Dracula Unbound by Brian W. Aldiss Read Free Book Online Page B

Pentagon?”
    Laughter followed the question, but Bodenland looked annoyed. “I’m against nuclear weapons and, for that matter, I’m enough of a confirmed Green to dislike nuclear power plants. Hence our research into PBS’s—power-beam sats. Solar energy, after many decades, is coming into its own at last. It will replace nuclear power in another quarter century, if I have anything to do with it.
    â€œHowever, to answer your question—as I have often answered it before—no, I emphatically reject the idea that the inertial principle has anything to do with time travel, at least as we understand time travel since the days of H. G. Wells.
    â€œWhat we have here is a form of time-stoppage. Anything—obviously not just toxic wastes—can be processed to stay right where it is, bang on today’s time and date, forever, while the rest of us continue subject to the clock. That applies even to the DOE.”
    As the last media man scooped up a handful of salted almonds and left, Mina turned to Bodenland.
    â€œYou are out of your mind, Joe. Taking unnecessary risks again. You might have been killed.”
    â€œCome on, it worked on mice.”
    â€œYou should have tried rats.”
    He laughed.
    â€œBirdie, I had an idea while I was in limbo. Something Kylie said stuck in my mind—that the ghost train and the discovery of Bernie Clift’s grave were somehow connected. Suppose it’s a time connection … That train, or whatever it is, must have physical substance. It’s not a ghost. It must obey physical laws, like everything else in the universe. Maybe the connection is a time connection. If we used the inertial principle in a portable form—rigged it up so that it would work from a helicopter—”
    â€œOh, shucks!” she cried, seeing what was in his mind. “No, no more funnies, please. You wouldn’t want to be aboard that thing even if you could get in. It’s packed with zombies going god knows where. Joe, I won’t let you.”
    He put his hands soothingly on her shoulders. “Mina, listen—”
    â€œHow many years have I listened? To what effect? To more stress and strain, to more of your bullshit?”
    â€œI have to get on that train. I’m sure it could be done. It’s no worse than your skydiving. Leap into the unknown—that’s what we’re all about, darling.”
    â€œOh shit,” she said.

3
    At some time in the past, the cell had been whitewashed in the interests of cleanliness. It was now filthy. Straw, dust, pages of old newspaper, a lump of human ordure littered the stone-paved floor.
    A mouse ran full tilt along one of the walls. Its coat was gray, with longer russet hair over the shoulders. It moved with perfect grace, its beady eyes fixed on the madman ahead, and more particularly on his open mouth.
    Strapped within a straitjacket, the lunatic lay horizontal on the floor. The straitjacket was of canvas, with leather straps securing it, imprisoning the arms of the madman behind his back.
    He had kicked his semen-stained gray mattress into a corner, to lie stretched out on the stones, his head wedged into another corner.
    He was motionless. His eyes gleamed as he kept his gaze on the mouse, never blinking. His chops gaped wide, his tongue curled back. Saliva dripped slowly to the ground.
    The mouse had been foraging in one of the holes in the old mattress when the madman fixed it with his gaze. The mouse had remained still, staring back, as if undergoing some internal struggle. Then its limbs had started to twitch and move. It had slewed round, squealing pitifully. Then it had begun its run toward the open jaws.
    There was no holding back. It was committed. Scuttling along with one flank close to the wall, it ran for the waiting face. With a final leap, it was in the mouth. The madman’s jaws snapped shut.
    His eyes bulged. He lay still, body without movement. Only his jaws