Frowning, he stared out the window. He heard again the distant din that had awakened him—the faint hooting, and the low mumble of far voices.
Radios, of course! Innumerable radios had been left turned on when the evacuation had taken place, and they were still broadcasting. That meant there was still electricity. Relieved, Court found heating pads and pressed them into place about his two patients.
Little artificial respiration was necessary. Under the shock of the adrenalin, first the giant, and then the Oriental, stirred. They wakened almost together.
Court gave a gasp of relief. Till then he had not realized just how much his fortnight of hypnotized slumber had weakened him. Despite slowed and retarded metabolism, he had not eaten nor drunk for weeks. Shivering, he sank down on a cot and watched his patients slowly and gradually awaken.
There was so much to do! He must communicate with these two. But what language did they speak? Would they be able to understand Latin? After that, there would be so many things! Find out what had happened, leave New York safely—
'But the first thing,' Court murmured, 'is to stow some food under my belt. No,' he resolved, glancing down at his nightgown. 'The first thing I need is a pair of pants!'
CHAPTER XV
Under the Plague
It was nearly an hour later when Court finally finished his story and learned from Li Yang and Scipio their own tale. Luckily both understood Latin. When Court's knowledge of the language failed, he pieced it out in Greek, which Scipio knew.
'I am familiar with all the tongues spoken around the Middle Sea—the Mediterranean,' the huge Carthaginian stated. 'This English of yours sounds like a hybrid language, a mixture of Latin, Greek, Goth, and Zeus knows what else. However, I will learn it. We had a saying that those in Helvetia had best do as the Helvetians do, though all they generally did was freeze.'
Scipio chuckled deep in his barrel chest.
'We have a saying that jackasses bray at inopportune moments,' said Li Yang blandly. 'Therefore, hold your tongue, Scipio, while we make some plans.' He sighed ponderously. 'So Ardath is dead, eh? Eheu, he was a wise man, and a good one. Also I have lost my lute, so I grieve.'
'I scarcely knew Ardath,' Scipio confessed, 'though he saved my life, of course. But the nymph-girl, Jansaiya—I needed only a glimpse of her to lose my heart and soul.' The gargoyle face twisted in pained memory. 'What had we best do, Court?'
'Get out of New York. After that, we can make our plans. I want to get back to my laboratory. But first—well, come along.'
Court rose and led the others into the corridor. Li Yang shivered as the chill wind rustled under his scanty gown.
'The world has grown colder,' he mourned. 'Not even on the Northern steppes did I feel such a knifelike blast.'
Court was unavailingly pressing the elevator buttons.
'Guess they're not working,' he said wryly. 'That means we'll have to walk all the way down. It'll keep us warm, anyway. Watch out for any Carriers.'
Scipio shook his head as the three hurried down the stairs.
'I do not understand this Plague. Civilizations change, of course. New gods and new magics spring up. But what you tell me of this Plague smacks of the vrykrolokas, the vampire.'
The others had no breath for talking. Scipio continued to muse aloud as they descended. When they reached the street, though, he was the only one who was not panting.
'Zeus, Apollo, Kronos, and Neptune!' he roared, staring up at the skyscrapers. 'Surely the gods must have reared these buildings!'
'Did gods build the Nilotic pyramids?' Li Yang asked with breathless irony. 'Men learn always, and always they build higher. But my poor toes will be frozen!' He danced about grotesquely in the slush. 'You are a hardy race, Court, to walk about in these skimpy togas.' Court was glancing about swiftly.
'Come in here,' he said.
He hurried toward a nearby shop. He had seen that the window was broken, and a burglar alarm was clanging loudly from within. That explained the medley of noises he had heard from the hospital. Hundreds of burglar alarms, all over New York, were screaming. The mobs must have looted during their flight. This men's clothing shop had certainly been looted, judging by its appearance. Court could understand why property rights didn't mean much just now.
He guided Li Yang and Scipio to the various departments, and helped them outfit themselves with suitable clothing.
'Breeches and boots will be best, I think,' he suggested. 'We may have hard going. Pick out large-sized boots or you'll blister your feet in an hour.'
It was difficult to find clothing that fitted the gigantic Carthaginian, and even harder to equip Li Yang, but at last the task was finished. Completely clothed, even to fleece-lined gloves, the three returned to the street.
Now they needed food and drink. Down the avenue a little way was an Automat. Court led them into it, pausing at the entrance to examine a motionless, shrunken body that lay there.
It was the corpse of a man, emaciated and pallid, frozen rigid. It was oddly shriveled, which Court recognized as the stigmata of Plague victims. Though the man had certainly been dead since the evacuation of New York, there was no sign of decomposition.
'Draining of vital energy means absolute sterility, no germs or microbes—that's logical,' Court muttered.
At least there would be no danger of a pestilence. He smiled crookedly. Pestilence?
There was nobody to be harmed by it, anyway.
A radio in the Automat was humming noisily. Court hesitated, still inhibited by a lifetime of conditioning. But he went to the change desk, and appropriated a handful of nickels.
Supplying the others with trays, he carefully selected foods that appeared still edible. The coffee spigot ran a tar-colored, icy fluid. But it was somewhat better than the sour milk and stale water.
Court went to the radio and adjusted it. Then he joined the others at one of the round little tables.
'News,' he said, nodding at the box that was strange to them. 'I'll translate.'
'Static is becoming increasingly troublesome as the Plague grows,' the radio blared. 'The electrical energy emitted by She Carriers interferes with broadcasting. European shortwave transmission is impossible. The transoceanic cables have failed. From Washington, D.C., comes the latest European news, brought by Clipper across the Atlantic.
'The Plague seems to have concentrated its force so far in the Western Hemisphere, though its strength is increasing gradually in Europe. Ports are crowded as mobs try to storm their way on to ships outward bound. There is a feeling that on the high seas is safety. This is untrue.'
'The Hozima Maru, a passenger ship, was today washed upon the coast at Point Reyes, above San Francisco. Spectators reported that the only living beings aboard were several Carriers.'
In grim undertones Court translated.
'The Eastern Seaboard is still being evacuated,' the voice went on. 'The United States is under martial law. As yet the Plague remains a mystery, though all over the world, scientists are working night and day to check it. A scientific congress has been called at The Hague, to convene tomorrow at noon. .,
'We are still receiving reports about the mysterious golden airship which first appeared in Central Park, New York, two weeks ago. Since then it has landed eight times, always in a sparsely populated area. Unconfirmed reports state that men and women have been forced to enter the ship. Two hours ago, according to San Francisco's station KFRC, the ship landed on the Berkeley hills.'
Court's voice rose excitedly as he translated. Scipio sat back with a grunt, and the Oriental pursed his red
