A Large Anthology of Science Fiction

by Jerry

  He shrugged his shoulders strangely and then relapsed into silence. Finally, as I rose to retire, irritated by his strange demeanor, he laid a hand on my knee.

  “Wait,” he said: “I’ll tell you about it.”

  I sat down and listened to him as in his rambling way he told me of the strange event that had broken into the life of this peaceful retreat. He spoke like a man who tried to reconcile continually his senses with something unheard of. His story, as I remember it, is as follows:

  It was an evening like this one, years ago, and some of the villagers were seated on the verandah. Little had been said by any of them for almost half an hour until Dick James, watching a meteor blaze a shining path across the evening sky, remarked casually: “Another soul gone to glory.”

  “Huh?” grunted Walter Adams. He was a college student on vacation.

  “Somebody’s soul gone to glory—didn’t you see that shootin’ star?”

  “Applesauce! Such superstitious rot! You know darn well that meteors are fragments of disintegrated planets.”

  “Nope. Never went to college to study about stars and peek at them through spyglasses. Don’t know a blame thing about ‘meteors’. Old colored folks down on our place used to say that when you saw a shootin’ star it was a sign that somebody had died. I never—Good Glory! look at that one!”

  Everyone jumped to their feet, as a huge burning ball flashed across the firmament, leaving its trail plainly marked by the glowing train heated to incandescence from the friction of its passage, and plunged out of sight behind a neighboring hill.

  “That one hit the earth and it hit near here!” exclaimed Walter: “Let’s go over to look for it tomorrow!”

  “Suits me,” grunted James, who was not greatly interested in meteorites.

  Strange Happenings

  NEXT day Ruberg was agog with talk about the “shootin’ star.” It seemed that fully half the people had seen it, and the other half were rapidly coming to believe that they had. Many dire predictions were made concerning it. Floods, pestilence, earthquakes and war were promised. Old Miss Hodgers suddenly remembered that she had witnessed one “jest perzactly like it” just before the United States entered the World War. It developed that similar astral visitors had heralded the beginning of the Great War, the Johnstown Flood, the Spanish-American War, and the “Flu” epidemic. In fact every event of major or minor importance which any of the older inhabitants could remember was promptly connected with a “shootin’ star” seen just previous to the actual event.

  Reports of the meteorite filtered into Ruberg all day, from surrounding farms; until the area in which it could have hit was narrowed down to the section around Loon Marsh.

  Loon Marsh is a dismal piece of swamp land that lies between two hills about five miles to the north of Ruberg. Seemingly fed by underground springs, it has neither inlet nor outlet; but, even during periods of great drought, the Marsh never loses its water appreciably. The Marsh is about three miles long and about a mile wide at its widest point; it contains several open stretches of fairly deep water, where one may find reasonably good fishing. Cattails and marsh grass, water-lilies and bullfrogs, sun perch and catfish abound, also an occasional muskrat, wild duck and loon. Of course there are snakes galore.

  At the southern end of the Marsh is a cluster of dilapidated cabins which bear the very descriptive appellation of “Shantytown!”

  At the time the events recorded here took place, Shantytown was inhabited by half a dozen very ignorant and shiftless Negro families whose absolute worthlessness made them unpopular with the citizens of Ruberg, including the few members of their own race who lived there.

  To Shantytown went Walter and James, only to curse the denseness of its inhabitants who were either too ignorant or too suspicious of strangers to give them any information. Once or twice they caught the odor of fermenting grain; and suspected that the lack of information obtainable from these members of a usually talkative race was to the fact that Shantytown suspected them of being prohibition agents.

  Their popularity with the inhabitants of Shantytown was not enhanced when they began roaming through the wooded hills around the marsh, looking for a possible burnt spot where the flaming visitor from space had ignited the underbrush. They had searched only a couple of days when a number of odd facts came to their attention.

  The first of these was that there were no longer any insects in the vicinity of Loon Marsh; though it had long been considered a pest-hole of mosquitoes. Then they learned that the frogs, which were plentiful in the Marsh, no longer croaked at night. This latter was noticed by several of Ruberg’s thirsty citizens who had, under cover of darkness, slipped out to Shantytown in search of illicit liquid refreshments. The third day after the falling of the meteorite, Walter and James were astonished at the number of bleached white skeletons of birds, rabbits, squirrels and other little wood-dwellers that they found everywhere along the hillside. On the fourth night, the entire dog population of Shantytown transferred itself to Ruberg. But it is the fifth and sixth nights that have long been remembered by Ruberg.

  Ruberg proper had gone to bed. Walter, James and several other “nighthawks,” feeling it too warm to sleep, were loafing on the verandah of the Ruberg House, smoking, talking and listening to the radio, when pandemonium broke loose outside.

  The entire population of Shantytown appeared to have moved en masse to Ruberg. Most of them were only partly clad; while several of the younger ones seemed to have dispensed entirely with clothing. Soon they had awakened all Ruberg.

  The good citizens, trying with little apparent success to quiet the hysterical frenzy of the Shantytowners, could only elicit the information that they had been scared out of their homes by a “ghos’ ”.

  Finally the Shantytowners began to regain control of their emotions and their leader, Joe Bones—if he ever had any other name it had long since been forgotten—was calmed down to the point where he could talk almost coherently. From him they learned that queer things had been happening in and around Loon Marsh. The Shantytown negroes had first sensed something wrong when the frogs, birds and insects became silent. Then two of their group, poling their flat-bottomed boat into the marsh so that they might fish for “cats” in the open spaces near the center, found an increasing number of dead fish, and dozens of skeletons of frogs, birds, snakes and other small creatures. No sound broke the ominous quiet of the marsh, but the rustling of the marsh grass and the noise caused by the progress of the boat. The portentous silence, pregnant with evil, that had suddenly come over Loon Marsh worked upon the easily aroused superstitions of the Shantytowners and they soon discovered a mutual lack of interest in “cats” and an overwhelming desire to be out of the marsh.

  Panic In Shantytown

  THAT night the dogs had howled mournfully from dusk until dawn, effectually keeping their masters awake and nervous. The next night the howling started again as soon as it began to grow dark. Long before midnight the howling died to whimpers of fear and the dogs sneaked away over the hills. By the following night the whole population of Shantytown had become fervently religious. One of the older men who had once been a local preacher of sorts exhorted them loud and long, threatening them with hell-fire and brimstone and various other horrible punishments if they did not mend their low and sinful ways—seemingly overlooking the fact that he was himself one of the community’s worst offenders.

  When the service was over they had rather reluctantly dispersed to their cabins and were preparing for bed when a loud shriek brought them tumbling out into the open. The self-appointed minister had lingered quite a while before leaving the cabin where they had held the meeting, and it was he who gave the alarm. High over Loon Marsh hung a softly glowing mist that constantly moved and changed its form. Slowly, as though borne by a light breeze, this luminous cloud was moving toward Shantytown. The Shantytowners took one look and suddenly developed a desire to be in Ruberg. Since none of them seemed to have imitated Lot’s wife by looking bac
k, they could tell no more about the strange phenomenon.

  A count of noses developed that all Shantytown had arrived safely but two, Uncle Mose Smith and his wife Aunt Chloe. These two—the patriarchs of Shantytown—were very old; just how old no one, not even themselves, knew. Evidently they had not been able to stand the pace set by their terror-stricken fellows and had fallen behind; though one waggish citizen remarked that they might have been “goin’ so fast that they run clear past the town.”

  Ruberg as a whole was rather amused at the Shantytowners, since it believed them the victims of their own too vivid imaginations. A half dozen of the young bloods of the town piled into a couple of flivvers and started out to meet Uncle Mose and Aunt Chloe. It was only a short while after their departure that the sound of two of Mr. Ford’s brain children, traveling at a high rate of speed, reached the ears of the crowd gathered on Ruberg’s main street; and it was followed almost immediately by the two flivvers that had started for Shantytown.

  No longer did they think the wild tale told by the still scared group of negroes a figment of the imagination. They had reached the top of the hill overlooking Shantytown and Loon Marsh and, beneath them, they had seen the writhing phosphorescent mist, gathered, as near as they could tell in the absence of light, directly over Shantytown. This luminous cloud was connected by a thin bright streamer to a large shining globe in the center of the marsh. They had promptly returned to Ruberg without further investigation. They had not seen the two old colored people—in fact they had entirely forgot Uncle Mose and Aunt Chloe until they were reminded that they had started out to search for them.

  Ruberg anxiously awaited the coming of the dawn and, when the sun’s rays slipped over the mountains, a dozen carloads of curious citizens bounced along the rough road that led to Loon Marsh. On top of the hill overlooking the marsh the motor cavalcade came to a halt. The usual morning fog hid the marsh and the cluster of cabins at its end. When the sun’s rays reached down into the little valley the fog eddied and swirled as it slowly rose from the surface. Soon Loon Marsh lay quiet and sparkling in the morning light. Then the cars slowly rolled down the uneven road that led through ill-tended “patches” where corn, potatoes and other vegetables were fighting a losing battle with the weeds.

  A hundred yards from the cluster of cabins the leading car jerked suddenly to a stop and its occupants jumped out. The passengers from the other cars rushed forward to see what was the matter.

  In the middle of the road lay two skeletons around whose bones hung parts of garments that were identified as having covered the aged forms of Uncle Mose and Aunt Chloe.

  The people of Ruberg became suddenly awake to the deadly menace of this thing that was in Loon Marsh. A few hardy souls, including Walter and James, ventured on to the cluster of cabins; where they found the bleached skeletons of two mules, a cow and a number of chickens.

  Ruberg did little that day but discuss this unheard-of thing that had happened right at their doorstep. An appeal for help was ’phoned to the state capitol by the sheriff; but when he began giving the details to the busy official at the other end of the line, that individual interrupted him, delivered a short but caustic lecture on “damned fools who have nothing to do but worry busy people with fairy tales,” and hung up.

  It was Walter who first suggested that the meteorite might have something to do with the mystery; and this theory swiftly gained adherents.

  Evening found a dozen cars, now filled with armed men, on the hill overlooking the marsh and a half-dozen pairs of field glasses continuously swept its broad expanse.

  The Ghost of Loon Marsh

  JUST as it grew dusk one of the watchers sighted a bright sphere, which appeared to be about thirty feet in diameter, just as it emerged from the depths of the marsh and floated lightly upon the surface of the water in one of the open spaces. To those with glasses it looked like a huge ball of highly polished metal. As it grew darker, the ball glowed with a ghostly phosphorescent light and from somewhere about it a thin shaft of luminous vapor emerged. Swiftly this mist thickened and spread, dividing into thin streamers that writhed about over the surface of the marsh; but which always remained connected to the phosphorescent globe by the thin rope of vapor that continually emerged from it. Occasionally, a bright gleam would appear in some part of the mist and a gleaming thread would pour back toward the glowing sphere. Sometimes these flashes were quite brief but occasionally one would last for several minutes. It was all so studied that it gave the watchers the eerie feeling that it was connected with some intelligent being. One portion of the mist seemed to be bearing toward Shantytown at a great speed. By this time it was quite dark and the marsh itself was no longer visible; but the tenuous streamers glowed brighter and brighter. The streamer of mist reached Shantytown, hesitated there a few minutes as it wavered back and forth, and then passed on seemingly feeling its way along the hillside.

  Almost directly across the marsh where the men from Ruberg were gathered, the streamer pushed its way up toward the top of the hill, where a field cut into the woods. Suddenly the tip of the streamer glowed brightly and a pulsing silvery stream poured back through the streamer to the shimmering ball. Larger and larger grew this silvery stream, and then the others streamers flowed back on themselves and thence out along the glittering stream toward the gleaming tip. As the other streamers united with it, the one on the hillside expanded to a brightly-glowing cloud.

  Then one of the watchers exclaimed: “My God! the damn thing is feeding. It is in Brown’s wood pasture and he’s had five fine steers in there for a week. There’ll be five skeletons there tomorrow morning. Brown’s house is only about half a mile across that hill and I hope to God that it finds enough to eat without crossing the hilltop.”

  The whiplike report of a rifle echoed through the valley as one of the men took a shot at the globe in the marsh. The globe jumped violently and the gleaming streamer connecting the globe to the luminous cloud was broken.

  The gleaming cloud and the streamer—both gone suddenly dull—drew together and merged into a shapeless mass that hung motionless halfway between the hilltop and the marsh. From the sphere a tiny glowing shaft rose straight into the air for a short distance. This shaft branched into five thin tentacles that waved back and forth as they grew longer and longer. The group on the hillside watched silently while the tentacles extended themselves until, in their waving search, they had covered the entire surface of the marsh. Then they slowly moved up the hillsides, keeping the same distance above the ground as though through an understanding. Several times the men from Ruberg made ready to flee as one of the waving tentacles approached them. Finally, one of the arms touched the mass of glowing mist and a portion of the mist flowed swiftly back along it to the glowing ball. The other tentacles then drew back into the sphere, and the glowing cloud moved back up the hill until it reached its former position, where it again gleamed brightly; and once again the pulsing silvery stream flowed back along the misty path that led to the luminous sphere.

  The group of men held a brief council. Five of them, hunters all and crack shots owning high-powered rifles piled into a flivver and drove back a little ways toward Ruberg. Then they turned aside into an old road that ran along the top of the hill parallel to the marsh.

  As the flivver rocked and bounced along the rough road they could catch an occasional glimpse of the glowing mist high on the hillside across the marsh.

  The flivver stopped opposite the portion of the marsh that contained the refulgent sphere and the five made their way through the darkness and underbrush to a spot where they could see the glowing ball. One of the five, who had been an army sergeant, automatically took command. Finding a place that was to their liking, they knelt and the ex-sergeant spoke softly:

  “Ready!” The men stiffened in their places. “Aim!” Guns were trained carefully.

  “Fire!”

  The roar of the five rifles drowned out the command. Under the impact of the steel-jacketed bullets, th
e sphere bounced fifteen or twenty yards along the surface of the marsh, and the shining thread that connected it with the cloudlike luminosity against the hill was again severed.

  Gone!

  A LOW distant drone came to their ears and the ex-sergeant glanced at the glowing figures on the dial of his wrist watch. Three o’clock! The hum of the high-flying night mailplane died away in the distance. Three o’clock—soon it would be dawn. They had not realized that time was passing so swiftly.

  Again the thin gleaming column rose steadily for a short distance into the air above the sphere and branched out into the five waving tentacles which began their fantastic searching of the air above the marsh.

  When the tentacles had extended themselves almost over the whole marsh, the rifles roared out again, and the phosphorescent globe was again sent bouncing’ along the surface of the marsh. The gleaming column with its waving tentacles was separated from the sphere and drew itself into a small gleaming ball that hung stationary over the spot where the sphere had been.

  This time the sphere remained quiescent for many minutes as though it were considering the unusual turn its affairs had taken.

  Suddenly lambent flames of cold white light flickered over the sphere’s surface and the globe seemed to begin to revolve. Faster and faster it whirled, and brighter and brighter grew the tiny white flames. Then, from the top of the whirling sphere, there emerged a thick, coruscating pillar of malignant, angry-looking red vapor at whose top was a brilliant purple cube. From the purple cube four spinning arms of the same angry-colored vapor and tipped with a shining purple disk, shot down the marsh toward Shantytown. Then a similar arm flashed in the opposite direction. Slowly these arms began to move as though to revolve about the central column. Once again the rifles barked and the impact of the bullets hurled the sphere sideways. The coruscating pillar of red vapor snapped, and gathered itself and its arms into a sinister, spinning ball of Satanic light in whose center the purple cube gleamed balefully. The two purple discs revolved swiftly about the red globe’s equator.