“It did know a lot, though, about human minds. In fact, its power over them and its amazing selectivity make me suspect that the original gene from which the organism developed might once have been human or close to it.
“The water image was the lake’s first attempt to fight off mankind. The attempt failed. In other words an imitation wouldn’t do. But the real thing was close at hand for experimentation.
“What happened next no one will ever know. Logically the organism must have moved forward another step in its defense against invasion by mankind. In effect it created antibodies. It was inoculating itself with the virus of humanity in an effort to immunize itself against a later attack.
“But it had to effect a change in the humans before it could absorb them. Physically they must be changed to live under tile lake and mentally they had to alter radically to stay there of their own will. It was their will the lake attacked. You saw that.
“I said before that something had apparently been washed from the mind of that girl we saw and some other basic drive substituted in her. I believe now I was nearer the truth than I guessed.” He looked at me keenly, almost speculatively.
“If I were in a spot like that,” he said, “with the problem of altering a human being’s whole emotional outlook, I think I’d strike straight at the root. It would be much simpler than trying to blanket his impulses with anything like hypnotism, for instance.
“I think that for the instinct of self-preservation those people now have another drive—instinct for the preservation of the Organism. It would be so simple, and it would work so well.”
THERE was a roaring in my ears. For a moment I heard nothing of what Sales said. The flood-gates had opened and through the backflung doors all my memories were pouring.
“But it hasn’t worked perfectly,” Sales was saying from far away. “Unless the lake goes a step further, we can destroy it Perhaps it has. Perhaps it realizes that static antibodies which can’t exist outside its own bloodstreams won’t help much.
“Do you think, chief, that it might have captured still other humans and worked its basic change in their minds? Could it have implanted in men like yourself a shift in instinct so that you know only one basic drive—the Organism must be preserved?”
The idea had struck him suddenly. I could see that in his face as he leaned forward across the desk, half rising, his features congesting with the newness and the terrible danger of the thought.
I didn’t even get up from my chair. I’d had my revolver out on my knee for the past several minutes, though he couldn’t see it from where he sat.
I shot him at close range, through the chest.
For a moment he hung there above the desk, his hands gripping the blotter convulsively. He had one thing more to say but it was hard for him to get it out. He tried twice before he made it.
“You—it’s no good,” he said very thinly.
“Can’t—stop me now. I’ve sent—full report—Mobile Staff—reading It now.”
Blood cut off whatever else he wanted to say. I watched impersonally as it bubbled from his lips and he collapsed forward into the scarlet puddle forming so fast on the desk top. I saw how the blotter took it up at first but the fountain ran too fast and finally a trickle began to spill over the desk edge and patter on the floor with a sound like the dripping of lake water from that girl’s garments as she crossed the rocks toward us.
The lake was blue and wonderful in the sunlight. It was the most important thing in the world. If anything happened to destroy it I knew the world would end in that terrible, crashing moment. All my mind and all my effort must be dedicated to protecting it from the danger threatening it now.
A knock at the door banished that vision. I sprang to my feet and blocked off the desk from sight.
Davidson lunged into the room, slammed the door, put his back to it. He was breathing hard.
“They’re after you, Jim,” he said. “They know about Williams.”
I nodded. I knew too, now. I knew why my mind had gone blank when the need to silence Williams was paramount. At that time it wasn’t safe for me to remember too much. It wasn’t safe for me to know too much about my own actions, my own motives. Oh yes, I had killed him, all right.
“You knew all along?” I asked him. He nodded.
“You’ve got to do something quick, Jim,” he said. “I tell you, they’re coming! They know we were there together and they’re almost certain you did it. Fingerprints, bullet type—think of something, Jim! I—”
There was a heavy blow on the door behind him. He wasn’t expecting it. He jolted forward into the room and the door slammed back against the wall. What looked like a tide of black uniforms poured through, Lewis at the front, his granite face set, his eyes like steel on mine.
“Want to ask you some questions, Owen,” he began. “We have reason to think you know more than—”
Then he saw what lay across the desk behind me. There was an instant of absolute silence in the room. Davidson had been hurled past me by the slamming open of the door and the first sound I heard was his gasp of intaken breath as he leaned over the chair from which I’d risen.
My mind was perfectly blank. I knew it was desperately imperative that I clear myself but I’d had too many shocks, one on another, all that day. My brain just wasn’t working any more.
I had to say something. I took a deep breath and opened my mouth, praying for the right words.
Davidson’s hand closed on my arm. It was a hard, violent grasp, but very quickly, before his next move, he pressed my biceps three times, rapid, warning squeezes. Then he completed his motion and hurled me aside so hard I staggered three paces across the rug and came up facing him, stupid with surprise.
He had scooped up the revolver which I had dropped in my chair. I saw his fingers move over the butt as if for a firmer grip. But I knew what he was doing. His prints would have effaced mine when the time came to test it.
“All right, Lewis,” he said quietly. “I did it. I shot them both.” His glance shifted from face to face. When it crossed mine I recognized the desperate appeal in his eyes. It was up to me. I couldn’t refuse this last offer of aid from him, in the service of a cause greater than any cause men ever fought for.
I knew the truth of that as I knew my own name. There could be no greater cause than the protection of the lake.
A look of wildness which I knew was deliberate suddenly convulsed his face. He lifted the revolver and fired straight at me.
EXCEPT—it wasn’t straight. Davidson was a good shot. He couldn’t miss at this range unless he meant to. The bullet sang past my ear and shattered something noisy behind me. And I saw the look of deep satisfaction relax his face an instant before Lewis’ bullet smashed into it, erasing his features in a crimson blur.
(He had to fire the gun at someone—I think he remembered that wax-tests would otherwise prove he hadn’t fired one recently. And it might as well be at me, to clear me of suspicion. Perhaps too he knew he couldn’t make his story stand under close questioning. So it was suicide, in a way, but suicide in a cause of tremendous, unquestionable rightness. That I knew in the deepest recesses of my mind.) . . .
“All right, Owen. You give the word. Where would you say it’s most vulnerable?” Was Lewis watching me with irony in his keen eyes as he asked it? For that question of all others was the one I could not answer. Physically could not, even had I wished. I think my tongue would have turned backward in my throat and strangled me, if need be, before I could tell them the truth.
“Make another circle,” I said. “I’ll look it over once more.”
Five hundred feet below us the lake lay blue and placid. Seen from this height the majestic cliffs above it were foreshortened into insignificance, but I knew that deep beneath those rocks lay the vital cavern which no bombs must touch.
There was no sign of the mindless men and women which It had used and discarded. The antitoxin premise was no longer valid. But the next step, to a bacte
riophage which would seek out and devour the virus of attack—that must not fail. I well knew what my task was.
“Try the shallows over here,” I said, pointing. The ship circled and Lewis presently raised his hand.
The depth-bombs floated away behind us in a long, falling drift. They were not, I knew, merely depth bombs. Sales’ memorandum had worked its recorder’s will too fast for me. I had silenced the doctor but I could not silence the records. I watched the falling bombs with a sickness in my heart that was near despair.
“The Organism has no white blood-cells,” Sales had reported to the Staff, his dead voice speaking the words of my own destruction in the very moment I killed him. “I believe it can be eradicated if we infect it thoroughly with a culture of every microbe and bacterium we can pour into it. The chances are something will take hold.
“H it doesn’t, then we’ll have to try until something does. I would suggest depth bombs. What tests I have made so far indicate the so-called water of the lake is in effect a thick skin which has so far protected the Organism from the entry of ordinary infection.
“The depth charges would serve the purpose of a hypodermic needle in introducing our. weapons where they may take effect. Down there under the surface something must lie which is the heart of the dangerous being, something we have not yet seen. But destroy it we must, before it mutates any further, into a thing nothing could cope with.”
When the first bombs burst, they might have been bursting in my own brain. Only dimly I saw the blue water fountain toward us.
We circled, watching. The water poured itself over that terrible wound. Ripples ran sluggishly out around it toward shore. It seemed to me there was a flush in the water where those death-laden charges had fallen, but if there was, something working in the lake effaced it, washed out the toxins, healed and soothed the danger away.
I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Where next, Owen?” Lewis demanded relentlessly and I knew my ordeal had only begun. Desperation was welling up in me. How long could I drag this out? Sooner or later we would work our way around to the danger-area and this helpless being below us would die in an unimaginable agony—unimaginable to all but myself.
“Try over there,” I said, pointing at random, seeing my hand shake as I held it out. I shut the fingers into a fist to stop their trembling.
How long it went on I could not remember afterward. There comes a point when flesh and blood can record no further and, mercifully for me, I reached that point after a while. By then I knew what the end must be, no matter how long I postponed it. I had done what a man could but it wasn’t enough. The lake and I were helpless together and I knew—it was soothing to be sure—that we would in the end die together.
ROUND after round we made above the shuddering blue water. Charge after charge dropped, splashed, vanished, fountained up again. From shore to shore the lake was racked by interlocking ripples from those dreadful wounds. Sometimes the poisons the bombs carried were washed out and dissolved, but as time went on, more and more often they started great spreading circles of infection that traced iridescence upon the water.
Yellow virulence rippled shoreward and crossed ripples running from circles of angry crimson. The color of bruises mingled with the color of blood and the shuddering lake shivered no more than I, but in me it was a hidden shuddering. It had to be hidden.
At least it wasn’t I who pointed out the heart of the lake. That happened by sheer accident. It had to come sooner or later and after a long while it came.
Deep under the cliffs that shadowy blue cavern which I had never seen was riven asunder by a burst of white fire. And that which lay coiled in it was riven too, blinded and agonized by the tearing of the explosion and the quick avid onslaught of the disease it could not fight.
The first we saw from above was the ominous shadow suddenly uncoiling from beneath the cliff. It lashed out like a gigantic serpent, a Midgard Serpent that clasped the world in its embrace. Convulsively it unwound itself from that shadowed cavern and burst into the open in an agonized series of spasms that made the lake boil around it.
The men around me broke into a hoarse, triumphant shouting. If I could have done it I would have killed them all. But it was hopeless now. I had no longer even the will to revenge. When a man’s basic instinct dies within him he ceases intrinsically to be a man at all.
The water frothed and boiled beneath us. We lost sight of whatever it was that lashed fee lake in its death-frenzy. I knew but I would not look or think. I had failed and I was ready now for death along with my dying master.
Very dimly I heard Lewis giving orders for the whole area to be bombed systematically to wipe out any lingering vestiges of fee thing which had died here. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.
I was an automaton, going through the motions of a man until I could shut them out at last and take from my locked file drawer fee little revolver I kept there. In a way I envied Davidson. He at least had died for a purpose, trusting me to make his sacrifice not in vain.
I had failed him, too. I had failed myself.
I had no more reason to live.
I put the muzzle of fee revolver against my head.
And then—and then I found I could not pull fee trigger! Something stopped me, some deep command in a level of the mind below conscious recognition. For an instant of frantic hope my reason tried to tell me that it was all a mistake, that there had not, after all, been wrought upon me that change which turned me from a human to an instrument in the command of another will.
Was it self-preservation, after all, that stayed my hand? If I had that I was free.
No—it was not self-preservation. In the next instant I knew and for one immeasurable moment the hope I had so briefly cherished flickered and then went out and was swallowed up in a great surge of command.
It was not dead. It lay far down in subterranean waters, buried, waiting, depending upon me, commanding me to stay the hand that would destroy it with me. I must live. I must serve it.
One deep wave of sick regret swept me in those levels of the mind where human reason dwelt. If only I had pulled the trigger an instant sooner, before that command came!
It was too late. And now a warm, confident cunning began to well into my mind from that far-away source of command. It could wait I could wait I could recruit where I must and It would help me to make others like myself, until our ranks were strong enough.
I had not wholly failed but until I fulfilled my duty I must obey. Obedience would be a pleasure and a joy, the insidious voice promised me. Good and faithful servant, the whisper said, work for my kingdom upon Earth and your rewards will be delightful beyond imagination.
I got up aid locked the revolver away again. Turning back, I caught my reflection in a mirror on fee wall and paused there, staring deep into my own eyes.
I smiled . . .
DARK DAWN
Blinded by an atomic blast, Dan Gresham joins forces with the radiant Swimmers to preserve an undersea civilization!
THE Albacore was eight hundred miles out of Suva, feeling her way through the Pacific toward a destination unmarked except on the charts. She was a Navy cruiser jury-rigged into a floating laboratory, Navy manned, but carrying a dozen specialized technicians as passengers.
For days she had waited outside the danger area, till circling planes radioed word that the test atomic blast had apparently subsided. Then the Albacore went into a flurry of preparations. It was a miracle that the watch had sighted Gresham in his rubber boat, and a triple miracle that he was alive.
His eyes bandaged, he sat out on deck, addle Black, the neurologist, leaned on the rail beside him and stared aft Presently Black took out a pack of cigarettes, automatically held it out to Gresham, and then remembered that the man was blind. “Cigarette?” he said.
“Yes, thanks. Is that you, Dr. Black?” Gresham’s voice was very low.
“Uh-huh. Here. I was watching that shark. He’s followed us from Suva.”
&
nbsp; “Big one?”
“One of the biggest I ever saw,” Black said. “That’s the baby who tried to take a chunk out of you when we picked you up. He kept luting at our oars!”
“A pity he didn’t get me,” Gresham said. He tossed the cigarette away. “No use. If I can’t see the smoke, I can’t enjoy it.”
The neurologist studied his patient. “We don’t know that you’re permanently blinded, after all. This is so new.”
“I was looking straight at it,” Gresham said bitterly. “It must have been miles and miles away, but I could feel it burning my eyes out in one flash. Don’t tell me!”
“All right. I won’t. But this is a completely new type of atomic blast. It isn’t uranium. It’s a controlled chain reaction based on an artificial element—there must be new types of radiation involved.”
“Fine. The next time there’s a war, we can blind everybody.” Gresham laughed grimly. “I’ll be sorry for myself for a few months, probably. Then I’ll get a Seeing-Eye dog and become a useful member of society again. Huh!” He paused. When he spoke again his voice was different, doubtful, as if he didn’t quite realize he spoke aloud. “Or maybe not,” he said. “Maybe I’ll never be—useful—any more. Maybe I’m not just imagining . . .”
“Imagining?” Black said, interested. “What?”
Gresham jerked his bandaged face away. “Nothing!” he declared sharply. “Forget it.”
Black shrugged. “Tell me about yourself, Gresham,” he suggested. “We haven’t had much time yet to get acquainted. How did you happen to be out here just now?”
GRESHAM shook his head irritably.
“Just at the wrong spot and the wrong time? Maybe it was meant that way from the start Predestination—how do I know? Oh, I had enough after the war. I bummed around the islands. I—like the sea.” His voice softened. “Like isn’t strong enough. I love the sea. I can’t stay away from it. There’s a fascination—I signed on here and there as a deck-hand, a stevedore—I didn’t care what. I just wanted to soak myself in the big things. Sun and sea and sky. Well, I can still feel the sun and the wind, and I can hear the water. But I can’t see it.” There was no real conviction in the way he finished that last sentence. He turned his bandaged eyes a little to Black’s left and his face grew strained, as if he were looking at something far out at sea.
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