THE VANISHER

By MICHAEL SHAARA

He was expendable, this Web Hilton, this
young officer with the strange heritage. And
so it was that he was ordered out into space
where he saw the uncovered stars, and met
the naked alien, and became the first man
in history to die more than once.

[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Winter 1954.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]


The two girls stayed to see the picture a second time and when they gotout of the movie it was after midnight and raining and they couldn'tget a cab. Louise bought a paper and put it over her head and ran off,laughing, in the direction of Albany Street. Ivy folded her kerchiefand turned up Livingstone. She did not run. There was nothing wrongwith rain, or with getting wet, and she enjoyed the coolness. Sheplunged her hands deeply into her coat pockets and did not bother towalk quickly at all.

The night was very dark, made darker by the rain, which was heavy andfull. But Ivy was unconcerned. She was a small-town girl, country bred,with three huge brothers who knew every man in the county. She hadgrown up with a strong belief in the natural goodness of things, ofpeople, and although she was young and slim and extremely pretty shehad no worry now of walking home in the dark. This was her home town.She had lived here all her life. She passed by huge bushes and underthe great clutching branches of trees without thinking at all of thethings which could, and did, lurk behind them. She turned up ElmwoodRoad with her mind at rest, filled with skirts and dances and taffypulls.

And her faith in people, as it turned out, was justified.

For the long arm that reached out of the bushes, the darkness, andplucked her with a rush into a deep black silence, was an arm of flesh,and an arm of bone, but it was very far from human.


The door opened at the top of the ramp and the colonel peeredcautiously inside.

"Nobody here but us chickens," he said, sputtering in the rain, and theguard dropped the muzzle of the machine pistol and saluted.

The colonel stomped in onto the concrete floor, grumbling. Hewas followed by an enormous lieutenant, an immense, looming,cliff-shouldered man well over six feet tall. The lieutenant had toduck coming through the door, cast a downward salute to the startledguard. The colonel moved out from under the lieutenant's drippingoverhang, pointed a lean wet finger down the hall.

"He here?"

"Yessir," said the guard, eyeing the monstrous lieutenant with respect.

The colonel wiped his face with a dry handkerchief, took off his hatand smoothed down his sparse white hair. Then he strode off down theconcrete hall, motioning for the lieutenant to follow. Together theycame to a bolted steel door. The colonel opened it without knocking,ushered the lieutenant inside.

The room they entered was wide and rich, oak-panelled, in greatcontrast to the white-washed concrete of the halls outside. In thecenter of the room was a mahogany desk, at which a small, sad,cigar-smoking man sat absorbedly drawing doughnuts on a white lined pad.

The colonel saluted. The man at the desk, whose name was Dundon, lookedup at the big lieutenant and chomped on his cigar.

"Is this our man?"

"Yes sir. Lieutenant Hilton. He knows—"

"Sure is a big bugger," Dundon said, rising. The lieutenant regardedhim calmly.

"He knows every phase of the operation, sir," the colonel said.

"Of course. Sit down, boy," Dundon said briefly, waving his cigar. Thelieutenant sat. "What's a few extra pounds? May need 'em, by God." Hepu

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