Page:Beyond Fantasy Fiction Volume 1 Issue 1 (1953-07).djvu/128

 hungry now. At first, even the full rations left me unsatisfied, but now I don’t even like the taste of the food. I suppose it’s because I’m getting no exercise.”

Hofmanstahal’s smile was gentle. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. We must keep a sharp lookout for ships. If one does not come soon, we will starve, though, of course, I will now cut down my own rations as well as yours.”

“I don’t care.”

“My poor Craig, when you regain your strength you will care very much. Like me, you will want to live and go on living.”

“Maybe. But now I feel that dying would be easy and pleasant. Better, maybe, than going back to the world.”

“The world is evil, yes; but the will to live in it drives all of us.”

Craig lay motionless and wondered, with a clarity of mind he had not experienced in many, many days, whether he dreaded going back to the world because the world was evil, or whether it was because he felt that he himself was tainted, unfit to mix with human beings again.

And Hofmanstahal might be a problem. Should he be reported to the authorities? No, for then they would know about Craig.

But was all that had happened so disgraceful, so reprehensible? Had Craig had any other choice but to do what he had done?

None.

His conscience, in the form of his father, screamed agony.

Well, then perhaps Hofmanstahal would try to force him to continue the relationship. Had he — pleased the Rumanian? He felt that he had

But surely gentle, considerate Hofmanstahal, the sensitive vampire, would not try to force—

Craig’s mind rebelled against such practical thoughts. They required too much effort. It was easier not to think at all—to lie as he had lain for so many days, peaceful, relaxed, uncaring.

Clarity of mind faded into the gray sameness of day and night. He ate. Hofmanstahal fed.

E was scarcely conscious when Hofmanstahal spotted the smoke on the horizon. The big man lifted him up so that he could see it. It was a ship, and it was coming in their direction.

“So—now it is over.” Hofmanstahal’s voice was soft; his hands were warm on Craig’s shoulders. “So it ends—our little idyll.” The hands tightened. “My friend my friend, before the ship comes, the men and the noise, the work and the worry and all that goes with it, let us for the last time—” His head bent, his lips found Craig’s throat with their almost sexual avidity.

Craig shivered. Over the 126