switch. Nothing happened. A cry of mortal terror broke through his lips. His eyes darted around. His fingers shook over the control board as he tested the connections.
A plug was loose. Grabbing it with both hands to steady it, he slid it into its socket. At once the chamber began to vibrate. The high screech of its mechanism was music to him.
The universe poured by again, the black night washing over him like ocean waves. This time he didnât lose consciousness.
He was secure.
Â
The chamber stopped vibrating. The silence was almost deafening. Wade sat breathlessly in the semidarkness, gasping in air. Then he grabbed the wheel and turned it quickly. He kicked open the door and jumped down into the apparatus lab of Fort College and looked around, hungry for the sight of familiar things.
The lab was empty. One wall light shone down bleakly in the silence, casting great shadows of machines, sending his own shadow leaping
up the walls. He touched benches, stools, gauges, machines, anything, just to convince himself that he was back.
âItâs real.â He said it over and over.
An overpowering weakness of relief fell over him a mantle. He leaned against the chamber. Here and there he saw black marks on the metal, and pieces of it were hanging loose. He felt almost a love for it. Even partly destroyed it had gotten him back.
Suddenly he looked at the clock. Two in the morning ⦠. Mary ⦠. He had to get home. Quickly, quickly.
The door was locked. He fumbled for keys, got the door open and rushed down the hall. The building was deserted. He reached the front door, unlocked it, remembered to lock it behind him, although he was shaking with excitement.
He tried to walk, but he kept breaking into a run, and his mind raced ahead in anticipation. He was on the porch, through the doorway, rushing up to the bedroom ⦠. Mary, Mary, he was calling ⦠. He was bursting through the doorway ⦠. She was standing by the window. She whirled, saw him, a look of glorious happiness crossed her face. She cried out in tearful joy ⦠. They were holding each other, kissing; together, together.
âMary,â he murmured in a choked-up voice as, once more, he began running.
The tall black Social Sciences Building was behind him. Now the campus was behind him, and he was running happily down University Avenue.
The street lights seemed to waver before him. His chest heaved with shuddering breaths. A burning ache stabbed at his side. His mouth fell open. Exhausted, he was forced to slow down to a walk. He gasped in air, started to run again.
Only two more blocks.
Ahead, the dark outline of his home stood out against the sky. There was a light in the living room. She was awake. She hadnât given up!
His heart flew out to her. The desire for her warm arms was almost more than he could bear.
He felt tired. He slowed down, felt his limbs trembling violently. Excitement. His body ached. He felt numb.
He was on their walk. The front door was open. Through the screen door, he could see the stairs to the second floor. He paused, his eyes glittering with a sick hunger.
âHome,â he muttered.
He staggered up the path, up the porch steps. Shooting pains wracked his body. His head felt as though it would explode.
He pulled open the screen door and lurched to the living room arch.
John Randallâs wife was sleeping on the couch.
There was no time to talk. He wanted Mary. He turned and stumbled to the stairs. He started up.
He tripped, almost fell. He groped for the banister with his right hand. A scream gurgled up and died in his throat. The hand was dissolving in air. His mouth fell open as the horror struck him.
âNo!â He tried to scream it but only a mocking wheeze escaped his lips.
He struggled up. The disintegration was going on faster. His hands. His wrists. They were flying apart. He felt as though he had been thrown into a vat of burning acid.
His mind twisted over
A plug was loose. Grabbing it with both hands to steady it, he slid it into its socket. At once the chamber began to vibrate. The high screech of its mechanism was music to him.
The universe poured by again, the black night washing over him like ocean waves. This time he didnât lose consciousness.
He was secure.
Â
The chamber stopped vibrating. The silence was almost deafening. Wade sat breathlessly in the semidarkness, gasping in air. Then he grabbed the wheel and turned it quickly. He kicked open the door and jumped down into the apparatus lab of Fort College and looked around, hungry for the sight of familiar things.
The lab was empty. One wall light shone down bleakly in the silence, casting great shadows of machines, sending his own shadow leaping
up the walls. He touched benches, stools, gauges, machines, anything, just to convince himself that he was back.
âItâs real.â He said it over and over.
An overpowering weakness of relief fell over him a mantle. He leaned against the chamber. Here and there he saw black marks on the metal, and pieces of it were hanging loose. He felt almost a love for it. Even partly destroyed it had gotten him back.
Suddenly he looked at the clock. Two in the morning ⦠. Mary ⦠. He had to get home. Quickly, quickly.
The door was locked. He fumbled for keys, got the door open and rushed down the hall. The building was deserted. He reached the front door, unlocked it, remembered to lock it behind him, although he was shaking with excitement.
He tried to walk, but he kept breaking into a run, and his mind raced ahead in anticipation. He was on the porch, through the doorway, rushing up to the bedroom ⦠. Mary, Mary, he was calling ⦠. He was bursting through the doorway ⦠. She was standing by the window. She whirled, saw him, a look of glorious happiness crossed her face. She cried out in tearful joy ⦠. They were holding each other, kissing; together, together.
âMary,â he murmured in a choked-up voice as, once more, he began running.
The tall black Social Sciences Building was behind him. Now the campus was behind him, and he was running happily down University Avenue.
The street lights seemed to waver before him. His chest heaved with shuddering breaths. A burning ache stabbed at his side. His mouth fell open. Exhausted, he was forced to slow down to a walk. He gasped in air, started to run again.
Only two more blocks.
Ahead, the dark outline of his home stood out against the sky. There was a light in the living room. She was awake. She hadnât given up!
His heart flew out to her. The desire for her warm arms was almost more than he could bear.
He felt tired. He slowed down, felt his limbs trembling violently. Excitement. His body ached. He felt numb.
He was on their walk. The front door was open. Through the screen door, he could see the stairs to the second floor. He paused, his eyes glittering with a sick hunger.
âHome,â he muttered.
He staggered up the path, up the porch steps. Shooting pains wracked his body. His head felt as though it would explode.
He pulled open the screen door and lurched to the living room arch.
John Randallâs wife was sleeping on the couch.
There was no time to talk. He wanted Mary. He turned and stumbled to the stairs. He started up.
He tripped, almost fell. He groped for the banister with his right hand. A scream gurgled up and died in his throat. The hand was dissolving in air. His mouth fell open as the horror struck him.
âNo!â He tried to scream it but only a mocking wheeze escaped his lips.
He struggled up. The disintegration was going on faster. His hands. His wrists. They were flying apart. He felt as though he had been thrown into a vat of burning acid.
His mind twisted over
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