Astounding Science Fiction, February 1952 (British Edition) — page 33: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

30 ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION “What is it, Bat Ears?” Warren asked. “Something I cooked up,” said Bat Ears. “Something that you need.” Warren lifted the cup and gulped it down. It burned its way clear into his stomach, set his throat afire and exploded in his head. “Potatoes,” said Bat Ears. “Spuds make powerful stuff. The Irish found that out, years and years ago.” He took the cup. from Warren, dipped it again and handed it to Barnes. The chaplain hesitated. Bat Ears shouted at him. “Drink it, man. It'll put some heart in you.” The minister drank, choked, set the cup back on the table empty. - “They're back again,” said Bat Ears. “Who’s back?” asked Warren. “The natives,” said Bat EHars. “All around wus, waiting for the end of us.” He disdained the cup, lifted the pail in both his hands and put it to his lips. Some of the liquor splashed out of the corners of his mouth and ran darkly down his shirt. He put the pail back on the table, wiped his mouth with a hairy fist. “They might at least be decent about it,’ he declared. “They might at least keep out of sight until it is all over. Caught one sneaking out of Falkner’s tent. Old gray buck. Tried to catch him, but he outlegged me.” “Falkner’s tent?” “Sure. Snooping around before a man is dead. Not even waiting till he’s gone. Didn’t take nothing, though, I guess. Falkner was asleep. Didn’t even wake him.” “Asleep? You sure?” “Sure,” said Bat Ears. “Breathing natural. I’m going to unsling my gun and pick off a few of them, just for luck. VU teach them—” “Mr. Brady,” asked Barnes, “you are certain Falkner was sleeping naturally? Not in a coma? Not dead?” “I know when a man is dead,” yelled Bat Ears. Jones and Webster died during the night. Warren found Bat Ears in the morning, collapsed beside his stone-cold stove, the empty liquor pail beside him. At first he thought the cook was only drunk and then he saw the signs upon him. He hauled him across the floor and boosted him onto his cot, then went out to find the chaplain. He found him in the cemetery, wielding a shovel, his hands red with broken blisters. “It won’t be deep,” said Mr. Barnes, “but it will cover them. It’s the best that I can do.” 3 “Bat Ears has it,” Warren told him. The chaplain leaned on his shovel, breathing a little hard from digging. “Queer,” he said. “Queer, to think of him. Of big, brawling Bat Ears. He was a tower of strength.” Warren reached for the shovel. “T’ll finish this,” he said, “if youll go down and get them ready. I cant... I haven’t the heart to handle them.” — The chaplain handed over the shovel. “It's. funny,” he said, “about young Falkner.” “You said yesterday he was a little better. You imagined it?” Barnes shook his head. “I was in to see him. He’s awake and lucid and his tem- perature is down.” They stared at one another for a long time, each trying to hide the hope that might be upon his face. “Do you think—” “No, I don’t,” said Barnes. But Falkner continued to improve. Three days later he was sitting up.~Six days later he stood with the other two beside the grave when they buried Bat Ears. And there were three of them. Three out of twenty-six. The chaplain closed his book and put it in his pocket. Warren took up the shovel and shoveled in the dirt. The other two watched him silently as he filled the grave, slowly, deliberately, taking his time, for there was no other task to hurry him— filled it and mounded it and shaped it neat and smooth with gentle shovel pats. Then the three of them went down the slope together, not arm in arm, but close enough to have been arm in arm—back to the white tents of the camp. Still they did not talk. It was as if they understood for the moment the dedicatory value of the silence that lay upon the land and upon the camp and the three that were left out of twenty- SIX. Falkner said: “There is nothing strange about me. Nothing different than any other man.” | “There must be,” insisted Warren. “You survived the virus. It hit you and you came out alive. There must be a reason for it.” “You two,” said Falkner, “never even got it. There must be some reason for that, too.” Eomichooks.com