When Worlds Collide

by Philip Wylie

  He kissed her, long and deeply; and when he drew his lips away, he continued to stare down at her whispering words which she, with her lips almost at his, yet could not hear.

  “What is it, Tony?”

  “Only—an incantation, dear.”

  “What?” she asked; so he repeated it audibly:

  “‘A thousand shall fall beside thee, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee!’ Remember it, Eve?”

  “The psalmist!” whispered Eve.

  “He must have seen some one he loved, threatened,” said Tony. “‘For he shall give his angels charge over thee,’” he continued, “‘to keep thee in all thy ways.

  “‘They shall bear thee in their hands; that thou hurt not thy foot against a stone.’

  “It stayed in my head, hearing it at the church where Mother used to take me. I’d read it in the responses, too. I remember that, I suppose, because it’s beautiful—if no more.”

  “If no more,” said Eve; and very gently, she freed herself from him; for, far more faithfully than he, she heeded her father.

  He sighed. She looked up at him. “They tell me, Tony, that you kept the whole camp going single-handed,” she returned him to practical affairs.

  “I just rallied around and looked at people who were doing something and said: ‘Great! Go ahead.’ That’s all I did.”

  She laughed, proud of him. “You put heart in them all again. That’s you, Tony.… Did you know Professor Bronson is here?”

  “Yes; I saw him—spoke to him. Funny feeling I had, when I heard his name. Bronson—of the Bronson Bodies. It made him almost to blame for them. How did he happen to come?”

  “He’d arrived in the country and was almost here when the storm struck. He’s known about what was to happen, and he’s been figuring it out for a longer time than any one else. He’s had the highest respect for Father. Of course you know it was to Father that he sent his results. They had to get together, Father and he. They agreed it was better to work here than in South Africa; so he did the traveling. He’ll be invaluable—if we do get away.”

  “You mean, if we get away from the world.”

  “Yes. You see, Father’s chief work has been—and will be—on the Space Ship; how to get away from the world and reach Bronson Beta, when it returns.”

  “And before Bronson Alpha smashes us as it did the moon,” said Tony grimly.

  Eve nodded. “That’s all Father can possibly arrange—if not more. He can’t take any time to figuring how we’ll live, if we reach that other world. But Professor Bronson has been doing that for months. For more than a year he practically lived—in his mind—on Bronson Beta. So he’s here to make the right preparation for the party that goes on the ship: who they should be, what they should carry, and what they must do to live—if they land there.”

  In three days the static in the air vanished to such an extent that messages from various parts of the world became audible. Out of those messages a large map was constructed in the executive offices. It was a speculative map, and its accuracy was by no means guaranteed. It showed islands where Australia had been, two huge islands in the place of South America, and only the central and southern part of Europe and Asia. There was a blank in place of Africa, for no one knew what had happened to the Dark Continent. A few points of land were all that was left of the British Isles, and over the air came the terrible story of the last-minute flight from London across the Channel, in which the populace was overwhelmed on the Great Lowland Plain. Among the minor phenomena reported was the disappearance of the Great Lakes, which had been inclined from west to east and tipped like trays of water into the valley of the St. Lawrence. On the fifth day they learned that an airplane flight had been made over what was the site of New York. The Hudson River Valley was a deep estuary; the sea rolled up to Newburgh; and the entire coast along its new line was scoured with east-to-west-running valleys which were piled high with the wreckage of a mighty civilization. Everywhere were still fœtid plains of cooling lava; and in many areas, apparently, the flow from the earth had been not molten rock but metal, which lay in fantastic and solidified seas already red with rust.

  It was impossible to make any estimate whatsoever of the number of people who had survived the catastrophe. Doubtless the figure ran into scores of millions; but except in a few fortunate and prearranged places, they were destitute, disorganized and doomed to perish of hunger and exposure.

  On the tenth day the sun shone for the first time. It pierced the clouds for a few minutes only, and even at its strongest it was hazy, penetrating the belts of fog with scarcely enough strength to cast shadows.…

  At the end of two weeks it would have been difficult to tell that the settlement in Michigan had undergone any great cataclysm, save that the miniature precipice remained on the flying-field, and that great mounds of chocolate-colored earth were piled within view of the inhabitants.

  On the evening of the fifteenth day a considerable patch of blue sky appeared at twilight, and for three hours afforded a view of the stars. The astronomers took advantage of that extended opportunity to make observation of the Bronson Bodies, which had become morning stars, showing rims like the planet Venus as they moved between the earth and the sun.

  Carefully, meticulously, both by direct observation and by photographic methods, they measured and plotted the course of the two terrible strangers from space; and with infinitesimal differences, the results of all the observers were the same. Bronson Beta—the habitable world—on its return would pass by closer than before; but it would pass.

  There would be no escape from Bronson Alpha.

  In all the fifteen days the earth had not ceased trembling. Sometimes the shocks were violent enough to jar objects from shelves, but ordinarily they were so light as to be barely detectable.

  In all those fifteen days, furthermore, there had been no visitor to the camp from the outside world, and the radio station had contented itself for the most part with the messages it received, for fear that by giving its position and broadcasting its comparative security, it might be overwhelmed by a rush of desperate and starving survivors.

  At the end of three weeks one of the airplanes which had escaped the storm was put in condition, and Eliot James and Ransdell made a five-hundred-mile reconnaissance. At Hendron’s request the young author addressed the entire gathering in the dining-hall after his return. He held spellbound the thousand men and women who were thirsty for any syllable of information about the world over the horizon.

  “Mr. Ransdell and myself,” James began, “took our ship off the ground this morning at eight o’clock. We flew due north for about seventy-five miles. Then we made a circle of which that distance was the radius, covering the territory that formerly constituted parts of Michigan and Wisconsin.

  “I say ‘formerly,’ ladies and gentlemen, because the land which we observed has nothing to do with the United States as it once was, and our flight was like a journey of discovery. You have already been told that the Great Lakes have disappeared. They are, however, not entirely gone, and I should say that about one-third of Lake Superior, possibly now landlocked, remains in its bed.

  “The country we covered, as you doubtless know, was formerly heavily wooded and hilly. It contained many lakes, and was a mining center. I will make no attempt to describe the astonishing aspect of the empty lake-bed, the chasms and flat beaches which were revealed when the water uncovered them, or the broad cracks and crevices which stretch across the bed. I am unable to convey to you the utter desolation of the scene. It is easier, somewhat, to give an idea of the land over which we flew. Most of the forests have been burned away. Seams have opened underneath them, which are in reality mighty cañons, abysses in the naked earth. Steam pours from them and hovers in them. All about the landscape are fumaroles, hot springs, geysers and boiling wells.

  “In the course of our flight we observed the ruins of a moderate-sized town and of several villages. We also saw the charred re
mains of what we assumed were farms, and possibly lumber- and mining-camps. Not only have great clefts been made, but hills have been created, and in innumerable places the earth shows raw and multicolored—the purplish red of iron veins, the glaring white of quartz, the dark monotony of basalt intermingled in a giant’s conglomerate. I can only suggest the majesty and the unearthliness of the scene by saying it closely resembled my conception of what the lunar landscape must have been.

  “We observed a few areas which, like our own, were relatively undisturbed. There were a number of oases in this destruction where forests still stood, apparently sheltered from the hurricanes and in no danger of conflagration. This district, as you know, is sparsely settled. I will complete my wholly inadequate report to you by satisfying what must be your major curiosity: we saw in the course of our flying a number of human beings. Some of them wandered over this nude, tumultuous country alone and obviously without resources for their sustenance. Others were gathered together in small communities in the glades and sheltered places. They had fires going, and they were apparently secure at least for the time being. All of them attempted to attract our attention to themselves, and it is with regret that I must say that not only is their rescue inadvisable from the sheer necessity of our own self-preservation, but that in most cases it would be difficult if not impossible, as we found no place in which we might have landed a plane, if the surface of the water that remains in Lake Superior be excepted, and a few other ponds and lakes. And it would be difficult indeed to go on foot to the succor of those unfortunates.”

  After the speech, people crowded around James. Peter Vanderbilt, moving through the crowd, glimpsed Ransdell as he was walking through the front doors of the hall. The New Yorker stepped out on the porch beside the pilot; the sophisticated Manhattan dilettante with his smooth, graying hair, his worldly-wise and -weary eyes, his svelte accent, beside the rugged, tan-faced, blue-eyed, powerful adventurer. One, the product of millions, of Eastern universities and of society at its most sumptuous, the other a man whose entire resources always had been held in his own hands, and who had lived in a world of frontiers.

  “I wanted to ask you something,” Vanderbilt said. Ransdell turned, and as usual he did not speak but simply waited.

  “Has Hendron commissioned you to do any more flying?”

  “No.”

  “Do you think it would be possible to hop around the country during the next few months?”

  “With a good ship—an amphibian.”

  Vanderbilt tapped his cigarette-holder delicately against one of the posts on the porch. “You and I are both supernumeraries around here, in a sense. I was wondering if it might not be a good idea to make an expedition around the country and see for ourselves just what has happened. If this old planet is really going to be smashed,—and from the evidence furnished two weeks ago I’ll believe it,—yet there’s something to see on its surface still. Let’s look at it.”

  Ransdell thought inarticulately of Eve. He was drawn to her as never to any girl before; but, he reckoned, she must remain here. Not only that, but under the discipline which was clamped upon the settlement, no rival could claim her while he would be gone. And the adventure that Vanderbilt offered tremendously allured him.

  “I’d like to try it,” Ransdell replied simply.

  “Then I’ll see Hendron; we must have his consent, of course, to take a ship.”

  Ransdell was struck by a thought. “Shall we take James too? He’d join, I think.”

  “Excellent,” Vanderbilt accepted. “He could write up the trip. It would be ignominious, if any of us got to Bronson Beta, with no record of the real history of this old earth’s last days.”

  Together they broached the subject to Hendron. He considered them for several minutes without replying, and then said: “You realize, of course, that such an expedition will be extremely hazardous? You could carry fuel and provisions for a long flight, but nothing like what you’d need. You’d have to take pot-luck everywhere you went; gasoline would be almost impossible to find—what hasn’t leaked away must have been burned, for the most part; and whenever you set the ship down, you would be a target for any and every person lurking in the vicinity. The conditions prevailing, physically, socially and morally, must be wholly without precedent.”

  “That,” replied Vanderbilt calmly, “is precisely why we cannot be men and fear to study them.”

  “Exactly,” jerked Hendron; and he gazed at Ransdell.

  The gray-blue eyes fixed steadily on Hendron’s, and the scientist abruptly decided: “Very well, I’ll sanction it.”

  Ransdell and Vanderbilt knocked on the door of Eliot James’ room, from which issued the sound of typewriting. The poet swung wide the door and greeted them with an expression of pleasure. “What’s up?”

  They told him.

  “Go?” James repeated, his face alight with excitement. “Of course I’ll go. What a record to write—whether or not any one lives to read it!”

  Tony received the news with mingled feelings. He could not help an impulse of jealousy at not being chosen for the adventure; but he understood that Ransdell hardly would have selected him. Also, he realized that his position as vice to Hendron in command of the cantonment did not leave him free for adventure.

  Yet it was almost with shame that Tony assisted in the takeoff of the big plane two days later. Eve emerged from the crowd at the edge of the landing-field and walked to Ransdell; and Tony saw the light in her eyes which comes to a woman watching a man embark on high adventure. The very needlessness, the impracticalness of it, increased her feeling for him—a feeling not to be roused by a man performing a merely useful service, no matter how hazardous. Tony walked around to the other side of the plane and stayed there until Eve had said good-by to the pilot.

  The motor was turning over slowly. The mechanics had made their last inspection. The maximum amount of fuel had been taken aboard, and all provisions, supplies, ammunition, instruments and paraphernalia which were deemed needful. Many of the more prominent members of the colony were grouped near the plane shaking hands with Vanderbilt and Eliot James. Bronson was there, Dodson, Smith and a dozen more, besides Hendron. Vanderbilt’s farewells were debonair and light. “We’ll send you postcards picturing latest developments.” Eliot James was receiving last-minute advice from the scientists, who had burdened him with questions, the answers of which they wished him to discover by observation. Ransdell came around the fuselage of the plane, Eve behind him.

  He cast one look at the sky, where the heavy and still numerous clouds moved on a regular wind, and one at the available half of the landing-field, on which the sun shone tentatively.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  There were a few last handshakes; there was a shout as the chocks were removed from the wheels of the plane. It made a long bumpy run across the field, rose slowly, circled once over the heads of the waving throng, and gradually disappeared toward the south.

  Eve signaled Tony. “Aren’t they fine, those three men? Going off into nowhere like that.”

  Tony made his answer enthusiastic. “I never thought I’d meet three such people in my life—one, perhaps, but not three. And there are literally hundreds of people here who are capable of the same sort of thing.”

  Eve was still watching the plane. “I like Dave Ransdell.”

  “No one could help liking him,” Tony agreed.

  “He’s so interested in everything, and yet so aloof,” went on Eve, still watching. “In spite of all he’s been through with us, he’s still absolutely terrified of me.”

  “I can understand that,” said Tony grimly.

  “But you’ve never been that way around me.”

  “I didn’t show it that way; no. But I know—and you know—what it means.”

  “Yes, I know,” Eve replied simply.

  The sun, which had been shielded by a cloud, suddenly shone on them, and both glanced toward it.

  Off there to the side of the sun, hid
den by its glare, moved the Bronson Bodies on their paths which would cause them to circle the sun and return—one to pass close to the earth and the other to shatter the world—in little more than seven months more.

  “If they are away only thirty days, we’re not to count them missing,” Eve was saying—of the crew of the airplane, of course. “If they’re not back in thirty—we’re to forget them. Especially we’re not to send any one to search for them.”

  “Who said so?”

  “David. It’s the last thing he asked.”

  CHAPTER 16—THE SAGA

  THE thirty days raced by. Under the circumstances, time could not drag. Nine-tenths of the people at Hendron’s encampment spent their waking and sleeping hours under a death-sentence. No one could be sure of a place on the Space Ship. No one, in fact, was positive that the colossal rocket would be able to leave the earth. Every man, every woman, knew that in six months the two Bronson Bodies would return from their rush into the space beyond the sun; even the most sanguine knew that a contact was inevitable.

  Consequently every day, every hour, was precious to them. They were intelligent, courageous people. They collaborated in keeping up the general morale. The various department heads in the miniature city made every effort to occupy their colleagues and workers—and Hendron’s own foresight had assisted in the procedure.…

  The First Passage was followed by relative calm. As soon as order had been restored, a routine was set up. Every one had his or her duty. Those duties were divided into five parts: First, the preparation of the rocket itself; second, the preparation of the rocket’s equipment and load; third, observation of the receding and returning Bodies to determine their nature and exact course; fourth, maintenance of the life of the colony; fifth, miscellaneous occupations.

  Hendron, in charge of the first division, spent most of his time in the rocket’s vast hangar, the laboratories and the machine-shop. Bronson headed the second division. The third duty was shared by several astronomers; and in this division Eve, with her phenomenal skill in making precise measurements, was an important worker. The maintenance division was under the direction of Dodson, and under Dodson, a subcommittee headed by Jack Taylor took charge of sports and amusements. Tony was assigned to the miscellaneous category, as were the three absent adventurers.