Sherlock in Cheyenne - The Adventure of the Babel Plants - Part Three

Part Three

Hi there, I'm back. Sam somehow got it across to the Air Force what was at stake. My sister is OK, I'm OK. As far as I know, everyone else is OK.

I've been on a date. We went to a baseball game. Then we played chess. I have some algebra to look at. I'm going jogging too. Got TV to watch soon - Twilight Zone, might be pertinent. Plus I'll get out the telescope for a short session with the Moon. Lastly, I'll reread some Sherlock Holmes stories. Tomorrow is a guitar lesson (self-taught.)

Sam's Hobby Shop is no more. Sam left town abruptly. No return of Sherlock Holmes. We really didn't do so badly. I hope the seaside is all he hoped for.

The algebra is almost done. There is a knock at the door. Now no one in this family ever knocks. So a salesman got in the back way? It's possible.

Then I hear - My dear boy, may I come in?

Sherlock Holmes!

Come in! And in came Sherlock Holmes, in a parka with mittens, and snow boots. Good lord, what's the getup?

For winter, though the cold will not adversely affect me, I must seem to be prepared. True enough?

True. (I shook his hand, sans mitten, furiously.) Boy am I glad to see you!

I am glad to be back. We must reunite in any event.

Ah, save the world yet again, I said jovially.

Certainly so, he said seriously, and then he smiled. May I - he gestured toward the armchair.

Of course, of course, it is your chair. Mom wanted to toss it, saying it was ratty looking but I said it was a good reading chair. True enough - for you.

How have you been, my boy?

Well enough. How was the coast?

Never mind the coast, I was in the mountains of Colorado. I ascended a peak not far from the Wyoming border and found a summer cabin. I nary disturbed a mote while there. I smoked in the cabin as I wished. On their wireless I heard that They were countervened. How was it done?

I related how it came about.

You see? We are a team. Your role was indispensable.

I did not pick up on that but related we ought to give thanks to Sam.

Not so fast, my boy. Sam is confined on the base for an indefinite period.

Huh?

He attempted to sell our cure to the Air Force.

Oh, so that explains why he is out of business.

Yes, indeed. Tutor Holmes returns! Shall we resume?

Huh?

I'll have a seat and take a look at the newspaper.

He had sat down and with me sitting on the bed when he looked up at the east window, the only window in the basement, a small one, and high on the wall.

Odd, he said, it’s all stopped.

I looked out the window and couldn't see what he saw. He, as they said in Victorian times, "sprang" from his chair. I rushed for the door.

Outside all was motionless except for us, and we would soon know of others. But we could see no people. I walked two blocks to Buffalo Ridge Road and saw six cars headed north and four going south. None of the cars were occupied.

This was the first "frozen moment" we had noticed. We may have missed ones of a few seconds in duration. But this one was lasting a much longer time. I walked back home. We went downstairs. Mr. Holmes had just gotten started reading and I was on the bed when the door burst open. I recognized the black hair, the black beard.

Ok, who’s the wise guy? he asked. Then with a pistol he shot Mr. Holmes. As an afterthought, he shot me in the head.

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I awoke with a terrible headache. Mr. Holmes was sitting on the edge of the bed.

Interesting, Mr. Holmes said, is it not?

What? Ow!

Head painful?

A shot to the head and I am alive. Is that what you mean by "interesting"?

Yes, good shot, between the eyes.

Good for him, and you?

The bullet had no effect on me. It had a more forceful charge in your case. But I hazard a guess that your headache will be gone straight away and with no lasting ill effects.

So we learn more about this world. In fact, I know the failed assassin.

Do tell.

Yes, he was Mr. Zeegler, a shop teacher at my school.

I doubt it was he. More likely in disguise or a facsimile.

Why not the real thing?

I think They of the Babel plants have in Their employ or by some arrangement those who can do Their bidding.

Robots?

Robots, what are they?

From a more later time, if like him, mostly of use in industry or domestically. They were mostly confined to fiction for a long time.

Why don't you accost Mr. Zeegler tomorrow at school?

Accost? How?

If necessary, use my revolver.

Whatever for?

Mr. Holmes looked at me as if I were a dunce.

No way! I would be out of school! I mean, for crying out loud! I would be in prison!

Come, come no need to become so ruffled. You would not of course be with him in public. Never you mind. I will chat him up. I will be an uncle of yours.

How long have you had that revolver?

From the beginning. I have two, actually. Would you want one? I can always procure more.

Can I see it? (I held out my hand). Ah, Smith and Wesson, 38. No, I can't carry one. Kids in my day didn't need them. Too many questions.

Well, should we be attacked again, I can provide you with arms.

Thanks.

Mr. Holmes interviewed Mr. Zeegler. I had never liked Mr. Zeegler. In shop we built iron mud scrapers, plastic peanuts trays with heat shaping; wood bowls with lathes, and small electronics. It was implied I needed to get a radio kit (he probably got a kickback on every purchase.) I declined; we couldn't afford it. The jerk lowered my grade.

Mr. Holmes thought Mr. Zeegler, the shop teacher, to be harmless. The other Mr. Zeegler was in with Them. He looks to me as Mr. Zeegler because he stands out as a lousy excuse for a teacher. Among all the others at the school I had (and have) nothing but praise, unless they be PE teachers and one science teacher that gave us all electrical shocks. Teachers came with the territory. Teachers were teachers. They got our respect without much quibble. Later, older as I became, as the era evaporated, fewer teachers got respect because of their status.

Winter was coming. Cheyenne is a windy place and wintry winds were awful at times. I hugged the space heater. Mr. Holmes read the newspaper.

Ah, said Mr. Holmes, again our intrepid reporter strikes. Notice how early we again encounter Their projects. It has snowed near Scottsbluff, Nebraska, a great deal. The weather has warmed, and the snow is not melting.