The Twilight Zone: Complete Stories (27 page)

Corry turned to stare at the captain’s face. There was no emotion in his voice now. It was flat. Flat like the desert around him. Dry like the sand. Unrevealing like the vast expanse of nothingness that surrounded them.

“Allenby,” Corry said. “I’ll tell you something. Every morning...every morning when I get up, I tell myself that this is my last day of sanity.” His voice broke for a moment and then he recovered. “I won’t be able to live another day of loneliness. Not another day! And by noon I can’t keep my fingers still and the inside of my mouth feels like gunpowder and burnt copper and deep inside my gut I got an ache that won’t go away and seems to be crawling all over the inside of my body, pricking at me, tearing little chunks out of me—and then I think I’ve got to hold out for another day, just another day.” He turned away from Allenby and stared down at the shack again. “But I can’t keep doing that day after day,” he continued, “for the next thirty years. I’ll lose my mind, Allenby. I swear to Christ...I’ll lose my mind.”

Adams, coming up the knoll and only a few yards away, heard part of what Corry said. He shook his head. The heat was burning the back of his neck and he felt stifled. “Jesus,” he exploded. “Honest to God, Corry, you’re breaking my heart!”

Corry whirled around, his face contorted. He growled like an animal and then screamed from deep inside his chest. He lunged at Adams, catching him off balance and sending him sprawling backwards down the knoll. He was on him in an instant, hitting him in the face, crunching, desperate blows that smashed against flesh and bone, until Allenby and Jensen pulled Corry off and threw him backwards.

Allenby, standing between the prostrate man and his attacker, shouted at Corry. “Easy...easy, Corry. For God’s sake!”

Very gradually Corry let his body relax, moving the route from a trembling, shaking ague to the tired, heavy motionlessness that served better in this heat.

Adams slowly got to his feet, feeling the tear on his cheek, the throbbing bruise on his jaw. “I wouldn’t worry about going off my rocker if I were you, Corry,” he said. “It’s already happened. Stir-crazy they used to call it. Well that’s what you are now, stir-crazy.”

Allenby took a step toward him to make certain he’d stay in one place. “Back off, Adams,” he ordered. “You and Jensen go back and get the supplies. Bring them over to the shack.”

Adams bridled. “Mr. Corry has a broken leg or something?” He pointed to Corry.

Allenby said, “Adams, do as I tell you.” He paused, looking briefly at Corry, then back toward Adams. “And the big crate,” he continued, “with the red tag—handle that one gently.”

Jensen looked over toward the car and grinned. “How about the use of his buggy there? Some of the stuff’s heavy.”

Corry answered as if shaken out of his dream. “It isn’t running today,” he said.

Once again Adams laughed. “It isn’t running today! What’s the matter, Corry—use it too much, do you?” He turned to Jensen. “You know there’s so many places a guy can go out here. There’s the country club over the mountains there, and the seashore over that way, and a drive-in theatre—that’s some place around here, isn’t it, Corry?”

Corry stood motionless, his head down.

Allenby faced the young navigator. The gentleness of his tone did not disguise the sense of absolute command that permeated the voice. “I’m going to tell you one more time, Adams. Go get the stuff or you’ll wind up the rest of the trip with your hands tied behind your back, and I’ll have every right to handle it that way!”

Adams opened his mouth to retort, then shut it tight. He cast a vindictive look at Corry, then turned and started back across the desert, Jensen following him. Allenby took Corry’s arm and the two men walked down the knoll toward the shack, up the steps of the burning hot metal porch, and inside.

Corry sat down on his cot, staring at his folded hands. Allenby went to the refrigerator and took out a jug of water.

“Glasses?” he asked.

Corry motioned toward the shelf. “Paper cups up there.”

Allenby unscrewed the jar, sniffed it, made a face. He poured some water into a cup, took it in a quick gulp.

“We’ve got some fresh on board,” he said to Corry. “They’ll be bringing it over.”

Corry nodded numbly, not looking at him. Allenby took a deep breath, then pulled up a chair directly opposite Corry. He studied the man on the cot as if formulating an approach.

“I brought you some magazines, too,” he said, “strictly on my own.”

Corry nodded. “Thanks.”

“And some microfilm. Old vintage movies. Science fiction stuff You’ll get a kick out of it.”

Again Corry nodded. “I’m sure I will.”

Allenby ran his tongue over his lips, stared at Corry for a long, silent moment, then rose and crossed over to the window.

“I brought you something else, Corry,” Allenby said, over his shoulder. “It would be my job if they suspected.” He paused. “It would be my neck if they found out for sure.”

“Look, Allenby,” Corry said grimly, “I don’t want gifts now. I don’t want tidbits. It makes me feel like an animal in a cage and there’s a nice old lady out there who wants to throw peanuts at me.” He was suddenly on his feet, his voice high again and shrill. “A pardon, Allenby,” he shouted. “That’s the only gift I want.” The words tumbled out, propelled by his grief, by his urgency, by a sudden hopelessness that descended on him. ‘‘I killed an animal, Allenby. As God is my witness, I killed an animal and he had no business living anyway. All right, punish me...stick me in jail...but, Allenby...” his voice quivered and his eyes glistened, “Allenby...not this. Jesus God, Allenby...not this!”

Allenby nodded and said, “I know, Corry. I know all about it.” He retraced his steps to the chair and sat down. “I doubt if it’ll be any consolation to you, Corry, but it’s not easy handling this kind of an assignment. Stopping here four times a year and having to look at a man’s agony!”

Allenby spoke truth and only truth, and Corry realized it. There was compassion in Allenby and honesty, but Corry was unable to keep back the harshness.

“You’re quite right, Allenby!” He spit it out. “That’s precious little consolation.”

Allenby rose. He walked directly over to Corry. “I can’t bring you freedom, Corry. This is the one thing I can’t bring. All I can do...all I can do is try to bring you things to help keep your sanity. Something...anything so you can fight loneliness.”

They heard Adams and Jensen who were lugging a small metal cart down from the knoll toward the shack. Allenby could see the box of supplies on the cart and a rectangular crate that measured seven feet and had a red tag fluttering from one end.

“Captain,” Jensen called out, “you want this big crate opened up?”

Allenby hurriedly answered him. “Not yet. Stay out there. I’ll be right out.”

Corry, looking out the window, motioned to Allenby and said, “I’ll bite, Captain. What’s the present?” He looked through the window. “What is it?”

Allenby turned very slowly toward Corry. “It’s...it’s something I brought you, Corry.”

Corry laughed shortly.
 
“If it’s a twenty-year supply of puzzles—lots of luck—I’ll have to decline with thanks. I don’t need any puzzles, Allenby. If I want to try to probe any mysteries—I can look in the mirror and try to figure out my own.”

Allenby went to the door and put his hand on the knob. “We’ve got to go now. We’ll be back in three months.” There was a silence. “You listening to me, Corry?” he continued. “This is important.’’

Corry looked up at him.

“When you open the crate,” Allenby said, “there’s nothing you need do. The...the item has been vacuum packed. It needs no activator of any kind. The air will do that. There’ll be a booklet inside too that can answer any of your questions.”

“You’re mysterious as hell,” Corry said.

“I don’t mean to be,” Allenby answered. “It’s just like I told you, though—I’m risking a lot to have brought this here.” He pointed toward the window. “They don’t know what it is I brought. I’d appreciate your waiting till we get out of sight before you open it.”

Corry was barely listening. “All right,” he said flatly “Have a good trip back. Give my regards to...” he wet his lips and looked down at the floor “...to Broadway and every place else while you’re at it.”

Allenby nodded and studied the other man. “Sure, Corry,” he said quietly. “I’ll see you.”

He opened the door and went out. Through the window Corry could see him motion to the others as they followed him across the desert back toward the ship. Corry, watching the retreating back of the captain, suddenly called out:

“Allenby!”

The three men stopped and turned toward him.
 
“Allenby,” Corry yelled “I don’t much care what it is. But for the thought, Allenby. For the...decency of it...I thank you.”

Allenby nodded, his mouth taut, feeling a sickness in his stomach. “You’re quite welcome, Corry,” he said softly “You’re quite welcome.”

Corry watched them for a long, long time until they disappeared over the line of dunes. Then aimlessly, without direction, without much thought, he went outside.

The crates were piled end on end beside the long rectangular box with the red tag. Corry studied it, throwing questions at himself in his mind as to what it might be. It was a mystery, but an insignificant mystery What the hell difference did it make what it was. Games, cards, puzzles, books, microfilm—whatever! The newness of it would be corroded under the sun and it would change into what everything else changed into on the asteroid. A blob of weary familiarity without excitement and without challenge. He kicked at the box with his foot, then slowly turned and studied the horizon in the direction where Allenby had disappeared.

Alongside the ship, Jensen was clambering up the metal ladder to the open hatch. He disappeared inside and Allenby motioned Adams to follow. Adams went halfway up the ladder, then looked down toward Allenby, who was staring off into the distance.

“Captain,” Adams said. “Just man to man, huh?”

Allenby, as if shaken from a trance, stared up at him. “What?” he asked.

“What did you bring him?” Adams asked. “What was in the box?”

Allenby smiled and then said softly, more to himself than to Adams, “I’m not sure, really. Maybe it’s just an illusion. Or maybe it’s salvation!”

He waved Adams up the ladder and followed him toward the open hatch. Ten and a half minutes had gone by and they’d blast off in exactly fifty-three seconds.

Moments later, as the ship raced through the sky on the long trip home, Allenby felt a pang of guilt They were going back to Earth. The green earth. An earth full of sounds and smells. An earth that was home. He could not bring himself to look back through the rear scanner at the tiny yellow blob that floated through space carrying a man in anguish who sat in a metal shack contemplating nothing but more anguish.

Corry had opened the crate, removed what was inside and was reading a booklet.

“You are now the proud possessor,” the first paragraph began, “of a robot built in the form of woman. To all intents and purposes this creature is a woman. Physiologically and psychologically she is a human being with a set of emotions, a memory track, the ability to reason, to think, and to speak. She is beyond illness and under normal circumstances should have a life span similar to that of a comparable human being. Her name is Alicia.”

Very slowly Corry let the booklet slip out of his fingers. He looked across the yards of sand over to the crate and to the creature who stood alongside it.

She looked human. She had long brown hair, deep-set brown eyes, a straight, tiny nose, a firm jaw. She was dressed in a simple, loose-flowing garment that neither added to nor detracted from her femininity.

But it was her face Corry stared at. There was no expression in the eyes. There was a deadness, a lack of vitality, an almost comatose immobility of the features, the mouth, the eyes, the face muscles. It was a mask—a beautiful mask. The face of a woman...but nonetheless just a mask, a covering.