More Than Human

‘What?’

‘I guess she got a worse shock than I did. I wish you’d told me you had somebody in there with you. I wouldn’t’ve barged – ‘

‘Hip, what are you talking about? What happened?’

‘Oh!’ he said. ‘Omigosh. You came straight here – you haven’t been in your room yet.’

‘No. What on earth are you – ’

He said, actually blushing, ‘I wish she’d told you about it rather than me. Well, I suddenly had to see you, but bad. So I steamed across the hall and charged in, never dreaming there would be anyone but you there, and here I am halfway across the room before I could even stop, and there stood this friend of yours.’

‘Who? Hip, for heaven’s sake – ’

‘The woman. Had to be someone you know, Janie. Burglars aren’t likely to prance around naked.’

Janie put a slow hand up to her mouth.

‘A coloured woman. Girl. Young.’

‘Did she… what did she…’

‘I don’t know what she did. I didn’t get but a flash glimpse of her – if that’s any comfort to her. I hightailed right out of there. Aw, Janie, I’m sorry. I know it’s sort of embarrassing, but it can’t be that bad. Janie!’ he cried in alarm.

‘He’s found us… We’ve got to get out of here,’ she whispered. Her lips were nearly white; she was shaking. ‘Come on, oh, come on!’

‘Now wait! Janie, I got to talk to you. I – ‘

She whirled on him like a fighting animal. She spoke with such intensity that her words blurred. ‘Don’t talk! Don’t ask me. I can’t tell you; you wouldn’t understand. Just get out of here, get away.’ With astonishing power her hand closed on his arm and pulled. He took two ru

He did the only thing his body would do, without analysis or conscious decision. He found himself outside, ru

‘Taxi!’ she screamed.

The cab had barely begun to slow down when she had the door open. Hip fell in after her. ‘Go on,’ said Janie to the driver and knelt on the seat to peer through the rear window.

‘Go where?’ gasped the driver.

‘Just go. Hurry.’

Hip joined her at the window. All he could see was the dwindling house front, one or two gaping pedestrians.’ What was it? What happened?’

She simply shook her head.

‘What was it?’ he insisted. ‘The place going to explode or something?’

Again she shook her head. She turned away from the window and cowered into the corner. Her white teeth scraped and scraped at the back of her hand. He reached out and gently put it down. She let him.

Twice more he spoke to her, but she would not answer except to acknowledge it, and that only by turning her face slightly away from him each time. He subsided at last, sat back and watched her.

Just outside of town where the highway forks, the driver asked timidly, ‘Which way?’ and it was Hip who said, ‘Left.’ Janie came out of herself enough to give him a swift, grateful glance and sank out of sight behind her face.

At length there was a difference in her, in some inexplicable way, though she still sat numbly staring at nothing. He said quietly, ‘Better?’

She put her eyes on him and, appreciably later, her vision. A rueful smile plucked at the corners of her mouth. ‘Not worse anyway.’

‘Scared,’ he said.

She nodded. ‘Me too,’ he said, his face frozen. She put her hand on his arm. ‘Oh Hip, I’m sorry; I’m more sorry than I can say. I didn’t expect this – not so soon. And I’m afraid there isn’t anything I can do about it now.’

‘Why?’

‘I can’t tell you.’

‘You can’t tell me? Or you can’t tell me yet?’

She said, carefully, ‘I told you what you’d have to do -go back and back; find all the places you’ve been and the things that happened, right to the begi

He laughed almost joyfully. ‘There is.’ He seized her hand. ‘This morning I found the cave. That’s two years back, Janie! I know where it is, what I found there: some old clothes, children’s clothes. An address, the house with the porte-cochere. And my piece of tubing, the one thing I ever saw that proved I was right in searching for… for… Well,’ he laughed, ‘that’s the next step backward. The important thing is that I found the cave, the biggest step yet. I did it in thirty minutes or so and I did it without even trying. Now I’ll try. You say we have no more time. Well, maybe not weeks, maybe not days; do we have a day, Janie? Half a day?’

Her face began to glow. ‘Perhaps we have,’ she said. ‘Perhaps… Driver! This will do.’

It was she who paid the driver; he did not protest it. They stood at the town limits, a place of open, rolling fields barely penetrated by the cilia of the urban animal: here a fruit stand, there a gas station, and across the road, some too-new dwellings of varnished wood and obtrusive stucco. She pointed to the high meadows.

‘We’ll be found,’ she said flatly, ‘but up there we’ll be alone… and if – anything comes, we can see it coming.’

On a knoll in the foothills, in a green meadow where the regrowth barely cloaked the yellow stubble of a recent mowing, they sat facing one another, where each commanded half a horizon.

The sun grew high and hot, and the wind blew and a cloud came and went. Hip Barrows worked; back and back he worked. And Janie listened, waited, and all the while she watched, her clear deep eyes flicking from side to side over the open land.

Back and back… dirty and mad, Hip Barrows had taken nearly two years to find the house with the porte-cochere. For the address had a number and it had a street; but no town, no city.

It took three years from the insane asylum to the cave. A year to find the insane asylum from the county clerk’s office. Six months to find the county clerk from the day of his discharge. From the birth of his obsession until they threw him out of the Service, another six months.

Seven plodding years from starch and schedules, promise and laughter, to a dim guttering light in a jail cell. Seven years snatched away, seven years wingless and falling.

Back through the seven years he went until he knew what he had been before they started.

It was on the anti-aircraft range that he found an answer, a dream, and a disaster.

Still young, still brilliant as ever, but surrounded by puzzling rejection. Lieutenant Barrows found himself with too much spare time, and he hated it.

The range was small, in some respects merely a curiosity, a museum, for there was a good deal of obsolete equipment. The installation itself, for that matter, was obsolete in that it had been superseded years ago by larger and more efficient defence nets and was now part of no system. But it had a function in training gu

The Lieutenant, in one of his detested idle moments, went rummaging into some files and came up with some years-old research figures on the efficiency of proximity fuses, and some others on the minimum elevations at which these ingenious missiles, with their fist-sized radar transmitters, receivers, and timing gear, might be fired. It would seem that ack-ack officers would much rather knock out a low-flying plane than have their sensitive shells pre-detonated by an intervening treetop or power pole.