The Scapegoat

by Richard Maples

have it.

  It seems the kid was running around with a tough crowd. She wanted toget him away from the city. He needed the fresh air and the decent,normal home-life of a small town, she said. And she meant every word ofit.

  Luckily, Jones had come along right about then and offered me a job onhis newspaper, back in the old home town. He had an idea he could drivethe opposition paper out of business by featuring yellow journalism atthe local level. That's where I came in. With my ability to make thenews bleed, he figured he could cinch it. For that reason, he waswilling to double my present salary. So I accepted.

  Nan, of course, was furious, even though I pointed out the extra doughmeant we could start planning again. She didn't calm down until Ipromised to quit the job after six months.

  * * * * *

  Yes, it was always something. She was right enough about that. But shehad no right to make such an issue of things. I started to tell herthat, then stopped. Maybe she was picking a quarrel to make me forgetabout the old man and the story. I threw a fast block into myresentment.

  "Honey," I said, "don't be unreasonable. Remember this job with Joneswas supposed to get Tommy away from the city, and the extra dough wasall part of that big plan for the teaching business."

  "What plan?" she flared. "There never was a plan except to pamper yourvanity! Big-shot Potter, the whiz-bang newspaperman! That's all you'veever been interested in!"

  I had to take a deep breath to keep from yelling back at her. "You'renot being very fair about this. I did it all with you and Tommy inmind."

  Her voice lowered. "Is that so? Well, how about the promise to quit insix months? We've saved the money. What marvelous thing do you have inmind for me and Tommy now?"

  That _hurt_. As a matter of fact, I'd been quite enjoying the stint withJones. My series on juvenile delinquency had just about doubledcirculation and that gave me a deep sense of accomplishment. Then, too,writing the stuff against the Mayor and the rest of the town'sbig-wigs--in keeping with Jones' political ambitions--nurtured a feelingof power that was very satisfying.

  Frankly, the meeting earlier that evening had set me down harder than Icared to admit. Now, with every chance for a comeback, Nan wanted me topass!

  "Listen," I snarled, "so it's hot. So don't take it out on me!"

  Her fists bunched and the color drained from her face. Knowing thesigns, I could tell this was going to be a lulu.

  But the door flew open and Tommy came clomping through the hallway andinto the front room. He's a big kid for his age, mentally andphysically. He spotted the old man right away.

  "Gol_lee_!" he breathed excitedly. "Who's the creep?"

  "Never mind," Nan said, quickly recovering her composure. "He's had anaccident. Just get some money from your father and go to the drugstorefor more bandages. I'll need them."

  I gave him a buck and he ran out the kitchen way, slamming the back doorso hard, the whole house shook.

  The old man's eyes flickered open. He looked at me first, then at Nan."Well," he said in a peculiar muffled tone that suggested he wasspeaking through an obstruction like a fencing mask, "isn't this cozy!"

  I immediately threw a lot of questions at him. His name, he said, wasAshe--just plain Ashe. He couldn't remember any other name. He couldn'tremember why he'd been beaten up, nor what had led up to it. He was veryconfused. He thought maybe it would all come back to him later. However,he did remember my rescuing him and he appreciated that very much.Hearing him say so gave me a nice, tingling glow. I invited him to stayfor dinner and he accepted.

  * * * * *

  Nan objected. "There's only salad," she wailed. "It was too hot tocook."

  "Salad's fine," I told her.

  "Oh, Ted, please!"

  "Listen here," I said coldly, "I've invited Ashe to stay and he'saccepted. Why all the fuss?"

  She gave me a hurt look, turned, flounced into the kitchen. I started tofollow, thinking I'd made a mistake in being so brusque. Then I thought,the heck with it. Let her take it any way she wanted.

  Sweat was plastering my shirt and pants to me like a skindiver's outfit.I needed a shower. I told Ashe to rest easy and went into the bathroom.

  When I came out, Tommy had returned. He and the old man were busilygabbing. Nan, standing by the kitchen door, frantically signaled me tojoin her. In the kitchen, she backed me against the sink. "Get him outof here!"

  "Why?" I asked, startled.

  "There's something wrong with him."

  "Wrong?"

  "He gives me the willies."

  "It's just the heat," I scoffed.

  "If you must know, he--he leered at me! While you were in the shower. Itwas awful!"

  "Nan, do you think that kind of yarn is going to stop me from writingabout what happened tonight? It won't. And you can make up your mind I'mkeeping the job. When I get through with the people in this town,they'll know they've been dealing with Edward Potter!"

  Tight-lipped, she went to the refrigerator for the supper.

  As soon as we'd sat down, Ashe began to talk. He kept it up through theentire meal. He'd been everywhere and done everything, to hear him tellit. Tommy, listening bug-eyed, kept asking questions. It sort of got me.The hero of the affair, to my own son, was Ashe!

  It was Nan who finally blew the whistle.

  "Mr. Ashe," she said, her voice honed to a razor-edge, "I'm sure Tedwould be much more interested in knowing what led up to the fighttonight--or are you still confused?"

  There was a beat of three while he studied Nan carefully. Then he said,"It's quite apparent, Mrs. Potter, that you've absolutely no use for me.This shows discernment. Most likely, with a woman's instinct, you've hitupon at least part of the truth. Because of that, it might be wise tolay all my cards on the table. But I warn you, it will be hard tobelieve."

  "That," said Nan, leaning back with a gleam of triumph in her eyes,"I'll bet on!"

  * * * * *

  It was hard to believe, all right. So hard, in fact, that I thought hewas just pulling Nan's leg.

  He said he'd come from another world, outside our solar system, wherepeople existed in a kind of liquid state, bouncing about, for the mostpart, like large water-filled bladders. They were, however, capable oftaking almost any shape their superior minds willed. They could flattenand drift about in the water, or they could inflate and rise in the air.They could even become facsimiles of other living things, taking on theshape, texture and coloration, a capability which aided greatly in theirmain function of traveling as missionaries of goodness amongst thepeoples of the Galaxy. For they were perfect--as perfect as angels.

  As he talked, Nan's face got redder and redder. Finally, when I couldn'tkeep from snickering, she jumped up, grabbed her empty plate and headedfor the kitchen.

  "Don't rush off, honey," I said innocently.

  She stopped at the kitchen door and glared at me. "I guess I know whenI'm being kidded!"

  "But," said Ashe in his cold, dry purr, "I'm not kidding."

  It seemed to me the joke had gone far enough. "Don't tell me," I saidsarcastically, "that you're a missionary to Earth!"

  "No," he admitted. "I'm here because I was banished."

  "Oh. A sort of fallen angel!"

  "Exactly."

  Another chill scurried along my spine. It was his tone of voice morethan anything. But then, too, his eyes had a dull, black humorlessnessabout them.

  Nan returned to the table and sat down. I noticed a band of perspirationmustaching her upper lip. Indeed, I seemed to have grown much hottermyself.

  Irritably, I said, "Ashe, it's too damn warm for games. If you don'twant to explain what happened this evening, that's your privilege. But,as you know, the story means a lot to me. And I did stick my neck outfor you!"

  He held up a gnarled hand. "One moment, my boy. Let me finish."

  So he finished. And the rest of the story was even nuttier.

  He was a throwback, he sai
d with quiet pride. The perfection which hadtaken his people countless years to attain was wiped out the moment hecame into being. They'd tried to reform him, but there was somethingfundamental about his evil--as if it were an essence.

  As a last resort, they'd put him into one of their wonderful machinesand thrown the switch. At that agonizing instant, he'd imagined himselfto be water scraping over the edge of a sharp rock. Then he'd come to,drifting through space. And, much later, he'd touched Earth. Oncelanded, he'd taken on many shapes, through the years--mainly,