"Del.Rey,.Lester.-.Nerves" - читать интересную книгу автора (Del Rey Lester)

NERVES

by

LESTER DEL REY



CHAPTER 1

The jangling of the telephone gnawed at Doc FerrelТs sleep. His efforts to cut it off by burying his head deeper in the pillow only made him more aware of it. Across the room, he heard Emma stirring uneasily. He could just make out her body under the sheets by the dim light of the early morning.
Nobody had any business calling at that hour!
Resentment cut through the last mists of sleep. He groped to his feet and fumbled for his robe. When a man nears sixty, with gray hair and enlarged waistline to show for it, he should be entitled to his sleep. But the phone went on insistently. Then, as he reached the head of the stairs, he began to fear that it would stop. Reaching it just too late would be the final aggravation.
He half-stumbled down the stairs until he could reach the receiver. УFerrel speaking.Ф
Relief and fatigue were mixed in the voice at the other end. УThis is Palmer, Doc. Did I wake you up?Ф
УI was just sitting down to supper,Ф Ferrel told him bitterly. Palmer was the manager of the atomics plant where Doc worked, and at least nominally his boss. УWhatТs the matter? Your grandson got a stomach-ache, or has the plant finally blown up? And whatТs it to me at this hour? Anyhow, I thought you said I could forget about the plant today.Ф
Palmer sighed faintly, as if heТd expected DocТs reaction and had been bracing himself for it. УI know. ThatТs what I called about. Of course, if youТve made plans you canТt break, I canТt ask you to change them. God knows, youТve earned a day off. But. . . .Ф
He left it hanging. Ferrel knew it was bait. If he showed any interest now, he was hooked. He waited, and finally Palmer sighed again.
УOkay, Doc. I guess I had no business bothering you. ItТs just that I donТt trust Dr. BlakeТs tact. But maybe I can convince him that smart cracks donТt go over well with a junket of visiting congressmen. Go back to sleep. Sorry I woke you up.Ф
УWait a minute,Ф Ferrel said quickly. He shook his head, wishing heТd had at least a swallow of coffee to clear his brain. УI thought the investigating committee was due next week?Ф
Palmer, like a good angler, gave him a secondТs grace before he set the hook.
УThey were, but I got word the plans are changed. TheyТll be here, complete with experts and reporters, some time this forenoon. And with that bill up before Congress . . . Well, have a good day, Doc.Ф
Ferrel swore to himself. All he had to do now was to hang up, of course. Handling the committee was PalmerТs responsibility; it was his plant that would be moved to some wasteland if the cursed bill was passed. DocТs job was concerned only with the health and safety of the men. УIТll have to talk it over with Emma,Ф he growled at last. УWhereТll you be in ten minutes? Home?Ф
УIТm at the plant.Ф
Doc looked at the clock. Just after six. If Palmer thought things were that serious . . . Yet it was the last day of DickТs brief visit home from medical school, and theyТd been planning on this day all week! Emma had her heart set on making it a happy family affair.
A sound from the head of the stairs made him look up. Emma was standing there in a cotton robe and worn old slippers. Without make-up and with her hair hanging loose, she looked like a little girl who had grown old overnight without quite understanding it. Her face was carefully stripped of expression; sheТd learned to conceal her feelings back in the days when Ferrel had maintained a general practice. But the tautness of her throat muscles and the way she cinched the belt around her too-thin figure showed that she had heard and how she felt.
She shrugged and nodded, trying to smile at him as she started down the stairs, favoring her bad hip.
УBreakfast will take a little time,Ф she said quietly. УTry to get some sleep. IТll wake Dick and explain it to him.Ф
She was heading for the kitchen as he turned back to the phone. УAll right, Palmer. IТll be out. Nine okay?Ф
УThanks, Doc. Nine will be fine,Ф Palmer answered. Emma was already starting coffee in the kitchen. Doc turned toward her, and then hesitated. She was right; he needed the extra sleep.
Sleep wouldnТt come, though. The resiliency of youth was long gone, and now even the sound habits of his middle life seemed to be failing. Maybe Blake was right in his kidding; maybe he was growing old! He had caught himself wondering as he looked at the firm-muscled figure of his son, so like DocТs memory of himself at the same age, and so unlike what the mirror showed now.
The situation at plant kept gnawing at his mind. HeТd neglected of it, though aware of the growing tension, this sudden revival of the fear of atomic plants after so many years. CitizensТ protest meetings. Bills submitted to CongressЧbills that would force most atomic plants to move far from inhabited territory. But heТd put that all down to the normally noisy crackpot fringe. Still, if Palmer took it seriously, maybe heТd been wrong. Maybe things had really got worse since the breakdown of the Croton atomic plant a few months ago. It was only a minor mishap there, really. But it had resulted in a mild dose of radiation contamination over a hundred square miles or more; it seemed to be nobodyТs fault, but it had been a nine-daysТ newspaper scandal, and it might have served as a focal point for all the buried superstitions and fears about atomics.
Ferrel finally gave up and began dressing, surprised at how much time had gone already. The house was filled with the smell of hot biscuits, and he realized Emma was making a production of their last meal together on their only vacation. He heard her waking Dick and explaining the situation while he shaved. The boy sounded a lot less disappointed over the changed plans than she did; somehow, children seemed to care less than their parents about such things.
The boy was already at the table when Doc came down, poring over the pages of the early edition of the Kimberly Republican. He glanced up and passed over half of the paper. УHi, Dad. Tough about today. But Mom and I decided weТd drive you to work in my car, so weТll see a little more of you. I guess this anti-atom craze is getting serious, eh?Ф
УPalmerТs worried, thatТs all. ItТs his job to be overcautious.Ф At the moment, Doc was more interested in the biscuits and honey.
Dick shook his head. УBetter look at the editorial,Ф he advised.
Ferrel turned to it, though he usually had no use for the canned editorials in the Guilden papers. Then he saw that this was signed and individual. It concerned the bill to evacuate all plants engaged in atomic transmutation or the creation of radioactive isotopes to areas at least fifty miles from any city of over ten thousand population. Superficially, the editorial was an unbiased study of the bill, but it equated such things as the wealth the industry had built on one side against the health of children, menaced by accidental release of radioactives on the other. Intellectually, it proved the plants must stay; emotionally, it said the exact opposite; and most of the readers here would think with their emotions first.
On the front page, the feature story was on a citizensТ meeting for the bill. The number reported in attendance and the list of speakers was a second shock. Before National Atomics Products had been built near the city, Kimberly had been only a small town like many others in Missouri. Now it numbered nearly a hundred thousand, and depended for its prosperity almost entirely on National; there were other industries, but they were NationalТs children. Even those which didnТt depend on artificial isotopes still needed the cheap power that came almost as a byproduct.
No matter what the other Guilden papers screamed, or how crazy other cities went, it was incredible to find such a reaction here.
He threw aside his paper in disgust, not even bothering with the ball scores. He glanced grumpily at the time. УI guess IТd better get going.Ф
Emma refilled his coffee, then limped up the stairs to finish dressing. Ferrel watched her slow steps unhappily. Maybe they should have bought one of the single-story houses that were coming back in fashion. A private escalator would be even better, but DickТs education didnТt leave enough for that. Maybe in another year, though, when the boy was through school. . . .
УDad.Ф DickТs face was serious now, and his voice had dropped to hide his words from his mother. УDad, weТve been discussing this stuff at school. After all, medicine has to have some of the isotopes National makes, so itТs important to all of us. And somethingТs been bothering me. Suppose you get called up before Congress to testify on the danger?Ф
Ferrel hadnТt thought of that. УSuppose I do?Ф It could happen; he was as well known as anyone else in the field. УI donТt have anything to hide. It wonТt hurt me to give them the truth.Ф
УIf thatТs what they want. And if the man running it isnТt after good publicity in the Guilden press.Ф Dick started to go on indignantly, then threw a look toward the stairs and subsided. Emma was just starting down.
Doc swallowed the rest of his coffee and followed out to the boyТs little turbine-powered convertible. Normally he preferred the slower but dependable bus to the plant, but he couldnТt argue with EmmaТs wishes now. He climbed into the back, muttering to himself as the wind whipped at him. Conversation was almost impossible, between the sound of the air screaming around the sporty windshield and the muffled roar of the turbine, stripped of half its muffler to give a sound of false power. Well, maybe the girls at school who found such things attractive would outgrow it; Doc hoped so, though he had his doubts. Or maybeЧhe thought againЧhe was just growing old.
He watched the houses along the fifteen-mile road change from apartments to the endless rows of development huts that had grown up on all sides of KimberlyЧ prefabricated boxes with convertible rooms, set down on tiny lots that looked alike. Most of them showed evidence that the trailer had been their ancestor, and a few even had the wheels on which theyТd been shippedЧpossibly indicating a lack of faith in the permanence of the ownerТs employment.
The road was jammed, and in places they slowed to a crawl. From a neighboring car, Doc heard the swearing against Уignorant HoosiersФ that was still almost a trademark of some Missourians. A horn blasted out and another driver yelled, УGet off the road, you damned atomjerks! We donТt want you here!Ф
Atomjerks! Three years ago, being an atomjack was almost enough to insure good credit and respect. Times, it seemed, had changed.
There were other significant changes as they began to near the plant. More and more Vacant signs were in front of houses. Once there had been a premium on locations along the highway, but now apparently the nearness to the atom plant was changing all that.