gs.earthabides-第6节

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to　realize　that　the　motor　of　the　electric　refrigerator；　as　if　disturbed　by　his　ing；　had　begun　to　whir。　In　quick　reaction　he　was　deathly　ill；　and　found　himself　vomiting　into　the　sink。　
　　Recovered；　he　went　out　again；　and　sat　in　the　car。　He　was　no　longer　ill；　but　he　felt　weak　and　utterly　despondent。　If　he　made　a　detective…like　investigation；　searching　in　cupboards　and　drawers；　he　could　probably　discover　something。　But　of　what　use　thus　to　torture　himself？。　The　main　part　of　the　story　was　clear。　There　were　no　bodies　in　the　house；　of　that　at　least　lie　could　be　thankful。　Neither；　he　believed；　would　there　be　any　ghosts…although　the　faithful　clock　and　refrigerator　were　rather　too　ghost…like。　
　　Should　he　go　back　into　the　house；　or　go　somewhere　else？　At　first　he　thought　that　he　could　not　enter　again。　Then　he　realized　that　just　as　he　had　e　here；　so　his　father　and　mother；　if　by　any　chance　they　still　lived；　would　also　return　here　looking　for　him。　After　half　an　hour；　overing　repugnance；　he　went　back　into　the　house。　
　　Again　he　wandered　through　the　empty　rooms。　They　spoke　with　all　the；　pathos　of　any　dwelling…place　left　without　people。　Now　and　then　some　little　thing　cried　out　to　him　more　poipantly…his　father's　new　encyclopedia　（purchased　with　qualms　as　to　the　expense）；　his　mother's　potted　pelargoniums　（now　needing　water）；　the　barometer　that　his　father　used　to　tap　each　morning　when　he　came　down　to　breakfast。　Yes；　it　was　a　simple　house…what　you　would　expect　of　a　man　who　had　taught　history　in　high　school　and　liked　books；　and　of　a　woman　who　had　made　it　into　a　home　for　him　and　served　on　the　Y。W。C。A。　board；　and　of　their　only　child…〃He　always　does　so　well　in　his　studies！〃…for　whom　they　had　cherished　ambitions　and　for　whose　education　they　had　made　sacrifices。　
　　After　a　while　he　sat　down　in　the　living…room。　Looking　at　the　familiar　chairs　and　pictures　and　books；　he　gradually　came　to　feel　less　despondent。　
　　As　twilight　fell；　he　realized　that　he　had　not　eaten　since　morning。　He　was　not　hungry；　but　his　weakness　might　be　partly　the　result　of　lack　of　food。　He　rummaged　around　a　little；　and　opened　a　can　of　soup。　He　found　only　the　stub　of　a　loaf　of　bread；　and　it　was　mouldy。　The　refrigerator　supplied　butter　and　stale　cheese。　He　located　crackers　in　a　cupboard。　The　gas…pressure　at　the　kitchen　stove　was　very　low；　but　he　managed　to　warm　up　the　soup。　
　　Afterwards　he　sat　on　the　porch　in　the　dark。　In　spite　of　his　meal　he　felt　unsteady；　and　he　realized　that　he　was　suffering　from　shock。　
　　San　Lupo　Drive　was　high　enough　on　the　slope　of　the　hills　to　be　proud　of　its　view。　As　he　sat　there　looking　out；　everything　seemed　just　about　the　same。　Apparently　the　processes　behind　the　production　of　electricity　must　be　almost　pletely　automatic。　In　the　hydro…electric　plants　the　flow　of　water　was　still　keeping　the　generators　in　motion。　Moreover；　when　things　had　started　to　go　to　pieces；　someone　must　have　ordered　that　the　street…lights　be　left　turned　on。　Now　he　saw　beneath　him　all　the　intricate　pattern　of　the　lights　in　the　East　Bay　cities；　and　beyond　that　the　yellow　chains　of　lights　on　the　Bay　Bridge；　and　still　farther　through　the　faint　evening　mist；　the　glow　of　the　San　Francisco　lights　and　the　fainter　chains　on　the　Golden　Gate　Bridge。　Even　the　trafficlights　were　still　working；　changing　from　green　to　red。　High　upon　the　bridge…towers　the　flashes　silently　sent　their　warnings　to　airplanes　which　would　no　longer　ever　be　flying。　（Far　to　the　south；　however；　somewhere　in　Oakland；　there　was　one　wholly　black　section。　There；　some　switch　must　have　failed；　or　some　fuse　have　burned　out。）　Even　the　advertising　signs；　some　of　them　at　least；　had　been　left　burning。　Pathetically；　they　flashed　out　their　call　to　buy；　though　no　longer　were　there　any　customers　left　or　any　salesmen。　One　great　sign　in　particular；　its　lower　part　hidden　behind　a　near…by　building；　still　sent　out　its　message　Drink　although　he　could　not　see　what　he　was　thus　manded　to　drink。　
　　He　watched　it；　half…fascinated。　Drink…blackness。　Drink…blackness。　Drink。　〃Well；　why　not？〃　he　thought；　and　going　in；　he　came　out　again　with　a　bottle　of　his　father's　brandy。　
　　Yet　the　brandy　had　little　bite；　and　brought　no　satisfaction。　
　　in　probably　not　the　type；〃　he　thought；　〃to　drink　myself　to　death。〃　He　found　himself　really　more　interested　in　watching　the　sign　that　still　flashed　there。　Drink…blackness。　Drink　blackness。　Drink。　How　long　would　the　lights　burn？　What　would　make　them　go　out　in　the　end？　What　else　would　continue？　What　was　going　to　happen　to　all　that　man　had　built　up　through　the　centuries　and　now　had　left　behind　him？　
　　I　suppose；〃　he　thought　again；　〃I　ought　to　be　considering　suicide。　No；　too　soon。　I　am　alive；　and　so　others　probably　are　alive。　We　are　just　like　gas　molecules　in　a　near…vacuum；　circulating　around；　one　unable　to　make　contact　with　the　other。〃　
　　Again　a　kind　of　dullness　verging　on　despair　slowly　came　settling　upon　him。　What　if　he　did　live　on；　eating　as　a　scavenger　at　all　those　great　supplies　of　food　which　were　piled　up　in　every　storeroom？　What　if　he　coul　d　live　well　and　even　if　he　could　draw　together　a　few　other　survivors？　What　would　it　all　amount　to？　It　would　be　different　if　one　could　pick　half　a　dozen　friends　for　fellow…survivors；　but　this　way　they　would　probably　be　dull　and　stupid　people；　or　even　vicious　ones。　He　looked　out　and　saw　still　the　great　sign　flashing　far　off。　Drink…blackness。　Drink…blackness。　Drink。　And　again　he　wondered　how　long　it　would　keep　flashing　while　there　were　no　more　vending…machines　or　salesmen　offering　whatever　it　was　one　was　to　drink；　and　from　that　he　thought　back　to　some　of　the　other　things　he　had　seen　that　day；　wondering　what　would　happen　to　the　coyote　that　he　had　seen　loping　along　the　highway；　and　what　would　happen　to　the　cattle　and　horses　standing　by　the　watering…trough　beneath　the　slowly　revolving　spokes　of　the　windmill。　How　long　indeed　would　the　windmill　still　revolve　and　pump　its　water　from　the　depths　of　the　earth？　
　　Then　suddenly　he　gave　a　quick　start；　and　he　realized　that　he　had　again　a　will　to　five！　At　least；　if　he　could　be　no　more　a　participant；　he　would　be　a　spectator；　and　a　spectator　trained　to　observe　what　was　happening。　Even　though　the　curtain　had　been　rung　down　on　man；　here　was　the　opening　of　the　greatest　of　all　dramas　for　a　student　such　as　he。　During　thousands　of　years　man　had　impressed　himself　upon　the　world。　Now　man　was　gone；　certainly　for　a　while；　perhaps　forever。　Even　if　some　survivors　were　left；　they　would　be　a　long　time　in　again　obtaining　supremacy。　What　would　happen　to　the　world　and　its　creatures　without　man？　That　he　was　left　to　see！　
　　
　　Chapter　2
　　Yet；　after　he　was　in　bed；　no　sleep　came　to　him。　As　the　chilly　arms　of　the　summer　fog　lapped　around　the　house　in　the　darkness；　he　felt　first　loneliness；　and　then　fear；　and　finally　panic。　He　rose　from　his　bed。　Wrapping　himself　in　a　bathrobe；　he　sat　before　the　radio；　frantically　searching　the　bands。　But　he　heard　only；　far…off；　the　rasp　and　crackle　of　static；　and　there　was　no　one。　
　　With　a　sudden　thought　he　tried　the　telephone。　As　he　lifted　the　receiver；　he　heard　the　low　hum　of　the　clear　wire。　He　dialed　desperately　a　number…any　number！　On　some　distant　house　he　heard　the　telephone　ring；　ring　again。　He　waited；　thinking　of　the　sound　echoing　through　empty　rooms。　After　it　had　rung　ten　times；　he　hung　up。　He　tried　a　second　number；　and　a　thirdand　then　no　others。　
　　Working　with　a　new　thought；　he　rigged　up　a　light　with　a　reflector；　and　standing　on　the　front　porch；　high　above　the　city；　he　sent　the　flashes　into　the　night…short…short…short；　long…long…long；　short…short…short…the　old　call　of　the　SOS；　which　had　gone　out　so　often　from　despairing　men。　But　there　was　no　reply　from　all　the　expanse　of　the　city。　After　a　while　he　realized　that　with　all　the　street…lights　still　burning　there　was　too　much　illumination；　his　own　petty　flashing　would　hardly　be　noticeable。　
　　So　he　went　into　the　house　again。　The　foggy　night　sent　a　chill　into　him。　He　turned　on　the　thermostat；　and　in　a　moment　he　heard　the　whir　of　the　oil…burner。　With　electricity　still　working　and　a　full　tank　of　fuel…oil　there　was　no　trouble。　He　sat；　and　after　a　while　turned　out　the　lights　in　the　house；　feeling　in　some　strange　way　that　they　were　too　conspicuous。　He　let　the　fog　and　the　darkness　wrap　him　round　and　conceal　him。　Still　he　felt　the　fear　of　loneliness；　and　as　he　sat　there；　he　laid　the　hammer　close　at　hand；　ready　for　grasping　if　there　should　be　need。　
　　A　horrible　cry　broke　the　darkness！　He　trembled　violently；　and　then　realized　that　it　was　only　the　call　of　a　mating　cat；　the　sort　of　sound　which　in　any　night　one　might　have　heard　now　and　then；　even　on　decorous　San　Lupo　Drive。　The　caterwauling　rose　to　a　climax；　and　then　the　growl　of　a　charging　dog　cut　across　it；　and　the　night　was　silent　again。　
　　For　them　the　world　of　twenty　thousand　years　was　overthrown。　In　the　kennels；　swollen…tongued；　they　lay　dead　of　thirst…pointers；　collies；　poodles；　toy　pekinese；　tall　hounds。　The　luckier　ones；　not　confined；　wandered　loose　through　city　and　countryside；　drinking　at　the　streams；　at　the　fountains；　at　the　gold…fish　ponds；　hunting　here　and　there　for　what　they　might　find　for　eating…scurrying　after　a　hen；　picking　up　a　squirrel　in　the　park。　And　gradually；　the　pangs　of　hun