CHAPTER 7

Bowdler's smile was as warm as ever, and his face was just as alive as it had been before Comstock saw it glaze in death. He said, "Take it easy, kids. I'm alive. Really I am."

Then all three, Grundy, Helen and Comstock spoke at once, their words garbled, their tones excited. Bowdler held up one meaty hand and said, "Hold everything. The R.A. lied when he said that his stun-gun was set to kill. That's all there is to it. I came to shortly after you both got away."

Grundy and Helen were at Bowdler's side, Grundy pump-handling his friend's hand, Helen hugging him with relief. But Comstock stood off to one side and considered this miraculous return from death. Why, he wondered almost coldly, had the R.A. lied? What function would it serve? Had it served?

Bowdler must have felt Comstock's thoughts for he turned and said, "There was a reason, Comstock. Truly there was, and a good one."

The seriousness in Bowdler's tone made Helen and Grundy draw back a little. Then they retreated in sudden panic at his next words, for Bowdler said, "You see, my friends, I ordered the R.A. to lie to you."

Perhaps because Grundy had been a friend of Bowdler's longer or perhaps because Comstock had been pushed as far as a man can be pushed, for whatever reason, or combination of reasons, Comstock suddenly found himself for the first time in all his wild adventure taking the initiative. He snapped, "No one can give an R.A. an order but a Father!"

Bowdler smiled, "That's right, Comstock. Good work, boy. You _have_ come a long way."

It was Grundy who gasped, "Then you are a Father?"

Nodding, Bowdler said, "Yes."

Before they could question Bowdler any further, he suddenly put his finger to his lips in the immemorial gesture for silence. Then he pointed at the closed door behind which the Board of Fathers were sitting in solemn conclave. Bowdler whispered, "We've only got a split second before you are called up before them."

"What can we say, what can we do?" Grundy pleaded.

"I thought," Bowdler said, his brow furrowed with worry, "that I'd be in a position to fight for you all by this time. But my plan didn't work out. They're furious at your effrontery. I'm afraid if you go before them now they'll sentence you to death."

Comstock looked around him wildly. Life had become much more sweet to him in the last few days and he didn't intend to give it up without a battle.

Bowdler said, "If I could only spirit you all away to safety...."

That was when the door opened. A uniformed emissary of the Fathers, his regalia frightening in its black severity, came through the doorway. He was to the left of Comstock.

He barked, "Follow me." Then, sure in the arrogance of power, he turned his back on Comstock and the others and began to walk back towards the door. It was obvious that the thought that they might not follow him had not even crossed his mind.

Grundy made a signalling motion to Comstock, a chopping gesture with the side of his hand that puzzled Comstock mightily. Seeing that Comstock was baffled, Grundy brought the edge of his hand down in the same chopping motion on Helen's neck. Then he pointed at the black garbed man who was leading the way into ... death....

Once the idea penetrated Comstock's considerably bemuddled mind he sprang into action as though he had been trained in violence all his life. Leaping closer to the emissary he whacked the edge of his hand down on the nape of the man's neck.

As he did so, Grundy and Bowdler ran to join him. They caught the man before he hit the ground. Comstock stood stock still, and looked at his hand in some wonder. The idea! His hand had struck down a member of the inner circle of the Fathers' Right Arms! Incredible!

As though the whole thing had long ago been rehearsed in its entirety, Helen pushed the door closed, hiding completely what had just happened.

All the while that Comstock stood and gloried in his own daring, the others were busy ripping the uniform from the unconscious man's body.

Bowdler was grunting from the effort, his big beefy face almost vermillion with strain. He had yanked off the guard's trousers and was now holding them up in front of Grundy, as if estimating how they would fit.

"Nope." He grunted, and then threw the pants to Comstock. "They'd never fit Grundy. You'll have to wear the uniform."

Still bemused, for otherwise the very thought of doing what he was, would have made him faint, Comstock stripped off his own trousers, in front of Helen! and put on the guard's. While he was busy dressing, Bowdler said, "The only thing I can see to do, is for you to try to escape from here, with Comstock masquerading as an R.A. Meanwhile, I'll join the Fathers and see if I can distract them long enough to let you three get away."

"But where will we go?" Helen asked, "They've found out about me, and my house."

"I know, I know," Bowdler grunted impatiently. "Let me think."

By that time Grundy had helped Comstock into the form fitting black jacket. The final touch was the menacing slouch hat that went with the uniform.

Comstock drew himself up proudly. This was living! Of course, he thought, and the idea made him deflate his chest rapidly; if they were caught now, their deaths would be even more unpleasant.... But he patted the evil little stun-gun at his hip, and tried to feel very, very brave.

The man on the floor, looking highly undignified in his long underwear, and not at all menacing, stirred uneasily, and moaned. Bowdler bent down and rapped him on the point of his chin, and the man relaxed into deep unconsciousness again.

Not willing to be put off any longer, Comstock asked, "Bowdler, since you're a Father, why are you doing what you're doing?"

"No time for that, boy, no time at all."

Grundy added his curiosity, "But we must know, Bowdler, we can't keep up this insane hare and hounds chase unless we know what's going on!"

* * * * *

Bowdler pushed Grundy and Helen towards Comstock and snapped, "Later, later. For now, all I can say is that I am fed up with the unfairness of the way our world is being run. I went out into your world to try and find rebels to use as the nucleus for a revolution. But there's no time now for any further explanations. Listen to me carefully. The guards at the front entrance would recognize you, Comstock, even in that uniform, so you must escape by the back exit. To get to it, turn right when you leave here, go to the end of the long hall, and then turn left, follow that passage to its end and then turn right. That'll lead you to the garage. Commandeer a car and go to 14 Anthony Comstock Road. I'll join you as soon as I safely can."

"Right, left, right," Grundy said. "Okay, Bowdler. I hope you can join us soon!"

"Before you go," Bowdler said, "Sock me on the jaw."

Grundy asked, "Hit you? Why should I?"

"Do as he says," Helen said impatiently. "He has to have an alibi for our escape."

Closing his eyes, Grundy lashed out suddenly. His fist missed Bowdler's chin and landed high on his cheek near Bowdler's eye. He snorted in annoyance, but said, "All right, all right, that'll have to do. Now run!"

Throwing himself on the thickly carpeted floor he imitated the truly unconscious man who was slumped there.

Lifting his head he said, "Beat it! Go on ... hurry!"

They left.

* * * * *

Comstock chanted to himself over and over again as they walked down the long impressive marble corridor, right, left, right. What was behind the doors they passed? Would he ever know? Each one seemed more menacing than the one before it. And somehow, high above him, Comstock could feel the brooding majesty of The Grandfather. Surely here in the buildings that were sacred to Him, The Grandfather must know what they were doing. His knees shook and his stomach turned over as he thought of the effrontery of what they were doing.

If one of the doors that lined the corridor had so much as squeaked, Comstock thought, he would die. He knew it. He knew his weak heart would not be able to stand the strain and that was all there was to it.

The silence that surrounded them was harrowing.

Grundy, his arm around Helen protectively, kept his eyes busy searching, hoping against hope that no one would see them, question them ... or suspect them.

Comstock's palm and fingers were sweaty with the agony of the grip he had on the butt of the stun-gun.

Ahead of them was the end of the corridor and no one had seen them.

Taking an even deeper breath, Comstock strode to the left. The other two followed in his footsteps. This corridor was shorter, he was grateful to see, and the one that went off to the right at the end of it seemed lighter. At least it did not seem quite as dark and gloomy as the way they had come.

And then they had come to the end of the last hallway and ahead was the door that Bowdler said led to escape. But the highest hurdle, Comstock thought, was still ahead. They had to steal an auto from a garage. He had learned that the astrobatless-carriage that had conveyed them there was called an auto, but what in the world was a garage?

He hoped it wasn't some new horror.

All three of them froze. The door that led outdoors was opening.

Grundy had to nudge Comstock in the ribs to make him move. For the sight of a platoon of black-garbed R.A.'s stretching off into the middle distance that was revealed when the door opened had been enough to end any and all thoughts of resistance on the part of Comstock.

The leader of the R.A.'s snapped a salute at Comstock which he answered only when Grundy's elbow dug deeply into his rib cage. The R.A. Leader said, "Reporting to The Fathers!"

Comstock made a gesture that he hoped would look as if he was giving the Leader permission. It was obvious from the way the man was behaving that he thought Comstock outranked him. And as Comstock, Grundy and the girl passed the platoon, it occurred to Comstock that any R.A. who was employed at this fountainhead would of necessity outrank any others.

The platoon stood at frozen-faced, stiff-backed attention as the trio left the back door and walked across the greensward toward a building that Grundy whispered to Comstock must be the garage.

When they were out of earshot of the platoon, Comstock sneaked a look back over his shoulder. The black-garbed men, like automatons, were marching into the building.

Grundy said, "Okay, so we've found the garage, but how are we going to drive the car? That's the next big question."

Comstock was too relieved, first by the fact that they had escaped the R.A.'s and second by the fact that the garage had turned out to be just a building, to take on any new worry for a while.

Smiling a little, Helen said, "Hold on, Bowdler said we were to take a car, therefore, it must be easy to drive one; or else we'll have to force an R.A. to drive it for us."

"I suppose you're right," Grundy said, but he sounded dubious.

"If we make an R.A. drive it for us, that'll mean we're stuck with him," Comstock said. "I don't think we want one of them around, do we?" Then he saw a black uniform and he snapped, "Quiet!"

The man saluted as, Grundy in the lead, Helen following him, and Comstock bringing up the rear, they entered the "garage". Comstock said, "I have been ordered by the Fathers to take these prisoners on a journey."

The black uniform was dirty and greasy which surprised Comstock. He'd never before seen an R.A. who was not spotless. However, when he saw what the man had been working on he was no longer surprised. The man waved a filthy hand at an object on four wheels and said, "Try this one. I'm having a lot of trouble with these blasted things." He shook his head. "If we only had some new parts. I don't know how much longer I can keep stealing parts from one car and putting them in another."

Comstock had to make a decision. His hand still on his stun-gun, he said to Grundy, "Get behind that wheel, and let's get started."

Slightly taken aback, Grundy gulped and then said, "Yes sir. Right away, sir."

There was no other way that Comstock could see that it could be done. An R.A. would not have driven the car and allowed the two prisoners to sit idly in the back of the conveyance.

The dirty uniformed man, mumbling under his breath, got down on all fours and began to tinker with the underneath part of the "car" he had been working on when they entered the "garage".

That was a bit of luck for it allowed Grundy to enter the "car," get behind the wheel and examine the various controls. Comstock and Helen sat grandly in the back seat and waited.

Finally, after a long wait, Comstock leaned forward and whispered to Grundy, "Better get started before he gets suspicious."

He was a little shocked at the curses that Grundy directed at him. They ended by the man saying, "All right, genius, you tell me what to do!"

The dirty man's legs were all that showed from the place where he was working. Comstock leaned over Grundy's shoulders and said, "What about that key? It seems to be part of the works."

Shrugging, Grundy turned the key. There were a lot of things sticking up out of the floor and Comstock said, "They look like feet would fit on them, don't they?"

Sticking out one foot experimentally, Grundy said, "Hmmm ... yes, they do."

Then there was a series of explosions, and a sudden jolting start that threw Comstock into Helen's lap.

* * * * *

Later, when they had learned a bit about driving, they were all very grateful that the "car" had been pointed at the opening in the door when it started, for they knew that they would never have been able to figure out how to reverse it.

Their vehicle bucked and bounced as it roared out through the doorway. It was only after the first thirty seconds of movement that Grundy remembered that the other driver had held his hands on the wheel.

Trying this, he found that the car responded to his touch. Rather delighted, he turned the wheel sharply. Instantly Comstock was thrown off Helen's lap onto the floor of the "car". She landed on top of him driving the breath out of his lungs in a gasp that he momentarily feared was so noisy that The Grandfather, perched high in his tower, would hear.

But the sound of the explosions in the front of the car drowned out all other noises.

Careening down the esplanade away from the frightening buildings, away from the Fathers and The Grandfather, Comstock finally managed to push Helen off of him and get back into the seat. She was grinning excitedly and he found that he too shared in the feeling. In the front seat Grundy called back, "Hey, this is kind of fun!"

It stopped being fun when it became necessary to turn a corner. This was a difficult maneuver and when it was over, Helen and Comstock were again entwined in a manner that was highly indecent. Now that the buildings they had escaped from were receding into the distance, Comstock found that he was rather enjoying the feel of Helen's soft flesh.

It made him blush and his heart must have suffered from the strain, but nevertheless he did, he told himself, enjoy being near her. What a ghastly perversion! To find youth exciting! What would his dear Father have thought?

But then he decided not to worry too much about Father. One thought was uppermost in his mind. He wanted a girl just like Helen. If one could be found.

Grundy yelled above the sound the vehicle was making. "We're almost there. What number house did Bowdler say?"

"Fourteen, I think," Comstock said and he was glad to have a break in the direction that his thoughts were taking.

Next to him, Helen pursed her full lips and whistled. She said, "Take a look!"

The house well repaid a look. It was the closest that Comstock had ever been to a home that belonged to one of the Fathers. Immense, sprawling, with a lawn that was as carefully tended as time and work could make it, crisp bushes, trimmed and shaped, the house was a gem. It was on the side of a hill that sloped steeply downwards.

They drew up in front of it and a new problem arose. Grundy yelled, "Better jump. I don't know how to stop this thing!"

* * * * *

One after the other they leaped from the "car" which, since Grundy did not know how to shift the gears, was still in first and was making all of fifteen miles an hour.

Rolling over and over, hands and knees badly scraped, Comstock thought, "There must be a better way than that to get out of a car". But then, as the vehicle sped faster and faster down the decline of the hill, he said, "Grundy.... Helen.... Did you notice anything odd on the way here?"

They were picking themselves up and Grundy was being, Comstock thought, a little too solicitous about Helen and whether she was hurt, so he repeated himself a little more loudly.

"Odd?" Grundy finally said after he had patted Helen in various places, in none of which it seemed to Comstock, it had been likely for the girl to have injured herself, "What do you mean?"

"Don't you realize we didn't pass a single human being all the way here?"

"You're right," Helen said. "That _is_ peculiar!"

Grundy looked about them. There was no one in sight. No one at all. That was not too peculiar, not here, not this near a Father's house, but the other streets should have been full of people.... It was all very strange.

Down at the bottom of the hill the driverless "car" crashed into a tree. It was the only sound but for their breathing. Helen shivered.

Comstock said, "Let's get in the house. Quickly."

It was one thing, Comstock thought, to have been in a room that belonged to a Gantry, as they had been, but it was a completely different and much more frightening thing to be walking up the path to a house that belonged to a Father, even one like this that belonged to Bowdler who certainly had seemed to be friendly.

They were on the steps of a broad pleasant verandah now, and the entrance to the house was directly in front of them. The door was white, and had neatly lettered on it, "Enter."

Comstock grabbed Helen's free hand, her other was in the fold of Grundy's arm. Then all of them moved slowly towards the door.

It opened before Comstock could put his hand on the knob.

It swung wide enough for them to see that no one had opened it for them.

From inside the house, a heavy metallic voice said, "Welcome may you be."