They climbed out of bed and he helped her into her shorts and halter. She kissed him lightly again, said; "Good-by, lover," and bounced out into the hall, leaving him standing there, naked in the bedroom.
What a world, he thought for the hundredth time and began to gather his clothes. When he started to put his pants on, his wallet dropped from the hip pocket and flopped open on the floor. He picked it up, his eyes absently noticing the card that was exposed in the clear, plastic window. It was a Selective Service Registration Certificate and someone had written "small scar on right forearm" under the column for general markings. Absently he glanced at his right forearm, then his eyes widened in shock.
There was no scar!
A man cannot lose a scar, he told himself. He checked the card again. It was his, made out to Nicholas Howard Danson; but the scar was missing. He searched his arm and it wasn't there. The full realization of the whole thing struck him suddenly like a punch in the mouth. He was _not_ Nicholas Howard Danson!
Who was he? What the hell was going on? Had he killed the real Danson because they were obviously look alikes, and stolen the guy's I.D. Why? Was he escaping from some kind of crime? Was he a criminal, and what did the strange dreams have to do with it?
Numbly he climbed into the rest of his clothes and made damned sure the .44 magnum was loaded when he strapped it on. His hands shook uncontrollably and he felt trapped. It would only be a matter of time before those people at the wreck figured out the whole story and came howling after him. He had to get out.
The screech of car brakes startled him and he leaped to the window. A police car was in the lane and a single, plainclothes cop was getting out. It could only be Nolan. He watched as Brice pulled his Police Positive from the speed rig and headed toward the house. Then Nick hauled out his magnum and slammed it into the window.
Brice dived behind a bush as the magnum threw a .44 slug that barely missed the cop. The .38 barked back and Nick ducked the splinters as the bullet chipped the window frame.
"Come out, you fool," Brice roared.
"You go to hell," Nick yelled and fired again. "Who tipped you off, Nolan? Beth?"
"You left Danson's watch where your flying saucer cracked up!" Brice snapped another shot at the window.
Flying saucer? Nick blinked. What the hell was that stupid cop talking about?
"What'd you do with Nick," Brice roared.
Nick let the magnum answer for him, not trusting his voice. In the few seconds that followed Nick, in his nervous excitement, emptied the revolver at Brice, but never even grazed him. He cursed and began thumbing cartridges into the Ruger. He was almost finished, when Nolan caught onto the maneuver and decided to come in closer. He stood up and began sprinting toward the house. Nick had just yanked the hammer of the gun back to fire as Brice came into the open but he never made it.
Suddenly, in the middle of the yard, Detective Lieutenant Nolan Brice disappeared into thin air! Nick heard him yell for help, but he could see nothing. The yelling kept going straight up into the air until it grew faint in the distance.
Nick stared dumbfoundedly at the area where the cop had suddenly faded out of sight. What the hell was going on in this screwy place? Then he heard the shout below him and he twisted to stare at the borders of the small creek. It was the two men from Andy Hocum's gas station - the blond giant and the sandy haired guy. Panicky, Nick snapped off a shot and the blond dived for cover.
"The dumb bastard is shooting," the blond yelled to his companion several yards away. "Let's get the hell out of here, before he hits something!"
He got a brief glimpse of them as they took off through the brush and snapped a shot at them to hurry them along, just as Beth's car rocked up the rutty road and braked beside the police car. She leaped out yelling for him and he went down the stairs to meet her, the gun still in his hand.
Her face was drained of color as she came into the house, the red of her lips looking even more red against the pale wash of her face. "Nick! Where's Nolan?"
"I..."
"Oh, my God, Nick! Have you killed him?"
"I couldn't hit him," Nick told her. "I emptied the magnum at him and he disappeared into the air." His eyes had a wild look in them, "Right into the air," he added inanely. Everything was so balled up. Everything was crazy. He wasn't Nick Danson ... he didn't know his name ... Brice vanished into thin air ... the two guys were dogging his tracks ... women came out of the woodwork to make love to him. What the hell else could possibly happen?
Beth was staring at him. "You killed him," she breathed.
"No, no! He vanished. He vanished ... honest to God, I never even came close to hitting him. I might as well have thrown rocks."
"Men do not disappear into thin air," she said.
"Listen, forget that for a minute. How'd he know I was here?"
She sank wearily onto a chair and looked at him. "He found the watch I gave you a few years ago. It was lying at the crash site. He came to the office where I work and asked about you. I denied that I knew you were back and he began to yell at me about my life being in danger and that I should stay away from you until he had a chance to put a bullet into you. My God, Nick! What have you done?"
"I dunno," he lied. Should he tell her that he was not her husband, that he didn't have the foggiest notion of who he was? He decided against it. "How'd he know where to find me?"
She sighed. "He helped you build the place. Now where is he?"
"Goddammit, Beth, I told you! How many times do I have to tell you that he vanished!"
"Stop yelling at me!"
"Then believe me! It happened! I saw it happen, and I wasn't seeing things! Go out and look. If you can find his body out there, I'll eat it."
She uttered a little cry and came into his arms, holding him tightly. "Oh, darling, I want to believe you. I want very much to believe you; but men can't vanish."
"Brice did."
"All right. If you say he did. All right. Now what?"
"I don't know. I have to think. I have to try and remember what happened to me. It's the only way that this crazy whirl will make sense, and it has to make sense. It has to."
She nodded. "Let's go into the room. I want to be with you tonight. Let me have the gun, dear?"
He stared at her, his jaws knotted. "You think I'm nuts, don't you? You think I'm crazy."
"Darling, darling, of course not. But I wish you'd give me the gun."
Resignedly he unstrapped the gun and gave it to her. He shrugged. "I don't blame you. Hell, I think I'm crazy too."
She didn't argue the point.
They both went into the front room and sat there staring into the ashes of the dead fireplace while dusk fell about the cabin. Finally Beth started the fire. When she had finished, she bent and kissed him.
"Why don't we get some sleep, honey," she said. "That may help."
"I'll be up later," he told her and she kissed him again. Then she went to bed.
How long he sat there he had no way of knowing, but the fire was steadily dying. The thoughts hammered in his head and he became lost in them, trying mentally to find the key that would tear away the veil and grant him a peek at his past. Bits and snatches had filtered through, garbled and incoherent, that had tried to shed light yet could not. And, while he leaned toward one conclusion, drawn from the dreams, he felt it too fantastic for belief.
He was so absorbed in his thinking that he never heard the door open slowly. When he did hear the soft tread behind him, it was too late! A handkerchief of chloroform was clamped strongly over his face! He struggled, trying to get away from the hands that held him, but he was powerless! The chloroform got to him. He couldn't breathe...
He slept.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The ship came to rest upon a flat, ochre colored plain beside a brilliant white city encased in thick, heavy walls. There was a dull pain in his head and fire in his leg, but he was alive. He lay limply upon the bed while Firstspacer Narvi plied him with honeywine to dull the pain.
He grinned, studying the blond giant's warm, friendly face. He was among friends; the tall, yellow eyed Thistians had failed to kill him and Narvi had whisked him away into the violet sky.
"Thought we'd lost you, Lors," Narvi grinned. "You almost did," he replied, choking on the Thista honeywine. "Haven't you anything else, something from Darkkan?"
"Sorry, friend," Narvi grinned, "but you can be glad to get this. The 36th Command has been drinking up even this stuff. I'll see you later, in the hospital."
"All right, Narvi." The big man started away, but Lors stopped him by grabbing his blue sleeve. "Narvi?"
"Yes."
"Thanks. Thanks a lot."
Firstspacer Narvi punched him playfully on the arm and left the compartment. The medical men came in then, hooking the anti-gravity capsules to the bed and setting them into motion. The cot-like stretcher lifted and the men towed him out to the freight elevator. As they stowed him into the ambulance, he could see Narvi's staff car skimming toward the Commandant's building to make out his report.