Chapter 18. _Witchcraft_
Three days later, Mayor Hilliard died. It was on the same day thatMaria's mother was buried.
Maria had watched her mother day and night, losing strength and finallylapsing into a coma from which she never emerged.
Maria and her father did their best to control their grief, to see it asonly another part of the immense reservoir of grief all about them. Whenthey were alone in their section of the house they gave way to the lossand the loneliness they felt.
There were no burial services. The deaths had mounted to at least ascore daily. No coffins were available. Each family dug its own shallowgraves in the frozen ground of the cemetery. Sheriff Johnson posted mento help, and to see that graves were at least deep enough to cover thebodies. Beyond this, nothing more could be done. Only Dr. Aylesworthcame daily to hold prayer services. It was little enough to do, but itwas all there was left for him.
When the death of Mayor Hilliard became known, Sheriff Johnson called animmediate session of the councilmen and announced himself as Hilliard'ssuccessor. Visitors were invited, and Professor Maddox thought it ofsufficient importance to attend.
The tension in the air was heavy as the group sat in thick coats in theunheated hall. Johnson spoke without preliminaries. "There are some ofyou who won't like this," he said. "Our town charter calls for anemergency election in case of the Mayor's death, and some of you thinkwe should have one now.
"So do those out there." He waved a hand toward the window and the townbeyond. "However, we're not going to have an election, and I'll tell youwhy. I know the man who would win it and you do, too. Frank Meggs.
"He hated Hilliard, he hates us, and he hates this town, and he'll doeverything in his power to destroy it. Today he would win an election ifit were held. He's used the discomfort of the people to stir them to afrenzy against Hilliard's policy of protection for College Hill. He'llstir them up against anything that means a sacrifice of present safetyfor long-range survival. Meggs is a dangerous man.
"Maybe this isn't the way it ought to be done, but I don't know anyother way. When this is all over there will be time enough forelections, and if I don't step down you can shoot me or run me out ofthe country or anything else you like. For the time being, though, thisis the way things are going to be. It's what Hilliard wanted, and I'vegot his written word if any of you care to see it."
He looked about challengingly. There was a scuffling of feet. Somecouncilmen looked at their neighbors and back again to the Sheriff. Nonestood up to speak, nor did any of the visitors voice objections,although several of Frank Meggs' lieutenants were in the group.
"We'll carry on, then," Sheriff Johnson said, "just as before. Foodrations will remain as they are. We don't know how many of us there willbe after this epidemic is over. Maybe none of us will be here byspring; we can only wait and see."
Although his assumption of power was accepted docilely by the Council,it sparked a furor among the populace of Mayfield. Frank Meggs fanned itwith all the strength of his hatred for the town and all it stood for.
Granny Wicks' fortunetelling business continued to grow. Considerationshad been given to the desirability of putting a stop to it, but thiswould have meant literally imprisoning her, and, it was reasoned, thiswould stir up more fire than it would put out.
Her glory was supreme as she sat in an old rocker in the cottage whereshe lived. Lines of visitors waited all day at her door. Inside, she waswrapped in a blanket and wore an ancient shawl on her head against thecold of the faintly heated room. She cackled in her high-pitched voicewith hysterical glee.
To those who came, her words were solemn pronouncements of eternaltruth. To anyone else it would have been sheer mumbo jumbo, but herbelievers went away in ecstasy after carefully copying her words. Theyspent hours at home trying to read great meanings into her senilenonsense.
It was quite a time before Frank Meggs realized the power that lay inthe old woman, and he berated himself for not recognizing it earlier.When he finally did go to see her, he was not disappointed. It was easyto understand how she, with her ancient, wrinkled face and deep-blackeyes, could be confused with a source of prophecy and wisdom in thesetimes of death and terror.
"I want to lead this people, Granny," he said, after she had bade himsit down. "Tell me what to do."
She snorted and eyed him sharply. "What makes you think you can leadthis people?" she demanded.
"Because I see they have been led into disaster by selfish, ignorantfools," said Frank Meggs; "men who believe that in the laboratories onthe hill there can be found a way to dispel the power of the greatcomet. Because they believe this, they have persecuted the people. Theyhave taken their food and have given it to the scientists. They haveprotected them, and them alone, from the disease that sickens us.
"You do not believe these men can overcome the power of the comet, doyou, Granny?"
Wild flame leaped in the old woman's eyes. "Nothing can overwhelm thepower of this heavenly messenger! Death shall come to all who attemptsuch blasphemy!"
"Then you will give your blessing to my struggle to release the peoplefrom this bondage?"
"Yes!" Granny Wicks spoke with quivering intensity. "You are the man Ihave been waiting for. I can see it now! You are appointed by the starsthemselves!
"I prophesy that you shall succeed and drive out those who dare triflewith the heavens. Go with my blessings, Frank Meggs, and do your greatwork!"
Elation filled him as he left the house. It was certain that GrannyWicks would pass the word of his "appointment" to all who came to heraudience chamber. The way things were going, it looked as if that wouldbe nine-tenths of the people in Mayfield.
The occupation of the Mayor's chair by Sheriff Johnson gave Frank Meggsa further opening that he wanted. The crowds grew at his torchlightharangues. Even though one-third of the population lay ill with the flu,the night meetings went on.
"Sheriff Johnson has no right to the office he holds," he screamed. Hisappreciative audience huddled in their miserable coldness and howledtheir agreement.
"This is not the way things should be done. Our charter calls for anelection but when will there be an election? My friends, our goodSheriff is not the real villain in this matter. He is but the tool andthe dupe of a clever and crafty group who, through him, are the realholders of power and privilege in this town.
"While we have starved, they have been fed in plenty; while we have beencold, they have sat before their warm fires; while we sicken and die ofdisease, they are immune because the only supply of vaccine in thiswhole valley was used by them.
"You know who I am talking about! The scientists who would like to ruleus, like kings, from the top of College Hill!
"They tell us the comet is responsible for this trouble. But we knowdifferent. Who has been responsible for all the trouble the world hasknown for ages? Science and scientists! The world was once a clean,decent place to live. They have all but destroyed it with their unholyexperiments and twistings of nature.
"They've always admitted their atom experiments would make monsters offuture generations of men, but they didn't care about that! Now they'refrightened because they didn't know these experiments would also destroythe machines on which they had forced us to be dependent. They try tosay it is the comet.
"Well, the world would have been better off without their machines inthe first place. It would have been better off without them. Now we'vegot a chance to be free of them at last! Are we going to endure theirtyranny from College Hill any longer?"
Night after night, he repeated his words, and the crowds howled theirapproval.
On College Hill, morale and optimism were at their highest peak sincethe appearance of the comet. On the roof of Science Hall there was beingerected a massive, 30-foot, hyperbolic reflector whose metal surface hadbeen beaten out of aluminum chicken-shed roofs. At its center, and atintervals about the bowl, there projected a series of supersonicgenerating units, spaced for proper phasing with one another in beami
nga concentrated wave of supersonic energy skyward.
Power to this unit was supplied by a motor generator set constructed ofdecontaminated parts, which had been operating for a full week withoutsign of breakdown.
Ken and his companions had worked day and night on the roughconstruction, while the scientists had designed and built the criticalsupersonic generating equipment. In a solid, 24-hour shift ofuninterrupted work they had mounted and tested the units. It wascompleted on their second day of work. Tomorrow it would be turned onfor a full week's run to test the practicability of such a method ofprecipitating the comet dust.
Laboratory tests had shown it could be done on a small scale. Thisprojector was a pilot model to determine whether it would be worthwhilebuilding a full-size machine with a reflector 250 feet in diameter.
Ken's father looked completely exhausted, but his smile was broader thanit had been for many weeks. "I'm confident we will prove thepracticability of this machine," he said. "After that, we will build areally big one, and we'll tell the rest of the world how to do it. Idon't know how long it will take, but this will do the job. We'll getthem to build big ones in Tokyo and Pasadena and Stockholm, whereverthere's civilization enough to know how to do it; they can decontaminatetheir own metals and build new engines that will run as long asnecessary. We've got the comet on the run!"
He hadn't meant to give a speech, but he couldn't help it. They wereright, and their staggering labors were nearly over, in this phase, atleast.
* * * * *
They slept from exhaustion that night. Ken was awakened in theearly-morning hours by the glare in his bedroom window. He sat up andlooked out. It seemed to be a very long time before he could let hismind admit what his eyes saw.
Science Hall was in flames, the entire structure a mass of leaping,boiling fire.
Ken ran from his room, crying the alarm.
In their separate rooms, his father and Dr. Larsen stared stupidly atthe flickering light as if also unable to comprehend the vastness of theruin. In frenzy of haste, they donned their clothes and ran from theirrooms.
Maria was awake as was Mrs. Maddox. "What is it?" they called. Thenthey, too, saw the flames through the windows.
The men ran from the house, hatless, their tousled hair flying in thenight. Halfway up the hill, Ken called to his father, "You've got tostop, Dad! Don't run like that!"
Professor Maddox came to a halt, his breath bursting from him in greatgasps. Ken said, "There's nothing we can do, Dad."
Dr. Larsen stopped beside them. "Nothing except watch," he agreed.
Slowly, they resumed their way. Behind, they heard the sounds of othersattracted by the fire. As they came at last to the brow of the hill, Kenpointed in astonishment. "There's a crowd of people over there! Near theburning building!"
He started forward. A shot burst in the night, and a bullet clipped thetree over his head. He dropped to the ground. "Get down! They're firingat us!"
As they lay prone, sickness crept through them simultaneously. "I knowwho it is," Ken cried. "Frank Meggs. That crazy Frank Meggs! He's got amob together and fired the college buildings!"
In agony of spirit they crawled to the safety of the slope below thebrow of the hill. "We've got to go after Sheriff Johnson," said Ken."We've got to fight again; we've got to fight all over again!"
Dr. Larsen watched the fire in hypnotic fascination. "All gone," hewhispered. "Everything we've done; everything we've built. Our records,our notes. There's nothing left at all."
They moved down the hill, cautioning others about the mob. SheriffJohnson was already starting up as they reached the bottom. Quickly,they told him what they'd found at the top. "We shouldn't let the mobget off the hill," said Ken. "If we do, we'll never know which ones tookpart."
"There are as many down here who would like to be up there," saidJohnson. "You can be sure of that. We don't know who we can trust anymore. Get your science club boys together and find as many patrolmen aspossible. Ask each one to get fifteen men he thinks he can trust andmeet here an hour from now. If we can do it in that time we may stand achance of corralling them. Otherwise, we'll never have a chance atthem."
"We can try," said Ken.
By now, others had been fired upon and driven back, so that thesituation was apparent to everyone. A great many townspeople, most ofthose well enough to leave their houses, were streaming toward CollegeHill.
It would be futile to try to find the patrolmen at their own homes, Kenknew. They'd be coming this way, too. He soon found Joe Walton and AlMiner. They mingled in the crowd, calling out for other members of theclub. Within minutes, all but two had been found. Word was passed tothem to carry out the Sheriff's instructions.
It was easier than they anticipated. Within 20 minutes a dozen officershad been given the word to find their men. At the end of the hour theywere gathered and ready for the advance.
The spectators had been driven back. The armed men fanned out to coverthe entire hill in a slowly advancing line. They dwindled and becamesilhouettes against the flames.
At the top, Sheriff Johnson called out to the mob through an improvisedmegaphone. "Give up your arms and come forward with your hands up!" hecried. "In 10 seconds we start shooting!"
His command was answered by howls of derision. It was like the cries ofmaniacs, and their drifted words sounded like, "Kill the scientists!"
Bullets accompanied the shouts and howls. The Sheriff's men took coverand began a slow and painful advance.
There could be a thousand mobbers on top of the hill, Ken thought. TheSheriff's men might be outnumbered several times over. He wondered ifthey ought to try to get reinforcements, and decided against it unlessword should be sent down from the top.
There was no way of telling how the battle was going. Gunfire wascontinuous. A freezing wind had come up and swept over the length of thevalley and over those who waited and those who fought. It fanned theflames to volcanic fury.
Ken touched his father's arm. "There's no use for you to stay in thiscold," he said. "You ought to go back to the house."
"I've got to know how it comes out up there, who wins."
The cold starlight of the clear sky began to fade. As dawn approached,the flames in the college buildings had burned themselves out. But thegunfire continued almost without letup. Then, almost as quickly as ithad started, it died.
After a time, figures appeared on the brow of the hill and came down ina weary procession. Sheriff Johnson led them. He stopped at the bottomof the hill.
"Was it Meggs?" Ken asked. "Did you get Frank Meggs?"
"He fell in the first 10 minutes," said Johnson. "It wasn't reallyMeggs keeping them going at all. They had a witch up there. As long asshe was alive nothing would stop them."
"Granny Wicks! Was she up there?"
"Sitting on a kind of throne they'd made for her out of an old rockingchair. Right in the middle of the whole thing."
"Did she finally get shot?"
Sheriff Johnson shook his head. "She was a witch, a real, live witch.Bullets wouldn't touch her. The west wall of Science Hall collapsed andburied her. That's when they gave up.
"So maybe you can say you won, after all," he said to Professor Maddox."It's a kind of symbol, anyway, don't you think?"