XI
There was darkness, then bright sun. They stood on a street corner, and Summersby could read the signs as plainly as Watkins must have read them in the focusing lens of the matter transmitter on the unknown planet.
Broadway and 42nd Street. The five of them had clicked into being on the busiest corner of New York.
"That old crook," said Adam, gulping. "He focused us here for a gag."
"I look awful," gasped Mrs. Full, and Summersby, glancing at her, agreed. Like all of them, she had lost weight; her skin showed the effects of a week's washing without soap; and her skirt and blouse were mussed up, to say the least. All the men needed shaves. Calvin Full, recovering gradually from the shock of the goad, and still supported by Villa, looked like a Bowery wino.
"Is he coming?" asked Adam, addressing Summersby. "Will Watkins be along too?"
"I don't know," said Summersby. He stared up at as much of the sky as he could see beyond the block-high ads. "I hope so."
"My chili stand!" shouted Villa, suddenly awakening to the fact of New York about him. "That no-good relief man! I've got to see what he's done to it!" Pushing Calvin to Adam, who grasped him by an arm, the Mexican waved hurriedly. "Come and see me," he said to all of them. "I'll give you a bowl free." He hastened away into the crowd.
"We've got to see about our clothes at the hotel," said Mrs. Full. She sounded apologetic. "I hope we'll see you again, Adam, and Mr. Summersby."
"I doubt it," said Summersby. He looked at Full. "Coming out of it?" he asked.
"Thanks," said Cal, nodding. He took his wife's hand. "Gave you my address, didn't I?"
"I have it," said Summersby.
"Well, good-bye," said Mrs. Full.
"You did a fine job up there," said Adam Pierce. "I'm proud to have known you, ma'am."
"Thank you, Adam. Good-bye." They were gone.
"I suppose you'll be going too," said Adam, somewhat wistfully.
"I guess so. You'll go home?"
"I guess so," Adam repeated. "My folks will be sore. They'll never believe such a story. They'll think I ran wild or something."
Summersby, still looking upward, and wondering if he could be staring blindly at the planet which Watkins must be trying to leave even now, put a hand on his heart. "Was he right? They did fix up everyone else." He laughed. It was the first time he had laughed normally in seven months. "I could get into the rangers again," he said. "Adam, I've got to see a doctor. I've got to find out something."
"Yes, sir," said Adam unhappily. Summersby looked at him. "Really worried about your folks?"
"Yes, sir."
"I'll come home and tell them, if you like."
Adam said gratefully, "Mr. Summersby, you're a gentleman."
"No," said Summersby, "no."
"Yes, sir, you are. Can we wait just a minute more? Mr. Watkins might be along any minute now."
"We'll wait."
After a while Adam said, "Remember that first feed we got up there, pies and cookies and glass?"
"I remember it."
"They must have just aimed that machine at a bakery window here on Earth, and taken glass and all."
"That's it."
"Probably it was called a smash-and-grab robbery, down here." He kicked something, bent down and picked it up. It was the safe-cracker's gun. "I didn't think he'd carry one," said the boy. He looked closer at it. "God!"
"What is it?" Summersby shifted the briefcase and held out a hand. Adam laid the weapon in his big palm. "He must have won it at the park that day," Adam said. "That old crook! Old faker!"
Summersby held it up. It looked like a small automatic of blued steel, but it was plastic. He turned it over. A pencil-sharpener.
Summersby grunted. "A toy," he said, giving it back to Adam. "Nothing but a kid's toy."
