She moved forward and inspected the fallen man, felt for a pulse, and
felt again, then got to her feet. As she returned, her back seemed to
have acquired a new sag.
An officer shouted from the truck, his voice gravel rough from tension.
In response, a stretcher-bearing detail moved forward. They inspected
the body of the fallen man, then lifted it and tossed it to the side of
the trail. One clipped a dog tag from it, then ran a counter over it.
He grunted to his companion, who tied a red tag on the dead man's wrist.
"Up that way, boys, you can find some more," Zen called to them,
jerking his thumb up the slope.
"We're not a burial detail," was the answer.
The soldiers in the line shuffled forward.
"Hey! It's gone!" Zen said suddenly.
"What's gone?"
"I'm back," Zen said.
"You never went anywhere," the nurse said.
"_It's gone_ and _I'm back_ both mean the same thing," he tried to
explain. "The thing that is gone is my contact with the race field.
_I'm back_ means that all of a sudden, I'm normal. I'm back here.
I'm looking out of my eyes. I'm hearing with my ears. I don't know
everything any longer."
Daze was in him. Worse than the daze was the fact that even the memory
of the experience was receding. Agony came with this recession. It
seemed to him that this experience was the most important thing that
had ever happened to him.
And it was going away. He watched it slide out of his memory. He felt
like running wildly to try and recapture it. Which way he would run
did not matter, just so he ran until he found it again. He fought the
impulse to run. The experience was not out there; it could not be found
if he searched the whole world for it.
It was inside him.
Nedra looked at West and started to speak, but the craggy man motioned
her to silence.
"Saul on the road to Damascus," Zen muttered. "Something like this
happened to Saul on the road to Damascus."
"Kurt--" Nedra said. Again the craggy man motioned her to silence. The
fellow, rough mountaineer that he was, seemed to have some perception
of the turmoil inside a fellow human being, and more than that, to have
understanding and sympathy.
"I contacted the race mind," Zen said. "For a minute, I was in touch
with the field of the race. But it's gone now," he added. Sadness and a
falling voice went with the last words.
"Step in front of the scope, soldier," a gravel voice growled behind
him. Turning, he saw that he was next in line. The lieutenant in charge
of the first aid station had spoken to him. Seeing the eagle on Zen's
helmet he hastily apologized. "I beg your pardon, sir."
"It's all right," Zen said. For an instant, as conflicting ideas
competed for expression in him, he wondered who he was and why he was
here. Then he remembered what had happened. Well established reaction
patterns took over and he stepped into position in front of the scope.
Inside the back end of the truck, a transformer hummed. Although
he could not feel it, he knew that a powerful stream of radiation
was passing through his body and that a count was being made of the
radioactivity he had absorbed. The lieutenant studied his meters, then
looked up at Zen.
"You're all right, sir." He seemed puzzled.
"Not hot, eh?"
"No, sir, you're not. Frankly, I don't understand it. Oh, you've got a
little exposure, but nothing serious."
"I was in one of the old mines when the blast went off," Zen explained.
"Then that accounts for it. You were lucky as hell, sir. Next."
Catching Nedra's arm, Zen swung her in front of the scope. The
experience with higher levels of consciousness had been forced out of
his mind, and he was all intelligence officer.
"But I'm all right! I mean, there's nothing wrong. Are you out of your
mind again?"
"Yes," Zen said. "But I've got the rank to make my decisions stick
whether I'm out of my mind or not. Lieutenant, check this woman. This
is an order!" Zen snapped out the words with all the precision and
authority of a drill-field sergeant training recruits.
"Yes, sir," the startled medical officer said.
Ignoring Nedra's protests, Zen held her in place while the equipment
was put into operation. Behind them, West watched. The faintest trace
of an approving smile showed on the craggy man's face.