The Trap

by Betsy Curtis

  Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

  Transcriber's Note:

  This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction August 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.

  the TRAP

  By BETSY CURTIS

  _She had her mind made up--the one way they'd make her young again was over her dead body!_

  * * * * *

  Old Miss Barbara Noble twitched aside the edge of the white scrimcurtain to get a better look at the young man coming down the street.He might be the one.

  The young man bent a little under the weight of the battered blacksuitcase as he crossed Maple and started up Prospect on Miss Noble'sside. She could see him set the case down on the wide porch of theRaney house and wipe his forehead with a handkerchief. Then she lostsight of him as he advanced to the door. He could be a visitor to theRaney's, but they were out of town on vacation. He could be asalesman.

  Miss Barbara shifted her rocker to the other side of the window whereshe could watch without having to disturb the curtain. Thissecond-floor sitting room made an excellent lookout. She quicklyscanned the street in the other direction, but there was no sign ofmovement in the hot sunlight. She settled down to watch the blacksuitcase sitting uncommunicatively at the edge of the porch.

  It must have been all of two minutes before the young man appearedfrom under the over-hanging roof and picked up the case. A persistentfellow. He went down to the sidewalk and approached her own house,came up on her own front doorstep, tried to set the case down on thenarrow stoop, couldn't, straightened up and rang the bell. A raucousbuzz filled the sitting room.

  * * * * *

  Barbara Noble leaned toward the window, pulled back the curtain ascant inch, and studied his back as he looked at the windows on theother side of the front door. Limp yellow hair and a big perspirationstain in the middle of a dark sport shirt were her chief impressions.He could be a bona fide salesman working hard at it. She wouldn't lethim in, of course; but she felt a little sorry for him lugging thatbig case around in this weather. Then he turned and looked straight atthe window behind which she was hiding, and she let the curtain gosuddenly. Had he seen it move? The buzzer sounded again, imperiously.

  Miss Barbara got up stiffly, moved to the big vizer screen in thenearest corner, and switched it on. The man might have somethinginteresting and she couldn't get out to shop the way she used to. Shesmoothed her lilac housedress and left the room to descend the stairsto the front door.

  In the tiny front hall she hesitated, then opened the door inwardabout eight inches. Deftly the man stuck the broad brown toe of hisshoe into the opening and looked down at her. She grinned as she sawhis expression of shock.

  She was old, really old. Her sparse white hair was pulled so tightlyinto a knob on top of her head that the plentiful wrinkles on herforehead and around her eyes seemed to run vertically, giving her anoriental look. The hand she rested on the door jamb was a waxy-whiteclaw, a blue vein standing up prominently under the skin tight-drawnover gnarly finger joints. He had probably never seen a woman muchpast middle age.

  "Well?" Her croak was high and rough.

  * * * * *

  The young man recovered himself and began his spiel. "Madame, Irepresent one of the best-known and most reputable firms in thecountry. Our products have received three international medals forpurity and effective performance. They...."

  "What are you selling, young man?"

  "I have the privilege of being a field representative for TaffetaBeauty Aids. Please accept this generous ten-ounce bottle of ourDiamond Dew Refreshest Lotion...." He reached into his side pocket andbrought it out, offered it with the most appreciative smile, his 'youhardly need this' smile.

  Her hand did not reach out. "I don't want any. Goodbye!" The doortightened against his foot.

  "But madame," his foot did not budge and his smile became bothengaging and pleading, "all I ask is a chance to show you our line.Our products sell themselves. Besides, I'm paid on a demonstrationbasis--so much for every potential customer who receives our freesample and so much for every home demonstration. You wouldn't want meto lose two-fifty when it would take only six and a third minutes ofyour time exactly to look over one of the most amazing displaysever...."

  "Well, I don't know...."

  "I know you'll enjoy watching our Tissue Cleanser in action and seeingthe new simplicity of our Home Re--...." (oops, he'd almost said it)"... Hair Relustrification Kit. I promise you that your few minuteswon't be wasted."

  "Yours would be, young man. I don't buy that stuff."

  "You may be one of the lucky few women who don't need our products,but I don't think you can say that before you've seen them."

  "I never did see such persistence, honest to goodness!" Her faceassumed a crabbed smile. "Come along then."

  * * * * *

  She moved back from the door into the darkness of the house; and thesalesman shifted his case back to his left hand, pushed the front doorwide and took a quick long step inside. He was just in time to hearthe slight click of the closing of a second door in front of him. Hereached for the knob, turned it; but the door was locked. The outsidedoor still stood open, caught by the end of the sample case.

  The July daylight from outside showed him that he was in a tinyentrance hall not more than forty inches each way. He pulled the casein and by squeezing against the inner door allowed the front door toclose. Anyhow, he was inside the house. He rapped sharply on the innerdoor.

  The latch on the front door snapped to and instantly the hall wasflooded with light from a tremendous bulb in the ceiling, which,surprisingly, was twenty feet above him.

  A harsh voice, tinny with tremendous amplification but unmistakablythat of the old woman, filled the hall, "ALL RIGHT, YOUNG MAN. I HAVETHE VIZER TURNED ON YOU. LET'S SEE THE DEMONSTRATION. I BELIEVE YOUSAID SIX MINUTES. GET ON WITH IT."

  Screening his eyes with his fingers, the salesman scanned the wallsand ceiling for the vizer lens, found it beside the five-hundred wattbulb pouring blindingly down on him, on the other side of a speakergrille.

  "C-certainly, madame." What a layout. As he automatically laid hiscase on the floor and opened back the top against the front door, hiseyes searched the walls for indications of openings which might meanunexpected defenses such as anesthetic tanks. The only breaks in thetwo smooth white plaster surfaces which he could see as he squattedbefore the case were a horizontal row of glass bosses on each side atabout the height of his knees.

  "Now, since my face," he closed his eyes and flashed a toothy smile,like a video actor, up at the vizer lens, "is subjected to the dailycare of Taffeta Products," he turned his face down to the case andgritted his teeth, "I must smear facial muscle softener into the lefthalf to show the action and appearance of muscles which have losttheir tonus." He whipped the cover off a small ivorine jar and rubbedhis cheek vigorously with a brownish salve. "You will note that thissoftener also contains a percentage of grime which lodges in thepores."

  He heard a gasp from the speaker grille when he displayed a face whoseleft cheek and brow were sagged, wrinkled and hideously brownspeckled. From somewhere behind the gasp, he heard a continuous tinkleof tiny bells.

  His hands moved among the bottles and jars, raised a round silver boxwhich he held up. "The delicately perfumed applicator pads for allapplications of Taffeta Preparations are pre-saturated with FirmolTone Charger. I dip the pad into this solution of Enhancing Hyssop,"he did so, "and work it gently in
to the pores. The results areinstantaneous!" He turned up his original video star appearance.

  * * * * *

  While bending his body forward to reach the articles strapped to thetop of the case, he noticed that the tone of the distant bells wasraised. Screwing a circular hairbrush to the thread of a collapsibletube, he sank back on his haunches. The bell tones were lower. Heplaced a hand on one of the glass bosses nearest the inner door,apparently to steady himself. An even lower tone was added to the bellnotes. Obviously electric eyes with a set of bell signals in the oldwoman's present location. He smiled down at the floor--to himself.

  "Now I want you to notice closely this object which I will show you."He held up the brush with the tube screwed on its back and turned itabout. "Do you know what this is?"

  There was no answer from the speaker but its own hum and the tinkle ofthe bells. "What does it look like?" He spoke rapidly, pleasantly.There was still no answer.

  He rose quickly and tried the knob of the inner door again. He couldhear the bell notes lower in pitch as he pressed against the door.

  "LET ME SEE THE THING AGAIN, YOUNG MAN. HONEST TO GOODNESS, WHATDIFFERENCE DOES IT MAKE WHETHER OR NOT I KNOW WHAT IT IS? IT LOOKSLIKE A HAIRBRUSH WITH SOME DO-JIGGER ON THE TOP."

  He jumped back to the center of the hall. "This brush is the essentialfeature of our sensational Hair Relustrifier Kit. The tube screwed tothe top feeds the specially developed Brilliancette directly througheach hollow bristle to reach every part of the hair." He ran or ratherscrubbed the brush through the right side of his long fair pompadourwith small rotary motions. When he removed the brush, that side of hishead was covered with crisp yellow ringlets which shone under thelight like sculptured gold.

  "THAT'S SOME SORT OF A TRICK! DO IT ON THE OTHER...." Her voice wasinterrupted by a syncopated clicking. A telephone signal. "JUST AMOMENT, YOUNG MAN." The hum of the speaker cut off and the suddensilence seemed full of the echoes of the bells.

  * * * * *

  Instantly the man dropped the gadget into the case and grabbed ahandful of cleansing tissues from a box in it. He snapped down the topof the case and whipped the straps through the buckles. Then he shovedthe case against one of the side walls and sat on it to flip off hisshoes and socks. Shoving his back tightly against the wall, he benthis knees up and pushed his bare feet flat against the other. Afterplacing the wad of tissues in his lap, he put his hands against thewall below his buttocks and, like an experienced mountain climber,inched his way rapidly up the 'chimney' of the hall. When his headtouched the ceiling, he braced himself firmly with his left hand andreached with his right for the tissues in his lap. Protecting his handwith several of the white papers, he felt above him for the base ofthe light bulb, unscrewed it, and dropped it gently onto the rest ofthe tissues still in his lap. The sudden blackness was smothering.

  Heat seeped through the tissues more rapidly than he had expected; andthe effort to keep his knees from contracting and spilling him in theutter darkness to the floor fifteen feet below was agony.

  When he finally reached the floor, he placed the bulb on it beside thesample case. Then he opened the front door and closed it again,leaving the door caught open a fraction of an inch by the latchagainst the frame. Taking an anesthetic cartridge out of his pantspocket, he broke the seal, taking care not to trigger it, and returnedto his crevice-climbing posture. He lifted himself again above the rowof electric eyes and waited, cartridge in hand, leg muscles crampingpainfully.

  * * * * *

  After Miss Noble had turned off the speakphone, she pulled herselfaway from the fascinating view of golden curls and scuttled over to astiff ladder-back chair beside the telephone stand. She lifted theantique cradle phone (none of these modern invasions of privacy likethe vizerphone) and spoke warily into the mouthpiece.

  "Who is it? What do you want?"

  "Barbara?" A man's voice was urgent.

  "This is Miss Noble speaking," she replied haughtily.

  The voice was savage. "Well, this is _Doctor_ Harris, then. Have youlooked at the mail today? I got my directors' meeting notice thismorning."

  "Yes, I got one. The fifth of August," she said impatiently.

  "And this seems to be our year. There's been a girl here already thismorning with some story about my having advertised for a housekeeper.She told it to the doorphone and wouldn't leave when I said I didn'twant anybody--but it only took one drop of skunk oil in the hallway tosend her packing." The horrid chuckle that came from the receiver wasso raucous that Miss Noble held it away from her ear.

  "Blonde or brunette?" she asked noncommittally.

  "Blonde--and really young, not a damn rejuvenee!"

  "Rod Harris! You actually went and peeked at her, you old goat!"

  "Only through the one-way."

  "Well, since the company knows that a pretty girl is still good baitfor an old ninny, you're as good as a goner. They'll have _you_rejuvenated before long."

  "They won't get a chance to! And I'm going to get old enough so Ican't even lift a hand to thumb my nose at the company. Then I'm goingto go and die and the Juvine Perpetual Youth Corporation will screamin agony as it disbands and makes public property of its hallowedformulas as per the original articles of incorporation ... and _you_will probably get a new set of false teeth and take the treatmentagain since you could get it real cheap when the monopoly's finishedand not have to disturb your millions salted away in the sugar bowl."

  This mixture of facetiousness and downright sarcasm was only surpassedby Miss Noble, who snapped back, "Don't you sneer at me, Doctor RolandHarris, when you know perfectly well that the _only_ reason I have togo on living this long is to make sure that you are really dead first.You didn't invent rejuvenation all by yourself without the aid ofBarbara Noble, Ph.D., and the company has the sole right to theprocess until we're _both_ dead. And, if you start peeking at plumpblonde wenches at this point, I suppose I'll have to live till LosAlamos freezes over!"

  "All right, all right. But she wasn't plump. She wasn't any biggerthan you are. Besides, you know I'd rather have dinner with you. Myman Marko could give us roast beef with all the fixings and afterwardI want you to hear my latest discovery. It's the best damnextempore-singer you've ever heard, Jeery Wade--fellow in his firstlate fifties, no fluff-brain of a juvenee--a blood and thunderbaritone that'll lift that knob of hair clean off your scalp. Let'ssay you get here about six-thirty and I'll phone him we'll be over athis place for a session of hollering about eight."

  * * * * *

  Miss Noble's scorn needed no vizer to carry it over the wire in fullforce. "I'm not going to budge out of this house until after thedirector's meeting and then only if the shops stop all deliveryservice. This time I'm not taking any chances. Life is too much of abore to have to put up with it for another eighty years even for yourmarvelous singer who would probably go and get rejuvenated just as Igot to enjoy him. And _nothing_ could induce me to listen to anevening of your stories for the nine hundredth time. If there's onething I'm thankful for in this scatter-brained age, it's the marriagedissolution law that's got me free from your anecdotes after threeseparate terms of fifty years each."

  "Now, Barbara, was it that bad?" Roland Harris sounded distressed.

  "Do you really think I could be honestly grateful to the Corporationfor a hundred and fifty years of listening to that disgraceful oldthing about the Martian, the Venusian, and the robot?"

  "Well, if you feel that way about it, I'll keep my discoveries tomyself. I hope your fancy hallway keeps you safe till you rot."

  "It's doing all right," replied the old woman smugly. "I have a youngpup down there right now cooling his number thirteens and waiting topretend to interest me in some new face paint and hair gik. Myelectric eye set and vizer are less repulsive than your skunk oil and_twice_ as effective."

  "They're not going to stop me from having a good time while I la
st,anyhow. I think they're through with me for today; and I'm going tohear Jeery Wade, anyhow. He'll make up a hooting good song about allthis when I tell him."

  "Take care of yourself, Rod ... goodbye," said Miss Noble, almostconcernedly.

  She dropped the phone into its cradle, rose, and went back to thevizer screen, switching on the speaker as she sat down. Only then didshe notice that the screen was entirely dark except for a vague sliverof gray.

  "Are you still there, young man?" she asked the microphone.

  There was silence from the speaker. The hammer on each bar of the longmetal xylophone of the electric eye signal hung motionless.

  "He's gone ... and left the front door unlatched too. And I thought hewas persistent." She was disappointed. "He owes me four more minutesof fun."

  She got up slowly and started for the door. "That curly hair stuff isnew since my last sixties, too. I wonder if it would work on whitehair ... I'd better go down and close the door. Can't have justanybody coming into one's house."

  * * * * *

  She descended the stairs, opened the door from the front room, thentook one step forward into the hall. Before she could interpret thesoft bump of the salesman's bare feet as they struck the floor, shewas encircled by his strong arm; and the hiss of the anesthetic gunwas loud in the small area of the hall. Limply she sagged against hisarm.

  The hissing of the gun stopped. The