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Nothing much; you re practically as good as ever. Shoulder and arm bunged up a little and something -
maybe shrapnel, though - poked you in the guts. But we ve got you all fixed up, so take it easy and. . .
What we want to know is, his partner interrupted, Is there anybody else alive up here?
Uh-huh, Kinnison shook his head.
O.K. Just wanted to be sure. Lots of business back there, and it won t do any harm to have a doctor
look at you .
Get me to a phone, as fast as you can, Kinnison directed, in a voice which he thought was strong and
full of authority, but which in fact was neither. I ve got an important message for General Weatherby, at
Spearmint.
Better tell us what it is, hadn t you? The ambulance was now jolting along what had been the road.
They ve got phones at the hospital where we re going, but you might faint or something before we get
there.
Kinnison told, but fought to retain what consciousness he had. Throughout that long, rough ride he
fought. He won. He himself spoke to General Weatherby - the doctors, knowing him to be a Captain of
Aviation and realizing that his message should go direct, helped him telephone. He himself received the
General s sizzlingly sulphurous assurance that relief would be sent and that that quadruply-qualified line
would be rectified that night.
Then someone jabbed him with a needle and he lapsed into a dizzy, fuzzy coma, from which he did not
emerge completely for weeks. He had lucid intervals at times, but he did not, at the time or ever, know
surely what was real and what was fantasy.
There were doctors, doctors, doctors; operations, operations, operations. There were hospital tents,
into which quiet men were carried; from which still quieter men were removed. There was a larger
hospital, built of wood. There was a machine that buzzed and white-clad men who studied films and
papers. There were scraps of conversation.
Belly wounds are bad, Kinnison thought - he was never sure - that he heard one of them say. And
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such contusions and multiple and compound fractures as those don t help a bit. Prognosis unfavorable -
distinctly so - but we ll soon see what we can do. Interesting case . . . fascinating. What would you do,
Doctor, if you were doing it?
I d let it alone! A younger, stronger voice declared, fervently. Multiple perforations, infection,
extravasation, oedema - uh-uh! I am watching, Doctor, and learning!
Another interlude, and another. Another. And others. Until finally, orders were given which Kinnison did
not hear at all.
Adrenalin! Massage! Massage hell out of him!
Kinnison again came to - partially to, rather - anguished in every fiber, of his being. Somebody was
sticking barbed arrows into every square inch of his skin; somebody else was pounding and mauling him
all over, taking particular pains to pummel and to wrench at all the places where he hurt the worst. He
yelled at the top of his voice; yelled and swore bitterly: QUIT IT! being the expurgated gist of his luridly
profane protests. He did not make nearly as much noise as he supposed, but he made enough.
Thank God! Kinnison heard a lighter, softer voice. Surprised, he stopped swearing and tried to stare.
He couldn t see very well, either, but he was pretty sure that there was a middle-aged woman there.
There was, and her eyes were not dry. He is going to live, after all!
As the days passed, he began really to sleep, naturally and deeply.
He grew hungrier and hungrier, and they would not give him enough to eat. He was by turns sullen,
angry, and morose. In short, he was convalescent.
For Captain Ralph K. Kinnison, THE WAR was over.
CHAPTER 5 1941
Chubby, brownette Eunice Kinnison sat in a rocker, reading the Sunday papers and listening to her
radio. Her husband Ralph lay sprawled upon the davenport, smoking a cigarette and reading the current
issue of EXTRAORDINARY STORIES against an unheard background of music. Mentally, he was far
from Tellus, flitting in his super-dreadnaught through parsec after parsec of vacuous space.
The music broke off without warning and there blared out an announcement which yanked Ralph
Kinnison back to Earth with a violence almost physical. He jumped up, jammed his hands into his
pockets. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
