will."
He sat up. "Phil," he muttered. "Phil and Rhona." They'd had wonderfultimes together, from grammar school on. Phil and Rhona, their oldest andclosest friends. Perhaps this would begin his real homecoming.
Do the town? They'd paint it and then tear it down!
* * * * *
It didn't turn out that way. He was disappointed; but then again, he'dalso expected it. This entire first day at home had conditioned him toexpect nothing good. They went to the bowling alleys, and Phil soundedvery much the way he always had--soft spoken and full of laughter andfull of jokes. He patted Edith on the head the way he always had, andclapped Hank on the shoulder (but not the way he always had--so muchmore gently, almost remotely), and insisted they all drink more than wasgood for them as he always had. And for once, Hank was ready to go alongon the drinking. For once, he matched Phil shot for shot, beer for beer.
They didn't bowl very long. At ten o'clock they crossed the road toManfred's Tavern, where Phil and the girls ordered sandwiches and coffeeand Hank went right on drinking. Edith said something to him, but hemerely smiled and waved his hand and gulped another ounce of nirvana.
There was dancing to a juke box in Manfred's Tavern. He'd been theremany times before, and he was sure several of the couples recognizedhim. But except for a few abortive glances in his direction, it was asif he were a stranger in a city halfway around the world.
At midnight, he was still drinking. The others wanted to leave, but hesaid, "I haven't danced with my girl Rhona." His tongue was thick, hismind was blurred, and yet he could read the strange expression on herface--pretty Rhona, who'd always flirted with him, who'd made a ritualof flirting with him. Pretty Rhona, who now looked as if she were goingto be sick.
"So let's rock," he said and stood up.
They were on the dance floor. He held her close, and hummed and chatted.And through the alcoholic haze saw she was a stiff-smiled, stiff-bodied,mechanical dancing doll.
The number finished; they walked back to the booth. Phil said,"Beddy-bye time."
Hank said, "First one dance with my loving wife."
He and Edith danced. He didn't hold her close as he had Rhona. He waitedfor her to come close on her own, and she did, and yet she didn't.Because while she put herself against him, there was something in herface--no, in her eyes; it always showed in the eyes--that made him knowshe was trying to be the old Edith and not succeeding. This time whenthe music ended, he was ready to go home.
They rode back to town along Route Nine, he and Edith in the rear ofPhil's car, Rhona driving because Phil had drunk just a little too much,Phil singing and telling an occasional bad joke, and somehow not his oldself. No one was his old self. No one would ever be his old self withthe First One.
They turned left, to take the short cut along Hallowed Hill Road, andPhil finished a story about a Martian and a Hollywood sex queen andlooked at his wife and then past her at the long, cast-iron fenceparalleling the road. "Hey," he said, pointing, "do you know why that'sthe most popular place on earth?"
Rhona glanced to the left, and so did Hank and Edith. Rhona made alittle sound, and Edith seemed to stop breathing, but Phil went on awhile longer, not yet aware of his supposed _faux pas_.
"You know why?" he repeated, turning to the back seat, the laughterrumbling up from his chest. "You know why, folks?"
Rhona said, "Did you notice Carl Braken and his wife at--"
Hank said, "No, Phil, why is it the most popular place on earth?"
Phil said, "Because people are--" And then he caught himself and wavedhis hand and muttered, "I forgot the punch line."
"Because people are dying to get in," Hank said, and looked through thewindow, past the iron fence, into the large cemetery at the fleetingtombstones.
The car was filled with horrified silence when there should have beennothing but laughter, or irritation at a too-old joke. "Maybe you shouldlet me out right here," Hank said. "I'm home--or that's what everyoneseems to think. Maybe I should lie down in an open grave. Maybe thatwould satisfy people. Maybe that's the only way to act, like Dracula oranother monster from the movies."
Edith said, "Oh, Hank, don't, don't!"
The car raced along the road, crossed a macadam highway, went fourblocks and pulled to a stop. He didn't bother saying good night. Hedidn't wait for Edith. He just got out and walked up the flagstone pathand entered the house.
* * * * *
"Hank," Edith whispered from the guest room doorway, "I'm so sorry--"
"There's nothing to be sorry about. It's just a matter of time. It'llall work out in time."
"Yes," she said quickly, "that's it. I need a little time. We all need alittle time. Because it's so strange, Hank. Because it's so frightening.I should have told you that the moment you walked in. I think I've hurtyou terribly, we've all hurt you terribly, by trying to hide that we'refrightened."
"I'm going to stay in the guest room," he said, "for as long asnecessary. For good if need be."
"How could it be for good? How, Hank?"
That question was perhaps the first firm basis for hope he'd had sincereturning. And there was something else; what Carlisle had told him,even as Carlisle himself had reacted as all men did.
"There are others coming, Edith. Eight that I know of in the tanks rightnow. My superior, Captain Davidson, who died at the same moment Idid--seven months ago next Wednesday--he's going to be next. He wassmashed up worse than I was, so it took a little longer, but he's almostready. And there'll be many more, Edith. The government is going to saveall they possibly can from now on. Every time a young and healthy manloses his life by accident, by violence, and his body can be recovered,he'll go into the tanks and they'll start the regenerative brain andorgan process--the process that made it all possible. So people have toget used to us. And the old stories, the old terrors, the ugly oldsuperstitions have to die, because in time each place will have some ofus; because in time it'll be an ordinary thing."
Edith said, "Yes, and I'm so grateful that you're here, Hank. Pleasebelieve that. Please be patient with me and Ralphie and--" She paused."There's one question."
He knew what the question was. It had been the first asked him byeveryone from the president of the United States on down.
"I saw nothing," he said. "It was as if I slept those six and a halfmonths--slept without dreaming."
She came to him and touched his face with her lips, and he wassatisfied.
Later, half asleep, he heard a dog howling, and remembered stories ofhow they announced death and the presence of monsters. He shivered andpulled the covers closer to him and luxuriated in being safe in his ownhome.
THE END
The First One Page 3