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finished the job by injecting some of its own digestive fluid into the flesh. That
caused a pretty little reaction."
The Captain scratched his head. "Doctor, you did a good job. How would you
like to take care of that beast permanently? I could recommend you "
"
To go down inside that monster again? No, thanks. From now on, I treat nothing
but small monsters. Sheep, cows and human beings."
There was a pounding of feet in the hallway. Then the door swung in, violently.
Flashbulbs that gave invisible light began to pop with inaudible bursts of
high-frequency sound. Cameras pointed menacingly at him and sent his image
winging to Earth and far-off planets. Reporters be-gan to fire their questions.
"My God," he muttered wearily, "who let these ani-mals in here? They're worse
than the ones I met inside the blue pool."
"Be nice to them, dear," chided Maida gently. "They're turning you into a great
man."
Then Maida and Jerry and Martia grouped themselves around him, and the
cameras caught them too. The proud look on their faces was something to see. And
he realized that he was glad for their sake.
Opportunity had knocked, and when he had opened the door to it, it had proved
to be an exacting guest. Still, he hadn't been a bad host not a bad host at all, he
thought. And slowly his features relaxed into a tired and immediately famous grin.
ROBERT BLOCH
With indignation Bob Bloch denies a libel: "It is not true that I am a monster! I
have the heart of a small boy. I keep it in my desk drawer." Heart he has (no
matter whose); he also has wit and insight. And if sometimes what he has to tell us
is monstrous (witness his recent shuddery suspense novel Psycho, or, for that
matter, the following), it is not that he exaggerates a picture, but only that his
perceptions are so clear. Almost any writer could have conceived the setting he
describes below, but only Robert Bloch could have made it into
Daybroke
Up in the sky the warheads whirled, and the thunder of their passing shook the
mountain.
Deep in his vaulted sanctuary he sat, godlike and inscrutable, marking neither the
sparrow's nor the missile's fall. There was no need to leave his shelter to stare down
at the city.
He knew what was happening had known ever since early in the evening when
the television flickered and died. An announcer in the holy white garb of the healing
arts had been delivering an important message about the world's most popular
laxative the one most people preferred, the one four out of five doctors used
them-selves. Midway in his praise of this amazing new medical discovery he had
paused and advised the audience to stand by for a special bulletin.
But the bulletin never came; instead the screen went blank and the thunder
boomed.
All night long the mountain trembled, and the seated man trembled too; not with
anticipation but with real-ization. He had expected this, of course, and that was why
he was here. Others had talked about it for years; there had been wild rumors and
solemn warnings and much muttering in taverns. But the rumor-mongers and the
warning-sounders and the tavern-mutterers had made no move. They had stayed in
the city and he alone had fled.
Some of them, he knew, had stayed to stave off the inevitable end as best they
could, and these he saluted for their courage. Others had attempted to ignore the
future, and these he detested for their blindness. And all of them he pitied.
For he had realized, long ago, that courage was not enough and that ignorance
was no salvation. Wise words and foolish words are one they will not halt the
storm. And when the storm approaches, it is best to flee.
So he had prepared for himself this mountain retreat, high over the city, and here
he was safe; would be safe for years to come. Other men of equal wealth could have
done the same, but they were too wise or too foolish to face reality. So while they
spread their rumors and sounded their warnings and muttered in their cups, he built
his sanctuary; lead-guarded, amply provisioned, and stocked with every need for
years to come, including even a generous supply of the world's most popular
laxative.
Dawn came at last and the echoes of the thunder died, and he went to a special,
shielded place where he could sight his spyglass at the city. He stared and he
squinted, but there was nothing to be seen nothing but swirling clouds that
billowed blackly and rolled redly across the hazed horizon.
Then he knew that he must go down to the city if he wanted to find out, and made
due preparations.
There was a special suit to wear, a cunning seamless garment of insulated cloth
and lead, difficult and costly to obtain. It was a top secret suit; the kind only
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