Richard Matheson - SHOCK!.doc

RICHARD MATHESON

SHOCK!

13 TA­LES OF SHE­ER TER­ROR

Table of Contents

1 - THE CHILD­REN OF NO­AH

2 - LEM­MINGS

3 - THE SPLEN­DID SO­UR­CE

4 - LONG DIS­TAN­CE CALL

5 - MAN­TA­GE

6 - ONE FOR THE BO­OKS

7 - THE HO­LI­DAY MAN

8 - DAN­CE OF THE DE­AD

9 - LE­GI­ON OF PLOT­TERS

10 - THE ED­GE

11 - THE CRE­EPING TER­ROR

12 - DE­ATH SHIP

13 - THE DIS­T­RI­BU­TOR

1 - THE CHILDREN OF NOAH

    It was just past three a.m. when Mr Ketc­hum dro­ve past the sign that re­ad Zachry: pop. 67. He gro­aned. Anot­her in an end­less string of Ma­ine se­asi­de towns. He clo­sed his eyes hard a se­cond, then ope­ned them aga­in and pres­sed down on the ac­ce­le­ra­tor. The Ford sur­ged for­ward un­der him. May­be, with luck, he'd re­ach a de­cent mo­tel so­on. It cer­ta­inly wasn't li­kely the­re'd be one in Zachry: pop. 67.

    Mr Ketc­hum shif­ted his he­avy fra­me on the se­at and stretc­hed his legs. It had be­en a so­ur va­ca­ti­on. Mo­to­ring thro­ugh New Eng­land's his­to­ric be­a­uty, com­mu­ning with na­tu­re and nos­tal­gia was what he'd plan­ned. Ins­te­ad, he'd fo­und only bo­re­dom, ex­ha­us­ti­on and over-expen­se.

    Mr Ketc­hum was not ple­ased.

    The town se­emed fast as­le­ep as he dro­ve along its Ma­in Stre­et. The only so­und was that of the car's en­gi­ne, the only sight that of his ra­ised he­ad be­ams spla­ying out ahe­ad, ligh­ting up anot­her sign. Spe­ed 15 Li­mit.

    'Sure, su­re,' he mut­te­red dis­gus­tedly, pres­sing down on the gas pe­dal. Three o'clock in the mor­ning and the town fat­hers ex­pec­ted him to cre­ep thro­ugh the­ir lo­usy ham­let. Mr Ketc­hum watc­hed the dark bu­il­dings rush past his win­dow.

    Goodbye Zachry, he tho­ught. Fa­re­well, pop. 67.

    Then the ot­her car ap­pe­ared in the re­ar-vi­ew mir­ror. Abo­ut half a block be­hind, a se­dan with a tur­ning red spot­light on its ro­of. He knew what kind of car it was. His fo­ot cur­led off the ac­ce­le­ra­tor and he felt his he­art­be­at qu­ic­ken. Was it pos­sib­le they hadn't no­ti­ced how fast he was go­ing?

    The qu­es­ti­on was ans­we­red as the dark car pul­led up to the Ford and a man in a big hat le­aned out of the front win­dow. Pull over!' he bar­ked.

    Swallowing dryly, Mr Ketc­hum eased his car over to the kerb. He drew up the emer­gency bra­ke, tur­ned the ig­ni­ti­on key and the car was still. The po­li­ce car no­sed in to­wards the kerb and stop­ped. The right front do­or ope­ned.

    The gla­re of Mr Ketc­hum's he­ad­lights out­li­ned the dark fi­gu­re ap­pro­ac­hing. He felt aro­und qu­ickly with his left fo­...