I knew that she was right. She had it figured out. If the tree wanted to, it could keep us pinned down for days.
“Dobbin,” I said, “maybe you can tell us what is going on. Why is the tree pegging pods at us?”
“Noble sir,” said Dobbin, “nothing will I tell you. I go with you. I carry your possessions. No further will I do. No information will we give and no help. Most shabbily you have treated us and in my heart I cannot find the reasons for doing further for you.”
Hoot came ambling out of the dark interior of the building, his tentacles waving, the eyes on the end of the two of them shining in the light.
“Mike,” he hooted at me, “a curious feel this place has about it. Of old mysteries. Of much time and strangeness. There be something here, a something that falls minutely short of a someone being.”
“So you think so, too,” I said.
I had another look at Smith. He hadn’t moved a muscle. He still sat bolt upright in the saddle and his face still was frozen with that dreadful happiness. The guy was no longer with us. He was a universe away.
“In many ways,” said Hoot, “there is a comfort in it, but so strange a comfort that one must quail in fear at the concept of it. I speak, you understand, as an observer only. One such as I can take no part in such a comfort. Much better comfort and refuge can I have if I so desire. But it be information I impart most willingly if it be of service.”
“Well,” said Sara, “are you two going to get George down off that hobby or do you plan to leave him there?’
“It looks to me,” I said, “as if it makes no difference to him if he stays up there or not, but let us get him down.”
Tuck and I between us hauled him from the saddle and lugged him across the floor and propped him up against the wall beside the door. He was limp and unresisting and he made no sign to indicate that he was aware of what was going on.
I went over to one of the hobbies and unlashed a pack. Rummaging in it, I found a flashlight.
“Come on, Hoot,” I said. “I’m going to scout around and see if I can find some wood. There must be some old furniture or such.”
Moving back into the building, I saw that it was not as dark as I had thought at first. It was the contrast of the brightness of the sunlight pouring through the door that had made it seem so dark. But neither was it light. An eerie sort of twilight filled the place like smoke and we moved through it as though we moved through fog. With Hoot pattering along beside me, we went deeper into the interior of the building. There wasn’t much to see. The walls were blocked out by the twilight mist. Here and there objects loomed up darkly. Far overhead a glint of light showed here and there, let in by some chink or window. Off to our right flowed a tide of busy little ratlike creatures harvesting the seeds. I shone the light on them and little red, burning eyes glowed fiercely back at us. I snapped off the light. They gave me the creeps.
Something tapped my arm. I glanced down and saw that Hoot was tapping me with a tentacle. He pointed silently with another one. I looked and saw the heap, a mound of blackness, not neat and rounded, but a little ragged, as if a pile of junk had been thrown into a pile.
“Maybe wood,” said Hoot
We walked toward it and it was larger and farther off than we had thought it was, but we finally reached it and I threw a beam of light upon it. There was wood, all right-broken, shattered sticks and chunks of it, as if someone had smashed up a bunch of furniture and heaved it in a pile. But there was more than wood. There was metal, too, some of it rusted and eroded, but some of it still bright. At one time chunks of metal had been fashioned, apparently into tools or instruments, but they had been bent and twisted out of shape. Someone had done a good wrecking job, as good a one upon the metal objects as had been done upon the furniture. And there was, as well, what seemed to be hunks of torn cloth and some strangely shaped chunks of wood with fiber tied about them.
“Much rage,” said Hoot, “expended upon objects of inanimation. Mystery very deep and logic hard to come by.”
I handed him the flashlight and he wrapped a tentacle about it and held it steady so I could see. I knelt and began to pick up wood and load it on one arm, selecting pieces that were campfire length. It was dry and heavy and it should make good fuel and there was a lot of it and we’d not run out of it, no matter how long we might be forced to stay. I picked up one of the strangely shaped pieces with fabric tied about it and, seeing my mistake, was about to throw it to one side when the thought occurred to me that the fiber might serve as, tinder, so left it on the load.
I built myself a good armload and rose slowly to my feet. The wood was loaded in the crook of my left arm and I found that I needed my right hand to keep the load from sliding loose.
“You hang onto the light,” I said to Hoot. “I need all the arms I have.”
He didn’t answer and when I looked down at him, I saw that he was rigid. He had stiffened out like a dog pointing at a bird and two of his tentacres were pointed straight up at the ceiling-if the building had a ceiling.
I glanced up and there was nothing there to see, except that I had the feeling I was looking up onto a great expanse of space, that the space extended, without interruption, from the floor on which I stood up to the very top of all the spires and turrets.
And out of that extent of space came a whisper that grew in volume-the sound of many wings beating frantically and fast, the same harsh whispering that could be heard when a flock of feeding birds burst from a marshy stretch of ground and beat across the sky. But it was no sudden rush of hurried flight that existed for a moment and then was done with. As we stood listening on the floor below, it kept on and on and on. Somewhere up there in the misty darkness that marked the building’s upper structure a great migration seemed to be taking place, with millions of wings beating out of nowhere into nowhere. They-whatever they could have been that had the beating wings-were not merely circling in that space above our heads. They were flying with a steady, almost frantic, purpose, and for a moment of that flight they crossed those few thousand feet of emptiness that loomed above us and then were gone while others took their place, a steady stream of others, so that the rush of wings was never broken. I strained my eyes to see them, but there was nothing to be seen. They were too high to see or they were invisible or, I thought, they might not be even there. But the sound was there, a sound that in some other time or place might not be remarkable, but that here was remarkable and, unaccountably, had the freezing impact of the great unknowable. Then, as suddenly as they had come, the beating wings were gone; the migration ended, and we stood in a silence that was so thick it thundered.
Hoot let down his two pointing tentacles “Here they were not,” he said ‘They were otherwhere”.
Immediately as he said it, I knew he had been feeling the same thing I’d been sensing, but had not really realized. Those wings-the sound of those wings-had not been in that space where we had heard them, but in some other space, and we had only heard them through some strange spatio-temporal echo. I don’t know why I thought that; there was no reason to.
“Let’s get back,” I said to Hoot. “All of us must be hungry. It’s been a long time since we’ve eaten. Or had any sleep. How about you, Hoot? I never thought to ask. Can you eat the stuff we have?”
“I in my second self,” he said. And I recalled what he had said before. In his second self (whatever that might be) he had no need of food.
We went back to the front of the building. The hobbies were standing in a circle, with their heads all pointing inward. The packs had been taken off their backs and were stacked against the wall, close behind the doors. Alongside them sat Smith, still slumped, still happy, still out of the world, like an inflated doll that had been tossed against a wall, and beside him was propped the body of Roscoe, the brainless robot. The two of them were ghastly things to see, sitting there together.