Lifeforce by Colin Wilson Read Free Book Online Page A

know he’s on that floor.” He looked up and saw Carlsen. “There you are.” The girl went out. Suddenly, Carlsen grasped his danger. It hit him with delayed shock; the realisation that this girl had been about to drink his life — with his full consent. All his strength went out of his body. He felt his knees buckle. He grasped the door for support and sank to the floor, still fully conscious, but utterly, completely weary, drained as if he had exhausted himself with some tremendous physical effort.
    Bukovsky was bending over him. He had no recollection of becoming unconscious, only of dozing pleasantly. “What’s happened, Carlsen?”
    He said sleepily: “They’re vampires. They suck life.”
    He was on the couch in Bukovsky’s outer office. Harlow, in charge of Security, was sitting on a chair, bending over him. “Who’s the old man on the floor?”
    He made an effort and sat up. He had the warm, woolly sensation he had experienced coming round from anaesthetic. “He’s not an old man. He’s a boy of twenty.”
    Harlow evidently thought him delirious. He said: “Where’s the woman gone?”
    “She woke up. She came to life. I saw it through the telescreen in my office.”
    He found he had some difficulty in speaking, as if his coordination had gone. Stumbling over words, feeling as if he had some large, uncomfortable object in his mouth, he began to tell his story.
    Bukovsky snapped: “You brought a reporter back here? You know that’s against all the regulations.”
    He said, wearily but stubbornly, “No, it’s not. It’s my decision. It’s my press conference tomorrow. He was the son of an old friend. I just wanted to help him.”
    “Well, you certainly helped him.”
    Harlow was at the telescreen giving orders. He heard him say: “If you see her, don’t try to approach. Just shoot.”
    The words brought a twist of pain. Then it struck him that she had his card; she could be anywhere in the building, or perhaps out of it.
    Gradually, under the influence of black coffee, he was beginning to feel better. To his astonishment, he was hungrier than he had been since he arrived back on earth. He said: “Do you think I could have a sandwich? I’m ravenous.”
    Bukovsky said: “Okay. Go on. What happened after you rang me?”
    “I watched her kill him — over the telescreen. Then I went down.”
    “Was she still there?”
    “Yes.”
    “Why did you let her escape?”
    “I couldn’t stop her.”
    The doctor came in. He made Carlsen take off his coat and shirt, then checked his pulse and blood pressure. He said: “You seem to be perfectly normal to me. I think you’re suffering from shock — nervous exhaustion.”
    “Have you got a lambda meter?”
    “Yes.” He looked surprised.
    “Would you mind taking my lambda-field reading?”
    The doctor connected up the galvanometer to his left wrist and placed the other electrode under his heart. “It’s higher than it should be. Quite a lot higher.”
    “Higher?” He sat up. “Are you sure you’ve connected it the right way round?”
    “Quite. It makes no difference anyway.” Higher… It was true that he felt a strange, warm glow inside him, in spite of the fatigue. Yet he was certain she had taken some of his life. He also recalled how exhausted he had felt on the day they explored the derelict. And Steinberg and Ives had slept for twelve hours. These creatures had been sucking their life energy: of that he was certain. Yet his lambda reading was higher. In some way, she had given him energy, as well as taking it away.
    The sandwiches came. When he washed them down with beer, he felt better.
    Harlow came on the telescreen. “She’s definitely not on this floor — probably not in the building. We’ve searched everywhere.”
    “That’s impossible. She couldn’t get off this floor without a pass card.”
    “She had my pass card,” Carlsen said.
    “God, now he tells me!” Bukovsky turned back to Harlow. “So she can get to other