Binney started to get up. Then he paused, gripping Susan tightly as a horrible thought came to him. They were high up above the green pavement of the plaza, about two hundred feet. If Binney let go of Susan now, she, too, like Blake, would return to her own world—but a couple of hundred feet above a New York street!
BINNEY shut his eyes at the picture. Susan’s body suddenly materializing between skyscrapers, to plummet down toward the pavement, crashing—ugh!
What had the Professor said some hours ago, over the phone?
“Suppose the accident had happened while you were up, say, in the Empire State? You’d have found yourself in the other world, in empty air over a thousand feet above the ground.”
Now the reverse situation faced Binney. The city of the two-headed beings seemed to be a huge cube, stretching as far as he could see. He was on the roof of it now. If he could return to New York, he would materialize two hundred feet above—well, probably 42nd Street.
Good Lord! If he could only get down to the bottom of that crescentshaped plaza. That was the Holland Tunnel, back on Earth — and the ground level was approximately the same. But there was obviously no way to descend from the endless roof—no stairs or elevators. The winged creatures didn’t need such things.
Binney took a deep breath and squeezed Susan so tightly that she cried out in protest.
“We—we gotta get down!” Binney mumbled, and sent a glance of mingled appeal and horror at the inhuman faces surrounding him. He pointed down and nodded vigorously.
“Urdle nyasta,” said the foremost, but its twin head immediately countered with, “Dree wurn.”
“Orliva,” said another.
But they made no move.
Binney gently shook Susan.
“It’s all right, d-dear,” he whispered. “Open your eyes. We’re s-afe.” The words stuck in his throat.
Susan burrowed her nose deeper in Binney’s shoulder and refused to stir.
“Oh, Joe,” she gasped. “What is it?”
One of the bat-wings reached out an exploratory talon and pulled Susan’s hair. Rather angrily Binney pushed the claw away. Then he went white with terror.
He had almost lost his temper. And that would be fatal. The moment Binney got mad, his adrenal glands would start working. The metamorphosis to another dimension would take place. Binney would find himself, with Susan, high above a busy street with extremely hard pavement....
“Oh, Lord,” Binney prayed, “help me keep my temper!”
Frantically he tried to think of other things. He couldn’t get mad if he were scared to death. So Binney did his best to frighten himself.
That was the best possible procedure to make him courageous. After vainly attempting to convince himself that he was terrified, Binney discovered that he wasn’t. Even the monstrous creatures surrounding him had somewhat lost their air of alien menace. Sure, they were inhuman, but they acted just like a crowd at Coney. Only they didn’t seem to understand—
Binney pointed at himself, at the nearest bat-wing, and then down into the well. Immediately the two-headed creature seized Binney in its talons and spread its wings. He almost lost his grip on Susan before he could recover from his surprise. The girl’s arm slipped through his fingers. Then his hand tightened about her wrist. But he was losing his hold moment by moment.
GROANING, Binney, with his free arm, batted frantically at the talons that held him. The surprised bat-wing settled to the roof, and let go staring with wide eyes.
“You ugly fool!” Binney ground out, drawing Susan’s limp form close “You blasted— No, no. I mustn’t get mad. It—it’s funny. Yeah. That’s what it is. Oh, Lordy!”
Susan had quietly fainted. Binney took the opportunity of removing the girl’s sash and tying one end about his waist, the other about hers. Then, sitting on the roof, he held Susan tightly within the circle of one arm and repeated his gestures downward.
But this time the bat-wings examined him with blank incomprehension. Evidently they’d learned their lesson. They’d tried obeying his gestures before, and it hadn’t worked out.
“Urdle ah dree,” said one. “Dree wurn.”
This gave Binney a new thought. Imitating as well as he was able the strange, thin voice, he piped:
“Urdle ah dree.”
Immediately the bat-wings roused into furious activity. They fluttered and hopped about, in clumsy, bizarre excitement. Queer whistling noises came from the pouting lips.
“Well,” Binney thought, “we’re making friends at least.” Seeking to cap the climax, he squeaked, “Dree wurn.”
Instantly a dead silence fell. The bat-wings settled back into the circle and stood around regarding Binney with blank idiotic looks. They made no move even when the salesman cursed violently and shook his fist at them. Then he remembered.
“No,” Binney moaned. “No temper. No temper!”
He shut his eyes, breathed deeply, and started counting. At thirty he looked again, saw the same blank faces, and bit his lip.
If only the creatures would do something! Why did they just stand there, looking foolish? What did they expect? For what were they waiting? Did they expect Binney to sprout wings and fly away?
“No temper. One, two, three, four.... I’m glad Susan’s unconscious. If she got hysterical and tried to get away from me—”
As though she understood, Susan woke up and began to struggle. Vainly Binney tried to soothe her.
“It’s okay, Susan. Just relax—”
But the girl took a hasty look at the two-headed monsters around her, screamed, and redoubled her efforts to pull free from Binney’s arms. The man felt a tug of irritation.
“Keep quiet!” he snapped, with nervous emphasis. “I can’t—” He stopped quickly.
“No temper. One, two, three ... stop it, Susan ... four, five, six ...”
“Let go of me! Oh!”
“Urdle ah dree?” asked a bat-wing politely.
“Stop it ... seven, eight, nine ...
“Dree wurn.”
“No temper. Ten, eleven—ouch!”
With lamentable lack of restraint, Susan had sunk her small white teeth into Binney’s forearm.
“You little—” Binney was almost lost. Blinking with pain, he stared blindly at Susan’s frightened face and babbled, “I love you. I love you. I love you!”
Thereupon he proceeded to prove it by knocking the girl cold. It was a neat sock, well timed and right to the point of the jaw. It spoke well for Binney’s self-control that he struck in sorrow, not in anger.
Susan wilted. Binney, deeply grieved, drew her limp form once more into the protection of his arm. He glanced up at the interested, extraordinary faces around him, realized helplessly that they didn’t intend to do anything about them, and once more began to count....
THE huge red sun had covered a perceptible part of the crimson sky, and Binney was still counting. But nothing had happened. The two-headed creatures remained, doing absolutely nothing except irritate Binney, who could not afford to lose his temper just yet. If there were only some way of reaching ground level! But, short of wings, that was impossible.
How long could this keep up? They might stay up here for days and starve to death, or he’d get so weak he might lose contact with Susan. Couldn’t the bat-wings understand anything?
“You and your blasted urdle dree,” Binney growled bitterly. “What does it mean, anyhow?”
“Ah nyasta,” said one helpfully.
Time was growing short. Binney found it growing harder and harder to keep his temper. Moreover, Susan would not remain unconscious forever, and he could not keep continually knocking her out. If there was only some way—