Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from Space Science Fiction May 1952. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.
PURSUIT
by LESTER DEL REY
Illustrated by ORBAN
I
ear cut through the unconscious mind of Wilbur Hawkes. With almostphysical violence, it tightened his throat and knifed at his heart. Itdarted into his numbed brain, screaming at him.
He was a soft egg in a vast globe of elastic gelatine. Two creaturesswam menacingly through the resisting globe toward him. The gelatinefought against them, but they came on. One was near, and made a mysticpass. He screamed at it, and the gelatine grew stronger, throwing themback and away. Suddenly, the creatures drew back. A door opened, andthey were gone. But he couldn't let them go. If they escaped....
Hawkes jerked upright in his bed, gasping out a hoarse cry, and thesound of his own voice completed the awakening. He opened his eyes toa murky darkness that was barely relieved by the little night-light.For a second, the nightmare was so strong on his mind that he seemedto see two shadows beyond the door, rushing down the steps. He foughtoff the illusion, and with straining senses jerked his head around theroom. There was nothing there.
Sweat was beading his forehead, and he could feel his pulse racing. Hehad to get out—had to leave—at once!
He forced the idea aside. There was something cloudy in his mind, buthe made reason take over and shove away some of the heavy fear. Hisfingers found a cigarette and lighted it automatically. The firstfamiliar breath of smoke in his lungs helped. He drew in deeply again,while the tiny sounds in the room became meaningful. There was theinsistent ticking of a clock and the soft shushing sound of a taperecorder. He stared at the machine, running on fast rewind, andreversed it to play. But the tape seemed to be blank, or erased.
He crushed the cigarette out on a table-top where other butts lay indisorder. It looked wrong, and his mind leaped up in sudden franticfear, before he could calm it again. This time, reason echoed hisemotional unease.
Hawkes had never smoked before!
But his fingers were already lighting another by old habit. Histhoughts lurched, seeking for an answer. There was only a vague senseof something missing—a period of time seemed to have passed. It feltlike a long period, but he had no memory of it. There had been thefinal fight with Irma, when he'd gone stalking out of the house,telling her to get a divorce any way she wanted. He'd opened themail-box and taken out a letter—a letter from a Professor....
His mind refused to go further. There was only a complete blank afterthat. But it had been in midwinter, and now he could make out thefaint outlines of full-leafed trees against the sky through thewindow! Months had gone by—and there