The LAST Gentleman
By Rory Magill
Illustrated by TED SPEICHER
[Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from IF Worlds of ScienceFiction January 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidencethat the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The explosion brought Jim Peters upright in bed. He sat there, leaningback on the heels of his hands, blinking stupidly at the wall. Hisvision cleared and he looked down at Myra, just stirring beside him.Myra opened her eyes.
Jim said, "Did you feel that?"
Myra yawned. "I thought I was dreaming. It was an explosion orsomething, wasn't it?"
Jim's lips set grimly. After ten years of cold war, there was only oneappropriate observation, and he made it. "I guess maybe this is it."
As by common agreement, they got out of bed and pulled on their robes.They went downstairs and out into the warm summer night. Other peoplehad come out of their homes also. Shadowy figures moved and collected inthe darkness.
"Sounded right on top of us."
"I was looking out the window. Didn't see no flash."
"Must have been further away than it seemed."
This last was spoken hopefully, and reflected the mood of all thepeople. Maybe it wasn't the bomb after all.
Oddly, no one had thought to consult a radio. The thought struck them asa group and they broke into single and double units again—hurrying backinto the houses. Lights began coming on here and there.
Jim Peters took Myra's hand, unconsciously, as they hurried up the porchsteps. "Hugh would know," Jim said. "I kind of wish Hugh was here."
Myra laughed lightly—a calculated laugh, meant to disguise the gravityof this terrible thing. "That's not very patriotic, Jim. If that was thebomb, Hugh will be kept busy making other bombs to send back to them."
"But he'd know. I'll bet he could tell just by the sound of it." Jimsmiled quietly in the darkness—proudly. It wasn't everybody who had agenius for a brother. A nuclear scientist didn't happen in every family.Hugh was somebody to be proud of.
They turned on the radio and sat huddled in front of it. The tubeswarmed with maddening slowness. Then there came the deliberatelyimpersonal voice of the announcer:
"—on the strength of reports now in, it appears the enemy bungledbadly. Instead of crippling the nation, they succeeded only in alertingit. The bombs—at this time there appear to have been five of themdropped—formed a straight north-south line across western UnitedStates. One detonated close to the Idaho-Utah line. The other four wereplaced at almost equi-distant points to the south—the fifth bomb,according to first reports, exploding in a Mexican desert. We have beeninformed that Calas, Utah, a town of nine hundred persons, has beencompletely annihilated. For further reports, keep tuned to thisstation."
The fifth "one" exploded in the Mexican desert.
A dance band cut in. Jim got up from his chair. "They certainly didbungle," he said. "Imagine wasting four atom bombs like that."
Myra got up also. "Would you like some coffee?"
"That'd be a good idea. I don't feel like going back to bed. I want tolisten for more reports."
But there were no more reports. An hour passed. Another and another. Jims