She said something I didn’t catch. I shook my head, and she spoke in English. “You give books me so I give your friend?”
That was no help. I asked, “Can I see him?”
She shook her head doubtfully. I heard Rudi’s voice behind her. They had a rapid conversation, and at the end she motioned me to come in.
Rudi said to me, “You cannot see Andy until my father says yes. He is gone to the inn, but back soon. You will wait?”
At least I was inside the house, though not too hopeful of getting further. There was no reason really why I shouldn’t just leave the books, which was what I was fairly sure Rudi’s father was going to tell me to do.
Despite being dubious about letting me in, Frau Graz produced a jug of homemade lemonade and a chocolate cake. She gave Rudi a piece, too. His homework lay open on a table.
I nodded towards it, and said, “Don’t let me stop you.”
He shrugged. “It is Naturwissenschaft. Science, you say? And we end this study soon.”
“End? Why?”
“The chief teacher tells us Naturwissenschaft is not needed anymore. There is no need to learn science now that Tripods rule.”
I could see the reason. Science was a part of independent thinking, and that was over for the human race.
I looked at Rudi. I knew practically nothing about him, but he’d looked worried when we spoke about Andy being Capped. And this was a situation where one had to take chances. His mother was in the kitchen, humming to music from the radio.
I said quietly, “They say the Tripods are our friends—that everything they do is for our good. What do you think?”
He paused. If I’d got it wrong, he would probably report me to his father, which would fix things properly.
But he said at last, “Andy does not wish the Cap?”
I’d gone too far to draw back.
I said, “No. Nor do I. Do you?”
He took a deep breath. “No, I do not wish it. I hate the Cap!”
• • •
There was no problem, Rudi said, about releasing Andy; his father kept duplicate keys in his study. He left the room, and came back with a key which he handed to me.
He said, “To the left, past the back door. I will talk with my mother while you do this.”
It was a kind of shed, but solidly built. I unlocked the door and found a room furnished only with a metal trundle bed. Andy was on his feet as the door opened.
I said quickly, “No time to talk. Rudi’s keeping an eye on his mother. Let’s go.”
He said “Right,” unhesitatingly. I felt good as he followed me through the yard. Pa had said there was nothing we could do, but I’d done it. It didn’t hurt either that this time Andy was doing the following.
Rudi came from the kitchen, calling something back reassuringly. We went through the hall on tiptoe. There was a stuffed bear, guarding an umbrella stand; though moth-eaten, it looked ready to pounce. I pushed a fist into its ribs, and saw dust rise.
Rudi opened the front door a crack, and looked out warily. I was impatient for him to open it fully. Instead he stood back. He looked at me helplessly.
The door was opened from the other side, and Rudi’s father came in. He was wearing his uniform. I thought how much a part of it the Cap seemed.
He took in the scene, and said sharply: “Was beisst das?”
Rudi just stood there. I didn’t know what to do either.
Andy said, “Run for it. Now!”
He charged Rudi’s father, knocking him off balance. As Graz shouted, I got past, but looking back saw that he’d recovered and was holding Rudi. He shouted again, and I saw figures running along the street towards us. Andy was wrestling Graz, trying to free Rudi. I went to help, but Graz’s reinforcements were on us. In a matter of moments we were bundled back inside the house.
• • •
We’d been unlucky, as Rudi explained later. Normally his father went to the inn, had a few steins of beer with his cronies, and came back alone. This time, after he’d talked about the English boy he’d taken into custody, the group had discussed it and come to the conclusion that it was unwise to take chances, especially with a foreigner. The English boy should be Capped right away, and one of those who already had a Cap should surrender it for the purpose. They’d followed Graz back to the house with that in view.
There were five, including Rudi’s father. They restarted their discussion, but it was soon clear they had a problem. They were all agreed on the importance of Andy being Capped, but which of them was to give up his Cap? As they argued, it emerged that no one was willing. Like the people at the airport, they found the thought of being without the Cap intolerable—even temporarily, and even to serve the interests of the Tripods. In the end they reluctantly decided Graz had been right in the first place, and they should wait till the new Caps came in the morning. It was also decided that Rudi and I should be Capped along with Andy.
We were given extra mattresses, and blankets. Frau Graz came in and fussed over Rudi, but didn’t seem bothered about his being locked up; I wondered if that was due to the Cap, or to being Swiss and married to a policeman. When she left I prowled around, looking for means of escape.
Andy said, “I’ve checked. No go.”
“You couldn’t reach the window,” I said, “but if I stood on your back, I could.”
Rudi shook his head. “This will not work. All windows of the house have electric—how do you say—Alarm?”
“Alarm,” Andy said. “I don’t think we can do anything tonight. Did you say they’ll take us to the church to be Capped?”
“Yes. It is Zeremonie. Big show.”
“We might have a chance of making a break then. Meanwhile better grab some sleep. I was here first so I get the bed.”
Andy settled down, and as far as I could tell went to sleep right away. I lay on my mattress, brooding. I didn’t know whether Andy had anything particular in mind in talking of making a break, and I didn’t see we stood a chance anyway, with the entire village against us.
How could he, or anyone, sleep, faced with the prospect of being Capped? I felt I mustn’t waste any of the moments in which my thoughts were still free, and tried to stay awake. But sleep came nevertheless, and in fact I slept heavily. The small square of window was bright when I was wakened by the cell door being unlocked.
• • •
The mail van from Interlaken was due to arrive about nine, and we were to be Capped immediately after that. Frau Graz produced a large breakfast, and though I thought I wouldn’t be able to eat, the smell of ham and eggs convinced me otherwise. She was quite pleased Rudi was to be Capped in advance of his birthday, and told us how much better for it we would all feel. Her sister, Hedwig, who suffered from depression, had cheered up as soon as she put the Cap on, and her own rheumatism had been much less painful.
She broke off to answer the door. On the kitchen wall a pendulum clock of dark wood painted with flowers indicated eight thirty. Graz and another man were in the room with us. I was again aware how hopeless our chances were. Then I recognized the voice speaking to Frau Graz. I stood up quickly as she came back, with Pa following her.
He was wearing one of the Caps we’d used in the hijack.
He looked at me sternly, and said to Graz, “I am sorry to hear my son has behaved badly. I will take him home and punish him.”
Herr Graz shifted comfortably in his seat. “It is not necessary. He will be Capped this morning. After that he will not do wrong things.”
“He should be punished,” Pa said. “It is my right, as his father.”
After a pause, Graz said, “A father has rights, that is true. You can beat him if you wish.”
Pa glanced at Andy. “This other is also in my care. I will punish him, too.”
Graz nodded. “That is permitted.”
“So I’ll take them both back to the gasthaus.”
Graz raised his hand. “No. You shall beat them here. Outside in the yard. I have
a strap you can use.”
I wasn’t surprised it hadn’t worked. Like my effort with the books, it was a bit thin. But I was sure Pa would have something else to fall back on. I sat there almost smugly, waiting for him to produce an argument which would flatten this stupid Swiss policeman. I was shattered when he finally did speak.
“All right. But I will get my own strap.”
He turned away, not looking at me. I couldn’t believe he was leaving us.
I called after him, “We’re being Capped this morning. Soon.”
He went out without answering, and I heard the front door close. Frau Graz bustled up, offering us rolls and cherry jam and more coffee, while her husband loaded a nasty-smelling pipe. The other man yawned and picked his teeth. I couldn’t look at Andy.
If he’d not come at all, it wouldn’t have been so bad. I’d let myself in for this and must take the consequences. But he had come, with that feeble excuse about punishing us, and then given in and left when Graz called his bluff. He was going back to the gasthaus, to Ilse and Angela. He’d protect them, all right. I felt as I’d done the time he came out to play football, and I kicked his shins. Only worse; this time I knew I hated him.
I went so far as to think of a way of getting even, a better way than kicking. All I had to do was tell Graz about the fake Caps. The Tripods could have him, too, and Ilse, and Angela—everyone. I started to say it: “Herr Graz . . .” He looked up from his pipe.
“What is it, boy?”
I shook my head, feeling sick. “Nothing.”
It seemed a long time before the doorbell rang again, though in fact it was only minutes. Frau Graz went to answer it, sighing with exasperation. When I heard Pa’s voice, and even when he came into the kitchen, I felt numb. I wasn’t going to start hoping again. I didn’t even look at him, until Graz gave a grunt of surprise and dropped his pipe with a clatter on the table.
Frau Graz stood by the kitchen door, looking agitated. Yone was there, too; and Pa was holding Yone’s shotgun.
• • •
As a good Swiss housewife, Frau Graz kept a pile of clean tea towels in a cupboard beside the sink, and they came in handy as gags. She thought this was a robbery—it made no sense to her that anyone should use force to prevent someone being Capped—and started gabbling about where the family valuables were kept. I gagged her into silence, avoiding her reproachful looks. Pa and Yone had dealt with the men, and Pa approached Rudi.
I said, “No. He helped us. He doesn’t want to be Capped, either.”
“We can’t take chances. If the alarm’s raised—”
“Rudi,” I said, “tell him you want to come with us.”
“Yes.” He nodded. “Please. I hate the Cap.”
“It’s too risky.”
I didn’t want to argue. I felt bad about the way I’d felt when he went to get Yone. But I couldn’t accept this decision any more than the one over Andy.
I said flatly, “You’ve got to let him come.”
Pa looked at me. He shrugged, with a little smile.
“All right. You keep an eye on him.”
As we left the house, a passing villager exchanged greetings with Yone. I wondered how long we had before an alarm was raised. Less than half an hour, certainly. If Graz wasn’t there to meet the mail van, they would come looking for him.
We squeezed into the Suzuki, and Pa drove off, revving hard. We found Ilse outside the gasthaus, struggling with a bulging backpack, and Martha came out with another. Ilse’s face was blotchy, as though she’d been crying.
Martha said, “You’ve got them.”
She tried to make it sound ordinary, but there was a tremor in her voice as she looked at Pa. She’d always bossed him, but he was her son, as I was his. She wiped her face with the sleeve of her dress. “We’re just about ready.”
I remembered the other reason for wanting more time and asked, “What about the Swigramp?”
Pa took the pack from Ilse, and heaved on the strap. Over his shoulder he said, “He died, in the night.”
I looked down into the valley. People still died; the Tripods and Capping made no difference to that. And others had to go on. Far below I could see a section of the road that wound upwards from Interlaken. A yellow spot was crawling there: the mail van was on its way.
The first part of the route led higher up the mountain by way of a rough track, which deteriorated and eventually disappeared. It wasn’t easy going, in places very hard. Martha and Ilse tackled it well, but the Swigram was soon gasping and we were forced to slow down. We lost sight of the gasthaus, and for a time our only view was of the steeply climbing rocky slope and an ominous gray sky beyond. The wind was northeast, razor-edged. Yone thought there would be snow before nightfall.
A halt was called where there was a patch of level ground. The gasthaus was once more in view, and Yone pointed down. There were three cars outside the house, apart from the Suzuki. Pa scanned the scene with field glasses which had belonged to the Swigramp.
When I had a chance to look, I found they were so heavy it wasn’t easy to hold them steady, but the magnification was good. I recognized Graz. There were seven or eight men altogether.
Smoke rose from the gasthaus chimney, as it did all the year round—even in summer the big wood-burning range was in use, for cooking. But the smoke looked thicker than usual and was coming not only from the chimney but one of the bedroom windows as well.
Fire wastes no time in sweeping through a wooden building, and in seconds we could all see it. I heard the Swigram moan as the smoke’s blackness was shot with flame.
Holding her mother, Ilse said to Pa, “Why? To destruct a house like that . . . only because we refuse the Caps?”
“I don’t know,” Pa said. “To prevent us going back there, perhaps. To discourage anyone else from defying the Tripods. One thing we can be sure of: neither pity nor mercy are going to come into it. They believe what the Tripods tell them, and as far as the Tripods are concerned we are nothing but a nuisance. Like rats.”
Andy said, “I read somewhere that by trying to kill them, men have actually improved the intelligence of rats.”
“Yes,” Pa said, “I read that, too. Rats have lived close to man for thousands of years. Every one we managed to kill improved the breeding stock, because the brighter rats survived and reproduced. Maybe we’re going to have to take a leaf out of their book.”
Ilse said, “They must have found his body.” She was speaking of the Swigramp. “But they did not bring it out, for burial.”
“No.” She still had an arm round her mother, and he put his out to embrace them both. “But it doesn’t matter, does it? It was his home for nearly sixty years. No one could want a better funeral pyre.”
We resumed our trek. Having led exhaustingly upwards, the route changed to lead down even more steeply. It was wild, jagged country, with no sign of human beings or anything connected with them. We saw a group of chamois, the local deer, leaping from crag to crag, and an eagle soared close to one of the crags above.
The Swigram needed to rest a lot. Pa and Yone, and then Andy and I, took turns helping to support her. She apologized for the trouble, and said we should leave her.
Pa said, “Just take it slowly, Mutti. We have plenty of time. And no one’s going to leave you. We can’t spare you. We can’t spare anyone. There are too few of us.”
At last we reached a more gentle slope and could see the little railway station of Kleine Scheidegg, the last stop for the cogwheel train before it entered the tunnel. As Yone had predicted, it was deserted. Tourism was a thing of the past, along with parliaments and television chat shows, universities and churches, human disorder and human freedom. The station shop, which had sold chocolate and maps and silly souvenirs, was boarded up, and the last train stood unmanned and covered with snow.
At this altitude there was deep-packed snow all round, and the tail of a glacier close to the tunnel mouth. It was late afternoon. The sky was a deepening melancholy gra
y, the whole landscape barren and wretched. As we toiled up the last few hundred meters it began to snow, in huge relentless flakes. I felt cold and miserable and hopeless.
TEN
I found the notebooks in which I’m writing this in the hotel; they were order books used by the restaurant manager, some partly filled with lists—20 kg Blumenkohl, 1 Kiste Kaffee, 45 kg Kartoffeln—“cauliflower, coffee and potatoes”—that sort of thing.
That was about a week after coming here. I’d thought the journey through the tunnel by train tedious, but it was much more so on foot. It was nearly five hours before Pa’s flashlight lit up the platform sign, JUNGFRAUJOCH. Minutes later we stepped out into a dazzling landscape of snow and ice, with the frozen river of a glacier stretched into hazy distance, surrounded by high white peaks. All was empty and lifeless: no animals, no birds, not even an insect. But no people, either, except for ourselves . . . and no Tripods. We stood on the cold roof of the world, rulers—for what it was worth—of all we surveyed.
The purpose of this journey through the tunnel was to see if provisions had been left here, and we struck lucky. The hotel had kept good reserve stocks, apparently against the possibility of the rail line being blocked in winter. There were shelves loaded with cans, bags of flour and sugar, beans and dried fruits and rice. There were even deep-freeze cabinets whose contents, because of the below-zero temperature at this altitude, had stayed frozen after the electricity supply was cut off.
Flashlights and batteries were an important find. We only had two from the gasthaus, which we’d had to keep switching on and off to conserve power, and there were enough in the hotel, in vacuum-sealed packs, to last years. We found candles and oil lamps, too, and drums of fuel.
In a siding at the station there was a diesel coach with a charged battery, and after Pa had experimented with the controls we loaded it for the return journey. While he and Yone were making final checks, I showed Andy some of the things I’d seen when I was there before, including a room filled with ice statues. He was fascinated by a life-size ice motorcar, and pointed out it must have been carved more than seventy years ago because it was a model of an early Ford. I thought of how much things like motorcars and airplanes had changed in those seventy years. It was as though mankind had been a surfboarder, riding a high wave of invention. Who could tell what wonders might still have lain ahead? But now, thanks to the Tripods, it had all ended.