STRANGE SCIENCE FICTION AND FANTASY OMNIBUS (15 page)

All of his doubts fell away. He grabbed her hard, kissed her, and began ripping off his clothes. When he was naked, he tore off her clothing, Terry helping him to unhook her bra. He mounted her and made love to her, urgently. It felt wonderful. He hadn’t had sex since he had died, and Terry was an extremely attractive woman. When he was spent and relaxed he was resting, he realized that somehow he had not enjoyed the love -making as much as he should have. Sex with his wife had almost always been a grand experience. This time it had been, to be put honestly, just average.

He looked at Terry and kissed her gently on the forehead. “That was great,” he lied. “I hope you enjoyed it.”

“It was wonderful,” she said. He looked at the expression on her face and realized she was lying to make him feel better. He laughed. “Admit it,” he said. “It was just average, just like everything else in this damned place.”

Terry laughed, too. “You’re right,” she confirmed, “Just average.

That was the last time they had sex. They lived now, treating each other as the best of friends, sleeping side by side, enjoying every minute with the other, but never again being intimate. They exchanged confidences, spoke about their plans and dream when alive, of their families and their children. Each day was like the last. They ate the fruit from the trees, walked hand in hand along the beach, and sunned themselves on the sand.

Then one day, Morrison awakened with a scheme. ‘Terry,” he told her excitedly, “I think I may have come up with a way for us to get out of Limbo.”

“What is it?” she asked eagerly. “I’d give anything to get out of here.”

He explained that when they had seen Baxter, the latter had seemed fascinated by her. “As a man, he explained,” I certainly can tell when another man is interested in an attractive woman. And you are much more than just attractive and for Baxter to display any interest in anything is totally out of character.”

“How do you suggest we use that to get out of Limbo?”

“Like this,” he explained.”We fix you up so that you look sexy, voluptuous, and lascivious. You go there and try and seduce Baxter. I think that it would be easy.”

“That’s fine,” she said, her interest fading. “So he lays me. How does that help us?”

“No, he doesn’t actually lay you,” Morrison answered.”I go with you and hide behind some trees so he doesn’t see me. When you get him hot and ready to have sex with you, you pull back and refuse. Hopefully, he will try to rape you. You shout for help and I come running to your aid, like the hero in the old melodrama rescuing the heroine from a fate worse than death.”

“And how does that help us?” she asked doubtfully.

“Simple. If he really tries to rape you and you don’t like the idea and refuse and I save you from rape, I will have done something good. Hopefully that will be enough to tip the balance and allow me to leave Limbo and get into Heaven.”

“Even if that works, how does that help me?”

“Don’t you get it?” Morrison asked. “If I am sprung and get to go to Heaven, you will have helped me. You also will have done something good, and can accompany me to Heaven.”

She thought for a minute. “I suppose it’s worth a try. We might as well get on with it.

Terry stood, took off her suit jacked, blouse and bra, then put on only her blouse. She buttoned only one button, managing to show most of her cleavage. She was so sexy looking Morrison found himself interested once again in having sex with her, although he knew the result would be just average. She then took off her skirt and panties, before putting the skirt. Hiking it up to show more off her thighs she removed it again and began ripping one of the seams.

“What are you doing?” he asked her. “You’re ruing that skirt?” I’m putting in slit to make me look sexier. The new slit revealed more of her beautiful body than would be allowed on most public beaches. “If you’re trying to do something hard,” she explained, “My husband told me, go for broke. If you want me to seduce Baxter, let’s go all the way.”

Hand in hand, they headed off to Baxter’s hut. “Switch your rear end when you see him, he advised. She wriggled her hips in a provocative fashion. “Like this,” she asked with a smile. “Perfect,” he answred. “If that doesn’t attract Baxter, nothing will. They approached Baxter’s hut and saw him as before, sitting on the ground and staring fixedly ahead. Morrison concealed himself behind a tree and Terry walked slowly toward the hut, wriggling her hips for all she was worth.

“Hello, Baxter, dear,” she said, lowering her voice to make it sound sexier. “I want you. How would you like to help me?”

She sat down in front of him and bent over, her blouse opening to reveal her nipples. I have something on my back,” she went on. “Can you look at it?”

She tugged at his arm. He looked up at her, and Morrison could see lust written all over his face. Baxter had said he had been in Limbo forever, clearly longer than had Morrison. If Baxter was in any way a man, and of that Morrison had no doubt, he would want to have sex with Terry. She half pulled; half led Baxter into the hut and removed her blouse. Hiding behind the tree, Morrison listened carefully for any cry for help. He had to wait for what seemed hours. He feared that Baxter had not attempted to rape Terry, or worse yet she had decided to try sex with him.

Finally, it came. He raced to the hut, saw Baxter naked attempting to mount a naked Terry grabbed Baxter by the ankle and dragged him out of the hut. He hauled Baxter up to an erect position, then smashed him across the nose, knocking the man flat. He realized he had hit Baxter harder than he had intended, letting the animosity he felt toward the man have full rein He hoped he had not killed Baxter and was relieved when the later moaned, showing Morrison had not killed him.

Terry came out of the hut, rearranging her blouse and torn skirt. “I hope I got there in time,” he said, “Fearful that he had not.

“I’m very happy to say that you just did,” she said, kissing him on the cheek. They walked back, hand in hand to her hut, hoping that their plan had succeeded.

Morrison awakened. He was lying flat on his back. From the motion, he realized he was somehow back on that damned boat. He opened his eyes and confirmed he was. Anxiously he looked around, hoping to see Terry, but he was alone. Ass before the rear of the boat was obscured by a dense fog. He saw land in front of him, and as the boat neared it, he saw the terrain was just like that of Limbo. The familiar trees with the red fruit came close to the sandy beach. He stepped onto the sand and the boat silently slipped away back into the fog.

Superficially, nothing had changed. Whatever this place was it seemed identical to the Limbo he had left. He walked off, anxious to get to Terry’s hut and learn if anything had happened to her. Try as he might, he couldn’t find the hut. Then he heard a strange sound which he had never heard in Limbo. He neared the source of the sound, which sounded very much like crying. At length, he arrived at a large clearing. Before him were hundreds of infants and very young babies, all naked, all crying. There was a strong odor of human waste, logical in view of the fact that none of the infants was wearing diapers or was old enough to be toilet trained.

He turned away in disgust and walked away as quickly as he could. This was the place; he realized, where the infants who had died before they could be baptized were sent. He walked further, but as the wailing of the infants disappeared he now heard a new sound, the beating of drums. Wondering what the noise might be, found himself at another clearing. In front of him dancing in a circle were about thirty human figures of various shades of brown and tan, the men naked except for loin clothes, the women bare breasted and wearing grass skirts. More than a few of them had what appeared to be bones through their noses. They gyrated in tune to the beat of the drums he had heard.

Suddenly, the drums stopped their beat; the dancers stopped and prostrated themselves on the ground, all paying homage to the mountain that rose in front of them. These thought, Morrison, must be the adults who had never been baptized before they died.

He turned and ran away, heedless of where he was heading. Then he stopped, threw himself to the ground and began sobbing. He knew now, without any shadow of a doubt, that he was in Limbo, that there was more than one limbo and that he had lost Terry forever. He doubted if he would ever stop weeping. Morrison wept, both because he would never see Terry again and because no matter how he tried, he was damned forever to remain in Limbo.

The precepts of effective statesman ship were best set down by Sir Edmund Chastleton, whose term in office is regarded by British historians as the happiest period in that nation’s history. His principles are clear and concise and are available to readers through a brief memorandum he wrote in 1896. The first and cardinal precept is no matter how series the crisis to adhere steadfastly to a policy of total inaction. Sir Edmund at the start of every Cabinet meeting would remind his ministers that “Today’s solution is tomorrow’s problem.” The wisdom of this policy is universely hailed by historians; in his seven years in office, Great Britain was involved in no major wars and scarcely any violence in the colonial areas.

Sir Edmund’s second precept is that if forced by external events to take action, to do the least possible and to limit its extent only to what is necessary to create the illusion of a change in the original policy. The last principle is that after a short fixed period of time determined before the start of the action whether the change has been successful a failure, to declare complete victory and return to the previous status quo.

In a much longer appendix attached to his memorandum, Sir Edmund provided the source material showing the soundness of his precepts. He cited Napoleon’s invasion of Russia in 1812, President Abraham Lincoln’s decision to attempt to resupply Fort Sumter in Charleston harbor in 1862, Hitler’s invasion of Russia in 1941 and the United States invasion of Iraq in 2002, All these represented the destruction that could be inflicted on a country and its leadership by taking action when inaction would have been by far the wiser alternative.

Sir Edmund skillfully answered critics who pointed to what they claimed had been successful actions taken by governments. In the United States those attacking Sir Edmund’s precepts pointed to the American Social Security System, which they asserted represented a vital guarantee of an adequate life-style to virtually all working Americans. Although Sir Edmund was no longer alive to refute this criticism personally, his defenders pointed out the section in his appendix. This dealt with the “apparent success” of some government actions that this was a result of the understandable error in judging the results over too short a period of time for the real failure of the program to become obvious. This position seems supported by recent warnings in the United States. The American Social Security System is rapidly going bankrupt. Current payers into the system will be unable by the time they retire to recoup in their monthly retirement payments anything like the cash the paid into it during their working lives.

It must be sadly admitted that the leaders of no major nation today formulate government policy in accordance with Sir Edmund’s principles of statesmanship. Perhaps as world conditions continue their steady deterioration, the pendulum will swing back to the level of sanity that prevailed in Britain while Sir Edmund headed the government.

Major Eric Hansen limped along at the head of a column of perhaps a hundred survivors. He dragged his right foot, his ankle aching from the spear wound, putting much of his weight on a large branch he had cut down and fashioned into a type of crutch. Hansen was desperately tired. He longed to stop and throw himself down on the side of the trail to rest. But he had to go on. To give up would be to condemn himself and all of the men under his command to a sure and painful death.

The column was made up of all of those left out of the eight hundred men of the regiment who had set out from their base camp to repair the continent-wide electric fence, which kept out the Behemoths from the settled area of the planet, Broma Three. It had supposedly been a routine mission; they had accomplished it successfully more than a dozen times before and Colonel Miller, the regimental commander, had decided not to encumber the troops by taking with them the artillery pieces that were available in case of emergency. Hansen, who was a veteran of three years’ service on Broma Three, had personally witnessed the carnage caused by a Behemoth attack. He attempted unsuccessfully to convince the colonel to take the artillery as a precaution, to no avail. Miller had only recently arrived on the planet and had never seen a Behemoth. To him, Hansen’s caution appeared excessive and possibly revealed a lack of courage.

Behemoth'S were the dominant life form, at least in that part of the planet that had been explored. They were huge, about twice the size of the American buffalo or bison, which they somewhat resembled. They differed, however, from the buffalo in having a head and shoulders that looked vaguely human, as well as a thin appendage on each shoulder that functioned much like an arm. Normally, they killed their opponents by simply trampling them to death, but they were also skilled at hurling large spears, with razor sharp points. It was one of these spears that had hit Hansen’s ankle.

When Behemoth’s charged you, it was extremely difficult to stop them. They were capable of speeds of about sixty miles an hour, giving them a momentum which was unlikely to be stopped by rifle shots or even by fire from a machine gun. Flight was on foot was unlikely to be successful since they could keep this speed up for over an hour. No Behemoth carcass had even been obtained for dissection in a lab.However, quick cutting into the body of one, fortunately, killed in the charge had revealed to Hansen that their hearts and other vital organs were protected by folds of heavy skin that functioned very much like protective armor. Short of using artillery or flame throwers, it was almost impossible to stop a charging body of Behemoths. Only a lucky rifle shot in the eye or to one of the neck arteries might kill it in time to avoid being trampled to death.