at least a dozen cars stolen—old cars, too.’
‘I’m going on the noon train with Lovey,’ she said firmly. The sailor looked abashed.
‘You might think that someone wanted to cut Altoona off from the outside world,’ Beele said.
‘To Las Vegas. I’m not coming back.’
‘I can assume either that
they
don’t want us to know what is going on outside, or—and what is more likely—
they
want to keep those outside from knowing what is going on here. Very odd.’
‘Monster ! Monster !’ she screamed, inches from his vacant eyes.
‘Now there’s an idea,’ he said abstractedly. ‘Monsters from outer space have kidnapped us, and we don’t know it yet.’
He wondered if the Air Force’s nearby radar shack knew of the strange phenomenon … or if they had been affected by it. Whole new panoramas of headlines opened before his inner vision, miles of exclusive copy.
NO RADAR ON?
—
AF WIRELESS
—
We will toast neither our bread nor our power company this
a.m. The lines are down. The lines that supply us with power, heat, light, communication, our umbilical cords to the outside world all down. Moreover we are without transportation. There is not a vehicle left in town : not a car, not a bicycle, not so much as a roller skate. Yet even more frightening is the prospect of impairment of our national defence network. How soon are our complacent authorities going to come too, and realize …
Mary and the sailor did not further disturb his reverie. Rising, they dusted themselves off and strolled away in the direction of the station. Barthemo wondered if a sarcastic public notice would be more appropriate.
Due to circumstances beyond, it seems, the control of the city fathers, there will be a slight interruption termination in a few of our public utilities …
It registered on him then that Mary was gone.
To the station
. But if whoever was cutting off Altoona from the outside world were as thorough as
they
seemed, it was a sure bet
they
would not miss the train. He would take his camera. He would take pictures of
them
actually stealing a train, 60-second pictures, with his new camera.
By one minute to twelve he was hidden under the station platform, his camera beside him. When he had stopped at the office to pick it up, a dozen people had tried to waylay and buttonhole him. There were conflicting stories about the water and gas being cut off, about walking tool boxes—and one intriguing item about poltergeists at the old Ruyteck house, the warehouse for gas mantles.
WHO HAUNTS WAREHOUSE?
—
Neighbours rattled by ghostly knocks
He could not get over the feeling that he was not alone in the darkness.
The train from Las Vegas, no special, came puffing hi a leisurely ten minutes late, took on mail, took on water, took on two passengers, a woman and a sailor, and puffed off again in the direction it had come. Aside from the goggled engineer’s waving at the woman passenger as she boarded, nothing seemed odd.
Suddenly there was a crunching sound close at hand. The editor turned to see a large blocky shape beside him, digesting his camera. It seemed to do so with difficulty, as though it were full already, yet it remained in place, while its crab-claw hands picked up every crumb. So this was it !
‘Eureka !’ he cried, and, as was his habit, unnecessarily translated, ‘I have found it !’ Leaping up joyfully, he brought his head into painful and concussive contact with the bottom of the platform.
What else do metal boxes eat?
he wondered as consciousness fled.
What would I eat, if I were a metal box? Surely not an editor …?
He awoke some time that afternoon to find the thing no longer beside him. His tongue noted fillings missing, and his belt no longer functioned. No buckle. These were reassurances that he had not been dreaming.
Zap!
Even the metal spring from his notepad was gone; even the lead from his pencil. He could see the banner now :
GNAWING GNOME PUTS BITE ON TEETH, BELTS BUCKLE
‘I’m going on the noon train with Lovey,’ she said firmly. The sailor looked abashed.
‘You might think that someone wanted to cut Altoona off from the outside world,’ Beele said.
‘To Las Vegas. I’m not coming back.’
‘I can assume either that
they
don’t want us to know what is going on outside, or—and what is more likely—
they
want to keep those outside from knowing what is going on here. Very odd.’
‘Monster ! Monster !’ she screamed, inches from his vacant eyes.
‘Now there’s an idea,’ he said abstractedly. ‘Monsters from outer space have kidnapped us, and we don’t know it yet.’
He wondered if the Air Force’s nearby radar shack knew of the strange phenomenon … or if they had been affected by it. Whole new panoramas of headlines opened before his inner vision, miles of exclusive copy.
NO RADAR ON?
—
AF WIRELESS
—
We will toast neither our bread nor our power company this
a.m. The lines are down. The lines that supply us with power, heat, light, communication, our umbilical cords to the outside world all down. Moreover we are without transportation. There is not a vehicle left in town : not a car, not a bicycle, not so much as a roller skate. Yet even more frightening is the prospect of impairment of our national defence network. How soon are our complacent authorities going to come too, and realize …
Mary and the sailor did not further disturb his reverie. Rising, they dusted themselves off and strolled away in the direction of the station. Barthemo wondered if a sarcastic public notice would be more appropriate.
Due to circumstances beyond, it seems, the control of the city fathers, there will be a slight interruption termination in a few of our public utilities …
It registered on him then that Mary was gone.
To the station
. But if whoever was cutting off Altoona from the outside world were as thorough as
they
seemed, it was a sure bet
they
would not miss the train. He would take his camera. He would take pictures of
them
actually stealing a train, 60-second pictures, with his new camera.
By one minute to twelve he was hidden under the station platform, his camera beside him. When he had stopped at the office to pick it up, a dozen people had tried to waylay and buttonhole him. There were conflicting stories about the water and gas being cut off, about walking tool boxes—and one intriguing item about poltergeists at the old Ruyteck house, the warehouse for gas mantles.
WHO HAUNTS WAREHOUSE?
—
Neighbours rattled by ghostly knocks
He could not get over the feeling that he was not alone in the darkness.
The train from Las Vegas, no special, came puffing hi a leisurely ten minutes late, took on mail, took on water, took on two passengers, a woman and a sailor, and puffed off again in the direction it had come. Aside from the goggled engineer’s waving at the woman passenger as she boarded, nothing seemed odd.
Suddenly there was a crunching sound close at hand. The editor turned to see a large blocky shape beside him, digesting his camera. It seemed to do so with difficulty, as though it were full already, yet it remained in place, while its crab-claw hands picked up every crumb. So this was it !
‘Eureka !’ he cried, and, as was his habit, unnecessarily translated, ‘I have found it !’ Leaping up joyfully, he brought his head into painful and concussive contact with the bottom of the platform.
What else do metal boxes eat?
he wondered as consciousness fled.
What would I eat, if I were a metal box? Surely not an editor …?
He awoke some time that afternoon to find the thing no longer beside him. His tongue noted fillings missing, and his belt no longer functioned. No buckle. These were reassurances that he had not been dreaming.
Zap!
Even the metal spring from his notepad was gone; even the lead from his pencil. He could see the banner now :
GNAWING GNOME PUTS BITE ON TEETH, BELTS BUCKLE
Similar Books
