Out of nowhere

by E. A. Grosser

"A clean sweep," said the leader. "And not only of our group, but of every one in the country. The prisons are full, overcrowded. We know that nearly every man of our group was captured, and the others report the same for their groups. The Organization is through."

"They must have got lists of members," Barlow mumbled.

"How could they?" the leader demanded. "Nothing like that exists. We never kept any records. No! It was spies. They may even have got into the organization. Laurine tells me of something strange that made her return to headquarters to get help for you. What was it?"

Laurine had ceased her weeping, but she still clung to him. And Barlow felt an inner happiness for her closeness. He held her in his arms while he told the leader all that had happened to him. When he was through he expected them to feel as he did, that the disaster had struck them at the very moment when success seemed within their grasp. But instead they were staring at him pityingly.

"What's the matter?" he asked hesitantly.

Laurine lifted her head from his chest and freed herself of his arms. In her eyes too, there was pity. But there was also anger.

"You fool!" she cried. "That must have been the spy."

Barlow was stricken dumb for a minute. Then he shook his doubts from his mind. "No! Valnar wanted to help us."

The leader pressed his shoulder with a smile, "No, son," he said, shaking his head slowly. "He must have been a spy. That story of time-traveling—" He left the sentence uncompleted and the incompleteness only showed more starkly the absurdity of Valnar's tale.

Barlow felt the strength flow from his body. He felt old, tired. All that they had fought for was gone. This was the world's last chance at freedom. All the Unamenables were gathered together for death and there would be no more differences of opinion. The only opinions in the Americas would be those of Director Dodson. And soon his will would be the only power in the world. In his mind's eye he seemed to see man marching through time in a long hopeless column, never progressing, always regressing, without the yeast of the fighting minority. He turned away from those eyes of his companions, those eyes that told him that he had had the chance to avenge this betrayal and had failed.