Death Dimension

by Denis Hughes

  Tern growled: “What are you getting at now?”

  “Wait and see! It is curious, but I am only beginning to realise my own potential powers, developing them as I go. First it was my physical strength, a great asset. Then I discovered that very little was hidden from my knowledge if I cared to concentrate sufficiently on a subject. I am able to foresee things and events, as I have already proved to you in the matter of the police arriving at your London lodging. And now…”

  “Now what? I suppose you’ll tell us you don’t need food or air to breathe!”

  The monster gave its short, shrill chuckle.” That, I think, is beyond my powers,” it admitted. “No, this is even more useful—if it is effective. We shall see…” It broke off. Then: “You know, Tern, I find a certain pleasure in your company, a definite sense of amusement in watching your reactions to what I do and say. You’re such a typical being of your race, stupidly courageous when timidity would be safer, timid when a quick stroke of genius might alter your plight. You interest me; I should miss you if anything happened to you. The same does not quite apply to Vivienne somehow. With her I feel some vague affinity that prevents me from killing her unless the need arises. I suppose it is because we are a queer kind of brother-sister combination.”

  Vivienne gave a shuddering sob and buried her face in her hands. The sight of her misery moved Tern to anger. He swung round, glaring at the monster, framing some remark, trying to measure the chances of another mad attempt at overcoming it.

  The monster merely chuckled, then held up its arm. “The aircraft, I think,” it said. “We will wait by the fence.”

  An atmosphere of tension gripped them as they left the car and stood in the drizzle, listening, watching the grey sky for a glimpse of the incoming plane.

  When it appeared Tern recognised a civilian six-seater. It circled the field, then made its landing run almost directly towards the spot at which they stood. As it rolled to a stop Tern held his breath, watching it curiously.

  What new form of devilry had the Blue Peril thought up this time? The aircraft, a twin-engined job, taxied closer to the fence, then stopped again. Tern glanced shrewdly at the monster where it stood on the other side of Vivienne. Brooking had been left insensible in the car. The eyes of the monster were half closed, focused on the aircraft, now stationary less than fifteen yards away. But it still retained its deadly grasp on Vivienne.

  Suddenly the cabin door opened and two men jumped to the ground, leaving the engines ticking over as they walked towards the fence, their faces curiously blank and dull.

  Tern frowned. He knew that the men must have seen the incredible monster standing there, yet there was not even a show of surprise on their faces, let alone fear or horror as it usually instilled in people.

  “It works even better than I expected, Tern,” said the monster. Its voice was low and tense, tinged with almost human excitement.

  “What are you getting at?” he grunted wonderingly.

  “I am controlling these two men from a distance. They left the plane and answered my summons obediently. Now the field is clear for our own purpose.”

  Vivienne glanced at Tern, then back at the monster. “But what about them?” she whispered nervously. The two men, both young, had halted in front of the fence, staring at the little group with scant interest. It was as if they were awaiting the order to move on.

  The Blue Peril considered for an instant. “I could kill them and be sure,” it mused. “Or I could merely send them away, up into the forest, for instance.”

  “Don’t kill them!” begged Vivienne urgently. “Please, don’t kill them! There’s been too much of it! They have not harmed you; they’ve helped you by obeying you. Don’t kill them for your own amusement!”

  The monster smiled a little, its horrible mouth twisting. “You have a kind heart,” it sneered. “But I will humour your weakness. The men shall be spared. But we waste time. Tern, you will act as pilot on this occasion. It will suit me better that way. Can you handle that craft well enough to keep it airborne?”

  “I imagine so, damn you!” He glared at the two dull looking men standing patiently waiting on the other side of the fence. The monster lifted Vivienne up and over the fence with the ease of a giant, lowering her as lightly as a feather on the other side. Then it glanced at Tern.

  “Go and drag Brooking from the car and bring him here,” it ordered curtly. As it spoke it jumped over the fence and stood holding Vivienne’s arm. Tern glared, but moved off obediently to the car. By the time he returned with Brooking the two men were ambling slowly off through the sparse trees, not looking back, not interested in what was going on.

  The Blue Peril had added another trick to its repertoire, that of being able to direct people from a distance and make them do as it wished. He was not sure what the outcome would be, but decided that this latest development represented further danger to the community at large. He hoped the creature would not use its new power on himself or Vivienne.

  They all entered the aircraft, with the monster always at Vivienne’s side, a constant threat to Tern. Brooking was dumped in one of the aft seats; Tern took the controls.

  “Take-off,” he was ordered. “I will give you further directions presently.”

  Tern merely nodded. He saw someone walking slowly up from the direction of the aerodrome buildings in the distance. The man was in no hurry, it appeared. He was probably a little curious as to why the aircraft had stayed where it was instead of taxiing down to the hangars.

  A few minutes later they were in the air. He kept the plane climbing straight into wind, getting the feel of it, settling down. There was plenty of fuel in the tanks and the engines droned perfectly.

  “Where to?” he asked briefly.

  The monster glanced over his shoulder. Then to his surprise it gave him a compass bearing without hesitation.

  “That’ll take us out over the North Sea!” he exclaimed.

  “Exactly, Tern. Carry on, please, no argument. I have formed my plans. This country of yours is too crowded, too full of inquisitive fools who hamper my efforts. We are bound for foreign lands from which I can operate more easily.”

  Inwardly, Tern groaned. This was going to be far more complicated than he had expected. What adventures lay ahead of them he dare not think, but almost certainly they were bound to run into trouble—unless the Blue Peril had means of quelling it and protecting them from enraged foreigners. Would its undoubted powers be up to such a crisis? Tern did not know what to think.

  The plane thrummed on across country. By now its behaviour would probably have been reported, unless it had been expected to take off again at once.

  They saw no other aircraft, but during the afternoon Tern mentioned the fact that before long they would need more fuel.

  “You have enough to reach the landing ground selected,” the monster told him flatly. “We shall refuel there and carry on. You may leave things entirely to me.”

  Tern muttered something beneath his breath. It seemed a far cry to his usual life as a news reporter; he began to get nostalgic ideas about how pleasant London was. This present state of affairs, was like living in a constant nightmare.

  The cold grey of the North Sea slid away below, glimpsed through breaks in the cloud above which they flew. The line of a distant coast appeared, with a cluster of grey buildings to tell of a town or seaport. Tern, keeping to the original compass course, saw that they were making straight towards a small landing ground just inland from the flat coast.

  “Land normally,” he was told. “No one will get out but a petrol bowser will come to us with fuel. I am hoping that my control will be sufficiently strong to make the staff do as they are told and then forget that we ever landed.”

  “At any rate you’re a born optimist!” observed Tern. “For your sake I hope it works!”

  “I hope so too—for Vivienne’s sake, Tern.”

  Tern was silent as he went in to land. Brooking, who had recently recovered his senses
and been tied up by Vivienne on the monster’s orders, started cursing them all in succession. No one took much notice. The undercarriage was down and the plane coming in for a landing. Tern was tensed. Vivienne, her face pale and strained, looked out ahead. The monster kept a hand on her arm, and the automatic was trained on Tern’s back as an added precaution.

  A group of technicians stood around near the control building, watching idly. From the looks of it this was a British-manned ’drome. Almost before the plane rolled to a standstill a petrol bowser motored up alongside. Tern held his breath, but the wooden-faced man merely glanced in his direction and proceeded to pump fuel into the aircraft tanks. The whole operation was carried out in silence, no word being spoken. The cabin door was not even opened. And when it was completed the bowser drove off.

  “Uncanny!” muttered Tern. But he was greatly disturbed by the fresh possibilities opened up by the monster’s remote control of individual human beings. The monster itself seemed to sense his unease, for it chuckled quietly.

  “Before long you will see that I can work a surprising number of changes in your civilised world,” it murmured. “And now take off again without delay. We have many miles to cover before dark.”

  Tern, depressed and resigned to this awful companion’s whim, felt that no escape was possible. The whole of his personality seemed to have become subdued and passive, and even Vivienne’s nearness failed to stir him to revolt.

  Flying on a fresh course, they travelled north-east, over forest, plain, swamp and tracts of agricultural land rich in its geometrical plough pattern. And then, with the coming of dusk, they met their first opposition.

  Tern was not sure over what country they were flying, but he had an idea that it was one of a group more or less at permanent variance with Great Britain. He had been expecting trouble for the last hour or two, and was not really surprised when his keen eyes made out the small fast shapes of a pair of low-winged monoplane fighters closing in on the aircraft from the side.

  The monster too, realised that a test was coming. It sat there immediately behind Tern, its small form hunched up in concentration, its evil eyes staring hard at the oncoming planes.

  “Sent to intercept us and turn us back,” it commented.

  “They’ll shoot us down at the flick of a finger!” said Vivienne nervously. “Aren’t we running our necks straight into trouble?”

  “They will not attack us,” the monster said firmly. “I shall control them and overcome their pilots before they fire.”

  “You hope!” Tern was very doubtful, not a little nervous of the outcome. Even the demonstration at their last landing point had not entirely convinced him. The sight of these two potential enemies bearing down on them bristling with machine-guns and cannons was not an encouraging one. He held his course grimly, prepared to take evasive action at the slightest provocation or sign of open hostility.

  The fighters ranged themselves one on either side of him, throttling back till they flew at exactly the same speed. He could see the faces of the pilots clearly, as well as the plane markings, the sight of which did not inspire confidence.

  “You’re a damn fool and you know it!” he threw over his shoulder at the monster.

  “They’re making signs to us!” gasped Vivienne.

  Tern raised a hand and waved to the nearer of the fighters. There was no answering grin on the pilot’s face; rather did the man’s expression harden ominously.

  “What price your long distance control?” sneered Tern.

  The monster said nothing, though whether from chagrin or because it was concentrating so hard it was impossible to tell. Then without any warning one of the fighters peeled off, coming in again at a tangent.

  “Here it comes!” muttered Tern. As the first stream of bullets passed ahead of them he thrust the nose down and dived the plane abruptly. The second fighter followed him down. Chips flew from one of the wings as a cannon shell tore its way through alongside the port engine. Tern’s face was white and set as he jockeyed the plane for all he was worth, diving and twisting like a fish in the sky. But he knew he was merely postponing the evil hour. However good he was he could not hope to stand up to this kind of attack, and being unarmed itself, his own plane was helpless to retaliate.

  The monster was muttering venomously to itself, dismayed at its own failure to hold off the enemy pilots as it had fully expected to do.

  Vivienne cringed down in her seat, clinging to anything she could lay hand on for support as the aircraft bucketed about the sky.

  Brooking rolled off his seat and thudded on the floor. He was screaming at intervals now, both from fear and madness.

  Then there was a shock and a dull explosion. The plane pitched violently as a shell ripped into the starboard engine nacelle, breaking something with a heavy concussion. Tern fought desperately for control. A long streamer of black smoke began to curl and whip back from the damaged engine. It was out of action now, and the earth was making dizzy circles as it rose to meet the spinning aircraft.

  How he ever managed it Tern did not know, but when the plane was only a few hundred feet above the wooded, snow-clad hills towards which they were spinning, he brought it on to an even keel and succeeded in holding it on a more or less straight glide. The second engine had failed by this time, and the plane felt heavy, slow to answer its controls. The port wing was flapping as if it had been made of brown paper and might at any moment fly to pieces.

  The two fighters were following the aircraft down, close on its tail. Tern could imagine the pilots with their fingers resting on the gun buttons, smiling to themselves. What, a magnificent victory to report when they returned to base!

  But his hands were full with the immediate needs of the moment. He dare not stretch the glide too much, yet the nature of the ground below was most inhospitable for a forced landing.

  “There’s a clear patch, darling!” cried Vivienne suddenly. She pointed across his shoulder, a little to one side of the line being taken by the staggering plane.

  Tern had to make up his mind quickly. He might just reach it, he thought. It seemed very small, a tiny clearing among the trees, white with snow. What lay beneath the snow he could only guess. If there were jagged rocks they would fare uncomfortably. But it was either that or the tree-tops.

  Still conscious of the two fighters on his tail, he made a cautious turn, flattening out quickly. The clearing was very near now. He had too much height. He slipped it off neatly, dropping behind the screen of trees and touching the snow-covered ground. For a moment or two the plane floated on, reluctant to touch down, it seemed. Then there was a jarring thud, a flurry of churned up snow, and the plane did a graceful nose-down ploughing manoeuvre before coming to rest with its forepart deep in a drift.

  An appalling silence settled in the cabin. Then it was broken abruptly by a groaning cry from Brooking as his body catapulted down the gangway between the seats and crashed against the back of Vivienne’s place. Luckily Vivienne and her companions had had the presence of mind to fasten their straps, or else it might have fared badly with them. Tern could have wished that the monster had forgotten, but there was no chance of that.

  “We’ve arrived,” he said grimly. He was so relieved at having got down in one piece after being shot up that he grinned round at the hideous face of the Blue Peril. And his hand reached out to Vivienne in a silent gesture of gladness.

  “We must leave the vicinity before the wreck is investigated,” said the monster. “I am disappointed that I could not control those pilots, but the explanation is a simple one.”

  Tern frowned. “How do you mean?” he grunted.

  “They did not understand the language with which I was born; that is all. I tried to control them using thought impulses phrased in English. It was foolish of me, but a failing I shall quickly remedy when I have given their own tongue enough thought to absorb it. When we refuelled, the men there must have been English-speaking.”

  Vivienne sighed unbelievingly. She stil
l clung to Tern. He undid his straps and clambered towards the cabin door. Up above he could hear the drone of the fighters. They were circling watchfully overhead, waiting, like falcons, to pounce.

  The monster said: “Open the door, Tern. Head for the nearest cover.”

  Tern swung round. “We all leave together, damn you! Those swine will open up the moment we appear. Send Brooking out first if you want a decoy to take the fire!”

  They eyed each other warily. Then Tern was suddenly moving towards the door, opening it slowly, peering out and up at the slanting fuselage. He jumped to the ground, sinking to his waist in drifted snow. He was doing it all without thinking, acting on the unspoken command of the Blue Peril. And behind him he could hear Vivienne’s broken cry as he left her. But somehow or other it made no difference.

  He began to flounder through the snow, struggling to reach the closeness of standing timber not far away, shivering with the cold that crept into his bones the moment he left the warmth and protection of the cabin. Less than ten seconds after leaving the plane the air seemed to crack with the whiplash of bullets. One of the fighters dived, firing as it came, intent on mowing him down. Bullets kicked up the snow all round him, carving a trench to one side, spattering his face with icy crystals. He felt the fan of bullet wind. Then he flattened himself to the ground, cursing wildly. The hail of lead had missed him by bare inches. Now the fighter was zooming upwards again. The second machine had not yet positioned itself for an attack. Tern had a few moments grace in which to reach the shelter of the tree-line.

  Floundering along, he reached the trees just as the second fighter turned on the taps and smothered him in churned up snow. He hurled himself forward the last few yards, staggering and gasping for breath as the boles of the trees at last gave him protection. And there he stayed, hugging the ground, feeling the bitter cold of this northern land enter right inside his flesh and bone.

  He heard Vivienne crying out to him and looked up. Next instant, timing it beautifully between the two attacking planes, the monster appeared in the door of the cabin, holding Vivienne under one arm and the sagging form of Brooking under the other. It leapt far out from the plane, landing lightly beyond the drift in which Tern had floundered. Then it was leaping and thrashing its way towards him, making light of the trip, burdened as it was.