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167
The Status Civilization
·
Robert Sheckley
42
He
saw
light
through
a
heavily
shuttered
window.
He
stopped
and
pounded
at
the
shutters,
but
no
sound
came
from
inside.
He
realized
that
the
people
of
Tetrahyde
never
helped
anyone;
the
more
who
died,
the
more
chance
there
was
for
the
survivors.
So
Barrent
continued
running,
on
feet
that
felt
like
chunks
of
wood.
The
wind
shrieked
in
his
ear,
and
hailstones
the
size
of
his
fist
pelted
the
ground.
He
was
getting
too
tired
to
run.
All
he
could
do
now
was
walk,
through
a
frozen
white
world,
and
hope
he
would
reach
the
Wee
Coven.
He
walked
for
hours
or
for
years.
At
one
corner
he
passed
the
bodies
of
two
men
huddled
against
a
wall
and
covered
with
frost.
They
had
stopped
running
and
had
frozen
to
death.
Barrent
forced
himself
to
run
again.
A
stitch
in
his
side
felt
like
a
knife
wound,
and
the
cold
was
creeping
up
his
arms
and
down
his
legs.
Soon
the
cold
would
reach
his
chest,
and
that
would
be
the
end.
A
flurry
of
hailstones
stunned
him.
Without
conscious
transition
he
found
that
he
was
lying
on
the
icy
ground,
and
a
monstrous
wind
was
whirling
away
the
tiny
warmth
his
body
was
able
to
generate.
At
the
far
end
of
the
block
he
could
see
the
tiny
red
light
of
the
Coven.
He
crept
toward
it
on
hands
and
knees,
moving
mechanically,
not
really
expecting
to
get
there.
He
crawled
forever,
and
the
beckoning
red
light
always
remained
the
same
distance
from
him.
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