There was a sharp knock on the door and the room was silent. Molly’s needles stopped, and the Mayor’s outstretched hand remained in the air. Tom, scratching his ear, left his hand there and stopped scratching. Everyone in the room was motionless. Every eye was turned toward the door. Then, first faintly and then growing louder, there came the tramp of the patrol, the squeak of their boots in the snow, and the sound of their talking as they went by. They passed the door and their footsteps disappeared in the distance. There was a second tap on the door. And in the room the people relaxed.
Orden said, “It must be cold out there for Annie.” He took up his coat from the couch and opened the inner door and handed his coat through. “Put this around your shoulders, Annie,” he said and closed the door.
“I don’t know what I’d do without her,” he said.. “She gets everywhere, she sees and hears everything.”
Tom said, “We should be going pretty soon, sir.”
And Winter said, “I wish you’d forget about Mr. Corell.”
“We can’t. It isn’t good to see him in the streets.” He looked inquiringly at Mayor Orden.
Orden began slowly. “I want to speak simply. This is a little town. Justice and injustice are in terms of little things. Your brother’s shot and Alex Morden’s shot. Revenge against a traitor. The people are angry and they have no way to fight back. But it’s all in little terms. It’s people against people, not idea against idea.”
Winter said, “It’s funny for a doctor to think of destruction, but I think all invaded people want to resist. We are disarmed; our spirits and bodies aren’t enough. The spirit of a disarmed man sinks.”
Will Anders asked, “What’s all this for, sir? What do you want of us?”
“We want to fight them and we can’t,” Orden said. “They’re using hunger on the people now. Hunger brings weakness. You boys are sailing for England. Maybe nobody will listen to you, but tell them from us—from a small town—to give us weapons.”
Tom asked, “You want guns?”
Again there was a quick knock on the door and the people froze where they were, and from outside there came the sound of the patrol, but at double step, running. Will moved quickly toward the door. The running steps came abreast of the house. There were muffled orders and the patrol ran by, and there was a second tap at the door.
Molly said, “They must be after somebody. I wonder who this time.”
“We should be going,” Tom said uneasily. “Do you want guns, sir? Shall we ask for guns?”
“No, tell them how it is. We are watched. Any move we make calls for reprisal. If we could have simple, secret weapons, weapons of stealth, explosives, dynamite to blow up rails, grenades, if possible, even poison.” He spoke angrily. “This is no honorable war. This is a war of treachery and murder. Let us use the methods that have been used on us! Let the British bombers drop their big bombs on the works, but let them also drop us little bombs to use, to hide, to slip under the rails, water tanks. Then we will be armed, secretly armed. Then the invaders will never know which of us is armed. Let the bombers bring us simple weapons. We will know how to use them!”
Winter broke in. “They’ll never know where it will strike. The soldiers, the patrol, will never know which of us is armed.”
Tom wiped his forehead, “If we get through, we’ll tell them, sir, but—well, I’ve heard it said that in England there are still men in power who do not dare to put weapons in the hands of common people.”
Orden stared at him. “Oh! I hadn’t thought of that. Well, we can only see. If such people still govern England and America, the world is lost, anyway. Tell them what we say, if they will listen. We must have help, but if we get it”—his face grew every hard—“if we get it, we will help ourselves.”
Winter said, “If they will even give us dynamite to hide, to bury in the ground to be ready against need, then the invader can never rest again, never! We will blow up his supplies.”
The room grew excited. Molly said fiercely, “Yes, we could fight his rest, then. We could fight his sleep. We could fight his nerves and his certainties.”
Will asked quietly, “Is that all, sir?”
“Yes.” Orden nodded. “That’s the core of it.”
“What if they won’t listen?”
“You can only try, as you are trying the sea tonight.”
“Is that all, sir?”
The door opened and Annie came quietly in. Orden went on, “That’s all. If you have to go now, let me send Annie out to see that the way is clear.” He looked up and saw that Annie had come in. Annie said, “There’s a soldier coming up the path. He looks like the soldier that was here before. There was a soldier here with Molly before.”
The others looked at Molly. Annie said, “I locked the door.”
“What does he want?” Molly asked. “Why does he come back?”
There was a gentle knocking at the outside door. Orden went to Molly. “What is this, Molly? Are you in trouble?”
“No,” she said, “no! Go out the back way. You can get out through the back. Hurry, hurry out!”
The knocking continued on the front door. A man’s voice called softly. Molly opened the door to the kitchen. She said, “Hurry, hurry!”
The Mayor stood in front of her. “Are you in trouble, Molly? You haven’t done anything?”
Annie said coldly, “It looks like the same soldier. There was a soldier here before.”
“Yes,” Molly said to the Mayor. “Yes, there was a soldier here before.”
The Mayor said, “What did he want?”
“He wanted to make love to me.”
“But he didn’t?” Orden said.
“No,” she said, “he didn’t. Go now, and I’ll take care.”
Orden said, “Molly, if you’re in trouble, let us help you.”
“The trouble I’m in no one can help me with,” she said. “Go now,” and she pushed them out of the door.
Annie remained behind. She looked at Molly.” Miss, what does this soldier want?”
“I don’t know what he wants.”
“Are you going to tell him anything?”
“No.” Wonderingly, Molly repeated, “No.” And then sharply she said, “No, Annie, I’m not!”
Annie scowled at her. “Miss, you’d better not tell him anything!” And she went out and closed the door behind her.
The tapping continued on the front door and a man’s voice could be heard through the door.
Molly went to the center lamp, and her burden was heavy on her. She looked down at the lamp.. She looked at the table, and she saw the big scissors lying beside her knitting. She picked them up wonderingly by the blades. The blades slipped through her fingers until she held the long shears and she was holding them like a knife, and her eyes were horrified. She looked down into the lamp and the light flooded up in her face. Slowly she raised the shears and placed them inside her dress.
The tapping continued on the door. She heard the voice calling to her. She leaned over the lamp for a moment and then suddenly she blew out the light. The room was dark except for a spot of red that came from the coal stove. She opened the door. Her voice was strained and sweet. She called, “I’m coming, Lieutenant, I’m coming!”
CHAPTER VII
In the dark, clear night a white, half-withered moon brought little light. The wind was dry and singing over the snow, a quiet wind that blew steadily, evenly from the cold point of the Pole. Over the land the snow lay very deep and dry as sand. The houses snuggled down in the hollows of banked snow, and their windows were dark and shuttered against the cold, and only a little smoke rose from the banked fires.
In the town the footpaths were frozen hard and packed hard. And the streets were silent, too, except when the miserable, cold patrol came by. The houses were dark against the night, and a little lingering warmth remained in the houses against the morning. Near the mine entrance the guards watched the sky and trained their instruments on the sky and turned their listening-instruments against the sky, for it was a clear night for bombing. On nights this the feathered steel spindles came whistling down and roared to splinters. The land would be visible from the sky tonight, even though the moon seemed to throw little light.
Down toward one end of the village, among the small houses, a dog complained about the cold and the loneliness. He raised his nose to his god and gave a long and fulsome account of the state of the world as it applied to him. He was a practiced singer with a full bell throat and great versatility of range and control. The six men of the patrol slogging dejectedly up and down the streets heard the singing of the dog, and one of the muffled soldiers said, “Seems to me he’s getting worse every night. I suppose we ought to shoot him.”