The John Russell Fearn Science Fiction Megapack

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The John Russell Fearn Science Fiction Megapack Page 53

by John Russell Fearn


  This was getting too much! My rising fear began to spill over when one after another of our party was seized and similarly treated. Any moment now it would be the turn of Eva, and then me! But not if I could help it!

  I ran my eyes quickly along the wall surrounding us. We had only a sixth of Earth’s gravity to defeat. If we could get away in one flying leap we might— Then what? No spaceship. Yes, there was one—the one on the pedestal! If only we could get to it, we could perhaps…

  I confided my notions to Eva in whispers as she watched the slowly dwindling line of victims. Finally she nodded and waited for my signal. I gave it when the penultimate one to her was taken and bundled over to a stretcher.

  “Now!” I shouted, and then ran and leapt with all my power.

  The surprise of my move helped. I never put such strength into a leap before. Up I went, sailing high over the heads of the astonished bird-sur­geons until I landed on the broad top of the wall. Not a second behind me came Eva. She would have overshot the mark, being lighter than I, had I not clutched her. With hardly a moment’s pause we leapt downwards to the street outside, then proceeded in gargantuan jumps towards that dis­tant obelisk with the space machine atop it.

  But we’d reckoned without the demoniac speed of those lunar birds! Inside a minute they were sweeping after us with projectile velocity. We leapt round the back of a build­ing for protection and I snatched out my raygun, determined if we must be captured to give a good account of myself first.

  So, covering Eva as best I could, I stood there blazing away as rapidly as I could press the button. One of the creatures I did damage, for I shot it through one vulnerable spot—the eye. It crashed to the street, twisting and squirming, but this did not deter the others. Again and again my ray glanced off their armor-plated bodies, until at last my gun was empty of charges and I had to throw it away.

  In any case, the game was up now. Struggling savagely, we were seized in those mighty jaws, lifted into the air and borne back swiftly to the operating theater. Again it came to me with passing wonder that the creatures didn’t kill us there and then. Had they chosen to close their jaws, they could easily have cut us in half. But they didn’t. Instead, they finally deposited us on the two remaining stretchers, held us down by main strength while the straps were buckled into place.

  I gave up struggling because I had to. I simply lay breathing hard, my head turned sideways to watch Eva. She was looking terrified, and no wonder. The rest of our party was motionless now, as dead-faced and immobile as the members of the Walters Expedition beside whom they lay.

  Finally I glared up at the bird-faced surgeon studying the ticker-tape machine beside me.

  “Look here, you, what’s the mean­ing of all this?” I demanded. “What’s the explanation? We’re entitled to that, aren’t we?”

  Not a vestige of expression showed on his weird face. I doubted if he even heard me—and certainly there were no attempts at thought-transfer­ence. He simply went on calmly with his task, which consisted of fixing a sort of cradle so that my head was forced forward slightly. It was in no wise uncomfortable, but I was des­perately afraid just the same.

  Then I felt something stab my neck. Almost immediately my body seemed to float away from me and I lost consciousness of my surround­ings…

  * * * *

  I do not know how long I was senseless, but to my surprise I found myself in a quite Earthly-look­ing bed. The implacable bird-like scientist who had gone to work on me was there too, and in the next bed was Commander Walters him­self, the man next to whom I had been lying when I had lost consciousness.

  He was sitting up, even smiling slightly. I looked beyond him down an immense ward. Everybody was conscious again, talking to each other, tended by Selenites. Far away, I could see Eva, apparently none the worse.

  I turned my eyes back to Walters’ bronzed, amused face.

  “What the devil’s the idea of all this?” I exploded. Then before he could answer me I went on hurriedly: “Look, we’ve got to think out a way of getting back to Earth. Some hell­ish sort of experiment is going on! These blood-sucking vultures—”

  “Nothing of the sort, man!” Wal­ters contradicted me abruptly. “They’re gallant scientists, all of them! The pterodactyl type are probably the bravest warriors of the race. They took an awful chance going to Earth as they did. Their methods must have looked like de­liberate attack, I suppose—but that was not true. How many Earthlings died?” he asked me.

  “Dozens, I imagine. But it was an attack—!”

  “No,” he insisted. “It was neces­sity! Those who died must have suc­cumbed to shock, nothing more. The flying Selenites, fitted by Nature for space flight, are natural chemical agents. Their task was to find people whose blood quota exactly matched that of we thirty men here, of the Expedition.”

  I stared at him blankly. “You mean,” I whispered, “that when they were making their vampirish attacks, plugging people in the neck, they were actually making blood tests?”

  “Exactly. Didn’t you see for your­self how marvelously their internal organs are constructed? They are liv­ing laboratories, and able to carry anything in a special pouch.”

  I remembered this part, and it was just commencing to dawn on me why none of us had been really hurt.

  “So,” Walters resumed, “when they had checked their results, they knew the exact thirty people they wanted, and the instinct of a bird—a power we do not possess since it is sixth sense—led them straight to the thirty they wanted when they de­cided to carry them back to the moon.”

  “But what in hell for?” I cried.

  “To save our lives,” he answered solemnly. “All thirty of us got to the Moon here, but we were badly smashed up in the doing, and we lost a good deal of blood. The Selenites—being differently constructed than we are—couldn’t supply the necessary life-fluid—so they did the only thing possible and dispatched agents to Earth to find blood-donors.

  “Believe me, it has been worth it!” he finished. “The Moon, as you’ve seen for yourself, is not dead, and its race is very friendly towards us. We can give them much: they can give us much. The invasion of Earth was a. necessary evil, but out of it will come untold benefit. You should feel proud, you and your friends, that you were chosen. You’ve become a bridge between worlds, and have laid the foundations of an interplanetary union.”

  I nodded slowly, gradually realiz­ing the enormity of the thing that had been done. I caught Eva’s eyes in the distance and knew that she realized the truth too.

  Then I look up as I saw a claw-like hand extended towards me. Something like a smile was on the face of the Selenite surgeon.

  WEDDING OF THE FORCES

  The strange power that flowed through the brain of Ralph Davis was not of earthly origin, and he soon finds his own personality submerged under the influence of an alien enemy with dire plans for the enslavement of a world!

  BRIMSTONE POOL

  Fortunately, Tarp Gregory was at home. I had never wanted to see anybody so badly in all my life. I had braved a wild night of wind and storm to reach my friend’s New York apart­ment…

  As Chalmers showed me into the cozy study, Tarp Gregory looked up from the armchair in surprise, rose immediately and came forward with extended hand.

  I had shaken hands with him before I remembered I should not have done it. Tarp jerked his hand away sharply and eyed me doubtfully with his coldly analyti­cal blue eyes. It was obvious that he thought I had one of those buzzer things in my palm. But I hadn’t and I showed him as much.

  “Hell!” he exclaimed in surprise, ele­vating sandy eyebrows. Then he frowned, “What’s started Ralph Davis playing tricks, anyway?”

  He thrust forward a chair, automati­cally handed over cigarettes. I lit one with a hand that shook violently.

  “What’s on your mind?” Tarp demanded sharply. “Nerves?”

  He eyed his own right hand reminiscently, then his frown deepened as he looked back to me. I guess
I looked in a sorry mess, my hair tousled, my eyes wild.

  “Tarp,” I said slowly, breathing hard, “I think I’m going mad.”

  “Rubbish,” Tarp retorted. “A perfectly solid electrical engineer of thirty-five has no need to go batty. Not on your salary.”

  “I’m not joking!” I snapped. “Some­thing’s gone wrong with me—something no doctor seems able to explain. You’re a scientist with nothing to do but spend your money on experiments. I thought that with your knowledge, you might be able to help me.”

  “Sure, if I can. But what’s wrong?”

  I hesitated a moment, then got to my feet. I saw Tarp’s look of surprise as I unscrewed the single-point electric light bulb from its socket and plunged the room into darkness.

  “What’s this? A seance?” asked Tarp’s dry voice.

  “No. This!” I announced, trying to keep my tone steady, and a moment later I became visible to him again holding the bulb aloft—and it was lighted! Yes! Every time I pressed my fingers on the lead contact, the lamp sprang into full radiance.

  Gregory scratched his untidy head. “Nice going!” was his approving comment. “What else do ycu know besides the Statue of Liberty trick?”

  “Dammit, man, it isn’t a trick!” I nearly screamed. “The bulb’s lighted by my merely touching it! Look here, too—!” I put the bulb back in place, then snatching the plug of the electric heater from its socket, I jammed the brass pins between my teeth. Immediately the cooling bars of the heater glowed red hot again!

  “There!” I shouted hoarsely, replacing the plug. “That’s what is the matter with me! I’ve become a living dry battery—and I’m gathering power every day! Believe me, Tarp, it’s no joke!”

  He had lost his flippancy now. He stared at me incredulously, then he said slowly, “So that’s what happened when I shook hands with you? I got an electric shock! Say, this is something!” He pulled up a chair and straddled it, leaned his arms on the back. “How’d you get this way?” he demanded. “When did it happen?”

  I sat down again heavily, shook my head.

  “I don’t exactly remember. Near as I can recall, it started some little time after I came back from my summer vacation with Eva. Began with cramp, then it passed off. Then later, when I was cleaning an electric torch of some two volts or so, I found I could light the thing! From then on things get fantastic! And now I’ve been sacked because my presence interferes with delicate electrical instruments… Gosh, Tarp, I’m in a hell of a mess!”

  “But there must be a reason!” he insisted. “You couldn’t go off like this without a cause!”

  I hardly heard him. “Seems to be affecting me mentally, too,” I went on dreamily. “Normally, as you know, I’m pretty sociable and even-tempered; now I find myself getting less and less consider­ate towards others. Odd ambitions are in my mind—things I hardly dare think about. Dreams of power…. All so weird,” I finished, pondering.

  Tarp reflected for a moment or two, then he got to his feet and headed for a con­necting door. “Come into the lab a mo­ment,” he invited… I followed him into the cool, brightly lit expanse.

  In passive silence, I submitted to the tests he made with various complicated instruments. At the end of it all, he rubbed his head and whistled.

  “It’s got me!” he confessed blankly. “You’re generating about seventy to a hundred volts of electricity. Every part of you is alive with it, but because the build-­up has been slow, you have adapted your­self to it gradually. That’s quite possible, of course. But how you got that way has me licked! Normally, a living body gives off a small percentage of electricity, sometimes enough to stop a watch. But as for lighting a lamp and starting up a heater— Hell, man, it’s downright uncanny!”

  Uncanny! He was telling me! I got into my jacket in silence.

  “You’re sure nothing unusual has ever happened to you?” he persisted anxiously. “I mean, have you ever come across any­thing strange, picked up anything queer, eaten something out of the ordinary, been stung by something, or—”

  “Good Lord!” I interrupted him sud­denly. Now I came to think of it, I had been stung. I wheeled around to him. “Now you mention it, something bit me during the holidays—” I broke off, smiled faintly. “Not worth mentioning,” I sighed. “Only a baby cuttle fish, or starfish, or some­thing…”

  “Be more explicit!” he snapped.

  I did my best. I told him about the vacation. Eva and I had spent a day at Brimstone Pool, a little bathing place a few miles from Atlantic City. One of the days, while swimming, I had been stung in the arm, but I had thought nothing of it. Anyhow, the lump had soon gone down…

  “Did you see a starfish or anything?” Tarp demanded, as I became silent.

  That surprised me. “Matter of fact, no,” I confessed. “But then, I didn’t look very hard.”

  “Hmmm…” He compressed his thin lips. “I don’t like it, Ralph,” he went on, “especially as your change dates approxi­mately from then. I’m not well acquainted with Brimstone Pool, so the best thing we can do is go there the first thing to­morrow. Tonight you’ll stay with me. I’d like to get your general reactions.”

  I looked at him gratefully. There was something always masterfully cool about Tarp Gregory.

  “Thanks, pal,” I murmured. “I knew you’d help me.”

  * * * *

  At breakfast the next morning, Tarp told me that I had slept heavily and talked a lot, mainly about strangely in­tricate devices which ranged far beyond even his extensive knowledge. Certainly I had no recollection of such vaporings, and told him as much. He said nothing to that, but I guess he thought plenty.

  By ten o’clock we were on our way. Sometime after dinner, we reached the deserted spot whereon, in summertime, pleasure seekers sought the sun and waves. Without speaking, I led the way down a rocky declivity to a narrow inlet left by the ebbed tide, finally indicated a deep, smooth pool banked around by curious, porous looking rocks.

  “That’s Brimstone Pool itself,” I ex­plained, glancing up to find Tarp’s lean face within two inches of my own. “I dived in from here, swam right across, and back again, Eva followed a moment or two afterwards…”

  “Uh-huh, Tarp said pensively, then he stooped and stared into the Pool. It was perfectly clear, but it plainly had nothing in it beyond a few baby crabs and shrimps. Finally he wetted his lips with it.

  “Normal sea water all right,” he sighed; then as he stared around on the rocks fringing the Pool, he began to frown. “Say,” he breathed, “these rocks aren’t normal. They’re—meteoric!” he finished, kicking one of them. “Large amounts of iron and pumice in them.”

  I looked at him in surprise. “But I thought you knew that, Tarp! Don’t you remember the meteor of 1942 which fell near Atlantic City? It landed here and broke up—wasn’t very big. All around this Pool is where it dropped. These very rocks are the exploded parts of it—ac­cording to Doctor Grantham, anyway, Eva’s father. Hence the name Brimstone Pool.”

  “Idiot that I am!” Tarp snorted. “I knew the damned name had a familiar ring. Now I remember… A meteor, eh?” he went on keenly. “And suppose something crawled out of this rockery into the Pool and happened to sting you? Suppose that something came from out of space, as it very likely might? Now do you see some­thing forming?”

  I certainly did, and the speculation wasn’t pleasant.

  “You mean that perhaps an interstellar visitor bit me?” I asked him anxiously.

  “It’s possible,” he said bluntly. “You say Dr. Grantham told you all about this meteor? Where does he fit in, besides being Eva’s father?”

  I shrugged. “He’s a private geologist, writes all sorts of treatises on the subject. He was down here with us during the vaca­tion and took some of this stuff home with him for his collection. He collects meteorite chunks, buried coins, old skulls, and all that. Goes abroad a lot too. Plenty of cash…”

  “I get it,” Tarp nodded. “And he’s not the only one to tak
e some of this stuff home…” Stooping, he picked up a loose piece and thrust it into his pocket. “Maybe worth analysis,” he said briefly, then turned and led the way back up the slope.

  THE STRANGE OBSESSION

  Tarp Gregory’s analysis revealed nothing beyond the fact that the meteoric chunk was iron ore. Where it had come from in outer space it was im­possible to say. But he still clung to his original idea that the meteorite might have contained some strange form of life which, by sheer chance, had gotten into the Pool and bitten me.

  The theory did not comfort me, I can tell you! It was all too possible for my liking. Besides, I was feeling stranger every day, though I said nothing to my friend. He was, I knew, doing all he could—but even he had his limitation. I had the feeling that all my natural, personal control was slipping.

  One evening while Tarp was uptown on business, I came to a decision. I sat down and wrote a brief letter to him. In the interests of this history of my strange experience, I record it in full as best my memory serves me—

  My Dear Tarp,

  “Out of justice to you, I am leaving. In these past days my condition has grown steadily worse. I realize that I shall soon be a danger to have around. Any unexpected contact with me may, in time, produce fatal consequences.

  “I am obliged to go away alone where nobody can find me, where I am away from living beings, there to work out my destiny as best I can until I am either released from this strange elec­trical bondage, or else die.

  “Believe me, I do thank you for all you have done—but even you cannot save me.

  “Always your sincere friend,

  “Ralph Davis.”

  I left the letter with Chalmers, packed my few belongings, and left. I was quite convinced in my own mind that I had taken the right course. I did not stop long at my own apartment in New York, either. I paid the rent up to date, then set off for the quieter regions beyond the city. At length, in the darkness of the winter eve­ning, I walked up the drive of Dr. Grantham’s great, isolated residence.

 

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