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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..94976e7 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #66529 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/66529) diff --git a/old/66529-0.txt b/old/66529-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index d02dc90..0000000 --- a/old/66529-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,944 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of You Don't Walk Alone, by Frank M. Robinson - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: You Don't Walk Alone - -Author: Frank M. Robinson - -Release Date: October 13, 2021 [eBook #66529] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK YOU DON'T WALK ALONE *** - - - - - You've heard reports about strange lights - in the sky--flying saucers and all that rubbish! - A Joke? Illusion? Possibly, unless, of course-- - - You Don't Walk Alone - - By Frank M. Robinson - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy - March 1955 - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -It wasn't my idea--I wasn't the first one to think of it. It started -with John Kelley, who passed the idea on to me. And I'm going to do -something about it. I think John wanted to but he never got the chance. - -It began about two months ago when I was sitting at the lunch counter -in Chicago's LaSalle Street station, drinking coffee. I was on my -second cup when John walked in. He saw me about the same time I -saw him and came over to the counter and we gave each other the -I-haven't-seen-you-for-years-what-are-you-doing-now routine. - -Which was a laugh, in a way, because while he wouldn't know what I had -been doing, I couldn't help but know what he had been doing. And so -would you if I told you his right name. You wouldn't have recognized -him, of course. He was the inconspicuous type, the sort of man who -blended in so well with his background you would have had to hunt to -find him, even if he was standing right in front of you. He was thin, -not particularly tall, with limp, straw colored hair that clung close -to his scalp and a complexion that had never been exposed to the sun. -He was dressed in an old blue suit, a shapeless hat that might have -been new five years ago, and a lightweight gray topcoat that hadn't -been cleaned and pressed since he had bought it. - -See? You wouldn't have noticed him at all. - -It's a somewhat deceptive description, of course. John could have -afforded a Brooks Brothers suit and at least one Cadillac but the fact -was that he preferred being inconspicuous and in his job it was a -definite advantage. Both John and I were reporters but the difference -was--as Oscar Levant would say--the difference between talent and -genius. - -He ordered coffee then gave me a once-over with a pair of tired blue -eyes that took in everything from my brown shoes that needed a shine to -the newest thing in string bow-ties. - -"How's it going, Charley?" - -I blew the loose sugar off a doughnut and dangled it just over the edge -of the cup. "It goes all right. It could be better but I suppose it -could be worse, too. What brings you to Chicago?" - -"I'm on a story." - -"Sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to pry." - -He got a refill on his coffee and stirred in half a pound of sugar. -"You're not prying. As a matter of fact, maybe you can help me." - -"What's up?" - -"I'm doing a story about an invasion. It's one that started just a few -years ago, one that I'm afraid was highly successful, and one that I -think is still going on." - -I looked at him blankly. "Invasion? What invasion?" - -"One from out in space," he said casually. "You know, one from another -planet or another star. That type of invasion." - -I sat there letting my coffee grow cold because all the time I was -thinking that the one thing in the world John Kelley didn't possess was -a sense of humor. As long as I had known him he had never told a joke -and came damn close to never laughing at any. - -"I don't recall any reports of anybody running around with six arms or -green skin or tentacles instead of limbs," I protested mildly. - - * * * * * - -He shook his head, deadly serious. "You're not looking at it logically, -Charley. The only beings who would be interested in the planet in the -first place are beings who could live here. And if they could live -here, then it's possible they could have the same sort of physical -make-up." He paused. "Maybe the exact same sort of physical make-up. -Even to the extent of the average man's desire to avoid trouble." - -Kelley had something there. Every time you think of an invasion from -outer space, you think of a hundred huge rocket ships settling down -with ray guns going full blast and king-sized atomic bombs breaking up -the landscape. Actually, of course, it doesn't have to be like that at -all. Granted a physical resemblance in the first place, then maybe it -wouldn't be an invasion. It might be more of an ... infiltration. - -I jerked my thumb towards the people who crowded around the train -gates and sprawled out on the benches. "You mean that some of those -people aren't ... genuine?" - -"That's right," John said slowly. "Some of them aren't the real McCoy." - -I watched the people for a moment more, staring hard at the old man -buying a paper at the newsstand and the old woman who was selling it to -him. - -"How can you tell which are which?" - -"I can't. So far as I know, there isn't any way." - -He had forgotten his coffee now. It sat at his elbow, an unappetizing -mixture of lukewarm grounds, cigarette ash, and disintegrated doughnut. - -"Any leads?" - -"You've been reading them every day, Charley. A dozen times a year -somebody sees flashes in the sky, a dozen times lights settle down in -relatively uninhabited sections of the country. Sure, people see them -and report them. And what happens?" He shrugged. "The papers treat -them as part of the silly season, readers only glance at the reports. -You know as well as I that nobody packs up a camera to go out and -investigate." - -I took another look around the station. The bored people, sitting on -benches and reading their papers. The mother with her baby, sleeping -now but one you knew would be squalling in a few minutes. The porter -sweeping up just in front of the wash-room. The man in the information -booth rifling through a stack of time-tables. - -All very prosaic all very every dayish. I turned back to Kelley, my -face showing disbelief. - -"You don't believe me, do you?" - -I turned up my hands. "It's a pretty big order, John." - -"That's the one big drawback--convincing people." He sat there for a -moment, fingering the check the waitress had given him, then made up -his mind. "Meet me tonight by the library, Randolph street side. Nine -o'clock. I'll have some photographs along." - -I reached for my hat. "Exhibit A better be pretty convincing John." -And oddly enough, I didn't have any doubts but what they would be. His -reputation was that good. - -It was a nice, warm summer night when I got to the library a couple -of minutes after nine. Downtown was already filling up with teenagers -and pick-ups who flutter around the bright-lights like moths around a -candle. I stood on the library steps and waited watching people crowd -out of the IC entrance. - -I had smoked my way through half a pack of cigarettes before it -occurred to me that maybe John wasn't going to show. My first thought -was that he had pulled a gag on me. My next was that something had -delayed him. I started to walk over to his hotel. - -Between Michigan and Wabash, right next door to the library, there's a -small street that's more of an alley than a street. Street cars used to -turn down it before the Chicago Transit Authority got into office and a -lot of trucks use it to make deliveries. It's not too well lighted and -the only people who use it at night to cut through from Washington to -Randolph are people in a hurry. - -You're way ahead of me, I know. And you're right. But you're wrong -if you think I found him after five minutes of playing Sherlock. The -police found him at three in the morning after they had combed the loop -half the night. - -John Kelley was in one of the store fronts, his head bashed in. - - * * * * * - -John Kelley was the first martyr to the cause. In a lot of ways, -he didn't make a very good one. The papers put it down to gangland -enemies--the usual explanation for murders in Chicago--and for a while -I thought I had convinced myself that they were right. - -Then I caught myself glancing behind me when I walked up dark streets -at night and staring hard at the mirror in the local bar, watching the -people on the stools and wondering which were real and which were fake. -Kelley's story had started to haunt me and I couldn't shake it. - -I thought maybe a vacation would help so I pulled strings at the office -and got the last two weeks in July. I usually take my two weeks up -in northern Wisconsin, around Hayward and Spooner and the Chippewa -Flowage. It's one of the best fishing spots in the nation--everything -from muskies to bullheads, bass to trout. You can take along a small -fortune in flyrod for game fish, or you can have a lot of fun with a -plain bamboo pole and bobber for pan fish. - -Fred Gray--he was in the advertising department--went along with me. -After all, fishing is a gregarious sport and besides, whoever heard of -going alone? And Fred was the kind of man who was good company. The -big, bluff variety with a string of stories as long as your arm. - -We packed up Friday night and left early Saturday. With both of us -trading off on the driving, it was still a fourteen hour trip. If we -pushed it we could get to the Flowage early Saturday evening. - -Fred took his turn at the wheel first and I sat in the back seat and -snoozed. When I woke up it was early afternoon and the towns and the -farmlands had started to fall away and there were longer and longer -stretches of second growth timber and wild looking country that was -largely devoted to Indian reservations. And even then, the shacks were -getting fewer and fewer--an occasional wisp of smoke every few miles -marking a cabin back in the brush. - -I took the wheel and when we had about two hours to go, I stopped at a -cross-roads store to pick up some groceries. While I was picking over -the bacon and the pancake flour and the cornmeal, Fred was glancing -through the assortment of plugs in the beat-up showcase near the door. - -I took what we needed up to the counter and slid them across to the -character who ran the place. He was an old man, the veins standing out -big and blue on his arms and his face showing the effects of a lot more -than just age. - -"Henney's pancake flour is real good flour," he said, glancing at the -box I had picked out. - -"What's wrong with this?" - -"Nothing--just make a couple more cents on Henney's." - -I started for a moment, then decided to be obliging and went back and -got a package of Henney's. "Do you have any white flour?" - -"Yep, we got flour. Comes in bulk--gotta ask for it." - -He fixed me up with a paper bag containing a couple of pounds, then -started to figure how much I owed him, using a pencil and a hunk of -wrapping paper. - -"Pretty dead around here, isn't it?" - -"Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn't." - -Fred came over with a brilliant red and blue striped plug. "How much?" - -The old man glanced at the plug and then at Fred. "Two fifty, maybe." - -Fred dug for the money and I said, "When isn't it dead around here?" - -"Last night, for one." He pocketed the two fifty. "Lots of lights off -in the woods a spell. Figured it was some city people. Local folks go -to bed at a decent time of night." - - * * * * * - -I stood there looking at him and John Kelley's nightmare crawled out -of the dim recesses of my mind where I thought I had buried it, and -squatted right between my eyes, like a big, friendly collie dog making -itself at home. Lights. Late at night lights. Lights like in a hundred -news reports I had filed and forgotten. - -I opened my mouth to say something and then let it go. An old school -bus had ground to a stop out in front. The driver came in and I didn't -more than glance at him. Young fellow, tanned, wearing marine fatigue -pants and a white tee shirt. A vet, I thought. You see a hundred like -him every day. - -He jerked a thumb towards the gas pump in front. "Need some gas, Pop. -About ten should do it." - -The old man gave up figuring what I owed him and went out to fill the -tank. I tried to strike up a conversation. - -"Beautiful country around here." - -"Sure is. I like it best in the summertime." - -"Do much fishing?" - -He shrugged. "Some. I'm generally pretty busy." - -I looked out through the window at the bus where the old man was -cranking the gas pump counting the profits on ten gallons of gas. The -bus itself was battered and scarred, the red and yellow paint flaking -off the sides. It was filled with adults--most of them young--and a -sprinkling of kids. - -"Some kind of outing?" - -He laughed. "That's right. The Young People's League from the Methodist -Church in Winook." - -"Hard group to keep entertained, huh?" - -He made a face and said, "You know how it goes." - -The old man came back from the pump. "That's two seventy-six, son. Took -a little over ten." - -The driver paid and started for the door. - -"See you around," I said. - -"Yeah, sure thing." - -I turned back to the old man and asked, "What do I owe you for the -groceries?" - -"Call it three and a quarter," he said slowly, not taking his eyes off -the window where the bus still sat while the driver worked the gas -pedal. The aimless whirring finally caught and the bus lumbered off. -"Something funny there. Real funny." - -"What do you mean?" - -He came out of it, took my money, and leaned closer so even Fred, who -was still fingering plugs at the far counter, couldn't hear. "You know, -that young feller came by last night and that bus of his was empty. -There's a fork in the road up ahead and he went to the right. Nothing -up that away at all. The road just deadheads into the brush for about -three miles and that's it. And I would've sworn that's where he came -from just now. Didn't hear him go back last night and ain't seen him -all morning. Don't know where all those people come from." - -"He said they were from some young people's group in Winook." - -The old man looked surprised. "Winook? No town around here by that name -that I heard of--and I been here a mighty long time." - -I picked up my load of groceries and started for the door. "Maybe I -misunderstood him," I mumbled. "He must've meant some other town." - -Out in the car, I let the motor idle for a minute. Up the road for -about three miles, the old man had said. My stomach felt funny and the -palms of my hands were oozing dampness. But I had to take a look, I had -to go. - -"What's the matter?" Fred asked. - -"Nothing," I said. I put the car in gear and went straight ahead. I -took the right fork. - -"Where you going?" - -"Just up the road a bit. I want to check on something." - -He looked sour. "It's after six now. We don't have much time." - -"It'll only take a couple of minutes." - -He turned indifferent. "Suit yourself. I was thinking we might get some -fishing in." He let it hang there and I almost changed my mind. You -know how it is with fishing. If there's any daylight at all, you want -to at least trail a hook in the water before hitting the sack. - - * * * * * - -The asphalt changed to loose gravel and I ground my teeth every time -I thought of what the gravel and the dust were doing to the finish of -the car. It took ten minutes to make those three miles. Then the gravel -thinned out and we came to the end of the road in a small clearing -rimmed with pine trees and other scrub timber. - -Fred was surly. "Here we are--now what the hell was it that you wanted -to see?" - -I got out and stretched, then put my hands on my hips and looked around -the clearing. It almost looked like Fred was right. There wasn't a damn -thing to be seen. Brush and trees and knee-high grass and the two inch -mosquitoes that only seem to come out at dusk. Then I saw what looked -like a piece of paper by one of the trees. I ran over and picked it up. -It was paper and yet not paper--it looked more like a fusion of paper -and plastic with an odd kind of printing on it. I couldn't shake the -idea that it was a scrap of some foreign paper. Then I looked around -and saw where the grass was trampled and where a rough path led back -through the woods. - -I yelled, "I'll only be gone a minute!" and started out. - -It was longer than a minute. It was the longest half hour in my life. -The path wound between trees and through little gulleys and I had -trouble following it because the sun was going down and shadows half -hid the path. And then I came out in another clearing--a big clearing. -It took me a minute to appreciate the fact that the center of the -clearing wasn't a clearing so much as a depression. A large, neat, -circular depression where small trees, bushes, and grass had been -mashed flat to a pasty smear of green. - -And then I saw other things. Bits of clothing--clothing made of cloth -that I didn't recognize. More of the plastic-paper, some wrapped around -lumps of what I imagined was food. I circled the clearing. The path I -had taken was the only exit--or entrance. - -And you're way ahead of me again, aren't you? Kelley had been right all -along. The lights the old man had seen the night before were those of -a ship from God only knew where. The young man with the bus had gone -there earlier that evening to pick up his passengers. - -The bus driver. The bus driver who had reminded me of a hundred -other people I had known. Or two hundred. Or a thousand. And his -curious-faced passengers, none of whom had gotten out to stretch their -legs or buy a candy bar or chance a nickel in the coke machine or take -advantage of the pause that refreshes. - -I looked round the clearing again. Before they had gotten on the bus, -they had changed clothes and then ... they had had a picnic. - -Which I suppose was as good a way as any to start their first day on -Earth. - - * * * * * - -The cabin was small and cozy and smelled of pine and cedar and fish. I -sat on one of the bunks and pawed through a suit-case while Fred moved -around and lighted kerosene lamps and played boy scout with the fire -place. I found what I was looking for and then discovered a glass on -the window sill. I wiped it out, thinking all the time about detective -stories where the private eye took his straight--in a dirty glass. - -Fred didn't approve of drinking on fishing trips and his plump face -showed it. - -"You look scared, Charley." - -"I am." - -"Something to do with going into the woods back there?" - -"That's right. A lot to do with it." - -He sat on the bunk opposite me and concentrated on tamping tobacco into -his pipe. "You wouldn't care to tell me about it, would you?" - -"Sure, I'll tell you," I said. "I'll tell anybody. I'll tell the whole -world." I tilted the glass to my lips and let the liquid burn its way -down. "It started with a damned good friend of mine named Kelley." And -I told Fred the same story that Kelley had told me. And I told him what -I had discovered back in the woods. - -Fred laughed. "You're taking it too seriously, Charley. If you did some -research on it, I'd bet you ten to one that you'd find a natural cause -for everything." - -"I've done some research," I said tightly. "Only I didn't know that I -was doing it at the time." - -I felt a little reluctant to talk. This wasn't the sort of setting -where you talked about an invasion from another world. The door of the -cabin was open and I could smell the lake and the night air and the -nearby pines. It made it seem so damned unreal. - -"What kind of research?" - -"Nothing intentional--just stuff I picked up every day." The level in -the bottle went down another half an inch. "They're running a regular -commuter service, Fred. They're bringing them in by the thousands. By -the hundreds of thousands. And all within the last few years." - -He seemed interested. "Why do you say the last few years?" - -I shivered. "The number of sightings of strange lights in the sky that -have been made, for one thing. And population statistics for another. -Our birthrate has been declining for some time. But in recent years the -population has shot way up. More than it should." - -"It's the veterans. Starting new families." - -"Yeah? How many vets do you know with a lot of kids?" - -"Anything else?" Fred asked softly. - -"It's the perfect time for it," I mumbled. "World's all mixed up, -everything is in a state of flux. They could land and how could you -tell? DP's come into the country every day. That's one reason why we -never notice." - -"And you can't tell the aliens from human beings, can you?" - -"No, you can't." I paused and wiped away the sweat from my forehead. -"They're perfect copies. There's no way of finding them out. The man -in the store could have been one. The driver was--and I couldn't have -guessed." I laughed. "You could be one, too, for that matter." - -He was up at the fireplace, stirring the embers again. When I finished -talking he turned around, the poker clutched in his hand. His face was -impassive. - -"Not only could be, Charley. I am." - -I suppose there's a time in everybody's life when the chips are down -and you have to react automatically, you have no room for thought. I -let him have the bottle square in the face and then the poker glanced -off my shoulder and he was on me. - -He gripped me by the throat and forced me back against the wall. -"You'll never leave alive," he said and it was like ice-water down my -neck because he said it in a monotone, with no emotion at all. I tried -to break his grip and couldn't and then the world turned a spotty black -and I could feel my life start to slip away like a bar of wet soap. - -I fell to the floor and doubled my knees and drove my heavy boots into -his stomach. He had to loosen his hold then and for a moment I was -free. I didn't waste time and I didn't bother about fighting fair. - -We both went for the poker but I got there first. - -I killed a man that night. Without compunction, without regrets, -without any hesitation. I killed Fred and buried him in the woods and -loaded the car that same night. - -When I started the car it kicked right over and I spun out of there, -gravel spraying from beneath the wheels. I didn't breathe any easier -until I was a hundred miles away. - - * * * * * - -I thought a lot about what I was going to do on the way back. I'm -not the hero type but I just can't see them move in on Earth without -fighting back. And I consider Fred only the downpayment on John -Kelley's murder. - -One important thing. I've found a flaw, a weak spot. - -The invaders are imitators. The perfect imitators. They're a lot like -Fred was. They never have original ideas of their own, they parrot the -editorial pages and even the stock of jokes they save for stag parties -aren't funny because you've heard them all before. - -You can see them on the street-car on their way to work. Half will -sit with blank stares on their faces, reading the transitads, while -the other half will sit with their noses buried in their papers. Watch -them. If they looked alike you'd be reminded of the rockettes on the -stage of the RCA Music Hall. Or walk into a bar when the fights are -on and watch the customers with their faces glued to the TV sets. All -with their glasses of beer in the right hand, all with the same rapt -expressions on their faces. - -You see, they're imitating human beings. And they've got an -organization. They've infiltrated the government bureaucracy. How do I -know? Read some of the pamphlets the government puts out. There's one -on washing dishes that starts out with the proper size pan. Silly. But -not for somebody for whom washing dishes is a brand new experience. And -there's another pamphlet that says younger married men and women own -more sports clothes, older men wear hats, and older women have more -fur coats. Very interesting data. Like when I was in the army and they -briefed us on foreign customs before going out on a pass. - -There's probably thousands of Imitators in the government itself, -weighing, analyzing, and surveying humanity so they can issue reports -on how to act ... like a human being. Reports and pamphlets that are -point for point instruction books for the new arrivals. - -There's an organization. And there has to be somebody at the top of -that organization. That's the man I want to get. - -Fred knew a lot of people, he had a lot of contacts, and I'm -investigating them one by one. It isn't going to be too long before -I meet somebody that Fred knew back ... home. And then I'll find out -about the organization and I'll be on my way. - -I already have a good idea whom I'm looking for. He's an average man -with maybe a wife and a couple of kids, driving last year's car and -living in a house that isn't all paid for. He likes TV and he drinks -beer and he's drummed up a hell of a lot of interest in baseball -games. He probably wears blue serge and white shirts and small figured -ties and silk socks and black shoes. Maybe he even wears a hat, he's -probably that age. - -And I think there's even a good chance he's reading this magazine. It's -become pretty popular, it's the thing to do. - -But it isn't going to do any good to run or hide or doubt your friends. -Someday I'm going to find you. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK YOU DON'T WALK ALONE *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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Robinson</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: You Don't Walk Alone</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Frank M. Robinson</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: October 13, 2021 [eBook #66529]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK YOU DON'T WALK ALONE ***</div> - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<p>You've heard reports about strange lights<br /> -in the sky—flying saucers and all that rubbish!<br /> -A Joke? Illusion? Possibly, unless, of course—</p> - -<h1>You Don't Walk Alone</h1> - -<h2>By Frank M. Robinson</h2> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy<br /> -March 1955<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>It wasn't my idea—I wasn't the first one to think of it. It started -with John Kelley, who passed the idea on to me. And I'm going to do -something about it. I think John wanted to but he never got the chance.</p> - -<p>It began about two months ago when I was sitting at the lunch counter -in Chicago's LaSalle Street station, drinking coffee. I was on my -second cup when John walked in. He saw me about the same time I -saw him and came over to the counter and we gave each other the -I-haven't-seen-you-for-years-what-are-you-doing-now routine.</p> - -<p>Which was a laugh, in a way, because while he wouldn't know what I had -been doing, I couldn't help but know what he had been doing. And so -would you if I told you his right name. You wouldn't have recognized -him, of course. He was the inconspicuous type, the sort of man who -blended in so well with his background you would have had to hunt to -find him, even if he was standing right in front of you. He was thin, -not particularly tall, with limp, straw colored hair that clung close -to his scalp and a complexion that had never been exposed to the sun. -He was dressed in an old blue suit, a shapeless hat that might have -been new five years ago, and a lightweight gray topcoat that hadn't -been cleaned and pressed since he had bought it.</p> - -<p>See? You wouldn't have noticed him at all.</p> - -<p>It's a somewhat deceptive description, of course. John could have -afforded a Brooks Brothers suit and at least one Cadillac but the fact -was that he preferred being inconspicuous and in his job it was a -definite advantage. Both John and I were reporters but the difference -was—as Oscar Levant would say—the difference between talent and -genius.</p> - -<p>He ordered coffee then gave me a once-over with a pair of tired blue -eyes that took in everything from my brown shoes that needed a shine to -the newest thing in string bow-ties.</p> - -<p>"How's it going, Charley?"</p> - -<p>I blew the loose sugar off a doughnut and dangled it just over the edge -of the cup. "It goes all right. It could be better but I suppose it -could be worse, too. What brings you to Chicago?"</p> - -<p>"I'm on a story."</p> - -<p>"Sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to pry."</p> - -<p>He got a refill on his coffee and stirred in half a pound of sugar. -"You're not prying. As a matter of fact, maybe you can help me."</p> - -<p>"What's up?"</p> - -<p>"I'm doing a story about an invasion. It's one that started just a few -years ago, one that I'm afraid was highly successful, and one that I -think is still going on."</p> - -<p>I looked at him blankly. "Invasion? What invasion?"</p> - -<p>"One from out in space," he said casually. "You know, one from another -planet or another star. That type of invasion."</p> - -<p>I sat there letting my coffee grow cold because all the time I was -thinking that the one thing in the world John Kelley didn't possess was -a sense of humor. As long as I had known him he had never told a joke -and came damn close to never laughing at any.</p> - -<p>"I don't recall any reports of anybody running around with six arms or -green skin or tentacles instead of limbs," I protested mildly.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He shook his head, deadly serious. "You're not looking at it logically, -Charley. The only beings who would be interested in the planet in the -first place are beings who could live here. And if they could live -here, then it's possible they could have the same sort of physical -make-up." He paused. "Maybe the exact same sort of physical make-up. -Even to the extent of the average man's desire to avoid trouble."</p> - -<p>Kelley had something there. Every time you think of an invasion from -outer space, you think of a hundred huge rocket ships settling down -with ray guns going full blast and king-sized atomic bombs breaking up -the landscape. Actually, of course, it doesn't have to be like that at -all. Granted a physical resemblance in the first place, then maybe it -wouldn't be an invasion. It might be more of an ... infiltration.</p> - -<p>I jerked my thumb towards the people who crowded around the train -gates and sprawled out on the benches. "You mean that some of those -people aren't ... genuine?"</p> - -<p>"That's right," John said slowly. "Some of them aren't the real McCoy."</p> - -<p>I watched the people for a moment more, staring hard at the old man -buying a paper at the newsstand and the old woman who was selling it to -him.</p> - -<p>"How can you tell which are which?"</p> - -<p>"I can't. So far as I know, there isn't any way."</p> - -<p>He had forgotten his coffee now. It sat at his elbow, an unappetizing -mixture of lukewarm grounds, cigarette ash, and disintegrated doughnut.</p> - -<p>"Any leads?"</p> - -<p>"You've been reading them every day, Charley. A dozen times a year -somebody sees flashes in the sky, a dozen times lights settle down in -relatively uninhabited sections of the country. Sure, people see them -and report them. And what happens?" He shrugged. "The papers treat -them as part of the silly season, readers only glance at the reports. -You know as well as I that nobody packs up a camera to go out and -investigate."</p> - -<p>I took another look around the station. The bored people, sitting on -benches and reading their papers. The mother with her baby, sleeping -now but one you knew would be squalling in a few minutes. The porter -sweeping up just in front of the wash-room. The man in the information -booth rifling through a stack of time-tables.</p> - -<p>All very prosaic all very every dayish. I turned back to Kelley, my -face showing disbelief.</p> - -<p>"You don't believe me, do you?"</p> - -<p>I turned up my hands. "It's a pretty big order, John."</p> - -<p>"That's the one big drawback—convincing people." He sat there for a -moment, fingering the check the waitress had given him, then made up -his mind. "Meet me tonight by the library, Randolph street side. Nine -o'clock. I'll have some photographs along."</p> - -<p>I reached for my hat. "Exhibit A better be pretty convincing John." -And oddly enough, I didn't have any doubts but what they would be. His -reputation was that good.</p> - -<p>It was a nice, warm summer night when I got to the library a couple -of minutes after nine. Downtown was already filling up with teenagers -and pick-ups who flutter around the bright-lights like moths around a -candle. I stood on the library steps and waited watching people crowd -out of the IC entrance.</p> - -<p>I had smoked my way through half a pack of cigarettes before it -occurred to me that maybe John wasn't going to show. My first thought -was that he had pulled a gag on me. My next was that something had -delayed him. I started to walk over to his hotel.</p> - -<p>Between Michigan and Wabash, right next door to the library, there's a -small street that's more of an alley than a street. Street cars used to -turn down it before the Chicago Transit Authority got into office and a -lot of trucks use it to make deliveries. It's not too well lighted and -the only people who use it at night to cut through from Washington to -Randolph are people in a hurry.</p> - -<p>You're way ahead of me, I know. And you're right. But you're wrong -if you think I found him after five minutes of playing Sherlock. The -police found him at three in the morning after they had combed the loop -half the night.</p> - -<p>John Kelley was in one of the store fronts, his head bashed in.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>John Kelley was the first martyr to the cause. In a lot of ways, -he didn't make a very good one. The papers put it down to gangland -enemies—the usual explanation for murders in Chicago—and for a while -I thought I had convinced myself that they were right.</p> - -<p>Then I caught myself glancing behind me when I walked up dark streets -at night and staring hard at the mirror in the local bar, watching the -people on the stools and wondering which were real and which were fake. -Kelley's story had started to haunt me and I couldn't shake it.</p> - -<p>I thought maybe a vacation would help so I pulled strings at the office -and got the last two weeks in July. I usually take my two weeks up -in northern Wisconsin, around Hayward and Spooner and the Chippewa -Flowage. It's one of the best fishing spots in the nation—everything -from muskies to bullheads, bass to trout. You can take along a small -fortune in flyrod for game fish, or you can have a lot of fun with a -plain bamboo pole and bobber for pan fish.</p> - -<p>Fred Gray—he was in the advertising department—went along with me. -After all, fishing is a gregarious sport and besides, whoever heard of -going alone? And Fred was the kind of man who was good company. The -big, bluff variety with a string of stories as long as your arm.</p> - -<p>We packed up Friday night and left early Saturday. With both of us -trading off on the driving, it was still a fourteen hour trip. If we -pushed it we could get to the Flowage early Saturday evening.</p> - -<p>Fred took his turn at the wheel first and I sat in the back seat and -snoozed. When I woke up it was early afternoon and the towns and the -farmlands had started to fall away and there were longer and longer -stretches of second growth timber and wild looking country that was -largely devoted to Indian reservations. And even then, the shacks were -getting fewer and fewer—an occasional wisp of smoke every few miles -marking a cabin back in the brush.</p> - -<p>I took the wheel and when we had about two hours to go, I stopped at a -cross-roads store to pick up some groceries. While I was picking over -the bacon and the pancake flour and the cornmeal, Fred was glancing -through the assortment of plugs in the beat-up showcase near the door.</p> - -<p>I took what we needed up to the counter and slid them across to the -character who ran the place. He was an old man, the veins standing out -big and blue on his arms and his face showing the effects of a lot more -than just age.</p> - -<p>"Henney's pancake flour is real good flour," he said, glancing at the -box I had picked out.</p> - -<p>"What's wrong with this?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing—just make a couple more cents on Henney's."</p> - -<p>I started for a moment, then decided to be obliging and went back and -got a package of Henney's. "Do you have any white flour?"</p> - -<p>"Yep, we got flour. Comes in bulk—gotta ask for it."</p> - -<p>He fixed me up with a paper bag containing a couple of pounds, then -started to figure how much I owed him, using a pencil and a hunk of -wrapping paper.</p> - -<p>"Pretty dead around here, isn't it?"</p> - -<p>"Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn't."</p> - -<p>Fred came over with a brilliant red and blue striped plug. "How much?"</p> - -<p>The old man glanced at the plug and then at Fred. "Two fifty, maybe."</p> - -<p>Fred dug for the money and I said, "When isn't it dead around here?"</p> - -<p>"Last night, for one." He pocketed the two fifty. "Lots of lights off -in the woods a spell. Figured it was some city people. Local folks go -to bed at a decent time of night."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I stood there looking at him and John Kelley's nightmare crawled out -of the dim recesses of my mind where I thought I had buried it, and -squatted right between my eyes, like a big, friendly collie dog making -itself at home. Lights. Late at night lights. Lights like in a hundred -news reports I had filed and forgotten.</p> - -<p>I opened my mouth to say something and then let it go. An old school -bus had ground to a stop out in front. The driver came in and I didn't -more than glance at him. Young fellow, tanned, wearing marine fatigue -pants and a white tee shirt. A vet, I thought. You see a hundred like -him every day.</p> - -<p>He jerked a thumb towards the gas pump in front. "Need some gas, Pop. -About ten should do it."</p> - -<p>The old man gave up figuring what I owed him and went out to fill the -tank. I tried to strike up a conversation.</p> - -<p>"Beautiful country around here."</p> - -<p>"Sure is. I like it best in the summertime."</p> - -<p>"Do much fishing?"</p> - -<p>He shrugged. "Some. I'm generally pretty busy."</p> - -<p>I looked out through the window at the bus where the old man was -cranking the gas pump counting the profits on ten gallons of gas. The -bus itself was battered and scarred, the red and yellow paint flaking -off the sides. It was filled with adults—most of them young—and a -sprinkling of kids.</p> - -<p>"Some kind of outing?"</p> - -<p>He laughed. "That's right. The Young People's League from the Methodist -Church in Winook."</p> - -<p>"Hard group to keep entertained, huh?"</p> - -<p>He made a face and said, "You know how it goes."</p> - -<p>The old man came back from the pump. "That's two seventy-six, son. Took -a little over ten."</p> - -<p>The driver paid and started for the door.</p> - -<p>"See you around," I said.</p> - -<p>"Yeah, sure thing."</p> - -<p>I turned back to the old man and asked, "What do I owe you for the -groceries?"</p> - -<p>"Call it three and a quarter," he said slowly, not taking his eyes off -the window where the bus still sat while the driver worked the gas -pedal. The aimless whirring finally caught and the bus lumbered off. -"Something funny there. Real funny."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean?"</p> - -<p>He came out of it, took my money, and leaned closer so even Fred, who -was still fingering plugs at the far counter, couldn't hear. "You know, -that young feller came by last night and that bus of his was empty. -There's a fork in the road up ahead and he went to the right. Nothing -up that away at all. The road just deadheads into the brush for about -three miles and that's it. And I would've sworn that's where he came -from just now. Didn't hear him go back last night and ain't seen him -all morning. Don't know where all those people come from."</p> - -<p>"He said they were from some young people's group in Winook."</p> - -<p>The old man looked surprised. "Winook? No town around here by that name -that I heard of—and I been here a mighty long time."</p> - -<p>I picked up my load of groceries and started for the door. "Maybe I -misunderstood him," I mumbled. "He must've meant some other town."</p> - -<p>Out in the car, I let the motor idle for a minute. Up the road for -about three miles, the old man had said. My stomach felt funny and the -palms of my hands were oozing dampness. But I had to take a look, I had -to go.</p> - -<p>"What's the matter?" Fred asked.</p> - -<p>"Nothing," I said. I put the car in gear and went straight ahead. I -took the right fork.</p> - -<p>"Where you going?"</p> - -<p>"Just up the road a bit. I want to check on something."</p> - -<p>He looked sour. "It's after six now. We don't have much time."</p> - -<p>"It'll only take a couple of minutes."</p> - -<p>He turned indifferent. "Suit yourself. I was thinking we might get some -fishing in." He let it hang there and I almost changed my mind. You -know how it is with fishing. If there's any daylight at all, you want -to at least trail a hook in the water before hitting the sack.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The asphalt changed to loose gravel and I ground my teeth every time -I thought of what the gravel and the dust were doing to the finish of -the car. It took ten minutes to make those three miles. Then the gravel -thinned out and we came to the end of the road in a small clearing -rimmed with pine trees and other scrub timber.</p> - -<p>Fred was surly. "Here we are—now what the hell was it that you wanted -to see?"</p> - -<p>I got out and stretched, then put my hands on my hips and looked around -the clearing. It almost looked like Fred was right. There wasn't a damn -thing to be seen. Brush and trees and knee-high grass and the two inch -mosquitoes that only seem to come out at dusk. Then I saw what looked -like a piece of paper by one of the trees. I ran over and picked it up. -It was paper and yet not paper—it looked more like a fusion of paper -and plastic with an odd kind of printing on it. I couldn't shake the -idea that it was a scrap of some foreign paper. Then I looked around -and saw where the grass was trampled and where a rough path led back -through the woods.</p> - -<p>I yelled, "I'll only be gone a minute!" and started out.</p> - -<p>It was longer than a minute. It was the longest half hour in my life. -The path wound between trees and through little gulleys and I had -trouble following it because the sun was going down and shadows half -hid the path. And then I came out in another clearing—a big clearing. -It took me a minute to appreciate the fact that the center of the -clearing wasn't a clearing so much as a depression. A large, neat, -circular depression where small trees, bushes, and grass had been -mashed flat to a pasty smear of green.</p> - -<p>And then I saw other things. Bits of clothing—clothing made of cloth -that I didn't recognize. More of the plastic-paper, some wrapped around -lumps of what I imagined was food. I circled the clearing. The path I -had taken was the only exit—or entrance.</p> - -<p>And you're way ahead of me again, aren't you? Kelley had been right all -along. The lights the old man had seen the night before were those of -a ship from God only knew where. The young man with the bus had gone -there earlier that evening to pick up his passengers.</p> - -<p>The bus driver. The bus driver who had reminded me of a hundred -other people I had known. Or two hundred. Or a thousand. And his -curious-faced passengers, none of whom had gotten out to stretch their -legs or buy a candy bar or chance a nickel in the coke machine or take -advantage of the pause that refreshes.</p> - -<p>I looked round the clearing again. Before they had gotten on the bus, -they had changed clothes and then ... they had had a picnic.</p> - -<p>Which I suppose was as good a way as any to start their first day on -Earth.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>The cabin was small and cozy and smelled of pine and cedar and fish. I -sat on one of the bunks and pawed through a suit-case while Fred moved -around and lighted kerosene lamps and played boy scout with the fire -place. I found what I was looking for and then discovered a glass on -the window sill. I wiped it out, thinking all the time about detective -stories where the private eye took his straight—in a dirty glass.</p> - -<p>Fred didn't approve of drinking on fishing trips and his plump face -showed it.</p> - -<p>"You look scared, Charley."</p> - -<p>"I am."</p> - -<p>"Something to do with going into the woods back there?"</p> - -<p>"That's right. A lot to do with it."</p> - -<p>He sat on the bunk opposite me and concentrated on tamping tobacco into -his pipe. "You wouldn't care to tell me about it, would you?"</p> - -<p>"Sure, I'll tell you," I said. "I'll tell anybody. I'll tell the whole -world." I tilted the glass to my lips and let the liquid burn its way -down. "It started with a damned good friend of mine named Kelley." And -I told Fred the same story that Kelley had told me. And I told him what -I had discovered back in the woods.</p> - -<p>Fred laughed. "You're taking it too seriously, Charley. If you did some -research on it, I'd bet you ten to one that you'd find a natural cause -for everything."</p> - -<p>"I've done some research," I said tightly. "Only I didn't know that I -was doing it at the time."</p> - -<p>I felt a little reluctant to talk. This wasn't the sort of setting -where you talked about an invasion from another world. The door of the -cabin was open and I could smell the lake and the night air and the -nearby pines. It made it seem so damned unreal.</p> - -<p>"What kind of research?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing intentional—just stuff I picked up every day." The level in -the bottle went down another half an inch. "They're running a regular -commuter service, Fred. They're bringing them in by the thousands. By -the hundreds of thousands. And all within the last few years."</p> - -<p>He seemed interested. "Why do you say the last few years?"</p> - -<p>I shivered. "The number of sightings of strange lights in the sky that -have been made, for one thing. And population statistics for another. -Our birthrate has been declining for some time. But in recent years the -population has shot way up. More than it should."</p> - -<p>"It's the veterans. Starting new families."</p> - -<p>"Yeah? How many vets do you know with a lot of kids?"</p> - -<p>"Anything else?" Fred asked softly.</p> - -<p>"It's the perfect time for it," I mumbled. "World's all mixed up, -everything is in a state of flux. They could land and how could you -tell? DP's come into the country every day. That's one reason why we -never notice."</p> - -<p>"And you can't tell the aliens from human beings, can you?"</p> - -<p>"No, you can't." I paused and wiped away the sweat from my forehead. -"They're perfect copies. There's no way of finding them out. The man -in the store could have been one. The driver was—and I couldn't have -guessed." I laughed. "You could be one, too, for that matter."</p> - -<p>He was up at the fireplace, stirring the embers again. When I finished -talking he turned around, the poker clutched in his hand. His face was -impassive.</p> - -<p>"Not only could be, Charley. I am."</p> - -<p>I suppose there's a time in everybody's life when the chips are down -and you have to react automatically, you have no room for thought. I -let him have the bottle square in the face and then the poker glanced -off my shoulder and he was on me.</p> - -<p>He gripped me by the throat and forced me back against the wall. -"You'll never leave alive," he said and it was like ice-water down my -neck because he said it in a monotone, with no emotion at all. I tried -to break his grip and couldn't and then the world turned a spotty black -and I could feel my life start to slip away like a bar of wet soap.</p> - -<p>I fell to the floor and doubled my knees and drove my heavy boots into -his stomach. He had to loosen his hold then and for a moment I was -free. I didn't waste time and I didn't bother about fighting fair.</p> - -<p>We both went for the poker but I got there first.</p> - -<p>I killed a man that night. Without compunction, without regrets, -without any hesitation. I killed Fred and buried him in the woods and -loaded the car that same night.</p> - -<p>When I started the car it kicked right over and I spun out of there, -gravel spraying from beneath the wheels. I didn't breathe any easier -until I was a hundred miles away.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I thought a lot about what I was going to do on the way back. I'm -not the hero type but I just can't see them move in on Earth without -fighting back. And I consider Fred only the downpayment on John -Kelley's murder.</p> - -<p>One important thing. I've found a flaw, a weak spot.</p> - -<p>The invaders are imitators. The perfect imitators. They're a lot like -Fred was. They never have original ideas of their own, they parrot the -editorial pages and even the stock of jokes they save for stag parties -aren't funny because you've heard them all before.</p> - -<p>You can see them on the street-car on their way to work. Half will -sit with blank stares on their faces, reading the transitads, while -the other half will sit with their noses buried in their papers. Watch -them. If they looked alike you'd be reminded of the rockettes on the -stage of the RCA Music Hall. Or walk into a bar when the fights are -on and watch the customers with their faces glued to the TV sets. All -with their glasses of beer in the right hand, all with the same rapt -expressions on their faces.</p> - -<p>You see, they're imitating human beings. And they've got an -organization. They've infiltrated the government bureaucracy. How do I -know? Read some of the pamphlets the government puts out. There's one -on washing dishes that starts out with the proper size pan. Silly. But -not for somebody for whom washing dishes is a brand new experience. And -there's another pamphlet that says younger married men and women own -more sports clothes, older men wear hats, and older women have more -fur coats. Very interesting data. Like when I was in the army and they -briefed us on foreign customs before going out on a pass.</p> - -<p>There's probably thousands of Imitators in the government itself, -weighing, analyzing, and surveying humanity so they can issue reports -on how to act ... like a human being. Reports and pamphlets that are -point for point instruction books for the new arrivals.</p> - -<p>There's an organization. And there has to be somebody at the top of -that organization. That's the man I want to get.</p> - -<p>Fred knew a lot of people, he had a lot of contacts, and I'm -investigating them one by one. It isn't going to be too long before -I meet somebody that Fred knew back ... home. And then I'll find out -about the organization and I'll be on my way.</p> - -<p>I already have a good idea whom I'm looking for. He's an average man -with maybe a wife and a couple of kids, driving last year's car and -living in a house that isn't all paid for. He likes TV and he drinks -beer and he's drummed up a hell of a lot of interest in baseball -games. He probably wears blue serge and white shirts and small figured -ties and silk socks and black shoes. Maybe he even wears a hat, he's -probably that age.</p> - -<p>And I think there's even a good chance he's reading this magazine. It's -become pretty popular, it's the thing to do.</p> - -<p>But it isn't going to do any good to run or hide or doubt your friends. -Someday I'm going to find you.</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK YOU DON'T WALK ALONE ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ -concept and trademark. 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