Earth Abides

They talked, Ezra leading the conversation, as usual. Charlie asked if he might have a drink. Jack brought him a bottle of brandy and a glass. He drank steadily, but with the habitual drinker’s slow absorption. He gave no sign of either excitement or drunkenness.

“I’m still chilly,” said Ezra.

“You’re not getting sick, are you?” said Em.

Ish himself felt a little chill of uneasiness. Sickness was so uncommon with them that any occurrence of it was a matter of note.

“Don’t know,” said Ezra. “If this was the Old Times, I’d think I was getting a cold. Of course, it can’t be that now.”

They piled more wood on the fire, and the room grew so uncomfortable to Ish that he took off his sweater and sat in his shirt sleeves. Then Charlie took off his coat also, and unbuttoned his vest, but did not take it off.

George comfortably settled down into his end of the davenport, and went to sleep. His absence did not make much difference in the conversation. Charlie continued his work on the bottle of brandy, but still it made no difference to him except that from the heat of the fire and from the brandy, his forehead was greasy with perspiration.

Ish could tell now that Ezra was swinging the conversation around, this way and that, to get more information about Charlie’s background. But finesse seemed not to be required, for Charlie talked frankly enough whenever the subject came close to him.

“So after she croaked—” he said. “That was after we’d lived together for quite a few years, ten or twelve, I guess. Well, after my woman died, I didn’t want to stay there no more, not around that place. So, when your boys came along, and I liked them, I picked up and came.”

As Charlie talked, Ish began to feel himself swinging in the other direction again. The boys liked Charlie immensely, and they had been with him for some time already. There was strength in Charlie, and charm also. Perhaps he would be a good man to add to the community. He noticed now that whole beads of sweat were standing out on Charlie’s forehead.

“Charlie,” he said, “you’d better take that vest off and be comfortable.”

Charlie started, but did not say anything.

“I’m sorry,” Ezra said. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Maybe I’d better go home, get to bed.” But he made no move to go.

“Surely you can’t be getting a cold, Ez,” said Em. “There’s never been a cold!”

They persuaded Charlie to move, himself and his brandy bottle, to a place farther from the fire, but he kept his vest on.

Charlie sat there, and the two house-dogs came nuzzling around him. Obviously, even the dogs were interested in the stranger; he must mean a lot of new smells. But they sensed that the stranger had been received. Although at first they were merely neutral, soon they relaxed comfortably under Charlie’s pulling of their ears and scratching of their backs. Their tails wagged.

Ish, always realizing that people were likely to baffle him, felt himself swing back and forth. Now he sensed both power and charm in Charlie, and felt almost warm toward him. And then the very sense of power and charm caused him to react, perhaps with fear for his own position as a dominant force in the community, and he felt Charlie only as a thing of evil.

At last George woke from his nap, stretched his big body and rose, saying that it was time for him to get home to bed. The others made ready to go with him. Ish knew that Ezra would want to say a word to him personally before going, and so he drew Ezra aside into the kitchen.

“You feeling bad?”

“Me? No,” said Ezra. “Never felt better in my life.”

Ezra smiled, and Ish began to see light. “You weren’t chilly?” he asked.

“Never felt less chilly in my life,” said Ezra. “Just wanted to see if we could make Charlie take his vest off. I didn’t think we could. He don’t like to be away from it. Makes me pretty sure about what I think I see anyway. He’s got a vest-pocket he’s deepened himself, enlarged it. He’s got in it one of those little things they used to make for ladies to carry around in their purses—just a small piece of hardware!”

Ish had a sudden sense of relief. Anything as simple and concrete as a pistol—that could be handled! His relief faded as Ezra went on:

“I wish I was sure about him. Sometimes I think there’s something ugly and dirty and mean—clear to the middle of him. Sometimes I think he’ll be my best friend. Always, though, I know he’s one that knows what he wants and generally gets it.”

When they went back to the living-room, George was just leaving.

“This is the best thing that’s happened to us for a long time,” he was saying to Charlie. “We’ve needed another strong man. We hope you stay with us.”

There was a general confirmation chorus from the others, as all of them,

Charlie and Ezra included, went out the door.

Ish was left standing with his thoughts. He had tried to join in the chorus, but his tongue had been suddenly stiff and his mouth dry. All he could think now was: “Something dirty and ugly and mean—clear to the middle of him.”

Chapter 7