Fredric Brown - The Mind Thing

“Doctor, when I came—how did you know I wasn’t—the enemy? You could have shot me in the leg easily enough.”

He laughed. “It never occurred to me. And if it had, the bull coming right after you would have been proof enough. The thing we’re most certain of is that he can’t control more than one host at a time.” He stood up and stretched his arms, fighting back a yawn. “Well, to my cold tub. And I’ll make circuits of the upstairs windows while the water’s running. You won’t have to, until after you hear it stop.”

He went upstairs, and half an hour later he came back down, looking at least outwardly refreshed. Miss Talley had finished eating and they sat in the living room and took turns talking. Doc insisted on making periodic rounds of the windows himself instead of letting her do it. He explained that the danger of his going to sleep if she left him alone was a more important factor than his doing an occasional bit of walking.

The hours dragged. One or the other of them thought of a dozen things to try, but for one reason or another had to reject each as impractical or too dangerous. Once Doc verified that the siege was still on by stepping outside with the shotgun. When he saw a high-circling bird start a dive, he fired at it without waiting for it to get close. But if any of the pellets hit and wounded it, the wound was insufficient to deflect it and he had to use the second barrel when it was dangerously close. Even then he had to jump back the instant he fired or the bird would have hit him. It thudded against the doorsill. He reloaded the shotgun before using its muzzle to push the dead bird—it was, or had been, a chicken hawk off the porch.

Blood had spattered on his shoes and the cuffs of his trousers. He went upstairs to change them and to take another cold bath; he’d left the water in the tub, since he’d realized while taking the first one that even the hundred gallons that he estimated had been in the tank wouldn’t fill the tub too many times. The second bath didn’t help much; in fact, he almost went to sleep in the tub and he realized that he was almost at the limit of his ability to stay awake.

When he came downstairs he told Miss Talley so, and asked her to bring in a pan of cold water and a glass, and to keep the glass filled, or half filled, from the pan. She should sit facing him, he told her, with the glass in her hand, and throw water in his face whenever she might see his eyes close longer than to blink. She brought the water, and also a towel for him to use in case she had to use the water.

Twice within the next hour she had to throw water in his face. Both times he’d been talking and had stopped in the middle of a sentence as his eyes went shut. It was six o’clock when it happened the second time; it would be dark within another hour or so. He doubted that he could possibly stay awake even that long, and certainly not much longer.

When he had dried his face with the towel, he stood up, swaying a bit. “Miss Talley,” he said, “it’s no use going on this way; even if I put carpet tacks on a chair and sit on them I’ll lose consciousness eventually. We’ve got to do one of two things. There’s danger in both of them, for you as well as for me, so I’m going to let you decide which we should do.

“One, I leave now while there’s time for me to walk to town—or at least to the nearest farm that has a telephone. I’ll take the shotgun and leave you the pistol. Maybe I’ll make it; maybe we’re overestimating the danger and overestimating the range at which the enemy can operate. Anyway, if I do make it I’ll see that you’re rescued. There’ll be state police, several carloads of them with shotguns and tommy guns… If I don’t get through—”

“No,” Miss Talley said firmly. “If you go, we both go, and I do the driving. Or afoot, if you think there’s any advantage to that. But why would there be?”

“It should keep me awake, for one thing. And for another, I can watch upward. As I said before, a heavy bird diving from a sufficient height would probably go right through the roof of a car as light as that, and kill whichever one of us it landed on. But your going with me wasn’t the alternative to my first suggestion. I don’t know whether the alternative is more dangerous, or less.

“It’s simply that I go to sleep, here in this room on the sofa, but that we take the precaution of having you tie me up first. There’s fifty feet of clothesline in the kitchen, so you can do a thorough job of it. First, our idea of what may happen to me if I sleep is only a deduction; we can be wrong. Second, if the enemy does take me over, I’ll be tied up so he’ll be helpless to make me do anything, such as injure you, and also unable to make me kill myself so he’ll be free to take another host. And that would mean it would be safe for you to drive into town and bring help.”

“But—what kind of help, if you’re—”

“We can’t figure that till we see what happens. But if you’re the one who gets to town, there’ll be no hurry. Get your story—and take my statements with you to supplement it—before the highest authority you can reach. It’ll be out of our hands and somebody will have to take over from there. Preferably the F. B. I.\~ Phone them first and try to get either Roger Price or Bill Kellerman on the line; they’re both friends of mine and will be more likely to take you seriously. You can remember the names, or do you want me to write them down?”

“Roger Price or Bill Kellerman. I’ll remember. But—how would I know it would be safe for me to drive to town? Unless—well, unless once you go to sleep you wake up and act crazy, try to get out of the ropes or—or something like that?”

“If I do that, you’ll know, of course. If I don’t, you’ll have to take the risk of doing what I did a little while ago. Step out on the porch with the shotgun and—well, see if anything attacks you. If nothing does, you’ll have to take the chance that nothing will. Or—wait, you don’t even have to take the chance. Once I’m tied up, and whether or not I’m still—myself, you can just wait it out until the sheriff shows up sometime tomorrow. That’s safer for you; I should have thought of it first. I’m so sleepy that I’m not thinking clearly any more.”

“All right,” Miss Talley said. “I like that better than letting you try to make it to town alone. Or, for that matter, even both of us trying together.”

“I’ll get the rope then.”

She went out into the kitchen with him and while he got the length of rope, she got a knife to cut it with.

Back in the living room Doc took the pistol from his pocket and put it and the ammunition for it and the shotgun on the mantel. He leaned the shotgun against the wall beside the front door. “Keep all those things out of my reach,” he told her. “The knife too, once you’ve finished using it on the rope. Tie my hands first, behind me, then I’ll lie down for you to tie my ankles.” He turned his back to her and held his hands behind him for her to work on. “Listen, if I do go crazy and try to get out of the ropes, don’t take any chances on what I might do. Hit me on the head with the pistol butt and knock me out. But try not to kill me; if the enemy is in control of me—and he will be if I try to escape—killing me would free him to take other hosts again and you’d be back where you were before. He might even take you over if you shouldn’t be able to stay awake until the sheriff gets here tomorrow.”

Miss Talley was working on the knot. “Are you sure that this isn’t even more dangerous than—than trying to get to town?”

“Of course I’m not sure, but I think so. I’m almost sure that it’s safer for you, and not any more dangerous for me.”