"Well, Henry," said Uncle Andy, whose pipe had gone out, "after all
that's happened, and in view of the landscape below us, I imagine you
are about ready to extrapolate."
"He's got company!" ejaculated the negro G.I. "Ah's about ready to lose
control, myself! Dat Monster Man done burned up mah nervous system, but
dis here country we's flyin' over is gonna make me exasperate all over
if somebody don't tell me where we is at!"
Dr. Edwards was not concerned with him, just now, Henry noted. Instead,
he studied the unknown country below them--and the peculiar sky--as
though orthodox authority were at a loss for an opinion. The Swedish
actress, known by the name of Valerie Roagland, looked at Henry, her
brilliantly blue eyes searching him curiously.
"When will they tell us?" she asked, with just the pleasant trace of a
liquid accent.
"I don't think the Captain or the Navigator are going to be able to
come up with much," said Uncle Andy, noting with appreciation that
Valerie Roagland's hair was naturally blond and wavy. "Unless they are
equipped with a crystal ball."
"What I'd like to know," said Dr. Edwards, "is _how_ this happened. A
weird creature like that, suddenly appearing on board and stealing two
babies, then disappearing into thin air. And when it's all over--" He
shrugged and pointed below.
Henry looked again at the terrain over which they were flying. The ship
was in descent, and their present altitude of some three thousand feet
gave him a close view.
* * * * *
Distant seas, land locked tropical harbors, islands, and the great land
mass below with its rivers and lakes and jungles and very low, pagan
looking hills. Here below them was an apparently uninhabited Eden--a
Paradise that continued endlessly. No ship, sailboat or canoe could
be discerned on any visible body of water. No city, town or village.
No highways, country roads or footpaths. There were only brilliant
flowers, on the ground and in the trees, and a few birds.
Nothing more--except the sky.
The sky was blue, but without a sun, although the brilliance of the day
was equivalent to that of high noon. It was as though a curtain had
been drawn across the heavens--as though they were adventuring within
a shell that encircled the world.
"The absence of the sun," said Henry, "is one basis for conjecture. The
absence of inhabitants is another. But the last announcement they made
over the P.A. system gives us the most conclusive evidence of all."
Dr. Edwards looked at him quickly. "That announcement merely revealed
the fact that no radio contact has been made with anyone," he said.
"What does it prove?"
"It was not announced that the radio is not functioning properly,"
replied Henry. "Given a radio that is in working order, and no
reception; given a primitive looking country such as this one below us,
with no signs of inhabitants, plus a bright blue sky without a sun--and
the answer is obvious."
"I wish it were as obvious to me," said Valerie Roagland. "What do you
make of it, Henry? What _is_ the answer?"
"Man, you's got more complications!" protested the negro G.I. "Come on!
It's a impossibility to scare me any futher, 'cause I got goose pimples
clear out on my fingernails! Let's have it!"
Henry looked expressionlessly through the observation panels and
wondered, as he had wondered all his life, how he knew, _a priori_,
what it took those around him so long to figure out.
"This is another world," he said. "If it is not another planet--"
"Oh, Henry, for the love of God!" exclaimed Dr. Edwards. "You and your
extrapolations! How could this be another planet? What inhabitable
planet would not reveal a sun in its sky? And how could we be
transported there in the twinkling of an eye?"
"The planet, Venus, is surrounded by clouds of some sort," said Henry.
"We have never seen its surface. Perhaps it would be Nature's way to
protect such a world from the brightness and heat of a nearer sun by
surrounding it with some sort of protective layer that only _looks_
like a sky. But I don't think this is Venus."
"Well, that's very nice to know," said Dr. Edwards, sarcastically.
"What _do_ you think it is, Henry?" asked Uncle Andy, puffing again at
his pipe.
"Earth--incalculably removed into the distant future. We have been
hurled into future Time."
Dr. Edwards snorted, straightened up, and left the group without a word.
"Look at the low hills," said Henry to the others. "We've been flying
over this country for several hours. Here we have a small continent,
a comparatively major land mass--but no mountains. That would be
indicative of great geologic age. Furthermore, you will note that the
islands we saw, though tropical, are not the result of coral growth.
They are the tops of low hills. At one time this was a greater land
mass, but it has since been inundated."
The P. A. system blared. "_All passengers and crew, prepare for
landing...._"
"Say, Henry," interposed Scarface for the first time, "how did we get
here?"
"The--alien--took himself back to where he came from, along with the
two babies. I believe he made a mistake and transported us, too."
Scarface raised one black brow quizzically. "Then you mean--we have
come to the place where that geek went to with the kids?"
"Perhaps. But if we followed him accidentally through time we might
have been dropped off somewhere along the Continuum, either prior to
his own time or far beyond his era."
Scarface looked at Valerie Roagland and Uncle Andy. They expected him
to grin in amusement, but he did not.
"We better take seats," he said. "I think I need one, landing or no
landing."
Valerie Roagland cornered Uncle Andy and flashed him a smile that
brought him to a staggering halt. "This is all a little beyond me," she
said. "What do _you_ think has happened?"
He looked at her in silence a moment before answering. Then he gently
patted her shapely shoulder. "The most practical thing I can say," he
answered, "is to relax. No matter what has happened--we're here. Let's
face it and wait for developments."
Suddenly she tucked her arm in his. He looked down at her arm, then
into her eyes. After that, they walked up to A deck together.
Henry, following them, knew the answer. Far from being romance, it was
an expression of the present situation. They were confronted with the
Unknown. Their own world with its mores, complexities and inhibitions
was behind them. Beneath that veneer, in real people, lay a human
frankness, and a gregarious instinct. If rough waters lay ahead,
Valerie Roagland preferred to have a man like Uncle Andy around. No
strings. No innuendos.
But what lay beneath the civilized veneers of other people on board?
Take Scarface, for example. Why was he carrying a loaded gun?
* * * * *
"Well, it didn't take us long, did it?" Uncle Andy cast his line once
more into the swelling waves and squinted against the eternal light of
day.
"What do you mean?" queried Henry. His shoes were off and he wriggled
his toes in the warm light of the sky as he sat precariously on the
edge of the great rock that jutted out from the land ten feet above the
sea. He looked at Uncle Andy's fishing rod and thought: That's all we
got out of the survival gear. Everybody just _grabbed_.
"I mean--" Uncle Andy wound in fast. "It's only been two weeks since
our crash landing, and our little human colony has divided itself into
separate groups." The fish hook was empty--of fish, and of bait.
Henry handed him another "bush worm"--a two-inch long greenish thing
with tentacles all over it. It squirmed but was harmless otherwise.
"It's like a glass jar they showed us once at the orphanage," he
answered. "There were big pebbles, little pebbles, and sand. You shook
the jar awhile and pretty soon you had each size and type seeking its
own level. That's like people."
Uncle Andy smiled around the edges of his pipe stem and cast out again,
with the fresh bait. "You always hit the nail on the head, Henry.
You're an unusual human being. I wish I knew more about your actual
parentage. They told me a story about you. You were a year old child
when they found you naked on the Normandie beach. You're probably
French, all right. But who your parents were will probably never be
known--especially now."
"And you skip around a lot," retorted Henry. "We were talking about the
people back at the camp." He had built up a wall of inhibition against
the pain of not knowing about his parents. He resented any probing into
that isolated cyst of longing.
"Yes, I know." The line was taut now, and Uncle Andy was fighting a
catch. "Take the English clan--that Cyril Rollins or whatever his name
is, and your Lady Dewitt and the governess and the two Crispin sisters
and that old retired sea captain, Langham. Colonization is a tradition
with them. By God, if they had a flag they'd unfurl it in the name of
the Queen! They can't quite swallow the concept of complete severance
with the world they knew. It's a sort of mental defense mechanism, I
guess. And no criticism, either. Merely a sign of their own particular
character as a people. But that's just an example of the grouping
that's going on."
The catch came in--a two foot lizard, glaring scarlet with blue and
yellow gills and black eyes that pierced one with a deadly stare of
murderous hate.
"Hm-m-m. That biologist, Doctor Singer, will have to see this." Uncle
Andy held it beneath his foot studying it. "This certainly is a
different type of world. Entirely different evolution. All the fauna
and flora we've seen yet are different than anything we've known.
Hundreds of millions of years--maybe much more. I'd swear we're still
on Earth. It _feels_ like Earth. But what happened to our own time? Did
the world start over again, somewhat unthinkably long ago? Where are
we? At the dawn or at the end of Creation?"
Henry reflected that there were five mental cases back in camp--all
raving idiots. They, too, had tried to find an answer, but their
minds were not as well balanced as others. He pinned his faith on
minds like Uncle Andy, his own--and Martia's. He couldn't see Martia
yet--not alone, that is. Sooner or later, though, after the Lady Dewitt
extracted herself from her delusions--
"You're talking to yourself," he accused. "We were discussing the
people. One group I don't like is that Tommy Weston gang. They are
the crude pebbles in the glass jar--and they are trouble makers. The
incident about the women last night is just one indication of what's
ahead. Here we are in Paradise and some are reverting to animals
already."
Night was only an arbitrary period of rest. In this world there was no
actual night. Daylight apparently continued forever.
"Look!" exclaimed Uncle Andy. "Here comes Valerie and Pee Bee!"
* * * * *
Henry turned in time to see the Swedish actress and the negro G.I.
climbing up the rock behind them. Pee Bee, the negro, carried a
bonafide picnic basket under his arm. The basket seemed incongruous,
but Henry knew it was one of half a dozen that had been woven recently
by several women who had found an unlimited supply of rushes for the
purpose. There was a medical doctor in camp who had told everyone
they had better keep busy and be industrious if they wanted to avoid
cracking up. The baskets were one of the results of his advice.
Pee Bee, who had been nick-named "Powder Blue," or P.B., by his fellow
servicemen, flashed them a toothy smile and helped Valerie up the
incline of the rock.
"We figured you fishermen would be starvin' for lack of fish," he
called out, "so we done brought you all a lunch!"
"K-rations again," put in Valerie, smiling at both of them. "They
found some more near the wreckage. But they really are the last. Good
Heavens! What is that!" She pointed at the scarlet lizard under Uncle
Andy's foot.
"That," he answered, "is _lacerta litoralis satanus_, or the swimming
devil lizard."
Pee Bee's eyes bugged out. "Ah got just one question. Do we eat _it_,
or does it eat _us_?"
Everybody laughed, and Uncle Andy did not try to avoid taking in all of
Valerie with his eyes. She wore light blue slacks, beach sandals and a
white shirt, the tails of which were tied in a knot under her breasts,
making it an appropriate midriff outfit. Her voluminous blond hair
floated cleanly in the salty breeze and her face and neck were already
deeply tanned. She looked up at him and caught his eyes and their
smiles faded--slowly.
Words between them would have been superfluous. Inevitably, their
companionship in this lost world had developed into a much closer
relationship.
The four of them sat there on the rock, bare legs dangling over,
and ate K-rations. In the reassuring warmth and sunlight before the
comprehensible aspect of the ageless sea, they felt little need for
conversation. They were content with the awareness of _not_ being alone.
Henry watched a printed wrapping from the K-rations float on the waves
below, and he thought it far more incongruous than the picnic basket.
K-rations--a million years removed from their source. Along these
shores were empty tin cans and bottles and old newspapers and magazines
lying among the seaweeds and flotsam.
_Man_ had come to Paradise....
* * * * *
After lunch they fell into the usual discussion. Where were they? How
had they come here? What was the alien's purpose of taking the two
babies? Was the alien here, in this world, or in some other one? What
would be the possibilities of exploring this world and what might they
discover--if anything? Were they doomed to stay here forever?
Uncle Andy expressed the opinion that, until something better
developed, it would be the sanest course to get their little colony
organized under a recognizable form of government. Dwellings had to be
built. Sources of food had to be secured. Exploration parties must be
sent out.
"In substance," he said, "that's what the big meeting tonight is all
about. We have to get organized and come to decisions regarding the
future."
"Look!" said Henry. "There's Tommy Weston and some of his gang." He
pointed back toward the jungle.
All four of them looked shoreward and discerned six bare-chested men
standing there about a hundred feet from them, just under the shade of
the flowering trees. Four of them were construction men, led by the big
man who had sat with Scarface in the seat behind Henry, Uncle Andy and
Dr. Edwards back when--things were normal. This two hundred and forty
pound package of trouble was Tommy Weston, heavy chested, big fisted,
tattooed, square jawed, bewhiskered, and with a brooding tawny-eyed
stare. His crinkly hair, on his head, chest and brawny arms, was a
dark, rusty red. And he was heavily freckled.
He stood there talking to his men and gesticulating toward the group
on the rock. Henry recognized two of the men as the only two cooks
belonging to the camp. One was an ugly hulk of a man who in his youth
might have been more than a match for Weston. He was a garrulous,
argumentative Pole, pale-faced, perspiring, and wearing a battered,
black felt hat. The other was young, probably only twenty, but
squarely built and already notoriously hot-tempered, having been in
three fistfights since the crash landing. His hair and lashes were pure
white. Hence the obvious name, Whitey.
"They're coming up here," said Valerie. "I wish they wouldn't. It was
so peaceful."
"Relax, honey," Uncle Andy replied. "Maybe they only want to borrow my
fishing gear."
"Man, de only thing dat big boy wants to borrow 'round here is
trouble!" put in Pee Bee. "Ah wish ah was back home playin' pool on
Central Avenue now!"
Henry merely watched the men climb the rock. He saw their ugly grins
as they looked at Valerie, and he thought of the separation of the
sand and pebbles in the jar again. Uncle Andy got to his feet and held
up the devil lizard for them to see. It was a disarming neighborly
gesture, but Henry felt it was somehow pathetic. He had a distinct
feeling of being cornered. He knew Uncle Andy felt that, too, but he
didn't show it.
* * * * *
Camp was almost a mile distant and completely out of sight behind two
jungle covered headlands. The six men came up onto the rock and stood
there grinning at them.
"It probably isn't even edible," said Uncle Andy, still referring to
the devil lizard. "But this sea is teeming with life."
Tommy Weston looked down at Henry and saw his box of worms. "You ain't
doin' so hot, then," he answered. "Lemme try that pole. Gimme some of
them worms, Henry."
Both Uncle Andy and Henry complied, while Valerie kept very much to
herself. She still sat on the edge of the rock, with her back toward
them, and looked down into the swirling water. Pee Bee was a powder
blue study in self-effacement. He kept his eyes on the water as though
he wished he were a fish.
Weston hooked on his bait and cast far out. "We been makin' the
rounds," he said. "We're checkin' up on everybody's ideas about the
meeting tonight."
"Well, now, that's a pretty sure sign we're all going to survive,"
remarked Uncle Andy, but not as naively as he sounded. "I didn't know
anyone was actively concerned about it. I'm glad you fellows think the
meeting is that important."
"Sure it's important!" exclaimed the big, Polish cook with the felt
hat. "Vot you t'ink ve goink around for a valk only for our healt'?"
"Shut up, Sceranka!" said Weston, reeling in the line. "You see, we
don't like the set-up. There's too many government boys who think
naturally they got the say-so around here. They still recognize Captain
Merman as the head man. And it seems they sort of got things set up
their own way." The other five men, if they were not watching Valerie,
were watching Uncle Andy for his reactions as Weston spoke.
The fishline came in empty. Weston baited again.
"I can see your point," said Uncle Andy. "You favor a more democratic
method of setting up the colony, now that the emergency is over and we
are peacefully established on land. The rules governing international
flights do not apply here. Since there is no government, or any contact
with one, the people must elect one. Is that what you're getting at?"
Weston looked at him in surprise. "Yeah! That's the idea!" he
exclaimed. "The democratic system!"
But Uncle Andy and Henry did not like the grins on the other men's
faces.
"Now take me, for instance!" Weston continued, casting out his line
again. "I'm up for election!"
This time, Valerie had to turn and stare at him in astonishment. He
looked down at her as he reeled in the line and gave her a smile that
revealed gold-capped teeth.
"What's the matter, beautiful? Wouldn't I make a good candidate? I got
a platform already. No red tape. No promises. And no taxes. Just do as
I say and we'll all get along."
"Obviously," said Uncle Andy, "that's a brand of politics that belongs
to gangsters. What can you possibly hope to gain even if you are the
Boss of this outfit?"
* * * * *
The hook came in empty, so Weston threw the pole down on the rock.
He faced Uncle Andy and gave him that twany-eyed, brooding look of
his. "I got this to gain," he said. "None of us knows what's gonna
happen. Maybe our chances of gettin' back to civilization are slim.
But if things get tough I ain't going to be breakin' my back under
nobody else's whip. I don't go for this gold braid and paper baloney.
I think half the camp is made up of a helpless mess of blubber as far
as _men_ go. Of course, as far as the women go we don't mind them bein'
helpless! We'll take care of them, but first they gotta come down off
their pedestals and get some sense into 'em!" He and all his men looked
at Valerie. "We might never get back home," he said, pointedly, "and in
that case things have got to be a lot different around here. And me and
my boys have just got the guts to make the necessary changes!"
Uncle Andy stiffened, but he held his temper. "Tommy," he said, "what
is it you want? How does this visit of yours apply to the meeting
tonight?"
"We're going to force the issue on voting in a new leader. I'll be a
candidate. If you know what's good for you, you'll vote for _me_!"
Uncle Andy wanted to ask him why they should vote at all as long as
Weston had decided how the voting was going to go, but instead he said,
"How about giving us time to consider it? Until tonight."
"Sure! Just so you decide by tonight. You can't vote before then!"
"Yeah but what about the dame?" Whitey blurted out. "You know what you
said."
Instinctively, Valerie sprang to her feet and drew close to Uncle Andy.
Just as instinctively, he put an arm around her, protectively.
Tommy Weston hooked his thumbs into his pants and drew close to Uncle
Andy. "Now there's another point I'd like to bring up," he said. "Just
who elected you the fair haired boy with blondie, here? You may have to
get used to some different ideas before long."
"So it might as well be now!" put in Whitey, coming shoulder to
shoulder with Weston.
The other four men closed in also. The big Pole with the hat was
sweating more profusely now, and his eyes grew large as he stared at
Valerie.
"So we've come to this," said Uncle Andy, actually stalling for time.
"Let's face it!" exclaimed Weston. "We always _been_ here!"
"Yes," Henry broke in. "You're right! There was a thin, fake covering
called civilization, once. But now at the end of time the covering
comes off and we find nothing has changed since the Stone Age!"
Tommy Weston sneered. "So the young genius has to put his two-bits in,
too! Well, boys, the conference is over!" He reached out for Valerie's
shirt, just as Pee Bee suddenly got to his feet in a crouching
position, ready to uncoil.
Uncle Andy's fists were coming up when another man shouldered his way
between the construction men. Action froze on all sides as they looked
at the newcomer. He stood there in shirt, trousers and tan sport shoes.
It was Scarface, wearing a very handy looking shoulder holster. From
the holster, the butt of a black automatic protruded.
"Any trouble up here?" he queried, nonchalantly, as though he were
asking if the fish were biting.
* * * * *
Tommy Weston's already tanned face darkened, as did Whitey's. The other
men backed away, slightly. In addition to having a respect for the gun,
they respected the man. None of them knew who Scarface was, actually,
but they remembered he had had the nerve to shoot it out with the alien.
"So the little gun boy is going to take sides!" sneered Weston.
Scarface raised his brows and spoke unsmilingly through his teeth.
"I've got news for you," he said. "As a trouble maker you're an
amateur. I'm professional, but please don't ask for a demonstration
today. Now I want all you hairy-chested little girls to climb back on
your kiddy cars and toddle home, because there's no more Mickey Mouse
today."
"If you didn't have that goddam gun I'd swedge your sassy yap shut!"
threatened Weston, looming over him and fuming.