Farnham’s Freehold By Robert A. Heinlein

“My feet are all right. Feel.”

“Maybe we’ll take turns wearing them. Then I have to break a lock on a delivery door but I spotted some steel bars a week ago which ought still to be there. Anyhow, I’ll break out. Then away we go, fast. It should be breakfast before we are missed, sometime after that before they are sure we are gone, still longer before a chase is organized., We’ll make it.”

“Sure we will.”

“Just one thing- If I reach for my robe and then close the lid on you, you stay here. Don’t make a sound, don’t try to peek out.”

“I won’t.”

“I might be gone an hour. I might fake a bellyache and have to see the vet, then come back when I can.”

“All right.”

“Barbara, it might be twenty-four hours, if anything goes wrong. Can you stay here and keep the twins quiet that long? If you must?”

“Whatever it takes, Hugh.”

He kissed her. “Now put the light back in your mouth and close your lips. I’m going to sneak a peek.”

He raised the lid an inch, lowered it. “In luck,” he whispered. “Even the standing light is out. Here I go. Be ready to hand things up. Joey first. And don’t show a light.”

He pushed the lid up and flat down without a sound, raised himself, got his feet to the corridor floor, stood up.

A light hit him. “That’s far enough,” a dry voice said, “Don’t move.”

He kicked the whip hand so fast that the whip flew aside as he closed. Then this-and that!-and sure enough! The man’s neck was broken, just as the book said it would be.

Instantly he knelt down. “Everything out! Fast!”

Barbara shoved baby and baggage up to him, was out fast as he took her hand. “Some light,” he whispered. “His went out and I’ve got to dispose of him.” She gave him light. Memtok- Hugh quelled his surprise, stuffed the body down the hole, closed the lid. Barbara was ready, baby on back, baby in left arm, bundle in right. “We go on! Stay close on my heels!” He set out for the intersection, holding his course in the dark by fingertips on the wall.

He never saw the whip that got him. All he knew was the pain.

Chapter 20

For a long time Mr. Hugh Farnham was aware of nothing but pain. When it eased off, he found that he was in a confinement cell like the one in which he had lived his first days under the Protectorate.

He was there three days. He thought it was three days, as he was fed six times. He always knew when they were about to feed him-and to empty his slop jar, for he was not taken outside for any purpose. He would find himself restrained by invisible spider web, then someone would come inside, leave food, replace the slop jar, and go. It was impossible to get the servant who did this to answer him.

After what may have been three days he found himself unexpectedly caught up by that prisoning field (he had just been fed) and his old colleague and “cousin” the Chief Veterinary came in. Hugh had more than a suspicion as to why; his feeling amounted to a conviction, so he pleaded, demanded to be taken to the Lord Protector, and finally shouted.

The surgeon ignored it. He did something to Hugh’s thigh, then left.

To Hugh’s limited relief he did not become unconscious, but he found, when the tanglefoot field let up, that he could not move anyhow and felt lethargic. Shortly two servants came in, picked him up, placed him in a box like a coffin.

Hugh found that he was being shipped somewhere. His shipping case was given casual but not rough handling; once he felt a lift surge and then surge to a stop; his box was placed in something; and some minutes, hours, or days later it was moved again; and presently he was dumped into another confinement room. He knew it was a different one; the walls were light green instead of white. By the time they fed him he had recovered and was again “tangled” while food was placed inside.