Джон Кэмпбелл - Frozen Hell

“He’s—all right ?” Powell gasped. “Then—the animal is dead—dead forever?”

“He is human.” Copper spoke definitively, “And the animal is dead.”

Kinner burst out laughing, laughing hysterically. McReady turned toward him and slapped his face with a methodical one-two, one-two action. The cook laughed, gulped, cried a moment, and sat up rubbing his cheeks mumbling his thanks vaguely.

“Oh, Jesus, I was scared—God, I was scared—”

McReady laughed brittlely. “You think we weren’t, you ape? You think maybe Connant wasn’t?”

The Ad Building stirred with a sudden rejuvenation. Voices, laughter, the men clustering around Connant speaking with unnecessarily loud tones, those jittery, nervous voices relievedly friendly again. Somebody called out a suggestion, and a dozen started for their skis.

“Blair—Blair might recover—” Commander Garry said.

It was quickly decided. A party of relief assembled and set off for Blair’s shack skis clapping noisily. Down the corridor, the dogs set up a quick yelping howl as the air of excited relief reached them.

Dr. Copper fussed with his tubes. McReady noticed him first, sitting on the edge of the bunk, with two precipitin-whitened test-tubes of straw-colored fluid, his face whiter than the stuff in the tubes, silent tears slipping down horror-widened eyes.

McReady felt a cold knife of fear pierce through his heart and freeze in his breast. Something was wrong.

Dr. Copper looked up. “Garry,“ he called hoarsely, “Garry, for God’s sake come here.”

Commander Garry walked toward him sharply. Silence clapped down on the Ad Building. Connant looked up, rose stiffly from his seat.

“Garry—tissue from the monster—precipitates too. It proves nothing—nothing but—but the dog was monster-immune too—that one of the two contributing blood—one of us two, you and I, Garry—one of us is a monster!”

“Mac, call back those men before they tell Blair,” Garry said.

McReady went to the door; faintly his shouts came back to the tensely silent men in the room. Then McReady returned.

“They’re coming,” he said. “I didn’t tell them why, just that Dr. Copper said not to go.”

“Van Wall, “ Garry sighed, “You’re in command now. May God help you; I can not.”

Van Wall started slightly, looked with blank, dazed eyes toward Garry. “But—”

“But I may be the one, “ Garry answered. “I know I’m not, but I can’t prove it to you in any way. Dr. Copper’s test has broken down; the fact that he showed it was useless, when it was to the advantage of the monster to have that uselessness not known, would seem to prove he is human.”

Copper rocked back and forth slowly on the bunk. “I know I’m human. I can’t prove it, either. One of us two is a liar, for that test cannot lie, and it says one of us is. I gave a proof that the test was wrong, which seems to prove I’m human, and now Garry has given that argument which proves me human—which he, as the monster, should not do. Round and round and round and round—”

Dr. Copper’s head, then his neck and shoulder’s began circling slowly in time to the words. Suddenly he was lying back on the bunk, roaring with laughter. “It doesn’t have to prove one of us is a monster! It doesn’t have to prove that at all! Ho-ho—if we’re all monsters, it works the same! We’re all monsters—all of us—Connant and Garry and I—and all of you.”

“McReady,” Van Wall called softly, “you were on the way to an M.D. when you took up meteorology, weren’t you? Can you take over?”

McReady went over to Copper slowly, took the hypodermic from his hand, and washed it carefully in 95% alcohol. Garry sat on the bunk edge with wooden face, watching Copper and McReady expressionlessly.

“What Copper said is possible.” McReady sighed. “Van, will you help here. Thanks.”

The filled needle jabbed into Copper’s thigh. The man’s laughter did not stop, but slowly faded away into sobs, then sound sleep as the morphia took hold.

McReady turned again. The men who had started for Blair stood at the far end of the room, skis dripping snow, their faces as white as their skis. Connant had a lighted cigarette in each hand; one he was puffing absently, and staring at the floor. The heat of the one in his left hand attracted him and he stared at it, and the one in the other hand stupidly for a moment. He dropped one and crushed it under his heel slowly.

“Dr. Copper,” McReady repeated, “could be right. I know I’m human—but of course can’ t prove it. I’ll repeat the test for my own information. Any of you others who wish to may do the same.”

Two minutes later, McReady held a test-tube with white precipitin settling slowly from straw-colored serum. “It reacts to human blood too, so they aren’t the monsters.”

“I didn’t think they were.” Van Wall shrugged. “That wouldn’t suit the monster, either; we could have destroyed them if we knew. Why hasn’t the monster destroyed us, do you suppose? It seems to be loose.”

McReady snorted. Then laughed softly. “Elementary, my dear Watson. The monster wants to have life forms available. It cannot animate a dead body, apparently. It is just waiting, waiting until the best opportunities come. We who remain human—it is holding us in reserve.”

Kinner shuddered violently. “Hey. Hey Mac. Mac, would I know if I was a monster. Would I know if the monster had already got me? Oh, Jesus, I may be a monster already.”

“You’d know,” McReady answered.

“But we wouldn’t. “ Powell laughed shortly, half hysterically.

McReady looked at the vial of serum remaining. “There’s one thing this damned stuff is good for, at that,” he said thoughtfully. “Clark, will you and Van help me? The rest of the gang better stick together here. Keep an eye on each other,” he added bitterly. “See that you don’t get into mischief, shall we say?”

McReady started down the tunnel toward Dog Town, with Clark and Van Wall behind him.

“You need more serum? “ Clark asked.

McReady shook his head, “Tests. There’s four cows and a bull, and nearly seventy dogs down there, This stuff reacts only to human blood and—monsters.”

McReady came back to the Ad building and went silently to the washstand. Clark and Van Wall joined him a moment later. Clark’s lips had developed a tic, jerking into sudden, unexpected sneers.

“What did you do?” Connant exploded suddenly. “More immunizing?”

Clark snickered, and stopped with a hiccough. “Immunizing. Haw—immune all right.”

“That monster,” said Van Wall steadily, “is quite logical. Our immune dog was quite all right, and we drew a little more serum for the tests. But we won’t make any more.”

“Can’t—can’t you use one man’s blood on another dog—” Powell began.

“There aren’t,” said McReady softly, “any more dogs. Nor cattle, I might add.”

“No more—dogs?” Benning sat down slowly.

“They’re very nasty when they start changing,” Van Wall said precisely, “but slow. That electrocution-iron you made up, Barclay, is very fast. There is only one dog left, our immune. The monster left that for us so we could play with our little test. The rest—”

“The cattle—” gulped Kinner.

“Also. Reacted very nicely. They look funny as hell when they start melting. The beast hasn’t any quick escape when it’s tied in dog chains or halters, and it had to be to imitate.”

Kinner stood up slowly. His eyes darted around the room, and came to rest horribly quivering on a tin bucket in the galley. Slowly, step by step, he retreated toward the door, his mouth opening and closing silently, like a fish out of water.