Lifeforce by Colin Wilson Read Free Book Online

gently, like a child waking from sleep. He stared at her, experiencing an amazement that seemed to expand in waves. It was something he had never expected to see, some distant memory of childhood that had left no trace on his consciousness. It had something to do with trees and running water, and a fairy or water spirit who was also his mother. Beside this woman, all women in the world were crude, half-masculine copies. He felt his face twitching with a desire to burst into tears. His eyes wandered over her naked body, without lust, only with amazement at her beauty.
    She smiled and held out her arms, like a child asking to be picked up. He reached out to take her hands, then stumbled over the body. He looked down and saw the grey, shiny face and the white hair; the clothes now looked several sizes too big. With sudden total certainty, the same certainty he had known when he saw Seth’s body stiffen on the television screen, he knew she had just sucked the life from a human being. He looked back at her, still feeling no horror. He said: “Why did you have to do that?”
    She said nothing, but he seemed to feel her reply in his head. It was not clear; she seemed to be excusing herself, saying that it was necessary. Her hands were still held out; he shook his head, backing away. The girl sat up and climbed gracefully out of the drawer. She moved quickly, with total control, like a ballet dancer. Then she came and stood in front of him, and smiled.
    At close quarters, even a beautiful woman shows defects. This girl had none; she was as beautiful as when she was at a distance. She reached up and started to put her arms around his neck. Inside his head, she was saying: “Make love to me. I know you love me. Use my body.” It was true; he loved her. He backed away, pushing aside her hands. The flesh was warm, slightly warmer than human flesh. He was not rejecting her; he wanted her with a greater intensity than he had wanted any woman, but he had always been a man of self-control; he attached importance to behaving like a gentleman. It would have been against all his instincts to make love to her where they were, in the specimen room.
    He looked down again at the body, and it struck him that she had sucked out the man’s life, sucked out the results of twenty years of growth and organisation, as gluttonously as a hungry child drinks an ice cream soda. He said: “You murdered him.”
    She took his hand, and he felt a glow of delight at the contact. Suddenly, all inhibitions vanished. She was urging him to go with her, somewhere where they could make love, and he wanted to do it. Still looking at the body, he knew that it would probably mean his death, but this seemed unimportant. He understood something he could not put into words. But his masculine training still resisted.
    She put her arms round his neck and pulled his mouth down to hers. He kissed her, feeling the warmth of her naked body against him, his hands pressed against her waist and her buttocks. Now he understood more consciously what he had known since she opened her eyes. She could not take his life unless he gave it. She was offering to surrender to him; while he still held back, she had no power to take him. But he was aware that it was only a matter of how soon his gentlemanly self-control would dissolve.
    Bukovsky’s voice said irritably: “Carlsen, where the hell are you?” It came from the laboratory. He stiffened and stopped kissing her. She released him unconcernedly and looked through the door. He felt her say: “I must go. How can I get out?”
    His thoughts told her she needed clothes. She looked down at the body. He said: “No. They are men’s clothes.” She reached into his pocket, took out his wallet, and extracted his pass card. He made no effort to prevent her. Then she turned and walked out of the door. He followed her to the doorway. He could see Bukovsky on the lab telescreen talking to someone on the other side of his desk, saying: “I