«Mmm…use “Molly Wadsworth”; this one is pretty icky. Title it
«Thirty,» he announced. «Blow your nose. Send it off and for God's sake don't let me see it.»
«Jubal, aren't you ever ashamed?»
«No.»
«Someday I'm going to kick you right in your fat stomach for one of these.»
«I know. Get your fanny indoors and take care of it before I change my mind.»
«Yes, Boss.»
She kissed his bald spot as she passed behind his chair. Harshaw yelled, «Front!» and Miriam started toward him. A loudspeaker mounted on the house came to life:
«Boss!»
Harshaw uttered one word and Miriam clucked. He added, «Yes, Larry?»
The speaker answered, «There's a dame down here at the gate — and she's got a
Harshaw considered this. «Is she pretty?»
«Uh … yes.»
«Then why are you sucking your thumb? Let her in.» Harshaw sat back. «Start,» he said. «City montage dissolving into medium two-shot interior. A cop is seated in a straight chair, no cap, collar open, face covered with sweat. We see the back of the other figure, depthed between us and cop. Figure raises a hand, bringing it back and almost out of the tank. He slaps the cop with a heavy, meaty sound, dubbed.» Harshaw glanced up and said, «Pick up from there.» A car was rolling up the hill toward the house.
Jill was driving; a young man was beside her. As the car stopped the man jumped out, as if happy to divorce himself from it. «There she is, Jubal.»
«So I see. Good morning, little girl. Larry, where is this corpse?»
«Back seat, Boss. Under a blanket.»
«But it's not a corpse,» Jill protested. «It's … Ben said that you … I mean — » She put her head down and sobbed.
«There, my dear,» Harshaw said gently. «Few corpses are worth tears. Dorcas — Miriam — take care of her. Give her a drink and wash her face.»
He went to the back seat, lifted the blanket. Jill shrugged off Miriam's arm and said shrilly, «You've got to listen! He's not dead. At least I hope not. He's … oh dear!» She started to cry again. «I'm so dirty … and so scared!»
«Seems to be a corpse,» Harshaw mused. «Body temperature down to air temperature, I judge. Rigor not typical. How long has he been dead?»
«But he's not! Can't we get him out of there? I had an
«Surely. Larry, help me — and quit looking green; if you puke, you'll clean it up.» They got Valentine Michael Smith out and laid him on the grass; his body remained stiff, huddled together. Dorcas fetched Dr. Harshaw's stethoscope, set it on the ground, switched it on and stepped up the gain.
Harshaw stuck the headpiece in his ears, started sounding for heart beat. «I'm afraid you're mistaken,» he said gently to Jill. «This one is beyond my help. Who was he?»
Jill sighed. Her face was drained of expression and she answered in a flat voice, «He was the Man from Mars. I tried so hard.»
«I'm sure you did —
«Yes. Ben … Ben Caxton said you were the one to come to.»
«Ben Caxton, eh? I appreciate the confid —
«Right away!»
«Doctor, no stimulants!»
Harshaw turned to Jill. «Eh?»
«I'm sorry, sir. I'm just a nurse … but this case is different. I
«Mmm … he's my patient now, nurse. But about forty years ago I found out I wasn't God, and ten years later I discovered I wasn't even Aesculapius. What do you want to try?»
«I want to try to wake him. If you do anything to him, he goes deeper into it.»
«Hmm … go ahead. Just don't use an ax. Then we'll try my methods.»
«Yes, sir.» Jill knelt, started trying to straighten Smith's limbs. Harshaw's eyebrows went up when he saw her succeed. Jill took Smith's head in her lap. «Please wake up,» she said softly. «This is your
Slowly the chest lifted. Smith let out a long sigh and his eyes opened. He looked up at Jill and smiled his baby smile. He looked around, the smile left him.
«It's all right,» Jill said quickly. «These are friends.»
«Friends?»
«All of them are your friends. Don't worry — and don't go away again. Everything is all right.»
He lay quiet with eyes open, staring at everything. He seemed as content as a cat in a lap.
Twenty-five minutes later both patients were in bed. Jill had told Harshaw, before the pill he gave her took hold, enough to let him know that he had a bear by the tail. He looked at the utility car Jill had arrived in. Lettered across it was: READING RENTALS — Permapowered Ground Equipment — «Deal with the Dutchman!»
«Larry, is the fence hot?»
«No.»
«Switch it on. Then polish every fingerprint off that heap. When it gets dark, drive over the other side of Reading — better go almost to Lancaster — and leave it in a ditch. Then go to Philadelphia, catch the Scranton shuttle, come home from there.»
«Sure thing, Jubal. Say — is he
«Better hope not. If he is and they catch you before you dump that wagon and connect you with him, they'll quiz you with a blow torch. I think he is.»
«I scan it. Should I rob a bank on the way back?»
«Probably the safest thing you can do.»
«Okay, Boss.» Larry hesitated. «Mind if I stay over night in Philly?»
«Suit yourself. But what in God's name can a man do at night in Philadelphia?» Harshaw turned away. «Front!»
Jill slept until dinner, awoke refreshed and alert. She sniffed the air from the grille overhead and surmised that the doctor had offset the hypnotic with a stimulant. While she slept someone had removed her dirty torn clothes and had left a dinner dress and sandals. The dress was a fair fit; Jill concluded that it must belong to the one called Miriam. She bathed and painted and combed and went down to the living room feeling like a new woman.
Dorcas was curled in a chair, doing needle point; she nodded as if Jill were part of the family, turned back to her fancy work. Harshaw was stirring a mixture in a frosty pitcher. «Drink?» he said.
«Uh, yes, thank you.»
He poured large cocktail glasses to their brims, handed her one. «What is it?» she asked.
«My own recipe. One third vodka, one third muriatic acid, one third battery water — two pinches of salt and add pickled beetle.»
«Better have a highball,» Dorcas advised.
«Mind your business,» Harshaw said. «Hydrochloric acid aids digestion; the beetle adds vitamins and protein.» He raised his glass and said solemnly, «Here's to our noble selves! There are damned few of us left.» He emptied it.
