Collected Tales (Jerry eBooks)

by Leslie F Stone

  The Founding of A Nation

  “GEE,” broke in Wormley, “this is a story and a half. Doctor Morris told it to me, but I’m sort of condensing it.”

  “Go on, you’re doing fine.”

  “Well, to make the best of the long tale . . . the Spaniards continued as friends. They were for the most part pushing into the interior of the country searching for gold and they did not see much of the Mentorites, but by that time children were being born with appendages that were true wings.

  Birds there were in plenty so that the Mentors had all the serums and solutions and glands they needed. The Indians were the first to discover that children with wings were appearing among the white settlers and there began a time of persecution for the children of Mentor.

  “The next two centuries of their existence appears to have been made up of flight, fleeing from haven to haven until at last they founded this settlement here on the edge of Peru with only a few savage tribes as neighbors, savages who look upon the alate as gods of some sort and have no intercourse with the white men.

  “Wings have come to them to stay, and they have prospered out here in the wilderness. Eventually the need of importing new blood drove them to stealing women. Occasionally, too, it appears that men have been picked up and brought to Mentor for the same purpose. Mentor, I believe, could account for the disappearances of whole scientific expeditions that have never been heard of again. They refuse to breed with any but people of their own race, hence the fact that Latins, Semites et cetera are never captured by them. Many of their women die, too in giving birth to their children, and of late they have found it necessary to bring in as many women as they can find so that the dynasty they have planned can be brought into being . . .”

  Wormley sighed, “And that’s that. Simple, eh what?”

  “It all sounds highly improbable.” I noted. “I think that if I pinch myself I’ll wake up.”

  “Don’t do that,” laughed Wormley, “for here cornea our pretty nurse Miss Lois . . . And if I am not mistaken you are very much taken . . . eh?”

  She came in smiling brightly and inquired as to how we were. She seemed to guess that we had been talking and she shook her finger at us and admonished us for exciting ourselves. She took our pulse and temperature and left us with directions to sleep.

  “Some baby,” commented Wormley when she had gone.

  “It appears to me,” I said, “that I could learn to like Mentor after all!”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Convalescence

  THE next week I spent in bed convalescing though I had very little pain. At first I was given a liquid diet and later more substantial food. Fruits, green vegetables, bread of corn and wheat flour and a few different varieties of wheat and fowl constituted the menu of Mentor. I noted immediately a strange foreign taste that I put down to some new condiment, but Wormley quickly put me straight. The strange flavor he said was due to Ingredient “B” that was fed to every man, woman and child in Mentor. Once a week Ingredient “A” was injected into our blood and twice monthly Ingredient “C” was added to the menu. I can’t say that any of it was very tasty. I learned later that I had already had a gland operation.

  “They’re making full-fledged Mentorites out of us, old man,” Wormley declared.

  The second week I was allowed to sit up in a chair to take short walks in and around the hospital. I discovered just how complete an institution it was. Everything was kept spotlessly clean. Most of the work was devoted to the maternity wards where the young Mentorites were brought into the world scientifically and as easily as possible. One mother out of eight usually died in giving birth to the winged babies. The death rate had been higher before the coming of Doctor Morris and he was doing all he could to reduce it still more.

  There was a dispensary to attend the every-day sicknesses and accidents such as those brought about by deadly insects or by the winged people who sometimes misjudged distances and hurt themselves on limbs of trees, etc.

  Diseases were practically unknown even in this fever-infested land—for every precaution was taken. Healthy people are not prone to become diseased and the alate were healthy without a doubt. Then too, I discovered that every new captive was quarantined miles from the city for the duration of a month before they were allowed to intermingle with the Mentorites, and during that time their blood was purified and thoroughly cleansed of any lurking germ-cells. The reason that Wormley and I were not quarantined, of course, was due to our session in the hospital; and I learned that we had been completely de-germed.

  On the fifth day of my convalescence, I was allowed to climb the flight of steps that led upward and into the jungle. The trees grew high and thick and the sunlight had difficulty in finding its way through the branches. To offset this lack of sun in their underground cities every citizen whose work did not bring him into the sunlight was forced each day to take a sun-bath either in the clearings or else on platforms reared high in the trees—where the beneficial rays of the sun could penetrate. And once daily a strong violet ray was switched on and swept throughout the city.

  A path led away from the entrance to the doorway through which I had come. The door itself was in the trunk of a giant tree that had been hollowed out and the bark placed on the door-panel so ingeniously that it was difficult to detect that it was a doorway from the outside. Nor was the path I trod a distinct one. It might have been one made by animals or the Indians.

  In fact, a stranger might have walked all about the ‘city’ or rather atop it and not know that life seethed beneath his feet. He might have even made his camp on the top of one of the sky-lights of the underground community without being aware that glass and concrete were his bed.

  The jungle had been cleared to some degree so that the winged people might move about more easily, but the clearing had been done in such a natural manner that one passing through the area would not have noticed particularly that it had been cleared. Strangers had in fact actually passed this way or camped hereabouts without being the wiser. No wonder Mentor could not be discovered by plane!

  As I came into the forest I met Miss Lois who was also out for an airing. She joined me and pointed out the points of interest as we strolled along. Never before had I met a girl who was so natural, so simple—without any little coquetries or subterfuges that one usually looks for in the sex. She accepted me merely as a companion and expected me to do the same with her.

  Several Mentorites passed us, men and women with their variegated wings dragging in the dust behind, all clad in the tight fitting costume that gave no resistance to the wind in flying. One fellow passed who had the half formed wings of the “Earthbound” as they called them, the people bred of the two races, winged and unwinged.

  There were many of these people in Mentor destined never to fly but to give birth rather to children that would, one day, fly. They took their place in the ranks as did the others. They were, in fact, the workers, holding responsible positions in the underground stronghold. They were merely a part of this strange evolution.

  Once, overhead, I heard the beating of wings and Miss Lois bade me look up. Doing so I saw perhaps a half a dozen or so winged people flying down toward us through the trees. At first I believed they would surely tear their wings upon the branches of the trees, but in looking more closely I saw that the great branches of the trees had been cut away to allow about twenty feet clearance, giving the dated an entrance and exit to the world. These avenues were cut at regular intervals so that there would be no danger of crowding when danger lurked above.

  Sightseeing

  LATER by carrying me up a distance of about fifty feet Miss Lois showed me other avenues cut horizontally through the trees to give passage to those who did not wish to expose themselves above the trees. They could fly many miles within the protection of the jungles in this manner. There were many of these paths criss-crossing through a great area. Where the trees became thin and gave way to glades and clearings wingless men were usually stationed
to give warning if danger was about.

  We now approached one of the natural clearings where many people, children and adults alike were playing or sunning themselves. Here were groups of woman sitting or lying in the grass talking and working over lengths of cloth, embroidering feathers on jackets, shaping garments. Here, for the first time, I saw a number of fellow “captives.” Upon our entrance into the glade a tall, slender, dark-haired girl jumped to her feet and came running toward me. Almost immediately I recognized her from the picture I had seen in the papers. It was Miss Marion Hally. She stopped short a few feet in front of us.

  “You are a newcomer, aren’t you?” she asked me in a low, throaty voice.

  “Yes, Miss Hally,” I averred.

  “Ah, you know me!”

  “Only by your photos.”

  “Tell me, then,” she said, “have you heard anything about my father? I have been sick with worry about him. How is he taking my disappearance . . . he had only me . . . you see . . .”

  I told her of her father’s offers of rewards for her recovery. Beyond that I knew nothing else. She sighed and without another word returned to the group she had deserted.

  “That,” said Miss Lois, “is the trouble of stealing these poor girls. They could be happy with us, I believe, if only they could get in touch with their people and let them know that they are well . . .”

  “Yes,” I said, “the world is not going to stand for this wholesale abduction of yours very long!” Up came Miss Lois’ chin. “We do not have any fear of that, Jim Kennedy, Mentor knows how to protect herself!”

  “Well, why don’t you come above board and show your hand to the world instead of this miserable woman-stealing?”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “It is not for us to ask, Jim Kennedy. The Patriarch will deal with the world when the Time comes!”

  “Then there will be a Time?”

  She smiled. “Yes, the time is coming when the world will realize that we are a factor to be reckoned with! They will gladly give us our place in the World Court!”

  “Unless they annihilate you entirely!”

  “And that is impossible of course.”

  I said nothing to that, but I felt it highly improbable that this handful of people could stand against the world.

  “May I ask . . . how many people have you here, Miss Lois?”

  She nodded. “Surely. We divide our population into two parts, the winged and the Earthbound. Of the former we have here in Number One a little less than thirty thousand! Of the latter there are about ten thousand! Of children under the ages of sixteen there are forty thousand! Then in each other community there is almost a like number.”

  Jim Learns Much

  TO say I was astounded was putting it too mildly. I turned upon Miss Lois in wonder. “You mean that there are eighty thousand people living here in this area?”

  She nodded. “Certainly.”

  “And this is only one of several like settlements?” I queried.

  “Yes, at present we have six communities, and the Patriarch is directing the construction of a seventh city. He has decided that it would be well for us to have two cities devoted entirely to children. Our quarters here are becoming too crowded.”

  “Hum, then you have a population of almost a half a million people. Good Lord it sounds impossible.”

  She laughed up at me. “We have forgotten to include the ‘captives’. There are about two thousand of them at the present time! And by the end of the year the Patriarch expects us to have about ten thousand!”

  “My God!” I was flabbergasted. “A half a million people here in this jungle.”

  “Mentor now covers about sixty square miles and still continues to grow. Each settlement is about four miles in circumference for we always build from a hub, and each settlement is laid about fifteen miles apart to give room for spreading.”

  “A few well laid bombs could almost demolish it!”

  “And who is going to lay the bombs?”

  “Outside they now have a pretty fair idea of where Mentor lies.”

  Miss Lois shrugged her shoulders. “That really matters very little. You shall see how little one of these days!”

  “You mean that no plane could ever reach here because of that infernal machine of yours?”

  She nodded her head. “I am afraid so.”

  “Oh, well, I guess the future will have to decide that.”

  She did not answer me but now we had turned back to the city. I was thoughtful during the remainder of the walk. Gosh, if only I could get out of this place and tell my story to the world! What a scoop this was going to be. The girl’s words, however, made me realize just how hard it was going to be to escape. If, as she said, the surrounding country was populated so thickly with her people what chance would I, a puny man without wings, to fight my way out into the world again. And with what I now knew it was evident that they were not going to allow me to escape.

  Miss Lois appeared to have read my thoughts. “It is impossible for anyone to escape from Mentor. Our Patriarch is not quite ready for the world to know and it is death to any who makes the attempt.” She went on to explain just how great an organization her nation was, how it had already thrown out its tentacles into the world in general all unbeknown to the Outside.

  I questioned her about the food supply, and her words told me that Pedro Majes had not lied when he spoke of the plantation to which he had been borne by the winged men. Mentor had not only one plantation to raise her food, but many in some of the most fertile countries of the continent.

  It appears that those born entirely devoid of wings were used for the purpose of going out into the world establishing themselves and working only for the good of their race. By taking Spanish names a dozen or so Mentorites owned and controlled the lantations from which the winged men carried off by night the foods that they needed. It was from the estate of one of these men that Marion Hally had been spirited away!

  They owned mines in the same manner, rubber-plantations, and air lines were controlled by the far-reaching arm of the Patriarch of Mentor! The wealth from these enterprises of course flowed in a steady stream into his coffers.

  And to further the interests of the nation were another corps of men and women, the diplomatic corps that found places of responsibility all over the world. They insinuated themselves into positions of trust in Washington, in London, in Paris and in fact in all the capitals of the world and were accepted by their fellow-men as one of them; while in truth their lives were dedicated to the interests of their own race. It was possible therefore for them to accomplish much for its welfare.

  It was through one of these “spies,” that that infernal engine that had brought our plane down was bought and brought to Mentor. It had been invented by a German just after the Great World War and under the Patriarch’s direction had been purchased for this jungle home ere the world was able to learn about it; and all but one blue print destroyed.

  In the same manner Doctor Morris had been brought to Mentor enticed by the tales of one of the Patriarch’s agents who proved to the Doctor the need of the jungles for medical aid. And because he had tired of the humdrum life of New York City he had come to take complete charge of the health of the five hundred thousand souls within the confines of the jungle.

  Every necessity that was needed was brought from the Outside, just as electricity was carried hundreds of miles across the continent by cables and conduits from three or four points in South America. The cables were cleverly laid; either in the trees or underground as the topography of the country demanded.

  Only a continent such as South America with its great unexplored spaces, its great natural resources, its jungles, could have held the secret of Mentor. I could only gasp as I thought of what a prodigous organization had grown out of the aimless fumblings of Howard Mentor with man-made evolution. Could this strange though powerful nation some day put its mark on the world?

  CHAPTER SIX

  The Patriarch />
  ON returning to my room, where I was still bunking with Wormley, I told him of all I had seen and learned.

  “God . . . if only the world knew! Drastic steps need to be taken if the government hopes to do away with this menace,” he averred.

  I shook my head. “No . . . nothing can be done. You can’t wipe out a half a million people easily . . . not unless you dynamite half of South America! No, Wormley, this is a tremendous thing and mark my word the world is going to realize very shortly just what they are up against. And warring with these people would be like warring on mice in a hayrick . . . you either have to smoke ’em out or burn the hay . . . both of which methods would be too difficult in this area.”

  We both fell to thinking and were aroused only by the appearance of Doctor Morris. He had come to remove the bandages from Wormley’s face. Morris, and the Earthbound nurse who had followed him, worked for several moments and then revealed the scarred face of the aviator. Wormley had never been handsome but the added ugliness of his face gave him an attractiveness that later was to prove irresistible to the women of Mentor. Wormley refused the mirror Morris held for him. In fact, thereafter, he never so much as attempted to shave himself as it would force him to view his “mug”.

  After the operation was over and the nurse had left we commenced questioning Doctor Morris. He appeared to enjoy our conversation, wanted to know all about New York.

  “Do you think, Doctor,” I asked after I had led up gradually to the subject, “that you are doing the proper thing in helping these people as you have?”

  He looked at me in surprise at such a notion. “Isn’t it always right to ‘help’, young fellow?” he asked with a quizzical twinkle in his blue eyes.

  “Yes . . . but in doing this you are being unpatriotic in giving yourself to these people who are rightfully the enemy of our own nation!”

  “And what, my boy, is patriotism if it is not to follow the dictates of your own heart? Does a man have to be born to patriotism . . . can’t he adopt it?”