THE PLOTTERS
By ALEXANDER BLADE
[Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from Amazing Stories December1948. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.copyright on this publication was renewed.]
It seemed to be the same tree that kept getting in my way. I tried to goaround it but it moved with me and I ran right into it. I found myselfsprawled on my back and my nose was bleeding where I had hit it againstthe tree. Then I got up and ran again.
I had to keep running. I didn't know why; I just had to. There was apuddle of water and I splashed through it and then slipped and fell intoa thorny bush. When I got up there were scratches on my hands and faceand chest.
As yet I felt no pain. That wouldn't come for a while, after I had donea lot more running. But at the moment I couldn't feel a thing.
In my conscious mind there was only a sort of grayness. I didn't knowwhere I was, or who I was, or why I was running. I didn't know that if Iran long enough and bumped into enough trees and scratched myself oftenenough I would eventually feel pain. Or that out of the exertion and thepain would come awareness.
All that must have been there, but buried so deep it didn't comethrough. It was only instinct which kept me going.
The same tree was in my way again and this time I didn't even try to goaround it. My breath was knocked out of me. After a few gasps it cameback, and then I was off again.
I went up a rise and down into a hollow and tripped over roots. Thattime I didn't fall. I went up the other side of the hollow with the windwhistling in my ears. A few drops of rain fell. There were flashes oflightning in the sky.
Wet leaves whipped against my face and there was a crack of thunder soclose that it shook me. I ran away from the thunder and up another riseand down into another hollow.
The wind was stronger now. It came in long blasts. Sometimes I ran withit and sometimes against it. When I ran against it I didn't make muchheadway, but my legs kept pumping. There was tall grass to slow me downand there were roots to trip me. There was the wind and the thunder andthe lightning. And there were always trees.
And then there was a terrible flash and above me a crack that was not ofthunder. Something came crashing down. It was the limb of a tree. Itcrashed against my chest and smashed me flat on my back and pinned methere.
One of my ribs felt broken. It jabbed into me as I fought to raise thisweight from my chest, and this was a pain I could feel.
This was something that hurt as nothing had ever hurt me before. Thiswas excruciating. But it was the pain that cut through the grayness ofmy mind, and because of that I welcomed it.
With the pain would come knowledge. I would know who I was and why I wasrunning. Already there were figures racing across the blankness. Therewere faces and there were names: Ristal, Kresh, Marko, Copperd, Beth.
I was Marko. I knew that much already. Beth was the golden girl. SomehowI knew that too. But who were the others?
It wasn't coming fast enough. I couldn't find the connections. There wasonly one way to bring it back, to bridge the gaps. I had to startsomewhere, with what I knew. I had to start with myself and then bridgethe gap to Beth. That was the beginning.
I checked with the mirror for the last time and decided that I wouldpass muster. As far as I could see, I looked