Now We Are Three Page 2
There was another thing left to say: "If the plumbing went bad in yourhome, doctor, you would call a plumber, for he would be the onecompetent to fix it." Rush shook his head slowly. "But what happens whenthere are no plumbers left?"
* * * * *
The children were by the bed, their hands holding those of the mother.Gently John Rush tugged those hands away and led them toward their ownbed. The small hands were cold in his own and he felt a tiny feeling ofrevulsion as they tightened. Then the feeling slipped away and wasreplaced--as if a current had crossed from their hands to his. It was awarm feeling--one that he had known before when they touched him, butfor which he had never been able to find mental words to express thesensation.
Slowly he helped them undress. When they were in the single bed hecovered them with the top sheet. Their milky eyes surveyed him,unseeing, somehow withdrawn.
"I have not known you well," he said. "I left that to her. I have satand brooded and buried myself in the earth until it is too late for muchelse." He touched the small heads. "I wish you could hear me. I wish ..."
Outside on the road a truck roared past. Instinctively he set to hearit. The faces below him did not change.
He turned away quickly then and went back out on the porch. He filledhis pipe and sat down in the old, creaky rocker. A tiny rain had begunto fall hesitantly--as if afraid of striking the sun-hardened ground.
_Somewhere out there, somewhere hunted, but not found, the plumbersgathered. There had been a man--what was his name? Masser--that was it.He had been working on a way to inhibit radioactivity--speed up thehalf-life until they had taken the grant away. If a man can do whateverhe thinks of--can he undo that which he has done?_
_Masser was the theoreticist--I was the applier, the one who translatedequations into cold blueprints. And I was good until they ..._
They had hounded him back to the land when he quit. Others had not beenso lucky. When a whole people panic then an object for their hate mustbe found. A naming. An immediate object. He remembered the newspaperstory that began: "They lynched twelve men, twelve ex-men, in New Mexicolast night ..."
_Have I been wrong? Have I done the right thing?_ He remembered the tinyhands in his own, the blind eyes.
_Those hands. Why do they make me feel like ..._
He let his head slide back against the padded top of the rocking chairand fell into a light, uneasy sleep.
The dreams came as they had before. Tiny, inhumanly capable handsclutched at him and the sun was hot above. There was a background soundof hydrogen bombs, heard mutely. He looked down at the hands thattouched and asked something of his own. The eyes were not milky now.They stared up at him, alert and questioning. _What is it you want?_
The wind tore holes in tiny voices and there was the sound of laughterand his wife's eyes were looking into his own, sorry only for him, atpeace with the rest. And they formed a ring around him, those three,hands caught together, enclosing him. _What is it you are saying?_
It seemed to him that the words would come clear, but the rain camethen, great torrents of it, washing all away, all sight and sound....
* * * * *
He awoke and only the rain was true. The tiny rain had increased to awind-driven downpour and he was soaked where it had blown under theeaves onto the porch.
From inside the house he heard a cry.
She was sitting upright in bed. Her eyes were open and full of pain. Hewent quickly to her and touched her pulse. It was faint and reedy.
"I hurt," she whispered.
Quickly, as the doctor had taught him, he made up a shot of morphine, afull quarter grain, and gave it to her. Her eyes glazed down, but didnot close.
"John," she said softly, "the children ... they ... talk to ..." Shetwisted on the bed and he held her with strong arms until the eyesclosed again and her breathing became easy. He pushed the ruffled hairback from her eyes and straightened the awry sheets.
The vibration of his walking might have wakened the twins. He tiptoed to_their_ bed--for they refused to be parted even in sleep.
For a second he thought that the small night-light had tricked him byshadows on shadows. He reached down to touch ...
They were gone.
He fought down sudden panic. Where can two children, deaf and dumb andblind go in the middle of the night?
Not far.
He opened the door to the kitchen, hand-hunted for the hanging light.They were not there--nor were they on the small back porch. The panicpassed critical mass, exploded out of control. He lurched back into thecombination living room, bed room. He looked under all of the beds andinto the small closet--everywhere that two children might concealthemselves.
Outside the rain had increased. He peered out into the lightning night.A truck horn blew ominously far down the road.
The road?
He slogged through the mud, instantly soaking as soon as he was out ofshelter, not knowing or caring. Through the front yard, out to the road.He could see the lights of the truck coming from far away, two tinypoints in the darkness. But no twins.
He waited helplessly while the truck rushed past, its headlights cuttingholes in the darkness--fearing those lights would outline something thathe had not seen. But there was nothing.
For another eternity he hunted the muddy fields, the small barn andoutbuildings. The clutch of fear made him shout their names, though heknew they could not hear.
And then, suddenly, all fear was gone--like a summer squall near thesea, with the sun close behind. It was as if their hands had reached outand touched him and brought the strange feeling again.
"They are in the house," he said aloud and knew he was right.
He took time to discard muddy shoes on the porch before he opened thedoor. And they were there--by the mother's bed, hands clasped over hers.
He felt a tiny chill. Their eyes were watching the door as he opened it,their faces set to receive some stimuli--already set--as if they hadknown he was coming.
Mary was breathing softly. On her face all trace of pain had disappearedand now there was the tiny smile that had been hers long ago. Herbreathing was even, but light as forgotten conversation.
Gently he tried to pry their resisting hands away from hers. The handsfought back with a terrible strength beyond normality. By sheer greaterforce he tore one of the twins away.
It was like releasing a bomb. Sudden pain stabbed through his body. Thetwin struggled in his arms, the small hands reaching blindly out for thething they had lost. And Mary's eyes opened and all of the uncontrolledpain came, back into those eyes. Her body writhed on the bed, tearingthe coverings away. The twin squirmed away from his slackening hold andonce again caught at the hands of the mother.
All struggle ceased. Mary's eyes shut again, the pain lines smoothedthemselves, the tiny smile flowered.
He reached out and touched the small hands on each side of the motherand the feeling for which there were no words came through morestrongly than ever before. Tiny voices tried to whisper within thecorners of his mind, partially blotted, sometimes heard. The _real_things, the things of hate and fear and despair retreated beyond thebugle call that sounded somewhere.
"She will die," the voice said; one voice for two. "This part of herwill die."
And then _her_ voice came--as it had been once before when all of theworld was young. "You must not be afraid, John. I have known for a longtime--for they were a part of me. And you could not know for your mindwas hiding and alone. I have seen ..."
He cried out and pulled his hands away. Sound died, the room was normalagain. The milky, white eyes surveyed him, the hands remained lockedsecurely over those of the mother. The thin carven features of thechildren were emotionless, waiting.
He strove for rational meaning within his brain. _These are mysons--they can not see or hear or speak. They are identical twins--bornwith those defects._
Take two children, blind them, make them deaf
to all sound, cut awaytheir voices. They are identical twins, facing the same environment,sharing the same heredity of blasted chromosomes. They will haveintelligence and curiosity that increases as they mature. They will notbe blinded by the senses--the easy way. The first thing they willdiscover is each other.
What else might they then discover?
It has been said that when sight is lost the sense of touch and hearingincrease to almost unbelievable acuteness--Rush knew that. The blindoften also develop a sense almost like radar which allows them toperceive an object ahead of them and gives them the ability to followtwisting paths.
Take one child and put him under the disability that the twins were bornwith. As intelligence grows so does single bewilderment. The world is apuzzling and bewildering place. Braille is a great discovery--a way tocommunicate with the unknown that lies beyond.
But the twins had shown almost no interest in Braille.
He reached back down for the tiny hands.
* * * * *
"Yes,