Philip Dick - A Maze of Death

Russell said, “She was going for the gun; you’re right.”

“Then I didn’t do wrong,” Thugg said.

No one spoke for a time.

“I’m not giving up the gun,” Thugg said presently.

“That’s right, Thugg,” Babble said. “You keep hold of it. So we can see how many other innocent people you want to kill.”

“I didn’t want to kill her.” Thugg pointed the gun at Dr. Babble. “I’ve never killed nobody before. Who wants the gun?” He looked around, wildly, at all of them. “I did exactly what Belsnor did, no more and no less. We’re the same, him and me. So I’m sure as hell not going to give him the gun.” Panting, his breath rasping in his windpipe, Thugg gripped the gun and stared huge-eyed around at all of them.

Belsnor walked over to Seth Morley. “We’ve got to get it away from him.”

“I know,” Seth Morley said. But he could think of no way to get it. If Thugg had killed simply because someone—and a woman at that—had approached him reading from The Book, then he would shoot any and all of them at the slightest pretext.

Thugg now was blatantly and floridly psychotic. It was obvious. He had wanted to kill Maggie Walsh, and Seth Morley realized something now that he hadn’t understood before. Belsnor had killed but he had not wanted to. Thugg had killed for the pleasure of it.

It made a difference. They were safe from Belsnor—unless they became homicidal themselves. In that case, Belsnor would of course shoot. But if they did nothing provocative…

“Don’t,” his wife Mary said in his ear.

“We have to get the gun back,” Seth Morley said. “And it’s my fault he has it; I let him get it away from me.” He held out his hand, held it in Ignatz Thugg’s direction. “Give it to me,” he said, and felt his body squinch up in fear; his body prepared itself for death.

“He’ll kill you,” Russell said. He, too, walked toward Ignatz Thugg. Everyone else watched. “We need to have that gun,” Russell said to Thugg. To Seth Morley he said, “Probably he can get only one of us. I know that gun; it can’t be fired rapidly. He’ll be able to get off one shot and that’ll be it.” He moved to the other side of Thugg, approaching at a wide angle. “All right, Thugg,” he said, and held out his hand.

Thugg turned uncertainly toward him. Seth Morley moved rapidly forward, reaching.

“Goddam you, Morley,” Thugg said; the barrel of the gun swiveled back, but momentum carried Seth Morley forward. He collided with the skinny but muscular body of Ignatz Thugg—the man smelled of hair grease, urine and sweat.

“Get him now,” Belsnor yelled; he, too, ran at Thugg, reaching to grapple with him.

Cursing, Thugg tore away from Seth Morley. His face blank with psychopathic neutrality, his eyes glittering with cold, his mouth tormented into a squirming line, he fired.

Mary Morley shrieked.

Reaching with his left arm, Seth Morley touched his right shoulder and felt blood oozing through the fabric of his shirt. The noise of the shot had paralyzed him; he sank to his knees, convulsed by the pain, realizing in a dim way that Thugg had shot him in the shoulder. I’m bleeding, he thought. Christ, he thought, I didn’t get the gun from him. With effort he managed to open his eyes. He saw Thugg running; Thugg hurried away, pausing a time or two to fire. But he hit no one; they had all scattered, even Belsnor. “Help me,” Seth Morley grated, and Belsnor and Russell and Dr. Babble sneaked their way to him, their attention fixed on Thugg.

At the far end of the compound, by the entrance to the briefing room, Thugg halted; gasping for breath he aimed the gun at Seth Morley and fired one more shot. It passed Morley; it did not strike. Then with a shudder, Thugg turned away again and jogged off, leaving them.

“Frazer!” Babble exclaimed. “Help us get Morley into the infirmary! Come on; he’s bleeding from a severed artery, I think.”

Wade Frazer hurried over. He, Belsnor and Ned Russell lifted Seth up and began the task of carrying him to the doctor’s infirmary.

“You’re not going to croak,” Belsnor gasped as they laid him onto the long metal-topped table. “He got Maggie but he didn’t get you.” Standing back from the table, Belsnor got out a handkerchief and, shaking as he did so, blew his nose. “That pistol should have stayed with me. Can you see that now?”

“Shut up and get out of here,” Babble said, as he snapped on the sterilizer and rapidly placed surgical instruments in it. He then tied a tourniquet around Seth Morley’s injured shoulder. The flow of blood continued; it had now formed a pool on the table beside Seth Morley. “I’ll have to open him up, get the artery ends, and fuse them together,” he said. He tossed the tourniquet away, then turned on the artificial blood-supply machinery. Using a small surgical tool to drill a hole in Seth Morley’s side, he adroitly fastened the feedertube of the artificial blood-supply. “I can’t stop him from bleeding,” he said. “It’ll take ten minutes to dig in, get the artery ends and fuse them. But he won’t bleed to death.” Opening the sterilizer, he got out a tray of steaming tools. Expertly, hastily, he began to cut away Seth Morley’s clothing. A moment later and he had begun exploring the injured shoulder.

“We’re going to have to keep a continual watch for Thugg,” Russell said. “Damn it. I wish there were other weapons available. That one gun, and he’s got it.”

Babble said, “I have a tranquilizing gun.” He got out a set of keys, tossed them to Belsnor. “That locked cabinet over there.” He pointed. “The key with the diamond-shaped head.”

Russell unlocked the cabinet and got out a long tube with a telescopic sighting device on it. “Well, well,” he said. “These can be handy. But do you have any ammunition besides tranquilizers? I know the amount of tranquilizers these hold; it would stun him, maybe, but—”

“Do you want to finish him off?” Babble said, pausing in his investigation of Seth Morley’s shoulder.

Presently Belsnor said, “Yes.” Russell, too, nodded.

“I have other ammo for it,” Babble said. “Ammo that will kill. As soon as I’m finished with Morley I’ll get it.”

Lying on the table, Seth Morley managed to make out the sight of Babble’s tranquilizer gun. Will that protect us? he wondered. Or will Thugg make his way back here and kill all of us or possibly just kill me as I lie here helpless. “Belsnor,” he gasped, “don’t let Thugg come back here tonight and kill me.”

“I’ll stay here with you,” Belsnor said; he gave him a thump with the edge of his hand. “And we’ll be armed with this.” He held Babble’s tranquilizing gun, scrutinizing it. He seemed more confident, now. So did the others.

“Did you give Morley any Demerol?” Russell asked Dr. Babble.

“I don’t have time,” Babble said, and continued working. “I’ll give it to him,” Frazer said, “if you’ll tell me where it is and where the hypos are.”

“You aren’t qualified to do that,” Babble said. Frazer said, “And you’re not qualified to do surgery.”

“I have to,” Babble said. “If I don’t he’ll die. But he can get by without an analgesic.”

Mary Morley, crouching down so that her head was close to her husband’s, said, “Can you stand the pain?”

“Yes,” Seth Morley said tightly.

The operation continued.

He lay in semi-darkness. Anyhow the bullet is out of me, he thought drowsily. And I’ve had Demerol both intravenously and intermuscularly… and I feel nothing. Did he manage to stitch the artery properly? he wondered.

A complex machine monitored his internal activity: it kept note of his blood pressure, his heart rate, his temperature and his respiratory apparatus. But where’s Babble? he wondered. And Belsnor, where is he?