A Night of Terror
Irene’s reply was hurried. “We’re _here_. Come on, Judy! Wake up!”
“I am awake. What happened to all the golden-haired people? They were
suffocating me. They—”
“Come _on_!” Irene interrupted, pulling Judy to her feet just as the
train lurched to a stop. People began to get off. Judy saw now that they
were all kinds of people—men, women, even a drowsy child on one man’s
shoulder. The hair that showed below their hats was black, brown,
straight and curly. Their faces were no longer blank. Each had its own
individuality. Dark faces, fair faces—how beautiful they suddenly were,
and how different!
“I dreamed,” Judy managed to say, “that they were all alike. It was a
terrible, a frightening dream. I never have nightmares, especially on
trains. What happened?”
“Nothing,” Irene replied, laughing, “but something will if we don’t
hurry. The train will take us past our station. I was asleep, too. We
nearly missed it. Wait!” she called to the conductor.
“You getting off here?” he inquired. “Hurry up. I’ll hold the train.”
It started again with a jolt almost as soon as Judy and Irene stepped
down to the platform.
“That was close. People have been killed getting off moving trains,”
Irene said with a shudder.
Bewildered, Judy looked around her. “Isn’t anybody going to meet us?”
she inquired.
“Dale didn’t know which train we were going to take. We’ll go home by
taxi,” Irene announced.
She hailed a cab that was just about to pull away from the station. She
and Judy were crowded in along with other passengers who lived in the
same suburban town. Again Judy had that elated sense of being glad—glad
that they were different.
“How terrible it would be if we were all alike,” she said to Irene as
they huddled together in the crowded taxi. “Our faces, our hair, our
thoughts—everything. Would you like it if everyone in the whole world
had golden hair and a face like yours?”
“I’d hate it,” Irene replied. “It’s bad enough when I buy a dress and
find out someone else has one like it. Why do you ask such a question?”
“It was that way in my dream. I told you—”
“I wasn’t listening. You’ll have to tell me again when we’re home. After
all, it was only a dream.”
“Was it?”
“What do you think it was?” Irene inquired.
“A prophecy, maybe. People used to have prophetic visions. Maybe, some
time in the future—”
The cab stopped to let two of the passengers out. Irene lived in a
beautiful neighborhood. The houses, like the people who lived in them,
were all different. Behind them were tall trees, outlined against the
night sky, and a brook that reminded Judy of Dry Brook at home. An
innocent brook and yet, when it had poured its flood waters into the
pond above the Roulsville dam ... Judy shuddered at the memory.
“Horace dreamed the dam would break—and it did!” she said suddenly. “I
can still hear the roar and feel the horror—before I knew the people
would be saved. Irene, there could be another flood—”
“What flood?”
“A flood of advertising. Don’t laugh. Flo asked me to talk you into
accepting that offer—”
“There’s no need,” Irene broke in. “I’ve already decided. Flo’s right.
It’s silly of me to feel the way I do about commercials. If I can get a
sponsor there’s no reason why I shouldn’t be on the big network. Dale
thinks I should. There he is at the window motioning for us to hurry,”
Irene observed as the cab stopped to let them out. “Oh, I do hope little
Judy is all right. There’s a light in her room.”
There were lights all over the house. Dale’s anxious face told Judy that
something was wrong. He started to say something to her, but Irene broke
in.
“It’s little Judy. I know it.”
Saying this, she hurried into the baby’s room with Judy close behind
her. Little Judy was awake. Apparently she had reached over and turned
on the light by herself.
“I heard Daddy on the tefelone,” she announced solemnly. Then, with a
little jump, she landed in Irene’s arms and began to hug her. Judy could
see that she was perfectly all right. But something was wrong. She could
feel it.
“You comed out of the TV. I saw you, Mommy,” the baby continued her
chatter. “I saw the bad witch, too. She _skeered_ me!”
“Did she, lamb? I’m so sorry.”
“Oh, that’s all right, Mommy. I like to be skeered.”
“Were you thinking about the witch? Is that why you couldn’t go to
sleep?” asked Judy.
“I did sleep. Daddy woke me up. He was talking on the tefelone.”
“Don’t you love the way she says _telephone_?” Irene exclaimed, hugging
little Judy again. “I was so sure something had happened to her, but if
it was just the telephone—”
“Maybe Peter called up. We didn’t give Dale a chance to tell us—”
Dale, in the doorway, interrupted Judy.
“It was the hospital. I tried to call you, but you had already left the
theater. We can be thankful it isn’t any worse—”
“What isn’t?” asked Judy. “Why did the hospital call? What hospital was
it?”
Dale mentioned the name of the hospital.
“Judy, isn’t that where you said they took that red-headed woman?” Irene
questioned.
“Yes, but they wouldn’t call Dale about her. She’s a stranger. If
someone we know was hurt. If Peter—”
“It _is_ Peter. I tried to break the news gently,” Dale said in so grave
a tone that Judy found herself staring at him in silent terror.
“Dale, what has happened?” she cried when she could find her voice. “Why
is he in the hospital? What are they going to do to him?”
“They’re going to operate—”
“But why? Why? Peter is never sick. He must be hurt. Was he—was he—” The
word wouldn’t come. Judy knew Peter’s work was dangerous. She knew, too,
that his latest assignment was one of his biggest. He couldn’t discuss
it, but he had said, just before he left, “Wish me luck, Angel. This is
something really big.”
To an FBI man, something big was usually a raid. Peter carried a gun but
seldom used it. “Criminals carry guns, too,” thought Judy. Aloud she
said, “Tell me the truth, Dale. Was Peter—shot?”
Dale nodded, adding quickly, “It could have been worse. They’re going to
operate to remove a bullet from his shoulder. There’s not much danger—”
“But there is a little. He came close to being killed, didn’t he? How
soon can I see him?” Judy questioned breathlessly.
“The hospital will call—”
“When? When?”
“When the operation is over. Meantime, why don’t you try and get a
little rest? You can stretch out here on the sofa, Judy, until the
telephone rings,” Dale suggested.
Judy shook her head. “I couldn’t sleep. I’m going back to New York—I
want to be at the hospital—”
“In the middle of the night?” Irene shook her head. “You’ll do Peter
more good if you’re not exhausted when you see him.”
This silenced Judy. She knew it would be better to try and get some rest
as Dale suggested. “I won’t sleep,” she told herself when Dale and Irene
had left her alone in the dimly lighted living room. She remembered
thinking the same thing just before she fell asleep on the train. The
sofa was long and low—like a train. Again she could hear the clanking
wheels as they rumbled out the words, “Dull, drab, dull, drab ...”
faster and faster. Once more she was crowded in, almost suffocated by
the throng of golden-haired people. She was looking for Peter. But she
could see nothing but blank faces topped by golden curls.
“Peter, where are you?” came the voiceless cry.
Judy awoke from her dream of terror to hear the telephone ringing. She
sprang toward it, half asleep, jerked the instrument from its resting
place, and asked breathlessly, “Is this the hospital? How is he?”
“It’s Honey.” The voice of Peter’s sister seemed to come from very far
away. “They called us, since they couldn’t reach you. How is he, Judy?
And how are you taking it? I couldn’t sleep. I just had to call and find
out how everything is.”
[Illustration: “Is this the hospital?” she asked breathlessly]
“Everything’s terrible,” wailed Judy. “I don’t know how Peter is. I
couldn’t find him in the parade of golden-haired, faceless people.
Honey, promise me!”
“I’ll promise anything,” came the sympathetic voice over the wire.
“Then promise—” Judy paused, trying to shake off the web of sleep that
seemed to be holding her prisoner. Then, to her own surprise and Honey’s
horror, she finished, “Promise me you won’t do anything to change the
color of your hair!”