“I say, that would be a tremendous undertaking! All of Earth’s greatest minds would be bent towards the construction of huge war towers. Perhaps we could build them in the image of Man: giant two-legged automatons, with two humanoid arms and a head upon the top in the approximation of human form. Massive furnaces could be housed in his mighty torso. The boilers of his heart would give life to his many pulleys and spindles. Gyroscopic attenuators would maintain his balance and provide the stability needed to combat our hated foes. His clockwork animations would so emulate our own that he would be a gigantic stylized vision of ourselves. We would slake our thirst for vengeance with his vicarious violence. Our colossal, mechanical doppelganger would fight the spidery legged walking pie plates and fling them into the stratosphere. He would snatch the flying stack of tea-saucer abominations from out of the air and hurtle them to the unforgiving ground of our vengeful planet, hear, hear!”
“Dang, I wish we could, Ma’am, but our metal man would fall to the Martians’ awful ray, much like our other means of combat. Their incessant racket makes me itchy in other ways. They are busy with new constructs, while I sit idly by and wait. That ain’t to my nature, Ma’am.”
“Nor I, Mr. Temperance, alas, though, our friends and the few troopers still present are the only signs of life for miles around, perhaps many miles. There has been a mass evacuation of the area. That radius of emptiness extends in a growing circle from the Martians. Like a spreading stain of spilled wine upon a white table cloth, a growing patch of lifelessness expands around the creatures.”
“I betcha a nickel that all wildlife has similarly vanished. Most wild animals are more intelligent than people give them credit for being. As I recall it was animals that were the first to flee the invaders.”
“Children, keep your hands to yourselves!”
“Hunh! Oh, hey, Miss Clarabelle.”
“Ha, ha! Scared ya, didn’t I, Icky? I was just kidding, I know you are too bashful to get very far.”
“Hey!”
“Anyway, I’m here because the sentries are making a ruckus, and it looks like something might be up.”
“Thank you, Clarabelle. As it was, I actually had him loosened up enough to hold my hand, without chaperon.”
“Sorry, Persephone. I’ll try to give you kids more privacy, should the opportunity ever arise.”
“You girls behave, and let’s hurry back to see what we can see. There’s one of the sentries, now.”
“Hey, Ichabod, look over yonder across the river. You can see the two fliers are up in the air.”
“Thanks, trooper. Yeah, but they ain’t moving too fast, are they?”
“No, they sort of circle around their walker team mates, but they aren’t in too big of a hurry, either.”
“Indeed, trooper, the pace is much slower than before. Quite so, for we easily stay abreast of our quarry on our side of the river.”
As we follow our targets Northward, the Potomac River tapers off smaller and smaller until we finally cross and risk closing in a little with our slow paced pursuit.
“I say, I am most curious as to what this last member of the caravan may be, eh hem?”
“I am naughtte without a fair share of interest, milady. Dost thou suggest having a look?”
“Well, they are moving slow enough, and on a steady course so that we could probably run ahead and find a hidey spot to get a look at them as they come through. It might be dangerous though.”
“Don’t worry, Icky, you stay here and we’ll tell you about it when we get back.”
“Hey, Miss Clarabelle, I meant you Ladies did not have to attend!”
“Ha, ha, let’s all go get our peepers on the mechanized convoy, Ick-Ick!”
---
“Watch out! Stay out of sight! Here come the flying Martian war machines.”
“The manner in which they fly indicates a high state of readiness, and hyper-alertness.”
“They appear to be searching very thoroughly for any hidden traps that Mankind might have prepared for them.”
“I don’t know, y’all; as I watch, a different hypothesis comes to mind. I think they are looking for something.”
“You mean they are looking for something to eat.”
“No, I mean they are looking for someone to eat.”
“If I may direct your attention, two walkers are entering the clearing before our area of observation. These are the purple ray/sonic cannon war machines. I believe their tactic is for the rays to destroy any weaponry humanity may have, making it so much more palatable for them to use theirs, eh hem?”
“Now come the other two walkers, Ma’am, the ones with the big, green, energy blasters. A single blast from one of those terrible things would blow the mightiest warship out of the water.”
“Oh, there’s something moving behind the two walking blaster platforms. It must be this new construct of the Martians.”
“It’s something low to the ground. That’s why we haven’t been able to get a good look at it.”
“The walkers at least have the decency to step over something now and again, but this thing is apparently destroying anything and everything in its path.”
“I can tell the forest is being mowed down by a huge contraption. “
“Golly, trees are being uprooted from the ground and flung into the air before this terrible construct.”
“Now let us see this instigation of plant negation by Martian deforestation legation.”
Pushing one last giant oak tree down before it, our latest arrival makes its débutante presentation.
“Aiee! What cursed, metallic nightmare accosts my vision? A large steel ball, with the top lopped partially off, is how the first segment might be described. This segment is populated by several animated Martians. I think they are the pilots for this monster, for like a three segmented centipede, the monstrosity heaves itself over the oak and drags its heavy carcass forward by means of his many crabby legs.”
“Uhg, all those crabby legs scrabbling along. There’s too many of them! All three segments have dozens of legs.”
“If I may make an observation, y’all? This fellow ain’t as sleek as his brothers. This mechanical has more of a ‘thrown together’ look to it.”
“Yuck, that thing is creepy.”
“Quite so, there is something unsettling in the movements of this mechanical arachnid.”
“It’s too bloated.”
“It’s too insect-like.”
“It is, perhaps, a cross between an enormous spider, and a maggoty worm. The scores of pointy, steel legs are barely able to support the disgusting contraption. The first of the three segments is large, but each successive body part is exponentially expounded in girth than the previous.”
“I say, the gaggle of pilots, for there are several, crowding the open air, lead segment, appear to compete with, and contradict, each other for command of the dreadpillar. The two following carriages one may safely assume, are under the control of the first. The tangled efforts of a hundred metal spiked legs scrabble in its perpetual effort towards forward mobility. Yes, quite so, for the shambles is a rambling wreck in progress as the animated junk pile crushes any obstacle before it.”
“The monstrosity kind of struggles along in spurts of movement. I reckon its many limbs are very difficult to coordinate. I don’t believe that the Martians are always working in conjunction. Looks like they’re fighting with one another over who is actually driving the beast.”
“Ooooo, the large body segments that follow the leading head are like the carapace of a black widow spider, though not quite as smooth. The skin of the third, and most bloated body segment is lined with overlapping seams. These scales of steel run her length on both of the giant many legged spider-pillars’ swollen thorax and abdomen.”
“Ooooo, the second segment, however, bristles with some sort of mechanical growths. They have an appearance similar to that of a cargo crane’s extension arm. These protrude from steel parapets. The cranes
have many more segments than one would ordinarily associate with a cargo moving device, and end with dreadful mechanical claws that have a gruesome aspect to them.”
“Yeah, and those long, clawed, mechanical arms are busy searching out trees to fling from before the crawling menace.”
“I say, let us cautiously shadow this beast, while maintaining a course parallel with the mechanical parade, eh hem?”
“Looks like the actions of our prey begin to alter, slightly.”
“Yeah, the craft of flight no longer circle above the caravan. Instead, they have moved ahead, working independently. Now they are sweeping back and forth in a more determined search.”
“The four walkers, which before had been in a close pack, have now also moved ahead and into a wide formation. They too, continually pick at the ground. Whenever a house, barn, or other building is found, it is thoroughly ransacked by the destructive tentacles. The legs of the giant Martian mechanicals easily topple the most stalwart structure. Ripping away the materials until the cellars are revealed, the monsters are determined to have their feast.”
“Let’s make sure we adjust our pursuit accordingly.”
“The paths of the walkers and the flying machines are erratic. I think they are following where they hope to find a hiding morsel.”
“Any idea of where they’re headed, Icky?”
“The crawling horror maintains a slow, but steady path Northwards, Miss Clarabelle, Ma’am. Baltimore, Boston and New York, our nation’s greatest cities, lie in that direction. This is one of the densest concentrations of human life on Earth.”
“Oh my, the potential catastrophe is unthinkable! There is nothing between these flesh-eating monsters and the rich stores of our juicy populace!”
“So far, Valuria, humanity has been able to flee before these devils, but I am afraid that the time is swiftly approaching that our proverbial luck is going to run out.”
“Blast that incessant ‘wup-wup’ of their infernal flying craft! The jangling, rattling, crash of the crawling edifice, unnerving with its disturbing bulk of yet unknown purpose, the smash and crush of the terrible walkers, and the screech of their mechanical limbs, piercing the air is anathema to my sensibilities.”
“Sometimes I see one or the other of the two walking towers equipped with the smelting weapon, send out its lavender beam of metal destruction. I can’t see the beam in the bright light of the Sun, just a faint distortion in the air. I betcha the sweeping rays are used as a means of defense. They mean to destroy any hidden weaponry that humanity might have arrayed against them, but I think they are wasting their time and energy. It does not appear as if we are making any more of a defense than us following behind.”
“Hey look, one of the walking creations to our right is suddenly very energetic. It is frantic with a flurry of activity!”
The flying machines and other walkers are hurrying to its assistance. Tentacles are tearing trees right up out of the ground and throwing them willie-nillie!”
“I say, one of the walkers rises up in triumph.”
“Indeed, a steel tentacle victoriously holds his prize aloft.”
“Oh no! Miss Plumtartt! Those monsters have caught a cow!”
“Oh, my, she cries and moos so pitifully.”
“The hungry Martian proudly parades her back to the crawling contraption.”
“The pilots of the horrific bug are ecstatic about the find.”
“Oh, Miss Plumtartt, that poor cow is so scared! It’s breaking my heart to hear her frightened pleas and to see her helpless struggles.”
“So too, we all, Mr. Temperance.”
“The crawling mechanical has stopped and spun about, presenting its swollen, if we are to follow in the insect analogy, then let’s call it, the ‘abdomen’, of the obese spider to the happy walker.”
The over-lapping steel plates of the bug peel back, one by one, in a coldly chilling clang after clang of metal parts.
Despite her sad protestations, ‘Bessie’ is lowered into the hollow abyss.
A Martian cheer is heard to arise from within.
One by one, the steel sleeves clang their miserable way back shut, mercifully canceling the horrible noises from inside.
The Martian murder machines walk away.
We are too saddened to follow the terrible fiends.
Slowly, one by one, we all succumb to a soft sobbing.
Somehow, despite all the suffering we have been witness to, that poor cow, too old to get herself away from the approaching monsters, has broken our collective heart.
Eventually, without a word, we slowly pick ourselves up and in desultory fashion, continue our sad pursuit.
Chapter Thirteen · A Seamstress’ Dream
The Cincinnati Kidder
CITIZENS FLEE BEFORE TITANIC TYRANTS!
By Mona Jolly.
With state, local and Federal agencies having failed a helpless public, citizens have prudently fled before the unstoppable Martian threat. Municipalities receiving this influx of refugees report a fantastic profit in the hotel and restaurant serving industry. With lemons come lemonade as these capitalizing capitalists make bank.
The Spicy Bolognaian
THE BATTLE OF PARIS CONTINUES!
By Dominique Tendency.
I relentlessly track down mein source. He cannot escape mein gloved clutches. In an isolated laboratory, I have him trapped. My pointed heels click inexorably towards mein man-prey. I am like zee black panther in my swaying, und slinky capture. I grab zee thick hair of my desire. Yanking his head violently back, I demand to know the disposition of our European situation! The press of my leather clad form cannot be resisted by mortal man!
Tell my audience, Marcus Gilman!
“I vill! I vill! Zat hurts you know! It is the theory of meinself und Professors Von Zott und Tesla that these craft communicate by means of radioactive transmissions. Professor Tesla has many brilliant theories in this regard. Ow! I am talking! Take it eazy! Anyvays, vee have built frequency broadcasting towers based upon bold and exciting electrical theorems. Zeez frequencies travel as the radiating ripples on zee pond. Zey spread from the source of origination one after another, in outwardly expanding waves. These broadcasting towers can project their energies over incredible distances. It vaz our hope zat vee could interrupt their transmissions, or squeeze them into immobility. Our conjecture was to even disable their war machines. Sadly, the emanations seem to confuse and cause either the operator or the craft itself discomfort, but have fallen short of completely debilitating the machines. Please to release me mein uber-Fraulien, I must get back to zee vork.”
The Townsville Tempest.
ADELAIDE DEFLECTS MARTIAN SIEGE!
By ‘The Karumba Kutie’ Miss Fluffy Muffington.
Krikey! Did I ever have to claw my way through a bevy of tramp newspaper hussies to get this up close and personal interview with hunky Secret Agent James Murray, but it was worth the frightful feminine infested boarding pass to cruise this dreamboat. So, Lover, how goes the fight?
“Krikey! Well me girl, you’ll hafta give this amorous digger two shakes to rejuveniotal me trouser oysters. In the meantime, I’ll tell ya about the Martian battle. We have built walls, dug ditches, run trip wires, blown smoke in their faces, gave inaccurate directions, teased horribly, and anything else we could do to dissuade the beasts from their course. Nothing doing, me lassie lass. The dingaroos wombats skulleried the hoobbus out of our vain attempts. They have been inexorably drawn toward their stranded mate on Kangaroo Island. Side by side, the bunyip outta the West and the banana bender from the East, these monsters steadily make their way across the Flinders outback until reaching us in the cold and gloomy South. Adelaide stood in their path. An outpouring of public efforts gave us a line of ditches, that discouraged our two walking monsters. All the metals in the city had been secured in safe places as we have been warned of the metal destroying qualities these devils’ weapons possess. Adelaide has grown in recent years and the
amount of shipping and rail traffic make for a lot of steel in the area. We have found that great amounts of sand can weaken the Martians’ metal destroying beams to a certain degree. We have tried to protect these steel assets to the best of our abilities with this method. Great bonfires with special ingredients to make them extra smoky also helped to keep the war machines from treading our city’s fair soil. The brutes bypassed Adelaide and continued out the Newland Head Peninsula. The two mainland Martians and their Island-bound comrade have taken to calling to one another across the ‘Backstair Passage’. One could forget what fiends these creatures are and sympathize in their forlorn despair, separated from their marooned mate, standing in the cold bleak grey weather, calling out to each other. I suspect, though that when these three footed land sharks get hungry, they’ll be coming back to Adelaide for a human cut-lunch.”
---
“I say, though our quarry does not travel in the evening, they do, I see, make merry.”
“Yes, Ma’am, they sure are a festive crew, Miss Plumtartt. Me and some of the troopers snook up and had a peek at their carrying on last night. They look to have more and more Martians every day. These things multiply faster than skeeters after a summer rain.”
“Festive, how, Ichabod?”
“They whoop and holler and stomp around their green light campfire, Miss Valuria.”
“Well, at least it is not difficult to follow our opponents’ trail. The paths of destruction caused by the giants is unmistakable. The backwash of crushed trees and farms is like the wake of a messy and mean-spirited land-bound barge. The walkers and fliers just run around tearing things apart hither/thither with their testy tentacles, while that despicable crawler squooshes everything before its path. It really is a deplorable situation!”
“Calm yourself, Miss Nightingale, and let us hope we conclude the day without the fiends finding any more of Earth’s treasures. We must be vigilant, lest melancholy take its sorrowful and spirit sapping hold again.”
---
“Hey, Icky, did you and the soldier boys get a look at those Martians? Are they up to their same strange behaviours again?”
For the Love of Temperance (The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance Book 3) Page 16
