A small hum stirred at the back of the darkness, a glimmer of sound,
like a faint ray of silver white light in an area of great stillness.
Somehow sound and light had gotten themselves mixed up together, so
that one was difficult to distinguish from the other. But this was
sound and it had started with a humming smallness and grown shrill. It
screamed in Marc's head so that he had to open his eyes to let it out.
A great brightness rushed forward, stabbing at his eyes, thrusting deep
into the nerve centers at the back of his head. He blinked painfully
and looked away, but the light came at him again, nervous light
that moved toward him, then away, but always in the same direction,
jittering along with small, irregular spurts.
Marc was aware that he was lying on his back, and there was a sharp
pain in his shoulder. It didn't make sense. The last he could remember
was the night drawing him upward, squeezing the breath and the life out
of him. He lay back and gave himself over to the effort of breathing.
And then a voice spoke close by, irritably.
"Of all the perfectly insane places to wind up, this snags the prize!"
There was no question that the voice was Toffee's. Marc glanced around,
then up. The redhead was standing over him, an evil glint in her eyes.
"Toffee!" he said.
"Of course," Toffee said. "Who'd you think? Who else would be silly
enough to sit up here in this ridiculous place with you?"
"What place?" Marc asked. "Where are we?"
"What place?" Toffee said. "We're back in the city. In fact we're
right smack in the center of the city." She waved a hand at the
jittering lights that were still skittering along behind her. "That,"
she announced amusedly, "is the news sign on the face of the Dispatch
building. You know, the one that has the lights that spell out words
and keeps moving all the time? We're on the ledge right in front of it.
And a fine spectacle we make, too, I imagine."
"My gosh!" Marc exclaimed. He sat up. Now that Toffee had told him he
could see that the jittering lights did spell out letters as they moved
along.
"In fact," Toffee said, "talking about being in the news, the story of
the explosion is coming through right now. She turned to the sign and
paused to read:
MYSTERY EXPLOSION LAYS WASTE SEVERAL MILES OF PASTURE NEAR CITY ...
WRECKAGE ... VEGETATION ... EVERYTHING CHANGED TO BE BUOYANT....
PILLSWORTH FORMULA BELIEVED TO HAVE PROVIDED BASIC EXPLOSIVE
Then suddenly a meaningless jumble of lights burst forth upon the
atmosphere. It appeared that the sign had been surprised into a fit of
exclamatory stuttering. Then the words began to come again.
PILLSWORTH AND UNIDENTIFIED GIRL SIGHTED HERE ON NORTH WEST LEDGE
OF BUILDING ... POLICE AND FIRE EQUIPMENT PREPARING RESCUE.
"Thank heavens," Toffee said. "We're not going to grow old together
up here after all." She moved away from Marc and to the brink of the
ledge. As Marc followed her progress he noticed for the first time that
it was still night, but as his gaze moved toward the horizon he saw a
growing margin of dawn.
"Golly!" Toffee said happily. "You should see all the people down
there! And there are some men with a big ladder on a truck. We'll be
down from here in no time at all." She patted her drooping butterflies
into place. "They've got a search light on the man who's climbing up.
He's terribly big. Why don't you stand up and let me lie down for a
while? I'd look more helpless."
"Any time you look helpless," Marc said, "I want to see it."
"That may be," Toffee said, "but don't be surprised if I faint
gracefully at the proper moment."
Marc moved closer to the ledge. "I wonder if Julie's down there?" he
murmured. But even as he said it, he knew she wouldn't be.
* * * * *
At the bottom of the ladder Marc and Toffee were promptly greeted by
the two government men, ushered without delay to a limousine, whisked
across the city to a large grey building, and taken to an office with
large comfortable furniture and sound-proofed walls. While a male
secretary wrote it all down, Marc and Toffee tiredly narrated their
experiences at the hands of the Blemishes.
"It was dreadful," Toffee said, eyeing the secretary. "I feel faint."
The more talkative of the two government men told them the rest of the
story from where they left off.
"There wasn't anything left by the time we got there," he said. "Even
the grass was uprooting itself out of the ground and drifting up into
space. There was no sign of the Blemish brothers, of course. Definitely
criminally insane!"
Marc gazed out the window at the city stretching up around them, and
was taken with a tremor of horror.
"There's just one thing puzzling me, Mr. Pillsworth," the government
man said. "How is it that you returned to earth? Will all the debris
finally return to earth in a few days?"
Marc gazed at them blankly. He had been wondering the same thing
himself. He passed a trembling hand over his eyes and shook his head.
"I know," Toffee said mildly. All eyes turned curiously in her
direction. She smiled blandly. "You see," she said, charmed with the
idea of having so much male attention all at once, "you see, being
rather a creature of nature ... but I don't suppose you gentlemen would
understand that ... just let it go that I have a special understanding
of natural causes and effects that do not occur in the ordinary human
being." She nodded toward Marc. "It was the double dosage that brought
him back. The original treatment made him give off the impulses which
caused him to be buoyant, but the second one, instead of increasing
his buoyancy, merely counteracted it. It was a matter of a war between
impulses of equal strength and pull. The ones moving outward were met
by the ones forcing their way inward. It was what might be called a
condition of impasse. Eventually, the two exhausted each other, and so
he returned to earth." She smiled beguilingly. "Is that all perfectly
clear?"
The government man whistled shrilly and glanced at the ceiling. "If you
say so," he muttered.
"Of course," Toffee went on, "the thing that really saved his life
was the fact that, in being buoyant, he drifted far enough away from
the explosion so that the impulses that reached him were in exact
proportion to those he was giving off. It wouldn't happen again in a
million years."
* * * * *
The government man gazed at her from the corner of his eyes. "No," he
said. "I'm sure it wouldn't." He turned to the secretary. "I hope you
got all that on paper."
The young man shook his head. "I was too fascinated," he said. Even as
he spoke, his eyes did not leave Toffee's well crossed leg.
The government man cleared his throat.
"Well, anyway, everything is all right now," he said.
He turned to Marc, who was showing increasing evidence of complete
collapse. "I hate to do this," he said, "but I'm afraid we'll have to
ask you for another favor. This incident, along with the one of the
monument and all the attention in the newspapers, has caused a national
panic. The people are threatening to do all sorts of things. There have
already been several suicides. Anyway, we have to reassure the public
at large that your formula is in our hands and safe. The best way to do
this, we've decided, is in a public presentation; if the people can see
you handing your formula over to us with their own eyes, then they'll
have to believe it. It's not the orthodox procedure in such matters, of
course, but this is an extreme situation and calls for extreme measures.
"Anyway, we'd like you to go with us to the stadium this afternoon and
publicly present your formula to the chief. Every precaution will be
taken and you'll have the very best of protection. Will you do it?"
Marc, too far gone for words, merely nodded. He could hold off sleep no
longer.
"Fine!" the government man said, and got up. The others followed. "Then
we'll leave you here to rest and will call for you at four o'clock.
And, you, young lady...?"
The man stopped, stared, turned to his companions. "Where did she go?"
he asked in a whisper. "What happened to her?"
"Gosh, I don't know," the secretary said. "But I wish she'd taken me
along!"
In hushed bewilderment the men went to the door and quietly left the
room. After they had gone, there was only the sound of Marc's exhausted
breathing which bore the promise of a good healthy snore.
* * * * *
For a long time Marc lay immersed in the unbroken blackness of complete
sleep. And then the darkness lifted, gradually, and a soft light began
to glow around him. He gazed up at a sky of unbroken blue, and somehow
his spirit lightened. He sat up and looked around. He knew instantly,
by the gentle misted slopes and the strange trees, that he had returned
to the valley of his mind. He looked around expectantly.
It happened just as he had known it would, on the nearest rise. The
mists swirled aside and a shapely leg appeared, leading quickly after
it another of its kind and a perfectly formed body. Toffee smiled as
she ran toward him.
"I knew you'd turn up sooner or later, you old wretch!" she cried
happily. She dropped to the grass beside him. Marc noticed that she
once more was wearing the negligible green tunic that she'd had on the
first time he'd dreamed of her.
"I wonder how I got back here," Marc said.
"Who cares?" Toffee said happily. "Let's take advantage of it. What's
more private than your own thoughts?"
"Now, just a second...."
"Still the same old prude," Toffee said. Then she giggled. "We
certainly took the four bit tour through the mill, didn't we?"
"I don't like to think about it," Marc said grimly. "I wish it hadn't
happened."
"Nonsense," Toffee said. "You needed trouble and a good adventure.
That's what was wrong with you and your life. That's why you dreamed
me up. A good upheaval does anybody a lot of good. Even a bottle of
medicine has to have a good shaking to be worth anything. That's why it
all happened."
"I wonder about Julie," Marc said darkly. "I wonder if she's...?"
"Wait and see," Toffee said. "Don't rush things." A reminiscent look
came into her eyes as she gazed off into the distance across the
valley. Suddenly she was taken with a fit of laughter.
"What is it?" Marc asked.
"George," Toffee said. "I wonder where he is now." She began to laugh
again. "I had a glimpse of his face just before he took off. He was the
most surprised ghost that ever moaned at midnight."
"Poor George," Marc said. "I suppose he didn't have a very good time of
it. But then neither did any of the rest of us."
"Oh, well," Toffee said. "All that's over with now." She shifted closer
to Marc. "Let's get down to the important stuff."
"Hey! Wait a min...?" Marc cried.
But too late. Toffee had already twined her arms about his neck and was
kissing him. Finally, she let him go.
"You never change, do you?" Marc said shortly.
"Never," Toffee said. "Isn't it delightful? I know a game that's fun.
We take turns...."
"No!" Marc said. "No games!"
"Well, all right," Toffee sighed. "Then I guess we'll just have to go
on necking." She made a second dive at him.
"Help!" Marc yelled. "Help!"
Then suddenly both of them froze where they were. The valley had begun
to tremble and the darkness was descending rapidly.
"You'll have to go now," Toffee said.
"I know," Marc said. For a moment he just looked at her, hesitant. Then
quickly, he leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips.
"Thanks," he said. "Thanks for everything."
Toffee smiled gently. "Oh, hell," she said grandly, "that's all right.
Just call on me any time."
"Goodbye," Marc said, almost wistfully. "Goodbye, Toffee!"
"So long," Toffee whispered. "Happy landings."
And the little valley fell into darkness.
* * * * *
Marc opened his eyes, fighting the pressure of sleep that still
weighted his consciousness. The government man's face, like an
affidavit of official duty, appeared over him. Marc struggled to a
sitting position and tried to shake the sleep out of his mind with a
toss of his head.
"When we were driving over, you asked me to find out about your wife,"
the man said.
Marc nodded hopefully.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Pillsworth. We haven't been able to reach her. Either
here or in Reno. They're still trying, however, and they'll locate her
before long, I'm certain." He glanced at his watch. "It's three forty
five; we'd better be going to the stadium."
Wearily, Marc got to his feet. He dreaded the affair at the stadium;
there was nothing he wanted to do more than start out looking for
Julie. Even as tired as he was. It didn't matter where or how, just so
long as he was looking for her ... doing something to find her....
"We'd better go," the man said uneasily.
Marc sighed and followed him to the door.
* * * * *
Entering into the center of the stadium, Marc glanced cursorily at the
wave upon wave of faces that rippled down the sides of the bleachers.
He walked in the center of a group of silent, armed men, the government
man at his side. Planes droned overhead, providing a protective
barricade, even in the sky. They walked to a platform in the center of
the field and mounted it. The government man led him to a seat and then
took his place beside him. Marc glanced around.
The platform was fairly bulging with important persons, politically
speaking. Every faction and party had apparently done its utmost to
get into the act. Most of the men sat in solemn silence, as though in
attendance at a funeral. Marc guessed that this was to impress the
gathering public with the immense gravity of the occasion. When a band
played the anthem, Marc could barely get to his feet, but he managed
it with a great effort.
"This won't take too long," the man from the government whispered as
they sat down again. "The President was delayed in arriving, so the
Chief will say a few words of explanation, and then you step forward
and hand him the formula. You can leave after that if you like."
Marc nodded. It did take too long; the Chief turned out to be a large
thick-necked man with a ruddy face and unlimited lung power. He
explained about the formula and its power, and assured everyone that
it was not in foreign hands and that the two persons who had seen it,
besides the inventor, of course, had destroyed themselves in its use.
The rest was largely political. Everyone yawned quietly, with the
possible exception of the Chief's wife.
Marc turned his thoughts toward the sky and a cloud that drifted lazily
overhead. It was natural enough that his thoughts turned briefly to
George, and the fate of that erstwhile haunt. He gazed far into the
heavens, though it was difficult to think of George in the upper
regions, even though he had been headed in that direction when last
seen. Marc could not imagine to what kind of place in the universe
George had returned.
* * * * *
Far beyond the cloud that Marc watched, George sat rigidly upright on a
hard piece of atmosphere and shifted uneasily. He glanced at the entity
next to him and grinned wryly.
"I'm glad I don't have to go in first," he said glumly.
"What are you up for?" the other entity asked. "When you get to the
supreme Council it must be bad."
"Disorderly conduct," George said, "and attempt at falsifying the fate
of a mortal down on Earth."
"That's bad," the other said.
"Yeah," George said, "but what gets me down is how they recalled me.
They planned it all without letting me know. I tell you it was a
nasty jolt to my nervous system when I found out that damned catapult
had been aimed right smack at the chambers of the High Council. They
probably will banish me to hard labor on one of the planets. You know,
digging out those craters for the mortals to stare at through their
silly spy glasses. It was a terrible shock."
"How was it on earth?" The other shifted eagerly.
"Well ..." George answered, and a reminiscent look came into his eyes,
"there was this little redhead, see...." He smiled secretly, and gazed
off into the distance. "I guess," he continued, as though to himself,
"on the whole, I'd say it was worth it...."
* * * * *
"Mr. Pillsworth!"
Marc awoke from his reverie and turned around. The government man had
taken hold of his sleeve.
"Now you give him your formula."
Marc glanced quickly toward the podium where the Chief was staring back
at him expectantly. Stiffly, he rose from his chair and moved forward.
The Chief turned back to the audience.
"Ladies and Gentlemen!" he announced dramatically. "The Pillsworth
Formula!"
Suddenly the heavens echoed with a cry from several thousand throats
that was almost terrifying in its magnitude. Marc reached into his
inside coat pocket, felt for the little black book and found it.
Quickly he slipped the pen clasp free and withdrew the book. Then,
strangely, he hesitated. Suddenly he wondered if this was the right
thing to do. At any rate, it was much too late now. The sooner he
handed over the formula, the sooner he could leave and start looking
for Julie. He drew his hand from inside his coat and held the book out
to the Chief.
* * * * *
It was then that the whole affair took on a new and more sensational
aspect than even the politicians on the platform had dared hope for.
The Chief in reaching out for the book, neglected to extend his hand
far enough, and Marc, thinking that he had taken hold of it, let go
of it. Suddenly the book began to fall. But only for an instant.
Describing a small loop in mid air, it only started down, before it
shot upward. Before anyone realized, or even believed, for that matter,
what was happening, the little book had risen high beyond the Chief's
grasp and gone soaring rapidly toward the heavens. The cry in the
thousands of throats became a gasp of horror.
Marc stood dumbly staring at the black dot in the sky, as it grew
smaller and smaller, even in the space of a heart beat. He felt awful
in the first moment, and then, all at once, he was assailed with a
feeling of great relief. Suddenly, he realized that exactly the right
thing had happened to the book and the terrible formula. Smilingly, he
turned and looked at the disgruntled expressions about him. The Chief
was swiftly turning a lovely green color.
At once Marc realized that he had no further business with these
people, or they with him. The world had suddenly become a much brighter
and simpler place to live in. Without a word, he turned, walked down
the steps of the platform and started across the field toward the exit.
It was just as he neared the exit that the first cheer went up in the
stands, and before he got to it, the stadium was screaming from end to
end. There was no question that the disposal of the formula had been
a great relief to everyone. Marc turned, smiled his agreement to the
crowd, and disappeared beneath the stands. Just as he started into the
shadows, he saw the figure waiting at the outer doorway.
"Julie!" he cried.
She ran toward him, and there were tears in her eyes. Even before she
reached him she had begun to talk.
"I was on my way to Reno," she sobbed. "I felt so awful I didn't look
at the papers or listen to the radio ... and then I saw a newspaper in
the dining car ... with your picture on it ... I thought I'd go out of
my mind ... I left the train ... but there weren't any planes because
of the weather ... and ... and ... I just got back...."
Marc just stood staring at her, too happy, too warm inside to speak.
"Please forgive me," Julie said. "I'll give up the clubs ...
and ... and everything.... You won't have to spend your time in the
basement.... I'll even forget about the redhead, if you'll just take me
back.... I thought you were dead!... You will take me back, won't you?
Please Marc!"
Marc nodded dumbly.
"Oh, thank you, darling!" Julie smiled. "Thank you!"
Marc took her in his arms and drew her close to him.
"Oh, hell," he grinned, "that's all right. Just call on me any...."
Then suddenly he stopped. He wondered vaguely if he hadn't heard
someone else say that before....
THE END