The First One - Herbert D Kastle

Listen Ad Free https://www.solgoodmedia.com - Listen to hundreds of audiobooks, thousands of short stories, and ambient sounds all ad free!

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
The first one by Herbert D. Castle. There was the
usual welcoming crowd for a celebrity, and the usual speeches
by the usual politicians who met him at the airport,
which had once been twenty miles outside of Croton, but
which the growing city had since engulfed and placed well
within its boundaries. But everything wasn't usual. The crowd was quiet,

(00:22):
and the mayor didn't seem quite as at ease as
he'd been on his last big welcoming for Corporal Bearringer,
one of the crew of the spaceship Washington, first to
set Americans upon Mars. His honor's hand clasp was somewhat
moist and cold. His Honor's eyes held a trace of remoteness. Still,
he was the honored home comer, the successful returnee, the

(00:43):
home town boy who had made good in a big way.
And they took the triumphal tour up Main Street to
the New Square. In the grand stand. There he sat
between the Mayor in a nervous young kohed, chosen as
home coming Queen, and looked out at the police and
Fire Department bands, the National Guard, the Boy Scouts and
Girls Scouts, the Elks and Masons, several of the churches

(01:04):
in town had shown indecision as to how to instruct
their parishioners to treat him, but they had all come round.
The tremendous national interest the fact that he was the
first one had made them come around. It was obvious
by now that they would have to adjust, as they
had adjusted to all the other firsts taking place in
these as the newspapers had dubbed the start of the

(01:25):
twenty first century the galloping twenties. He was glad when
the official greeting was over. He was a very tired man,
and he had come further, traveled longer, and over darker
country than any man who'd ever lived before. He wanted
a meal at his own table, a kiss from his wife,
a word from his son, and later to see some

(01:45):
old friends in a relative or two. He didn't want
to talk about the journey. He wanted to forget the immediacy,
the urgency, the terror. Then perhaps he would talk, or
would he, for he had very little to tell. He
had traveled, and he had returned, and his voyage was
very much like the voyages of the great mariners from
Columbus onward, long dull periods of time passing passing, and

(02:09):
then the arrival. The house had changed. He saw that
as soon as the official car let him off at
forty five Roosevelt Street. The change was, he knew for
the better. They'd put a porch in front. They had rehabilitated,
spruced up, almost rebuilt the entire outside and grounds. But
he was sorry. He'd wanted it to be as before

(02:31):
the head of the American Legion and the chief of police,
who had escorted him on this trip from the Square
didn't ask to go in with him. He was glad
he'd had enough of strangers, not that he was through
with strangers. There were dozens of them up and down
the streets, standing beside parked cars, looking at him, but
when he looked back at them, their eyes dropped, they

(02:52):
turned away, they began moving off. He was still too
much The first one to have his gaze met up
what had once been a concrete path and was now
an ornate flagstone path. He climbed the new porch and
raised the ornamental knocker on the new door and heard
the soft music sound within. He was surprised that he'd

(03:12):
had to do this. He thought Edith would be watching
at a window, and perhaps she had been watching, but
she hadn't opened the door. The door opened, he looked
at her. It hadn't been too long, and she hadn't
changed at all. She was still the small slender girl
he had loved in high school, the small slender woman

(03:33):
he'd married twelve years ago. Ralphie was with her. They
held on to each other, as if seeking mutual support,
the thirty three year old woman and ten year old boy.
They looked at him, and then both moved forward, still together.
He said, it's good to be home. Edith nodded, and,
still holding to Ralphie with one hand, put the other

(03:54):
arm around him. He kissed her, her neck, her cheek,
and all the old jokes came to mind, mind, the
jokes of trouble weary, battle weary men, the and then
I'll put my pack aside, jokes that spoke of terrible hunger.
She was trembling, and even as her lips came up
to touch his, he felt the difference. And because of
this difference, he turned with urgency to Ralphie and picked

(04:16):
him up and hugged him, and said, because he could
think of nothing else to say, what a big fellow,
What a big fellow, Ralphie stood in his arms as
if his feet were still planted on the floor, and
he didn't look at his father, but somewhere beyond him.
I didn't grow much while you were gone. Dat mom says,
I don't eat enough. So he put him down and

(04:37):
told himself that it was all changed, that everything would
loosen up, just as his commanding officer, General Carlyle, had
said it would early this morning, before he left Washington.
Give at some time. Carlyle had said, you need the time,
They need the time, and for the love of Heaven,
don't be sensitive. Edith was leading him into the living room,

(04:57):
her hand lying still in his, a cool dead bird
lying still in his. He sat down on the couch.
She sat down beside him, but she had hesitated. He
wasn't being sensitive. She had hesitated. His wife had hesitated
before sitting down beside him. Carlyle had said his position

(05:18):
was analogous to Columbus to Vasco de Gamas, to presh
Offs when the Russian returned from the moon. But more so,
Carlyle had said lots of things. But even Carlyle, who
had worked with him all the way, who had engineered
the entire fantastic journey. Even Carlyle, a Nobel Prize winner,
the multi degree genius in uniform, had not actually spoken

(05:39):
to him as one man to another. The eyes, it
always showed in their eyes. He looked across the room
at Ralphie standing in the doorway, a boy already tall,
already widening in the shoulders, already large of feature. It
was like looking into the mirror and seeing himself twenty
five years ago. But Ralphie, his face was drawn, was

(06:01):
worried in a way that few ten year old faces are.
How's it going in school? He asked, Gee, Dad, it's
the second month of summer vacation. Well, then, before summer vacation,
pretty good. Edith said, he made top forum the six
month period before vacation, and he made top forum the

(06:22):
six month period you went away, Hank. He nodded, remembering that,
remembering everything, remembering the warmth of her farewell, the warmth
of Ralphie's farewell, their tears. As he left the experimental
flight station in the Aleutians. They had feared for him,
having read of the many launchings gone wrong, even in
continent to continent experimental flight. They had been right to worry.

(06:46):
It suffered much after that blow up, but now they
should be rejoicing because he'd survived and made the long journey.
Ralphie suddenly said, I gotta go, Dad. I promised Walt
and the others. I'd pitch. It's into town, little league.
You know it's harmon, you know I got to keep
my word. Without waiting for an answer, he waved his hand.

(07:06):
It shook a ten year old boy's hand, that shook
and ran from the room and from the house. He
and Edith sat beside each other, and he wanted badly
to take her in his arms, and yet he didn't
want to oppress her. He stood up, I'm very tired.
I'd like to lie down for a while, which wasn't true,
because he'd been lying down all the months of the

(07:27):
way back. She said, of course, how stupid of me
expecting you to sit around and make small talk and
pick up just where you left off. He nodded, but
that was exactly what he wanted to do, make small
talk and pick up just where he'd left off. But
they didn't expect it of him. They wouldn't let him.

(07:47):
They felt he'd changed too much. She led him upstairs
and along the foyer passed Ralphie's room and passed the
small guest room to their bedroom. This too had changed.
It was newly painted, and it had new furniture. He
saw twin beds separated by an ornate little table with
an ornate little lamp, and this looked more ominous a

(08:08):
barrier to him than the twelve foot concrete and barbed
wire fence around the experimental station. Which one is mine,
he asked, and tried to smile. She also tried to smile.
The one near the window. You always liked the fresh air,
the sunshine in the morning. You always said it helped
you to get up on time when you were stationed
at the base outside of town. You always said it

(08:30):
reminded you, being able to see the sky, that you
were going to go up in it, and that you
were going to come down from it to this bed again.
Not this bed, he murmured, and was a little sorry afterward. No,
not this bed, she said quickly. Your lodge donated the
bedroom set, and I really didn't know. She waved her hand,
her face white. He was sure then that she had known,

(08:53):
and that the beds in the barrier between them were
her own choice. If only an unconscious choice. He went
to the bed near the window, stripped off his Air
Force blue jacket, began to take off his shirt, but
then remembered that some arm scars still showed. He waited
for her to leave the room. She said, well, then
rest up, deer, and went out. He took off his

(09:16):
shirt and saw himself in the mirror on the opposite wall,
and then took off his undershirt. The body scars were faint,
the scars running in long lines, one dissecting his chest,
the other slicing diagonally across his upper abdomen to disappear
under his trousers. There were several more on his back
and one on his right side. They had been treated
properly and would soon disappear, But she had never seen them.

(09:40):
Perhaps she never would. Perhaps pajamas and robes and dark
rooms would keep them from her until they were gone.
Which was not what he had considered at all important
on leaving Walter Reed Hospital early this morning, which was
something he found distasteful, something he felt beneath them both,
And at the same time he began to understan that
there would be many things previously beneath them both which

(10:03):
would have to be considered she had changed, Ralphia had changed.
All the people he knew had probably changed because they
thought he had changed. He was tired of thinking. He
lay down and closed his eyes. He let himself taste bitterness, unhappiness,
a loneliness he had never known before. But some time later,

(10:24):
as he was dozing off, a sense of reassurance began
filtering into his mind. After all, he was still Henry Devers,
the same man who had left home eleven months ago,
with a love for family and friends, which was, if anything,
stronger than before. Once he could communicate this, the strangeness
would disappear, and the first one would again become good
old Hank. It was little enough to ask for a

(10:47):
return to old values, old relationships, the normalcies of the
backwash instead of the pharaneticisms of the limelight. It would
certainly be granted to him. He slept. Dinner was at
seven p m. His mother came, His uncle Joe and
aunt Lucille came together with Edith, Ralphie and himself. They

(11:08):
made six and ate in the dining room at the
big table. Before he'd become the first one, it would
have been a noisy affair. His family had never been
noted for lack of a bulliance, a lack of talkativeness,
and Ralphie had always chosen meal times, especially with company present,
to describe everything and anything that had happened to him
during the day. And Edith herself had always chattered, especially

(11:31):
with his mother, Although they didn't agree about much, still
it had been good natured. The general tone of their
lives had been good natured. This wasn't good natured. Exactly
what it was, he wasn't sure. Stiff was perhaps the word.
They began with grapefruit, Edith and mother, serving quickly efficiently

(11:52):
from the kitchen, then sitting down at the table. He
looked at mother as he raised his first spoonful of
chilled fruit and said, Younger the never It was nothing new.
He'd said it many times before, but his mother had
always reacted with a bright smile and equipped something like
young for the Golden age Center. You mean this time?

(12:12):
She burst into tears. It shocked him, But what shocked
him even more was the fact that no one looked up, commented,
made any attempt to comfort her. No one indicated in
any way that a woman was sobbing at the table
He was sitting directly across from mother and reached out
and touched her left hand, which lay limply beside the
silver ware. She didn't move it. She hadn't touched him

(12:34):
once beyond that first quick, strangely cool embrace at the door.
Then a few seconds later she withdrew it and let
it drop out of sight. So there he was, Henry
Deavers at home with the family. So there he was
the hero returned, waiting to be treated as a human being.
The grapefruit shells were cleaned away and the soup served.

(12:55):
Uncle Joe began to talk. The greatest little development of
circular uniform houses you ever did see, he boomed in
his powerful salesman's voice, still going like sixty we'll sell
out before. At that point he looked at Hank, and
Hank nodded encouragement, desperately interested in this normalcy, and Joe's
voice died away. He looked down at his plate, mumbled

(13:19):
with soups getting cold, and began to eat. His hand
shook a little. His ruddy face was not quite as
ruddy as Hank remembered it. Aunt Lucille made a few
quavering statements about the ladies Tuesday Garden Club and Hank
looked across the table to where she sat between Joe
and mother. His wife and son bracketed him, and yet
he felt alone and said, I've missed fooling around with

(13:42):
the lawn and the rose bushes. Here it is August,
and I haven't had my hand or mower or trowel.
Aunt Lucille smiled if you could call it that a
pitiful twitching of the lips, and nodded. She threw her
eyes in his direction and passed him, and then down
to her plate. Mother, who was still sniffling, said I
have a dismal headache. I'm going to lie down in

(14:04):
the guest room. Awhile she touched his shoulder in passing
his affectionate, effusive mother, who would kissed stray dogs and
strange children, who had often irritated him with an excess
of physical and verbal caresses, she barely touched his shoulder
and fled. So now five of them sat at the table.
The meat was served thin rare slices of beef, the

(14:26):
pink blood juice oozing warmly from the center. He cut
into it and raised a forkfall to his mouth, then
glanced at Ralphie and said, looks fresh enough to have
been killed in the back yard. Ralphie said, yeer dad art.
Licille put down her knife and fork and murmured something
to her husband. Joe cleared his throat and said Lucille

(14:47):
was rapidly becoming a vegetarian. And he guessed she was
going into the living room for a while. She'll be
back for dessert, of course, he said, his laugh sounding forced.
Hank looked at Edith. Edith was busy with her plate.
Hank looked at Ralphie. Ralphie was busy with his plate.
Hank looked at Joe. Joe was chewing, gazing out over

(15:08):
their heads to the kitchen. Hank looked at Lucille. She
was disappearing into the living room. He brought his fist
down on the table. The settings jumped, a glass overturned,
spilling water. He brought it down again and again. They
were all standing now. He sat there and pounded the
table with his big right fist. Henry Deavers, who would

(15:29):
never have thought of making such a scene before, but
who was now so sick and tired of being treated
as the first one of being stood back from, looked
at him, awe of felt in fear of that he
could have smashed more than a table. Edith said, hank,
He said, voice hoarse, shut up, go away, let me
eat alone. I'm sick of the lot of you. Mother.

(15:52):
And Joe returned a few minutes later, where he sat
forcing food down his throat. Mother said, henry, dear. He
did answer. She began to cry, and he was glad
she left the house. Then he had never said anything
really bad to his mother. He was afraid this would
have been the time. Joe merely cleared his throat and
mumbled something about getting together again soon and drop out

(16:15):
and see the new development, and he too was gone.
Lucille never did manage to speak to him. He finished
his beef and waited. Soon Edith came in with the
special dessert she had been preparing half the day, a
magnificent English trifle. She served him and spooned out a
portion for herself and Ralphie. She hesitated near his chair,

(16:37):
and when he made no comment, she called the boy.
Then the three of them were sitting facing the empty
side of the table. They ate the trifle. Ralphie finished
first and got up and said, pay, I promised you
promised the boys s you'd play baseball or football or
handball or something anything to get away from your father.
Ralphie's head dropped and he muttered, ah, no, Dad. Edith

(17:01):
said he'll stay home, Hank. We'll spend an evening together talking,
watching TV, playing Monopoly, Ralph he said. She shure, Dad,
if you want to, Hank stood up. The question is
not whether I want to. You both know I want to.
The question is whether you want to. They answered together
that of course they wanted too. But their eyes, his

(17:23):
wife's and son's eyes, could not meet his, and so
he said he was going to his room because he was,
after all, very tired, and would in all probability continue
to be very tired for a long long time, and
that they shouldn't count on him for normal social life.
He fell asleep quickly, lying there in his clothes, but
he didn't sleep long. Edith shook him, and he opened

(17:45):
his eyes to a lighted room. Phil and Rona are here.
He blinked at her. She smiled, and it seemed her
old smile. They're so anxious to see you, Hank. I
could barely keep Phil from coming up and waking you himself.
They want to go out and do that town, please, Hanks,
say you will. He sat up Phil, He muttered, phil

(18:05):
and Rona. They'd had wonderful times together from grammar school
on phil and Rona their oldest and closest friends. Perhaps
this would begin his real home coming to the town
they had painted and then tear it down. It didn't
turn out that way. He was disappointed, but then again
he had also expected it. This entire first day at

(18:27):
home had conditioned him to expect nothing good. They went
to the bowling alleys and Phil sounded very much the
way he always had, soft spoken and full of laughter
and full of jokes. He patted Edith on the head
the way he always had, and clapped Hank on the shoulder,
but not the way he always had, so much more gently,
almost remotely, and insisted they all drink more than was

(18:50):
good for them, as he always had, And for once,
Hank was ready to go along on the drinking. For once,
he matched Phil shot for shot, beer for beer. They
didn't bowl very long. At ten o'clock they crossed the
road to Manfred's tavern, where Phil and the girls ordered
sandwiches and coffee, and Hank went right on drinking. Edith

(19:10):
said something to him, but he merely smiled and waved
his hand and gulped another ounce of Nirvana. There was
dancing to a duke box in Manfred's tavern. He'd been
there many times before, and he was sure several of
the couples recognized him, But except for a few abortive
glances in his direction, it was as if he were
a stranger in a city half way round the world.

(19:32):
At midnight, he was still drinking. The others wanted to leave,
but he said, I haven't danced with my girl Rona.
His tongue was thick, his mind was blurred, and yet
he could read the strange expression on her face. Pretty Rona,
who'd always flirted with him, who'd made a ritual of
flirting with him, Pretty Rona, who now looked as if

(19:52):
she were going to be sick. Oh less, roc, he said,
and stood up. They were on the dance floor. He
held her close and hummed and chattered, and through the
alcoholic haze saw she was a stiff, smiled, stiff bodied,
mechanical dancing doll. The number finished, they walked back to
the booth. Phil said, Betty. By time, Hank said, first

(20:16):
one dance with my loving wife. He and Edith danced,
He didn't hold her close as he had Roona. He
waited for her to come close on her own, and
she did. And yet she didn't because while she put
herself against him, there was something in her face, no,
in her eyes, it always showed any eyes that made
him know she was trying to be the old Edith

(20:36):
and not succeeding this time. When the music ended, he
was ready to go home. They rode back to town
along Route nine, he and Edith in the rear of
Phil's car, Rona driving because Philip drunk just a little
too much. Phil singing and telling an occasional bad joke
and somehow not his old self. No one was his

(20:58):
old self, no one would ever be his old self.
With the first one. They turned left to take the
short cut along Hallowed Hill Road, and Phil finished a
story about a Martian and a Hollywood sex queen and
looked at his wife and then passed her at the
long cast iron fence paralleling the road. Hey, he said, pointing,
do you know why that's the most popular place on Earth.

(21:20):
Rona glanced to the left, and so did Hank and Edith.
Rona made a little sound, and Edith seemed to stop breathing,
but Phil went on a while longer, not yet aware
of his supposed faux pas. You know why, he repeated,
turning to the back seat, the laughter rumbling up from
his chest. You know why, folks, Rona said, did you

(21:42):
notice car Bracken and his wife at Hank said, no, Phil,
Why is it the most popular place on earth? Phil said,
because people are And then he caught himself and waved
his hand and muttered, I forgot the punch line. Because
people are dying to get in, Hank said, and looked

(22:03):
through the window, past the iron fence into the large
cemetery of the fleeting tombstones. The car was filled with
horrified silence when there should have been nothing but laughter
or irritation at a too old joke. Maybe you should
let me out right here, Hank said, I'm home, Or
that's what every one seems to think. Maybe I should

(22:24):
lie down in an open grave. Maybe that would satisfy people.
Maybe that's the only way to act like Dracula or
another monster from the movies. He's said, Oh, Hank, don't, don't.
The car raced along the road across to McCadam Highway
when four blocks and pulled to a stop. He didn't

(22:45):
bother saying good night. He didn't wait for Edith. He
just got out, walked up the flagstone path and entered
the house. Hank. Edith whispered from the guest room doorway.
I'm so sorry. There's nothing to be sorry about. It's
just a matter of time. It'll all work out in time, yes,
she said quickly. That's it. I need a little time.

(23:06):
We all need a little time, because it's so strange, Hank,
because it's so frightening. I should have told you the
moment you walked in. I think I've hurt you terribly.
We've all hurt you terribly by trying to hide that
we're frightened. I'm going to stay in the guest room,
he said, for as long as necessary for good, if
need be. How could it be for good? How? Hank?

(23:31):
That question was perhaps the first firm basis for hope
he'd had since returning. And there was something else what
Carlyle had told him, Even as Carlyle himself had reacted
as all men did. There are others coming, Edith. A't
that I know of in the tanks right now, my
superior captain Davidson, who died at the same moment I

(23:51):
did seven months ago. Next Wednesday, he's going to be next.
He was smashed up worse than I was, so it
took a little longer, but he's almost ready, and there'll
be many more, Edith. The government is going to save
all they possibly can from now on. Every time a
young and healthy man loses his life by accident by
violence and his body can be recovered, he'll go into

(24:13):
the tanks and they'll start the regenerative brain and organ process,
the process that made it all possible. So people have
to get used to us, and the old stories, the
old terrors, the ugly, old superstitions have to die, because
in time, each place will have some of us, because
in time it'll be an ordinary thing. Edith said, yes,

(24:34):
and I'm so grateful that you're here. Hank, please believe that.
Please be patient with me and Ralphie, and she paused,
there's one question. He knew what the question was. It
had been the first asked him by every one, from
the President of the United States on down. I saw nothing,
he said. It was as if I slept those six

(24:55):
and a half months, slept without dreaming. She came to
him and touched his face with her lips, and he
was satisfied. Later, half asleep, he heard a dog howling
and remembered stories of how they announced death and the
presence of monsters. He shivered and pulled the covers closer
to him, and luxuriated in being safe in his own home.

(25:19):
End of the First One by Herbert D. Castle