Philip Dick - A Maze of Death

Morley said, “Take off again. Fly in widening circles. I’m looking for a settlement that’s in this area.” He chose a course at random. “Fly slightly northeast.”

“Yesss sirrr.” The squib pulsed with new activity and then, in a professional, competent way, rose up into the sky.

Again he rested, but this time lying so that he could perpetually scan the viewscreen. He did not really think that they would be successful; the settlement was small and the funky landscape was enormous. But—what was the alternative?

To go back to the Building. And now he had a firm, physical revulsion toward it; his earlier desire to enter it had evaporated.

It is not a winery, he said to himself. But what the hell is it, then?

He did not know. And he hoped he never would.

Something glinted to the right. Something metallic. He roused himself groggily. Looking at the control board clock he saw that the squib had been flying in widening circles for almost an hour. Did I drift off? he wondered. Squinting, he peeped to see what had glinted. Small buildings.

He said, “That’s it.”

“Shall I land there?”

“Yes.” He hunched forward, straining to see. Straining to be sure.

It was the settlement.

A small—heartbreakingly small—group of men and women trudged wanly up to the parked squib as Seth Morley activated the electrical dehatching mechanism. They stared at him bleakly as he stumbled out, stood swaying, trying to get control of his waning vitality.

There they were. Russell, looking stern. His wife Mary, her face taut with alarm—then relief at seeing him. Wade Frazer, who looked tired. Dr. Milton Babble, chewing on his pipe in a reflexive, pointless way. Ignatz Thugg was not among them.

Neither was Glen Belsnor.

Leadenly, Seth Morley said, “Belsnor is dead, isn’t he?”

They nodded.

Russell said. “You’re the first of all of them to come back. We noticed late last night that Belsnor wasn’t guarding us. We got to him at the infirmary door; he was already dead.”

“Electrocuted,” Dr. Babble said.

“And you were gone,” Mary said. Her eyes remained glazed and hopeless, despite his return.

“You better get back into bed in the infirmary,” Babble said to him. “I don’t know how you could still be alive. Look at you; you’re drenched with blood.”

Together, they assisted him back to the infirmary. Mary fussily made up the bed; Seth Morley, swaying, stood waiting and then let them stretch his body out, propped up by pillows.

“I’m going to work on your shoulder some more,” Babble said to him. “I think the artery is allowing seepage out into the—”

Seth Morley said, “We’re on Earth.”

They stared at him. Babble froze; he turned toward Seth, then mechanically returned to his task of fumbling with a tray of surgical instruments. Time passed, but no one spoke.

“What is the Building?” Wade Frazer said, at last.

“I don’t know. But they say I was there, once.” So on some level I do know, he realized. Maybe we all do. Perhaps at some time in the past all of us were there. Together.

“Why are they killing us?” Babble said.

“I don’t know that either,” Seth Morley answered.

Mary said, “How do you know we’re on Earth?”

“I was at London a little while ago. I saw it, the ancient, abandoned city. Mile after mile of it. Thousands of decaying, deserted houses, factories and streets. Bigger than any nonterran city anywhere in the galaxy. Where at one time six million people lived.”

Wade Frazer said, “But there’s nothing on Terra except the aviary! And nobody except ostriches!”

“Plus Interplan West military barracks and research installations,” Seth Morley said, but his voice ebbed; it lacked conviction and enthusiasm. “We’re an experiment,” he said, anyhow. “As we guessed last night. A military experiment being carried out by General Treaton.” But he did not believe it either. “What kind of military personnel wear black leather uniforms?” he said. “And jackboots… I think they’re called.”

Russell, in a modulated, disinterested voice, said, “Aviary guards. A sop to keep up their morale. It’s very discouraging to work around ostriches; introduction of the new uniforms, three or four years back, has done a great deal of morale-boosting for the personnel.”

Turning toward him, Mary said searchingly, “How do you happen to know that?”

“Because,” Russell said, still calm. “I am one of them.” Reaching into his jacket he brought out a small, shiny erggun. “We carry this type of weapon.” He held the gun pointed toward them, meanwhile motioning them to stand closer together. “It was one chance out of a million that Morley got away.” Russell pointed to his right ear. “They’ve been periodically keeping me informed. I knew he was on his way back here, but I—and my various superiors—never thought he’d arrive.” He smiled at them. Graciously.

A sharp thump sounded. Loudly.

Russell half-turned, lowered his erggun and slumped down, letting the weapon fall. What is it? Seth Morley asked himself; he sat up, trying to see. He made out a shape, the shape of a man, walking into the room. The Walker? he thought. The Walker-on-Earth come to save us? The man held a gun—an old-fashioned lead slug pistol. Belsnor’s gun, he realized. But Ignatz Thugg has it. He did not understand. Neither did the others; they milled about incoherently as the man, holding the pistol, walked up to them.

It was Ignatz Thugg.

On the floor, Russell lay dying. Thugg bent, picked up the erggun, and put it away in his belt.

“I came back,” Thugg said grimly.

“Did you hear him?” Seth Morley said. “Did you hear Russell say that—”

Thugg said, “I heard him.” He hesitated, then brought out the erggun; he handed it to Morley. “Somebody get the tranquilizer gun,” he said. “We’ll need all three. Are there any more? In the squib?”

“Two in the squib,” Seth Morley said, accepting the erggun from Thugg. You’re not going to kill us? he wondered. The psychopathic countenance of Ignatz Thugg had relaxed; the strained attentiveness which had marked Thugg had relented. Thugg looked calm and alert; sanely so.

“You’re not my enemies,” Thugg said. “They are.” He gestured with Belsnor’s pistol toward Russell. “I knew someone in the group was; I thought it was Belsnor, but I was wrong. I’m sorry.” He was silent for a time.

The rest of them remained silent, too. Waiting to see what would happen. It would come soon, they all knew. Five weapons, Seth Morley said to himself. Pitiful. They have air-to-ground missiles, .88 millimeter cannon—God knows what else. Is it worth it, trying to fight them?

“It is,” Thugg said, evidently reading his expression.

Seth Morley said, “I think you’re right.”

“I think I know,” Wade Frazer said, “what this experiment is all about.” The others waited for him to go on but he did not.

“Say it,” Babble said.

“Not until I’m sure,” Frazer said.

Seth Morley thought, I think I know, too. And Frazer is right; until we know absolutely, until we have total proof, we had better not even discuss it.

“I knew we were on Terra,” Mary Morley said quietly. “I recognized the moon; I’ve seen Luna in pictures… a long time ago when I was a child.”

“And what did you infer from that?” Wade Frazer said.

Mary said, “I—” She hesitated, glancing at her husband. “Isn’t it a military experiment by Interplan West? As all of us suspected?”

“Yes,” Seth Morley said.

“There’s another possibility,” Wade Frazer said.

“Don’t say it,” Seth Morley said.