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"High-pressure fire hose, one at the head of each escalator, and a couple more that can be dragged over from other outlets. Say we put two men on each hose, lying down at the head of the escalators. And we got plenty of firearms; we can arm some of these clerks, up here " "All right; do that.
The floor above was a duplicate of the room they had entered, and seemed to contain about as many books. Rather than waste time forcing the door here, they returned to the middle basement and came up by the escalator down which they had originally descended.
When they stepped from the escalator, the hall was crowded with office people, gabbling excitedly in groups; they all stopped talking as soon as they saw what was coming. In the division chief's outer office three or four girls jumped to their feet; one of them jumped into the bulk of Marshal Fane, which had interposed itself between her and the communication screen.
He saw the rift in the moving sidewalk coming, far ahead, a great, gaping rent in the metal fabric of the swiftly moving escalator, as if a huge blade were slicing it down the middle. Harry's hand went to his mouth, choking back a scream as the hole moved with incredible rapidity down the center of the strip, swallowing up whole rows of the seats, moving straight toward his own.
It was packed with humanity, struggling for the lift platforms, to take them to the upper stories, out of reach of the awful rays. Hilary was thankful for that. His destination was beneath, in the sub-levels. A moving escalator led downward. It was deserted. A fierce, wild screaming arose outside, screams that gurgled and died horribly. Hilary felt sick inside.
"But there must be more to life than trying to stop the other guy from stripping the shirt off your back while you succeed in stripping off his!" With that he took the escalator to the upper hall while Philon watched him disappear. Left alone now, Philon settled into a chair by a window and stared down the street at the MacDonald house.
The white-clad figures he had seen swarming up the helical escalator were not wearing the Ku Klux robes of the Independent-Conservative storm troops, as he had first feared they were in Literate smocks, and among them were the black leather jackets and futuristic helmets of their guards.
Passing through it to the other end, Prestonby unlocked a door, and they went down a short hall, to where ten or fifteen boys and girls had just gotten off a helical escalator and were queued up at a door at the other end. There were two Literate guards in black leather, and a student-monitor, with his white belt and rubber truncheon, outside the door. Prestonby swore under his breath.
And even an escalator in a department store might be excused for tripping up a troubadour. Oh, I know I'm one; and so are you. You remember the stories you memorize and the card tricks you study and that little piece on the piano how does it go? ti-tum-te-tum-ti-tum those little Arabian Ten Minute Entertainments that you furnish when you go up to call on your rich Aunt Jane.
Most of them got away, the casualties being carried up by the escalator. Doug Yetsko bounded forward and brought his fire hose down on the back of one invader's neck. Then, after a last spatter of upward-aimed shots from the defenders, there was silence.
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