I don't care who they are. Satan himself would be welcome to me right now. The words were addressed to Ed, but she was looking at Kurt Zenn as she spoke. Zenn did not attempt to answer her implied accusation. Damn it! I ain't going to let them take you away from me! Ed shouted. Again he reached for the nurse's hand to drag her toward the ladder. She slugged him in the mouth. In a fury, his fists clenched, the Bantam started toward her. She dodged behind Zenn. Lay off her, Ed. Cal ordered. But she belongs to me, Ed shouted. You know I saw her first. You said so yourself. The little man was beside himself with frustration and fury. If the Lieutenant decides he wants her, you'll probably be the first one dead, the ragged man commented. Then he shrugged. However, it seemed to me that he would be the first one to shrugge. However, it's your funeral, not mine. Only, you probably won't get a funeral. Again the old hoot sounded, just outside the house this time. Cal opened the door. A Lieutenant and four soldiers entered. Zenn took one look at the dirty uniforms and the slant eyes and the dirty yellow faces, and knew that these were Cusso's men. Coming into the room, the Lieutenant took command. Who is this? he demanded, nodding curtly towards Zenn. He had not as yet noticed Nedra, who was still behind Kurt. A Colonel who has seen the light of reason and has come over to our side? The ragged man promptly answered. Good! Cusso will be very glad to talk to him. The grin on the Lieutenant's face left no doubt as to the meaning that lay back of his words. Cusso's methods of extracting information from any person careless enough to fall into his hands were well known. It will be a privilege to talk to the great leader of the Asian forces, Zenn said. He felt sweat begin to appear under both arms. As soon as the Lieutenant had appeared he had known that Cal was a spy supplying information to Cusso. I am sure Cusso will find it so, the Lieutenant said. The grin vanished from his face as he caught a glimpse of Nedra behind the Colonel. The rifle in his hands came up. Who is that? he demanded. A nurse who has also joined us, Cal hastily explained. What's she doing behind him? Ed was urging her to go upstairs with him and she hid behind this man. Cal explained. A tick had appeared in the right cheek of the ragged man. Oh, the Lieutenant said. His grin reappeared. Come out, please. As Nedra stepped his end side the Lieutenant's grin widened. He sucked in his breath. Yes, oh, but yes, Cusso will want to talk to her. Of that I am very sure. Ed, his face as black as tar, started to protest. He took another look at the rifle in the Asian's hand and quickly changed his mind. The chattering of his teeth was audible all over the room. Why do you make that noise? The Lieutenant said, looking at him. It's—it's cold in here, Ed stuttered. As the Bantam spoke, Zenn noticed that the temperature in the big room seemed to have dropped far more than seemed reasonable. Even the opening of the door and the admission of the cool night air was not enough to account for the sudden shield in the room. This cold was different from anything Zenn had ever experienced before. It seemed to start at the center of the bones and work its way outward, reaching the skin surface last of all, where it produced a prickling sensation. I wished to eat, the Lieutenant said. Of course, Cal instantly agreed. Jake, food for the gentlemen! Jake, his eyes murky, was standing in the door leading to the kitchen. The expression on his face indicated that he was about to launch himself at the Asians. Get into that kitchen! Cal shouted. Oh, all right! Jake answered, moving out of sight. The banging of the pots and pans that followed his departure seemed to have a sullen sound. That one is not right in the head, the Asian officer said. He's just dumb, Cal said defensively. The Lieutenant pursed his lips. I forgot to mention that I left some of my men outside. Bring them in, Cal said properly. They're probably hungry, too, and cold. I think I shall leave them where they are, the Lieutenant said decisively. I left them on guard. They have set up a mounted machine gun at the edge of the street. I see, Cal said. The gun covers this house, the officer continued. Oh, Cal said. A sudden shiver passed through his body. He knew perfectly well what the Lieutenant had just told him. It seemed to Kurt Zinn that the temperature of the room had dropped another ten degrees. He was shivering, too, from the effect of that strange cold that seemed to start at the marrow of the bones and spread itself outward. Of all those in the room, Nedra was the only one who did not seem to be suffering from the effect of the chill. Her eyes were bright, and her face had a warm glow. Zinn watched her out of the corners of his eyes. Didn't she know that she had escaped from Ed only to fall into the tender mercies of Cusso's men? What has happened to you, he whispered to her. Turned toward him, her eyes had a glow that seemed to come from some light that was suddenly burning inside them. The glow went from purple to violet, then to ultraviolet. After that, Zinn could no longer see the glow, but he suspected it had gone into higher ranges still. What was more surprising was the fact that she was no longer frightened. Confidence had suddenly come to her, seemingly out of nowhere. What do you think has happened to me? Her voice had changed, too. All tension had gone from it. The ragged edges of conflict had disappeared. She seemed to be the mistress of the situation and to know it. Jake came from the kitchen. I pick up vibrations, he announced, his voice shrill. Get into the kitchen, Cal ordered as Lieutenant raised his gun. But I'm only trying to tell you something. I'm telling you something. Get back into that kitchen, Cal ordered. Jake's gaze went murkly around the room, but it was obvious that he was giving more attention to some internal sight or sound than to the people present. Get! Cal shouted. Jake backed from the doorway. The Lieutenant lowered the muzzle of the gun. He barked in order to the men with him who arranged themselves with their backs to the wall. The officer moved toward the fire where he settled himself in a chair. You, he said, take off my boots. He was speaking to Zinn. Kurt measured the distance to the Lieutenant's jaw. Out of the corners of his eyes he noted the positions of the Asian soldiers. Odds are too great, he thought. Stay alive now. Maybe your turn will come. As he turned to Neil, he bumped into Nedra, who was already on the floor unbuckling the officer's boots. If you would rather do it, I would rather have you do it, the Lieutenant said, smirking. It is a privilege, sir, the girl said. She pulled off the heavy boot and began to peel off the thick sock. The probability that she had saved Kurt Zinn's life was very great. He felt a surge of anger at his own helplessness. The feeling of cold at the marrow of his bones was appearing again. It was stronger now. He noticed that Cal's hands were trembling. The teeth of one of the soldiers standing against the wall were chattering audibly. A second soldier looked as if he were about to go to sleep. Zinn discovered, as he yawned, that he was getting sleepy too. Along with the cold creeping outward from his bones was a sensation of mental fogginess that was very close to sleep. The Lieutenant, sitting directly in front of him, was nodding. Everybody was getting sleepy. Why? Had some subtle, odorous gasp and introduced into the room? What gas? Who had introduced it? Crash! The rifle in the hands of the nodding soldier slid out of his grasp and struck the floor, exploding as it hit. The slug ripped a hole through the wall, passing within a foot of the Lieutenant's head. The Asian officer was instantly on his feet. He spun to face the sound. The soldier who had dropped the rifle slid forward on the floor and laid there snoring. As he saw what had happened, the face of the Lieutenant settled into a grim mask. He pressed the trigger of the automatic weapon he carried. The gun burped violently. The sleeping soldier jerked as the heavy slugs crashed into his body. A little trickle of blood ran from his nose and collected in a small pool on the floor. The man died where he lay. He and Totem gave us, the Lieutenant snarled. Two of the soldiers left their position against the wall and lifted the body of their dead comrade. The third remained motionless against the wall while they carried the dead man out. If you go to sleep on me, the Lieutenant said to the third soldier. His meaning was clear. The soldier shook his head. He understood what his officer meant. Terror was in him. But something else was in him, too. Zen watched the soldier fight this something else. Slowly he let the butt of his rifle slide to the floor. He had enough intelligence and enough strength left not to drop the weapon. He sat it against the wall. Then he sat down beside it. He was making every possible effort to resist sleep, but in spite of everything he could do he was losing this fight. Slowly, a fraction of an inch at a time, his head slid forward. Finally it dropped on his arms that were folded across his knees. He began snoring. The face of the Lieutenant was that of a frightened tiger from the depths of the Assam jungles. The muzzle of the gun swung to cover the sleeping soldier. A split second passed during which this Asian was on the verge of joining his ancestors. Realizing finally that this man could not be held accountable for his inability to stay awake, the Lieutenant held his fire. He jerked up his head to stare around the room. His face was that of a tiger who suspects it has been caught in a trap but is not yet certain of the nature of the device it has been snared in. His eyes came to focus on Cal. Cal. I—I swear! The ragged man's voice was a thick mutter that did not convey much meaning. Cal was sleepy too. What have you done here? I—nothing. I have done nothing. And I know nothing. I am as surprised as you. You're a liar. No. Telling truth. Cal's head had sagged downward toward his chest and his voice was getting thicker and more groggy. With an effort of will he snapped his head up. I—don't know. Something. Yes. Never heard of anything like it before. Hell, Lieutenant, it's getting me too. Cal's head sagged forward on his chest. So sleepy. So tired. Gotta take a nap. His knees sagging, Cal laid down on the floor. He cuddled his head on one arm. The Lieutenant spoke, but the grunt that came from his lips was not a growl. Soon he too was fast asleep. Kurt and Nedra were the only two people who were able to remain awake. The nurse was making desperate efforts to resist this strange sleepiness. Swaying on her feet, she turned toward Zen. He caught her in his arms. What's happening? She sounded like a tired little girl. I don't know, Zen answered. Why is everybody going to sleep? Is it bedtime? It must be. Are you sleepy too? Her voice was a tired whisper. I never was so sleepy before in my life, Kurt answered. Then why don't we just take a little nap? Nedra murmured. The way she spoke, this was the most reasonable suggestion that had ever been offered. Saging into his arms she would have fallen if he had not caught her. Gently he eased her to the floor. Her chest rose and fell in a regular rhythm. If there was one thing Kurt wanted to do, it was to lie down on the floor and go to sleep too. Every organ in his body, every cell, every molecule seemed to cry out that sleep was needed. He felt his knees begin to sag, his head to droop. It seemed to him that all strength was going out of his body, that his muscles could no longer hold him erect. Stay awake! Someone snarled at him. He was startled to realise it was his own voice that had spoken the words. He was even more startled by the fury in the tones. His knees continued to sag. In spite of everything he could do to prevent it, his body continued on its way to the floor. The muscles in his long legs seemed to have turned into rubber. He went down to his knees, but caught himself on his hands. The impulse to continue the rest of the way to the floor was like a tidal wave. Every thought in his mind was on the desirability of sleep. How wonderful it would be to take a nap, to rest, to dream, to wake no more. With a strength that was born of desperation he fought this impulse. A battle began inside his body, a conflict that seemed to involve every brain cell and every nerve ending, and finally every muscle group. Pain came up as muscle fought muscle, as nerve cell fought nerve cell, as one part of the brain fought another part. He tried to force his body to rise to its feet again. All he could do was grunt. Stand up! He snarled at himself. His body quivered and twisted, but did not move. He repeated the command to himself. The effect was to increase the conflict and the pain. He had never known such agony. It rolled through him like a series of tidal waves. CLICK What happened took place so suddenly that it seemed to occur outside of time. END OF CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN OF DOOM'S DAY EV By Robert Moore Williams This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. DOOM'S DAY EV CHAPTER SEVEN Instantly, as the click sounded, he was outside his body, looking down at it. The pain was gone. The conflicting muscle-pulls were gone, or he was no longer aware of them. He understood that the latter was the true explanation. Stand up! He said to his body. His body obeyed this order. It rose from its hands and knees and stood upon its feet. This fact did not surprise Kurt Zen. He had known it would happen. This was the way things were. The essence of him, the consciousness that was above the body, was never surprised. Stop trembling, he said, silently to his body. Instantly the tremors vanished. The body knew its master. Kurt Zen also knew that he now had a choice. He could go back into that body, or he could go elsewhere. But he knew where he was needed most. CLICK The way he went back into his body was like turning on a switch. One instant he was inside, looking through his eyes, hearing through his ears. He moved quickly, snatching the gun from the lieutenant's grasp. Another instant, and he had the weapons of the soldiers. He flung these into the corner. Then he grabbed Cal's gun from the floor where the ragged man had dropped it. At this point he saw that Nedra was sitting up and was watching him. The expression on her face was that of a sleepy small girl awakening in the morning. Only this small girl did not quite succeed in looking as if she had been asleep. Her eyes were too wide open and she looked much too alert. Hello, Zen said. So you decided to call off the sham. The thought popped into his mind and the words out of his mouth before he could stop them. Did you know, she gasped. Of course I did, Zen stoutly insisted. When you went to sleep, I knew it was a trick designed to learn me by suggestion into the belief that I was sleepy too. Then why did you let me do it? I wanted to see how far you would go, he answered. Come on, let's get out of here. What about them? Are they shamming too? She pointed to the bodies on the floor. There up there, watching, he said, gesturing toward the ceiling. He laughed. Oldishly, she stared at him. I do believe you are out of your mind, Colonel. It helps, he said. Come on, let's make tracks. That's a splendid idea, Colonel, except for one thing. What's that? She pointed to the sleeping lieutenant. He said he had left some men with a machine gun. Damn, I had forgotten that. However, that is a problem that can be solved. How? This way. He moved to the heavy machine gun mounted at the window so that its muzzle covered the street. He had his finger on the trigger and was searching the street when he realized that she was pulling at his arm and speaking to him. What, he said. No, she answered. Her voice was very firm. Are you out of your mind, he demanded? We don't have to shoot them, she replied. Why not? Because they are already taken care of. Eh, how do you know? I know. Then you also know how these men here were put to sleep? His voice had the sound of steel on stone. She faced him without fear. Yes. You did it? No. Then who did? Come, and I will show you. Ha! Xen grunted. He made up his mind without hesitation. Starting toward the back door, he discovered that she was going out the front. But that door is probably covered, he protested. She opened it without answering his protest. Going through it, Xen thought the night outside was far colder than it had any right to be. Ned removed without hesitation. Fifty yards away from the house, a machine gun mounted on a tripod was set up in the street. Two men were lying on the ground beside it. In the quiet night, Xen could hear them snoring. All right, he said. I have to admit you knew what you were talking about. But if you didn't do this, who did? Just a minute, and you will have an answer to your question, she replied. A block beyond the machine gun, a tall figure lounged in the doorway of a ruined building. Hi, kids, he said. At the first sound of the deep bass voice, Xen knew that this was West. The cranky man nodded to him. West did not seem in the least surprised to see Xen. What the hell are you doing here? Xen said. Xen said. I had business here, West said, in a tone of voice that made Xen feel like an errant schoolboy being reproved by a kind but firm teacher. Did you make those people go to sleep? Xen continued. Has somebody been sleeping? West answered. Yes, Xen said. Did you run into some difficulty? West asked Nedra. She ignored Xen. Sort of, the girl answered. The fact is, I almost got raped. I was afraid I wasn't going to reach you. I was busy and didn't pick you up at first, the cranky man said. His voice was a rumble of sound in the darkness. He did not seem surprised when she mentioned what had almost happened. The Colonel followed you, eh? Yes, I told you he would. How did you know I would follow you? Xen demanded. With the Lieutenant's gun in his hands, he felt very secure. Any woman would know that, Nedra answered. Her laugh tinkled in the darkness. Finding Xen's arm, she squeezed it. He is one of the new people, she said to West. Xen wished he could have sunk into the ground. The cranky man did not seem surprised. Hmm, he said again. That is nice. Reserves seem to have appeared in the base tones. Let's get inside, Nedra suggested. It's been a hard day, and I'm so tired, I feel as if I'm walking on my leg bones instead of my feet. Sorry, West said, without moving. What's wrong, Nedra asked. Alarm suddenly appeared in her voice. Don't you believe he is actually one of us? I told you he was. I did not say I disbelieve you. But what if you are mistaken? I can't be mistaken. He followed me, didn't he? That proves I'm right. Men have been following women since Boomi started turning, West replied. What if you are wrong? Oh, the nurse said, a falling inflection in her voice. In that case, who would shoot him? West continued. Oh, the nurse said. Her voice fell lower still. You know the rules. We cannot have anyone except true mutants. Yes. In case someone brings in a person who is not a true mutant, it is the duty of the person who introduced the interloper to dispose of him. I know, Nedra said. In this case, it would be up to you to shoot the colonel. West continued. Could you do it? Well, I wouldn't want to. The reluctance in her voice was very strong. But I would do it. I hope I don't have to hold you to your promise, West said. But in that case, come on, both of you. That is, if the colonel wishes. You can't kid me, Zen said. Neither of you are capable of shooting anybody. He spoke fearlessly, but he felt a trace of the doubt. Not one of the new people had ever betrayed their group. This indicated something. Lead on. I'm following. Nedra found Zen's arm. Would you cry after you had shot me? Zen asked. Yes. But that wouldn't keep you from shooting me. No. Well, that would be nice anyhow, though I do not see what good it would do me. You sound as if you wouldn't care, the girl said. There are times when I am sure death would be a blessed relief, Zen meant every word he said. That life down there, he jerked his thumb to indicate the lower ranges and the plain so far below, gets tiresome. That's an understatement, if I ever made one. The nurse was silent. Yes, I understand, she said at last. It was that way with me once. How much farther before we get to... Hell, where are we going anyhow? Zen blurted out. To the center here, Nedra answered. Um, Zen said. He wanted to say something else, but he decided he better be careful. West led them into an old tunnel which bored straight into the side of the mountain. End of Chapter 7