Jack L. Chalker by And the Devil Will Drag You Under

Author:And the Devil Will Drag You Under [Under, And the Devil Will Drag You]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Published: 2011-02-15T01:12:35.433000+00:00

There were torchlights and kerosene lanterns all about; the place was pretty well lit up in the permanent twilight. It sounded busy, too-the sounds of an active and living town were all around him. And yet there were no people on the street, no animals-although he heard the occasional sound of a horse or dog-nothing. Feeling like a character in an old movie, he headed for the brightly lit saloon from which the sounds of laughter and lots of people milling about emanated. As he approached the swinging double doors, though, he could see nothing but light inside. When he stepped through, all sound stopped, and not because everyone had turned to see a stranger.

There was no one in the hall. No one at all. Card tables had hands dealt and money lay on the tables; cigarettes and cigars smoldered in ashtrays as if put down just a moment before, and half-touched drinks were lining the bar. A roulette wheel was still turning to his left, and he heard it slow and the ball drop into its slot.

Now what the hell? he thought anxiously, looking around.

He walked around the large room looking for someone, anyone. He walked upstairs and checked the rooms-more still-lit smokes and the appearance that people had been there only moments earlier, but not a living thing to be seen.

He walked back down to the deserted bar, confused. Either a deserted or an active town he could have taken, but one in which there was the semblance of life without the living was unnerving indeed.

He returned to the street, and ten steps from the saloon door he heard the sounds of furious yet normal activity resume there. He was tempted to go back but decided not to.

There was a sign saying CAFE across the street, and he went over to it and opened the door. Again there were no people. Yet on the counter were mugs of coffee and other beverages that were still hot, and glasses of cooler stuff still felt cold. Two steaks were sizzling on the open-pit grill; they were not burned to a crisp but cooking rather nicely, as if someone had just flipped them over. Blood and juice still oozed from the fork holes.

A sudden whistle startled him. He whirled and drew his gun, but saw that the noise came from a tea-pot that had just reached the boiling point.

Wait a minute, he told himself nervously. Just reached the boiling point?

He heard some noise coming from a back room, like water being pumped, and rushed to it. It stopped just as he pushed through the door. There was a well pump there, and it was still dripping with the runoff into a bucket hung on the spout that was now half full. There were no exits from the back room except a small window that obviously hadn't been opened in a long time.

He walked back into the cafe, shaking his head and trying to get a grip on himself when he stopped short.

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