In the Deadlands (34 page)

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Authors: David Gerrold

BOOK: In the Deadlands
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Come...

run

run

                                                            
Come...

run

run

                                                
Come...

run

run

run

run

run
                                          
It calls with ten thousand thou-

                                                
sand voices.

run

                                                            
Too many voices

run
                                                      
that I know too well.

run

run

                                                                            
C o m e. . .

run

                                                            
C o m e. . .

run

run
                                                      
It is not a call

run
                                                      
It is not a beckoning.

run
                                                      
It is not even a warning.

run

run
                                      
The deadlands is not calling me

                                                            
to come to it...

run

run
                                      
No.

                                             
It is saying it will come to me.

run

run

                                            
Run.

run

                                            
Run for your life,

run
                                      
for your soul.

run

run

run

run

run

run
                                      
But run.

run

run

run

run

run
                                      
Something

run

run
                                      
lives in the deadlands.

run

run
                                      
Something

run

run
                                      
big.

run

run

run

run
                                      
Some day

run

run
                                      
it's going to get tired

run

run
                                      
of all the

run

run
                                      
little sacrifices

run

run
                                      
that we keep

run

run
                                      
making

run

run
                                      
to it.

run

run

run

run

run

run

run

run

run

run

run

run
                                      
Some day

run

run
                                      
that
something

run

run
                                      
is going

run

run
                                      
to

run

run
                                      
come out of the deadlands.

run

run

run

run

run

run

run

run

run
                                      
Some day

run

run
                                      
something

run

run
                                      
is coming out of the deadlands.

run

run

run

run

run

run

run

run

run

run

run

run

run
                                      
Something is coming out of the

run
                                      
deadlands.

run

run

run

run

run

run
                                      
Run

run

run

run

run

run

run
                                      
Run

run

run

run

run

run

run

run

run

run

run

run

run

run

run

run

run

run

AFTERWORD:

Harlan Ellison had challenged the community of science fiction authors to come up with stories that broke the boundaries, stories that other editors would publish. The result was a literary earthquake, the
Dangerous Visions
anthology. With that one book, Ellison up-ended the entire field. He inspired every writer within wordshot to reach for higher goals. It was the seed crystal, the catalyst, the moment that science fiction stopped seeing itself as pulp fiction and became a true literary genre.

A year later Harlan Ellison began reading stories for
Again, Dangerous Visions.

I submitted “In the Deadlands.”

In my eyes, it was something that could not be published anywhere else.

He rejected it and bought “With a Finger in My I” instead.

I didn't mind the rejection. I did mind that in his introduction to “With a Finger in My I,” he spent several paragraphs savagely describing the story he hadn't bought and why.

The story took on a certain notoriety as it made its way across the desks of various editors. I believed in it. They didn't. They all rejected it—a couple of them vehemently.

So I put it back in the drawer. It was an experiment. It broke the rules. It didn't fit anywhere. I didn't care. Most stories are written from the head—this one had been written from the heart and from the gut and from a place that still hasn't been named.

Eventually, I was living in New York for a while and I put together a collection of stories for Ballantine Books, some published, most not. I don't remember the title I wanted to give it, but Betty Ballantine renamed it
With a Finger in My I.
(This book includes all the stories from that collection, plus everything else I wrote around that same time.)

I showed Betty Ballantine “In the Deadlands” and asked her if we should include it. She was adamant that it was the most important piece in the book. She also said, “I won't make any money off your collection, but I'm buying it to keep you loyal, so I'll have your next bestseller.” (I gave her two bestsellers and a Hugo and Nebula nominee.)

As we moved toward production Betty Ballantine said we had a design problem. The standard design of a paperback book was to put the author's name at the top of every even page and the title of the book at the top of every odd page—but this would confuse the layout for “In the Deadlands.” In my youthful naiveté, I suggested that we leave those out and only have the page numbers. It would add to the desolate feeling of the story. She agreed and that was how the story was printed.

With a Finger in My I
was published in early 1972 and the following year “In the Deadlands” was nominated for the Best Novelette Nebula award. I didn't expect it to win, and it didn't, but I do admit to a small satisfying lump of validation.

A few years after that, Harlan Ellison grudgingly admitted that he probably should have bought “In the Deadlands” for
A,DV
instead of “With a Finger in My I.” That was another
good moment. (For the record, I love Harlan like a brother. Someday soon, I will tell the tale of how he saved my life.)

For a time, I had an idea that there might be more to the deadlands story—that I might follow the unnamed narrator in his flight back toward life. I even started writing what I thought might be the next part. But it wasn't coming from the same place, and when I got to the point where I had to look and see what might be coming out of the deadlands, I saw how much that story wouldn't work. It didn't build on the mood of the original. It diminished it. I threw the pages away.

Horror only terrifies when it's unknown.

When you stop and look it in the face, it's no longer unknown. Then it's only a thing to understand…

And something else as well.

When I left the deadlands, I left my bleak period behind.

Far behind.

—David Gerrold

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