by Andre Norton
But all she could see was the lake. And, fast conquering her resistance, was the knowledge that she must get up—yes, right now—and go to the lake.
She was crying, so afraid of this thing which had taken over her will, was making her do what she shrank from, that she was shivering uncontrollably as she slid from the bed.
It was then that she saw the eyes!
At first they seemed only pricks of yellow down at floor level, where she had put the pan of water for Ulysses. But when they moved—!
Jill grabbed for the flashlight. Her hands were so slippery with sweat that she almost dropped it. Somehow she got it focused on the pan, pushed the button.
There was something squatting in the pan, slopping the water out on the floor as it flopped back and forth, its movements growing wilder. But save for general outlines—she could hardly see it.
“Breathe—I can't breathe!” Jill's hoarse whisper brought another small growl from Ulysses. But she could breathe, there was no smog here. This was a Clear Outside. What was the matter—?
It was not her—some door in her own mind seemed to open—it was the thing over there flopping in the pan—it couldn't breathe—had to have water—
Jill scuttled for the door, giving the pan and the flopper a wide berth. She laid the flashlight on the floor, slipped around the door and padded towards the kitchen. The cupboard was on the right, that was where she had seen the big kettle when Aunt Abby had talked about canning.
There was moonlight in the kitchen, enough to let her find the cupboard, bring out the kettle. Then—fill it—she worked as noiselessly as she could. Not too full or it would be too heavy for her to carry—
As it was, she slopped water over the edge all the way back to the bedroom. Now—
The floppings in the pan had almost stopped. Jill caught her breath at the feeling inside her—the thing was dying. Fighting her fear and repulsion, Jill somehow got across the room, snatched up the pan before she could let her horror of what it held affect her and tipped all its contents into the kettle. There was an alien touch against her fingers as it splashed in. But—she could hardly see it now!
She knelt by the kettle, took the torch and shone it into the depths.
It—it was like something made of glass! She could see the bulbous eyes, they were solid, and some other parts, but the rest seemed to melt right into the water.
Jill gave a small sound of relief. That compulsion which had held her to the creature's need was lifted. She was free.
She sat back on her heels by the kettle, still shining the torch at the thing. It had flopped about some at first, but now it was settled quietly at the bottom.
A sound out of the dark, Ulysses poked his head over the other side of the kettle to survey its inhabitant. He did not growl, and he stood so for only a moment or two before going to jump back on the bed with the air of one willing to return to sleep now that all the excitement was over.
For a time the thing was all right, Jill decided. She was more puzzled than alarmed now. Her acquaintance with things living Outside was so small, only through reading and what she had learned from Marcy and observation these past days. But how had the thing made her wake up, know what it had to have to live? She could not remember ever having known that things which were not people could think you into doing what they wanted.
When she was very little—the old fairy tale book which had been her mother's—a story about a frog who was really a prince. But that was only a story. Certainly this almost transparent thing would never have been a person!
It came from the lake, she was sure of that from the first picture in her mind after she woke up. And it wanted to go back there.
Tonight?
Almost as if she had somehow involuntarily asked a question! A kind of urgency swept into her mind in answer. Yes—now— now! It was answering her as truly as if it had come to the surface of the water and shouted back at her.
To go out in the night? Jill cringed. She did not dare, she simply could not. Yet now the thing—it was doing as it had before—pushing her into taking it back.
Jill fought with all the strength of will she had. She could not go down to the lake now—
But she was gasping—the thing—it was making her feel again something of what if felt—its earlier agony had been only a little relieved by the bringing of the kettle. It had to be returned to the lake and soon.
Slowly Jill got up and began to dress. She was not even sure she could find the way by night. But the thing would give her no peace. At last, lugging the kettle with one hand, holding the flash in the other, she edged out into the night.
There were so many small sounds—different kinds of bugs maybe, and some birds. Before the bad times there had been animals—before the Cleanup when most everything requiring air men could use had been killed. Maybe—here in the Outside there were animals left.
Better not think of that! Water sloshing over the rim of the kettle at every step, Jill started on the straightest line possible for the lake. When she got behind the first screen of bushes she turned on the flash and found the now familiar way. But she could not run as she wished, she had to go slowly to avoid a fall on this rough ground.
So she reached the bank of the lake. The moon shone so brightly she snapped off the flash. Then she was aware of movement—the edges of the thick banks of vegetation which had grown from the lake bottom to close over the water were in constant motion, a rippling. Portions of leaf and stem were torn away, floating out into the clear patches, where they went into violent agitation and were pulled completely under. But there was no sign of what was doing this.
In—in! The thought was like a shout in her mind. Jill set down the torch, took the kettle in both hands, dumped its contents down the bank.
Then, fully released from the task the thing had laid upon her, she grabbed for the flash and ran for the house, the empty kettle banging against her legs. Nor did her heart stop its pounding until she was back in bed, Ulysses once more warm and heavy along her leg, purring a little when she reached down to smooth his fur.
Marcy had news in the morning.
“Those Williamses are going to try to blow up the lake, they're afraid something poisonous is out there. Beeny is clear out of his head and all the Williamses went into town to get a dynamite permit.”
“They—they can't do that!” Though Jill did not understand at first her reason for that swift denial.
Marcy was eyeing her. “What do you know about it?”
Jill told her of the night's adventure.
“Let's go see—right now!” was Marcy's answer.
Then Jill discovered curiosity overran the traces of last night's fear.
“Look at that, just look at that!” Marcy stared at the lake. The stretches of open water were well marked this morning. All that activity last night must have brought this about.
“If those invisible things are cutting out all the weeds,” Marcy observed, “then they sure are doing good. It was those old weeds which started a lot of the trouble. Dad says they got in so thick they took out the oxygen and then the fish and things died but the weeds kept right on. Towards the last, some of the men who had big houses on the other side of the lake tried all sorts of things. They even got new kinds of fish they thought would eat the weeds and dumped those in—brought them from Africa and South America and places like that. But it didn't do any good. Most of the fish couldn't live here and just died—and others—I guess there weren't enough of them.”
“Invisible fish?” If there was a rational explanation for last night, Jill was only too eager to have it.
Marcy shook her head. “Never heard of any like those. But they'd better make the most of their time. When the Williamses bomb the lake—”
“Bomb it?”
“Use the dynamite—like bombing.”
“But they can't!” Jill wanted to scream that loud enough so that the Williamses ‘way off in their mucky old house could hear every word. “I'm going
to tell Uncle Shaw—right now!”
Marcy trailed behind her to the house. It was going to take almost as much courage to go into Uncle Shaw's forbidden quarters as it did to transport the kettle to the lake. But just as that had to be done, so did this.
She paused outside the kitchen. Aunt Abby was busy there, and if they went in, she would prevent Jill's reaching Uncle Shaw. They had better go around the house to the big window.
To think that was easier than to do so, the bushes were so thick. But Jill persisted with strength she did not know she had until she came to use it. Then she was looking into the long room. There were books, some crowded on shelves, but others in untidy piles on the floor, and a long table with all kinds of things on it.
But in a big chair Uncle Shaw was sitting, just sitting— staring straight at the window. There was no change in his expression, it was as if he did not see Jill.
She leaned forward and rapped on the pane, and his head jerked as if she had awakened him. Then he frowned and motioned her to go away. But Jill did as she would not have dared to do a day earlier, stood her ground, and pointed to the window, made motions to open it.
After a long moment Uncle Shaw got up, moving very slowly as if it were an effort. He came and opened the long window, which had once been a door onto the overgrown patio.
“Go away,” he said flatly.
Jill heard a rustle behind her as if Marcy were obeying. But she stood her ground, though her heart was beating fast again.
“You've got to stop them,” she said in a rush.
“Stop them—stop who—from doing what?” He talked slowly as he had moved.
“Stop them from bombing the lake. They'll kill all the invisibles—”
Now his eyes really saw her, not just looked at something which was annoying him.
“Jill—Marcy—” he said their names. “What are you talking about?”
“The Williamses, they're going to bomb the lake on account of what happened to Beeny,” Jill said as quickly as she could, determined to make him hear this while he seemed to be listening to her. “That'll kill all the invisibles. And they're eating off the weeds—or at least they break them off and pull them out and sink them or something. There's a lot more clear water this morning.”
“Clear water?” He came out, breaking a way through the bush before the window. “Show me—and then tell me just what you are talking about.”
It was when Uncle Shaw stood on the lake bank and they pointed out the clear water that Jill told of Ulysses’ hunting and its results in detail. He stopped her from time to time to make her repeat parts, but she finally came to the end.
“You see—if they bomb the lake—then the invisibles— they'll all be dead!” she ended.
“You say it talked to you—in your mind—” For the third time he returned to that part of her story. She was beginning to be impatient. The important thing was to stop the Williamses, not worry over what happened last night.
“Not talked exactly, it made me feel bad just like it was feeling, just as if I were caught where a breather broke down. It was horrible!”
“Needed water— Yet by your account it had been quite a long time out of it.”
She nodded. “Yes, it needed water awfully bad. It was flopping around in the pan I put down for Ulysses. Then I got the kettle for it, but that wasn't enough either—it needed the lake. When I brought it down—there was all that tearing at the weeds—big patches pulled loose and sunk. But if the Williamses—”
He had been looking over her head at the water. Then he turned abruptly. “Come on!” was the curt order he threw at them and they had to trot fast to keep at his heels.
It was Marcy's house they went to, Marcy's Dad she was told to retell her story to. When she had done, Uncle Shaw looked at Major Scholar.
“What do you think, Price?”
“There were those imports Jacques Brazan bought—”
“Something invisible in water, but something which can live out of it for fairly long stretches of time. Something that can ‘think’ a distress call. That sound like any of Brazan's pets?”
“Come to think of it, no. But what do you have then, Shaw? Nothing of the old native wildlife fits that description either.”
“A wild, very wild guess.” Uncle Shaw rubbed his hands together. “So wild you might well drag me in with Beeny, so I won't even say it yet. What did Brazan put in?”
“Ought to be in the records.” Major Scholar got a notebook out of his desk. “Here it is—” He ran his finger down a list. “Nothing with any remote resemblance. But remember Arthur Pierce? He went berserk that day and dumped his collection in the lake.”
“He had some strange things in that! No listing though—”
“Dad,” Marcy spoke up. “I remember Dr. Pierce's big aquarium. There was a fish that walked on its fins out of water, it could jump, too. He showed me once when I was little, just after we came here.”
“Mudskipper!” Her father nodded. “Wait—” He went to a big bookcase and started running his finger along under the titles of the books. “Here—now—” He pulled out a book and slapped it open on the desk.
“Mudskipper—but—wait a minute! Listen here, Shaw!” He began to read, skipping a lot. “ ‘Pigmy goby—colorless except for eyes—practically transparent in water'—No, this is only three-eighths of an inch long—”
“It was a lot bigger,” protested Jill. “Too big for the pie pan I had for Ulysses. It flopped all over in that trying to get under the water.”
“Mutant—just maybe,” Uncle Shaw said. “Which would fit in with that idea of mine.” But he did not continue to explain, saying instead:
“Tonight, Price, we're going fishing!”
He was almost a different person, Jill decided. Just as if the Uncle Shaw she had known since she arrived had been asleep and was now fully awake.
“But the Williamses are going to bomb—” she reminded him.
“Not now—at least not yet. This is important enough to pull a few strings, Price. Do you think we can still pull them?”
Major Scholar laughed. “One can always try, Shaw. I'm laying the smart money all on you.”
After dark they gathered at the lake edge. Uncle Shaw and Major Scholar had not said Jill and Marcy could not go too, so they were very much there, and also Aunt Abby and Mrs. Scholar.
But along the beds of vegetation there was no whirling tonight. Had—had she dreamed it, Jill began to wonder apprehensively. And what would Uncle Shaw, Major Scholar, say when no invisibles came?
Then—just as it had shot into her mind last night from the despairing captive in the pan—she knew!
“They won't come,” she said with conviction. “Because they know that you have that—that you want to catch them!” She pointed to the net, the big kettle of water they had waiting. “They are afraid to come!”
“How do they know?” Uncle Shaw asked quietly. He did not say he didn't believe her, as she expected him to.
“They—somehow they know when there's danger.”
“All right.” He had been kneeling on the bank, now he stood up. But he stooped again and threw the net behind him, kicked out and sent the water cascading out of the kettle. “We're not going to try to take them.”
“But—” Major Scholar began to protest and then said in another tone, “I see—see what you mean—we reacted in the old way—making the same old mistake.”
They were all standing now and the moon was beginning to silver the lake. Suddenly there was movement along the edge of the beds, the water rippled, churned. The invisibles were back.
Uncle Shaw held out his hands. One of them caught Jill's in a warm grip, with the other he held Aunt Abby's.
“I think, Price, perhaps—just perhaps we have been given another chance. If we can step out of the old ways enough to take it—no more mistakes—”
“Perhaps so, Shaw.”
“You won't let the Williamses—” began Jill.
“No!
” That word was as sharp and clear as a shout. It even seemed to echo over the moon-drenched water, where there was that abundant rippling life. “Not now, not ever—I promise you that!” But Jill thought he was not answering her but what was in the water.
“The moon is very bright tonight—” Aunt Abby spoke a little hesitatingly.
“Perhaps it calls to its own. Pierce's creatures may have provided the seed, but remember,” Uncle Shaw said slowly, “there was something else down there—”
“Those moon rocks!” Marcy cried.
“Shaw, surely you don't think—!” Major Scholar sounded incredulous.
“Price, I'm not going to think right now, the time has come to accept. If Wilson's suspicions were the truth and those bits of rock from the last pickup had some germ of life locked into them—a germ which reacted on this—then think, man, what the rest of the lunar harvest might mean to this world now!”
“And we know just where—”
Uncle Shaw laughed. “Yes, Price. Since they are now dusty and largely forgotten why shouldn't we make a little intelligent use of them right here. Then watch what happens in a world we befouled! It could be our answer is right up there and we were too blind to see it!”
On the lake the moonlight was shivered into a thousand fragments where the invisibles were at work.
THE LONG NIGHT OF WAITING
* * *
* * *
What—what are we going to do?” Lesley squeezed her hands so tightly together they hurt. She really wanted to run as far and as fast as she could.
Rick was not running. He stood there, still holding Alex's belt, just as he had grabbed his brother to keep him from following Matt. Following him where?
“We won't do anything,” Rick answered slowly.
“But people’ll ask—all kinds of questions. You only have to look at that—” Lesley pointed with her chin to what was now before them.
Alex still struggled for freedom. “Want Matt!” he yelled at the top of his voice. He wriggled around to beat at Rick with his fists.