My nerves throbbed with the prickling of an infinity of needles. I was
cold--colder than I had ever been. And over everything else came the
insistent, blurred voice of Luigi Zorchi.
"Weels! Weels!"
At first it was an annoyance. Then, abruptly, full consciousness came
rushing back, bringing some measure of triumph with it. It had worked!
My needling of Defoe and my concealing of Zorchi's ability to revive
himself had succeeded in getting us all put into Bay 100, where the
precious hypodermic and fluid were hidden. After being pushed from
pillar to post and back, even that much success was enough to shock me
into awareness.
My heart was thumping like a rusty cargo steamer in a high sea. My
lungs ached for air and burned when they got it. But I managed to
open my eyes to see Zorchi bending over me. Beyond him, I saw the
blue-lighted sterilizing lamps, the door that opened from inside, and
the racked suspendees of Bay 100.
"It is time! But now finally you awake, you move!" Zorchi grumbled.
"The body of Zorchi does not surrender to poisons; it throws them
off. But then because of these small weak legs, I must wait for you!
Come, Weels, no more dallying! We have still work to do to escape this
abomination!"
I sat up clumsily, but the drugs seemed to have been neutralized. I was
on the bottom tier, and I managed to locate the floor with my legs and
stand up. "Thanks, Zorchi," I told him, trying to avoid looking at his
ugly, naked body and the things that were almost his legs.
"Thanks are due," he admitted. "I am a modest man who expects no
praise, but I have done much. I cannot deny it. It took greatness to
crawl through this bay to find you. On my hands and these baby knees,
Weels, I crawled. Almost. I am overcome with wonder at so heroic--But
I digress. Weels, waste no more time in talking. We must revive the
others who are above my reach. Then let us, for God, go and find food."
Somehow, though I was still weak, I managed to follow Zorchi and drag
down the sacks containing Rena and Carmody. And while waiting for them
to revive, I began to realize how little chance we would have to escape
this time, naked and uncertain of what state affairs were in. I also
realized what might happen if Lawton or Defoe decided to check up on
Bay 100 now!
For the few minutes while Rena revived and recognized me, and while I
explained how I'd figured it out, it was worth any risk. Then finally,
Carmody stirred and sat up. Maybe we looked enough like devils in a
blue hell to justify his first expression.
* * * * *
He wasn't much like my mental image of the great Millen Carmody. His
face was like his picture, but it was an older face and haggard under
the ugly light. Age was heavy on him, and he couldn't have been a noble
figure at any time. Now he was a pot-bellied little man with scrawny
legs and a faint tremble to his hands.
But there was no fat in his mind as he tried to absorb our explanations
while he answered our questions in turn. He'd come to Naples, bringing
his personal physician, Dr. Lawton. His last memory was of Lawton
giving him a shot to relieve his indigestion.
It must have been rough to wake up here after that and find what a
mess had been made of the world. But he took it, and his questions
became sharper as he groped for the truth. Finally he sat back, nodding
sickly. "Defoe!" he said bitterly. "Well, what do we do now, Mr.
Wills?"
It shook me. I'd unconsciously expected him to take over at once. But
the eyes of Rena and Zorchi also turned to me. Well, there wasn't much
choice. We couldn't stay here and risk discovery. Nor could we hide
anywhere in the clinic; when Defoe found us gone, no place would be
safe.
"We pray," I decided. "And if prayers help, maybe we'll find some way
out."
"I can help," Carmody offered. He grimaced. "I know this place and
the combination to the private doors. Would it help if we reached the
garage?"
I didn't know, but the garage was half a mile beyond the main entrance.
If we could steal a car, we might make it. We had to try.
There were sounds of activity when we opened the door, but the section
we were in seemed to be filled, and the storing of suspendees had moved
elsewhere.
We shut and relocked the door and followed Carmody through the
seemingly endless corridors, with Zorchi hobbling along, leaning on
Rena and me and sweating in agony. We offered to carry him, but he
would have none of that. We moved further and further back, while the
sight of Carmody's round, bare bottom ahead ripped my feeling of awe
for him into smaller and smaller shreds.
He stopped at a door I had almost missed and his fingers tapped out
something on what looked like an ornamental pattern. The door opened
to reveal stairs that led down two flights, winding around a small
elevator shaft. At the bottom was a long corridor that must be the one
leading underground to the garage. Opposite the elevator was another
door, and Carmody worked its combination to reveal a storeroom, loaded
with supplies the expediters might need.
He ripped a suit of the heavy gray coveralls off the wall and began
donning them. "Radiation suits," he explained. They were ugly things,
but better than nothing. Anyone seeing us in them might think we were
on official business. Zorchi shook off our help and somehow got into
a pair. Then he grunted and began pulling hard-pellet rifles and
bandoliers of ammunition off the wall.
* * * * *
"Now, Weels, we are prepared. Let them come against us. Zorchi is
ready!"
"Ready to kill yourself!" I said roughly. "Those things take practice!"
"And again I am the freak--the case who can do nothing that humans can
do, eh, Weels?" He swore thickly, and there was something in his voice
that abruptly roughened it. "Never Zorchi the man! There are Sicilians
who would tell you different, could they open dead mouths to speak of
their downed planes!"
"He was the best jet pilot Naples had," Rena said quietly.
It was my turn to curse. He was right; I hadn't thought of him as
a man, or considered that he could do anything but regrow damaged
tissues. "I'm sorry, Luigi!"
"No matter." He sighed, and then shrugged. "Come, take arms and
ammunition and let us be out of this place. Even the nose of Zorchi can
stand only so much of the smell of assassins!"
We moved down the passage, staggering along for what seemed to be
hours, expecting every second to run into some official or expediter
force. But apparently the passage wasn't being used much during the
emergency. We finally reached stairs at the other end and headed up,
afraid to attract attention by taking the waiting elevator.
At the top, Carmody frowned as he studied the side passages and doors.
"Here, I guess," he decided. "This may still be a less used part of the
garage." He reached for the door.