The Greatest Science Fiction Works of Philip K. Dick. Филип Дик

slithered up beside him. “Where is it?”

      “Down there.” Hendricks passed him the glasses. Clouds of ash rolled across the evening sky. The world was darkening. They had a couple of hours of light left, at the most. Probably not that much.

      “I don’t see anything,” Klaus said.

      “That tree there. The stump. By the pile of bricks. The entrance is to the right of the bricks.”

      “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

      “You and Tasso cover me from here. You’ll be able to sight all the way to the bunker entrance.”

      “You’re going down alone?”

      “With my wrist tab I’ll be safe. The ground around the bunker is a living field of claws. They collect down in the ash. Like crabs. Without tabs you wouldn’t have a chance.”

      “Maybe you’re right.”

      “I’ll walk slowly all the way. As soon as I know for certain—”

      “If they’re down inside the bunker you won’t be able to get back up here. They go fast. You don’t realize.”

      “What do you suggest?”

      Klaus considered. “I don’t know. Get them to come up to the surface. So you can see.”

      Hendricks brought his transmitter from his belt, raising the antenna. “Let’s get started.”

      * * * * *

      Klaus signalled to Tasso. She crawled expertly up the side of the rise to where they were sitting.

      “He’s going down alone,” Klaus said. “We’ll cover him from here. As soon as you see him start back, fire past him at once. They come quick.”

      “You’re not very optimistic,” Tasso said.

      “No, I’m not.”

      Hendricks opened the breech of his gun, checking it carefully. “Maybe things are all right.”

      “You didn’t see them. Hundreds of them. All the same. Pouring out like ants.”

      “I should be able to find out without going down all the way.” Hendricks locked his gun, gripping it in one hand, the transmitter in the other. “Well, wish me luck.”

      Klaus put out his hand. “Don’t go down until you’re sure. Talk to them from up here. Make them show themselves.”

      * * * * *

      Hendricks stood up. He stepped down the side of the rise.

      A moment later he was walking slowly toward the pile of bricks and debris beside the dead tree stump. Toward the entrance of the forward command bunker.

      Nothing stirred. He raised the transmitter, clicking it on. “Scott? Can you hear me?”

      Silence.

      “Scott! This is Hendricks. Can you hear me? I’m standing outside the bunker. You should be able to see me in the view sight.”

      He listened, the transmitter gripped tightly. No sound. Only static. He walked forward. A claw burrowed out of the ash and raced toward him. It halted a few feet away and then slunk off. A second claw appeared, one of the big ones with feelers. It moved toward him, studied him intently, and then fell in behind him, dogging respectfully after him, a few paces away. A moment later a second big claw joined it. Silently, the claws trailed him, as he walked slowly toward the bunker.

      Hendricks stopped, and behind him, the claws came to a halt. He was close, now. Almost to the bunker steps.

      “Scott! Can you hear me? I’m standing right above you. Outside. On the surface. Are you picking me up?”

      * * * * *

      He waited, holding his gun against his side, the transmitter tightly to his ear. Time passed. He strained to hear, but there was only silence. Silence, and faint static.

      Then, distantly, metallically—

      “This is Scott.”

      The voice was neutral. Cold. He could not identify it. But the earphone was minute.

      “Scott! Listen. I’m standing right above you. I’m on the surface, looking down into the bunker entrance.”

      “Yes.”

      “Can you see me?”

      “Yes.”

      “Through the view sight? You have the sight trained on me?”

      “Yes.”

      Hendricks pondered. A circle of claws waited quietly around him, gray-metal bodies on all sides of him. “Is everything all right in the bunker? Nothing unusual has happened?”

      “Everything is all right.”

      “Will you come up to the surface? I want to see you for a moment.” Hendricks took a deep breath. “Come up here with me. I want to talk to you.”

      “Come down.”

      “I’m giving you an order.”

      Silence.

      “Are you coming?” Hendricks listened. There was no response. “I order you to come to the surface.”

      “Come down.”

      Hendricks set his jaw. “Let me talk to Leone.”

      There was a long pause. He listened to the static. Then a voice came, hard, thin, metallic. The same as the other. “This is Leone.”

      “Hendricks. I’m on the surface. At the bunker entrance. I want one of you to come up here.”

      “Come down.”

      “Why come down? I’m giving you an order!”

      Silence. Hendricks lowered the transmitter. He looked carefully around him. The entrance was just ahead. Almost at his feet. He lowered the antenna and fastened the transmitter to his belt. Carefully, he gripped his gun with both hands. He moved forward, a step at a time. If they could see him they knew he was starting toward the entrance. He closed his eyes a moment.

      Then he put his foot on the first step that led downward.

      Two Davids came up at him, their faces identical and expressionless. He blasted them into particles. More came rushing silently up, a whole pack of them. All exactly the same.

      Hendricks turned and raced back, away from the bunker, back toward the rise.

      At the top of the rise Tasso and Klaus were firing down. The small claws were already streaking up toward them, shining metal spheres going fast, racing frantically through the ash. But he had no time to think about that. He knelt down, aiming at the bunker entrance, gun against his cheek. The Davids were coming out in groups, clutching their teddy bears, their thin knobby legs pumping as they ran up the steps to the surface. Hendricks fired into the main body of them. They burst apart, wheels and springs flying in all directions. He fired again through the mist of particles.

      A giant lumbering figure rose up in the bunker entrance, tall and swaying. Hendricks paused, amazed. A man, a soldier. With one leg, supporting himself with a crutch.

      “Major!” Tasso’s voice came. More firing. The huge figure moved forward, Davids swarming around it. Hendricks broke out of his freeze. The First Variety. The Wounded Soldier.

      He aimed and fired. The soldier burst into bits, parts and relays flying. Now many Davids were out on the flat ground, away from the bunker. He fired again and again, moving slowly back, half-crouching and aiming.

      From the rise, Klaus fired down. The side of the rise was alive with claws making their way up. Hendricks retreated toward the rise, running and crouching. Tasso had left Klaus and was circling slowly to the right, moving away from the rise.

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