Collected Fiction (1940-1963)

by William P. McGivern

  I wheeled and saw the little fellow in the bunny suit looking at the slot machine with a pleased smile on his face, and standing knee-deep in a glittering pile of half-dollars.

  He had hit the jackpot!

  I STOOD up, feeling suddenly weak all over, and walked to the slot machine.

  “They all came out,” the little green-suited fellow said proudly. Then a remorseful look stole over his face. “There won’t be anything left for the next fellow, will there?” he asked guiltily.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I said in a strangled voice. I had stood about all I could.

  The waiter was gathering up the coins, his unpleasantness having faded like a dew drop in the sun. He was again thinking of his tip.

  “Put back what you don’t need,” the little fellow directed him. “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience the next person who came along.”

  He was quite happy as he trotted alongside me to the door.

  “Quite an ingenious system, I must say,” he remarked. “Just pull a lever and that’s that. Very ingenious.”

  I groaned. Why did everything happen to me? I thought disgustedly. Ruby vanished without a trace, and me saddled with a nut from the Future who was convinced that he was in Paradise, when he was actually in New York.

  It was probably because I was so absorbed with these distracting thoughts that I didn’t notice the sleek black car pull up to the curb alongside us. The first inkling I had of trouble’s ugly head was in the form of a sudden hard jab in the back.

  I froze in my tracks. A voice said in my ear:

  “Smart guy. In the car now and no tricks.”

  There was nothing else to do. I stepped for the open door of the car, but just then there was an interruption.

  “Where are you going?” my chum from the Future asked plaintively.

  “Probably for a ride,” I answered grimly—and truthfully

  “How delightful,” he answered, pleased. “You think of everything here, don’t you?”

  I turned my head slightly and saw that the mug behind me was Dapper Dan, Scarlotti’s finger man. The mug I’d thrown out of the theatre not two hours before.

  “Hello Danny,” I grinned. “Playing tough guy now?”

  He glared at me. “Who’s the mug in the clown suit?” he grated.

  “Friend of mine,” I said, trying to give the little runt the office to scram. But he stood there smiling, obviously pleased with the prospects of a ride.

  “Get in!” Dapper Dan snapped at him.

  “Thank you,” he answered jubilantly. He climbed awkwardly into the car. I got in after him cursing fluently. Then the car moved away from the curb in a swift rush of power.

  “Wonderful,” squealed Boy Scout Suit, “wonderful!”

  The car flashed through the heavy night traffic and in a few minutes was crawling over the Washington bridge to Jersey.

  Beside Dapper Dan, who was seated next to me prodding a persuader into my ribs, there were two other yeggs in the car, both in the front seat.

  The trip was made in ominous silence. The only person who was unaffected by the situation was the visitor from a couple of thousand years from now.

  He was so immensely excited by the spectacle of Manhattan’s sky line that he forgot to jabber questions into my ear. He contented himself with squirming about, and sighing happily at the sights that spread around him.

  I was so curious about him that I actually was able to forget my own predicament. If he was faking astonishment and excitement he was doing a remarkably fine job of it. If he wasn’t faking he belonged to another time era, that was certain.

  THE SILENCE held until we reached a shack in Jersey set back from the street, then Dapper Dan nudged me with the gun and told me to get out.

  As we filed into the dark house, I did a little worrying in behalf of myself. Things seemed to be getting worse and worse for me. Still no inkling as to where Ruby had disappeared, except the assumption that she had been snatched into a future time. But that was not the immediate problem. More pressing than that, was what Dapper Dan arid his playmates had in store for me.

  A light flicked on and I saw we stood in a sparsely furnished room with all the blinds drawn. It was a deserted neighborhood, I had noticed as we entered.

  “Nice place for a murder,” I remarked conversationally.

  “Maybe,” Dapper Dan commented casually.

  The other two thugs seated themselves without taking their eyes off me My playmate from the Future stared curiously about the ill-furnished room. His features were pleasantly but uncertainly expectant; as if he were a spectator at a peculiar game which he did not understand too well.

  Dapper Dan broke the short silence.

  “You held the cards a while ago,” he said softly, “when you tossed me out of your show. The situation is reversed now. And what happens to you depends on how anxious you are to cooperate.”

  “Meaning what?” I asked.

  “That Scarlotti intends to muscle into the show business of New York. He’s going to do it on the legit. And he thinks you’d be a good man to have working for him. It isn’t everyone that the Boss is willing to take in, you know.”

  “He’s taken in everybody he’s done business with,” I said recklessly.

  “Very funny,” Dapper Dan said tonelessly. “I may have to ask the boys here to show you their appreciation of your wit if you keep it up. Now, for the last time, are you in?”

  I pretended to ponder the situation.

  “You know,” I said thoughtfully, “I think I’ve got a good play for Scarlotti to lead off with.”

  “What’s that?” Dapper Dan asked.

  “It’s a play,” I said, “that symbolizes Scarlotti and his whole outfit pretty well. It’s called Brother Rat!”

  Dapper Dan’s face flushed purple. His hand came out of his coat pocket holding a gun.

  “You’re a little too wise, I think,” he said softly.

  The little man from Tomorrow jumped excitedly when he saw the gun in Dapper Dan’s hand.

  “I know what that is,” he cried, “it’s a gun. I saw one in the Collectarium once. The inscription said it was a weapon used by the cliff dwellers of the twentieth century.”

  Dapper Dan’s jaw dropped a full inch.

  “Who is this guy?” he demanded. “Is he a screwball?”

  “Use it, please,” the little fellow begged. “I’d love to see it work. Please try it.”

  “I think I will,” Dapper Dan said softly.

  He swung the muzzle around until it aimed squarely at the third clasp of the little fellow’s uniform.

  “You’ll know better than to try and kid me the next time,” he said viciously. His finger tightened slowly on the trigger.

  I’d swear the little fellow didn’t know he was staring straight into eternity.

  The smile was still on his face and his eyes were bright with interest.

  I couldn’t let him go that way. If I did I knew I’d see his friendly, innocent face before me the rest of my life.

  Just as Dapper Dan’s finger closed on the trigger, I hurled myself at him. My shoulder drove into his side, and at the same instant I heard a thundering report above my head and felt a hot slash of flame sear across my neck.

  BUT THAT wasn’t all. As I crashed to my knees I felt, rather than saw, a shimmering phosphorescence illuminate the room with crazy flashing lights. Then a sound like the ripping of a delicate fabric filled the room and a second later a thunderous blast jarred the very floor beneath me.

  Dazed, I looked up. The sight before me caused me to blink rapidly and unbelievingly.

  For before my astounded eyes, smack in the middle of the room, was a huge undulating ball of metal. Before I could collect my badly scattered wits, the hatch-like cover on the machine was flung back and a slim, auburn-headed figure slipped out and dropped to the floor.

  “Ruby!” I yelled.

  “Well of all people,” she exclaimed. “Whatever are you doing here?”
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  That was all the opportunity we had for light conversation.

  For Dapper Dan had picked himself from the floor, and now he shoved the muzzle of his gun into my back and barked at his thugs.

  “Grab the doll!”

  They wasted no time. Struggling and twisting she was hauled to one side of the room, where she proceeded to give every member of the opposition her exact views on their ancestry and upbringing.

  I knew it was all over then. Somehow Ruby had been returned, and now I had no doubts as to where she’d been. But she had returned just in time to stick her pretty neck into a tight noose of trouble.

  No one had paid any attention to the little fellow, and I peered around to see what had happened to him. My first thought was that he had collected a bit of lead for himself, but I saw immediately that I was mistaken. He was cowering in a corner, a mask of terror stamped on his face. I felt a twinge of pity. It must have been an unnerving situation for him.

  But I saw then that he didn’t seemed to be worrying about the gangsters. His eyes were focused on the time machine and one trembling hand was pointing at it in horror. He was almost blubbering in his trepidation, but I did manage to catch one frightened word.

  “My ww-wife,” he gasped. “My w-wife!”

  I wheeled and saw that another person was emerging from the time machine.

  But what a person!

  She was a female. That much was obvious. But from there on, all resemblance to the females I’ve met ended. As she dropped to the floor I saw that she was as tall as I, and I’m no pigmy.

  Her eyes were flashing pools of authority and power, and her features were cast in the same noble lines as those of our North American Indians. Straight, tawny hair fell to her wide, splendidly muscled shoulders. A brilliant cape swirled about her as she stepped forward. She was the living picture of power and strength and sternness.

  She faced the gangsters, hands at her sides, but her wonderful flashing eyes raked them scornfully.

  I could hear Dapper Dan breathing hard—and incredulously.

  “What’s your racket?” he snarled. He moved the gun to cover the Amazonian creature. “I got you covered,” he snapped.

  A crimson flash of anger appeared in the woman’s face.

  “Put that toy away,” she thundered. “How dare you threaten me! You insolent, miserable slave.”

  The power in her voice would have taxed the dynamos at Coulee dam.

  THE ONLY sound in the room was Dapper Dan’s harsh breathing and then to my utter amazement, the gun slipped from his hand and banged on the floor.

  “You’re running the show,” he panted. “Anything you say.”

  Without a word the gloriously impressive creature pressed two buttons on her wide belt. With a faint hiss! three brilliant streaks of light crackled out and seemed to spear the gangsters in the forehead. The lances of light then seemed to dissolve in the air, and a faint acrid smokiness was the only tangible evidence of their existence.

  But Dapper Dan and his chop men were stretched on the floor, apparently as lifeless as a Hollywood ‘B’ picture.

  “Isn’t she wonderful!” Ruby exclaimed excitedly.

  “Bosh!” snorted the impressive female. She marched across the room and jerked her husband to his feet. For an instant I thought she might tear one of his arms off and beat him over the head with it, but fortunately for Number 33 something distracted her attention.

  Her eyes focused incredulously on the silly, feminine hat which was still perched on the little fellow’s head. It was ridiculous enough to distract anyone’s attention.

  “Where did you get that?” she thundered.

  He stared at her in blank terror, and then following the direction of her stern eyes, his hand moved guiltily to the hat.

  “Well?” she demanded. “What is it? Just because you were a few thousand years away from me you evidently decided to make a perfect fool of yourself.”

  I believe I felt sorrier for the little fellow right then than I had at any of his misadventures in this country. Making excuses to a wife—any wife—is no snap. But to be called upon to lie glibly to a super amazon such as this would be almost too much to expect of any man. Even Superman would have quailed.

  “It—it’s a hat,” the little fellow said, swallowing weakly.

  “Hmmmph!” his wife’s snort was derisive and unmollified.

  “I—I got it for you,” he said desperately, the words tumbling hurriedly from his mouth. “Here, put it on.”

  I shuddered as he reached out suddenly and stuck the absurd hat awkwardly on her head.

  “There,” he said faintly.

  The amazonian creature drew a slow breath into her massive lungs. Her cheeks reddened and her eyes flashed dangerously. I backed away like a craven. She looked as if she were ready to explode—both figuratively and literally.

  But then Ruby, with what seemed to me a display of idiotic bravery, grabbed her impulsively by the arm and turned her about.

  “Not that way,” she cried in horrified tones. “You don’t wear them straight. You tip them on the side and wear them over one eye.”

  “What are you talking about?” demanded Superwoman.

  “The hat, silly,” Ruby said briskly. “It looks simply awful.”

  She stepped back chin in hand, and studied the massive creature before her.

  “Sit down.” she commanded suddenly. In her eyes was the gleaming light of a missionary. She flew out of the room then, and returned a second later with two objects in her hand.

  “Look!” she gloated. “I found a compact and a bottle of perfume in the bedroom.”

  Number 33’s wife was still standing dazedly in the center of the room, but when Ruby bustled up to her she sat down meekly, a strange bewildered look on her face.

  LIKE AN enthusiastic artist Ruby wielded the lipstick and powder, until the stern, plain features began to glow and soften under the sorcery of make-up.

  Then she fluffed up the straight, tawny hair until it bore a reasonable facsimilitude to the modern mode.

  On top of a swirling wave of hair she placed the silly little hat and with a few deft motions shoved it down into place—over one eye.

  Then she stepped back and viewed her handiwork delightedly.

  “You’re perfectly scrumptious,” she decided definitely. “There is just one thing lacking though.”

  She removed the stopper from the perfume bottle and sprinkled a few drops of the scented liquid in the newly coiffed hair.

  “Now,” she cried, standing back again, “you’re absolutely perfect!”

  “Very nice,” I commented cautiously.

  Something very peculiar was happening to the stern, powerful creature. She looked uncertainly at us as if wondering whether to believe us or not. Perhaps it was the make-up but she certainly seemed to be, somehow, more of a woman than before.

  “See for yourself,” Ruby said, holding the compact mirror before her.

  For a long moment the female gladiator regarded her image, a curious expression on her face. Then she turned, somewhat shyly I thought, to her husband who had hardly taken a breath for the past five minutes. An unspoken question was in her eyes.

  Number 33, the little guy in the boy scout suit, was more than equal to the situation.

  “You’re absolutely beautiful,” he said dramatically.

  I felt proud of him. He even put a hand to his heart as he spoke. He had learned something of flattery from his experience at Danny’s Dive.

  And flattery was one weapon which his statuesque wife had no defense against.

  It would be incorrect to say she simpered. But she came as close to it as anyone of her size and majestic bearing could. A faint blush stained her cheeks and her eyelids fluttered coyly.

  “I probably look simply awful,” she said, as women since Eve have had a habit of saying.

  Number 33 assured her stoutly that her appearance left nothing to be desired, and she giggled. Actually. I knew the war was ov
er then.

  It turned out I was right. When they climbed into the time machine a few minutes later she was calling him “Ducky” and he was calling her “Toots.”

  The little fellow shook hands with me before they left.

  “You’ve got a wonderful set-up here,” he said wistfully. Then he brightened. “But I’m going to have a new deal in the Future that won’t be bad.”

  As he closed the hatch and settled himself happily on his wife’s knee for the return trip I found myself agreeing with him. At least I hoped he would—I mean will—be happy.

  When they had gone I turned to Ruby:

  “Ruby,” said I firmly, “we are going to get married. At once.”

  “But I can’t” she wailed, “I’ve so many things to do, people to invite and—”

  “It will,” I continued inexorably, “be a simple ceremony and it will take place as soon as we find a justice of the peace. Women may rule the Future but, by Heaven, I’m giving the orders now.”

  “Whatever you say,” she said meekly. But she sighed softly and fluttered her eyelids.

  We were married last week at the Little Church Around The Corner before three thousand people after an engagement of three months and are now living happily ever after.

  All you have to do is put your foot down.

  You see?

  THE COSMIC PUNCH OF LEFTY O’ROURKE

  First published in the February 1942 issue of Amazing Stories.

  Lefty O’Rourke couldn’t punch his way out of a paper bag. But when that red ray shot down out of the sky, it did something to him; something save him a perfect lulu of a punch.

  I’VE BEEN Lefty O’Rourke’s manager for the last ten years. The last five of them years we been barely making enough to buy beans and bacon, but still Lefty’s got the idea that before he quits he’s goin’ to be middleweight champ. Of all cockeyed impossibilities!

  He was a little hurt when I got him a job as sparring partner in Johnny Sylva’s camp, but a guy has got to eat, and Lefty is just kidding himself when he won’t admit that his days as a leather tosser are done with.