"No. I knew that I wouldn't be able to slip you the antidote. The taste
is too strong. Later you'll be able to start taking the drug again.
That is, if you want to, after experiencing for a time what it is to
be normal. But not now. You have to keep your head clear. You have to
think of something to save us."
"But there's nothing to think of!" he shouted angrily. "I told you that
the drug doesn't affect the intelligence!"
"I still don't believe you. If you'd only exert yourself, use your
mind--"
He said savagely, "I'm not going to bother. Give me those marak
tablets."
She backed away from him. "I thought you might want them. I took no
chances. I threw them out."
"Out there?" A horrified and incredulous look was on his face. "You
mean that I'm stuck here without them? Louise, you fool, there's no
help for us! The other way, at least, we'd have died happy. But now--"
He stared out the window. The shadows were there in full force. Not
one now, but two, three--he counted half a dozen. It was almost as if
they knew that the end had come.
They had reason to be happy, he thought with despair. And perhaps--
he shrank back from the thought, but it forced itself into his
mind--perhaps, now that all happiness had gone, and wretchedness had
taken its place, he might as well end everything. There would be no
days to spend torturing himself in anticipation of a horrible death.