Time of the Great Freeze

by Robert Silverberg

  Jim had to fight off laughter. Colin chattered on, words pouring from him, misinformation piled on misinformation. Jim wanted to grab hold of him and shake him and say, "No, that's not how it happened at all. My father's a historian, and he can tell you the truth about these things." But what was the use? Colin was firmly in possession of his own view of history, and no quick argument was going to sway him.

  "And then your George Washington came to London," Colin was saying, "and thanked our King George for letting the Americans go free, and…"

  He cut his history lesson short and pointed. "Look!" he cried. "There's a moose! Come with me! I'll show you how this gun works, now!"

  The huge creature had wandered unsuspectingly toward them. Now, pausing, it looked up, its dull eyes blinking, its drooping snout twitching suspiciously. It was a spectacular beast, towering nine or ten feet, its forest of antlers gnarled and contorted. For a moment, it did not react at all as Colin ran toward it. Danger signals were filtering through its slow brain, but it had not yet come to a decision to flee.

  Colin was within twenty yards of it now, Jim following close behind. Jim watched the Londoner extend his arm, take aim, nudge the trigger.

  There was a loud splat of sound. The moose snorted and reared high, its hoofs clawing at the sky in pain. A blossom of bright red sprouted high along its withers.

  Colin muttered something in irritation. He fired a second time, and drew a crease along the huge creature's back, again not wounding it seriously. The moose whirled, sounded its trumpeting cry of anguish and fury, and rumbled into action. It began to run.

  But not to flee.

  Unexpectedly, astonishingly, the moose wheeled and charged, running with all its speed straight at its tormentor!

  14

  TREACHERY

  Colin had no chance to move. He stood as though frozen to the ice while the giant moose bore down on him.

  "Colin!" Jim yelled.

  The Londoner finally reacted, in time to save himself though not in time to avoid injury entirely. He leaped to one side just as the enraged animal thundered through the place where he had been standing. The flank of the beast caught Colin and he fell heavily to the ice. His gun went skittering twenty feet away.

  He lay there, stunned. The moose had reversed itself and was coming back, now, determined to trample him. Jim scrambled across the ice toward the gun. In order to reach it, he had to get between Colin and the moose, and that was no pleasure.

  Moving fast, he threw himself headlong, slid across the ice, clapped his hand down on the gun. The moose came roaring past him, the sharp hoofs pounding down only inches from where he lay. He raised the gun and fired in almost the same motion. Luck guided his aim. The shot smashed into the moose's left foreleg, halting the creature in full career. It stumbled as the useless leg crumpled beneath it, and crashed heavily to the ice no more than five feet from Colin.

  Getting to his feet, Jim fired again. This shot ripped through the moose's brain. There was a thrashing of legs for a moment, and then no motion. Panting, Jim lowered the gun, looked over at Colin.

  The Londoner boy was getting shakily to his feet. He walked around the moose, looking at it in awe.

  "Close one," he said.

  "Are you all right?"

  Colin rubbed his side. "I'll look a little purple tonight. But I'm all right, I guess. In better shape then he is, at any rate!"

  "Here," Jim said, handing Colin back his gun. "Next time bring him down on the first shot. It's safer that way."

  Colin holstered the weapon and stared strangely at Jim. "You saved me," he said. "You ran right in front of the big fellow to pick up the gun! You could have been killed, but you saved me. Why did you do that?"

  Of all Colin's many questions, this was the most baffling. "Why?" Jim repeated. "Why? Well-don't you see-I couldn't have just let you be trampled, could I?"

  "Why not? What am I to you? Am I worth losing your life for?"

  "Stop talking foolishness," Jim snapped. "I didn't stop to consider the possibilities. The moose was charging you and I had a chance to get the gun and kill him, that's all. You make it sound as though I were a fool to have saved you."

  "Maybe you were," Colin said in an odd, strained voice.

  "Forget it, will you? We'd better go back and get some help to drag this animal. He's too big for the two of us. We can have a feast tonight-to celebrate the meeting between Londoners and New Yorkers."

  They started to walk back toward the camp. Colin was silent, lost in some private meditation. Lines of tension stood out on his face, and Jim saw him chewing his lip with painful intensity. After a moment Colin said, "I guess I ought to tell you."

  "Tell me what?"

  "You saved my life. I've got to tell you."

  "Will you say it then, man? What's the mystery all about?"

  Colin looked down at his boots. "There isn't going to be any feast tonight. At least, if there is, you five aren't going to be at it. We're supposed to kill you."

  "What?"

  Colin blurted the words in panicky urgency. "You people are supposed to be invaders. We don't trust you. London doesn't, that is. The Lord Mayor thinks you're just an advance unit of a full-scale invasion. You want our atomic power plant, they say. Your own must be running down, and so you're coming to get ours, for why else would people cross thousands of miles? So we were sent out to meet you. We were instructed to learn all we could from you-and then wipe you out!"

  "No!"

  "It's the truth!" Colin moaned. "We have to capture your equipment and bring it back."

  "This is insanity! We came out of friendship. There's no invasion. London is invasion-crazy."

  Shrugging, Colin said, "I'm sorry. Those were our orders."

  Jim stared in disbelief. Then, from far off, came the sound of shouting-and a series of reports that might very well have been shots from Londoner guns. Jim gasped. His father, Ted, Carl, Dave-only four of them, against dozens of the Londoners! It would be a massacre! And what help could he be, more than a mile away, armed only with a knife?

  "It's starting," Colin whispered.

  "Come on, then. I've got to get back."

  "You'll be killed, too!"

  "At least I'll die fighting," Jim said. He drew his knife, hefted it a moment, then suddenly lunged at Colin. He locked one arm around Colin's shoulders and held the point of the knife at the Londoner's throat.

  "Easy, man!" Colin said hoarsely. "First you save me, now you threaten me?"

  "I want your gun. I can't go back there unarmed."

  "Take it, then. It was yours for the asking! Do you think I'm still an enemy, Jim?"

  "From now on," Jim said darkly, "everyone's an enemy until I know otherwise." He snatched the gun from Colin's holster and gripped it tight, welcoming its reassuring sleekness against his palm. For a moment, Jim debated killing Colin on the spot. He was, after all, a member of the Londoner army. But he realized he could not do it, not this way, in cold blood. Colin had given him warning, hadn't he? Which side was Colin now on?

  Even Colin didn't seem sure of that. Jim let go of him, and the Londoner stood like a sleepwalker, brow furrowed, head shaking slowly from side to side.

  "Here," Jim said. "Take this!"

  He tossed his knife down at Colin's feet. Then, without waiting for the Londoner to follow, Jim turned and raced off, back toward the place where the two parties had met.

  He could see the fighting long before he reached the camp. It was hard to tell exactly what was happening, but flames were rising, and the tent where his father and Ted had been conferring with Moncrieff was a blazing ruin. Tiny sticklike figures were huddled in the snow, and now and then a burst of light from a power torch would flare out from the westward sleds.

  Coming closer, Jim could make out something of the battle. His own people were dug in behind the sleds. The Londoners had scattered in a wide arc, and were sniping with their guns. Jim looked down at the gun in his hand, and wondered how long it would fire
without running down. If he could slip around unnoticed behind the Londoner sleds, and pick them off from the rear without getting ashed by a New Yorker power torch in error…

  No, he thought dismally. Fighting, killing, that wasn't the answer. It never was.

  "We've got to stop them," Colin whispered, coming up alongside Jim. "It's insanity!"

  "You think so, too?"

  "Of course I do! They'll never get anywhere this way. Look, they've got some of your people prisoner already."

  Jim stared. Yes, Colin was right! There, far behind the line of battle, a Londoner held Dr. Barnes and Ted Callison at gunpoint. So only Carl and Dave were still at liberty, holding their own behind the barricade of the sleds. Two men against a whole squad!

  "Listen to me," Colin said urgently. "We've got to go out there and stop them. I don't know how, but we've got to do it!"

  "Agreed." Jim pointed toward the scene of the fighting. "You talk to Moncrieff. I'll try to slip around behind those sleds to my own side. If we can only get them to stop shooting at each other, we can come to an understanding."

  Colin nodded. He and Jim split up, and began to circle warily toward their respective lines. Jim moved in a half crouch, trying to look in every direction at once, hoping that Carl or Dave would recognize him and not just blaze away.

  He had not gone more than a few steps when a Londoner rose out of nowhere, taking Jim off guard. He was young, and his hair was so blond it seemed almost white. One side of his face was singed; evidently he had come perilously close to a power-torch blast. His uniform was burned away on that side, too. But he held a gun in his other hand, and he was taking dead aim.

  A figure suddenly cut between Jim and the Londoner.

  Colin.

  "Wait!" Colin cried. "Don't shoot him!"

  The Londoner gestured with his gun. "Get out of the way, Colin! Have you lost your mind?"

  "Don't shoot him!" Colin repeated. And suddenly Jim's knife flashed bright in Colin's hand.

  Jim stared. The Londoner, apparently unable to believe that one of his own comrades would attack him, brushed Colin angrily out of the way and took aim at Jim. But Colin swiped with the knife. The blond Londoner howled. His gun went off, a wild shot, as Colin's blade sliced into the man's arm. The Londoner fell to the ground, clasping a hand to his wound. Colin stooped, picked up the gun, and stood staring at it strangely, as though he had never seen such a thing before.

  Then he snapped out of his brooding reverie. He grinned at Jim, and sprinted off toward his own line.

  Jim crouched again, began once again to circle behind the sleds. As he came around parallel to them, he caught sight of Carl and Dave, dug in solidly, power torches at the ready. Carl saw him and whirled, lifting his torch.

  Jim threw up his hands. "Don't! It's me! Jim!"

  Carl looked baffled for a moment. He gestured to Jim, who threw himself to the ground and crawled twenty yards over open ice to the safety of the sleds. Bullets whined past him, but did no harm.

  Carl said, "You picked a sweet time to wander off!"

  "How was I to know? What happened?"

  "Your father and Ted were parleying in the tent. The talk went on and on. Suddenly Ted and Dr. Barnes came rushing out, but Londoner soldiers surrounded them. We realized they were being captured, so we scuttled back behind the sleds. Next thing we knew, the Londoners were opening fire on us. And here we are. Three of us against a whole mob."

  "We don't stand a chance," Jim said.

  "At least we'll go down fighting," Dave said, aiming his torch and firing.

  "Don't be a fool," Jim snapped. "We aren't any good to anybody dead, are we?"

  "What do you suggest?" Carl asked.

  "Throw down your torches. Surrender."

  Dave gasped. "Are you out of your mind? They'll kill us!"

  "I don't think so," Jim said. "They've got the wrong ideas about us. They think we're the vanguard of an invading army. I talked to one of their men. He's going to get Moncrieff to call off the shooting. He'll tell them how few we really are."

  "Can you trust any of them?" Dave asked. "After the trick they pulled just now?"

  "We've got to trust them," Jim said passionately. "It's either that or be killed out here."

  "Or kill them," Carl said.

  "What good is that?" Jim asked.

  "At least we'll still be alive."

  It took some hard convincing, but Jim got Carl and Dave to see that there was nothing to gain and everything to lose by continuing to fight. They were outnumbered, and they could only trust to Colin's luck in persuading Moncrieff to call off the attack.

  "Truce!" Jim yelled. "I call for truce!"

  "Throw down your weapons!" came the Londoner reply.

  "Go on," Jim whispered.

  Carl and Dave hesitated. Then, with obvious reluctance, they tossed their power torches out in front of the sleds. Jim threw the gun he had taken from Colin down next to them. All three New Yorkers stepped forward, moving slowly into the open. Jim had never felt more exposed in his life. Suppose Colin hadn't persuaded Moncrieff? Suppose the Londoners were still intent on wiping them out?

  The haze cleared. The smoke of battle rose and was gone. It was terribly quiet now. Londoners rose from their hiding places in the snow, shading their eyes to stare at the advancing New Yorkers. The battle was over.

  It had all been so unnecessary, Jim thought. They had come in peace. They had meant no harm. They had only wanted to join hands across the frozen sea. And to be met this way, with guns, with deceit…

  Moncrieff was coming forward. Two soldiers were leading Dr. Barnes and Ted. The Londoners were still armed.

  "We called for truce," Jim said quietly. "We threw down our weapons. You should do the same."

  Moncrieff shrugged. His eyes were sad, he looked troubled, but the Londoner leader still seemed steely and arrogant. He gave a signal, and the five New Yorkers were herded together. This was no truce, Jim realized. They were prisoners.

  Moncrieff said, "I had orders to kill all of you. We think you are spies. I could still kill you."

  "Will you feel safer if you do?" Jim asked. "There are only five of us. We don't have weapons. We aren't an army. We're exiles from our own city."

  "Perhaps so," Moncrieff said. "But am I to trust you? How can I know? It's safer to remove you."

  Jim kicked at the snow angrily. "Where does trust begin? Are we all enemies, every man in the world? Isn't there any way to break out of the trap of suspicion?"

  Moncrieff's icy expression seemed to soften. "Perhaps," he said in a low voice. "But there are so many dangers. We have to move slowly, cautiously. We-"

  He stopped and looked upward in surprise.

  There was a sudden strange sound in the sky.

  It was like no sound Jim had ever heard before. It was a dull rumbling that grew louder and more terrifying with each second, until it seemed that the heavens would split asunder. It swelled into a fierce roaring whine, a high-pitched screech that made eardrums protest and sweat run cold. No animal could make such a sound, Jim thought. No animal ever spawned could emit such an ear-jarring racket!

  But what was it?

  Londoners and New Yorkers looked toward the sky. What hovered there was even more frightening than that terrible sound.

  It was golden, and it was huge. A great winged thing soared overhead, moving in slow, serene loops over the battlefield, glistening so brightly that the eye was forced to look away after a moment. Bright as the sun the thing gleamed, and its swept-back wings remained rigid as it soared. Round and round and round again, high overhead, and then descending, coming within a few hundred feet of the ice, swooping past like some monstrous bird of prey.

  But this was no bird, Jim knew. This was no cousin of the shrieking gulls he had seen at sea. What soared overhead now was the work of man.

  An airplane! It had to be!

  It was like something from a myth, come to life. Once, Jim knew, the sky had been full of planes, planes th
at could fly round the whole world in a quarter of a day. So the books said. But one who finds the open sky itself a hard-to-imagine concept does not easily accept the idea of vehicles that can fly in the sky, superbly confident that the thin air will support them. This trip had been full of wonders for Jim, but none of the others, not the sight of the open sea itself, had moved him the way the soaring plane did.

  A hush had fallen over the ice field. Jim saw that Colin was on his knees, silently mouthing prayers with fierce energy. Everyone gaped in awe at the thing in the sky.

  The plane circled once more.

  Then it was gone. A whine, a rumble in the distance-and silence.

  Colin still stared at the sky. "What was it?" he whispered. "What could it have been?"

  "How would I know?" a Londoner next to him said.

  Jim glanced at his father, at Ted, at the others. "It was an airplane, wasn't it?"

  Dr. Barnes nodded. "But where could it have come from?"

  "Not from any of the underground cities," Ted said. "Underground cities don't have planes. So it must have come from the warm countries. A scout, probably. Looking for signs of life up here."

  "A spy?" Jim asked.

  "Yes," Colin said. "A spy!" He came up to Moncrieff, reached out to catch his leaders arm. "Don't you see, sir? It's a spy from the cities of the South. They're surveying us. They must be getting ready to invade us. We've got to tell London! It isn't these New Yorkers we should have worried about at all. It's the ones from the South, the ones with the planes!"

  Moncrieff was silent a moment. His jaw muscles worked, knotting in his cheeks. Then he said, "You're right, Colin. You must be. This fighting is foolishness. That's the real danger, up there!" He looked at the five New Yorkers. "We've got to warn London. Will you come with us? We'll go to London together."

  15

  "BRING US NO SPIES!"

  The battle was over. Those who had been bitter enemies only minutes before now joined, and prepared to leave together. The Londoners seemed mute with a common shame. They felt the guilt of their treachery now-not theirs, really, but their leaders'. Yet they had fought, had nearly taken the lives of five innocent men, for no reason other than blind fear of strangers.