Clifford Simak - Our Children's Children

So it was thought by the newsmen present not at all unusual when, late in the evening, he appeared at the site where the tunnel had been closed upon the emergence of the monsters.

The newsmen clustered around the old man.

"What are you doing here, Dr. Windsor?" asked one of them.

"I came," said Dr. Angus, "to offer to these poor souls the small shreds of comfort it is in my power to dispense. I had a slight amount of trouble with the military. I understand they are letting no one in. But I see they let you people in."

"Some of us talked our way in. Others parked a mile or so away and walked."

"The good Lord interceded for me," said Dr. Angus, "and they let me through the barricade."

"How did He intercede for you?"

"He softened their hearts toward me and then they let me go. But now I must speak to these poor folks."

He motioned at the scattered groups of refugees standing in the yards and along the street.

The dead monster lay upon its back, with its clawed feet sticking in the air and its limp tentacles lying snakelike along the ground. Most of the human bodies at the tunnel mouth had been moved. A few still lay here and there, shadowed lumps upon the grass, covered by blankets. The gun lay where it had been toppled on its side.

"The army is sending out a team" said one of the newsmen, "to haul in the monster. They want to have a good look at him."

The spotlights mounted in the trees cast a ghastly radiance over the area where the tunnel mouth had lain. Off in the darkness the generator engine coughed and sputtered. Trucks pulled in, loaded up and left. On occasion the bullhorn still roared out its orders.

Dr. Windsor, with an instinct born of long practice, headed unerringly for the largest group of refugees, huddled at an intersection beneath a swaying streetlamp. Most of them were standing on the pavement, but others sat upon the curbs and there were small groups of them scattered on the lawns.

Dr. Windsor came up to a group of women — he always zeroed in on women; they were more receptive to his particular brand of Christianity than were men.

"I have come," he said, making a conscious effort to hold down his pomposity, "to offer you the comfort of the Lord. In times like this, we should always turn to Him."

The women stared at him in some amazement. Some of them instinctively backed away.

"I'm the Reverend Windsor," he told them, "and I came from Washington. I go where I am called. I go to meet a need. I wonder, would you pray with me?"

A tall, slender grandmotherly woman stepped to the forefront of the group. "Please go away," she said.

Dr. Windsor fluttered his hands, stricken off balance. "But I don't understand," he said. "I only meant…"

"We know what you meant," the woman told him, "and we thank you for the thought. We know it was only kindness in you."

"You can't mean what you are saying," said Dr. Windsor, who, by now, was flustered. "You cannot hope, by your word alone, to deprive all the others…"

A man came thrusting through the crowd and seized the pastor by the arm. "My friend," he said, "let us keep it down."

"But this woman…"

"I know. I heard what you said to her. It is not her choice only. She speaks for the rest of us."

"I fail to understand."

"There is no need for you to understand. Now will you please go."

"You reject me?"

"Not you, sir. Not personally. We reject the principle you stand for."

"You reject Christianity?"

"Not Christianity alone. In the Logic Revolution of a century ago, we rejected all religions. Our non-belief is as firm a faith as is your belief. We do not thrust our principles on you. Will you please not thrust yours on us?"

"This is incredible," said the Reverend Dr. Windsor. "I can't believe my ears. I will not believe it. There must be some mistake. I had only meant to join with you in prayer."

"But, parson, we no longer pray."

Dr. Windsor turned about, went blundering up the street, toward the waiting newsmen, who had trailed after him. He shook his head, bewildered. It was unbelievable. It could not be right. It was inconceivable. It was blasphemous.

After all the years of man's agony, after all the searching for the truth, after all the saints and martyrs, it could not come to this!

General Daniel Foote, commandant at Fort Myer, was waiting for them with the three men in his office.

"You should not have come alone," he said to Wilson. "I said so to the President, but he would not listen. I offered to send an escort, but he vetoed the idea. He said he wanted to draw no attention to the car."

"There was little traffic on the road," said Wilson.

The commandant shook his head. "These are unsettled times," he said.

"General Foote, may I present Miss Alice Gale. Her father is the man who contacted us."

The general said, "I am glad to make your acquaintance, Miss Gale. These three gentlemen have told me something of your father. And Mr. Black. I'm glad you are along with them."

"Thank you, sir," said Black.

"I should like the privilege," Alice said, "of introducing my own people. Dr. Hardwicke, Dr. Nicholas Hardwicke, Mr. Wilson, Mr. Black. Dr. Hardwicke is a sort of Albert Einstein of our time."

The big, ungainly, bear-like man smiled at her. "You must not praise me unduly, my dear," he said. "They'll expect far too much of me. Gentlemen, I am very pleased to be here and to meet you. It is time we were getting on in this matter which must be somewhat unpleasant to you. I am glad to see you reacting so promptly and so positively. Your president must be a most unusual man."

"We think so," Wilson said.

"Dr. William Cummings," said Alice. "Dr. Hardwicke was a fellow townsman of ours, but Dr. Cummings came from the Denver region. My father and the others thought it would be best if he were with Dr. Hardwicke when they met your scientists."

Cummings was a shrimp — small, bald, with a wrinkled, elfin face. "I am glad to be here," he said. "We all are glad to be here. We must tell you how deeply we regret what happened at the tunnel."

"And, finally," said Alice, "Dr. Abner Osborne. He is a longtime family friend."

Osborne put an arm about the girl's shoulders and hugged her. "These other gentlemen," he said, "are physicists, but I'm a more lowly creature. I am a geologist. Tell me, my dear, how is your father? I looked for him after we came through, but couldn't seem to find him."

The commandant plucked at Wilson's sleeve and the press secretary moved to one side with him.

"Tell me," said General Foote, "what you know of the monster."

"We've heard nothing further. We have assumed it would head for the mountains."

Foote nodded. "I think you may be right. We have had a few reports. Not reports, really. More like rumors. They all came from the west. Harpers Ferry. Strasburg. Luray. They must be wrong. Nothing could travel that fast. Are you absolutely sure there was only one of them?"

"You should know," said Wilson, curtly. "Your men were there. Our report was that one was killed. The other got away."

"Yes, yes, I know," said Foote. "We are bringing in the dead one."

The general was upset, thought Wilson. He was jittery. Was there something he knew that the White House did not know?

"Are you trying to tell me something, General?"

"No. Not at all," he said.

The son of a bitch, Wilson told himself. All he was doing was trying to wangle something straight out of the White House. Something that, at some later time, he could talk about when he was sitting in the officers' club.

"I think," said Wilson, "that we had best get started."

Outside they got into the car, Black in front with the driver, Wilson and Osborne on the jump seats.