Eye in the Sky (1957) Read Online Free Page B

guess
so.” Marsha was talking. Her voice seemed to come from a considerable
distance. “When will we be sure?”
    I’m fine,” Hamilton managed gruffly. Instantly, the shape detached itself and fluttered
over. “Darting,” Marsha was gasping, tugging and pressing at him fondly. “Nobody was killed—everybody’s
all right. Even you.” Like a great moon,
she beamed ecstatically down at him. “McFeyffe sprained his ankle, but
it’ll mend. They think that boy has a brain
concussion.” “What about
you?” Hamilton asked weakly. “I’m fine, too.” She
displayed herself, turning so he could see all of her. Instead of her chic
little coat and dress, she had on a plain white hospital smock. “The radiation singed away most of my clothes—they gave
me this.” Embarrassed, she
patted her brown hair. “And look —this
is shorter. I clipped off the burned part. It’ll grow back.”
    “Can
I get up?” Hamilton demanded, trying to climb to a sitting position. His
head swam dizzily; all at once he was prone
again, and gasping for breath. Bits of dark ness danced and swirled around him; closing his eyes he waited
apprehensively for them to pass.
    “You’ll be weak for a time,” the doctor informed him.
“Shock, and loss of blood.” He touched Hamilton’s arm. “You were pretty badly cut Torn metal, but we got the pieces out.”
    “Who’s the worst off?” Hamilton asked, eyes shut.
    “Arthur
Silvester, the old soldier. He never lost con sciousness,
but I wish he had. Broken back, apparently. He’s down in surgery.”
    “Brittle, I suppose,” Hamilton said, exploring his arm. It was done up in a vast
white-plastic bandage.
    “I
was the least hurt,” Marsha said haltingly. “But I was knocked cold.
I mean, the radiation did it. I fell right into the main beam; all I saw were
sparks and lightning. They cut it right
off, of course. It didn’t really last over a fraction of a second.”
Plaintively, she added, “It seemed like a million years.”
    The
doctor, a neat-appearing young man, pushed the covers back and took Hamilton’s pulse. At the edge of the bed, a tall nurse
hovered efficiently. Equipment was pulled up at Hamilton’s elbow. Things
seemed to be under control.
    Seemed . .
. but something was wrong. He could feel it. Deep inside him, there was a
nagging sense that something basic was out
of phase.
    “Marsha,”
he said suddenly, “you feel it?”
    Hesitantly, Marsha came over beside him. “Feel what, darling?”
    “I
don’t know. But it’s there.”
    After an
anxious, undecided moment, Marsha turned to the doctor. “I told you
something’s the matter. Didn’t I say that
when I came back?”
    “Everybody
coming out of shock has a sense of un reality,”
the doctor informed her. “It’s a common feeling. After a day or so it should fade. Remember, both
of you have been given sedative injections. And you’ve had a terrible
ordeal; that was highly charged stuff that hit you.”
    Neither
Hamilton nor his wife spoke. They gazed at each other, each trying to read the
expression on the other’s face.
    “I
guess we were lucky,” Hamilton said tentatively. His prayer of joy had
faded to a doubtful uncertainty. What was
it? The awareness was not
rational; he couldn’t pin it down. Glancing around the room he saw noth ing
odd, nothing out of place.
    “Very
lucky,” the nurse put in. Proudly, as if she had been personally responsible.
    “How
long do I have to stay here?”
    The doctor
meditated. “You can go home tonight, I think. But you should be in bed a
day or so. Both of you are going to need a lot of rest, the next week or so. I suggest a trained nurse.”
    Hamilton said
thoughtfully, “We can’t afford it”
    “You’ll
be covered, of course.” The doctor sounded offended. “The Federal
Government manages this. If I were you, I’d
spend my time worrying about getting back on my feet”
    “Maybe I like it better this way,” Hamilton said tartly. He didn’t amplify;