Fantastic Stories Presents the Fantastic Universe Super Pack. Roger Dee

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СКАЧАТЬ think it’s what it sounds like. But I’m the only one who doesn’t. Now you better give it to me straight, because they’ve got half the security personnel of this entire area out hunting for you, and nobody else is going to care much what the truth is. My God, on top of everything else, you had to run away! Now, give out, kid, and make it good. This one has got to stick.”

      I didn’t understand a lot of what he said. I started trying to explain, but he wouldn’t listen. He wanted something else, and I didn’t know what.

      Finally, he made me understand.

      He’d almost believed my story the night before. Almost, but there was a detail somewhere that bothered him. He couldn’t remember it at first; it kept nudging around the edge of his mind, but he didn’t know what it was. He forgot about it for a while. Then, in the Garden, I made my second big mistake. (He didn’t explain all of this then; he just accused, and I didn’t understand this part completely until later.) I wanted him to park the car.

      Any girl on Earth, no matter how sheltered, how inexperienced, would have known better than that. As he saw it, he had to decide whether I was just so carried away by the night and the mood and the moment that I didn’t care—or whether my apparent innocence was a pose all along.

      When we separated in front of the hotel that night, we both had to take the same road for a while. Larry was driving right behind me for a good three miles, before I turned off at the motel. And that was when he realized what the detail was that had been bothering him: my car.

      The first time he saw me, I was driving a different make and model, with Massachusetts plates on it. He was sure of that, because he had copied it down when he left the luncheonette, the first time we met.

      Larry had never told me very clearly about the kind of work he did. I knew it was something more or less “classified,” having to do with aircraft—jet planes or experimental rockets, or something like that. And I knew, without his telling me, that the work—not just the job, but the work he did at it—was more important to him than anything else ever had been. More important, certainly, than he had ever expected any woman to be.

      So, naturally, when he met me that day, and knew he wanted to see me again, but couldn’t get my address or any other identifying information out of me, he had copied down the license number of my car, and turned it in, with my name, to the Security Officer on the Project. A man who has spent almost every waking moment from the age of nine planning and preparing to fit himself for a role in humanity’s first big fling into space doesn’t endanger his security status by risking involuntary contamination from an attractive girl. The little aircraft plant on the fringes of town was actually a top-secret key division in the Satellite project, and if you worked there, you took precautions.

      The second time I met him at the luncheonette, he had been waiting so long, and had so nearly given up any hope of my coming, that he was no longer watching the road or the door when I finally got there—and when he left, he was so pleased at having gotten a dinner date with me, that he didn’t notice much of anything at all. Not except out of the corner of one eye, and with only the slightest edge of subconscious recognition: just enough so that some niggling detail that was out-of-place kept bothering him thereafter; and just enough so that he made a point of stopping in the Security Office again that afternoon to add my new motel address to the information he’d given them the day before.

      The three-mile drive in back of my Colorado plates was just about long enough, finally, to make the discrepancy register consciously.

      Larry went home and spent a bad night. His feelings toward me, as I could hardly understand at the time, were a great deal stronger, or at least more clearly defined, than mine about him. But since he was more certain just what it was he wanted, and less certain what I did, every time he tried to fit my attitude in the car into the rest of what he knew, he’d come up with a different answer, and nine answers out of ten were angry and suspicious and agonizing.

      “Now look, babe,” he said, “you’ve got to see this. I trusted you; really, all the time, I did trust you. But I didn’t trust me. By the time I went to work this morning, I was half-nuts. I didn’t know what to think, that’s all. And I finally sold myself on the idea that if you were what you said you were, nobody would get hurt, and—well, if you weren’ton the level, I better find out, quick. You see that?”

      “Yes,” I said.

      “Okay. So I told them about the license plates, and about—the other stuff.”

      “What other stuff?” What else was there? How stupid could I be?

      “I mean, the—in the car. The way you—Listen, kid,” he said, his face grim and demanding again. “It’s still just as true as it was then. I still don’t know. They called me this evening, and said when they got around to the motel to question you, you’d skipped out. They also said that Massachusetts car was stolen. And there were a couple of other things they’d picked up that they wouldn’t tell me, but they’ve got half the National Guard and all the Boy Scouts out after you by now. They wanted me to tell them anything I could think of that might help them find this place. I couldn’t think of anything while I was talking to them. Right afterwards, I remembered plenty of things—which roads you were familiar with, and what you’d seen before and what you hadn’t, stuff like that, so—”

      “So you—?”

      “So I came out myself. I wanted to find you first. Listen, babe, I love you. Maybe I’m a sucker, and maybe I’m nuts, and maybe I-don’t-know-what. But I figured maybe I could find out more, and easier on you, than they could. And honey, it better be good, because I don’t think I’ve got what it would take to turn you in, and now I’ve found you—”

      He let it go there, but that was plenty. He was willing to listen. He wanted to believe in me, because he wanted me. And finding me in the house I’d described, where I’d said it was, had him half-convinced. But I still had to explain those Massachusetts plates. And I couldn’t.

      I was psychologically incapable of telling him another lie, now, when I knew I would never see him again, that this was the last time I could ever possibly be close to him in any way. I couldn’t estrange myself by lying.

      *

      And I was also psychologically incapable—I found out—of telling the truth. They’d seen to that.

      It was the first time I’d ever hated them. The first time, I suppose, that I fully realized my position with them.

      I could not tell the truth, and I would not tell a lie; all I could do was explain this, and hope he would believe me. I could explain, too, that I was no spy, no enemy; that those who had prevented me from telling what I wanted to tell were no menace to his government or his people.

      He believed me.

      It was just that simple. He believed me, because I suppose he knew, without knowing how he knew it, that it was truth. Humans are not incapable of communication; they are simply unaware of it.

      I told him, also, that they were coming for me, that I had called them, and—regretfully—that he had better leave before they came.

      “You said they weren’t enemies or criminals. You were telling the truth, weren’t you?”

      “Yes, I was. They won’t harm you. But they might . . . .” I couldn’t say it. I didn’t know the words when I tried to say it. Might take you away with them . . . with us СКАЧАТЬ