Pete kissed her, then held her away. "You're trembling. Anticipation,
pet?" He looked into her face and the grin faded. "Lorry, what is it?"
"Pete--Pete. I'm crazy. I've gone mad. Hold me."
He could have laughed, but he had looked closely into her eyes and he
was a doctor. He didn't laugh. "Tell me. Just stand here. I'll hang onto
you and you tell me."
"The babies--they've gone mad." She clung to him. "Not exactly that.
Something's taken them over. Something terrible. Oh, Pete! Nobody would
believe me."
"I believe the end result," he said, quietly. "That's what I'm for,
angel. When you shake like this I'll always believe. But I'll have to
know more. And I'll hunt for an answer."
"There isn't any answer, Pete. I _know_."
"We'll still look. Tell me more, first."
"There isn't any more." Her eyes widened as she stared into his with the
shock of a new thought. "Oh, Lord! One of them talked to me, but maybe
he--or it--won't talk to you. Then you'll never know for sure! You'll
think I'm ..."
"Stop it. Quit predicting what I'll do. Let's go to the nursery."
They went to the nursery and stayed there for three-quarters of an
hour. They left with the tinny laughter filling their minds--and the
last words of the monstrous entity.
"We'll say no more, of course. Perhaps even this incident has been
indiscreet. But it's in the form of a celebration. Never before has a
whole swarm gotten through. Only a single entity on rare occasions."
Pete leaned against the corridor wall and wiped his face with the sleeve
of his jacket. "We're the only ones who know," he said.
"Or ever will know." Lorry pushed back a lock of his curly hair. She
wanted to kiss him, but this didn't seem to be the place or the time.
"We can never tell anyone."
"We'd look foolish."
"We've got a horror on our hands and we can't pass it on."
"What are we going to do?" Lorry asked.
"I don't know. Let's recap a little. Got a cigarette?"
They went to the fire door and dragged long and deep on two from Lorry's
pack. "They'll be quiet from now on. No more talking--just baby
squalls."
"And thirty little assassins will go into thirty homes," Lorry said.
"All dressed in soft pink and blue, all filled with hatred. Waiting,
biding their time, growing more clever." She shuddered.
"The electric chair will get them all, eventually."
"But how many will they get in the meantime?"
Pete put his arms around her and drew her close and whispered into her
ear. "There's nothing we can do--nothing."
"We've got to do something." Lorry heard again the thin, brittle
laughter following her, taunting her.
"It was a bad dream. It didn't happen. We'll just have to sleep it off."
She put her cheek against his. The rising stubble of his beard scratched
her face. She was grateful for the rough touch of solid reality.
Pete said, "The shock will wear out of our minds. Time will pass. After
a while, we won't believe it ourselves."
"That's what I'm afraid of."
"It's got to be that way."
"We've got to do something."
Pete lowered his arm wearily. "Yeah--we've got to do something. Where
there's nothing that can be done. What are we--miracle workers?"
"We've got to do something."
"Sure--finish out the watch and then get some sleep."
* * * * *
Lorry awoke with the lowering sun in her window. It was a blood red sun.
She picked up the phone by her bedside. "Room 307 Resident's extension."
Pete answered drowsily. Lorry said, "Tell me--did I dream, or did it
really happen."
"I was going to ask you the same thing. I guess it happened. What are
you doing?"
"Lying in bed."
"So am I. But two different beds. Things are done all wrong."
"Want to take a chance and sneak over? I've got an illegal coffee pot."
"Leave the door unlocked."
Lorry put on the coffee. She showered and got into her slip. She was
brushing her hair when Pete came in. He looked at her and extended
beckoning, clutching fingers. "The hell with phantoms. Come here."
After a couple of minutes, Lorry pulled away and poured the coffee. She
reached for her uniform. Pete said, "Don't put it on yet."
"Too dangerous--leaving it off."
He eyed her dreamily. "I'll dredge up will power. I'll also get scads of
fat rich clients. Then we'll get married so I can assault you legally."
Lorry studied him. "You're not even listening to yourself. What is it,
Pete? What have you dreamed up?"
"Okay. I've got an idea. You said something would have to be done."
"What?"
"A drastic cure for a drastic case. With maybe disaster as the end
product."
"Tell me."
"I'll tell you a little, but not too much."
"Why not all?"
"Because if we ever land in court. I want you to be able to say under
oath, 'He didn't tell me what he planned to do.'"
"I don't like that."
"I don't care if you like it or not. Tell me, what's the one basic thing
that stands out in your mind about these--entities?"
"That they're ..."
"Fragile?"
"Yes--fragile."
"Give me some more coffee."
* * * * *
Lorry demanded to know what was in Pete's mind. All she got was kissed,
and she did not see Pete again until eleven o'clock that night. He found
her in the corridor in Maternity and motioned her toward the nursery. He
carried a tray under a white towel. He said, "You watch the door. I'm
going inside. I'll be about a half an hour."
"What are you going to do?"
"You stay out here and mind your business. Your business will be to
steer any nosey party away. If you can't, make noise coming in."
Doc Pete turned away and entered the nursery. Lorry stood at the
doorway, in the silence, under the brooding night-light, and prayed.
Twenty-five minutes later, Pete came out. His face was white and drawn.
He looked like a man who had lately had a preview of Hell's inverted
pleasures. His hands trembled. The towel still covered the tray. He
said, "Watch them close. Don't move ten steps from here." He started
away--turned back. "All hell is scheduled to break loose in this
hospital shortly. Let's hope God remains in charge."
Lorry saw the sick dread of his heart underneath his words.
* * * * *
It could have been a major scandal. An epidemic of measles on the
maternity floor of a modern hospital indicates the unforgivable medical
sin--carelessness. It was hushed up as much as possible, pending the
time when the top people could shake off the shock and recover their
wits. The ultimate recovery of thirty babies was a tribute to everyone
concerned.
Wan, done-in, Doc Pete drank coffee in Lorry's room. Lorry gave him
three lumps of sugar and said, "But are you sure the sickness killed the
entities?"
"Quite sure. Somehow they _knew_ when I made the injections. They
screamed. They knew they were done for."
"It took courage. Tell me: why are you so strong, so brave? Why are you
so wonderful?"
"Cut it out. I was scared stiff. If _one_ baby had died, I'd have gone
through life weighing the cure against the end. It isn't easy to risk
doing murder--however urgent the need."
She leaned across and kissed him. "And you were all alone. You wouldn't
let me help. Was that fair?"
He grinned, then sobered. "But I can't help remembering what that--that
invisible monster said: '_Never before has a whole swarm gotten through.
Only a single entity on rare occasions._'
"I can't help wondering what happens to those single entities. I think
of the newspaper headlines I've seen: Child Kills Parents in Sleep.
Youth Slays Father. I'll probably always wonder--and I'll always
remember...."
Lorry got up and crossed to him and put her arms around him. "Not
always," she whispered. "There will be times when I'll make you forget.
For a little while, anyhow."