Murray Leinster (Duke Classic SiFi) (3 page)

Arthur made only a cursory examination of the village. His principal
motive in taking Estelle there was to give her some mental occupation
to ward off the reaction from the excitement of the cataclysm.

He looked into one or two of the tents and found merely couches of
hides, with minor domestic utensils scattered about. He brought
from one tent a bow and quiver of arrows. The workmanship was good,
but very evidently the maker had no knowledge of metal tools.

Arthur's acquaintance with archeological subjects was very slight,
but he observed that the arrow-heads were chipped, and not rubbed
smooth. They were attached to the shafts with strips of gut or
tendon.

Arthur was still pursuing his investigation when a sob from Estelle
made him stop and look at her.

"Oh, what are we going to do?" she asked tearfully. "What
are
we going to do? Where are we?"

"You mean,
when
are we," Arthur corrected with a grim smile. "I
don't know. Way back before the discovery of America, though. You
can see in everything in the village that there isn't a trace
of European civilization. I suspect that we are several thousand
years back. I can't tell, of course, but this pottery makes me
think so. See this bowl?"

He pointed to a bowl of red clay lying on the ground before one of
the wigwams.

"If you'll look, you'll see that it isn't really pottery at all. It's
a basket that was woven of reeds and then smeared with clay to
make it fire-resisting. The people who made that didn't know about
baking clay to make it stay put. When America was discovered nearly
all the tribes knew something about pottery."

"But what are we going to do?" Estelle tearfully insisted.

"We're going to muddle along as well as we can," answered Arthur
cheerfully, "until we can get back to where we started from. Maybe
the people back in the twentieth century can send a relief party
after us. When the skyscraper vanished it must have left a hole
of some sort, and it may be possible for them to follow us down."

"If that's so," said Estelle quickly, "why can't we climb up it
without waiting for them to come after us?"

Arthur scratched his head. He looked across the clearing at the
skyscraper. It seemed to rest very solidly on the ground. He looked
up. The sky seemed normal.

"To tell the truth," he admitted, "there doesn't seem to be any
hole. I said that more to cheer you up than anything else."

Estelle clenched her hands tightly and took a grip on herself.

"Just tell me the truth," she said quietly. "I was rather foolish,
but tell me what you honestly think."

Arthur eyed her keenly.

"In that case," he said reluctantly, "I'll admit we're in a pretty
bad fix. I don't know what has happened, how it happened, or anything
about it. I'm just going to keep on going until I see a way clear
to get out of this mess. There are two thousand of us people,
more or less, and among all of us we must be able to find a way out."

Estelle had turned very pale.

"We're in no great danger from Indians," went on Arthur thoughtfully,
"or from anything else that I know of—except one thing."

"What is that?" asked Estelle quickly.

Arthur shook his head and led her back toward the skyscraper, which
was now thronged with the people from all the floors who had come
down to the ground and were standing excitedly about the concourse
asking each other what had happened.

Arthur led Estelle to one of the corners.

"Wait for me here," he ordered. "I'm going to talk to this crowd."

He pushed his way through until he could reach the confectionery and
news-stand in the main hallway. Here he climbed up on the counter
and shouted:

"People, listen to me! I'm going to tell you what's happened!"

In an instant there was dead silence. He found himself the center
of a sea of white faces, every one contorted with fear and anxiety.

"To begin with," he said confidently, "there's nothing to be afraid
of. We're going to get back to where we started from! I don't
know how, yet, but we'll do it. Don't get frightened. Now I'll
tell you what's happened."

He rapidly sketched out for them, in words as simple as he could make
them, his theory that a flaw in the rock on which the foundations
rested had developed and let the skyscraper sink, not downward,
but into the Fourth Dimension.

"I'm an engineer," he finished. "What nature can do, we can
imitate. Nature let us into this hole. We'll climb out. In the
mean time, matters are serious. We needn't be afraid of not getting
back. We'll do that. What we've got to fight is—starvation!"

"We've got to fight starvation, and we've got to beat it," Arthur
continued doggedly. "I'm telling you this right at the outset,
because I want you to begin right at the beginning and pitch in to
help. We have very little food and a lot of us to eat it. First,
I want some volunteers to help with rationing. Next, I want every
ounce of food, in this place put under guard where it can be served
to those who need it most. Who will help out with this?"

The swift succession of shocks had paralyzed the faculties of most
of the people there, but half a dozen moved forward. Among them was
a single gray-haired man with an air of accustomed authority. Arthur
recognized him as the president of the bank on the ground floor.

"I don't know who you are or if you're right in saying what has
happened," said the gray-haired man. "But I see something's got to
be done, and—well, for the time being I'll take your word for what
that is. Later on we'll thrash this matter out."

Arthur nodded. He bent over and spoke in a low voice to the
gray-haired man, who moved away.

"Grayson, Walters, Terhune, Simpson, and Forsythe come here,"
the gray-haired man called at a doorway.

A number of men began to press dazedly toward him. Arthur resumed
his harangue.

"You people—those of you who aren't too dazed to think—are
remembering there's a restaurant in the building and no need to
starve. You're wrong. There are nearly two thousand of us here. That
means six thousand meals a day. We've got to have nearly ten tons
of food a day, and we've got to have it at once."

"Hunt?" some one suggested.

"I saw Indians," some one else shouted. "Can we trade with them?"

"We can hunt and we can trade with the Indians," Arthur admitted,
"but we need food by the ton—by the ton, people! The Indians don't
store up supplies, and, besides, they're much too scattered to have
a surplus for us. But we've got to have food. Now, how many of you
know anything about hunting, fishing, trapping, or any possible
way of getting food?"

There were a few hands raised—pitifully few. Arthur saw Estelle's
hand up.

"Very well," he said. "Those of you who raised your hands then
come with me up on the second floor and we'll talk it over.
The rest of you try to conquer your fright, and don't go outside
for a while. We've got some things to attend to before it will
be quite safe for you to venture out. And keep away from the
restaurant. There are armed guards over that food. Before we pass
it out indiscriminately, we'll see to it there's more for to-morrow
and the next day."

He stepped down from the counter and moved toward the stairway. It
was not worth while to use the elevator for the ride of only one
floor. Estelle managed to join him, and they mounted the steps
together.

"Do you think we'll pull through all right?" she asked quietly.

"We've got to!" Arthur told her, setting his chin firmly. "We've
simply got to."

The gray-haired president of the bank was waiting for them at the
top of the stairs.

"My name is Van Deventer," he said, shaking hands with Arthur,
who gave his own name.

"Where shall our emergency council sit?" he asked.

"The bank has a board room right over the safety vault. I dare say we
can accommodate everybody there—everybody in the council, anyway."

Arthur followed into the board-room, and the others trooped in
after him.

"I'm just assuming temporary leadership," Arthur explained, "because
it's imperative some things be done at once. Later on we can talk
about electing officials to direct our activities. Right now we
need food. How many of you can shoot?"

About a quarter of the hands were raised. Estelle's was among
the number.

"And how many are fishermen?"

A few more went up.

"What do the rest of you do?"

There was a chorus of "gardener," "I have a garden in my yard,"
"I grow peaches in New Jersey," and three men confessed that they
raised chickens as a hobby.

"We'll want you gardeners in a little while. Don't go yet. But the
most important are huntsmen and fishermen. Have any of you weapons
in your offices?"

A number had revolvers, but only one man had a shotgun and shells.

"I was going on my vacation this afternoon straight from the office,"
he explained, "and have all my vacation tackle."

"Good man!" Arthur exclaimed. "You'll go after the heavy game."

"With a shotgun?" the sportsman asked, aghast.

"If you get close to them a shotgun will do as well as anything,
and we can't waste a shell on every bird or rabbit. Those shells of
yours are precious. You other fellows will have to turn fishermen
for a while. Your pistols are no good for hunting."

"The watchmen at the bank have riot guns," said Van Deventer,
"and there are one or two repeating-rifles there. I don't know
about ammunition."

"Good! I don't mean about the ammunition, but about the guns. We'll
hope for the ammunition. You fishermen get to work to improvise
tackle out of anything you can get hold of. Will you do that?"

A series of nods answered his question.

"Now for the gardeners. You people will have to roam through the
woods in company with the hunters and locate anything in the way of
edibles that grows. Do all of you know what wild plants look like?
I mean wild fruits and vegetables that are good to eat."

A few of them nodded, but the majority looked dubious. The consensus
of opinion seemed to be that they would try. Arthur seemed a little
discouraged.

"I guess you're the man to tell about the restaurant," Van Deventer
said quietly. "And as this is the food commission, or something of
that sort, everybody here will be better for hearing it. Anyway,
everybody will have to know it before night. I took over the
restaurant as you suggested, and posted some of the men from the
bank that I knew I could trust about the doors. But there was
hardly any use in doing it."

"The restaurant stocks up in the afternoon, as most of its
business is in the morning and at noon. It only carries a day's
stock of foodstuffs, and the—the cataclysm, or whatever it was,
came at three o'clock. There is practically nothing in the place.
We couldn't make sandwiches for half the women that are caught
with us, let alone the men. Everybody will go hungry to-night.
There will be no breakfast to-morrow, nor anything to eat until we
either make arrangements with the Indians for some supplies or else
get food for ourselves."

Arthur leaned his jaw on his hand and considered. A slow flush
crept over his cheek. He was getting his fighting blood up.

At school, when he began to flush slowly his schoolmates had known
the symptom and avoided his wrath. Now he was growing angry with
mere circumstances, but it would be none the less unfortunate for
those circumstances.

"Well," he said at last deliberately, "we've got to— What's that?"

There was a great creaking and groaning. Suddenly a sort of
vibration was felt under foot. The floor began to take on a slight
slant.

"Great Heaven!" some one cried. "The building's turning over and
we'll be buried in the ruins!"

The tilt of the floor became more pronounced. An empty chair slid
to one end of the room. There was a crash.

Arthur woke to find some one tugging at his shoulders, trying to drag
him from beneath the heavy table, which had wedged itself across
his feet and pinned him fast, while a flying chair had struck him
on the head and knocked him unconscious.

"Oh, come and help," Estelle's voice was calling
deliberately. "Somebody come and help! He's caught in here!"

She was sobbing in a combination of panic and some unknown emotion.

"Help me, please!" she gasped, then her voice broke despondently,
but she never ceased to tug ineffectually at Chamberlain, trying
to drag him out of the mass of wreckage.

Arthur moved a little, dazedly.

"Are you alive?" she called anxiously. "Are you alive? Hurry, oh,
hurry and wriggle out. The building's falling to pieces!"

"I'm all right," Arthur said weakly. "You get out before it all
comes down."

"I won't leave you," she declared "Where are you caught? Are you
badly hurt? Hurry, please hurry!"

Arthur stirred, but could not loosen his feet. He half-rolled over,
and the table moved as if it had been precariously balanced, and slid
heavily to one side. With Estelle still tugging at him, he managed
to get to his feet on the slanting floor and stared about him.

Arthur continued to stare about.

"No danger," he said weakly. "Just the floor of the one room gave
way. The aftermath of the rock-flaw."

He made his way across the splintered flooring and piled-up chairs.

"We're on top of the safe-deposit vault," he said. "That's why
we didn't fall all the way to the floor below. I wonder how we're
going to get down?"

Estelle followed him, still frightened for fear of the building
falling upon them. Some of the long floor-boards stretched over
the edge of the vault and rested on a tall, bronze grating that
protected the approach to the massive strong-box. Arthur tested
them with his foot.