The Last Place on Earth | Page 4

to prove
it wasn't there.
The figure raised a gun and pointed it at him.
This time, she was going to shoot him.
It figured.
He always had bad luck.
"Stop!" the woman on the stairs said. "Stop or I'll shoot, Mr. Collins!"
* * * * *
Collins stopped, catching to the bannister. He squinted hard, and as a
stereoptic slide lost its depth when you shut one eye, the woman on the
stairs was no longer his mother. She was young, pretty, brunette and
sweet-faced, and the gun she held shrunk from an old Army Colt to
a .22 target pistol.
"Who are you?" Collins demanded.
The girl took a grip on the gun with both hands and held it steady on

him.
"I'm Nancy Comstock," she said. "You tried to assault my mother a half
hour ago."
"Oh," he said. "I've never seen you before."
"Yes, you have. I've been away to school a lot, but you've seen me
around. I've had my eye on you. I know about men like you. I know
what has to be done. I came looking for you in your house for this."
The bore of the gun was level with his eye as he stood a few steps
below her. Probably if she fired now, she would kill him. Or more
likely he would only be blinded or paralyzed; that was about his luck.
"Are you going to use that gun?" he asked.
"Not unless I have to. I only brought it along for protection. I came to
help you, Mr. Collins."
"Help me?"
"Yes, Mr. Collins. You're sick. You need help."
He looked the girl over. She was a half-dozen years younger than he
was. In most states, she couldn't even vote yet. But still, maybe she
could help, at that. He didn't know much about girls and their abilities.
"Why don't we go into the kitchen and have some coffee?" Collins
suggested.

III
Nancy sipped her coffee and kept her eyes on his. The gun lay in her
lap. The big kitchen was a place for coffee, brown and black, wood
ceiling and iron stove and pans. Collins sat across the twelve square
feet of table from her, and nursed the smoking mug.

"Sam, I want you to take whatever comfort you can from the fact that I
don't think the same thing about you as the rest of Waraxe."
"What does the rest of the town think about me?"
"They think you are a pathological degenerate who should be lynched.
But I don't believe that."
"Thanks. That's a big comfort."
"I know what you were after when you tore Mom's dress."
In spite of himself, Collins felt his face warming in a blush.
"You were only seeking the mother love you missed as a boy," the girl
said.
Collins chewed on his lip a moment, and considered the idea. Slowly
he shook his head.
"No," he said. "No. I don't think so."
"Then what do you think?"
"I think old Doc Candle made me do it. He said he was going to bury
me. Getting me lynched would be one good way to do it. Ed Michaels
almost blew my head off with his shotgun. It was close. Doc Candle
almost made it. He didn't miss by far with you and that target pistol
either."
"Sam--I may call you 'Sam'?--just try to think calmly and reasonably
for a minute. How could Dr. Candle, the undertaker, possibly make you
do a thing like you did in Mr. Michaels' hardware store?"
"Well ... he said he was a superhuman alien from outer space."
"If he said that, do you believe him, Sam?"
"Something made me do that. It just wasn't my own idea."

"It's easier that way, isn't it, Sam?" Nancy asked. "It's easy to say. 'It
wasn't me; some space monster made me do it.' But you really know
better, don't you, Sam? Don't take the easy way out! You'll only get
deeper and deeper into your makebelieve world. It will be like
quicksand. Admit your mistakes--face up to them--lick them."
Collins stood up, and came around the end of the table.
"You're too pretty to be so serious all the time," he said.
* * * * *
"Sam, I want to help you. Please don't spoil it by misinterpreting my
intentions."
"You should get a little fun out of life," Collins listened to himself say.
He came on around the big table towards her.
The first time he hadn't realized what was happening, but this time he
knew. Somebody was pulling strings and making him jump. He had as
much control as Charlie McCarthy.
"Don't come any closer, Sam."
Nancy managed to keep her voice steady, but he could tell she was
frightened.
He took another step.
She