Part 2

Schor was standing there, his hands in his topcoat pockets, a little hunched man with an owl’s face and snow on his eyebrows. Behind him was an official Security car, and two Security officers stood at the foot of the porch steps with their guns ready.

Schor held Hall in his arms, and patted his back with a slow, deep affection.

“I came out anyway, Hall,” he said, his voice husky. “Thought you might need me for this last show. I wanted to come.”

_I won’t be working with him again_, Hall thought. Friendship ended when his task was done. “If you’d arrived a minute earlier it would have killed you,” Hall said. “It had more power than any fifty of the others.”

Schor essayed an anxious laugh. “Sure, I know. I’m only human.”

“Well--all your worries are over,” Hall said.

“Are the remains taken care of, Hall?”

Hall nodded. “Like the others. A few more minutes and there won’t be any trace of him except a charcoal gray suit.”

“Convenient,” Schor said. “I’m referring, of course, to that built in, self-incinerating device.”

“Very,” Hall acknowledged.

The Security officers were coming in. Someone was using a phone ... announcing that Martin was dead. Hall heard Donna moan vaguely and he was glad she was alive.

No. 999 was a melting pile against the wall, fading away. Hall started limping down the steps.

“Where are you going?” Schor asked quickly. “My wife wants you to--”

“Tell her good-bye,” Hall said, abruptly. Schor’s face had a painful expression. He whispered. “Don’t go. It isn’t over. Listen. You can keep on working--together with me, Hall. You can hunt men just as well as--”

“No,” Hall said. “Only men should hunt men.”

When Schor left him, Hall continued to crawl through the snow until he was well away from Martin’s house. The snow thickened as he crawled on until he was lost among the dark naked trees by a frozen creek. He could see nothing but a wilderness of falling snow. He stood there as the snow fell more thickly, covering him over gradually until he blended into the pale silence. Then he pressed the button.

A moment later he was melting slowly away like a snowman reacting to some private sun of its own.

He had been made to do a job, and now it was finished and he ...

... No. 1000.

Transcriber’s Note:

This etext was produced from Fantastic Universe, January 1956 (Vol. 4, No. 6). Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.

Obvious errors in punctuation have been silently corrected in this version, while spelling and hyphenation have been kept as is.