Everything! His thoughts turned cold. Somewhere, somehow, something was terribly wrong. His head ached. He clenched his hands, and listened again. For a full minute, there was no voice. Tony could envision them walking along, Masters and Overland in front, Braker and Yates behind, making their slow way to the cave, Overland dreading what he was to find there.
Then: “Hurry it up, professor. Should be right around here.”
Overland whispered, throatily, “There it is, Braker. My God!” He sounded as if he were going all to pieces.
“The skeleton!” Yates blurted out, burrs in his voice. ‘Ye gods, professor, d’you suppose—Why sure — they just weren’t snapped back.”
Shaking, pasty white of face, Tony clawed his way halfway up the boulder. He hung there, just able to look outside. The whole floor of the cave was visible. And the skeleton lay there, gleaming white, and the ring shone on its tapering finger!
Laurette.
He lifted his head, conscious that his eyes were smarting painfully. Through a blur, he saw Braker, Yates, Masters and Overland, standing about thirty feet distant from the cave, silent, speechless, staring at the skeleton.
Braker said, his voice unsteady, “It’s damned strange, isn’t it? We knew it was going to be there, and there it is, and it robs you of your breath.”
Yates cleared his throat, and said firmly, “Yeah, but who is it? Crow or the girl?”
Overland took a step forward, his weak eyes straining.
“It’s not a very long skeleton, is it?” he whispered.
Braker said, harshly, “Now don’t try talking yourself into anything, professor. You can’t see the skeleton well enough from here to tell who it is. Masters, stop shaking.” His words were implicit with scorn. “Move over there and don’t try any funny stuff like you did on the ship a while ago. I should have blasted you then. I’m going to take a look at that skeleton.”
He went forward sideways, hand on his right hip where the Hampton was holstered.
He came up to the mouth of the cave, stood looking down on the skeleton, frowning. Then he knelt. Tony could see his face working with revulsion, but still he knelt there, as if fascinated.
Tony’s lips stretched back from his teeth. Here’s where Braker got his! He worked his way up to the top of the boulder, tensed, slid over to the other side on his feet. He took one step forward and bent his knees.
Braker raised his head.
His face contorted into a sudden mask of horror.
“You!” he screamed. His eyes bulged.
Tony leaped.
Braker fell backward, face deathly pale, clawing at the Hampton. Tony was on top of him before he could use it. He pinned Braker down, going for the Hampton with hands, feet, and blistering curses. His helmet was a sudden madhouse of consternated voices. Overland, Masters, and Yates swept across his vision. And Yates was coming forward.
He caught hold of the weapon, strained at it mightily, the muscles of his stomach going rigid under the exertion.
Braker kicked at Tony’s midriff with heavy boots, striving to puncture the pressure suit. Tony was forced over on his back, saw Braker’s sweating face grinning mirthlessly into his.
Stars were suddenly occluded by Yates’ body. The man fell to his knees, pinned Tony down, and with Braker’s help broke Tony’s hold on the Hampton.
“Give it to me!” That was Masters’ voice, blasting out shrilly. By sheer surprise, he wrenched the weapon from Yates. Tony flung himself to his feet as the outlaw hurled himself at Masters with a snarl, made a grab for Yates’ foot. Yates tried to shake him off, hopped futilely, then stumbled forward, falling. But he struck against Masters. Masters’ hold on the weapon was weak. It went sailing away in an arc, fell at the mouth of the cave.
“Get it!” Braker’s voice blasted out as he struggled to his feet. Masters was ahead of him. Wildly, he thrust Braker aside. Yates reached out, tripped Masters. Braker went forward toward the Hampton, and then stopped, stock-still.
A figure stepped from the cave, picked up the weapon, and said, in cold, unmistakable tones, “Up with them. You, Braker. Yates!”
Braker’s breath released in a long shuddering sigh, and he dropped weakly, helplessly to his knees.
His voice was horrible. “I’m crazy,” he said simply, and continued to kneel there and continued to look up at the figure as if it were a dead figure come to life at which he stared.
The blood drummed upward in Tony’s temples, until it was a wild, crazy, diapason. His shuddering hands raised to clasp his helmet.
Then:
“Laurette,” he whispered brokenly. “Laurette!”
There were six human beings here.
And one skeleton on the floor of the cave.
How long that tableau held, Tony had no way of knowing. Professor Overland, standing off to Tony’s left, arms half raised, a tortured, uncomprehending look on his face. Masters, full length on his stomach, pushing at the ground with his clawed hands to raise his head upward. Yates, in nearly the same position, turned to stone. Braker, his breath beginning to sound out in little, bottled-up rasps.
And the girl, Laurette, she who should have been the skeleton, standing there at the mouth of the cave, her face indescribably pale, as she centered the Hampton on Braker and Yates.
Her voice edged into the aching silence.
“It’s Amos,” she said. She was silent, looking at her father’s haggard face, smiling twistedly.
“Amos,” said Overland hoarsely, saying nothing else, but in that one word showing his utter, dismaying comprehension. He stumbled forward three steps. “We thought—We thought—” He seemed unable to go on. Tears sounded in his voice. He said humbly, “We thought you were the—But no. It’s Amos!” His voice went upward hysterically.
“Stop it!” Laurette’s voice lashed out. She added softly, tenderly, “No, I’m not the skeleton. Far from it, Daddy. Amos is the skeleton. He was the skeleton all along. I didn’t realize it might be that way until the ship lifted. Then it seemed that the ship was going to fall and I thought my hundred and five might help after all and anyway, I decided that the lieutenant was all alone down there. And that somehow made me think of the time all the Christmas packages tumbled down on him and how I slapped him.” She laughed unsteadily. “That made me remember that the university sent your present with a ‘Do Not Open Before Christmas’ sticker on it. I remembered you were leaving the university and they were giving you a combination farewell gift and Christmas present. You didn’t know, but I did, that the professors decided you couldn’t possibly be back before Christmas and so they sent it to the ship. You had always told them you admired — Amos. He hung on the biology classroom wall. It seemed I suddenly knew how things had to be. I put two and two together and I took a chance on it.”
She fell silent, and the silence held for another full, shocking minute. She went on, as if with an effort.
“We threw everything out of the ship, remember? The Christmas presents, too. When I dropped from the ship later, I reached the plain and I broke open the carton with the ‘Do Not Open’ sticker on it, and there was Amos, as peaceful as you please. I put the ring on his finger and left him there, because I knew that some way the wind or crack-up or something would drop him in the cave. He had to turn up in the cave.