Second Variety and Other Stories (44 page)

Steve sat up. "For God's sake --" He rubbed his eyes and snapped on the lamp. "What the hell
--"

Lori lay on her side, gasping and moaning, her eyes staring, knotted fists pressed into her
stomach. The pain twisted and seared, devouring her, eating into her. "Lori!" Steven grated. "What is it?"

She screamed. Again and again. Until the house rocked with echoes. She slid from the bed, onto
the floor, her body writhing and jerking, her face unrecognizable.

Ed came hurrying into the room, pulling his bathrobe around him. "What's going on?"

The two men stared helplessly down at the woman on the floor.

"Good God," Ed said. He closed his eyes.

The day was cold and dark. Snow fell silently over the streets and houses, over the red brick
county hospital building. Doctor Blair walked slowly up the gravel path to his Ford car. He slid inside and
turned the ignition key. The motor leaped alive, and he let the brake out.

"I'll call you later," Doctor Blair said. "There are certain particulars."

"I know," Steve muttered. He was still dazed. His face was gray and puffy from lack of sleep.

"I left some sedatives for you. Try to get a little rest."

"You think," Steve asked suddenly, "if we had called you earlier --"

"No." Blair glanced up at him sympathetically. "I don't. In a thing like that, there's not much
chance. Not after it's burst."

"Then it was appendicitis?"

Blair nodded. "Yes."

"If we hadn't been so damn far out," Steve said bitterly. "Stuck out in the country. No hospital.
Nothing. Miles from town. And we didn't realize at first --"

"Well, it's over now." The upright Ford moved forward a little. All at once a thought came to the
doctor. "One more thing."

"What is it?" Steve said dully.

Blair hesitated. "Post mortems -- very unfortunate. I don't think there's any reason for one in this
case. I'm certain in my own mind... But I wanted to ask --"

"What is it?"

"What is it?"

"No." Steve shook his head wearily. "I don't know."

"It was just a thought." Doctor Blair drove slowly off down the narrow tree-lined street, leaving
two dark streaks, two soiled lines that marred the packed, glistening snow.

Spring came, warm and sunny. The ground turned black and rich. Overhead the sun shone, a hot
white orb, full of strength.

"Stop here," Steve murmured.

Ed Patterson brought the car to a halt at the side of the street. He turned off the motor. The two
men sat in silence, neither of them speaking.

At the end of the street children were playing. A high school boy was mowing a lawn, pushing the
machine over wet grass. The street was dark in the shade of the great trees growing along each side.

"Nice," Ed said.

Steve nodded without answering. Moodily, he watched a young girl walking by, a shopping bag
under her arm. The girl climbed the stairs of a porch and disappeared into an old-fashioned yellow house.

Steve pushed the car door open. "Come on. Let's get it over with."

Ed lifted the wreath of flowers from the back seat and put them in his son's lap. "You'll have to
carry it. It's your job."

"All right." Steve grabbed the flowers and stepped out onto the pavement.

The two men walked up the street together, silent and thoughtful.

"It's been seven or eight months, now," Steve said abruptly.

"At least." Ed lit a cigar as they walked along, puffing clouds of gray smoke around them.
"Maybe a little more."

"I never should have brought her up here. She lived in town all her life. She didn't know anything
about the country."

"It would have happened anyhow."

"If we had been closer to a hospital --"

The doctor said it wouldn't have made any difference. Even if we'd called him right away instead
of waiting until morning." They came to the corner and turned. "And as you know --"

"Forget it," Steve said, suddenly tense.

The sounds of the children had fallen behind them. The houses had thinned out. Their footsteps
rang out against the pavement as they walked along.

"We're almost there," Steve said.

They came to a rise. Beyond the rise was a heavy brass fence, running the length of a small field.
A green field, neat and even. With carefully placed plaques of white marble crisscrossing it.

"Here we are," Steve said tightly.

"They keep it nice."

"Can we get in from this side?"

"We can try." Ed started along the brass fence, looking for a gate.

Suddenly Steve halted, grunting. He stared across the field, his face white. "Look."

"What is it?" Ed took off his glasses to see. "What are you looking at?"

"I was right." Steve's voice was low and indistinct. "I thought there was something. Last time we
were here... I saw... You see it?"

"I'm not sure. I see the tree, if that's what you mean."

In the center of the neat green field the little apple tree rose proudly. Its bright leaves sparkled in
the warm sunlight. The young tree was strong and very healthy. It swayed confidently with the wind, its
supple trunk moist with sweet spring sap.

"They're red," Steve said softly. "They're already red. How the hell can they be red? It's only

April. How the hell can they be red so soon?"

April. How the hell can they be red so soon?"

"Her cheeks were that color," Steve said, his voice low. "When she had been running.
Remember?"

The two men gazed uneasily at the little apple tree, its shiny red fruit glistening in the spring
sunlight, branches moving gently with the wind.

"I remember, all right," Ed said grimly. "Come on." He took his son's arm insistently, the wreath
of flowers forgotten. "Come on, Steve. Let's get out of here."

Jill Herrick's blue eyes filled with tears. She gazed at her husband in unspeakable horror. "You're
-- you're hideous!" she wailed.

Lester Herrick continued working, arranging heaps of notes and graphs in precise piles.

"Hideous," he stated, "is a value judgment. It contains no factual information." He sent a report
tape on Centauran parasitic life whizzing through the desk scanner. "Merely an opinion. An expression of
emotion, nothing more."

Jill stumbled back to the kitchen. Listlessly, she waved her hand to trip the stove into activity.
Conveyor belts in the wall hummed to life, hurrying the food from the underground storage lockers for the
evening meal.

She turned to face her husband one last time. "Not even a little while?" she begged. "Not even
--"

"Not even for a month. When he comes you can tell him. If you haven't the courage, I'll do it. I
can't have a child running around here. I have too much work to do. This report on Betelgeuse XI is due
in ten days." Lester dropped a spool on Fomalhautan fossil implements into the scanner. "What's the
matter with your brother? Why can't he take care of his own child?"

Jill dabbed at swollen eyes. "Don't you understand? I want Gus here! I begged Frank to let him
come. And now you --"

"I'll be glad when he's old enough to be turned over to the Government." Lester's thin face
twisted in annoyance. "Damn it, Jill, isn't dinner ready yet? It's been ten minutes! What's wrong with that
stove?"

"It's almost ready." The stove showed a red signal light. The robant waiter had come out of the
wall and was waiting expectantly to take the food.

Jill sat down and blew her small nose violently. In the living-room, Lester worked on
unperturbed. His work. His research. Day after day. Lester was getting ahead; there was no doubt of
that. His lean body was bent like a coiled spring over the tape scanner, cold gray eyes taking in the
information feverishly, analyzing, appraising, his conceptual faculties operating like well-greased
machinery.

Jill's lips trembled in misery and resentment. Gus -- little Gus. How could she tell him? Fresh
tears welled up in her eyes. Never to see the chubby little fellow again. He could never come back -because
his childish laughter and play bothered Lester. Interfered with his research.

The stove clicked to green. The food slid out, into the arms of the robant. Soft chimes sounded
to announce dinner.

"I hear it," Lester grated. He snapped off the scanner and got to his feet. "I suppose he'll come
while we're eating."

"I can vid Frank and ask --"

"No. Might as well get it over with." Lester nodded impatiently to the robant. "All right. Put it
down." His thin lips set in an angry line. "Damn it, don't dawdle! I want to get back to my work!"

"No. Might as well get it over with." Lester nodded impatiently to the robant. "All right. Put it
down." His thin lips set in an angry line. "Damn it, don't dawdle! I want to get back to my work!"

Little Gus came trailing into the house as they were finishing dinner.

Jill gave a cry of joy. "Gussie!" She ran to sweep him up in her arms. "I'm so glad to see you!"

"Watch out for my tiger," Gus muttered. He dropped his little gray kitten onto the rug and it
rushed off, under the couch. "He's hiding."

Lester's eyes flickered as he studied the little boy and the tip of gray tail extending from under the
couch.

"Why do you call it a tiger? It's nothing but an alley cat."

Gus looked hurt. He scowled. "He's a tiger. He's got stripes."

"Tigers are yellow and a great deal bigger. You might as well learn to classify things by their
correct names."

"Lester, please --" Jill pleaded.

"Be quiet," her husband said crossly. "Gus is old enough to shed childish illusions and develop a
realistic orientation. What's wrong with the psych testers? Don't they straighten this sort of nonsense
out?"

Gus ran and snatched up his tiger. "You leave him alone!"

Lester contemplated the kitten. A strange, cold smile played about his lips. "Come down to the
lab some time, Gus. We'll show you lots of cats. We use them in our research. Cats, guinea pigs, rabbits
--"

"Lester!" Jill gasped. "How can you!"

Lester laughed thinly. Abruptly he broke off and returned to his desk. "Now clear out of here. I
have to finish these reports. And don't forget to tell Gus."

Gus got excited. "Tell me what?" His cheeks flushed. His eyes sparkled. "What is it? Something
for me? A secret?"

Jill's heart was like lead. She put her hand heavily on the child's shoulder. "Come on, Gus. We'll
go sit out in the garden and I'll tell you. Bring -- bring your tiger."

A click. The emergency vidsender lit up. Instantly Lester was on his feet. "Be quiet!" He ran to
the sender, breathing rapidly. "Nobody speak!"

Jill and Gus paused at the door. A confidential message was sliding from the slot into the dish.
Lester grabbed it up and broke the seal. He studied it intently.

"What is it?" Jill asked. "Anything bad?"

"Bad?" Lester's face shone with a deep inner glow. "No, not bad at all." He glanced at his watch.
"Just time. Let's see, I'll need --"

"What is it?"

"I'm going on a trip. I'll be gone two or three weeks. Rexor IV is into the charted area."

"Rexor IV? You're going there?" Jill clasped her hands eagerly. "Oh, I've always wanted to see
an old system, old ruins and cities! Lester, can I come along? Can I go with you? We never took a
vacation, and you always promised --"

Lester Herrick stared at his wife in amazement. "You?" he said. "You go along?" He laughed
unpleasantly. "Now hurry and get my things together. I've been waiting for this a long time." He rubbed
his hands together in satisfaction. "You can keep the boy here until I'm back. But no longer. Rexor IV! I
can hardly wait!"

"You have to make allowances," Frank said. "After all, he's a scientist."

"I don't care," Jill said. "I'm leaving him. As soon as he gets back from Rexor IV. I've made up
my mind."

Her brother was silent, deep in thought. He stretched his feet out, onto the lawn of the little
garden. "Well, if you leave him you'll be free to marry again. You're still classed as sexually adequate,
aren't you?"

aren't you?"

"You think a lot of children," Frank perceived. "Gus loves to visit you. But he doesn't like Lester.
Les needles him."

"I know. This past week has been heaven, with him gone." Jill patted her soft blonde hair,
blushing prettily. "I've had fun. Makes me feel alive again."

"When'll he be back?"

"Any day." Jill clenched her small fists. "We've been married five years and every year it's worse.
He's so -- so inhuman. Utterly cold and ruthless. Him and his work. Day and night."

"Les is ambitious. He wants to get to the top in his field." Frank lit a cigarette lazily. "A pusher.
Well, maybe he'll do it. What's he in?"

"Toxicology. He works out new poisons for Military. He invented the copper sulphate skin-lime
they used against Callisto."

"It's a small field. Now take me." Frank leaned contentedly against the wall of the house. "There
are thousands of Clearance lawyers. I could work for years and never create a ripple. I'm content just to
be. I do my job. I enjoy it."

"I wish Lester felt that way."

"Maybe he'll change."

"He'll never change," Jill said bitterly. "I know that, now. That's why I've made up my mind to
leave him. He'll always be the same."

Lester Herrick came back from Rexor IV a different man. Beaming happily, he deposited his
anti-grav suitcase in the arms of the waiting robant. "Thank you."

Jill gasped speechlessly. "Les! What --"

Lester removed his hat, bowing a little. "Good day, my dear. You're looking lovely. Your eyes
are clear and blue. Sparkling like some virgin lake, fed by mountain streams." He sniffed. "Do I smell a
delicious repast warming on the hearth?"