From: aa811@cleveland.freenet.edu (Terri M. Librande)
Newsgroups: alt.ql.creative
Subject: Mercury Theater #4
Date: 18 Sep 1993 23:07:48 GMT
Organization: Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland, Ohio (USA)
Message-Id: <27g4c4$1mq@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu>
Nntp-Posting-Host: slc5.ins.cwru.edu


Part 4


That was a real mess. I can't describe it.  Women crying, kids clinging
to them, men waving down cabs and commandeering them, shoving their
pajama clad families inside.

"Popowski!"  I swung around, facing a burly, red-necked man.  Balding
donned in a sleeveless t-shirt, suspenders, and trousers, he looked
downright hostile.  "Where's your wife?  Those damned Nazi's are coming!"

"Upstairs, safe."  I faced him like a little dog against a Great Dane.
Sam was giving me a wide eyed look, frightened that the guy would pummel
me into mush.  "And, they aren't NAzi's," I added, with a sneer.  "They're
Martians!"

"Martians, schmartians.  The monsters are comin', and I"m not going to
let my wife and kids die here!"

As I opened my mouth to explain it wasn't real, teh man turned and ran,
grabbing two boys and a woman, running to a car that waited for them
and zooming off.  People were crying in the street, just out in the open,
frightened eyes staring at the sky, probably waiting for teh first onslaught.
"It's not real!" I yelled.  A few heads turned, some dazed, others frowing
in anger.  "It's a damned radio show!"

That got some attention, but not enough to quell teh  panic.  Not the kind
of attention I wanted, actaully.  The gorilla that turned on me was big,
curling black hair covering most of his exposed body.  He must've left his
apartment in a hurry; it wasn't exactly undershirt season.  "It ain't no
show."  The words were said with such determination I wondered if the idiot
wanted a panic.  

"If it's on the radio, it's news!" he continued.  "The damned Nazi's, with
those derigibles of theirs.  Bombs.  The scientist said they were coming 
out of the sky."  Jabbing one fat finger in my chest, he made his pointless
point.  "You don't argue with science.  This is War!"

When he said that, with every ear tuned to him, I realized no one here would
listen to what I had to say.  Panic had flooded teh street, besides our 
building.  I could just hear the sirens starting up.  Someone was screaming
about evacuating the neighborhood--the city!  Great!

"Al!"  Sam was at my shoulder, making a face as he passed through a crowd
of hysterics.  "What are you going  to do?"

"I don't know, damn it!"  A group of neighbors were clustered in nervous
groups on the sidewalks, discussing their plans.  No one had a car, but this
was New York; who did in this city in 1938?  Only the very rich and this
neighborhood was not in that tax bracket.  Sam was no help, but he was 
trying his best, I realized.  His voice was low and probalby calmer than
I sounded--mumbling to Ziggy and Gooshie.

"Someone ought to go check on the kid."

The group fell silent, all eyes falling on me.  

Sam's head snapped up at that.  "Kid?" he asked, glancig from me to the
group. "What kid?"

I was suddenly facing two men in t-shirts, a woman in a robe and curlers,
bunny slippers east and west, and an elderly couple in nightclothes.  The 
old people seemed to be the only ones not panicking.

"You know, Marty, we haven't seen the Ghost yet!"  One of teh t-shirts
with more body hair than leagally allowed, was tapping his foot,
staring up at the windows of the second floor.  "Maybe he's up there,"
he said, directing his words to the man next to him.  What do you
think, Slovisk?  Maybe wondering  what the rest of us are doing?"  The
words were directed upwards, as if speaking to a person I couldn't se
who lived behind one of those windows. 

"He's got one of those ham radios, y'know."  That from the other 
tshirt, arm wrapped protectively around what I assumed was his wife.  
"Maybe he's communcating with the Nazis.  We hear it on at all times,
day and night.  Off, on, funny languedges.  I bang on the wall and he
turns the sound down.  Maybe he's causing all of this, communicating with
the nazis so they can zero in on the Island.!"

More to come--my hands are hurting!

Terri
-- 
"Girls who have glasses have lots & lots of energy!" Al--Single Drop of Rain
Terri Librande aa811@cleveland.Freenet.edu--Assistant Sysop
The Science Fiction and Fantasy Sig--Go SCIFI