Read Online Mission: Earth "The Enemy Within" by Ron L. Hubbard - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ron L. Hubbard
Tags: sf_humor
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bathroom!
Another voice! "Don't kill her!" It was the second small boy. He, too, was stark naked. He was standing by a dressing table that was covered with open boxes.
Suddenly he exploded into action!
With all his might he threw a powder puff!
"Don't you dare kill her!" he screamed.
He found another powder puff on the dresser. He pitched it as hard as he could throw!
The powder trailed through the air!
The puff hit my pants in a white explosion!
"Don't kill Utanc!" he screamed at the top of his lungs.
He was scrambling through the boxes to find another powder puff.
I got out of the room.
I went across the patio, totally confused.
The first small boy was racing back across the yard. He had dropped the towels and they were strewn behind him.
He was carrying something—a long-handled back brush.
Screams were still coming from the bedroom behind me.
The first small boy rushed at me from the yard, blocking my way. "Don't you dare kill Utanc!" he shouted at the top of his lungs.
He struck at me with the bath brush!
He wasn't very big. The brush could not reach
higher than my arm. But he wielded it with all his might.
I had had enough!
It was his fault anyway! He had left the door open!
I cocked my right fist.
With everything behind it, I hit him in the face!
He flew backwards about fifteen feet!
He landed with a crumpled thud!
Staff had come pouring out of other buildings, probably at the first screams.
They saw the boy land.
They saw me in the patio door.
They stopped.
They made a ring of people twenty feet back from where the boy lay.
He was twitching, lying on his side, his eyes shut, blood gushing from his nose.
The staff did not come forward to him. They knew better.
The boy's own mother started ahead toward him. Then her arm was caught by Karagoz and she halted.
The Turks were wringing their hands. They did not know what to do. But they knew me.
One by one they knelt and, slowly, moaning, they began to pound their heads against the grass of the lawn.
I stood there, glaring at the scene.
There was a sound behind me.
Something slipped past me.
It was Utanc.
She didn't look at me. She didn't stop to soothe me.
She went out onto the lawn. She was covered with a white hooded cloak and she was veiled. Her feet were bare and had left a trail of water on the flagstones.
She went straight to the small boy.
She said, "Oh, you poor little boy. You were trying to protect me."
She felt for his pulse. She looked at his limbs.
Then she picked him up and carried him toward me. Then past me. Her eyes did not even flick at me.
She took the small boy into her room.
She closed the door.
The staff melted away.
I did not know what to do. I was in a spinning confusion. I could not add it all up.
I went to a corner of the yard that was very dark and sat down under some bushes. I was sort of numb, like you feel when you are going over a cliff and are only halfway down.
After a while a bearded old doctor from the town drove up. Karagoz showed him the way to Utanc's room.
The doctor was in there a very long time.
Finally he came out.
I was instantly in front of him. I said, "How is Utanc?"
He looked at me. "Is that the boy's name? Odd name for a boy."
"No, no," I said. "Not the boy. The woman! How is she?"
"Ah, she is very upset. You see, the boy had, she says, a very pretty face. His nose is broken and his cheekbone is pushed in. She offered me real money to repair it."
I saw what it was all about now. She had some weird female concern for aesthetics. "Well! Can you? Can you?"
He hesitated. Then, "The nose, somewhat. But the cheekbone..."
"Fly him to Istanbul!"
He shook his head. "No reason to do that. They can't do any more than I did, no matter their fancy equipment."
He left.
I went back and sat down behind some bushes in the dark corner. I was trying to think, trying to reach some conclusions. I felt as though somebody had died—the lingering, heavy grief you can't do anything about.
Another voice! "Don't kill her!" It was the second small boy. He, too, was stark naked. He was standing by a dressing table that was covered with open boxes.
Suddenly he exploded into action!
With all his might he threw a powder puff!
"Don't you dare kill her!" he screamed.
He found another powder puff on the dresser. He pitched it as hard as he could throw!
The powder trailed through the air!
The puff hit my pants in a white explosion!
"Don't kill Utanc!" he screamed at the top of his lungs.
He was scrambling through the boxes to find another powder puff.
I got out of the room.
I went across the patio, totally confused.
The first small boy was racing back across the yard. He had dropped the towels and they were strewn behind him.
He was carrying something—a long-handled back brush.
Screams were still coming from the bedroom behind me.
The first small boy rushed at me from the yard, blocking my way. "Don't you dare kill Utanc!" he shouted at the top of his lungs.
He struck at me with the bath brush!
He wasn't very big. The brush could not reach
higher than my arm. But he wielded it with all his might.
I had had enough!
It was his fault anyway! He had left the door open!
I cocked my right fist.
With everything behind it, I hit him in the face!
He flew backwards about fifteen feet!
He landed with a crumpled thud!
Staff had come pouring out of other buildings, probably at the first screams.
They saw the boy land.
They saw me in the patio door.
They stopped.
They made a ring of people twenty feet back from where the boy lay.
He was twitching, lying on his side, his eyes shut, blood gushing from his nose.
The staff did not come forward to him. They knew better.
The boy's own mother started ahead toward him. Then her arm was caught by Karagoz and she halted.
The Turks were wringing their hands. They did not know what to do. But they knew me.
One by one they knelt and, slowly, moaning, they began to pound their heads against the grass of the lawn.
I stood there, glaring at the scene.
There was a sound behind me.
Something slipped past me.
It was Utanc.
She didn't look at me. She didn't stop to soothe me.
She went out onto the lawn. She was covered with a white hooded cloak and she was veiled. Her feet were bare and had left a trail of water on the flagstones.
She went straight to the small boy.
She said, "Oh, you poor little boy. You were trying to protect me."
She felt for his pulse. She looked at his limbs.
Then she picked him up and carried him toward me. Then past me. Her eyes did not even flick at me.
She took the small boy into her room.
She closed the door.
The staff melted away.
I did not know what to do. I was in a spinning confusion. I could not add it all up.
I went to a corner of the yard that was very dark and sat down under some bushes. I was sort of numb, like you feel when you are going over a cliff and are only halfway down.
After a while a bearded old doctor from the town drove up. Karagoz showed him the way to Utanc's room.
The doctor was in there a very long time.
Finally he came out.
I was instantly in front of him. I said, "How is Utanc?"
He looked at me. "Is that the boy's name? Odd name for a boy."
"No, no," I said. "Not the boy. The woman! How is she?"
"Ah, she is very upset. You see, the boy had, she says, a very pretty face. His nose is broken and his cheekbone is pushed in. She offered me real money to repair it."
I saw what it was all about now. She had some weird female concern for aesthetics. "Well! Can you? Can you?"
He hesitated. Then, "The nose, somewhat. But the cheekbone..."
"Fly him to Istanbul!"
He shook his head. "No reason to do that. They can't do any more than I did, no matter their fancy equipment."
He left.
I went back and sat down behind some bushes in the dark corner. I was trying to think, trying to reach some conclusions. I felt as though somebody had died—the lingering, heavy grief you can't do anything about.
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