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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..63153cd --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #51396 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51396) diff --git a/old/51396-h.zip b/old/51396-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index ebee8a0..0000000 --- a/old/51396-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/51396-h/51396-h.htm b/old/51396-h/51396-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 23841b9..0000000 --- a/old/51396-h/51396-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1152 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=us-ascii" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of Not a Creature Was Stirring, by Dean Evans. - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.caption {font-weight: bold;} - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -div.titlepage { - text-align: center; - page-break-before: always; - page-break-after: always; -} - -div.titlepage p { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; - font-weight: bold; - line-height: 1.5; - margin-top: 3em; -} - -.blockquot { - margin-left: 5%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - -.ph1, .ph2, .ph3, .ph4 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; } -.ph1 { font-size: xx-large; margin: .67em auto; } -.ph2 { font-size: x-large; margin: .75em auto; } -.ph3 { font-size: large; margin: .83em auto; } -.ph4 { font-size: medium; margin: 1.12em auto; } - - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Not a Creature Was Stirring, by Dean Evans - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Not a Creature Was Stirring - -Author: Dean Evans - -Release Date: March 8, 2016 [EBook #51396] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NOT A CREATURE WAS STIRRING *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" width="397" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> -<h1>Not a Creature Was Stirring</h1> - -<p>By DEAN EVANS</p> - -<p>Illustrated by DAVID STONE</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Galaxy Science Fiction December 1951.<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph3"><i>This could be a Christmas story. If it is, it<br /> -shows one way peace on Earth can be attained!</i></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>He was a tall, hard man with skin the color of very old iodine. When he -climbed up out of the vertical shaft of his small gold mine, <i>The Lousy -Disappointment</i>, he could have been taken for an Indian, he was that -dark. Except, of course, that Indians didn't exist any more in 1982. -His name was Tom Gannett and he was about forty years old and he didn't -realize his own uniqueness.</p> - -<p>When he made it to his feet, the first thing he did was to squint up -at the sun. The second was to sneeze, and the third to blow his nose.</p> - -<p>"Hey, you old sun!" he growled. "You old crummy sun, you look sicker'n -a dog."</p> - -<p>Which was literally true, for the sun seemed to be pretty queer. The -whole sky seemed to be pretty queer, for that matter. Skies should -be blue and the sun should be a bloated golden bauble drifting -serenely across them. But the skies were not blue; they were a dirty -purplish-gray. And the sun wasn't a bloated golden bauble; somebody -had it by the scruff of the neck and was dragging it.</p> - -<p>Gannett planted his big feet wide apart and frowned sourly around and -sniffed the air like a dog at a gopher hole. "The damn world smells -sick," he grunted.</p> - -<p>Which was also true. The world did smell sick. The world smelled -something like that peculiar odor that comes from an old graveyard -carefully tended by an old man with dank moss sticking to the soles of -his old shoes. That kind of smell.</p> - -<p>Gannett didn't know why the sun looked sick, and he didn't know why the -world smelled sick. Indeed, there were many things Gannett didn't know, -among which would be these in particular:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>(a) He did not know (since, for the last six months, he had been -living and working all alone at his little mine, which was in the -remotest of the most remote desert regions of Nevada) that a little -less than three weeks earlier, mankind had finally achieved the -inevitable: man's own annihilation.</p> - -<p>(b) He did not know that he was going to be the loneliest man on -Earth—he who was used to, and perfectly content with, the hermitlike -existence of a desert rat.</p> - -<p>(c) He furthermore did not know that there were four of the Ten -Commandments which he wasn't going to be able to break any more—not -even if he stayed up nights trying and lived for centuries.</p></div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Gannett snorted the smell from his nostrils and shrugged. Hell with it. -He thought about Reno and how he hadn't been there for nearly a year. -He thought of the dimly lighted, soft-carpeted cocktail lounges in Reno -where drinks come in long stemmed glasses and blondes in long-stemmed -legs. Reno at Christmastime, he thought. There was a town, Reno!</p> - -<p>He grinned, showing big gold teeth that blazed out of his mouth like -the glittering grille on a Buick. He dug his feet into the hard ground -and walked the hundred feet or so to his cabin where he sometimes -slept when he didn't happen to sleep in the mine. He stripped off his -grime-sodden clothes. He stepped out of them, in fact, and stretched -luxuriously as though he hadn't felt the good joy of being unclothed -for a long time.</p> - -<p>He got up and went to a corner of the cabin, rummaged out a pair of -dusty clogs and pushed his feet into them. Then—and they don't come -any nakeder than he was—he went outside and around the shack to the -rear where he kept his jeep and where the shower was.</p> - -<p>He stepped into it, for it was nothing more ornate than a large oil -drum suspended on long four by sixes. He yanked on a rope that hung -down from the drum. The result of doing that made him leap out again -dripping wet and colder than a buried mother-in-law.</p> - -<p>He shivered, eyes blinking fast. He took a deep breath. His gold -teeth went together tightly and the big muscles in his neck corded -defensively. He deliberately went under the shower again. Pawing a -sliver of laundry soap from a ledge on one of the four by sixes, he -went to work with it, and when he finally tripped the hanging rope once -more, he was a clean man.</p> - -<p>He went into the cabin. It wasn't any warmer than the great outdoors, -but that was where his clothes were. He shaved from an old granite -basin full of cold water. After that he went to a hook on the wall and -got down a suit of clothes which looked as though it had shriveled up -waiting for somebody to wear it. The last thing he did before leaving -was to pry up one of the boards behind the door and lift out of this -hiding place a small leather bag.</p> - -<p>The bag was filled with gold.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The sun was gone now. Leg-like rays of light still sprawled, -dirty-looking, in the sky over toward the California line, but aside -from these extremities, most of it was somewhere out in the Pacific. -The purplish sky was darker now. Drab. Dead, somehow.</p> - -<p>The old jeep started nicely. It always started nicely; that was one -of the good things about a jeep. The only funny thing was that out of -its exhaust pipe in the rear came angry purplish flames. Queer flames. -Gannett stared at them, surprised.</p> - -<p>"Even the damn jeep is sick," he muttered. He was wrong, of course, but -he had no way of knowing that. He backed around, finally, and went down -what he called his driveway, which was little more than rock-strewn -ground, until he came to a small dirt road. This led him to another, -larger dirt road, which in turn led him to route #395, which was a U.S. -Highway.</p> - -<p>A hundred miles farther on, he came to the outskirts of Carson City. It -wasn't until he pulled into a gas station that he realized something -was wrong. Nobody jumped out to wipe his windshield. The attendant who -still leaned in the doorway of the station had a rag in his hand, but -he didn't budge. He couldn't. His face looked like weathered leather -and he was dead.</p> - -<p>"Holy...!" whispered Gannett incredulously. He forgot about needing -gas. He jumped in the jeep and drove down the main stem and found -Police Headquarters in an old gray stone building. He knew it was -Police Headquarters for the green neon over the revolving door had -<i>CPD</i> on it and it was still burning.</p> - -<p>He went up the steps two at a time, banged through the swinging doors -and stamped straight to where the Sergeant sat at a desk over in the -corner by the switchboard.</p> - -<p>"Hey, by God!" yelled Gannett to the Desk Sergeant. "There's a guy down -the street in a gas station and he's standing up in the doorway and -he's dead as a mackerel!"</p> - -<p>Dramatic words. But the Desk Sergeant was no longer among the living -and didn't appreciate them. It took Gannett a long while to get over -that. He slowly backed away. He made the big oak doors, still backing. -He went down the stairs on legs as stiff as icicles.</p> - -<p>He got back in his jeep and started up again. He knew there was -something terribly wrong, but before he thought about it, he knew he -had to have a drink. He pulled up in front of a saloon that had nice, -cheery, glowing lights showing through the big front window. He got out -of the jeep. He went through the swinging glass doors and straight to -the bar.</p> - -<p>"Scotch!"</p> - -<p>Nobody answered. The barman behind the mahogany, facing him, didn't -make a move. The barman had a dead cigarette between his cold colorless -lips. The cigarette had a half inch of ash on it. The ash looked as -though it was sculptured out of purple marble.</p> - -<p>Gannett put both hands flat on the bar and swallowed hard. He -twisted his head and looked over the shoulder of a customer on his -left, who was leaning negligently on the bar with one elbow. There -was a half-full bottle in front of the leaning man and it had an -alert-looking horse's head stuck in the neck of it for a pouring spout.</p> - -<p>"Excuse me, Mac," Gannett whispered.</p> - -<p>The leaning man didn't twitch a muscle.</p> - -<p>Gannett sucked in a deep breath. He reached. He got the bottle. He -blinked stupidly at the bottle and then he put it down very carefully -and took another breath and looked at a highball glass in front of the -leaning man. The highball glass was empty and clean, but the leaning -man's fingers were curled lightly and gracefully around it. They were -nice fingers. White fingers. Fingers that looked as if they hadn't had -to do any hard work lately. Slender, tapering, carefully manicured -fingers.</p> - -<p>Gannett swore softly. He yanked the horse's head out and then poked -the bottle into his mouth and tilted it up. He held it until there -wasn't anything left but the very glass it was made of plus the bright -little paper label. His throat burned. He coughed. He banged the empty -bottle down on the bartop and coughed again—hard.</p> - -<p>The leaning man stirred, seemed to turn slowly, stiffly, in a half arc -that put him face to face with Gannett. Then he went down backward and -all in one piece, like a tall tree on top of a hill on a very still -night.</p> - -<p>He went down with the glass in his hand and, when he hit, swirls of -thick dust rose lazily from the floor and then settled back over his -rigid form like freshly falling snow blanketing something left out on -the front lawn.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The night was black. There wasn't a star and there wasn't a sound -except for Earth sounds, which are never very loud. Gannett sat in his -jeep with the motor running and the purple flames coming out of the -tailpipe. His hands were tight around the wheel, but the Jeep wasn't -moving. Gannett was staring off into space and his eyes looked as -though somebody had peeled them back.</p> - -<p>He said it to himself mentally, for the first few times. Then, as if -he couldn't contain them any longer, the words tumbled out of his mouth -into the night air:</p> - -<p>"Everybody's dead, by God!"</p> - -<p>He drove through deserted streets until he found an all-night -drugstore. It didn't seem funny to him just yet that the streets were -deserted; that was something he would think of later. He walked into -the drugstore and went to the newsstand and picked up a copy of the -<i>Carson Daily Bugle</i>. The date struck him first. It was the wrong date; -it was three weeks ago. He dropped it and picked up another, a Reno -paper this time. Same trouble with the date. He read the headline then:</p> - -<p class="ph4">REDS STRIKE AT TURKEY!<br /> -<i>Unveil New Weapon</i></p> - -<p>He blinked at it. There was a little more—pitifully little—to the -effect that Congress had been asked for a declaration of war in order -to defend the assaulted member of the Atlantic Pact nations.</p> - -<p>Gannett swallowed hard. He dropped the paper and turned to the clerk -who was leaning over the glass counter watching him.</p> - -<p>"Jeez!" Gannett said. "When did all this happen? I didn't even know -about it."</p> - -<p>He didn't get any answer from the clerk. He knew he wouldn't from the -way the clerk's eyes looked. They looked as if they should have been -under refrigeration.</p> - -<p>"People around dead," he muttered. "By God, the Governor oughta know -about this!"</p> - -<p>He left the drugstore and drove straight for the State Capitol -Building, which wasn't far away, for Carson City isn't very large. He -walked up the long concrete ribbon to the big stone steps. He mounted -them. He stood before the bronze doors for an instant, a feeling of awe -coming over him despite what he knew he was going to tell the Governor. -He pulled on the handle of the nearest of the bronze doors.</p> - -<p>Nothing happened.</p> - -<p>It was locked, of course. The Capitol is never open at three A.M. -(which was the exact time when it had happened three weeks ago—but he -didn't know that).</p> - -<p>A feeling of rage came over Gannett slowly, like heat radiating through -soft wood. He stood on the stone steps and faced the broad expanse of -lawn, which, in the summertime, at least, was very lovely. He slowly -pulled his leather bag of gold from his coat pocket and raised it up -so he could see it. Then he turned once more to the bronze doors and -smashed the bag of gold through one of the glass panes.</p> - -<p>"Gannett done it!" he roared. "If anybody wants to know, tell them -Gannett, by God!"</p> - -<p>He went back to his jeep. The big, darkly hulking form of the red -brick Post Office Building went by and faded into the night. He passed -a jewelry store. He looked in. An electric mantel clock in the store -window indicated the time as nine-ten. He passed a supermarket. The -big illuminated clock on the facade said nine-seven. The clock in the -service station, where he finally pulled in for gas, pointed at nine -exactly. Cycles have to be controlled if electric clocks are to keep -correct time, but that was something else he did not know.</p> - -<p>After he put back the gasoline hose, he left one more observation on -the silence of the night before driving to Reno. He said it loudly, and -there was angry frustration in every word of it:</p> - -<p>"Hell with Carson City. To <i>hell</i> with it!"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Approaching downtown Reno at night is a pleasant, cheerful experience. -There are lights all around, like a store selling electric fixtures. On -the right hand side of Virginia Street they glow brightly, each one a -little gaudier than the last. Big lights. Neon lights in all the colors -neon lights can come in. Signs on the fronts of the big gaming houses -that stay open until lights aren't needed any more; and the one flash -of light across Virginia Street at the intersection of Commercial Row -which had been photographed more times than the mind of man could have -conjectured:</p> - -<p class="ph4">RENO<br /> -<i>The Biggest Little<br /> -City in the World</i></p> - -<p>He drove slowly by the Happy Times Club. He could see quite a few -people inside. You wouldn't think there was anything wrong when you -looked at something like that.</p> - -<p>At the corner of First Street, he stopped for the signal. He pulled -around a military vehicle that seemed to be waiting for the signal, -too. It was an open vehicle, painted the olive drab of the Army, and -sitting stiffly erect behind the wheel was a natty-looking first -lieutenant with his cap at just the right angle over one eye.</p> - -<p>The signal bell up on the corner poles clanged loudly and the lights -turned green. Gannett crossed the intersection, but the lieutenant and -his military vehicle stayed behind.</p> - -<p>He went by the Golden Bubble, which was perhaps the largest and -gaudiest of all the gaming places in Reno. Its big front, done in -glass bricks with multicolored lights behind them, looked like some -monstrous kaleidoscope built for the use of the Man in the Moon. Seen -from his jeep, through the plate glass of the wide door, the interior -of the Golden Bubble seemed to be a happy, carousing place full of the -joyous laughter of folks having a fine time. Only that wasn't so, of -course, for the only sounds to be heard were the jeep's motor and the -signal bells on the corner poles.</p> - -<p>Gannett parked. He walked back, went slowly through the doors of the -Golden Bubble. The first thing that met his eyes was the flashing -welcome grin of the head waiter, who was dressed in a tuxedo just -inside the doors. The head waiter had his hand half out, as if to shake -the hand of Gannett as he came in. Gannett almost stuck out his own -hand in return—but not quite.</p> - -<p>He went to the bar. He didn't look at the barman lying on the floor -with his ear in the spittoon. He shambled around the end of the bar, -took a full bottle of scotch off the backbar shelf, broke the seal and -took a long swallow. The bartender didn't notice.</p> - -<p>After that he took the bottle with him out on the floor. He went around -a man in an overcoat who looked to be uncomfortably warm but wasn't. -He went over to a roulette table and stared the croupier straight in -the eyes. He reached for a pile of chips under the croupier's right -hand and slid them over.</p> - -<p>"Double zero," he said.</p> - -<p>The croupier looked bored, which was the way a croupier should look. -Gannett reached down and gave the wheel a spin and then stood back -and waited. The croupier waited. Two women and one man, on Gannett's -right, also waited. The ball clicked merrily, came to a stop. The wheel -slowed, finally rested.</p> - -<p>It wasn't double zero. Gannett reached for the croupier's rake and -shoved his pile of chips back under the croupier's protecting right -hand.</p> - -<p>"Lousy wheel is fixed," Gannett said.</p> - -<p>Nobody argued with him on that.</p> - -<p>He uncorked his scotch bottle and took a long pull. Nobody objected to -that, either, the croupier still looked bored; and the two women and -the one man waited patiently for the Day of Judgment.</p> - -<p>Gannett went over to a cashier window and reached in and got a handful -of silver dollars. He took them to the machines over against the far -wall and stuck in a couple and pulled the two handles simultaneously. -For his investment he got back five dollars, which one of the machines -disgorged with a loud clatter. He put more dollars in. He put them -in fast and pulled the levers fast. He went down the entire row of -machines and pulled the levers as he went. He didn't linger to see what -happened at any of them.</p> - -<p>He began to feel cold. He took out his scotch bottle again and -half emptied it. A woman who looked as if she were someone's -great-grandmother, except that her hair was bleached and fingernails -were sharp talons, and who sat in a chrome and leather chair not six -feet away from him, stared a little disapprovingly. Gannett caught the -look.</p> - -<p>"Lady," he said defensively, "I earned me a holiday, see? It's none of -your business if I do some celebrating, is it?"</p> - -<p>The lady didn't change her mind. She looked as though she might prefer -gin herself.</p> - -<p>Gannett belched. He wasn't so cold now. He threw back his head and -laughed and listened to the sound of it bounce off walls. He did it -again. He was feeling fine.</p> - -<p>He went back to the roulette wheel, got around behind it and nudged the -croupier gently. The croupier went over like a broom sliding down the -side of a wall.</p> - -<p>Gannett picked up the little plastic rake and looked at the two women -and one man.</p> - -<p>"Place your bets, folks," he said, in a low tone that was a pretty good -imitation of the drone of a professional man.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus1.jpg" width="600" height="388" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>He separated the chips into four neat piles. He pushed a pile each at -the two women, one to the man. The last he kept for himself.</p> - -<p>"Place your bets, folks," he repeated.</p> - -<p>Nobody did, but that was okay anyhow. Grinning happily, he made bets -for them. One of the women—the one that was redheaded—looked to him -as if she might be a plunger. He shoved her pile of chips over onto -zero and then he gave her a friendly little wink. The other woman was -the careful type, he thought. Her chips—not all of them, of course—he -shoved for red. He disposed of the man perfunctorily: ten dollars on -plain number nine. His own bet was due a little more deliberation. He -carefully spread around five hundred dollars until the strip looked as -if eighteen people were playing it all at once.</p> - -<p>The effort made him sweat. He reached for his bottle, emptied it, then -dropped it on the fallen croupier.</p> - -<p>"Folks," Gannett said in an apologetic tone, "you'll have to pardon me -a minute. It seems I'm out of fuel. Don't go away; I'll be right back."</p> - -<p>Everybody was agreeable. Gannett went back to the bar, went around -behind it.</p> - -<p>He said to the barman: "I got a party out there, Doc. A big party, see? -The house might stand to make a mint. How's about drinks?"</p> - -<p>The barman considered it. The barman was still considering it when -Gannett went back to the wheel with a fifth of scotch and four glasses -and a dish of olives. He made drinks. In each one he put an olive. By -this time, of course, he was getting a little loud, but nobody could -blame him for that. When the drinks were made and placed before the two -women and the man, he was ready. He grinned around, rubbed his hands -together and winked a sly little leering wink at the redhead.</p> - -<p>The wheel spun, stopped. Zero. The redhead had brought down the house.</p> - -<p>"By God!" whispered Gannett in frank admiration. "Lady, you sure got -luck. 'Nother little snifter just to nail it tight?"</p> - -<p>Gannett liked the idea. He drank her drink for her and made a face -over the olive. He poured another. He made more bets for everybody and -then thought of something. Excusing himself once more, he got a roll -of quarters from the cashier cage and, breaking it open, fed them into -a big glittering juke box over in the corner. That done, he pushed -down a row of tabs and went back to the table.</p> - -<p>Everybody seemed to be having a time. The redhead just couldn't lose. -Three separate times Gannett was forced to collect chips from other -tables in order to keep the game going, but he didn't mind. He even -said to the redhead once:</p> - -<p>"Lady, ten more minutes and we sign the joint over to you. But have -fun; you're doing swell."</p> - -<p>Once more he consulted the thoughtful barman, and more than once he had -to go back to the juke box and punch tabs, but that was all right. He -liked music.</p> - -<p>At ten minutes past three in the morning, with all the chips in the -place before the lucky redhead he finished his last bottle.</p> - -<p>He lifted his eyes and considered a crystal chandelier which hung from -the exact center of the broad ceiling. It was a beautiful chandelier. -It looked as though it might have graced the banquet hall of some -castle over in England, back in the days when England was a tight -little isle. He grinned appreciatively at it. He pitched the empty -bottle upward.</p> - -<p>There was a crash. Half the lights in the place went out.</p> - -<p>Bowing solemnly to the scattered immobile figures, Gannett lurched to -the big door up front. He tried a bow to the friendly floorman, but -it didn't quite go over. He banged through the doors and out into the -street.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Gannett groaned his aching body out of bed and padded heavily to the -window. He put his big hands on the sill and looked out. Purple snow -was falling on a quiet world. The flakes came down softly, big wet, -colored things like fluffy bits of cotton candy escaping from a circus -in the sky. There was his jeep down on the street where he had left it. -He could recognize it, for it was the only jeep on the block.</p> - -<p>"Then it wasn't no lousy dream," he said miserably.</p> - -<p>He went back to the bed and sat down on the edge of it. He recalled the -headlines in the paper.</p> - -<p>"Them lousy Reds," he whispered. "They done this, sure as hell."</p> - -<p>That made him think a little. Everybody was dead, even the redhead in -the Golden Bubble who couldn't lose.</p> - -<p>"What the hell am I doin' alive, then?" he asked himself.</p> - -<p>There was no answer to that. He thought of his mine, <i>The Lousy -Disappointment</i>, and wondered if, living most of the time below the -surface as he did, he had been protected from some sort of purple gas -or something that seemed to have killed off everybody else. It could -be. Some very light gas, maybe, that wouldn't seep below the surface.</p> - -<p>"Aw, for cripe sakes!" he grunted disgustedly.</p> - -<p>He dressed and left the room. He went downstairs. There was the lobby, -all soft, quiet carpeting and soft, quiet furniture and soft, quiet -drapes. A sheet of paper on a writing desk said <i>Grand Pachappa</i>. He -was in a hotel, then. He must have wandered into it after he left the -Golden Bubble.</p> - -<p>He carefully avoided looking at two well-dressed women who sat in -lobby chairs, staring off into nothing, but he felt their presence -chillingly. He shivered. He made his way outside, the purple snow -coming down and giving his cheeks wet, cold caresses. He angrily -brushed them off, but they came down anyway. Above the snow, the sky -was a sodden mass of purplish gray.</p> - -<p>He found a restaurant that was open. A few customers sat on the stools -like statues in a museum. All the coffeemakers were on the electric -stove, but they were dry and clean except one that had no bottom in it -any more and was quite discolored. Beneath it, the round electric coil -still glowed faithfully.</p> - -<p>He grabbed up one of the clean pots and took it to the metal rinse -sink and reached for the faucet. And then his hand froze. What if the -water was tainted? He had no way of finding out if it didn't carry that -identifying purplish tint. He tried the faucet. It did.</p> - -<p>The milk in the refrigerator was three weeks old, of course. Gannett -ended by opening a bottle of Pepsi Cola for breakfast.</p> - -<p>The sky stayed leaden, but even so there were many things apparent -now that he hadn't seen the night before. A lack of heavy traffic on -the streets would seem to indicate that what had happened—purple gas -or whatever—had been very late at night; even so, traffic accidents -were everywhere. There was one big sedan with its front end crushed -against the First Olympic Bank. There was one cop who had died trying -to tie his right shoe—his fingers still clutched the laces. There was -a doctor (his car had a caduceus emblem on the windshield) who had just -stepped down to the street, his bag in his left hand and his right hand -on the door, ready to slam it shut. He had a serious, purposeful look -on his face that even the falling purple snow couldn't quite eradicate.</p> - -<p>Despite the cold, sweat frosted Gannett's forehead. He made his way -to a radio and television store and kicked in a glass panel of the -front door. Stepping through to the clamor of the suddenly aroused -night-warning bell, he went directly to a TV set and turned it on.</p> - -<p>The big screen tube flickered after a while and a scratching hum came -out of the speaker, but nothing happened. He tried all the channels. -Nothing.</p> - -<p>He tuned in a big radio console next, going carefully and slowly across -the dial with a hand that shook. Even though the night-warning bell was -kicking up quite a racket, he could tell after a moment or two.</p> - -<p>Nothing....</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The sky was getting dark as Gannett left the store. The purple snow -still fell. It was then that he noticed for the first time the gay -street decorations in preparation for Christmas. Big paper bells with -plenty of glittering tinsel and electric lamps inside them.</p> - -<p>On the corner of First and Virginia, he saw a big iron kettle of some -Salvation Army Santa. Hanging from its metal tripod, it looked quite -natural, except that it was filled with purple snow; and the Santa who -was supposed to ring his little bell was holding it stiffly over his -head. He and the bell were frozen silent.</p> - -<p>There was a large department store. Inside, in the show window, was -a Christmas display that would delight the kiddies. There was a big -Christmas tree trimmed with every imaginable ornament.</p> - -<p>Beneath the tree, electrically activated toy soldiers jerked robotlike -through their precise military designations, their lithographed faces -looking stern and very brave. There was a clown who did uncounted -somersaults; a lifelike doll who clapped her hands in glee. There was -an aluminum bomber with a wing-spread of three feet—it was held in the -air by almost invisible wires—and its six propellers droned in perfect -unison, making a brisk little wash that rustled the silk of the little -doll's dress. And around the base of the tree, through valley and over -mountain, into tunnel and over spiderweb trestle, was a railroad track. -It should have had busy little trains on it, except that it didn't—the -trains had been derailed at a whistle stop called North Pole.</p> - -<p>Gannett's eyes twitched.</p> - -<p>The sky grew darker; the purple snow continued to fall silently. -Gannett went by the Masonic Lodge, the YMCA, and crossed the little -stone bridge over the frozen Truckee River. He came to the heavy gray -stone building of First Community Church.</p> - -<p>He stopped in front of the church and stared at it. It was a solid, -respectable-looking building. It was a very nice thing, indeed, to have -here in Reno.</p> - -<p>"Christmas Eve," Gannett whispered through cold lips. "This is -Christmas Eve!"</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus2.jpg" width="304" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>He went up six purple-snow covered stone steps. He reached the top -where the stone steps ended and where the big square stone slab was, -that slab where the minister stands when the weather is fair, and -shakes hands with the congregation after the service.</p> - -<p>Somewhere above, in the steeple, bells struck off the hour of eight. A -timing device did that. Many churches had such timing devices to save -labor. And as though that were a signal, a loudspeaker, attached way up -on the spire especially for this festive season, began to growl out -preparatory scratching noises, like a big metal monster clearing its -throat.</p> - -<p>Gannett pulled on the wrought brass handles of the closed oaken door. -The door didn't budge. He grabbed the handles in both hands and braced -his feet. He pulled hard. The door was locked.</p> - -<p>"God," he whispered hoarsely. "God, this is me. I gotta get in, God. -God, listen, <i>I gotta get in</i>!"</p> - -<p>High above, in the steeple, the loudspeaker was finally ready with a -cheerful little carol.</p> - -<p>"<i>God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen!</i>" the voices of a dead choir roared out -upon the silent city.</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Not a Creature Was Stirring, by Dean Evans - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NOT A CREATURE WAS STIRRING *** - -***** This file should be named 51396-h.htm or 51396-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/3/9/51396/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Not a Creature Was Stirring - -Author: Dean Evans - -Release Date: March 8, 2016 [EBook #51396] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NOT A CREATURE WAS STIRRING *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - Not a Creature Was Stirring - - By DEAN EVANS - - Illustrated by DAVID STONE - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Galaxy Science Fiction December 1951. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - - - - This could be a Christmas story. If it is, it - shows one way peace on Earth can be attained! - - -He was a tall, hard man with skin the color of very old iodine. When he -climbed up out of the vertical shaft of his small gold mine, _The Lousy -Disappointment_, he could have been taken for an Indian, he was that -dark. Except, of course, that Indians didn't exist any more in 1982. -His name was Tom Gannett and he was about forty years old and he didn't -realize his own uniqueness. - -When he made it to his feet, the first thing he did was to squint up -at the sun. The second was to sneeze, and the third to blow his nose. - -"Hey, you old sun!" he growled. "You old crummy sun, you look sicker'n -a dog." - -Which was literally true, for the sun seemed to be pretty queer. The -whole sky seemed to be pretty queer, for that matter. Skies should -be blue and the sun should be a bloated golden bauble drifting -serenely across them. But the skies were not blue; they were a dirty -purplish-gray. And the sun wasn't a bloated golden bauble; somebody -had it by the scruff of the neck and was dragging it. - -Gannett planted his big feet wide apart and frowned sourly around and -sniffed the air like a dog at a gopher hole. "The damn world smells -sick," he grunted. - -Which was also true. The world did smell sick. The world smelled -something like that peculiar odor that comes from an old graveyard -carefully tended by an old man with dank moss sticking to the soles of -his old shoes. That kind of smell. - -Gannett didn't know why the sun looked sick, and he didn't know why the -world smelled sick. Indeed, there were many things Gannett didn't know, -among which would be these in particular: - - (a) He did not know (since, for the last six months, he had been - living and working all alone at his little mine, which was in the - remotest of the most remote desert regions of Nevada) that a little - less than three weeks earlier, mankind had finally achieved the - inevitable: man's own annihilation. - - (b) He did not know that he was going to be the loneliest man on - Earth--he who was used to, and perfectly content with, the - hermitlike existence of a desert rat. - - (c) He furthermore did not know that there were four of the Ten - Commandments which he wasn't going to be able to break any - more--not even if he stayed up nights trying and lived for - centuries. - - * * * * * - -Gannett snorted the smell from his nostrils and shrugged. Hell with it. -He thought about Reno and how he hadn't been there for nearly a year. -He thought of the dimly lighted, soft-carpeted cocktail lounges in Reno -where drinks come in long stemmed glasses and blondes in long-stemmed -legs. Reno at Christmastime, he thought. There was a town, Reno! - -He grinned, showing big gold teeth that blazed out of his mouth like -the glittering grille on a Buick. He dug his feet into the hard ground -and walked the hundred feet or so to his cabin where he sometimes -slept when he didn't happen to sleep in the mine. He stripped off his -grime-sodden clothes. He stepped out of them, in fact, and stretched -luxuriously as though he hadn't felt the good joy of being unclothed -for a long time. - -He got up and went to a corner of the cabin, rummaged out a pair of -dusty clogs and pushed his feet into them. Then--and they don't come -any nakeder than he was--he went outside and around the shack to the -rear where he kept his jeep and where the shower was. - -He stepped into it, for it was nothing more ornate than a large oil -drum suspended on long four by sixes. He yanked on a rope that hung -down from the drum. The result of doing that made him leap out again -dripping wet and colder than a buried mother-in-law. - -He shivered, eyes blinking fast. He took a deep breath. His gold -teeth went together tightly and the big muscles in his neck corded -defensively. He deliberately went under the shower again. Pawing a -sliver of laundry soap from a ledge on one of the four by sixes, he -went to work with it, and when he finally tripped the hanging rope once -more, he was a clean man. - -He went into the cabin. It wasn't any warmer than the great outdoors, -but that was where his clothes were. He shaved from an old granite -basin full of cold water. After that he went to a hook on the wall and -got down a suit of clothes which looked as though it had shriveled up -waiting for somebody to wear it. The last thing he did before leaving -was to pry up one of the boards behind the door and lift out of this -hiding place a small leather bag. - -The bag was filled with gold. - - * * * * * - -The sun was gone now. Leg-like rays of light still sprawled, -dirty-looking, in the sky over toward the California line, but aside -from these extremities, most of it was somewhere out in the Pacific. -The purplish sky was darker now. Drab. Dead, somehow. - -The old jeep started nicely. It always started nicely; that was one -of the good things about a jeep. The only funny thing was that out of -its exhaust pipe in the rear came angry purplish flames. Queer flames. -Gannett stared at them, surprised. - -"Even the damn jeep is sick," he muttered. He was wrong, of course, but -he had no way of knowing that. He backed around, finally, and went down -what he called his driveway, which was little more than rock-strewn -ground, until he came to a small dirt road. This led him to another, -larger dirt road, which in turn led him to route #395, which was a U.S. -Highway. - -A hundred miles farther on, he came to the outskirts of Carson City. It -wasn't until he pulled into a gas station that he realized something -was wrong. Nobody jumped out to wipe his windshield. The attendant who -still leaned in the doorway of the station had a rag in his hand, but -he didn't budge. He couldn't. His face looked like weathered leather -and he was dead. - -"Holy...!" whispered Gannett incredulously. He forgot about needing -gas. He jumped in the jeep and drove down the main stem and found -Police Headquarters in an old gray stone building. He knew it was -Police Headquarters for the green neon over the revolving door had -_CPD_ on it and it was still burning. - -He went up the steps two at a time, banged through the swinging doors -and stamped straight to where the Sergeant sat at a desk over in the -corner by the switchboard. - -"Hey, by God!" yelled Gannett to the Desk Sergeant. "There's a guy down -the street in a gas station and he's standing up in the doorway and -he's dead as a mackerel!" - -Dramatic words. But the Desk Sergeant was no longer among the living -and didn't appreciate them. It took Gannett a long while to get over -that. He slowly backed away. He made the big oak doors, still backing. -He went down the stairs on legs as stiff as icicles. - -He got back in his jeep and started up again. He knew there was -something terribly wrong, but before he thought about it, he knew he -had to have a drink. He pulled up in front of a saloon that had nice, -cheery, glowing lights showing through the big front window. He got out -of the jeep. He went through the swinging glass doors and straight to -the bar. - -"Scotch!" - -Nobody answered. The barman behind the mahogany, facing him, didn't -make a move. The barman had a dead cigarette between his cold colorless -lips. The cigarette had a half inch of ash on it. The ash looked as -though it was sculptured out of purple marble. - -Gannett put both hands flat on the bar and swallowed hard. He -twisted his head and looked over the shoulder of a customer on his -left, who was leaning negligently on the bar with one elbow. There -was a half-full bottle in front of the leaning man and it had an -alert-looking horse's head stuck in the neck of it for a pouring spout. - -"Excuse me, Mac," Gannett whispered. - -The leaning man didn't twitch a muscle. - -Gannett sucked in a deep breath. He reached. He got the bottle. He -blinked stupidly at the bottle and then he put it down very carefully -and took another breath and looked at a highball glass in front of the -leaning man. The highball glass was empty and clean, but the leaning -man's fingers were curled lightly and gracefully around it. They were -nice fingers. White fingers. Fingers that looked as if they hadn't had -to do any hard work lately. Slender, tapering, carefully manicured -fingers. - -Gannett swore softly. He yanked the horse's head out and then poked -the bottle into his mouth and tilted it up. He held it until there -wasn't anything left but the very glass it was made of plus the bright -little paper label. His throat burned. He coughed. He banged the empty -bottle down on the bartop and coughed again--hard. - -The leaning man stirred, seemed to turn slowly, stiffly, in a half arc -that put him face to face with Gannett. Then he went down backward and -all in one piece, like a tall tree on top of a hill on a very still -night. - -He went down with the glass in his hand and, when he hit, swirls of -thick dust rose lazily from the floor and then settled back over his -rigid form like freshly falling snow blanketing something left out on -the front lawn. - - * * * * * - -The night was black. There wasn't a star and there wasn't a sound -except for Earth sounds, which are never very loud. Gannett sat in his -jeep with the motor running and the purple flames coming out of the -tailpipe. His hands were tight around the wheel, but the Jeep wasn't -moving. Gannett was staring off into space and his eyes looked as -though somebody had peeled them back. - -He said it to himself mentally, for the first few times. Then, as if -he couldn't contain them any longer, the words tumbled out of his mouth -into the night air: - -"Everybody's dead, by God!" - -He drove through deserted streets until he found an all-night -drugstore. It didn't seem funny to him just yet that the streets were -deserted; that was something he would think of later. He walked into -the drugstore and went to the newsstand and picked up a copy of the -_Carson Daily Bugle_. The date struck him first. It was the wrong date; -it was three weeks ago. He dropped it and picked up another, a Reno -paper this time. Same trouble with the date. He read the headline then: - - REDS STRIKE AT TURKEY! - Unveil New Weapon - -He blinked at it. There was a little more--pitifully little--to the -effect that Congress had been asked for a declaration of war in order -to defend the assaulted member of the Atlantic Pact nations. - -Gannett swallowed hard. He dropped the paper and turned to the clerk -who was leaning over the glass counter watching him. - -"Jeez!" Gannett said. "When did all this happen? I didn't even know -about it." - -He didn't get any answer from the clerk. He knew he wouldn't from the -way the clerk's eyes looked. They looked as if they should have been -under refrigeration. - -"People around dead," he muttered. "By God, the Governor oughta know -about this!" - -He left the drugstore and drove straight for the State Capitol -Building, which wasn't far away, for Carson City isn't very large. He -walked up the long concrete ribbon to the big stone steps. He mounted -them. He stood before the bronze doors for an instant, a feeling of awe -coming over him despite what he knew he was going to tell the Governor. -He pulled on the handle of the nearest of the bronze doors. - -Nothing happened. - -It was locked, of course. The Capitol is never open at three A.M. -(which was the exact time when it had happened three weeks ago--but he -didn't know that). - -A feeling of rage came over Gannett slowly, like heat radiating through -soft wood. He stood on the stone steps and faced the broad expanse of -lawn, which, in the summertime, at least, was very lovely. He slowly -pulled his leather bag of gold from his coat pocket and raised it up -so he could see it. Then he turned once more to the bronze doors and -smashed the bag of gold through one of the glass panes. - -"Gannett done it!" he roared. "If anybody wants to know, tell them -Gannett, by God!" - -He went back to his jeep. The big, darkly hulking form of the red -brick Post Office Building went by and faded into the night. He passed -a jewelry store. He looked in. An electric mantel clock in the store -window indicated the time as nine-ten. He passed a supermarket. The -big illuminated clock on the facade said nine-seven. The clock in the -service station, where he finally pulled in for gas, pointed at nine -exactly. Cycles have to be controlled if electric clocks are to keep -correct time, but that was something else he did not know. - -After he put back the gasoline hose, he left one more observation on -the silence of the night before driving to Reno. He said it loudly, and -there was angry frustration in every word of it: - -"Hell with Carson City. To _hell_ with it!" - - * * * * * - -Approaching downtown Reno at night is a pleasant, cheerful experience. -There are lights all around, like a store selling electric fixtures. On -the right hand side of Virginia Street they glow brightly, each one a -little gaudier than the last. Big lights. Neon lights in all the colors -neon lights can come in. Signs on the fronts of the big gaming houses -that stay open until lights aren't needed any more; and the one flash -of light across Virginia Street at the intersection of Commercial Row -which had been photographed more times than the mind of man could have -conjectured: - - RENO - The Biggest Little City in the World - -He drove slowly by the Happy Times Club. He could see quite a few -people inside. You wouldn't think there was anything wrong when you -looked at something like that. - -At the corner of First Street, he stopped for the signal. He pulled -around a military vehicle that seemed to be waiting for the signal, -too. It was an open vehicle, painted the olive drab of the Army, and -sitting stiffly erect behind the wheel was a natty-looking first -lieutenant with his cap at just the right angle over one eye. - -The signal bell up on the corner poles clanged loudly and the lights -turned green. Gannett crossed the intersection, but the lieutenant and -his military vehicle stayed behind. - -He went by the Golden Bubble, which was perhaps the largest and -gaudiest of all the gaming places in Reno. Its big front, done in -glass bricks with multicolored lights behind them, looked like some -monstrous kaleidoscope built for the use of the Man in the Moon. Seen -from his jeep, through the plate glass of the wide door, the interior -of the Golden Bubble seemed to be a happy, carousing place full of the -joyous laughter of folks having a fine time. Only that wasn't so, of -course, for the only sounds to be heard were the jeep's motor and the -signal bells on the corner poles. - -Gannett parked. He walked back, went slowly through the doors of the -Golden Bubble. The first thing that met his eyes was the flashing -welcome grin of the head waiter, who was dressed in a tuxedo just -inside the doors. The head waiter had his hand half out, as if to shake -the hand of Gannett as he came in. Gannett almost stuck out his own -hand in return--but not quite. - -He went to the bar. He didn't look at the barman lying on the floor -with his ear in the spittoon. He shambled around the end of the bar, -took a full bottle of scotch off the backbar shelf, broke the seal and -took a long swallow. The bartender didn't notice. - -After that he took the bottle with him out on the floor. He went around -a man in an overcoat who looked to be uncomfortably warm but wasn't. -He went over to a roulette table and stared the croupier straight in -the eyes. He reached for a pile of chips under the croupier's right -hand and slid them over. - -"Double zero," he said. - -The croupier looked bored, which was the way a croupier should look. -Gannett reached down and gave the wheel a spin and then stood back -and waited. The croupier waited. Two women and one man, on Gannett's -right, also waited. The ball clicked merrily, came to a stop. The wheel -slowed, finally rested. - -It wasn't double zero. Gannett reached for the croupier's rake and -shoved his pile of chips back under the croupier's protecting right -hand. - -"Lousy wheel is fixed," Gannett said. - -Nobody argued with him on that. - -He uncorked his scotch bottle and took a long pull. Nobody objected to -that, either, the croupier still looked bored; and the two women and -the one man waited patiently for the Day of Judgment. - -Gannett went over to a cashier window and reached in and got a handful -of silver dollars. He took them to the machines over against the far -wall and stuck in a couple and pulled the two handles simultaneously. -For his investment he got back five dollars, which one of the machines -disgorged with a loud clatter. He put more dollars in. He put them -in fast and pulled the levers fast. He went down the entire row of -machines and pulled the levers as he went. He didn't linger to see what -happened at any of them. - -He began to feel cold. He took out his scotch bottle again and -half emptied it. A woman who looked as if she were someone's -great-grandmother, except that her hair was bleached and fingernails -were sharp talons, and who sat in a chrome and leather chair not six -feet away from him, stared a little disapprovingly. Gannett caught the -look. - -"Lady," he said defensively, "I earned me a holiday, see? It's none of -your business if I do some celebrating, is it?" - -The lady didn't change her mind. She looked as though she might prefer -gin herself. - -Gannett belched. He wasn't so cold now. He threw back his head and -laughed and listened to the sound of it bounce off walls. He did it -again. He was feeling fine. - -He went back to the roulette wheel, got around behind it and nudged the -croupier gently. The croupier went over like a broom sliding down the -side of a wall. - -Gannett picked up the little plastic rake and looked at the two women -and one man. - -"Place your bets, folks," he said, in a low tone that was a pretty good -imitation of the drone of a professional man. - -He separated the chips into four neat piles. He pushed a pile each at -the two women, one to the man. The last he kept for himself. - -"Place your bets, folks," he repeated. - -Nobody did, but that was okay anyhow. Grinning happily, he made bets -for them. One of the women--the one that was redheaded--looked to him -as if she might be a plunger. He shoved her pile of chips over onto -zero and then he gave her a friendly little wink. The other woman was -the careful type, he thought. Her chips--not all of them, of course--he -shoved for red. He disposed of the man perfunctorily: ten dollars on -plain number nine. His own bet was due a little more deliberation. He -carefully spread around five hundred dollars until the strip looked as -if eighteen people were playing it all at once. - -The effort made him sweat. He reached for his bottle, emptied it, then -dropped it on the fallen croupier. - -"Folks," Gannett said in an apologetic tone, "you'll have to pardon me -a minute. It seems I'm out of fuel. Don't go away; I'll be right back." - -Everybody was agreeable. Gannett went back to the bar, went around -behind it. - -He said to the barman: "I got a party out there, Doc. A big party, see? -The house might stand to make a mint. How's about drinks?" - -The barman considered it. The barman was still considering it when -Gannett went back to the wheel with a fifth of scotch and four glasses -and a dish of olives. He made drinks. In each one he put an olive. By -this time, of course, he was getting a little loud, but nobody could -blame him for that. When the drinks were made and placed before the two -women and the man, he was ready. He grinned around, rubbed his hands -together and winked a sly little leering wink at the redhead. - -The wheel spun, stopped. Zero. The redhead had brought down the house. - -"By God!" whispered Gannett in frank admiration. "Lady, you sure got -luck. 'Nother little snifter just to nail it tight?" - -Gannett liked the idea. He drank her drink for her and made a face -over the olive. He poured another. He made more bets for everybody and -then thought of something. Excusing himself once more, he got a roll -of quarters from the cashier cage and, breaking it open, fed them into -a big glittering juke box over in the corner. That done, he pushed -down a row of tabs and went back to the table. - -Everybody seemed to be having a time. The redhead just couldn't lose. -Three separate times Gannett was forced to collect chips from other -tables in order to keep the game going, but he didn't mind. He even -said to the redhead once: - -"Lady, ten more minutes and we sign the joint over to you. But have -fun; you're doing swell." - -Once more he consulted the thoughtful barman, and more than once he had -to go back to the juke box and punch tabs, but that was all right. He -liked music. - -At ten minutes past three in the morning, with all the chips in the -place before the lucky redhead he finished his last bottle. - -He lifted his eyes and considered a crystal chandelier which hung from -the exact center of the broad ceiling. It was a beautiful chandelier. -It looked as though it might have graced the banquet hall of some -castle over in England, back in the days when England was a tight -little isle. He grinned appreciatively at it. He pitched the empty -bottle upward. - -There was a crash. Half the lights in the place went out. - -Bowing solemnly to the scattered immobile figures, Gannett lurched to -the big door up front. He tried a bow to the friendly floorman, but -it didn't quite go over. He banged through the doors and out into the -street. - - * * * * * - -Gannett groaned his aching body out of bed and padded heavily to the -window. He put his big hands on the sill and looked out. Purple snow -was falling on a quiet world. The flakes came down softly, big wet, -colored things like fluffy bits of cotton candy escaping from a circus -in the sky. There was his jeep down on the street where he had left it. -He could recognize it, for it was the only jeep on the block. - -"Then it wasn't no lousy dream," he said miserably. - -He went back to the bed and sat down on the edge of it. He recalled the -headlines in the paper. - -"Them lousy Reds," he whispered. "They done this, sure as hell." - -That made him think a little. Everybody was dead, even the redhead in -the Golden Bubble who couldn't lose. - -"What the hell am I doin' alive, then?" he asked himself. - -There was no answer to that. He thought of his mine, _The Lousy -Disappointment_, and wondered if, living most of the time below the -surface as he did, he had been protected from some sort of purple gas -or something that seemed to have killed off everybody else. It could -be. Some very light gas, maybe, that wouldn't seep below the surface. - -"Aw, for cripe sakes!" he grunted disgustedly. - -He dressed and left the room. He went downstairs. There was the lobby, -all soft, quiet carpeting and soft, quiet furniture and soft, quiet -drapes. A sheet of paper on a writing desk said _Grand Pachappa_. He -was in a hotel, then. He must have wandered into it after he left the -Golden Bubble. - -He carefully avoided looking at two well-dressed women who sat in -lobby chairs, staring off into nothing, but he felt their presence -chillingly. He shivered. He made his way outside, the purple snow -coming down and giving his cheeks wet, cold caresses. He angrily -brushed them off, but they came down anyway. Above the snow, the sky -was a sodden mass of purplish gray. - -He found a restaurant that was open. A few customers sat on the stools -like statues in a museum. All the coffeemakers were on the electric -stove, but they were dry and clean except one that had no bottom in it -any more and was quite discolored. Beneath it, the round electric coil -still glowed faithfully. - -He grabbed up one of the clean pots and took it to the metal rinse -sink and reached for the faucet. And then his hand froze. What if the -water was tainted? He had no way of finding out if it didn't carry that -identifying purplish tint. He tried the faucet. It did. - -The milk in the refrigerator was three weeks old, of course. Gannett -ended by opening a bottle of Pepsi Cola for breakfast. - -The sky stayed leaden, but even so there were many things apparent -now that he hadn't seen the night before. A lack of heavy traffic on -the streets would seem to indicate that what had happened--purple gas -or whatever--had been very late at night; even so, traffic accidents -were everywhere. There was one big sedan with its front end crushed -against the First Olympic Bank. There was one cop who had died trying -to tie his right shoe--his fingers still clutched the laces. There was -a doctor (his car had a caduceus emblem on the windshield) who had just -stepped down to the street, his bag in his left hand and his right hand -on the door, ready to slam it shut. He had a serious, purposeful look -on his face that even the falling purple snow couldn't quite eradicate. - -Despite the cold, sweat frosted Gannett's forehead. He made his way -to a radio and television store and kicked in a glass panel of the -front door. Stepping through to the clamor of the suddenly aroused -night-warning bell, he went directly to a TV set and turned it on. - -The big screen tube flickered after a while and a scratching hum came -out of the speaker, but nothing happened. He tried all the channels. -Nothing. - -He tuned in a big radio console next, going carefully and slowly across -the dial with a hand that shook. Even though the night-warning bell was -kicking up quite a racket, he could tell after a moment or two. - -Nothing.... - - * * * * * - -The sky was getting dark as Gannett left the store. The purple snow -still fell. It was then that he noticed for the first time the gay -street decorations in preparation for Christmas. Big paper bells with -plenty of glittering tinsel and electric lamps inside them. - -On the corner of First and Virginia, he saw a big iron kettle of some -Salvation Army Santa. Hanging from its metal tripod, it looked quite -natural, except that it was filled with purple snow; and the Santa who -was supposed to ring his little bell was holding it stiffly over his -head. He and the bell were frozen silent. - -There was a large department store. Inside, in the show window, was -a Christmas display that would delight the kiddies. There was a big -Christmas tree trimmed with every imaginable ornament. - -Beneath the tree, electrically activated toy soldiers jerked robotlike -through their precise military designations, their lithographed faces -looking stern and very brave. There was a clown who did uncounted -somersaults; a lifelike doll who clapped her hands in glee. There was -an aluminum bomber with a wing-spread of three feet--it was held in the -air by almost invisible wires--and its six propellers droned in perfect -unison, making a brisk little wash that rustled the silk of the little -doll's dress. And around the base of the tree, through valley and over -mountain, into tunnel and over spiderweb trestle, was a railroad track. -It should have had busy little trains on it, except that it didn't--the -trains had been derailed at a whistle stop called North Pole. - -Gannett's eyes twitched. - -The sky grew darker; the purple snow continued to fall silently. -Gannett went by the Masonic Lodge, the YMCA, and crossed the little -stone bridge over the frozen Truckee River. He came to the heavy gray -stone building of First Community Church. - -He stopped in front of the church and stared at it. It was a solid, -respectable-looking building. It was a very nice thing, indeed, to have -here in Reno. - -"Christmas Eve," Gannett whispered through cold lips. "This is -Christmas Eve!" - -He went up six purple-snow covered stone steps. He reached the top -where the stone steps ended and where the big square stone slab was, -that slab where the minister stands when the weather is fair, and -shakes hands with the congregation after the service. - -Somewhere above, in the steeple, bells struck off the hour of eight. A -timing device did that. Many churches had such timing devices to save -labor. And as though that were a signal, a loudspeaker, attached way up -on the spire especially for this festive season, began to growl out -preparatory scratching noises, like a big metal monster clearing its -throat. - -Gannett pulled on the wrought brass handles of the closed oaken door. -The door didn't budge. He grabbed the handles in both hands and braced -his feet. He pulled hard. The door was locked. - -"God," he whispered hoarsely. "God, this is me. I gotta get in, God. -God, listen, _I gotta get in_!" - -High above, in the steeple, the loudspeaker was finally ready with a -cheerful little carol. - -"_God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen!_" the voices of a dead choir roared out -upon the silent city. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Not a Creature Was Stirring, by Dean Evans - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NOT A CREATURE WAS STIRRING *** - -***** This file should be named 51396.txt or 51396.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/3/9/51396/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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