Illustrated by Ed EmshWhat is more frighteningthan the fear of the unknown?Johnny found out!
SOUND OF
TERROR
BY DON BERRY
The day was still no morethan a ragged streak of red inthe east; the pre-dawn air wassharply cold, making JohnnyYoungbear's face feel slightly brittleas he dressed quietly in the graybedroom.
He sat down on the bed, pullingon his boots, and felt his wife stirsleepily beneath the covers. Suddenlyshe stiffened, sat upright inthe bed, startled into wakefulness.Johnny put one dark, bony handon her white shoulder, gently, reassuring.After a moment, findingherself, she turned away and lit acigarette. Johnny finished pullingon his boots and stood, his hawk-likeface unreadable in the coldgray light streaming through thehuge picture window.
"Johnny?" said his wife hesitantly.
He murmured an acknowledgement,watching the bright flare ofcolor as she drew on the cigarette.Her soft, dark hair was coiled looselyaround her shoulders, very blackagainst the pale skin. Her eyes wereinvisible in shadow, and Johnnycould not read their expression. Heturned away, knowing she waswatching him.
"Be careful," she said simply.
"Try," he said. Then heshrugged. "Not my day, anyway."
"I know," she said. "But—becareful."
He left the house and walked outinto the chill desert dawn. Heturned his face to the brightness inthe east, trying to catch a littlewarmth, but could not.
He warmed up the jeep, listeningto the engine grumble protestuntil it settled to a flat, bangingroar. He swerved out of the drivewaywith a screaming of tires.Reaching the long ribbon of concretethat led out into the desert,he settled down hard on the accelerator,indifferent to the whiningcomplaint of the jeep's motor.
It was eight miles from hissprawling house to the Mesa DryLake launching site, due east, intothe sun. He pulled to the top of SixMile Hill and stopped in the middleof the highway. Two miles aheadwas Launching Base I, throwinglong, sharp shadows at him in therosy dawn light. A cluster of squat,gray blockhouses; a long runwaytapering into the distance with anAir Force B-52 motionless at thenear end; that was all.
Except the Ship.
The Ship towered high, dominatingthe desert like a pinnacle ofbright silver. Even silhouettedagainst the eastern sky, it sparkledand glistened. Impassive it stood,graceful, seeming to strain into thesky, anxious to be off and gone. Theloading gantry was a dark, spideryframework beside The Ship, leaningagainst it, drawing strengthfrom its sleek beauty.
Johnny watched it in silence fora moment, then turned his eyes up,to the sky. Somewhere up there atiny satellite spun wildly about theearth, a little silver ball in somecelestial roulette wheel. Graduallyit would spiral closer and closer,caught by the planet's implacablegrasp, until it flared brightly like acigarette in the heavens before dissolvinginto drops of molten metal.
But it would have served its purpose.In its short life it would havegiven Man knowledge; knowledgeof space, knowledge enough that hecould go himself, knowing what hewould find in the emptiness betweenthe earth and the moon. Orknowing nearly.
What's it like out there?
The satellite answered partly;the Ship would answer more.
Johnny slammed the jeep intogear, hurtled down the other sideof Six Mile Hill. Through his mindran the insistent repetition of an old