a foot-of-the-gallows kind of smile.
"We know now who killed Ned," he whispered. "We know, fella. Take iteasy, relax."
My head was throbbing, but I could see the big prints from where Istood--the prints of a murderer betrayed by his insatiable urge to slay.
I saw Kenny pass, and he gave me a contemptuous grin. He had done hisbest to destroy me, but there was no longer any hate left in me.
I took a slow step forward--and fell flat on my face....
I woke up with my head in Molly's lap. She was looking down into myface, sobbing in a funny sort of way and running her fingers through myhair.
She looked startled when she saw that I was wide awake. She blinkedfuriously and started fumbling at her waist for a handkerchief.
"I must have passed out cold," I said. "It's quite a strain to be at thereceiving end of a lynching bee. And what I saw afterwards wasn'texactly pleasant."
"Darling," she whispered, "don't move, don't say a word. You're going tobe all right."
"You bet I am!" I said. "Right now I feel great."
My arm went around her shoulder, and I drew her head down until herbreath was warm on my face. I kissed her hair and lips and eyes for afull minute in utter recklessness.
When I released her her eyes were shining, and she was laughing a littleand crying too. "You've changed your mind," she said. "You believe menow, don't you?"
"Don't talk," I said. "Don't say another word. I just want to look atyou."
"It was you right from the start," she said. "Not Ned--or anyone else."
"I was a blind fool," I said.
"You never gave me a second glance."
"One glance was enough," I whispered. "But when I saw how it seemed tobe between you and Ned--"
"I was never in love with him. It was just--"
"Never mind, don't say it," I said. "It's over and done with."
I stopped, remembering. Her eyes grew wide and startled, and I could seethat she was remembering too.
"What happened?" I asked. "Did they catch that vicious rat?"
She brushed back her hair, the sunlight suddenly harsh on her face. "Hefell into the canal. The bullets brought him down, and he collapsed onthe bank."
Her hand tightened on my wrist. "Bill told me. He tried to swim, but thecurrent carried him under. He went down and never came up."
"I'm glad," I said. "Did anyone in the camp ever see him before?"
Molly shook her head. "Bill said he was a drifter--a dangerous maniacwho must have been crazed by the sun."
"I see," I said.
I reached out and drew her into my arms again, and we rested for amoment stretched out side by side on the sand.
"It's funny," I said after a while.
"What is?"
"You know what they say about the whispering. Sometimes when you listenintently you seem to hear words deep in your mind. As if the Martianshad telepathic powers."
"Perhaps they have," she said.
I glanced sideways at her. "Remember," I said. "There were cities onMars when our ancestors were hairy apes. The Martian civilization wasflourishing and great fifty million years before the pyramids arose as amonument to human solidarity and worth. A bad monument, built by slavelabor. But at least it was a start."
"Now you're being poetic, Tom," she said.
"Perhaps I am. The Martians must have had their pyramids too. And at thepyramid stage they must have had their Larsens, to shoulder all theguilt. To them we may still be in the pyramid stage. Suppose--"
"Suppose what?"
"Suppose they wanted to warn us, to give us a lesson we couldn't forget.How can we say with certainty that a dying race couldn't still make useof certain techniques that are far beyond us."
"I'm afraid I don't understand," she said, puzzled.
"Someday," I said, "our own science will take a tiny fragment of humantissue from the body of a dead man, put it into an incubating machine,and a new man will arise again from that tiny shred of flesh. A man whocan walk and live and breathe again, and love again, and die again afteranother full lifetime.
"Perhaps the Martian science was once as great as that. And the Martiansmight still remember a few of the techniques. Perhaps from our humanbrains, from our buried memories and desires, they could filch the keyand bring to horrible life a thing so monstrous and so terrible--"
Her hand went suddenly cold in mine. "Tom, you can't honestly think--"
"No," I said. "It's nonsense, of course. Forget it."
I didn't tell her what the whispering had seemed to say, deep in mymind.
_We've brought you Larsen! You wanted Larsen, and we've made him foryou! His flesh and his mind--his cruel strength and his wicked heart!Here he comes, here he is! Larsen, Larsen, Larsen!_
Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from _Fantastic Universe_ January 1954. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note.
The Man the Martians Made Page 5