Tomorrow: Science Fiction Mystery Tales by E. C. Tubb

Author:E. C. Tubb [Tubb, E. C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ingram Distribution
Published: 2011-10-21T07:00:00+00:00

Sam grunted as he unlocked the door of the small house he had so far managed to keep from the jaws of his creditors.

Tiredly, he eased himself inside and sighed with relief as he slipped the shoes from his aching feet. Madge called to him from the kitchen where she hummed as she worked with iron and heaps of freshly laundered clothing.

“Sam?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Hungry?”

“No. I ate out.” He relaxed against the worn upholstery. “Where’s Tony?”

“Playing in the garden.” Madge wiped her hands as she came into the living room. “You’re late today.”

“A case.” He didn’t explain or tell her what; and she didn’t ask.

“Coffee?”

“Please.” A mirror hung over the mantelpiece and he stared at his own reflection as he sipped the coffee, grateful for its warm sweetness. Grimly he stared back at himself, a brown-haired, brown-eyed man, no longer young, and yet not old. Lines of worry searing once smooth cheeks, more lines creasing his forehead, the corners of his eyes, accentuating the bitterness of his mouth.

A tired face. A disillusioned face. The face of a man who had seen too much and done too little about it. An ordinary face. The face of a man about to vanish?

Sam sighed and set down his empty cup.

Tony came in then, vibrant and eager with the wonderful health of youth, his voice high and shrill with the tones of childhood.

“Dad!”

“Yes, son?”

“Freddie Blake’s got two new fish, and can I have some more, tomorrow, please?”

“More fish?” Sam forced himself to be patient. “You can only put so many in the tank, you know. If you overcrowd them they’ll die.”

“Gosh, Dad.” Tony ran over to the small aquarium, bright with its lights and tropical fish, standing in the corner of the room. He stared at it, his brown eyes following the languid, lazy motions of the angels and mollies, the swordtails and zebras, the slow and stately snails and the wriggling tuberfix worms. “Dad!”

“Yes, son?”

“Something’s wrong, Dad. Look!”

Reluctantly, Sam heaved himself upright from the chair and joined his son. Together, they stared at the miniature, aqueous world behind the glass. “What is it, Tony?”

“That fish, dad. See?” A little finger touched the glass. “It’s not moving.”

“Perhaps it’s just resting?”

“It was like it this morning, and, it doesn’t seem to have moved all day.” Tony stared worriedly at his father. “Is it dead?”

“I don’t think so.” Sam lifted the lid of the aquarium and picking up a slender planting stick from a shelf, prodded gently at the fish. Startled, it moved with a flurry of fins, its mouth opening and closing as if scolding them for disturbing its rest, then settled down to the gravel bottom.

“It still isn’t moving, Dad, not like the others. Could it be ill?”

“We’ll see tomorrow, Tony.”

“But suppose it’s ill, Dad?”

“Then we’ll have to take it out of the tank.”

“Suppose it died?”

“We’ll have to take it out before it affects the other fish.”

“Shouldn’t we take it out now, Dad? Suppose it died in the night.”

“We’ll leave it for tonight. If it isn’t moving as it should in the morning we’ll take it out then.

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