'Twas said of The Berserker ... "when
an opening comes he'll play for it, and
he'll do it with a single-minded violence."
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories March 1953.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
All of Big Jim Ostby's attention seemed on the cigar as he lit it, butit was not. He observed the faces of the men who passed him by, andthe figures of those across the street, and up and down the sidewalk.Satisfied, he moved on.
Ostby's six feet four, and two hundred thirty-five pounds, were notconspicuous on this other-dimensional world, where his size was butlittle above average. And only the sharpest observer would have notedthe leashed aliveness of the instrument of sinew and muscle which washis body.
Deliberately Ostby avoided the shadows. That way lay danger. Reason,abetted by an instinctive capacity for adaptation, told him blending inwith his background offered the best concealment.
By now the whole district would know that the police were after him.He wondered what the latest reports were. Casually he slowed his paceuntil two men behind him drew near enough to be overheard.
"They say the police have the Berserker cornered in our half of theFlats," one of the men said.
"If they trap 'im there's gonna be some dead police before the night'sover," the second answered. "He ain't called the Berserker for nothing."
"I'd hate to be in his shoes. They've got a net around the districtthat a fly couldn't get through."
"I'd hate to be one of the police that corners him."
"He'll never get away this time."
"I wouldn't bet against him if I was you. The gamblers in the streetare giving odds of two to one that he makes it."
"How do you figure he's got a chance?"
"I don't know. We're not cut out of the right stuff for that kind ofthing. He is. When an opening comes he'll play for it, and he'll do itwith a single-minded violence."
Suddenly Ostby's attention was drawn to a group of men collected atthe corner ahead. Two thin lines of police were blocking the way andexamining identity cards. He drew in a long, deep breath. Life for himon this world was one of a series of crises, unforeseen, but stationedalong his way as regularly as mileposts.
Swiftly, but with studied unconcern, he looked about him. To turn backhere would arouse attention. His cigar had gone out now, and he flickedit into the gutter.
To his right was an amusement place. He turned and entered.
The place was filled with the usual crowd of drinkers and merrymakers.Ostby found a seat at the bar and ordered a drink.
A minute later he left his stool and went to the rest room. He had toplan a way out in case of necessity. There was no back entrance to therest room, he saw, and the only window was high above his head. Toosmall for a man's body to squeeze through. He'd be trapped if he letthem corner him here.
Back at the bar he found his drink still waiting.
"I held your place for you," a woman's soft voice said.
Ostby glanced into the full length mirror above the bar. The girlnext to him was young and pretty. He shifted his glance to his ownreflection. The mustache and the little patch of beard between hischin and lower lip had grown well. His whiskers always came in heavyand black, and they were the style now. They altered his appearanceconsiderably.
Evidently it had not lessened his attraction for the opposite sex.That attractiveness had been with him so long that he had ceased beingsurprised by it. But it still puzzled him.