Way in the Middle of the Air

by Ray Bradbury

Slowly the black river moved past, an inexorable tide, bound for a strange, unbelievable rendezvous with a fleet of spaceships that was coming to take them to the promised land, to a land in the sky

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An A\NN/A Preservation Edition.

Notes

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DID you hear about it?

About what?

The niggers, the niggers!

What about em?

Their leavingpulling outgoing away; did you hear?

What you mean, pulling out, how can they do that?

They not only can, but they will, and are.

Just a couple?

All of them!

No.

Yes!

I got to see that. I dont believe it. Where they goingAfrica?

A silence.

Mars.

You mean the planet Mars?

Thats right.

The men stood up in the hot shade of the hardware porch. Some one quit lighting a pipe. Somebody else spat out into the hot dust of noon.

They cant leave, they cant do that.

Theyre doing it, anyways.

Whered you hear this?

Its everywhere, on the radio a minute ago, just come through.

Like a series of dusty statues, the men came to life.

Samuel Teece, the hardware proprietor, laughed uneasily. I wondered what happened to Silly. I sent him on my bike an hour ago, and he aint come back from Mrs. Bordmans yet. You think that black fool just pedaled off to Mars?

The men snorted.

All I say is he better bring back my bike. I dont take stealing from no one, by God.

Listen!

Far up the street the levee seemed to have broken, and the black, warm waters descended and engulfed the town. Between the blazing white banks of the town stores, among the silence of trees and men, a black tide flowed. Like a kind of summer molasses, it poured turgidly forth upon the cinnamon-colored dusty road. It surged slowly, slowly, and it was men, women, horses and barking dogs, and it was little boys and girls. From the mouths of the people drifting in this tide came the sound of a river, a summer-day river going somewhere, murmuring and irrevocable. In that slow steady channel of darkness that cut across the white glare of day, were touches of alert white, the eyes, the ivory eyes staring ahead, glancing aside, as the river, the long and endless river, took itself from old channels into new ones. From various and uncountable tributaries, in creeks and brooks of color and motion, the parts of this river had joined, become one mother current, and flowed on. Brimming the swell were things carried by the riverGrandfather clocks chiming, kitchen clocks ticking, caged hens screaming, and babies wailing. Swimming among the thickened eddies were mules and cats, and sudden excursions of burst mattress springs floating by with hair stuffing sticking out of them. There were boxes and crates and pictures of dark Grandfathers in oak framesthe river flowed on while the men sat like nervous hounds on the hardware porch, their hands empty and it was too late for them to mend the levee.

Samuel Teece wouldnt believe it. Why, hell, whered they get the transportation, how they goin to get to Mars?

Rockets, said Grandpa Quartermain.

Of all the damn foolrockets aint ready for that yet.

Yes they are.

Be another ten years before rockets can go even to the Moon

These are ready.

I never heard about it.

Seems these niggers kept it secret, worked on the rockets all themselves, dont know where, in Africa I reckon.

Could they do that? demanded Samuel Teece, pacing about the porch. Aint there a law?

It aint as if theyre declarin war, said Grandpa quietly.

Where do they get off, god damn it, working in secret, plottin? shouted Teece.

Schedule is for all this towns niggers to gather out by Loon Lake. Rockets be there at one oclock, pick em up, take em to Mars.

Telephone the governor, call out the militia, cried Teece. They shoulda given notice!

Here comes your woman, Sam.

The men turned again.

As they watched, down the hot road in the windless light, first one white woman and then another arrived, all of them with stunned faces. Some of them were crying, some were stern. All came to find their husbands. They pushed through barroom swinging doors, vanishing. They entered cool, quiet grocery stores. They went in drug stores and garages. One of them, Mrs. Clara Teece, came to stand in the dust by the hardware porch, blinking up at her stiff and angry husband as the black river flowed behind her.

Its Lucinda, Pa, you got to come home!

Im not comin home for no damn darkie!

Shes leaving, whatll I do without her?

Fetch for yourself, maybe. I wont get down on my knees to stop her.

But shes like a family member!

Dont shout! I wont have you blubberin in public this way about no god damn

His wifes small sob stopped him. She dabbed at her eyes. I kept telling her, Lucinda, I said, you stay on and I raise your pay, and you get two nights off a week, if you want, but she just looked set! I never seen her so set, and I said, Dont you love me, Lucinda, and she said yes, but she had to go because thats the way it was is all. She cleaned the house, dusted it, put luncheon on the table, and then she went to the parlor door, and stood there with two bundles, one by each foot, and shook my hand and said, Goodbye Mrs. Teece. Then she went out the door. There was her luncheon on the table, and all of us too upset to even eat it.

Teece almost struck her. God damn it, Mrs. Teece, you get the hell home. Standin there, makin a sight of yourself!

But, Pa

He strode away into the hot dimness of the store, but came back out a few seconds later with a silver pistol in his hand.

His wife was gone.

The river flowed black between the buildings, with a rustle and a creak and a constant whispering shuffle. It was a very quiet thing, with a great certainty to it; no laughter, no wildness, just a steady, decided, and ceaseless flow.

Teece sat on the edge of his hard wood chair. If one of em so much as laughs, by Christ, Ill kill em. The men waited.

The river passed quietly in the dreamful noon.

Looks like you goin to have to hoe your own turnips, Sam, Grandpa chuckled.

Im not bad at shootin white folks neither. Teece didnt look at Grandpa. Grandpa turned his head away and shut up his mouth.

Hold on there! Samuel Teece leaped off the porch. He reached up and seized the reins of a horse ridden by a tall negro man. You, Belter, come down off there!

Yes, sir. Belter slid down.

Teece looked him over. Now, just what you think youre doin?

Well, Mr. Teece

I reckon you think youre goin, just like that songwhats the words? Way up in the middle of the air; aint that it?

Yes, sir. The negro waited on him.

You recollect you owe me fifty dollars, Belter?

Yes, sir.

You tryin to sneak out? By God, Ill horsewhip you!

All the excitement, and it slipped my mind, sir.

It slipped his mind. Teece gave a vicious wink at his men on the hardware porch. God damn, Belter, you know what youre goin to do?

No, sir.

Youre stayin here to work out that fifty bucks, or my name aint Samuel W. Teece. He turned again to smile confidently at the men in the shade.

Belter looked at the river going along the street, that dark river flowing and flowing between the shops, the dark river on wheels and horses and in dusty shoes, the dark river from which he had been snatched on his journey. He began to shiver. Let me go, Mister Teece. Ill send your money from up there, I promise!

Listen, Belter. Teece grasped the mans suspenders like two harp-strings, playing them now and again contemptuously, snorted at the sky, and pointed one bony finger straight at God. Belter, you know anything about whats up there?

What they tells me.

What they tells him! Christ! Hear that? What they tells him! He swung the mans weight by his suspenders, idly, flicking a finger in the black face. Belter, you fly up and up like a July Fourth rocket and Bang! There you are, cinders, spread all over space. Them crackpot scientists, they dont know nothin, theyll kill you all off!

I dont care.

Glad to hear that, because you know whats up on that planet Mars? Theres monsters with big raw eyes like mushrooms! You seen them pictures on those other world magazines you buy at the drug store, aint you? Well! The monsters jump up and suck marrow from your bones!

I dont care, dont care at all, dont care. Belter watched the parade slide by, leaving him. Sweat lay on his dark brow and he seemed about to collapse.

And its cold up thereno air, you fall down, jerk like a fish, gaspin, dyin, stranglin, stranglin and dyin, you like that?

Lots of things I dont like, sir. Please, sir, let me go. Im late.

Ill let you go when Im ready to let you go. Well just talk here polite until I say you can leave, and you know it damn well. You want to travel, do you? Well, Mister Way Up In The Middle of The Air, you get the hell home and work out that fifty bucks you owe me! Take you two months to do that!

But if I work it out, Ill miss the rocket, sir!

Aint that a shame now? Teece tried to look sad.

I give you my horse, sir.

Horse aint legal tender. You dont move until I get my money. Teece laughed inside. He felt very warm and good.

A small crowd of dark people had gathered to hear all this. Now as Belter stood, head down, trembling, an old man stepped forward.

Mister?

Teece flashed him a quick look. Well?

How much this man owe you, mister?

None of your damn business!

The old man looked at Belter. How much, son?

Fifty dollars.

The old man put out his black hands at the people around him. Theres twenty-five of you. Each give two dollars, quick now, this is no time for argument.

Here, now! cried Teece, stiffening up tall.

The money appeared. The old man fingered it into his hat and gave the hat to Belter. Son, he said, you aint missin no rocket.

Belter smiled into the hat. No sir, I guess I aint!

Teece shouted. You give that money back to them!

Belter bowed respectfully, handing the money over, and when Teece would not touch it he set it down in the dust at Teeces feet. Theres your money, sir, he said. Thank you kindly. Smiling, he gained the saddle of his horse and whipped his horse along, thanking the old man who rode with him now until they were out of sight and hearing.

Son of a bitch, whispered Teece. staring blindly at the sun. Son of a bitch.

Pick up the money, Samuel, said someone from the porch.

It was happening all along the way. Little white boys, barefoot, dashed up with the news. Them that has helps them that hasnt and that way they all get free! Seen a rich man give a poor man two hundred bucks to pay off someun! Seen someun else give someun else ten bucks, five bucks, sixteen, lots of that, all over, everybody!

The white men sat with sour water in their mouths. Their eyes were almost puffed shut, as if they had been struck in their faces by wind and sand and heat.

The rage was in Samuel Teece. He climbed up on the porch and glared at the passing swarms. He waved his gun. After awhile when he had to do something, he began to shout at anyone, any Negro who looked up at him. Bang! Theres another rocket out in space! He shouted so all could hear. Bang! By God! The dark heads didnt flicker or pretend to hear, but their white eyes slid swiftly over and back. Crash! All them rockets fallin! Screamin, dyin! Bang! God All Mighty, Im glad Im right here on old terra firma. As they says in that old joke, the more firma, the less terra! Ha, ha!

Horses clopped along, shuffling up dust. Wagons bumbled on ruined springs.

Bang! His voice was lonely in the heat, trying to terrify the dust and the blazing sun sky. Wham! Niggers all over space! Jerked outa rockets like so many minnows, hit by a meteor, by God! Space fulla meteors. You know that? Sure! Thick as buckshot; powie! Shoot down them tin can rockets like so many ducks, so many clay pipes! Ole sardine cans full of black cod! Bangin like a stringa ladyfingers, bang, bang, bang! Ten thousand dead here, ten thousand there. Floatin in space, around and around earth, ever and ever, cold and way out, Lord! You hear that, you there!

Silence reigned. The river was broad and continuous. It had entered all cotton shacks during the hour, flooded all the valuables out, and it was now carrying the clocks, washboards, the silk bolts and curtain rods on down to some distant black sea.

High tide passedIt was two oclockLow tide came. Soon the river was dried up, the town silent, and the dust settled in a film on the stores, the seated men, and the tall hot trees. Silence.

The men on the porch listened.

Hearing nothing, they extended their thoughts and their imaginations far out into the surrounding meadows. In the early morning the land had been filled with its usual concoctions of sound. Here and there, with stubborn persistence to custom, there had been voices singing, honey laughter under the mimosa branches, pickaninnies rushing in laughter to the creek, movements in the fields, jokes and shouts of amusement from the shingle shacks covered with fresh green vines.

Now it was as if a great wind had washed the land clean of sounds. Skeleton doors hung open on leather hinges. Rubber tire swings hung in the silent air, uninhabited. The washing rocks at the river were empty, and the watermelon patches, if any, were left alone to heat their hidden liquors in the sun. Spiders started building new webs in abandoned huts, dust started to sift in from unpatched roofs in golden specules. Here and there, a fire forgotten in the last rush, lingered and in a sudden access of strength, fed upon the dry bones of some littered shack. The sound of a gentle feeding burn went up through the silenced air.

The men sat on the hardware porch, not blinking or swallowing.

I cant figure why they left now, with things lookin up. I mean, every day they got more rights. What they want, anyway? Heres the poll tax gone, and more and more states anti-lynching bills passin, and all kinds of equal rights, what more they want? They make almost as good money as a white man, but there they go.

Far down the empty street a bicycle came.

Ill be god damned, Teece, here comes your Silly now.

The bicycle pulled up before the porch, a seventeen year old colored boy on it, all arms and feet and long legs, and round watermelon head. He looked up at Samuel Teece and smiled.

So you got a guilty conscience and came back, said Teece.

No, sir, I just brought the bicycle.

Whats wrong, couldnt get it on the rocket?

That wasnt it, sir.

Dont tell me what it was! Get off, youre not goin to steal my property! He gave the boy a push and the bicycle fell. Get inside and start cleaning the brass.

Beg pardon? The boys eyes widened.

You heard what I said. Theres guns need unpacking there, and a crate of nails just come from Natchez

Mr. Teece.

And a box of hammers need fixin

Mr. Teece, sir?

You still standin there! Teece glared.

Mister Teece, you dont mind, I take the day off, he said, apologetically.

And tomorrow and day after tomorrow and the day after the day after that, said Teece.

Im afraid so, sir.

You should be afraid, boy. Come here. He marched the boy across the porch and drew a paper out of a desk. Remember this?

Sir?

Its your workin paper, you signed it, theres your x right there, aint it? Answer me!

I didnt sign that, Mister Teece. The boy trembled. Any one can make an x.

Listen to this, Silly. Contract: I will work for Mr. Samuel Teece two years, starting July 15, 1962, and if intending to leave will give four weeks notice and continue working until my position is filled. There. Teece slapped the paper, his eyes glittering. You cause trouble, well take it to court.

I cant do that, wailed the boy, tears starting to roll down his face. If I dont go today, I dont go.

I know just how you feel, Silly, yes, sir, I sympathize with you, boy. But well treat you good and give you good food, boy, now you just get inside and start working and forget all about that nonsense, eh, Silly? Sure. Teece grinned and patted the boys shoulder.

The boy turned and looked at the old men sitting on the porch. He could hardly see now for his tears. Maybe, maybe one of these gentlemen here The men looked up in the hot, uneasy shadows, looking first at the boy and then at Teece.

You meanin to say you think a white man should take your place, boy? asked Teece, coldly.

Grandpa Quartermain took his red hands off his knees. He looked out at the horizon thoughtfully and said, Teece, what about me?

What?

Ill take Sillys job.

The porch was silent.

Teece balanced himself in the air. Grandpa, he said, warningly.

Let the boy go. Ill clean the brass.

Would you, would you, really? Silly ran over to Grandpa, laughing, tears on his cheeks, unbelieving.

Sure.

Grandpa, said Teece. Keep your damn trap outa this!

Give the kid a break, Teece.

Teece walked over and seized the boys arm. Hes mine. Im lockin him in the back room until tonight.

Dont, Mr. Teece!

The boy began to sob now. His crying filled the air of the porch. His eyes were tight. Far down the street, an old tin Ford was choking along with a last load of colored people in it. Here comes my family, Mr. Teece, oh, please, please, oh God, please!

Teece, said one of the other men on the porch, getting up, let him go.

Another man rose also. That goes for me, too.

And me, said another. Whats the use? The men all talked now. Cut it out, Teece.

Let him go.

Teece felt for his gun in his pocket. He saw the mens faces, took his hand away, and left the gun in his pocket and said, So thats how it is?

Thats how it is, someone said.

Teece let the boy go. All right. Get out! He jerked his hand back in the store. But I hope you dont think youre gonna leave any trash behind to clutter my store.

No, sir!

You clean everything outa your shed in back; burn it.

Silly shook his head. Ill take it with.

They wont let you put it on that damn rocket.

Ill take it with, insisted the boy, softly.

He rushed back through the hardware store. There were sounds of sweeping and cleaning out and a moment later he appeared, his hands full of tops and marbles and old dusty kites and junk collected through the years. Just then the old tin Ford drove up and Silly climbed in and the door slammed. Teece stood on the porch with a bitter smile on his face. What you goin to do up there?

Startin new, said Silly. Gonna have my own hardware.

God damn it, you been learnin my trade so you could run off and use it!

No, sir, I never thought one day thisd happen, sir, but it did. I cant help if I learned, Mister Teece.

I suppose you got names for your rockets?

They looked at their one clock on the dashboard of the car. Yes, sir.

Like Elijah and the Chariot, The Big Wheel and The Little Wheel, Faith, Hope and Charity, eh?

We got names for the ships, Mister Teece.

God the Son and the Holy Ghost, I wouldnt wonder? Say, boy, you got one named the First Baptist Church?

We got to leave now, Mister Teece.

Teece laughed. You got one named Swing Low, and another named Sweet Chariot?

The car started up. Goodbye, Mister Teece.

You got one named Roll Dem Bones?

Goodbye, Mister!

And another called Over Jordan! Ha! Well, tote that rocket, boy, lift that rocket, boy, go on, get blown up, see if I care!

The car churned off into the dust. The boy rose up and cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted one last time at Teece. Mister Teece, Mister Teece, what you goin to do nights from now on, what you goin to do nights, Mister Teece?

Silence. The car faded down the road. It was gone.

What in hell did he mean? mused Teece. What am I goin to do nights?

He watched the dust settle and it suddenly came to him.

He remembered nights when men drove to his house, their knees sticking up sharp and their shotguns sticking up sharper, like a car full of cranes, under the night trees of summer, their eyes mean. Honking the horn and him slamming his door, a gun in his hand, laughing to himself, his heart racing like a ten year old, driving off down the summer night road, a ring of hemp rope coiled on the car floor, fresh shell boxes making every mans coat look bunchy. How many nights over the years, how many nights of the wind rushing in the car, flopping their hair over their eyes, roaring, as they picked a tree, a good strong tree, and rapped on a shanty door!

So thats what the son of a bitch meant? Teece leaped out into the sunlight. Come back, you bastard! What am I goin to do nights, why that lousy, insolent son of a

It was a good question. He sickened and was empty. Yes. What will we do nights? he thought. Now theyre gone, what? He was absolutely empty and numb.

He pulled the pistol from his pocket, checked its shells.

What you goin to do, Sam? someone asked.

Kill that son of a bitch!

Grandpa said, Dont get yourself heated.

But Samuel Teece was gone around behind the store. A moment later he drove out the drive in his open-top car. Anyone comin with me?

Id like a drive, said Grandpa, and got up.

Anyone else?

Nobody replied.

Grandpa got in and slammed the door. Samuel Teece gutted the car out in a great whorl of dust. They didnt speak as they rushed down the road under the bright sky. The heat from the dry meadows was shimmering.

They stopped at a cross-roads. Which wayd they go, Grandpa?

Grandpa squinted. Straight on ahead, I figure.

They went on. Under the summer trees, their car made a lonely sound. The road was empty and as they drove along they began to notice something. Teece slowed the car and bent out, his yellow eyes fierce.

God damn it, Grandpa, you see what them bastards did?

What? asked Grandpa, and looked.

Where they had been carefully set down and left, in neat bundles every few feet along the empty country road, were old roller skates, a bandana full of knick-knacks, some old shoes, a cart-wheel, stacks of pants and coats and ancient hats, bits of Oriental crystal that had once tinkled in the wind, tin cans of pink geraniums, dishes of waxed fruit, cartons of Confederate money, wash tubs, scrubboards, washlines, soap, somebodys tricycle, someone elses hedge-shears, a toy wagon, a jack-in-the-box, a stained-glass window from the Negro Baptist Church, a whole set of brake rims, inner tubes, mattresses, couches, rocking chairs, jars of cold cream, hand mirrors. None of it flung down, no, but deposited gently and with feeling, with decorum, upon the dusty edges of the road, as if a whole city had walked here with hands full, at which time a great bronze trumpet had sounded, the articles had been relinquished to the quiet dust, and one and all, the inhabitants of the earth had fled straight up into the blue heavens.

Wouldnt burn them, they said, cried Teece angrily. No, wouldnt burn them like I said, but had to take them along and leave them where they could see them for the last time, on the road, all together and whole. Them niggers think theyre smart.

He veered the car wildly, mile after mile, down the road, tumbling, smashing, breaking, scattering bundles of paper, jewel boxes, mirrors, chairs. There, by damn, and there!

The front tire gave a whistling cry. The car spilled crazily off the road into a ditch, flinging Teece against the glass.

Son of a bitch. He dusted himself off and stood out of the car, almost crying with rage.

He looked at the silent empty road. Well never catch them now, never, never. As far as he could see there was nothing but bundles and stacks and more bundles neatly placed like little abandoned shrines in the late day, in the warm blowing wind.

Teece and Grandpa came walking tiredly back to the hardware store an hour later. The men were still sitting there, listening, and watching the sky. Just as Teece sat down and eased his tight shoes off, someone cried, Look!

Ill be damned if I win, said Teece.

But the others looked, and they saw the golden bobbins rising in the sky, far away. Leaving flame behind, they vanished.

In the cotton fields, the wind blew idly among the snowclusters. In still further meadows the watermelons lay, unfingerprinted, striped as tortoise cats lying in the sun.

The men on the porch sat down, looked at each other, looked at the yellow rope piled neat on the store shelves, glanced at the gun shells glinting shiny brass in their cartons, saw the silver pistols and long black metal shotguns hung high and quiet in the shadows. Somebody put a straw in his mouth. Someone else drew a figure in the dust.

Finally, Samuel Teece held his empty shoe up in triumph, turned it over, stared at it and said, Did you notice? Right up to the very last, by God, he said Mister!

The End.

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Notes and proofing history

Scanned by anonymous with preliminary proofing by A\NN/A

March 9th, 2008v1.0

from the original source: Other Worlds, July 1950

This story is part of Bradburys classic collection, The Martian Chronicles

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