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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Know Thy Neighbor, by Elisabeth R. Lewis
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Know Thy Neighbor
+
+Author: Elisabeth R. Lewis
+
+Illustrator: Tom Beecham
+
+Release Date: May 7, 2010 [EBook #32287]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KNOW THY NEIGHBOR ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                         Know Thy Neighbor
+
+                       By ELISABETH R. LEWIS
+
+                     Illustrated by Tom Beecham
+
+[Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction
+February 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the
+U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
+
+[Sidenote: _The terrors that inhabit the night may be even more awful in
+deceitful broad daylight!_]
+
+[Illustration]
+
+It began with the dead cat on the fire escape and ended with the green
+monster in the incinerator chute, but still, it wouldn't be quite fair
+to blame it all on the neighborhood....
+
+The apartment house was in the heart of the district that is known as
+"The Tenderloin"--that section of San Francisco from Ellis to Market and
+east from Leavenworth to Mason Street. Not the best section.
+
+To Ellen's mind, it was an unsavory neighborhood, but with apartments so
+hard to get and this one only $38.00 a month and in a regular apartment
+building with an elevator and all--well, as she often told the girls at
+the office, you can't be too particular these days.
+
+Nevertheless, it was an ordeal to walk up the two blocks from Market
+Street, particularly at night when the noise of juke boxes dinned from
+the garish bars, when the sidewalks spilled over with soldiers and
+sailors, with peroxided, blowsy-looking women and the furtive gamblers
+who haunted the back rooms of the innocent-appearing cigar stores that
+lined the street. She walked very fast then, never looking to left or
+right, and her heart would pound when a passing male whistled.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+But once inside the apartment house lobby, she relaxed. In spite of its
+location, the place seemed very respectable. She seldom met anyone in
+the lobby or the elevator and, except on rare occasions like last night,
+the halls were as silent as those in the swanky apartment houses on Nob
+Hill.
+
+She knew by sight only two of her neighbors--the short, stocky young man
+who lived in 410, and Mrs. Moffatt, in 404. Mrs. Moffatt was the essence
+of lavender and old lace, and the young man--he was all right, really;
+you couldn't honestly say he was shady-looking.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On this particular morning, the man from 410 was waiting for the
+elevator when Ellen came out to get her paper. He glanced up at the
+sound of the door and stared. Quickly, she shut the door again. She
+didn't like the way he looked at her. She was wearing a housecoat over
+her nightgown, and a scarf wrapped around her head to cover the
+bobbypins--a costume as unrevealing as a nun's--but she felt as though
+he had invaded her privacy with his stare, like surprising her in the
+bathtub.
+
+She waited until she heard the elevator start down before opening her
+door again. The boy must have aimed from the stairs; her paper was
+several yards down the hall, almost in front of 404. She went down to
+get it.
+
+Mrs. Moffatt must have heard Ellen's footsteps in the hall. An old lady
+with a small income (from her late husband, as she had explained to
+Ellen) and little to do, she was intensely interested in her neighbors.
+She opened the door of her apartment and peered out. Her thin white hair
+was done up in tight kid curlers. With her round faded-blue eyes and
+round wrinkled-apple cheeks, she looked like an inquisitive aged baby.
+
+"Good morning," said Ellen pleasantly.
+
+"Good morning, my dear," the old lady answered. "You're up early for a
+Saturday."
+
+"Well, I thought I might as well get up and start my house-cleaning. I
+didn't sleep a wink after four o'clock this morning anyway. Did you hear
+all that racket in the hall?"
+
+"Why, no, I didn't." The old lady sounded disappointed. "I don't see how
+I missed it. I guess because I went to bed so late. My nephews--you've
+seen them, haven't you?--They're such nice boys. They took me to a movie
+last night."
+
+"Well, I'm surprised you didn't hear it," said Ellen. "Thumping and
+scratching, like somebody was dragging a rake along the floor. I just
+couldn't get back to sleep."
+
+The old lady clicked her tongue. "I'll bet somebody came home drunk.
+Isn't that terrible? I wonder who it was."
+
+"I don't know," said Ellen, "but it was certainly a disgrace. I was
+going to call Mrs. Anderson."
+
+With the door open, the hall seemed filled with the very odd odor of
+Mrs. Moffatt's apartment--not really unpleasant, but musty, with the
+smell of antiques. The apartment itself was like a museum. Ellen had
+been inside once when the old lady invited her in for a cup of tea. Its
+two rooms were crammed with a bizarre assortment of furniture,
+bric-a-brac and souvenirs.
+
+"Oh, how's your bird this morning?" Ellen asked.
+
+In addition to being a collector, Mrs. Moffatt was an animal fancier.
+She owned three cats, a pair of love-birds, goldfish, and even a cage of
+white mice. One of the love-birds, she had informed Ellen yesterday, was
+ailing.
+
+"Oh, Buzzy's much better today," she beamed. "The doctor told me to feed
+him whisky every three hours--with an eyedropper, you know--and you'd be
+surprised how it helped the little fellow. He even ate some bird-seed
+this morning."
+
+"I'm so glad," said Ellen. She picked up her paper and smiled at Mrs.
+Moffatt. "I'll see you later."
+
+The old woman closed her door, shutting off the musty smell, and Ellen
+walked back to her own apartment. She filled the coffee pot with water
+and four tablespoons of coffee, then dressed herself while the coffee
+percolated. Standing in front of the medicine cabinet mirror, she took
+the bobbypins out of her hair. Her reflection looked back at her from
+the mirror, and she felt that unaccountable depression again. I'm not
+bad-looking, she thought, and young, and not too dumb. What have other
+women got that I haven't? She thought of the days and years passing, the
+meals all alone, and nothing ever happening.
+
+That kind of thinking gets you nowhere; forget it. She combed her hair
+back, pinned it securely behind her ears, ran a lipstick over her mouth.
+Then she went into the kitchenette, turned off the gas flame under the
+coffee pot, and raised the window shade to let in the sun that was just
+beginning to show through morning fog.
+
+A dead cat lay on the fire escape under the window.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+She stared at it, feeling sick to her stomach. It was an ordinary gray
+cat, the kind you see in every alley, but its head was twisted back so
+that its open eyes and open mouth leered at her.
+
+She pulled the blind down, fast.
+
+Sit down, light a cigarette. It's nothing, just a dead cat, that's all.
+But how did it get on the fire escape? Fell, maybe, from the roof? And
+how did it get on the roof? Besides, I thought cats never got hurt
+falling. Isn't there something about landing on your feet like a cat?
+Maybe that's just a legend, like the nonsense about nine lives.
+
+Well, what do I do, she thought. I can't sit here and drink coffee with
+_that_ under the window. And God knows I can't take it away myself. She
+shuddered at the thought. Call the manager.
+
+She got up and went to the telephone in the foyer. She found the number
+scribbled on the back of the phone book. Her hand was shaking when she
+dialed.
+
+"This is Ellen Tighe in 402. Mrs. Anderson, there's a dead cat on the
+fire escape outside my window. You'll have to do something about it."
+
+Mrs. Anderson sounded half-asleep. "What do you mean, a dead cat? Are
+you sure it's dead? Maybe it's sleeping."
+
+"Of course I'm sure it's dead! Can't you send Pete up to take it away?
+It's a horrible thing to have under my window."
+
+"All right, I'll tell Pete to go up. He's washing down the lobby now. As
+soon as he's finished, I'll send him up."
+
+Ellen set the phone back on its stand. She felt a little silly. What a
+fuss to make over a dead cat. But really, outside one's window--and
+before breakfast--who could blame me?
+
+She went back into the kitchenette, carefully not looking toward the
+window, even though the shade was drawn, and poured herself a cup of
+coffee. Then she sat at the table in the little nook, drinking coffee,
+smoking a cigarette and leafing through the paper.
+
+The front page was all about a flying saucer scare in Marin County. She
+read the headline, then thumbed on through the paper, stopping to read
+the movie reviews and the comic page.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At the back section, she was attracted by a headline that read: "Liquor
+Strong These Days--Customer Turns Green, Says Bartender." It was a brief
+item, consciously cute. "John Martin, 38, a bartender of 152 Mason
+Street, was arrested early this morning, charged with drunkenness and
+disturbing the peace, after firing several shots from a .38 revolver on
+the sidewalk in front of his address. No one was injured. Martin's
+defense, according to police records, was that he was attempting to
+apprehend a 'pale-green, claw-handed' customer who fled after eating a
+live mouse and threatening Martin.
+
+"Upon questioning, Martin admitted that the unidentified customer had
+been in the bar for several hours and appeared perfectly normal. But he
+insisted, 'When I refused to serve him after he ate the mouse, he turned
+green and threatened to claw me to death.' Martin has a permit to carry
+the gun and was dismissed with a fifty dollar fine and a warning by
+Judge Greely against sampling his own stock too freely."
+
+Drunken fool, thought Ellen. With fresh indignation, she remembered the
+disturbance in her own hall this morning. Nothing but drunks and
+gangsters in this neighborhood. She thought vaguely of looking at the
+"For Rent" section of the want ads.
+
+There was a noise on the fire escape. Ellen reached over and lifted up
+the shade. The janitor was standing there with a big paper sack in his
+hand.
+
+Ellen opened the window and asked, "How do you think it got there,
+Pete?"
+
+"I dunno. Maybe fall offa the roof. Musta been in a fight."
+
+"What makes you think so?"
+
+"Neck's all torn. Big teeth marks. Maybe dog get him."
+
+"Up here?"
+
+"Somebody find, maybe throw here--I dunno." Pete scratched his head.
+"You don't worry any more, though. I take away now. No smell, even."
+
+He grinned at her and scuttled to the other end of the fire escape where
+he climbed through the window to the fourth floor corridor.
+
+Ellen poured herself a second cup of coffee and lighted another
+cigarette, then turned to the woman's page in the paper. She read the
+Advice Column and the Psychology and glanced through the "Help
+Wanted--Women" in the classifieds. That finished the morning's reading.
+She looked at her watch. Almost ten.
+
+She carried her coffee cup to the sink, rinsed it out and set it on the
+drainboard. There was still a cup or more coffee left in the pot. That
+could be warmed over later, but she took out the filler and dumped the
+grounds into the paper bag that held garbage. The bag was almost full.
+
+I'll throw it in the incinerator now, she thought, before I straighten
+the apartment.
+
+She emptied the ashtrays--the one beside her bed and the other on the
+breakfast table--then started down the hall with the garbage bag in her
+hand.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The incinerator chute was at the rear of the hall, next to the service
+stairs. Ellen could see the door standing slightly open. She hesitated.
+410 might be there. It was bad enough to ride in the elevator with him,
+feeling his eyes on her, but there was something unbearably intimate
+about standing beside him, emptying garbage.
+
+The door seemed to move a little, but nobody came out. She waited
+another minute. Oh, well, maybe the last person out there just forgot to
+shut the door tight. She opened it wider, stepped out on the stair
+landing. No one was there.
+
+The chute was wide, almost three feet around. Ellen opened the top and
+started to throw the bag down. Something was stuck in there. Her eyes
+saw it, but her brain refused to believe.
+
+What was there, blocking the chute, looked like--looked like--a
+chicken's foot, gnarled, clawed, but as large as a human foot--and an
+ugly, sickly green!
+
+Automatically, she reached in and clutched it. Her stomach turned at the
+cold feel of the thing, but still she tugged at it, trying to work it
+loose. It was heavy. She pulled with all her strength, felt it start to
+slide back up the chute. Then it was free!
+
+She gaped in sick horror at the thing she held. Her hand opened weakly
+and she sat down on the floor, her head swimming and her throat muscles
+retching. Dimly, she heard the thing rattle and bump down to the
+incinerator in the basement.
+
+The full horror of it gradually hit home. Ellen stood up, swaying, and
+ran blindly down the hall. Her feet thudded on the carpeted floor. As
+she passed 404, she was vaguely conscious of Mrs. Moffatt's concerned
+face poking around the door.
+
+"Is there something wrong, Miss Tighe?"
+
+"No," Ellen managed to gasp "It's all right--really--all right."
+
+She kept on running, burst through the apartment door, slammed it behind
+her, fell on her knees in the bathroom and became thoroughly, violently
+ill.
+
+She continued to kneel, unable to think, her head against the cool
+porcelain bowl. Finally, she stood up weakly, ran cold water, washed her
+face and streaming eyes. Thank God the wall bed was still down! She fell
+on it, shaking.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+What was that unbelievable ghastly, impossible thing? It was the size of
+a man, but thin, skeleton thin, and the color of brackish water. It had
+two legs, two arms, like a man ... but ending with those huge, birdlike
+claws. Heaven alone knew what its face was like. She had let go before
+it was that far clear of the chute.
+
+She thought of the story in the paper. So that was what the bartender
+saw! He wasn't drunk at all, and what happened when he told the police?
+They laughed at him. They'd laugh at me, too, she thought. The proof is
+gone, burned up in the incinerator. Why did this happen to me? Dead cats
+on the fire escape, dead monsters in the incinerator chute ... it's this
+terrible neighborhood!
+
+She tried to think coherently. Maybe the cat had something to do with
+it. The bartender said the thing ate a mouse--maybe it had tried to eat
+the cat, too. A monster like that might eat anything. Her stomach
+started churning again at the thought.
+
+But what was it doing in the incinerator chute? Someone in the building
+must have put it there, thinking it would slide all the way down and be
+burned up. Who? One of _them_, probably. But there couldn't be any more
+green monsters around. They can't live in an apartment house, walk the
+streets like anyone else, not even in this neighborhood.
+
+She remembered something else in the bartender's story. He said it
+looked perfectly normal at first. That meant they could look like humans
+if they wanted to. Hypnotism? Then any man could be....
+
+Suddenly another thought struck her. Supposing they find out I saw--what
+will they do to me?
+
+She jumped up from the bed, white with fear, her faintness forgotten in
+the urge to escape. She snatched her bag from the dresser, threw on her
+brown coat.
+
+At the door, she hesitated, afraid to venture into the hall, yet afraid
+to stay inside. Finally, she eased open the door, peered out into the
+corridor. It was deserted. She ran to the elevator, punched the bell,
+heard the car begin its creaky, protesting ascent.
+
+The elevator door had an automatic spring closing. The first time she
+tried it, her hands shook and the door sprang closed before she got in.
+She tried it again. This time she managed to hold it open long enough to
+get inside. She pushed the button, felt the elevator shake and grind and
+move slowly down.
+
+Out into the lobby.
+
+Out into the street.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The fog was completely gone now. The sun shone on the still-damp street.
+There were very few people around--The Tenderloin sleeps late. She went
+into the restaurant next door, sat down at the white-tiled counter. She
+was the only customer. A sleepy-eyed waitress, her black hair untidily
+caught into a net, waited, pad in hand.
+
+"Just coffee," Ellen mumbled.
+
+She drank it black and it scalded her throat going down. The waitress
+put a nickel in the juke box and then Bing Crosby was singing "Easter
+Parade." Everything was so normal. Listening to Bing Crosby, how could
+you believe in things like green monsters? In this sane, prosaic
+atmosphere, Ellen thought, I must be batty.
+
+She said to herself, "I'm Ellen Tighe, bookkeeper, and I just saw the
+body of a green man with claws on his feet...." No, that didn't help a
+bit. Put it this way: "I'm Ellen Tighe and I'm 27 years old and I'm not
+married. Let's face it, any psychiatrist will tell you that's enough
+cause for neurosis. So I'm having delusions."
+
+It made more sense that way. I read that story in the paper, Ellen
+thought, and it must have registered way down in my subconscious. That
+had to be it. Any other way, it was too horrible, too impossible to be
+borne.
+
+I'll go back to the apartment and call Dr. Clive, thought Ellen. She had
+the feeling, no doubt held over from the days of measles and mumps, that
+a doctor could cure anything, even green monsters on the brain.
+
+She drank the last of the coffee and fished in her coin purse for
+change. Picking up the check, she walked over to the cash register at
+the end of the counter, facing the street. The untidy waitress came from
+the back of the restaurant to take the money.
+
+Ellen looked out at the street through the glass front. The man from 410
+was standing out there, smoking a cigarette, watching her. When their
+eyes met, he abruptly threw away the cigarette and started walking
+toward the apartment house. Again she felt that faint dread she had
+experienced in the hall earlier.
+
+The waitress picked up her quarter, gave her back a nickel and a dime.
+Ellen put the change into her purse, got out her key chain and held it
+in her hand while she walked quickly next door. 410 was just ahead of
+her in the lobby; he held the front door open for her.
+
+She kept her head down, not looking at his face, and they walked, Indian
+file, across the lobby to the elevator. He opened the elevator doors,
+too, and she stepped in ahead of him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When the doors clanged shut, she had a feeling of panic. Alone with him
+... cut off from help. He didn't pretend not to know her floor, but
+silently pressed the proper button. While the car moved slowly upward,
+her heart was beating wildly.
+
+I'm not convinced, she thought, I'm not convinced. I saw it so plainly
+... I felt it, cold in my hands.
+
+The elevator stopped. The man held the door open and for a moment she
+thought he was going to say something. His free hand made a swift,
+involuntary movement as though he were going to catch her arm. She
+shrank away, but he stepped back and let her through.
+
+Ellen almost ran down the hall. Behind her, she heard his footsteps
+going in the opposite direction toward his apartment. She was panting
+when she reached her door. She fumbled for the right key--front door,
+office--and then she froze. There was a scratching sound in the
+apartment.
+
+She put her ear close to the door, listened. There was a rasping noise,
+like somebody dragging a rake ... or like claws, great heavy claws,
+moving over the hardwood floors!
+
+Ellen backed away from the door. It was true, then. She retreated, inch
+by inch, silently. Get away, leave before it catches you! She turned,
+ready to make a dash for the elevator ... and faced the man from 410.
+
+Down at the end of the hall, in front of his apartment, he was watching
+her. The way he lingered outside the restaurant, the way he looked at
+her. One of _them_ ... maybe underneath that homely, ordinary face, his
+skin was green and clammy. Maybe there were long, sharp claws on his
+feet.
+
+She was breathing unevenly now. Trapped! The thing in the apartment, the
+man in the hall. Her eyes darted to the elevator, then back, down the
+hall, past the door marked 404 ... the door marked 404! She covered the
+few yards in a mad dash, flung herself at the door, pounding wildly.
+
+"Please, please!" she sobbed. "Mrs. Moffatt, open, please!"
+
+The door opened at once. Mrs. Moffatt's round, wrinkled face beamed at
+her.
+
+"Come in, my dear, come in."
+
+She almost fell over the landing. The door closed behind her.
+
+She stumbled to the davenport, sank down, gasping. Two cats rubbed
+against her legs, purring. Two cats?
+
+She heard herself say stupidly, "Mrs. Moffatt, where's the other cat?"
+and wondered why she said it.
+
+Then she understood.
+
+The old lady's face quivered, altered, melted into something ...
+something green.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Outside in the hall, the man from 410 slowly returned to his apartment.
+Pushing open the door, he thought, I'll never get the nerve to ask her
+out.
+
+Well, probably wasn't a chance, anyhow. What would a girl like her have
+to do with a lousy cop like me?
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Know Thy Neighbor, by Elisabeth R. Lewis
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