gs.earthabides-第6章

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s　where　each　one　showed　the　red　flag　of　a　violation。　It　might　have　been　some　Sunday　morning　with　many　cars　parked　overnight　and　the　stores　not　yet　open　or　people　beginning　to　circulate。　But　it　was　not　early　morning；　for　now　the　sun　was　almost　overhead。　Then　he　saw　what　had　made　him　pause；　and　what　gave　the　place　an　illusion　of　animation。　In　front　Of　a　restaurant　called　The　Derby　a　neon　sign　was　still　in　full　activity…a　little　horse　galloping　hard；　its　legs　still　going　as　actively　as　ever。　In　the　full　sunlight　the　faint　pink　glow　was　scarcely　visible　except　for　its　motion。　He　looked；　and　as　he　looked；　he　caught　the　rhythm…one；　two；　three。　（And　at　three　the　feet　of　the　little　horse　were　close　tucked　up　under　its　body　as　if　it　were　clear　in　the　air。）　Four…they　came　back　to　the　half　position；　and　the　legs　stretched　out　as　if　the　body　were　low　along　the　ground。　One；　two；　three；　four；　it　went。　One；　two；　three；　four。　It　galloped　in　a　frenzy　of　activity　still；　and　yet　in　all　its　galloping　it　arrived　nowhere；　and　now　even　for　most　of　its　time　it　galloped　with　no　eye　to　observe。　As　he　looked；　it　seemed　to　him　a　gallant　little　horse；　though　a　futile　and　a　foolish　one。　The　horse；　suddenly　he　thought；　was　like　that　civilization　of　which　man　had　been　so　proud；　galloping　so　hard　and　yet　never　arriving　anywhere；　and　sometime　destined；　when　once　the　power　failed；　to　grow　still　forever。。。　
　　He　saw　smoke　rising　against　the　sky。　His　heart　leaped　up；　and　he　turned　quickly　off　on　a　side　road；　and　drove　toward　the　smoke。　But　even　before　he　reached　it；　he　knew　that　he　would　find　no　one　there；　and　his　spirit　fell　again。　He　drove　up　to　the　smoke；　and　saw　then　that　it　was　a　small　farmhouse　quietly　beginning　to　burn　up。　There　were　many　reasons；　he　decided；　why　a　fire　might　start　thus　without　people。　A　pile　of　greasy　rags　might　ignite　spontaneously；　or　some　electric　apparatus　might　have　been　left…on；　or　a　motor　in　a　refrigerator　might　jam　and　begin　to　burn。　The　little　house　was　obviously　doomed。　There　was　nothing　he　could　do；　and　no　special　reason　why　he　should　do　it　if　he　could。　He　turned　around；　and　headed　back　to　the　highway　。。。　
　　He　did　not　drive　fast；　and　he　stopped　often　to　investigate；　rather　half…heartedly。　Here　and　there　he　saw　bodies；　but　in　general　he　found　only　emptiness。　Apparently　the　onset　of　the　disease　had　been　slow　enough　so　that　people　were　not　usually　struck　down　in　the　streets。　Once　he　passed　through　a　town　where　the　smell　of　corpses　was　thick　in　the　air。　He　remembered　what　he　had　read　in　the　newspaper；　apparently　there　had　been　concentrations　at　the　last　upon　certain　areas；　and　in　these　the　corpses　were　now　to　be　found　most　thickly。　There　was　all　too　much　evidence　of　death　in　that　town　and　none　of　rife。　He　saw　no　reason　to　stop　to　investigate。　Surely　no　one　would　linger　there　longer　than　necessary。　
　　In　the　late　afternoon　he　came　across　the　crest　of　the　hills；　and　saw　the　Bay　lie　bright　beneath　the　westering　sun。　Smokes　rose　here　and　there　from　the　vast　expanse　of　city；　but　they　did　not　look　like　smokes　rising　from　chimneys。　He　drove　on　toward　the　house　where　he　had　lived　with　his　parents。　He　had　no　hope。　Miracle　enough　it　was　that　he　himself　had　survivedmiracle　upon　miracle　if　the　plague　had　also　spared　the　others　of　his　own　family！　
　　From　the　boulevard　he　turned　into　San　Lupo　Drive。　Every　thing　looked　much　the　same；　although　the　sidewalks　were　not　as　well　swept　as　the　standard　of　San　Lupo　Drive　required。　It　had　always　been　a　street；　of　eminent　respectability；　and　even　yet；　he　reflected；　it　preserved　decorum。　No　corpse　lay　on　the　street；　that　would　b　e　unthinkable　in　San　Lupo　Drive。　He　saw　the　Hatfields'　old　gray　cat　sleeping　on　their　porch…step　in　the　sun；　as　he　had　seen　her　…a　hundred　times　before。　Aroused　by　the　sound　of　the　car　as　he　drove　by；　she　rose　up　and　stretched　luxuriously。　
　　He　let　the　car　roll　to　a　stop　in　front　of　the　house　where　he　had　lived　so　long。　He　blew　two　blasts　on　the　horn；　and　waited。　Nothing！　He　got　out　of　the　car；　and　walked　up　the　steps　into　the　house。　Only　after　he　had　entered　did　he　think　it　a　little　strange　that　the　door　was　not　even　locked。　
　　Inside；　things　were　in　good…enough　order。　He　glanced　about；　apprehensively；　but　there　was　nothing　at　which　a　man　would　hesitate　to　look。　He　searched　around　the　living…room　for　some　note　left　behind　to　tell　him　where　they　had　gone。　There　was　no　note。　
　　Upstairs　also　everything　looked　much　as　usual；　but　in　his　parents'　bedroom　both　the　beds　were　unmade。　Perhaps　it　was　that　which　made　him　begin　to　feel　giddy　and　sick。　He　walked　out　of　the　room；　feeling　himself　unsteady。　
　　Holding　by　the　rail；　he　made　it　downstairs　again。　〃The　kitchen！〃　he　thought；　and　his　mind　cleared　a　trifle　at　the　thought　of　something　definite　to　do。　
　　As　he　opened　the　swinging　door；　the　fact　of　motion　within　the　room　struck　his　senses。　Then　he　saw　that　it　was　only　the　second　hand　of　the　electric　clock　above　the　sink；　steadily　moving　on　past　the　vertical；　beginning　its　long　swoop　toward　six　again。　At　that　moment　also　he　started　wildly　at　a　sudden　noise；　only　to　realize　that　the　motor　of　the　electric　refrigerator；　as　if　disturbed　by　his　ing；　had　begun　to　whir。　In　quick　reaction　he　was　deathly　ill；　and　found　himself　vomiting　into　the　sink。　
　　Recovered；　he　went　out　again；　and　sat　in　the　car。　He　was　no　longer　ill；　but　he　felt　weak　and　utterly　despondent。　If　he　made　a　detective…like　investigation；　searching　in　cupboards　and　drawers；　he　could　probably　discover　something。　But　of　what　use　thus　to　torture　himself？。　The　main　part　of　the　story　was　clear。　There　were　no　bodies　in　the　house；　of　that　at　least　lie　could　be　thankful。　Neither；　he　believed；　would　there　be　any　ghosts…although　the　faithful　clock　and　refrigerator　were　rather　too　ghost…like。　
　　Should　he　go　back　into　the　house；　or　go　somewhere　else？　At　first　he　thought　that　he　could　not　enter　again。　Then　he　realized　that　just　as　he　had　e　here；　so　his　father　and　mother；　if　by　any　chance　they　still　lived；　would　also　return　here　looking　for　him。　After　half　an　hour；　overing　repugnance；　he　went　back　into　the　house。　
　　Again　he　wandered　through　the　empty　rooms。　They　spoke　with　all　the；　pathos　of　any　dwelling…place　left　without　people。　Now　and　then　some　little　thing　cried　out　to　him　more　poipantly…his　father's　new　encyclopedia　（purchased　with　qualms　as　to　the　expense）；　his　mother's　potted　pelargoniums　（now　needing　water）；　the　barometer　that　his　father　used　to　tap　each　morning　when　he　came　down　to　breakfast。　Yes；　it　was　a　simple　house…what　you　would　expect　of　a　man　who　had　taught　history　in　high　school　and　liked　books；　and　of　a　woman　who　had　made　it　into　a　home　for　him　and　served　on　the　Y。W。C。A。　board；　and　of　their　only　child…〃He　always　does　so　well　in　his　studies！〃…for　whom　they　had　cherished　ambitions　and　for　whose　education　they　had　made　sacrifices。　
　　After　a　while　he　sat　down　in　the　living…room。　Looking　at　the　familiar　chairs　and　pictures　and　books；　he　gradually　came　to　feel　less　despondent。　
　　As　twilight　fell；　he　realized　that　he　had　not　eaten　since　morning。　He　was　not　hungry；　but　his　weakness　might　be　partly　the　result　of　lack　of　food。　He　rummaged　around　a　little；　and　opened　a　can　of　soup。　He　found　only　the　stub　of　a　loaf　of　bread；　and　it　was　mouldy。　The　refrigerator　supplied　butter　and　stale　cheese。　He　located　crackers　in　a　cupboard。　The　gas…pressure　at　the　kitchen　stove　was　very　low；　but　he　managed　to　warm　up　the　soup。　
　　Afterwards　he　sat　on　the　porch　in　the　dark。　In　spite　of　his　meal　he　felt　unsteady；　and　he　realized　that　he　was　suffering　from　shock。　
　　San　Lupo　Drive　was　high　enough　on　the　slope　of　the　hills　to　be　proud　of　its　view。　As　he　sat　there　looking　out；　everything　seemed　just　about　the　same。　Apparently　the　processes　behind　the　production　of　electricity　must　be　almost　pletely　automatic。　In　the　hydro…electric　plants　the　flow　of　water　was　still　keeping　the　generators　in　motion。　Moreover；　when　things　had　started　to　go　to　pieces；　someone　must　have　ordered　that　the　street…lights　be　left　turned　on。　Now　he　saw　beneath　him　all　the　intricate　pattern　of　the　lights　in　the　East　Bay　cities；　and　beyond　that　the　yellow　chains　of　lights　on　the　Bay　Bridge；　and　still　farther　through　the　faint　evening　mist；　th