Short Fiction by Fritz Leiber (top romance novels .TXT) 📕

“I never said so. I just said, ‘Forget it.’ ” He hesitated a moment, studying me. Then he said, “I wasn’t the one gave that scream. In fact, I’d have stopped it if I’d been able.”

“Who did then?”

Again he studied me as he hesitated. “I’m not telling,” he said, settling back.

“Pop!” I said, sharp again. “Buggers who pad together tell everything.”

“Oh yeah,” he agreed, smiling. “I remember saying that to quite a few guys in my day. It’s a very restful comradely sentiment. I killed every last one of ’em, too.”

“You may have, Pop,” I granted, “but we’re two to one.”

“So you are,” he agreed softly, looking the both of us over. I knew what he was thinking⁠—that Alice still had just her pliers on and that in these close quarters his knives were as good as my gun.

“Give me your right hand, Alice,” I said. Without taking my eyes off Pop I reached the knife without a handle out of her belt and then I started to unscrew the pliers out of her stump.

“Pop,” I said as I did so, “you may have quit killing for all I know. I mean you may have quit killing clean decent Deathland style. But I don’t believe one bit of that guff about having to talk to murderers to keep your mind sweet. Furthermore⁠—”

“It’s true though,” he interrupted. “I got to keep myself reminded of how lousy it feels to be a murderer.”

“So?” I said. “Well, here’s one person who believes you’ve got a more practical reason for being on this plane. Pop, what’s the bounty Atla-Hi gives you for every Deathlander you bring in? What would it be for two live Deathlanders? And what sort of reward would they pay for a lost plane brought in? Seems to me they might very well make you a citizen for that.”

“Yes, even give you your own church,” Alice added with a sort of wicked gaiety. I squeezed her stump gently to tell her let me handle it.

“Why, I guess you can believe that if you want to,” Pop said and let out a soft breath. “Seems to me you need a lot of coincidences and happenstances to make that theory hold water, but you sure can believe it if you want to. I got no way, Ray, to prove to you I’m telling the truth except to say I am.”

“Right,” I said and then I threw the next one at him real fast. “What’s more, Pop, weren’t you traveling in this plane to begin with? That cuts a happenstance. Didn’t you hop out while we were too busy with the Pilot to notice and just pretend to be coming from the cracking plant? Weren’t the buttons locked because you were the Pilot’s prisoner?”

Pop creased his brow thoughtfully. “It could have been that way,” he said at last. “Could have been⁠—according to the evidence as you saw it. It’s quite a bright idea, Ray. I can almost see myself skulking in this cabin, while you and Alice⁠—”

“You were skulking somewhere,” I said. I finished screwing in the knife and gave Alice back her hand. “I’ll repeat it, Pop,” I said. “We’re two to one. You’d better talk.”

“Yes,” Alice added, disregarding my previous hint. “You may have given up fighting, Pop, but I haven’t. Not fighting, nor killing, nor anything in between those two. Any least thing.” My girl was being her most pantherish.

“Now who says I’ve given up fighting?” Pop demanded, rearing a little again. “You people assume too much, it’s a dangerous habit. Before we have any trouble and somebody squawks about me cheating, let’s get one thing straight. If anybody jumps me I’ll try to disable them, I’ll try to hurt them in any way short of killing, and that means hamstringing and rabbit-punching and everything else. Every least thing, Alice. And if they happen to die while I’m honestly just trying to hurt them in a way short of killing, then I won’t grieve too much. My conscience will be reasonably clear. Is that understood?”

I had to admit that it was. Pop might be lying about a lot of things, but I just didn’t believe he was lying about this. And I already knew Pop was quick for his age and strong enough. If Alice and me jumped him now there’d be blood let six different ways. You can’t jump a man who has a dozen knives easy to hand and not expect that to happen, two to one or not. We’d get him in the end but it would be gory.

“And now,” Pop said quietly, “I will talk a little if you don’t mind. Look here, Ray⁠ ⁠… Alice⁠ ⁠… the two of you are confirmed murderers, I know you wouldn’t tell me nothing different, and being such you both know that there’s nothing in murder in the long run. It satisfies a hunger and maybe gets you a little loot and it lets you get on to the next killing. But that’s all, absolutely all. Yet you got to do it because it’s the way you’re built. The urge is there, it’s an overpowering urge, and you got nothing to oppose it with. You feel the Big Grief and the Big Resentment, the dust is eating at your bones, you can’t stand the city squares⁠—the Porterites and Mantenors and such⁠—because you know they’re whistling in the dark and it’s a dirty tune, so you go on killing. But if there were a decent practical way to quit, you’d take it. At least I think you would. When you still thought this plane could take you to Rio or Europe you felt that way, didn’t you? You weren’t planning to go there as murderers, were you? You were going to leave your trade behind.”

It was pretty quiet in the cabin for a couple of seconds. Then Alice’s thin laugh sliced the silence. “We were dreaming then,” she said. “We were out of our heads. But now you’re talking about practical things, as you