Read Online The Howling Man by Charles Beaumont - Free Book Online

finden,"
    "All right. That's all we wanted to know, whether you was here or not," Kroner studied the pages carefully. Then he reached into the pocket of his overalls and withdrew a stub of pencil and put the tip in his mouth.
    "Now, before we start off," he said to the group, "I want you to know is there anybody here that's got a question or anything to ask?" He looked over the crowd of silent faces. "Anybody don't know who I am? No?"
    Then came another wind, mountain-scattered and fast: it billowed dresses, set damp hair moving; it pushed over pewter vases, and smashed dead roses and hydrangeas to swirling dust against the gritty tombstones. Its clean rain smell was gone now, though, for it had passed over the fields with the odors of rotting life.
    Kroner made a check mark in the notebook, "Anderson," he shouted. "Edward L."
    A man in overalls like Kroner's stepped forward.
    "Andy, you covered Skagit valley, Snohomish and King counties, as well as Seattle and the rest?"
    "Yes, sir."
    "What you got to report?"
    "They're all dead," Anderson said.
    "You looked everywhere? You was real careful?"
    "Yes, sir. Ain't nobody alive in the whole state."
    Kroner nodded and made another check mark. "That's all, Andy. Next: Avakian, Katina."
    A woman in a wool skirt and gray blouse walked up from the back, waving her arms. She started to speak.
    Kroner tapped his stick. "Listen here for a second, folks," he said. "For those that don't know how to talk English, you know what this is all about--so when I ask my question, you nod up-and-down for yes (like this) and sideways (like this) for no. Makes it a lot easier for those of us as don't remember too good. All right?"
    There were murmurings and whispered consultations and for a little while the yard was full of noise. The woman called Avakian kept nodding.
    "Fine," Kroner said. "Now, Miss Avakian. You covered what? Iran, Iraq, Turkey, Syria. Did you--find--an-ybody a-live?"
    The woman stopped nodding. "No," she said. "No, no."
    Kroner checked the name. "Let's see here, Boleslavsky, Peter. You can go on back now, Miss Avakian."
    A man in bright city clothes walked briskly to the tree clearing. "Yes, sir," he said.
    "What have you got for us?"
    The man shrugged. "Well, I tell you; I went over New York with a fine-tooth comb. Then I hit Brooklyn and Jersey. Nothin', man. Nothin' nowhere."
    "He is right," a dark-faced woman said in a tremulous voice. "I was there too. Only the dead in the streets, all over, all over the city; in the cars I looked even, in the offices . Everywhere is people dead."
    "Chavez, Pietro. Baja California."
    "All dead, senor chief,"
    "Ciodo, Ruggiero. Capri."
    The man from Capri shook his head violently.
    "Denman, Charlotte. Southern United States." "Dead as doornails . . ." "Elgar, Davis S . . ." "Ferrazio, Ignatz . . ." "Goldfarb, Bernard . . ." "Halpern . . ." "Ives . . . Kranek . . . O'Brian . . ."
    The names exploded in the pale evening air like deep gunshots; there was much head-shaking, many people saying, "No. No."
    At last Kroner stopped marking. He closed the notebook and spread his big workman's hands. He saw the round eyes, the trembling mouths, the young faces; he saw all the frightened people.
    A girl began to cry. She sank to the damp ground, and covered her face and made these crying sounds. An elderly man put his hand on her head, The elderly man looked sad. But not afraid. Only the young ones seemed afraid,
    "Settle down now," Kroner said firmly. "Settle on down. Now, listen to me, I'm going to ask you all the same question one more time, because we got to be sure." He waited for them to grow quiet. "All right. This here is all of us, everyone. \Ve've covered all the spots. Did anybody here find one single solitary sign of life?"
    The people were silent. The wind had died again, so there was no sound at all. Across the corroded wire fence the gray meadows lay strewn with the carcasses of cows and horses and, in one of the fields, sheep. No flies