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Authors: Richard Matheson

BOOK: Duel
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We are of the opinion that you have been the unfortunate butt of some practical joke.
However, we are in communication with one of our territorial representatives in Fort and he is investigating the matter.
If we can be of further service, please feel free to call on us.
 
Sincerely yours
J. Linton Freedhoffer
For the Editor
 
Mr. Todd Baker
1729 “J” Street
Fort, Indiana
 
Professor Reed:
 
Dropped in to see you but you weren't in your office.
Any news?
I'm getting awfully worried. If you find that those samples are as legitimate as I think they are, I'm sunk. I get the shudders every time I think about what fantastic powers this Loolie must have. How she got that ad in the SRL I'll never figure out.
I certainly hope it
is
a practical joke.
If it isn't … .
Will you let me know as soon as you reach any definite decision?
 
Todd Baker
Toddy Lad:;.?!
 
Prof. Reed called up. Said he found out that the samples (whatever they are) are strictly legit. Really come from some place other than Earth. Who's he kidding? Oops, sorry Charles.
Anyway, the old boy says for you to come over to his house tonight for a big pow-wow. Playing teacher's pet? For shame.
Off to supper.
 
Adoringly
Your room mate
The Eternal Sophomore
Willy
 
P.S. Letter came for you.
 
July 11, 1951
 
Oh Dear Toddbaker:
 
Think! How fortunate it is. I have got a special ship. I can come now right away tomorrow. Oh happiness. “Pack your duds, dear.” I am coming to bring you back with me. I am so joyfull. Please hurry.
 
With everything
LOOLIE
 
LOOLIE!
 
No! You can't do this! I'm an Earth-man. Let me stay one! Keep away. I'm not going
anywhere
with you. I'm warning you!
Please?
Stay away!
 
T. Baker
 
P.S. I got a shotgun! Look out!
 
(From the
Fort Daily Tribune
, July 13, 1951)
FLOATING GLOBE SIGHTED
OVER COLLEGE CAMPUS
More than thirty students and citizens of Fort claimed to have sighted a floating globe last night.
According to the reports, the globe hovered over the college campus for at least ten minutes. It then headed for the outskirts of the city where it disappeared.
Dear Tell Book:
 
Well, I'm back. I can't understand it. I've been taken in, I have. It seems so odd.
I went to such trouble to put the insert in that Earth publication. And then this Toddbaker went to all the trouble of writing back. And I thought—here now!—I have a mate at last. He seemed so interested and so nice.
But heavens. When I told him that we were to be co-joined he protested as though this were something terrible. What sense in that? I thought he was just being shy as are all the depleted males up here.
So, on the third phase, I got into the ship (which I had gone to oh! such trouble to get). I was down there in about seven eks.
I stayed there a little less than a half ek, suspended over a green place with tall structures. There with the use of the proto-finder I located the waves of Toddbaker and headed for this “J” street.
I landed behind his personal structure.
I got out and went over to this place. I sensed his presence with my portable proto. The waves were coming freely through a square hole high up on the wall.
I turned on my air belt and floated up there. There I went into this hole. It was a terrible squeeze.
There he was.
Such a shock!
He was holding something long and shiny in his hands and he pointed it at me. But then he dropped it on the floor and said something.
I do not see how these Earth men understand each other. It was so weird a gurgle and it stuck in him. He stared at me and the voice cavity got large. Then it spread wide across and showed his teeth.
Then the seeing organs in his top part rolled back and disappeared. I suppose it was my air cloud that made it happen. He put out his arms at me and took one step. But then he fell down on the floor with a squeaking noise. He said—
mama
.
I went over and examined him.
My my.
He was not of like fixtures at all. It could not possibly be managed. He was so fragile and pale. It is doubtful that the whole race of them can last. Not with such a form. So little!
So I left him there, poor thing.
And I had been so happy before. Now I'm still lonesome. I want a mate.
And now what? Nothing I guess. Well, maybe one.
 
July 20, 1951
 
Dear Mrs. Baker:
I think you'd better come and take Todd home. He's in a sad way.
He's cutting all his classes and he doesn't eat. All he does is sit around the room and stare at things. He hasn't slept more than a few hours all week and when he does fall asleep he keeps talking to himself, calling for “Louie”. We don't know any Louie.
I found the enclosed in the basket this afternoon. I don't get it.
But you better get Todd.
 
In haste,
Willy Haskell
 
(Enclosure)
 
Dear Sir:
 
We regret to inform you that your personal advertisement is not acceptable for our classified section.
We return it herewith.
 
(Enclosure)
 
LOOLIE: I'm sorry. I didn't know you were so big and beautiful. Won't you please come back? I'll be waiting. Love, Todd.
LONESOME VENUS GAL, pretty—yes nice in socializing, tender and gay altogether. Be pleased to write Mars man of like fixtures. Note: am friends with Mary Martian. LOOLIE, GREENER ABODE, VENUS
MASON SAW IT FIRST.
He was sitting in front of the lateral viewer taking notes as the ship cruised over the new planet. His pen moved quickly over the graphspaced chart he held before him. In a little while they'd land and take specimens. Mineral, vegetable, animal—if there were any. Put them in the storage lockers and take them back to Earth. There the technicians would evaluate, appraise, judge. And, if everything was acceptable, stamp the big, black INHABITABLE on their brief and open another planet for colonization from overcrowded Earth.
Mason was jotting down items about general topography when the glitter caught his eye.
“I saw something,” he said.
He flicked the viewer to reverse lensing position.
“Saw what?” Ross asked from the control board.
“Didn't you see a flash?”
Ross looked into his own screen.
“We went over a lake, you know,” he said.
“No, it wasn't that,” Mason said, “this was in that clearing beside the lake.”
“I'll look,” said Ross, “but it probably was the lake.”
His fingers typed out a command on the board and the big ship wheeled around in a smooth arc and headed back.
“Keep your eyes open now,” Ross said. “Make sure. We haven't got any time to waste.”
“Yes, sir.”
Mason kept his unblinking gaze on the viewer, watching the earth below move past like a slowly rolled tapestry of woods and fields and rivers. He was thinking, in spite of himself, that maybe the moment had arrived at last. The moment in which Earthmen would come upon life beyond Earth, a race evolved from other cells and other muds. It was an exciting thought. 1997 might be the year. And he and Ross and Carter might now be riding a new
Santa Maria
of discovery, a silvery, bulleted galleon of space.
“There!” he said. “There it is!”
He looked over at Ross. The captain was gazing into his viewer plate. His face bore the expression Mason knew well. A look or smug analysis, of impending decision.
“What do you think it is?” Mason asked, playing the strings of vanity in his captain.
“Might be a ship, might not be,” pronounced Ross.
Well, for God's sake, let's go down and see, Mason wanted to say, but knew he couldn't. It would have to be Ross's decision. Otherwise they might not even stop.
“I guess it's nothing,” he prodded.
He watched Ross impatiently, watched the stubby fingers flick buttons for the viewer. “We might stop,” Ross said. “We have to take samples anyway. Only thing I'm afraid of is …”
He shook his head. Land, man! The words bubbled up in Mason's throat. For God's sake, let's go down!
Ross evaluated. His thickish lips pressed together appraisingly. Mason held his breath.
Then Ross' head bobbed once in that curt movement which indicated consummated decision. Mason breathed again. He watched the captain spin, push and twist dials. Felt the ship begin its tilt to upright position. Felt the cabin shuddering slightly as the gyroscope kept it on an even keel. The sky did a ninety-degree turn, clouds appeared through the thick ports. Then the ship was pointed at the planet's sun and Ross switched off the cruising engines. The ship hesitated, suspended a split second, then began dropping toward the earth.
“Hey, we settin' down already?”
Mickey Carter looked at them questioningly from the port door that led to the storage lockers. He was rubbing greasy hands over his green jumper legs.
“We saw something down there,” Mason said.
“No kiddin',” Mickey said, coming over to Mason's viewer. “Let's see.”
Mason flicked on the rear lens. The two of them watched the planet billowing up at them.
“I don't know whether you can … oh, yes, there it is,” Mason said. He looked over at Ross.
“Two degrees east,” he said.
Ross twisted a dial and the ship then changed its downward movement slightly.
“What do you think it is?” Mickey asked.
“Hey!”
Mickey looked into the viewer with even greater interest. His wide eyes examined the shiny speck enlarging on the screen.
“Could be a ship,” he said. “Could be.”
Then he stood there silently, behind Mason, watching the earth rushing up.
“Reactors,” said Mason.
Ross jabbed efficiently at the button and the ship's engines spouted out their flaming gasses. Speed decreased. The rocket eased down on its roaring fire jets. Ross guided.
“What do
you
think it is?” Mickey asked Mason.
“I don't know,” Mason answered. “But if it's a ship,” he added, half wishfully thinking, “I don't see how it could possibly be from Earth. We've got this run all to ourselves.”
“Maybe they got off course,” Mickey dampened without knowing.
Mason shrugged. “I doubt it,” he said.
“What if it is a ship?” Mickey said. “And it's not ours?”
Mason looked at him and Carter licked his lips.
“Man,” he said, “that'd be somethin'.”
“Air spring,” Ross ordered.
Mason threw the switch that set the air spring into operation. The unit which made possible a landing without them having to stretch out on thick-cushioned couches. They could stand on deck and hardly feel the impact. It was an innovation on the newer government ships.
The ship hit on its rear braces.
There was a sensation of jarring, a sense of slight bouncing. Then the ship was still, its pointed nose straight up, glittering brilliantly in the bright sunlight.
“I want us to stay together,” Ross was saying. “No one takes any risks. That's an order.”
He got up from his seat and pointed at the wall switch that let atmosphere into the small chamber in the corner of the cabin.
“Three to one we need our helmets,” Mickey said to Mason.
“You're on,” Mason said, setting into play their standing bet about the air or lack of it on every new planet they found. Mickey always bet on the need for apparatus, Mason for unaided lung use. So far, they'd come out about even.
Mason threw the switch, and there was a muffled sound of hissing in the chamber. Mickey got the helmet from his locker and dropped it over his head. Then he went through the double doors. Mason listened to him clamping the doors behind him. He kept wanting to switch on the side viewers and see if he could locate what they'd spotted. But he didn't. He let himself enjoy the delicate nibbling of suspense.
Through the intercom they heard Mickey's voice.
“Removing helmet,” he said.
Silence. They waited. Finally, a sound of disgust.
“I lose again,” Mickey said.
 
“God, did they hit!”
Mickey's face had an expression of dismayed shock on it. The three of them stood there on the greenish-blue grass and looked.
It
was
a ship. Or what was left of a ship for, apparently, it had struck the earth at terrible velocity, nose first. The main structure had driven itself about fifteen feet into the hard ground. Jagged pieces of superstructure had been ripped off by the crash and were lying strewn over the field. The heavy engines had been torn loose and nearly crushed the cabin. Everything was deathly silent, and the wreckage was so complete they could hardly make out what type of ship it was. It was as if some enormous child had lost fancy with the toy model and had dashed it to earth, stamped on it, banged on it insanely with a rock.
Mason shuddered. It had been a long time since he'd seen a rocket crash. He'd almost forgotten the everpresent menace of lost control, of whistling fall through space, of violent impact. Most talk had been about being lost in an orbit. This reminded him of the other threat in his calling. His throat moved unconsciously as he watched.
Ross was scuffing at a chunk of metal at his feet.
“Can't tell much,” he said. “But I'd say it's our own.”
Mason was about to speak, then changed his mind.
“From what I can see of that engine up there, I'd say it was ours,” Mickey said.
“Rocket structure might be standard,” Mason heard himself say, “everywhere.”
“Not a chance,” Ross said. “Things don't work out like that. It's ours all right. Some poor devils from Earth. Well, at least their death was quick.”
“Was it?” Mason asked the air, visualizing the crew in their cabin, rooted with fear as their ship spun toward earth, maybe straight down like a fired cannon shell, maybe end-over-end like a crazy, fluttering top, the gyroscope trying in vain to keep the cabin always level.
The screaming, the shouted commands, the exhortations to a heaven they had never seen before, to a God who might be in another universe. And then the planet rushing up and blasting its hard face against their ship, crushing them, ripping the breath from their lungs. He shuddered again, thinking of it.
“Let's take a look,” Mickey said.
“Not sure we'd better,” Ross said. “We say it's ours. It might not be.”
“Jeez, you don't think anything is still alive in there, do you?” Mickey asked the captain.
“Can't say,” Ross said.
But they all knew he could see that mangled hulk before him as well as they. Nothing could have survived that.
The look. The pursed lips. As they circled the ship. The head move ment, unseen by them.
“Let's try that opening there,” Ross ordered. “And stay together We still have work to do. Only doing this so we can let the base know which ship this is.” He had already decided it was an Earth ship.
They walked up to a spot in the ship's side where the skin had been laid open along the welded seam. A long, thick plate was bent over as easily as a man might bend paper.
“Don't like this,” Ross said. “But I suppose …”
He gestured with his head and Mickey pulled himself up to the opening. He tested each handhold gingerly, then slid on his work gloves as he found some sharp edge. He told the other two and they reached into their jumper pockets. Then Mickey took a long step into the dark maw of the ship.
“Hold
on
, now!” Ross called up. “Wait until I get there.”
He pulled himself up, his heavy boot toes scraping up the rocket skin. He went into the hole too. Mason followed.
It was dark inside the ship. Mason closed his eyes for a moment to adjust to the change. When he opened them, he saw two bright beams searching up through the twisted tangle of beams and plates. He pulled out his own flash and flicked it on.
“God, is this thing wrecked,” Mickey said, awed by the sight of metal and machinery in violent death. His voice echoed slightly through the shell. Then, when the sound ended, an utter stillness descended on them. They stood in the murky light and Mason could smell the acrid fumes of broken engines.
“Watch the smell, now,” Ross said to Mickey who was reaching up for support. “We don't want to get ourselves gassed.”
“I will,” Mickey said. He was climbing up, using one hand to pull his thick, powerful body up along the twisted ladder. He played the beam straight up.
“Cabin is all out of shape,” he said, shaking his head.
Ross followed him up. Mason was last, his flash moving around endlessly over the snapped joints, the wild jigsaw of destruction that had once been a powerful new ship. He kept hissing in disbelief to himself as his beam came across one violent distortion of metal after another.
“Door's sealed,” Mickey said, standing on a pretzel-twisted catwalk, bracing himself against the inside rocket wall. He grabbed the handle again and tried to pull it open.
“Give me your light,” Ross said. He directed both beams at the door
and Mickey tried to drag it open. His face grew red as he struggled. He puffed.
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “It's stuck.”
Mason came up beside them. “Maybe the cabin is still pressurized,” he said softly. He didn't like the echoing of his own voice.
“Doubt it,” Ross said, trying to think. “More than likely the jamb is twisted.” He gestured with his head again. “Help Carter.”
Mason grabbed one handle and Mickey the other. Then they braced their feet against the wall and pulled with all their strength. The door held fast. They shifted their grip, pulled harder.
“Hey, it slipped!” Mickey said. “I think we got it.”

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