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Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
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Amazing Stories, September 1945,
with "Cursed Cavern of Ra"
It was a strange beauty parlor where these
ugly gnomes went to become handsome men!
THE village of Mammoth was blanketed with rain. Rain pounded down on the squat line of government buildings and sent a white spray bouncing from the side-walks. Above the village, sending up hot steam against the cold downpour, the hot springs bubbled and seethed like desolate cauldrons of the underworld. Dense vapors hung over everything.
Linda Palmer decided that there was no beauty in Mammoth. She stood near the door of the bus, suitcase clutched firmly in one hand as the vehicle halted in front of the hotel.
The people who descended with her were silent and disappointed. They had to spend three months here and the arrival during a heavy storm didn't give them much hope for the future.
Linda followed a group of college students who seemed to know where they were going. She entered the almost deserted lobby. Her instructions were to report to the desk. Ten minutes later she found herself assigned to a small pleasant room facing the high, burned-grass hill behind the hotel.
She unpacked her bag while still under the influence of the dull rain that pelted against the window. A vast loneliness grew within her. She sat on the edge of the bed and stared out of the window.
This wasn't what she had expected.
The trip up the steep winding canyon road had frightened her. Rain made the smooth surface slippery and dangerous. The Yellowstone River was swollen into an angry snake that lashed and pounded down the canyon threatening to tear out the very bridge that the bus crossed.
Her first view of Mammoth was of a deserted square blocked in by ugly gray buildings. Here were the houses of government families, the hospital and the museum.
The hot springs were ugly. They looked from a distance like a mass of steaming horrible brew, symbolic of a sullen underworld that might at any moment crack open and spew forth the white hot vitals of the earth.
Linda thought of Jim Casey. Jim had promised to come this week end. Four days alone before she could see him. She smiled and some of the color came back into her face. She rose and stood before the mirror. In the mirror she saw a slim straight-limbed girl with wheat-colored hair that hung in graceful curls around her neck. Deep blue eyes were filled with mist. There was something behind that mist. Something that she could betray to no one, because she hoped it would be gone before Jim arrived.
Behind those eyes was a reflection of stark fear.
A foolish, unreasonable fear had taken hold of her when she left the train. Fear that clutched her heart and made her hate the hotel, the village, and, most of all, the boiling, steaming pools of water that gurgled out of the earth, hissing their defiance to the upper world.
It was silly for her to be frightened. Yet there must be more to it than met the eye. With a shrug of her slim shoulders, she found a comb and brush in her bag and started brushing out the long hair. Then she realized how hungry she had become. She changed her dress and prepared to go down for dinner.
Before she did this, she lowered the shade against the sullen, treeless hill and against the storm. It was a foolish gesture. She realized this even as she did it. No one could see her from that dead outside world.
Half undressed, she shivered violently. The room was warm, but her body felt like ice. She kicked off both shoes and sank down on the bed, face buried in the pillow. Her body shook and she held the pillow tightly against her ears, hiding the sound of the rain. Hiding from God knew what. She didn't. Hiding, perhaps, from her own unfounded fear of tragedy about to strike.
WALTER FREEDLY stopped in front of the small cabin and rolled
down the car window. Freedly had that excited, pioneering grin on
his face that marks people who have wanted to see the world for a
long time and have at last broken away from the ties of the
armchair to carry out their wish.
A raincoated figure emerged from the cabin and approached the car.
"Picked a bad day to come in," the Ranger said. He had a shock of red hair that emerged in spots from under his hat. He didn't seem to mind the rain.
Freedly matched the grin.
"Wife and I have been planning this Yellowstone trip for ten years," he said. "It'll take a lot more than rain to keep us from enjoying it."
He answered half a dozen questions, said that he didn't have any guns to be sealed, accepted a pass and a sticker for the windshield and paid the entrance fee. Baby Joe was crying out his lungs in the back seat; and Jean, God bless her, was trying to keep the kid quiet.
The Ranger started to turn away, then pivoted and faced Freedly again.
"Better drive slow up the canyon," he said. "The road's pretty wet. Bus damn near skidded into the river this morning."
Freedly nodded. "These roads are plenty crooked after living all your life in Nebraska."
The Ranger chuckled. "After you're here a while, you car will drive itself," he said. "The steering wheel gets a permanent curve in it after a little exercising."
He was silent for a moment and baby Joe's crying filled the gap. The Ranger peered into the rear seat, saw Jean Freedly and touched the brim of his hat.
"Better get that baby to bed as soon as you get to Mammoth," he said. "The hotel company has some nice cabins. Drive through town and on tip the Golden Gate road. You'll find the cabins on the left hand side of the road opposite the springs."
Jean muttered an appropriate "thank you" and Walter Freedly pushed the clutch down and shifted into low gear.
"Thanks for all the kind service," he said. "I hope this weather doesn't last."
The Ranger was backing toward the warmth of the cabin.
"Tomorrow there won't be a cloud in the sky," he said. "And the sky here is the highest, bluest sky you've ever seen."
The car picked up speed and rounded a right curve into the narrow canyon.
Walter Freedly's face still glowed with excitement.
In the rear seat of the car, Joe Freedly, age one year, would not stop crying. It worried his mother, Jean, and the comely-faced woman wondered if something was hurting the child. She had given him a bottle of milk, but he pushed it away, screaming. It was a scream of terror, unabated and growing louder as the car climbed up the steep twisting road toward Mammoth. They came out on the flats, passed through the tiny town and went upward again, at last reaching the cabins and the long low hotel constructed of native logs.
IN another half hour the Freedlys were warmly at home in a
two-room cabin. Walter removed his shoes and sank back on one of
the beds. Joe had at last grown quiet and was sleeping in the
other room.
"Walter—" Jean Freedly was washing from a basin of water her husband had carried from the tap outside. "I'm—I'm worried about Joe."
Walter Freedly turned half around, cushioned his head on his arm and stared at his wife's strong capable back.
"He'll be all right," he said. "Maybe the altitude bothers him. It does some people, at first. They even get bloody noses from this thin air. Joe will be all right."
Jean continued to wash. Her dark hair gleamed under the single, naked light bulb. She was still very pretty, endowed with that youthful fresh appearance that keeps some women over thirty from growing sloppy.
"It's something else," she said. "He cried harder than I've ever heard him cry before. Walter, I know this sounds odd, but I'd swear that Joe is frightened of something."
Walter Freedly smiled, snorted good-naturedly.
"For instance?"
She turned to face him and her face was very red.
"I knew you'd laugh at me, but it's like that time the big torn cat scratched Joe. He screamed then, and he wouldn't have anything else to do with cats. He screamed like that again today, Walter."
Walter Freedly stood up. Frowning, he moved to the window and stared out at the row upon row of identical cabins. He too was worried about Joe, but he wouldn't admit it. He was worried about Jean and himself. If Joe continued to act this way, their whole vacation would be ruined. The vacation had grown from a dream. It was their first great adventure together, and they had been saving for it for over ten years.
"I guess I noticed Joe more than I let you know," he admitted. "He does seem pretty badly stirred up. He's resting better now, though, isn't he?"
Jean nodded.
"He's sleeping," she admitted. "But he keeps sobbing in his sleep."
Through the window, Walter Freedly could see people dashing from one cabin to another with coats thrown over their heads. He could just make out the hill and the steaming hot springs up beyond the road. He had seen very little of Yellowstone thus far, but the Ranger said that tomorrow would be bright and the sky clear. His spirits rose. He turned, crossed the room and put his arms around Jean. He felt awkward and of little value to her when she was worried.
Her lips met his and he kissed her tenderly.
"We'll all feel better in the morning," he said softly. "The sun will cure all that's wrong with us."
She nodded ever so slightly, but there were tears in her eyes.
"I hope so," she said. "I wouldn't want to spoil your good time. We've both been planning this for so long, I don't think I could take it."
He released her and found his coat behind the door.
"I'm going to take a look around," he said. "There must be a store close by."
He turned as he reached the door and looked back. Jean was staring at him, her lips opened, fright plainly etched on her plain face.
"Walter—it's the way Joe screamed and fought against everything I tried to do for him that worries me. Walter, do you believe that babies can see things that we cannot?"
The question upset him so badly that for a moment he was going to swear aloud.
"Jean," he said sharply. "What made you say that?"
"I guess it sounds wild," she said slowly. "But a fortune teller told me once that I should beware when the baby senses danger. I thought, back in that canyon, that maybe Joe sensed an accident. Then, when we reached here safely I wondered. There is a strange, unholy feeling about this place. It's the storm, and—and those awful springs, boiling and seething out of the earth. The earth trembles and you can feel it going to pieces underneath..."
She paused. "I'm a fool," she added abruptly and turned away.
Freedly went out, closing the door quietly behind him. Did children sense tragedy that older eyes cannot see? He trudged toward the hotel. His vacation was certainly getting off to a hell of a start.
JENNY WALKER bustled around the tiny interior of the trailer
and pulled the heavy curtains tightly together. Jenny Walker had
driven a thousand miles this spring, and her urge to see as many
places as possible before fall had brought her into the tourist
camp below Mammoth Hot Springs. Now that she was here, she didn't
like it.
Jenny had no family ties. No ties at all except for grumpy Fred Stark. She sniffed, returned to the camp stove and started to pump air into it. Fred Stark indeed! He was driving up from Denver. In fact, he'd be here tomorrow morning, barring floods and wash-outs. Oh, yes, he'd be here.
Jenny was puffing by the time the stove was ready to light. She realized that a woman of sixty, fat around the waistline and trying not to show it, could never fool herself. She was getting old, Jenny was, and if Fred Stark wanted to start that lovey-dovey stuff this time, he might find that he had a handful of trouble. She was almost ready to become Mrs. Fred Stark and settle in Denver for the remainder of her too few years.
Odd, but the feeling of a few minutes back came again. She felt the hair on her neck prickle, and her hands shook as she reached under the stove for the coffee pot.
It was the feeling one gets when someone, or something, is staring at the back of your neck. She turned quickly—not frightened, just jumpy. The door was locked. Every curtain was drawn snugly. Still, she couldn't throw off that prickly feeling.
She went to the door, threw it open quickly and stared out into the night. The air seemed vibrant and alive. It was getting cold, and the lights in the cafeteria a short distance from the camp cut through the windows and made weird designs on the ground outside.
The tents and trailers around her were silent, dark. Sagebrushers turned in early to escape memories of the hot dusty road.
Outside of one dilapidated starved-looking bear that prowled near the garbage cans, no movement took place in the camp area. She shivered, this time from the cold, and closed the door. She slipped both bolts into place.
It was warm inside. After she ate she didn't feel like sleeping. Far away up the hill beyond Mammoth, the hot springs were making queer slobbering sounds. It had rained all day, but from the looks of the sky, tomorrow would be much better.
She crawled into the small bed wedged into one end of the trailer and stretched her weary body. Still sleep wouldn't come.
She swore softly to herself.
"Damned imagination will be the death of me. Imagine anyone spying on an old bag like me."
With an angry snort, she wrapped the bed clothes around her and buried her head in the pillow. Tomorrow would bring Fred Stark from Denver and she would marry him and get the hell out of this place. It was dreary and desolate for all the dozens of families that slept around her. Suddenly she hated Yellowstone and the ugly, spouting fires of the underground that sent hot water thundering into the sky. The last thing Jenny Walker remembered as she slipped Into fitful slumber was that a naked eye, huge and the color of blood just seemed to stare at her between the not entirely closed curtains at the far end of the trailer. It wasn't a pleasant idea, but she credited it to imagination and hid her face deeper into the pillow. She had to get some sleep.
RANGER FRANK YOUNG picked up the telephone from his desk in
the administration building and spoke in a low, naturally
friendly voice.
"Young speaking."
The voice at the far end of the line was high-pitched with excitement. He recognized Jerry Sloan, desk clerk at the hotel.
"Mr. Young, for God's sake hurry over here. Something terrible has happened."
Young reached for his wide-brimmed hat, still holding the phone in his other hand.
"What's up?" Nothing in his voice betrayed excitement. Young was forty and brown and hard as most of the park men were. He had faced everything from bears to bootleggers and didn't rise quickly to any bait.
"A girl has disappeared." Sloan's voice was strained to the cracking point. There was no faking the fear evident in his words. "One of our waitresses has disappeared."
Ranger Young dropped the hat once more and chuckled.
"Probably out rotten-logging with some nice Ranger," he said. "I wouldn't worry too—"
"Wait!" Genuine panic was in Sloan's voice. "It isn't that. It isn't that at all. There's someone, something in Miss Palmer's room."
Young's jaw tightened.
"Let's start all over again," he urged.
He could hear Sloan catch his breath. He sounded somewhat calmer when he spoke again.
"A friend of Miss Palmer called her this morning. When the girl didn't answer she went in. There was—there still is something horrible in Miss Palmer's bed. I—I—Oh, for God's sake, Young, come over here! I think Miss Palmer's been murdered."
"Why didn't you say so?"
Young dropped the phone, sprang to his feet and went toward the door. He turned and spoke to the ranger who sat before the radio control board.
"Tell the boss I'm at the hotel, Pete. Someone is in trouble over there."
Pete looked up, grinned and nodded.
"Young to the rescue," he said. "I—" Young was already out of hearing distance. His boots pounded loudly on the long, straight flight of stairs. The administration building was close to the hotel. Young didn't stop running until he stood before the hotel desk. The lobby was quiet. Evidently Sloan hadn't spoken to anyone. Sloan was pale-faced, bald-headed, a little man. He grasped a bunch of keys as he saw Young enter, and rounded the end of the desk.
"This way," he said.
RANGER FRANK YOUNG stood at the foot of the bed, staring with
shocked eyes at the thing on the bed. No amount of imagination
could convince him that this corpse had ever been an attractive
girl. Linda Palmer had been a fresh lovely person.
This—well!
The corpse was evidently a woman, for the hair was long and stringy. It wore a garment composed, as nearly as he could see, of black burlap. The arms and legs were scrawny to a point where the bones showed through at every joint. The face was the worst. It was composed mostly of two staring, sightless eyes. The eyes were nearly two inches across, and bloody red. The nose had been mashed down at birth so that it covered the entire middle of her face. The mouth was wide, grinning and absolutely toothless.
"Brown," Sloan said. "The whole body brown and withered like—like it was a mummy."
His voice broke the spell. Young jerked his eyes away from the thing and faced Jerry Sloan.
"You haven't found any trace of the girl?"
Sloan shook his head slowly from side to side. His eyes were glued to the monster on the bed. He seemed hypnotised.
"It isn't human."
Young agreed with him. It wasn't. He turned to the writing desk and picked up the picture of Linda Palmer. She was lovely, if he could judge by the fair complexion of the face that stared at him from the portrait. Her hair, fine and curling gently about a soft throat, was like spun silver.
"I haven't seen this girl around," he said.
"This is her first year," Sloan offered. "Works for the railroad as hostess. Got transferred up here for her vacation. She said she was expecting a boy friend this week end."
Young nodded.
"Lucky guy," he said, then frowned. "But—where in hell could she have gone to? I'd still guess that she went out with some ninety day wonder and forgot to come home. It's—it's that thing on the bed that got me stumped."
Sloan said: "Me too. I haven't told anyone about it. I thought I'd better speak to you first."
Young nodded.
"That's right," he said. "I'll have some of the boys come up for it. We can carry it out the back way."
He reached for the phone, but it rang before he could pick it up. He stepped away and motioned to Sloan to answer. Sloan picked up the phone and said, "Jerald Sloan speaking."
The babble of a voice filled the silent room. Young looked again at the creature on the bed. Its limbs were stretched in an awkward, gangling position.
"It's for you," Sloan said. "The Lodge called because Pete said you were over here."
Young took the phone.
"Hello," he said. "That you, Herb?"
He heard neat little Herbert Jennings, manager up at the Lodge, sputtering loudly.
"Some tourists up here say they lost their baby," he said. "They're driving me nuts."
Young's breath sucked in sharply.
"That all?"
"No," Jennings said. "They—"
"Probably found a goblin in its crib," Young said in a terse voice.
He heard Jennings moan.
"That's exactly what they said," he cried. "How in hell did you—?"
"I'm a mind reader," Young said, and looked at Sloan. "Keep them as calm as possible. I'm on my way up."
JEAN FREEDLY was an attractive woman in her middle thirties.
Now, however, her face was so streaked with tears as she sat
stiffly in Jennings's office, that all the beauty had fled. There
was only stark terror in those large brown eyes. Walter Freedly,
a tall, rather gaunt man with a friendly mouth and seamed face
had better control of himself. His hand, where it gripped the top
of his wife's chair, was white and bloodless.
Herb Jennings, the manager of the Lodge, paced back and forth across the bear rug that covered most of the floor.
"We haven't been down to the cabin since you talked with me on the phone," he told Young. "That remark you made. What's it all about?"
Young wasn't smiling now. This was a problem involving human lives.
"I'd rather say nothing," he said, "until I hear Mr. and Mrs. Freedly's story."
Jean Freedly started to sob. She tried to speak but her husband interrupted.
"I'll tell him, dear," he said. "Don't try to talk now."
He looked straight at Young with hard, unwavering eyes.
"It's the most ghastly thing I've ever seen," he said. "The baby—his name is Joe—cried all evening. We went to bed about eleven. Joe gave up about midnight and we thought he'd gone to sleep. Once, about two in the morning, I guess, I thought I heard a bear walking around outside. I've heard how they act and didn't pay any attention to the noise."
He took a long breath.
"Come down to the cabin with me," he said.
Jean Freedly started to rise but her husband forced her gently back into the chair.
"You'd better stay here with Mr. Jennings," he said.
Together, Freedly and Young went down the line of cabins and into a double. Freedly approached the partition that separated the two rooms.
"Take a look," he said. His face was pale. "I'd rather not."
Young knew what he was going to see. Knew it before he opened the door and stared down at the grotesque dead body of the tiny dwarf. It shook him badly, though, the unclean brown flesh, huge red eyes hidden among the blue baby blankets that covered the bed. He closed the door quickly. Freedly's hand touched his arm and he spun around.
"I'm just an ordinary guy," Freedly said, and his eyes were strangely dead and colorless. "But—what the hell caused this? It—it isn't human, is it?"
Young's lips were pressed in a hard bloodless line.
"It may not be human," he said, "but may the Lord protect the devils that are responsible for all this."
JENNY WALKER'S trailer was deserted. Not a trace of her could
be found. It was Fred Stark, tall, gaunt and fiftyish who
reported her disappearance at the park administration building.
Now, in her trailer, he talked quietly with Ranger Young. Stark
was a westerner, partially bald with a fringe of snow hair around
his scalp. His long, tanned fingers clenched and unclenched as he
talked.
"I don't know what happened to Jenny," he told Young in a cool, hard voice, "but if they harmed a hair of her head. I'll make up a lynching party for them."
Young nodded sympathetically. He was only half listening to Stark. His mind went back to the lovely girl who had disappeared from the hotel bed. To the baby who had changed places with a dead goblin. Perhaps it was better for himself and Stark that Jenny Walker's bed was empty—that the supply of mummy-like corpses had seemingly run out. A man's brain could absorb about so much. After that—well, he might blow up completely.
A HEAVY brown-skinned figure crouched in the underbrush behind
the Coffee Shop. Here a ravine cut deeply into the hills. The
ravine was filled with evergreens and a lush growth of deep grass
and flowering plants.
The sun was high in the sky overhead. It was the day after Linda Palmer's disappearance.
The brown figure might have been called fat. Large, unhealthy wrinkles of flesh hung from its body. The hands and feet were bony and impregnated with dirt where it had crawled forward slowly, weakly, pulling itself without strength, with only will power to go on.
Now it rested, dull red eyes staring wildly out of the undergrowth watching men and women as they toiled up the slopes toward the springs. It lay very still, panting with the heat. The eyes blinked from time to time in panic, as sounds came from near by.
The afternoon died. The tourists retreated toward the hotel. A long line of buses drove away from the hotel up beyond the lodge. The creature listened dumbly as the sounds of the powerful motors died away, going up the road toward the Golden Gate and the Canyon.
The sun went down and the hidden creature could hear singing from the building behind the Coffee Shop. College boys were holding a party in their dormitory. But the sound was strange to the brown figure and it shook its head angrily, trying to escape the noise.
It started to crawl again into the open and up the rough stony flank of the hill.
The springs were terraced and boiling water ran down from pool to pool. The earth shook and cracked underneath seeking a weak spot in the crust to break through. The sluggish snail-like pace of the creature carried it around the pools and toward the crest of the hill. The moon rose and the thing slowed its pace, breathing fast, staring back wildly at the silent, moonlit town.
The black shadow of a man detached himself from the building near the Coffee Shop and started slowly up the sidewalk toward the hot springs. The man came on slowly, without hesitation. The brown-skinned creature lurched desperately to its feet and started to run. Its pace was awkward but it managed to reach the board walk that led toward the crest of the hill and Devil's Kitchen.
A cry arose behind it and staring wildly back, it saw the man gather speed and start to run toward it.
With a scream, the brown creature ran toward the gash in the earth that led down into Devil's Kitchen. It reached the long flight of wooden steps that went into the abyss below. Here, in the very shadow of safety, it stumbled.
Ranger Frank Young stopped short, the stifling horrible scream drifting down to him. His teeth clamped together and he felt the hair on his neck stand up straight. He reached for his revolver, released the safety and started to run again, upward toward Devil's Kitchen. He knew every inch of the deep black gash at the crest of the hill.
He reached the rail that protected tourists from falling to their deaths. He whipped a flash light from his pocket and shot the powerful white beam down the wooden steps toward the bottom of the pit.
He didn't have to go down, not then. He knew why there had been no corpse in Jenny Walker's bed. At the bottom of the stairs was the twisted, grotesque body of Jenny Walker's inhuman caricature. It had evidently been left for dead and revived itself enough to try what almost became a successful escape.
He had wondered why two beds had been left occupied while the third was empty. That problem had sent him on a search that ended, of all places, at Devil's Kitchen.
He took a few steps downward, sending the beam of light around the smooth bare stone walls. He didn't look at the ugly corpse again. He heard the walls far below groaning and cracking from underground pressure. Bats flew back and forth, stirred from their sleep by the intruding light.
Young backed up the stairs and stood for a long time, staring away at the velvety star-pricked sky. Had he found a clue? Did he know where the strange people came from? Devil's Kitchen had no lower entrance. It was a warm, stony pit in the earth that went nowhere. Unless....
Perhaps the stones cracked and groaned for a purpose. Perhaps they opened when necessary to allow these spawn from Hell to climb up into the upper world. He turned away and went down the trail slowly. The gun was still clutched tightly in his right hand. His knuckles were white and his fingers were so tight around the barrel of the pistol that they ached. He could feel the perspiration on his face.
THE group of men made themselves more or less comfortable in
the bare pine-furnished room at the head of the stairs. In one
corner, Pete, the radio man, talked continually over the short
wave. Chief Ranger Tom Walker sat behind the desk. Walker wasn't
sure just what he was waiting for because, so far as he could
see, there was no solution to the problem he faced. Frank Young
had related to him the entire story of the missing tourists.
Young also told Walker what he had seen at Devil's Kitchen. As
yet the others knew nothing of the incident.
Walker looked around at the solemn-faced men. Fred Stark, Denver lawyer, gray, hard and determined. Freedly, the father of the lost baby, his eyes strangely red, fists clenched, puffing steadily on a cigarette. The newcomer, James Casey had introduced himself and Walker liked the slim, dark-skinned boy very much. Casey, it seemed, was wildly in love with the girl who had disappeared from the hotel.
Walker shook his head. His lean, wrinkled face was a study.
"I've asked you to come up here for a twofold reason," he said. Every man in the room stopped talking and stared hopefully at him. "Ranger Young has given me all the details and I confess I'm stumped."
The eyes that watched him wavered. Some of them studied the floor. Not a sound interrupted his train of thought.
"Three people, one of them a child, have disappeared seemingly from the face of the earth." Walker arose then, his figure arced easily across the top of the desk. "What troubles me more are the circumstances under which all this happened."
He didn't wait for them to speak. No one had anything to Say. They waited for him to continue.
"This has all been reported to the police. However, because of the queer, almost ghoul-like corpses that were found, we are asking that no publicity be given us, at least for the present."
Walter Freedly fidgeted. He pressed the coal from his cigarette and tossed it to the floor.
"But meanwhile, what about Joe? What of the others? We've got to find them before it's—"
His voice broke.
"I know how you feel, Mr. Freedly," Walker said, "but this isn't an ordinary kidnaping. It's something worse—far worse."
The room was hot and he mopped his forehead with a clean handkerchief.
"I'd like Young to tell you what he saw last night. I think it will give you some idea of what we'-re up against."
Young told his story quietly, without dramatics. When he had finished, he said:
"I went up to the Kitchen this morning with half a dozen Rangers. We were going to bring down that—that body. We looked high and low for it but it was gone."
Mr. Stark growled something low in his throat.
"Mr. Stark?"
"I said we'd better get some action pretty soon or by God, 111 start tearing this park down stone by stone. Something's got to be done."
Frank Walker's face was very grave.
"Just where can we start? We might post a guard at Devil's Kitchen. It looks as though the things we are dealing with aren't—"
"—aren't human," Jim Casey said in a calm voice. "Well, human or not, they can die. We've found that out already. They're coming from somewhere and it looks as though it's from underground. I, for one, am going to buy the best rifle I can find and go hunting."
"Just a minute." Young sprang to his feet. "We can't start a panic among the other tourists. I know how every one of you feels. That's why I've tried to figure out some intelligent plan for action."
He crossed the room and threw open the door to a small closet. It contained racks and on the racks were gleaming rifles.
"Government equipment," he said. "Ordinarily we seal all guns in the park. Starting tonight, we will station men at Devil's Kitchen. We'll cover that place from every angle, above and below."
He looked at Chief-Ranger Walker, and Walker nodded.
"Because you men have reason to want to see this thing through, I'm swearing you all in as officers of the law. Tonight, when there is no danger of you being seen with firearms, I'll issue a rifle to each of you. You can take turns with the regular Rangers, standing guard up on the hill."
He paused and sighed.
"It's a new way of handling law and order," he said. "Well let the police cover the other channels. I've got a hunch that our problem hinges on what happens up there at Devil's Kitchen. I play my hunches. Is it a deal?"
They backed him up, each in his own way. Freedly stood up, chain-lighted another cigarette and chewed hard on it.
"Let me line my sights up on the one who took Joe, and I'll find out where Joe is or die trying."
"Good," Walker said. "Then tonight we'll go hunting for these beasts of the underground. Good luck, and depend on me to do everything I can."
TO Jim Casey, Yellowstone and the hot springs were not
strange. He had driven a bus here for two summers, worked as dish
washer during another. Now, in the traffic branch of the Northern
Pacific, Casey found little time for vacations. This one was to
be his first opportunity to see Linda Palmer away from her job
and they had planned to see all the places he had told her
of.
Casey stood fifteen feet from the top of Devil's Kitchen, his supple body against a gnarled pine, rifle balanced easily in the crook of his arm. He couldn't analyze his thoughts of what was happening or rather what wasn't happening. He had arrived late, only to hear the strange story of what had happened from Ranger Frank Young.
Thinking about it, he swore softly and fingered the trigger of the rifle. It was an expensive model, accurate and powerful. He wondered how he would know, in the dark, if he was firing at friend or foe.
His eyes were wide, trying to pierce the blackness around the head of the shaft that led into the earth. He looked at his wrist watch and when he looked up again, something was moving near the top of the steps that led out of the shaft. He started to lift his rifle.
"Take it easy, Casey." Young's voice was steady. "Nothing happening down there."
He came toward Casey and Casey's rifle settled back in his arm.
"I left two Rangers down below," Young said. "I wanted to talk to you."
"Go ahead," Casey said.
"About what we're doing," Young went on. "Do you think I'm crazy?"
Casey shrugged.
"No one is crazy when he's helping me find the girl I love. If they harm Linda...."
Young put a hand on Jim Casey's shoulder.
"I got a hunch that I'm right," he said. "Somehow Devil's Kitchen and those monsters are connected. The one that fell down the stairs was trying to go somewhere. Trying to struggle back to where it came from. I'm sure of that."
"You don't have to try to convince me," Casey said. "We all believe in you. It may take time to prove it."
"Thanks." Young turned and went back toward the shaft. As he did so, a voice, hollow and far away, drifted up from below.
"Young."
Young increased his pace, and Jim Casey took several curious steps after him. Then the call came again, but this time it wasn't casual. It was a half-choked scream. A scream that rose and fell suddenly, leaving only the echo, unbroken silence.
"Casey!" Young shouted. "Follow me!"
The order wasn't necessary. Casey broke into a swift run. He hit the top of the stairs—to see Young, already half way to the bottom. He missed every other step, half running, half falling toward the bottom of the shaft. It was warm down there. It was like the inside of an ink well, with Young's flashlight tracing clean trails of light across the floor. Casey reached the bottom and stood still, listening.
DEVIL'S KITCHEN had evidently been formed when the earth split
and wrenched itself apart under the pressure from below. The
walls pressed in closely and trails led away in two directions
from the bottom of the stairs. Young evidently knew where the
call had come from.
Close behind Young. Casey rounded a small turn in the cavern and stopped short. Young was standing there, rifle gripped in one hand, flashlight searching frantically back and forth across the cave. There was something futile about that beam of light, searching without finding what it searched for. Young whirled around and ran past Casey in the opposite direction. He didn't speak. He was panting. Knowing nothing better to do, Casey followed and together they covered every inch of the cavern. At last Young turned and faced him. His face was white. The flashlight shook in his hand.
"Gone," he said. "Ten minutes ago there were two men down here, armed with rifles. Now—not a trace of them."
Casey stared back grimly.
"We're sure of one thing," he said. "There is another way out of here. Those poor devils took it."
YOUNG took no further chances. He posted Casey, Freedly, Fred
Stark and himself in the cave. Above, around the entrance were
four of his best men. No one spoke now. A grimness mixed with
awful uncertainty took hold of them. They waited—for what
or for how long they didn't dare guess. Their weapons were
flashlights against the darkness and rifles against—they
hated to guess what.
It was an odd situation. Waiting there in the dark, poised to throw light or lead in any direction at a moment's notice. Wondering who would first cry out.
Jim Casey remembered that choked, terrible cry that summoned Young. Casey was standing near Fred Stark far into one of the narrow niches that led to a blind alley at the far end of the cave. They had been waiting together for half an hour. Casey heard Stark fumble for a cigar, tear the cellophane from it and the sound of Stark's teeth tearing at the end of the weed was quite audible in the silence. Then Stark cursed almost in a whisper and tossed the cigar to the floor. It might betray them. Casey wondered how it would feel to have the enemy this close to you in the dark. Stark's figure was faintly visible and as Casey strained his eyes to make out more of his new found companion, it seemed to him that the cave was growing slightly lighter. Stark's whole body could be seen in a crazy, yellow half light.
At first he thought it was a trick his eyes were playing. Then, before he had entirely grasped the truth, he heard Stark's breathing as it grew louder, tense.
"Look behind you!"
Stark's words were no more than a whisper but they startled him. He whirled around and a small pebble shot from under his shoe and bounced down the rocks. The sound seemed loud, though above ground it would have gone unnoticed.
Casey saw the opening in the rocks. Saw the clear, yellow light that came from beyond, blinding him and sending his hand to his eyes. Then Stark's voice rose in a warning shout. It was too late.
A half dozen short, animal-like figures shot into the cave. Casey tried to lift his rifle, but one of them knocked it from his hands. He couldn't remember much about what happened after that. Something hit his left shoulder a terrific blow and he went down under the weight of his attackers. He heard Stark cry out again and tried to shout.
"Young, Freed...."
The opening that led into that strange, yellow world was wide. Through it poured a horde of deformed gnomes. Casey struggled to free himself, but it was useless. Still clinging tightly to his rifle, he was dragged through the opening. The light blinded, him and searing, fiery pain tore deep into his shoulder.
Teeth—tearing his shoulder apart.
"Young...." His voice was low and a broken sob.
After that, the light blanked out.
JIM CASEY felt the pain in his shoulder first. It throbbed and
ached as he tried to move his arm. Then the old pain came back,
like a knife tearing a fresh wound. He didn't open his eyes. He
lay very still, trying to suppress the groaning sound that came
from his lips.
"Waken."
The word was spoken gently, urgently.
He opened his eyes and stared at the creature who had spoken. The face that stared down at him was very strange. He realized that his naked body was covered with a warm, white blanket of extremely light material. That he was in a room shaped like the inside of an egg shell, with pale ivory walls through which warmth and light poured continually. His nurse, if nurse she was, was ugly to the point of being disgusting. Casey looked her over carefully as she crouched beside him on her knees, watching him with brown, interested eyes. She might be young, for her body looked slim. It was brown, though, and encased in a cloth of the same color that made her look like something peering from the inside of a burlap bag. Her eyes were large and studied him from a wrinkled face. The woman looked half alive, half mummified.
"Waken," she said again. "Waken."
The voice was flat, expressionless, like a record repeating its message without thought.
"I'm awake," he said impatiently, and started to sit up. The pain in his shoulder was too much and he sank back, groaning. At once she was on her feet, skinny brown hands touching the bandage on his shoulder.
"Must be careful," she said. "Must not move shoulder."
All this time their voices were the only sounds within the room. It was as though he had been hidden under a bell. As though nothing in the world existed other than the bell and he and the creature who cared for him. He remembered the fight in the Devil's Kitchen and Young. What had happened to Young and the others?
"My friends?" he said. "What happened to them?"
Her eyes were dumb.
"Friends? I know only of you."
She did, he thought grimly. There was no wiseness in her expression. She was dumb, living in a tiny world near his cot.
"But surely you saw them? You know what happened? Why don't you tell me what's happened?"
She shook her head. Alarm showed in her face.
"I know only of this place, and those who come here," she protested. "You must not question me. I will be punished."
Was it possible? Was it conceivable that a human, if she were human, had to spend her life in a single room?
"Look here," Casey said. "I've got to get out. I've got to find my friends."
She hunched down again at the side of the bed. She shook her head slowly.
"This place open only from outside. When Shindo's guards come, they take you to Cavern of Ra. You cannot go out until they come for you."
For a long time he waited quietly, not speaking again. Casey knew somehow that she spoke the truth. That he had been thrust in upon her and that she had cared for him carefully, nursing his wounded shoulder.
At last he tried again.
"Who is Shindo?"
She shook her head.
"What about the caverns of Ra? Ra means sun, doesn't it? Where are they? Why are they called—"
He halted abruptly. She was shaking her head no, steadily, convincingly.
"Okay," he said. "What's your name. Is that a secret also?"
A faint smile lighted the plain, wrinkled face.
"My name is Lano and I am of Shindo's staff," she said. "I have nursed many of Shindo's warriors back to health."
"I want to know more about Shindo. Where does he stay?"
He swore as she shook her head again. It was useless. To make her talk would mean trouble for both of them. She treated him gently. Casey had already come to overlook her ugliness and be thankful for the girl. It had been she who had brought him back to health, perhaps saved his life. He reached out and put his hand on top of her ugly head.
"Thanks," he said. "I won't bother you again."
She startled him by taking his hand in her own and kissing it quickly. Then she retreated to the far wall, sat down with her back to him and remained there. She would not look at him again. She was probably embarrassed.
The light that penetrated the wall grew warm and soothing. At last Casey managed to sleep. It was a long sleep, restful and without dreams.
RANGER YOUNG stared with disbelief at the creatures that
entered the domed room. For the past four hours, by his wrist
watch, he had been confined to the well-lighted prison, his only
company being a fat, misshapen old crone like the one he had seen
plunge to her death only a few hours before. He had tried, and
failed, to get her to talk. He had sat on the edge of the single
cot, waiting he knew not what for. Now, at least, he had
something tangible to do. Something to keep him from going mad
with inaction. The two men—for he supposed that was what
they were—were hardly over four feet tall. Their bodies
were wrinkled and overlayed with brown, rolling skin. Their eyes
were expressionless, almost red in color, and deeply set in their
sockets.
They carried between them a strange blanket-like cloth with a helmet attached to it. The cloth was black. The helmet was constructed of a transparent, glass-like stuff and shaped like the pointed end of an egg shell.
Reese watched them through narrowed eyes. It was plain to him that they weren't sure of their ground. They weren't acting as they had in the Devil's Kitchen. There they traveled like a wolf pack, gained courage from each other and overpowered him before he had an opportunity to fight back.
He stood up, his fists clenched. He watched them as they came closer. Then he heard the old crone behind him speak.
"It will be useless to fight Shindo's men. Shindo will only send more of them. You will not be tortured—not for the present."
Somehow he gained strength from that voice. It was calm, almost pleasant. It wasn't in character with the wretch who spoke.
He felt relieved. From the first, he had felt that there was something not entirely evil in the woman who watched him. Her body was repulsive. Her voice and actions seemed almost in sympathy with him.
"I won't cause any trouble," he said.
Evidently the little men were able to understand him. They appeared grateful.
They whipped the garment over his shoulders so that the attached helmet came down neatly over his head. To Young's amazement, air seemed to penetrate the glass-like stuff. It smelled strangely sweet and pure, strained through the porous glass.
He looked down at his captors. One of them was motioning him toward the door to the dome room. Young felt like a condemned man walking that last mile. He took a deep breath and crossed his fingers under the robe. The robe was heavy about his shoulders and it clung closely to his body. It was heavy, as though metal had been woven into the fabric.
He stepped out of the room and his eyes widened in amazement. The world—Young's world—was gone.
HE found himself in a massive cavern. The roof was so high
that it was lost in ebony black, high above. Under his feet
smoothly worn paths stretched away in many directions, and close
to him on all sides were dozens of the egg-shaped cells like the
one he had just left. An unpleasant swirling mist whirled him
around and cold air pressed through the robe and chilled his
body.
Out here it was cold, and a semi-twilight hung over the cavern. Yet, the cell had been warm and bright. Even now, light glowed from the dozens of cells near him. He wondered what the explanation could be. Some far-advanced form of illumination and heat? He swore under his breath. These gnomes were primeval, spawn of a horrible past. What would they know about advanced science?
The two misshapen little men were behind him. They prodded him gently, sending him along one of the trails that led beyond the group of cells. As he walked, he became aware of others, covered as he was with the all-enveloping robes, and being driven by other gnomes.
He tried to find out who they were, but either the distance was too great each time, or the mist swirled in hiding everything from him.
As Young walked, he tried to plan, to figure out some method of escape. It was a hopeless task—at least for the present. He assumed that Casey had been captured. He was fairly sure that Fred Stark and Walter Freedly were both down here. The group on the trail was quite large now. He knew that three hooded figures followed him down the trail that went deeper and deeper into the earth. There were two guards to each man. He guessed that Jim Casey, Freedly and Stark were behind him, just as bewildered about what was happening as he was.
Then the trail widened and Young had no more time to worry. Before him the sandy path changed to a hard-surfaced road. The cavern widened and the roof closed in until there was barely head room to pass. The roof, the walls, the surface of the road under his feet were all black and smooth as polished ebony. A rush of warm air came up from below and the road slanted down. Not more than a hundred yards ahead, the road halted before two huge ivory gates. The gates were solid and the contrast between the glowing vibrant ivory and polished ebony was startling.
Before the ivory gates Young halted. He couldn't speak to those behind him. The helmet made communications impossible. He turned and stared back and the gnomes waited until the last group of three caught up. Then one of them opened the gates and called out in a loud voice.
"More prisoners for Shindo have arrived."
There followed a short period of complete silence.
"More," Young breathed silently to himself. "Then—perhaps the others are safe after all."
He stared with open-eyed amazement at the sight beyond the open gates.
Ra was a huge city, stretching away below him as far as he could see. The highway which they had followed ended abruptly at the edge of a high precipice on the other side of the gate. Over this precipice Young could see the huge vaulted dome of the underworld cavern. It glowed brightly, sending a steady powerful light for miles, to every corner of the place. On the floor of the cavern, thousands upon thousands of egg shaped cells spread out neatly as far as he could see. The cells were alike but there the plainness of the city ended.
Patterns, like colorful flower gardens, surrounded every cell. Broad highways traveled back and forth across Ra and on each side of these highways were more colorful gardens.
Young found himself unable to believe what he saw. Those millions of colorful flowers. The mile upon mile of carefully patterned designs were not flowers at all. They sparkled and shimmered under the light of the cavern roof.
What Young first thought were flowers, were, in actuality, millions of huge gems outdoing the rainbow in color and placed carefully in their setting to enhance the beauty of the underworld city. The city of ugly gnomes.
LINDA PALMER sat listlessly, almost hidden under the grand
array of jeweled cloth that covered her body. She sat with both
hands clutching the massive arms of the throne, her small feet
together, head held high. Her eyes swept over the throng below,
studying them carefully, trying desperately not to look
frightened.
Linda Palmer—Queen of the Cavern of Ra.
She shuddered and an icy coldness swept through her.
"Queen of Ra," she said in a low whisper, and turned ever so slightly so that she could see the ugly dwarf, Shindo. Shindo was not looking at her and she sighed with relief. This was one of the few times when Shindo had forgotten her for an instant and was staring down from the high, richly ornate throne at the crowd milling in the hall below.
The hall was the throne cell of the kingdom and the egg-shaped dome lifted hundreds of feet above the city, its pastel walls glowing softly. The interior of the throne cell was not plain as were the other cells. From the foundation to the very top of the arch, the walls were filigreed with millions of sparkling varicolored jewels. The light caught every variation of color and made the throne cell a vast, sparkling rainbow of wealth. Each jewel shone magnificently in the setting.
Under that dome, a dwarf king beside her, Linda Palmer felt infinitely small and terribly afraid. She hadn't been so afraid since that first horrible night. The night when fear crept upon her subtly and burst into frenzy when strange men entered her room and snatched her away, had carried her to this underworld kingdom.
And today (she didn't know how many days had passed since she first came) she had been released from her prison cell and acclaimed Queen. It had happened abruptly and the ceremony was simple. Her place on the throne and the fine clothing that covered her slim body told the story. She shuddered. The most horrible part was yet to come. She had not yet greeted her King. That greeting would come later, when they were alone.
Something was afoot. Something that sent the men of Ra scurrying from the throne cell, only to return and talk excitedly among themselves. Something that made Shindo lean forward anxiously, staring at the big doors that led to the city beyond the throne cell.
The doors opened slowly and a wide path opened in the wall leaving a passage to the thrones. A strange procession entered. First, a figure well hidden under a strange black robe, his head enclosed in a glass helmet. Two gnomes prodded him forward toward the thrones and a second robed figure followed. Then a third came, and a fourth, each escorted by two gnomes. Linda Palmer didn't see the third man—or the fourth. There was something in the way the second man carried himself. Something about the spring of his walk. They were close now, and she could make out the features of the first. He was a stranger to her.
Then, roughly, the robes were jerked from their heads. Linda Palmer was watching the second man, her eyes wide, hands clutching tightly at the arms of the throne.
A cry escaped her lips as she sprang to her feet.
"Jim—Jim Casey!" She sank back, face drained of blood, realizing that it had been very foolish to betray her emotions. She was aware of the eyes that turned in her direction. King Shindo was staring balefully at her, his little red eyes bright with anger.
"Linda!" Casey's cry was filled with fear and love. To find her alive was wonderful. But—alive in such surroundings? He sprang forward seeing only the girl on the throne, knowing only that he must reach her.
Shindo waved his arm angrily.
THE gesture was all that was necessary. Gnomes swarmed around
Jim Casey, slashing and beating him down with long staffs of
wood. Linda Palmer took three steps toward the edge of the
platform before Shindo, his head hardly reaching her shoulder,
was at her side. His long bony fingers shot around her wrist and
sank into the soft flesh. His voice was low and cruel.
"You forget that you are my property." His chin jutted forward angrily. "A queen does not run from her throne to mix with the slaves. But you will learn this soon."
She felt herself drawn back and dared not fight against him. When she turned to look into the crowd once more a large group had closed in tightly around Jim Casey. He was lying on the floor, arms placed protectively around his head. Tears sprang into the girl's eyes, but she didn't try to go to him again. Perhaps later, she could help him in a worth while manner.
Because the crowd had been excited by the action of their new queen, Shindo was forced to rise from his throne and quiet them with an upraised arm. Shindo was a powerful man. His arms Were brawny, hairy and long, like an ape's. His face, hawk-like in shape, was ugly, with a nose two sizes too large, eyes that cut through you like hot branding irons and a mouth that never smiled. When that mouth opened, which was seldom, there were no teeth in it—only purple gums.
"Take the prisoners to the chamber," Shindo shouted. "I will see them there."
The crowd was leaving, slowly, like a vast wave spreading out from the throne cell across the city to their various tasks. The prisoners were gone.
Linda Palmer looked at Shindo and he scowled back at her. She saw the brooding eyes, the horrible little body and the mouth that showed raw gums.
She shuddered and looked straight ahead again. Five minutes passed. When she took another peep at him, Shindo was gone. A few odd looking creatures moved back and forth through the throne room. A serving girl, gaunt and starving, brought a tray of fruit. Linda couldn't touch them. She had to help Jim somehow. She couldn't leave the throne. There were many eyes watching her. Eyes that would report every move she made.
She had betrayed herself this afternoon by crying out to Jim. She must not do it again, not until she was sure that she could be of some help. Meanwhile Shindo was her greatest problem. She had to avoid him and at the same time, not let him grow too angry at her.
THE chamber was about a hundred feet long, built like the tube
of a subway and lighted from above, where long tubes sent out a
glowing, pulsating light that warmed the entire room. Jim Casey
was perspiring under the heavy-robe. He looked around at the
others. The heavy doors at the end of the room greet locked
tightly. There was no other furniture, with the exception of
benches following the curve of the wall.
Puzzled, Casey sat down. He started to pull the robe up around him, but intense heat struck his shoe, penetrating to his feet. He dropped the robe again, swearing. Although his breath was steaming up the helmet, he was able to recognize Young, Stark and Freedly all dressed as he was. Evidently they had tried to disrobe as he had, and met with the same results.
He sat still, unable to talk with them through the thick glass, thankful that Linda was alive, and dreading what might happen before he could help her.
The doors at the far end of the room opened.
Shindo, the dwarf, stood alone just outside the room. As they watched, Shindo took a deep breath, stepped into the brightly lighted room and the doors clanged behind him.
Casey stood up slowly, his heart beating loudly against his chest.
"What the hell?" he muttered.
Before his eyes Shindo was growing.
"Welcome to Ra."
Casey wondered why he could hear Shindo's voice through the helmet. He had heard Linda easily this afternoon though he was unable to hear a sound from his companions. Probably some sort of radio device.
"You will later be able to communicate with me," Shindo said.
Casey continued to stare at him, wondering if his own eyes were seeing correctly. Shindo had grown a good ten inches since he first came in. The wrinkled face was smooth. The mouth looked less bitter. The unkempt hair was falling smoothly into place, curling against Shindo's neck.
"For the present," Shindo said, "you will be confined here in the Radium chamber; be careful not to remove the robes. You would be destroyed in two minutes. The tubes are powerful."
He was almost six feet tall now, and young in appearance. A smile widened his mouth, for he was obviously enjoying the impression he had made on them. Shindo was young now. Young, handsome and very strong in appearance.
He remained standing, stiffly alert, gazing first at one of them then the other of the small group near him.
"You wonder why you are here," he said. "Ra has existed for centuries, but because some of our science has not reached a successful conclusion and certain mistakes have been made, new blood is needed. No need to go into details now. Suffice to say, you and others like you are to be used for experimental purposes. Should we find that Ra can use you, other people from the surface will be brought here.
"Meanwhile, remain until we are ready for you. Remove the robes only if you wish to die."
Casey held his breath. Experiment? Shindo was apparently a strong, healthy warrior, under the power of the mysterious radium light beams.
Shindo had already turned away. He strode toward the door which opened from the outside. He passed through and waited patiently just outside. Even before the doors were closed, Casey could see the King of Ra start to shrink back into his old form. Down, down, the face growing dark and wrinkled. Then the door slammed and they were alone.
CASEY went toward Young. He stood with his helmet touching
Reese's.
"Can you hear me?" he shouted.
Young nodded. Casey guessed that Young must be shouting also, but the voice that answered was far away, vibrating through the glass.
"We're in a hell of a mess."
Casey nodded.
"I don't think it could be much worse," he agreed.
Casey stared up at the cylindrical tubes that lighted the chamber. He leaned close to Young again.
"Good God, Young," he cried. "That radium burns when it touches you. Yet it cured that dwarf and made him as tall and straight as a God. Ra, Young, Ra. Don't you get it?"
Young shook his head. Through the fogged helmet he looked puzzled.
"Ra is the symbol for Radium," Casey cried. "I've been on the wrong trail all the time. Sometimes the ancients referred to the Sun as Ra. I've been thinking of this place as the city of the Sun. It isn't. There's a fortune in radium in this one room."
He stopped, trying to catch his breath. Young didn't answer.
Casey sat down weakly. Here in a single chamber was enough radium to buy and sell an entire world.
He drew the robe down carefully over his shoes. God knew what might happen if it had a chance to affect his body.
The people of Ra might effectively prevent their escape by locking them in such a room, but thank God that they provided protection from the stuff. For a long time, Casey sat staring at the others. None of them tried to communicate again. There was a helplessness about their present position that defied any thought of escape. Later, perhaps, away from the radium room, they might have a chance. Casey thought of Linda. He knew that with her alive, there was still a chance for Fred Stark's friend. Miss Walker, and for Freedly's baby. He wondered. They had paid every respect to Linda, probably because of her beauty. Would they respect the old woman, Jenny Walker, or the baby?
JENNY WALKER swore softly under her breath. She started for
the twelfth time to find some way of escaping from the room. The
room itself was simply constructed, and the wall had the shape
and evidently the consistency of an egg shell. There, however,
the comparison ended. It appeared a hopeless cause.
She had been here for hours. An old woman thrown into a prison, and left with an infant to care for. Jenny stopped in her careful search of the room and stared across at the baby. Baby Joe was quite content with the whole set-up. He had been well fed, though his stomach was beginning to rebel at the queer, almost blue milk supplied for him. However, the fairies, two rather ugly, but genuine products of fairyland, came in each afternoon and played with baby Joe. Otherwise, he was alone with a nice old lady who didn't look the least bit like mother, and who smiled at him very softly when she sat at his side.
Jenny Walker had a mental picture of every object in the room. She had stared at the long, useless table that occupied the center of the room, the single row of chairs near one wall (they seemed carved out of solid black rock), the cot, without benefit of springs, on which she slept, and a sort of down mattress that smelled like fresh hay. She knew that the makeshift crib for Joe had been cut out of half a barrel, and that the barrel looked like those she had seen stacked behind the hotel at Mammoth.
Jenny Walker sighed. What could she, an old lady, do to make the child safe? Now that the first shock of being snatched from her bed had passed, there remained in her little fear of what would happen to her. The old experience little fear if they have lived a good life. She did worry about the baby, for it was obvious to her that he also had been brought here from her world above.
There wasn't anything she could do for him. She hoped that his mother wasn't too worried, but she knew that if baby Joe were her own child, she would go crazy with fear. All she could do was care for him with love.
KING SHINDO paced slowly up and down near his throne in the
main cell. His-haughty new-found queen had ignored him completely
last night, and the gesture had hurt Shindo very deeply. He would
never force his queen to accept his company and he smiled a
little, wondering what she would say if she saw him after taking
the radium treatment. He was tall and handsome under the Ra
machines. He shrugged, aware of his black ugly face and small
body.
The crowds were gathering in the hall below the thrones. His queen sat on her throne, face very pale, hands clasped. The thrones were covered with jeweled cloth, and Shindo's queen had been gowned fittingly in pure white, covered with tiny blue gems that reflected color for yards in every direction as though exploding bright lights continually shot from her body. Her hair was combed smoothly, without decoration, a natural crown of gold above the white robe.
The voices below the thrones died away and the entire cell waited, as though breaths were being held.
The doors opened opposite the thrones and two gnomes came in. Behind them walked the four men from earth, Young, Casey, Stark and Freedly. Their strange uniforms had been removed. They stayed close to each other, nervous, on guard.
Another door opened and two Ra women entered. One carried a baby boy. Walter Freedly shouted suddenly and tried to force his way forward, fighting to reach the baby.
"Joe—Joe..."
They forced Freedly back. At the same time, Fred Stark saw Jenny Walker. Saw her alive, her figure upright, her lips pressed grimly together. A slow smile lighted his face as he saw the determination about her.
"They can't kill that old warrior," he said to himself.
Freedly was quiet now, and Young whispered to him.
"Take it easy. The baby's safe so far. Maybe we'll have a chance later, if you don't make a fool of yourself."
They all halted near the throne of Shindo and stared up at him. Casey couldn't take his eyes off Linda. He wondered if she really had the power to help them, or if she were but a figurehead, placed here for the pleasure of the ugly little king.
"I intend to be brief," Shindo leaned back on his throne, knees crossed. He didn't blink, and his red eyes stared first at one then the other of those below him. "We did not intend to steal more than a woman, a girl and a child from the surface. We wanted to take a bit of their blood, use some of their brain, and experiment with them until we were sure of how many surface people we would need. However, because six men came to us easily (two of them died before you others arrived), we are accepting your invitation and using you all."
No one dared to speak. Shindo smiled slightly.
"You wonder what nightmare brought you here. Let me tell you that you should feel honored to visit Ra. Ra existed long before the surface people left the trees and discarded their animal skins and flint axes. The people of Ra have grown in history as the fairies of Ireland, the gnomes of fairy tales, the folklore of old, old countries. That is because Ra people wander around on the surface at night, taking what they need and paying no heed to the surface people.
"Now you see that your fairy tales are true. That folklore is no idle tongue-woven gossip."
Shindo paused and looked rather sad. Then he shrugged.
"One thing troubles us greatly. Although we have a city that stretches far beyond your imagination—although we are so rich that riches bore us—although we are far advanced in many ways, living underground as we do, we have gradually lost the fine bodies that were ours when Ra was founded."
Low groans arose from among the people.
"We have been harmed greatly by coming in constant contact with the power of radium."
Jim Casey nudged Young. Young nodded gravely and listened.
"We have produced radium in such great quantities that one hundredth of one per cent of our present supply would make a million of your surface men rich beyond comparison. We were curing, building, heating and ironically enough, destroying with radium while the Curies still fumbled for its secret in France. While your hospitals guard a tiny capsule of it with their lives, our health buildings use it by the pound to produce light, heat and energy."
Shindo spoke in a slow, sincere voice. Though what he was saying was the truth, he had not yet come to the portion of his speech that troubled him greatly.
"Unfortunately, contacting radium as we have, we had overlooked some precautions. Because of this, and because we are confined underground, you see that we are not as straight and handsome as we might be.
"When in direct contact with radium, our bodies respond and become as they once were, tall and straight. When away from it, we resume our not entirely satisfactory pose as your gnomes and goblins.
"It is our thought that by using blood and perhaps other vital portions of the human body, we can use your surface people to build ourselves once more into a clean-cut, handsome race of people."
He stopped and stared at Linda Palmer.
"My queen will be the first to offer her sacrifice, and what an honor it will be when from her body, she is able to give blood and strength to make Shindo a handsome king."
A shiver ran through Linda's body. She turned away, not daring to look at him. Shindo shrugged once more.
"That is all," his voice became hard, brutal. "Confine the prisoners in the cells at the laboratory. Work will start tomorrow."
IT was a queer way to talk, but to the four men confined in
the radium room, it was the only way. They had been returned to
their prison, Casey, Young, Freedly and Stark and were protected
from the radium once more by the gowns and helmets.
Ironically, the very garments meant to protect them, gave them no chance to escape. They could talk only by sitting very close to each other, and relaying each sentence to the last man in the group. Young talked with Jim Casey, his helmet pressed to Casey's.
"They don't seem to have weapons. They rely on their superior numbers to keep us here."
Casey nodded. "And the radium," he said. "Outside of these suits, we'd be destroyed in a second. Still, we can't escape from this room as long as we wear the damned things."
He felt a tug on his arms and turned to see Stark staring at him through the mist of the helmet. He leaned toward Stark and relayed what had been said.
Stark nodded and passed the words on to Freedly. Freedly stood up and paced up and down the room. Casey followed him, and they stood near the end of the cell staring at the crack where the double doors came together. There was nothing to hold, nothing to use to pry them apart. They turned and looked back at the others. Young shook his head and motioned for Casey to return.
"It's no use. The light is as bright as ever. I think we should get some sleep. We may have a chance when they take us out of here."
Casey agreed. No use facing the death ray of the radium tubes. He stretched out on the bench and turned away from the light. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep.
Casey awakened suddenly, feeling that someone was pushing against him. He turned over and saw Fred Stark motioning wildly toward the door. Casey sprang to his feet. The door was open. Beyond it, on the floor, two of Shindo's gnomes lay stretched out full length. Then Casey saw why.
A broken helmet lay beside one of the guards. He turned to Stark and saw that Stark was grinning. Stark had discarded his robe and helmet. His face was already burned and scarred. His hands shook.
"You—you damned fool," Casey choked. He was glad that Stark could hear. Stark cried out and he could just hear the man's voice.
"I'm an old man. Get the others and get out. Save the girl and the baby." He saw tears streaming down Stark's face. "Save Jenny if you can. Tell her I—"
Stark pitched forward on the floor. Young and Freedly were already up. They dragged Stark from the room. Quickly they discarded the robes. One of the gnomes started to groan. Casey brought his helmet down on the creature's head and watched foul, dark blood ooze from the wound. He felt better, free and able to fight back. He turn to see Young arise slowly from Stark's quiet form. Young looked at Casey and shook his head.
"He must have worked on these doors for quite a while. Shindo didn't think we'd dare discard the robes."
Stark was dead. His face was brown and covered with red streaks. His fingers were stiff.
Freedly stood up. He was crying, and he made no gesture to hide his tears.
"He did it for the baby, and for the woman," he said.
Young looked along the corridor. It was deserted. At the far end, there was only darkness.
He took Freedly's arm.
"They can't harm him any more," he said.
Together, the men went along the passageway.
LINDA PALMER awakened sometime after two o'clock in the
morning. She hadn't meant to sleep. Hadn't thought that even in
the great downy bed she could be lulled into false security. She
slipped out of bed and put on the warm, jeweled robe and low
slippers that had been left for her. The room opened onto a wide
balcony and below was the entire world of Ra.
Linda Palmer admitted to herself that this was a magnificent world. A world that displayed riches impossible to attain on the surface of the earth.
The robe was comfortable and she wandered toward the balcony. Near the open door, a vase of flowers occupied the table. The flowers were false, with twigs of wire and blossoms of glued diamonds. She emptied the vase and grasped it by the narrow neck. At least, should she meet anyone on the balcony, she would not be entirely unarmed.
The balcony was deserted. She went to the wide stone rail and leaned over it, staring down into the courtyard.
She could see skinny shadowy little figures, walking back and forth across the wide yard. High walls separated Shindo's palace from Ra. Walls that she at first hoped to escape over. She shuddered. That was before Jim Casey had come. Now she had to help him. Had to do something before morning.
For a long time she watched. About to return to her room, Linda saw a shadow creeping along the wall directly below her. At first she backed away from the rail, afraid something—someone had seen her. Then she noticed a strange thing. It seemed like a tall man. There were no tall men here. She watched carefully, as the man emerged into the half-light of the courtyard. He looked around, then turned and motioned for someone to follow him.
She couldn't mistake that motion.
She held her breath. The man below her was Jim Casey. She wanted to cry out to warn him that guards were all about her. She couldn't. Three other men attached themselves to the shadow and moved slowly toward the gate.
She heard footsteps near her, and turning, saw the dwarf Shindo come toward the rail. He hadn't seen her. She stood very still. Shindo wasn't over ten feet away and he held a long, narrow tube in his hand. Now he had see Jim Casey. He tensed, leaning over the balcony rail. The tube in his hand was aimed.
An animal hatred arose in the girl. Her throat was dry. She held the vase firmly in one hand and moved toward Shindo. The tube clicked in his hand. Linda Palmer screamed her warning and sprang at the same time. A slim, white light burst from the end of the tube and shot downward. She heard Jim Casey's shout of warning, and at once the courtyard was wild with sound.
The vase poised in midair and shot toward Shindo's head. He fell silently and she heard his skull crush against the stone floor.
She didn't know what power the tube had, but she knew it was a weapon. A weapon he had meant to use on the men below.
It clattered to the stones and she scooped it up. Panting with fright she leaned over the balcony once more. Shindo's guards were closing in on the men below. She pointed the tube at them and pressed the button on its side.
Magically the guards melted away from the group of surface men. They cried out as the ray hit them.
"Jim," she cried. She was comforted to hear him call her name. He was alive. "Come up the steps to the right. I'll meet you in the hall. Hurry, while I can still hold them."
She saw them break and run toward the stairs that led to the balcony. More figures came into the yard and she fought them off, sending that killing, burning beam of light in a wide circle, watching them scream and fall. She felt sick inside.
Then suddenly the beam of light was gone and the tube was dead, like a flashlight without batteries. She started to back away, slipped and fell over something. Shindo's body.
She tried to get up but she had twisted a muscle in her ankle and couldn't stand. She threw the tube away from her and started to sob.
Then the darkness of the balcony grew dense and the pain left her. She fainted.
"SHE'S coming around. Better hold your hand over her mouth
until she realizes who it is."
She felt a hand on her lips but was relieved. It wasn't a deformed hand.
The fingers felt straight and warm.
She nodded her head, opening her eyes to stare up at Jim Casey.
"Don't make a sound," he cautioned. "We're in a tight spot."
She nodded again to show that she understood and he removed His hand. She turned to look at the others. They were in her room. Casey had brought two of the other men she had seen with him this afternoon. The third one was missing. She wondered if he had been killed in the courtyard.
"You did a good job on Shindo," Casey said.
She shuddered.
"Dead?"
He nodded and smiled.
"Good riddance," he said briefly. "They are searching the whole palace. The door of this room is locked and for some reason they haven't dared to come in. Maybe because you're the queen. If they do enter your room, they'll find Shindo in your bed."
She quivered again.
"Jim—they'll kill the old lady and the baby if they don't find us."
He pressed her hand.
"I know," he said simply. "Linda, this is Frank Young, a Ranger from the park, and this is Walter Freedly—the baby's father."
Now she understood the look of anguish in Freedly's eyes.
She held out her hand.
"I—I think the baby's all right," she said. "If we can just reach him before."
Reese stood up.
"It's time we tried to do that," he said. "They haven't searched the room yet. I think I have an idea."
Jim Casey said:
"Anything is better than waiting. Let's do something about finding the others."
Shindo lay on the bed, blanket about his chin, looking very small and strangely peaceful.
"I think Shindo can get the baby for us," Young said.
They stared at him.
"Shindo?" Linda said. "But...?"
Young nodded.
"There must be a hundred of them in the courtyard now," he said. "Shindo is going to give them a speech from the balcony."
Freedly went to the balcony. He stared down at the torches that lighted the yard. He came back, deep anger in his voice.
"The courtyard is crowded," he said.
"Good."
Young turned to Casey.
"Help me with Shindo. We'll hold him up between us."
The strange body of the gnome looked shorter than ever between them. They held him upright, letting his legs trail behind him holding him so that his head and shoulders were visible over the wall. Young shouted.
"Here is your king."
A silence settled over the mob below. Queer, frightened faces stared up at them.
"Your king is ill," Young shouted. "He demands that you bring the baby and the old woman here to his room. He wants to speak to them."
Cries came from the crowd. Angry, unbelieving cries. Young turned, seeing Linda in the door, her hand in Freedly's arm.
"It isn't going to work," he said. "You'd better make a run for it."
To his amazement a smile lighted Freedly's face. He moved from Linda and came toward them. Then, a roar of anger broke, seemingly from Shindo's dead lips.
"Fools, can't you understand Shindo's orders? Must I come down and have you flogged."
The voice was so real that Casey almost let go of the body. Young's lips worked in amazement. He knew who had spoken. Freedly hadn't told them he was a ventriloquist.
The voice was like magic. Gnomes turned and started to move away.
"Bring the baby and the woman to this room at once," Shindo said. "I wish to speak to them."
THE huge chamber above the balcony was a strange sight. Young
realizing the importance of showmanship, had arranged Shindo
carefully in bed, eyes open, one arm lying carelessly over his
chest. They all gathered around the bed in a worried little
group. Hardly three minutes had passed since they left the
balcony. Footsteps sounded in the hall and someone knocked on the
door. Young signaled Casey to answer it. Casey took a last look
at Linda, then grinned at Jim Freedly.
"It's up to you now," he said. "Make it a good show."
Freedly's face was grim.
"I will."
Casey reached the door and opened It. Jenny Walker came in first. Her gray eyes searched the room for someone, and if Fred Stark's absence puzzled her she didn't betray it. In her arms, cooing and evidently none the worse for his adventures, was baby Joe Freedly.
Four gnomes walked behind the pair. They were armed with the radium rods and their faces mirrored deep suspicion.
A voice came from the bed. Evidently the voice of Shindo.
"I have asked you to bring the surface people here. Three of them escaped from the radium chamber. The fourth man was killed while trying to accompany them."
A gasp of horror came from Jenny Walker's lips. Her face went white as the blood fled from her cheeks. Her lips tightened. She made no effort to express herself.
Freedly was clever. Never faltering, never moving his lips, he caused the corpse of Shindo to go on speaking.
"Because these surface people have courage, I am determined to let them go free."
One of the gnomes sprang forward. Anger was etched deeply into his wrinkled face.
"But two bodies, the remains of those who came first, have been used in the laboratory. Surely with the promise of success they have given us you will not toss away such valuable material."
Shindo's voice arose in wrath.
"Silence," he shouted.
The gnome backed away. They were all bewildered. What could account for so strange a change in their king?
"The blood of the first surface man has been injected into the men of Ra," the gnome went on timidly. "Already they show signs of growing taller and straighter. We believe that if they remain away from the radium mines, they will look as ordinary surface people do."
"That is not enough," Shindo said. "It would take a surface man for every man of Ra. The slaughter would he great. The result—questionable."
The four gnomes were angry now. They whispered for a moment among themselves. The spokesman addressed the dead king.
"You have never halted at the thought of slaughter before," he said. "You have been a powerful king."
"That is enough," Shindo cried. "I am still leader."
Perhaps the king's body had not been balanced carefully on the bed. Perhaps fate caused his arm to slip suddenly and fall limply to his side. The room was electric with silence. Young, Casey, even Freedly on the far side of the bed, were suddenly tense with fear.
The spokesman for the gnomes sprang forward. His hand touched the king's forehead. It came slowly away. He turned, facing the group of surface people, his eyes narrowed to slits.
"Shindo is dead," he said.
IF Freedly had lost his head then, if he had forgotten the
part he played, they might never have left the room alive.
Instead, he spoke in Shindo's heavy sarcastic voice.
"Cannot a dead king remain the ruler of his people?"
The gnome stood very still, staring first at Young, then back at his companions by the door. He backed toward them, extreme bewilderment mirrored on his face.
"A dead king talks!" he said.
Seemingly the scheme had worked.
Shindo's voice came once more.
"Summon guides and send these surface people to safety."
The gnome turned suddenly.
"It is not true," he screamed. "The king is dead and cannot talk. It is a trick."
He lifted the radium rod and aimed it straight at Freedly's head. At the same instant, Jenny Walker dropped the baby and threw herself directly into the path of the weapon. A white ray of light shot directly into her face. With a groan, she sank to the floor. She didn't move again.
Young was close to the spokesman of the gnomes. He grasped the rod and swung around, spraying the three men at the door. One of them managed to bring his radium rod into action, but before he could aim, Jim Casey was upon him, hitting the thing with his arm. The rod flew through the air. Casey swung hard. The gnome fell cracking his skull against the wall. The other three were already dead, killed by the radium rod in Young's hand.
Casey turned. Linda Palmer was on her knees at Jenny Walker's side. Linda was crying.
"You can't help her now," Reese said. "We've got to get out of here. Freedly, take one of the rods. Linda, carry the baby. We may be able to fight our way through."
They ran down a long hall toward the stairs that led to the courtyard. There were still a few gnomes milling about restlessly below the balcony.
Young stopped at the head of the stairs.
"It's a good hundred yards from the bottom of these stairs to the gate," he said grimly. "Hide the rods in your sleeves. We'll try to walk out of here as though we had permission to do it. If they start anything, run as fast as you can and keep the girl and the baby between us. We're going out."
Half way across the court, Young stopped short. He turned and faced several ugly little men who were closing in slowly.
"King Shindo is dead," he said calmly. "You must go to his chamber at once."
Perhaps it was the shock of what he said. Perhaps these little people were accustomed to receiving and obeying orders. They turned and ran past him toward the stairs. Some of them were moaning aloud. Others moved up the stairs toward the chamber where the body of the king was waiting.
"So far, so good," Young said. He pushed at the huge gate and felt them open outward under the weight of his body.
THE gates were closed behind them.
Two giant rings hung from the outside.
"Casey," Young said, "you try to find something to push through the rings. We've got to lock them in for a short time. We need every second."
Linda watched Jim Casey hurry along the wall toward a pile of metal rods. She held the baby tightly, wondering how they had come so far without being challenged. There was only one explanation. Shindo was a powerful man. Almost a God to these underworld gnomes. The news of his death had been all important at the moment. As soon as they realized what had happened, the entire population of Ra would be on their trail.
Young said, "We need every second."
It seemed to Linda that they needed much more than that. She stood still, staring down the long streets of Ra toward the cliff that led upward to safety. Jim Casey came back carrying a heavy metal bar. He and Young slipped it through the rings on the gate. Now those inside would have to scale the wall to get out. That would save time.
Evidently the city had not been alarmed. The castle gate was half hidden from the street by a solid egg structure that came almost to the walls. Young thought it time to hold a council of war.
"We've got to get to the cliff," he said hurriedly. "They brought us down in some sort of an elevator. We'll have to overpower the guards and go up the same way. It's a long chance. Perhaps some of us should go ahead and clear the way."
He hesitated, looking at Linda with the baby in her arms.
The girl felt color rise to her cheeks. He was suggesting that she wasn't strong enough to face the coming flight.
"We'll stick together," she said firmly.
Walter Freedly took baby Joe from her.
"Good," Young said. "Let's go." They walked quietly out into the street and along it toward the distant cliff. People of Ra were wandering about. The squat, ugly gnomes stopped to stare, yet did nothing to stop them.
The streets were straight and the edges of the walks were lined with jewel-studded rocks that shone and glittered in the sun. Young stayed ahead, his hand clasped around the rod that was hidden in his coat sleeve. Linda came nest and then Freedly holding the baby firmly. Jim Casey walked beside Freedly, trying to look as though he did this sort of thing every day in the week.
They had covered a distance of about six blocks and now a crowd of tiny gnomes were on their trail, probably ugly children spawned by the gnomes of Ra. The commotion around them grew louder. Young, alarmed to see that they had a long distance to go, spoke over his shoulder in a low voice.
"We'll meet someone with some authority pretty soon." He didn't sound very happy about it. "Get ready to fight."
"Save as much of the rod's power as you can," Linda said. "The strength of the radium doesn't last long."
She had hardly spoken when the clear melodious sound of bells came from somewhere behind them. The group stopped to listen.
"They're ringing the castle bells," Young said.
They continued to walk, increasing their speed. The bells went on ringing. The band of urchins behind them stopped. Men appeared on the street, their heads tipped sidewise, listening as the bells tolled on each note different than the last.
"Good God," Casey said. "I think that ringing is some sort of a signal. Watch the crowd. It seems to be getting a message."
It was true. And as they listened, they looked first horror-stricken and then angry.
Young reached a small alley between two buildings.
"We'll have to run for it," he said. "Follow me."
He disappeared down the dark alley and the others followed, breaking into a swift run. They had left the street just in time. A shout of anger came from behind them.
FORTUNATELY, Ra seemed to have a network of narrow alleys that
crisscrossed behind the main streets. Young dived into the first
one that seemed to lead in the direction of the cliff. The others
followed. Linda, now that the worst had come, felt herself
breathing easily and following Young's swift pace with
comparative ease. Freedly was having a harder time of it. The
baby was heavy and she could hear him panting behind her.
They followed a dark straight path that led toward the cliff.
"Keep a look-out behind," Young cried. "If they show themselves, let them have it."
Casey grunted his reply. He was saving his wind.
A blurred mass of tousled heads appeared in an opening ahead of Reese. He yanked the radium rod from his sleeve and pressed the button. The heads disappeared, but they were forced to climb over the half dozen corpses that the rod had left scattered in the alley.
The cliffs were close now. They rose, black and forbidding, from the floor of the cavern. At the end of the alley which they now readied, an open square separated the buildings from the cliff. Against the cliff wall was a small single-doored building. From the top of the house, a series of wire screens traveled up the face of the cliff toward the road above. This was evidently the elevator lift.
Young waited only a minute as they reached the square. Gnomes were gathering there, hundreds of them. Fortunately only the guards of Ra seemed to be armed. However, even without weapons, the mob was a tangle of human flesh through which they must cut their way. Cries of hatred drowned Young's voice. He pointed across the square and lifted his radium rod. Freedly and Casey were at his side, forming a triangle of death.
They started across at a swift run and Linda almost in their center drew her own weapon.
"Keep your fire concentrated, straight ahead of us," Young shouted.
The radium rods tore a gash through the mob. Corpses piled up until Linda knew that she would fall with them if the trip through them lasted much longer. She heard a low growl behind her and turned to see a wicked, muscle-bound little fellow about to dive at her. She turned the rod on him and watched blood spout from the wound in his head and burn to a brown ugly ooze. They went on.
They entered the elevator-control house and Young slammed the door behind him.
An open elevator covered with wire mesh was straight ahead. Young waited until he and the others were inside. Casey was looking for a control mechanism. He found a long lever mounted on the side of the cage. After looking at it a while he saw how it worked.
Young dragged Linda into the cage and slammed, the door. It was like staring out of a cage at a vast horde of monkeys. The Ra people clung to the screen, gibbering and shouting.
Casey grasped the lever and pulled it full around. For an instant the elevator seemed poised and motionless. Then a roar of power surged from somewhere and the car shot upward.
The city of Ra spread out below, looking as peaceful as it had the first time they saw it.
The car zoomed faster and Casey drew the lever back until they were slowing down near the top of the cliff.
"Be ready to fight your way out," Young said.
The warning was unnecessary. The car reached a platform at the top of the cliff and halted. Casey's radium rod flashed a white fire across the smooth top of the cliff and three Ra men screamed and fell to the smooth floor. They were out of the cage now and racing madly along the black glistening road.
Ahead, in the dimness of the cave, they saw the luminous domes of the egg prisons in which they had first been confined.
THEY had outdistanced their pursuers, at least for the
present. With the egg-shaped cells ahead and certain that escape
was near, a new problem presented itself.
"How will we find the entrance into Devil's Kitchen?" Young asked suddenly. "The walls of the cave all look alike. How are we going to get out?"
Jim Casey had been deep in thought since they first started to follow the escape route from Ra. He remembered a Ra girl named Lano who had cared for him when he first came along this trail. Casey had the impression that the women in these cells were a class apart from the population of the valley. That they lived as nurses, perhaps as nuns of a sort, staying by themselves and earning the respect of Shindo's people.
"I have a plan," he said. "It's very apt not to work, and yet—" He paused thoughtfully. "No harm in trying."
They reached the cells and were running among them toward the far end of the cave.
Casey stopped. He stood quietly for a minute, listening. The others waited, wondering.
"Lano," he called suddenly. "Lano—help us. We need you."
The cave echoed and re-echoed with the call. Within the cells all was silent. He wondered if they were still here, the odd ugly healers of men.
"Lano!"
His cry was louder this time, almost pleading. She was their last hope.
"Wait," Young said in a low voice. "Is that you, Lano?"
Casey wheeled around to face a cell near the end of the cave. She was there, shuffling out of the tiny door, hobbling toward him. Lano of the ugly face and crippled body. Her eyes shone eagerly and a twisted smile lighted her face.
Linda Palmer stared first at the woman and then at Jim Casey.
"Jim," she said in an awed voice. "If I ever saw worship in a woman's eyes I see it now."
Casey felt queer about it. Felt as though he was demanding a favor that he could never return. There was more than duty in this. It was as though he were a God, a thing apart, the center of Lano's very existence. She approached timidly and stood near him, staring straight into his eyes.
"You were here before, and you have returned." Her voice was filled with wonder. "You called me?"
He steeled himself against the ugly girl and tried only to think of her gentle voice, her quiet loyalty.
"We have come from Ra," he said. "Now we wish to return to the surface."
She bowed her head.
"I am sorry," she said. "It is Shindo's wish that no surface people return to their homes."
The baby started crying in Freedly's arms. Linda held her breath, wondering how Jim would handle the woman of the cave.
"You are frightened of Shindo," Casey said, and managed a smile. "You do not obey him because of love."
He was only guessing, stalling for time.
"Fear is greater than love," Lano said. "It breeds death to those who show disloyalty to Ra."
Casey moved forward until he was close to her.
"Shindo is dead," he said in a low voice.
THE expression on the girl's face changed abruptly. The
shoulders straightened and her hands sought her flat chest.
"Dead? Shindo is dead?"
Casey nodded.
"The people of Ra are after u," he said. "They will murder us."
Lano remained silent, but a great weight of fear seemed to lift from her body.
"The people of Ra never loved Shindo," she said firmly. "They only obey him. It was Shindo's plan to steal surface people. We would have nothing to do with the surface. We would live here in peace, as we have these many centuries."
It was Jim Casey's chance.
"Then show us how to get out of the cavern," he pleaded. "We will tell no one about Ra. We will never mention it, even among ourselves. I give you my word, Lano."
Lano turned quickly and started to run toward the wall of the cave.
"Follow," she said. "The Ra people must not suspect."
Casey scooped Linda into his arms and Young demanded that Freedly give up the child. They followed the girl to a narrow place in the tunnel. She knelt and pulled a boulder away from a cleft in the floor. On her stomach now, she reached far down into the crevice and pressed a hidden mechanism. The wall thundered in protest and started to split apart.
On the road that led from Ra, many voices were raised in an angry cry. The opening was large enough to crawl through now. Lano arose.
"Quickly," she said. "The trail must be closed when they come."
Young went first, and Freedly followed. Casey put Linda down gently. He stared at Lano. Lano's eyes were on Linda Palmer.
"I—don't know how to thank you," Casey said.
Lano seemed not to hear. She spoke directly to Linda.
"You are his mate?"
Linda blushed.
"I—I am," she said quietly. "I love him very much."
"Then treasure him," Lano said, "for in Ra he would be a God."
She pushed Linda quickly through the hole in the wall.
Casey stood there, wondering what to do next, looking for a last time at the girl who had saved their lives.
"Will you be safe?" he asked.
She nodded.
"The Ra people do not disturb us if we leave them alone," she said. "Hurry or they will suspect me."
Casey turned and followed Linda. She had waited for him in the darkness of Devil's Kitchen. They watched the rock close behind them. Lano and the world of Ra were gone. The world above was a bright world of the future. Then, before he carried the girl up to light and life once more. Jim Casey took her in his arms. It was as simple as that. What they had come through together made words unnecessary.
Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
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