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diff --git a/32287.txt b/32287.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f605009 --- /dev/null +++ b/32287.txt @@ -0,0 +1,870 @@ +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 + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KNOW THY NEIGHBOR *** + +***** This file should be named 32287.txt or 32287.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/2/2/8/32287/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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