Free Selected Stories by Fritz Leiber by Fritz Leiber

delicate mechanisms need constant repair and there aren’t enough mechanics.
I put down my fork. “What are you really scared of?” I asked her.
For once her mask didn’t waver away from my face. As I waited I could feel the fears gathering without her naming them, tiny dark shapes swarming through the curved night outside, converging on the radioactive pest spot of New York, dipping into the margins of the purple. I felt a sudden rush of sympathy, a desire to protect the girl opposite me. The warm feeling added itself to the infatuation engendered in the cab.
“Everything,” she said finally.
I nodded and touched her hand.
“I’m afraid of the moon,” she began, her voice going dreamy and brittle, as it had in the cab. “You can’t look at it and not think of guided bombs.”
“It’s the same moon over England,” I reminded her.
“But it’s not England’s moon any more. It’s ours and Russia’s. You’re not responsible. Oh, and then,” she said with a tilt of her mask, “I’m afraid of the cars and the gangs and the loneliness and Inferno. I’m afraid of the lust that undresses your face. And”—her voice hushed—“I’m afraid of the wrestlers.”
“Yes?” I prompted softly after a moment.
Her mask came forward.“Do you know something about the wrestlers?” she asked rapidly. “The ones that wrestle women, I mean. They often lose, you know. And then they have to have a girl to take their frustration out on. A girl who’s soft and weak and terribly frightened. They need that, to keep them men. Other men don’t want them to have a girl. Other men want them just to fight women and be heroes. But they must have a girl. It’s horrible for her.”
I squeezed her fingers tighter, as if courage could be transmitted—granting I had any. “I think I can get you to England,” I said.
Shadows crawled onto the table and stayed there. I looked up at the three men who had been at the end of the bar. They were the men I had seen in the big coupe. They wore black sweaters and close-fitting black trousers. Their faces were as expressionless as dopers. Two of them stood about me. The other loomed over the girl.
“Drift off, man,”I was told. I heard the other inform the girl,“We’ll wrestle a fall, sister. What shall it be? Judo, slapsie or kill-who-can?”
I stood up. There are times when an Englishman simply must be maltreated. But just then the foxlike man came gliding in like the star of a ballet. The reaction of the other three startled me. They were acutely embarrassed.
He smiled at them thinly. “You won’t win my favor by tricks like this,” he said.
“Don’t get the wrong idea, Zirk,” one of them pleaded.
“I will if it’s right,” he said. “She told me what you tried to do this afternoon. That won’t endear you to me, either. Drift.”
They backed off awkwardly.“Let’s get out of here,”one of them said loudly as they turned. “I know a place where they fight naked with knives.”
Little Zirk laughed musically and slipped into the seat beside my companion. She shrank from him, just a little. I pushed my feet back, leaned forward.
“Who’s your friend, baby?” he asked, not looking at her.
She passed the question to me with a little gesture. I told him.“British,” he observed. “She’s been asking you about getting out of the country? About passports?” He smiled pleasantly. “She likes to start running away. Don’t you, baby?” His small hand began to stroke her wrist, the fingers bent a little, the tendons ridged, as if he were about to grab and twist.
“Look here,” I said sharply. “I have to be grateful to you for ordering off those bullies, but—”
“Think nothing of it,” he told me. “They’re no harm except when they’re behind steering wheels. A well-trained fourteen-year-old girl could cripple any one of them. Why, even Theda here, if she went in for that sort of thing…” He turned to her, shifting his hand from her wrist to her hair. He