Prisoners' Progress
Lethemaz, the paralyzing drug of the Saturnians, had one quality for
which Gates was sometimes thankful, and which sometimes he bitterly
cursed. Despite the total incapacity of his body, his brain, as we have
seen, was able to work with new keenness and clarity. Yet his increased
mental awareness only added to his agony. For it made him see the
horror, the helplessness of his plight in even more pitiful sharpness.
Eleanor had been right in supposing that his eyes had glowed with
recognition as he dangled in air above her. She had been right in
believing that he had glared at the sight of Dunbar. But she could
not have known what torment seethed behind that rigid brow of his.
She could not have known the tantalizing madness of one who, hour
after hour, realizes that he is being used as a tool for the furies
of destruction, yet is powerless to speak or act. Nor could she have
guessed what dire new discoveries the captive had made.
From time to time Gates was carried back to the Crystal Planetoid,
where a sting from one of the monsters' tails applied a deparalyzing
fluid. Thus he found occasional relief--which, however, was not to be
credited to any feeling of mercy on the part of the captors. No! for he
could not be fed while paralyzed. And thanks to the way in which he was
jolted around, he had to be given food every few days if he was not to
perish.
As yet, it was not only the purpose of the invaders to keep him alive,
but to obtain as many living humans as possible. Dozens of men and
women, as he saw to his dismay, had been brought to the Planetoid and
paralyzed. Like flies tangled in the webs of gigantic spiders, the
victims lay scattered about the webs. And Gates realized that he was,
in a sense, responsible. Yes, he had been the unwilling tool to trap
them; it was as a bait that he had been dangled above the earth ...
so that, when the people congregated beneath, the Saturnians might
take their pick and whisk the victims away while the crowd was too
preoccupied to be aware what had happened.
But why did they desire so many humans? Gates had the boldness to put
this question to Red-Hood during one of his de-paralyzed intervals;
and, to his surprise, the monster immediately rasped out an answer:
"Nignig, surely you have not the brains of a gnat, else you would have
guessed! We capture you earthlings so as to dangle you above the earth
as a lure to capture other earthlings!"
"And why capture other earthlings?"
"Why?" The giant's red eyes twinkled with amusement, as at a child who
persists in asking the ridiculous. "Naturally, we want specimens of
all the human fauna, of every race and color, so that we may skin and
dry them in the interest of science, and bring them back to Saturn as
specimens for the Museum of Unnatural History."
Noting the horror with which Gates greeted this explanation, Red-Hood
went on to state,
"After all, Nignig, you should be grateful to us for seeking to
preserve some trace of your species, instead of obliterating it
entirely. You earth-creatures have no sense of gratitude!"
Thanks to this information, Gates' mind was more busy than ever with
the problem of circumventing the Saturnians. His first thought was to
destroy his own value to them by means of a hunger strike. But the
result was that his food, in liquid form, was forced down his throat;
while the Saturnians, apparently fearing that he would resort to other
means to take his own life, vigilantly followed his every movement.
Nevertheless, after a time, an idea did come to him--an idea that at
first appeared wild and impossible, and yet seemed to offer the only
prospect, however remote, of regaining his freedom.
* * * * *
But before he could try out the scheme, matters on earth went from bad
to worse.[1]
[Footnote 1: Daily the unexplained thickening of the atmosphere was
growing more noticeable. Daily the air was becoming heavier, more
sluggish, more humid, and hotter. Thunder storms of greater violence
than ever had become of daily occurrence in widely scattered sections
of the earth. Droughts in some regions, and floods in others, had
scarred the surface of the planet. Temperatures running well into the
hundreds were now common in districts where eighty had been considered
hot. Some sections, indeed, had become uninhabitable.
By the first of August, the deaths ascribed to the heat in the great
cities of the eastern United States had risen to a daily average of
scores of thousands. Mass migrations were in progress from tropical and
sub-tropical regions--by every obtainable device, by liner, freighter
and tugboat, by private car, truck and airplane, the inhabitants of
South and Central America were streaming toward the temperate and polar
regions. In India, scores of millions were flocking into the Himalayas;
in Africa, the population was perishing like ants, and no count of
the mortality was even attempted; in the South Seas the customary
trade winds did not blow, and the waters became too warm for bathing.
For the first time in history the Antarctic Continent, its glaciers
beginning to melt, offered promise of becoming habitable; while men of
daring laid plans to establish winter homes in Labrador and Greenland.
Meanwhile vast once-verdant sections of America, Asia and Europe had
been seared to a leafless brown.--Ed.]
To say that the world was frantic would be to understate. Who of us
that lived through those cataclysmic days will ever forget how men
walked the streets with white, harried faces, their beards untended,
their clothes in soiled disarray? Who will ever forget the sense of
being at a world's end? Who will not shudder again as he recalls the
appeals made to scientists by government officials--the desperate
appeals headlined in the papers and blared through the radio: "As you
value your lives, find the cause of the disturbance! Find the cause of
this monstrous distortion of nature! Give us a remedy! Give us a remedy
soon, soon--or it will be too late!"
But scientists labored hard and long--labored fifteen or eighteen hours
a day, and found no remedy. Some, in fact, maintained that no remedy
was possible. Who that is now of middle age cannot re-live the day when
Dr. Arnold Woodrum, of the Cyclops Observatory, let it be known in an
interview that he believed the Solar System to be passing through a
region of space crossed by radio-active forces, which would gradually
raise the temperature until all life was burned to a crisp? In the
absence of any more definite knowledge, this view was widely accepted.
And prayers and lamentations became universal.
It is a never-to-be-forgiven crime that the one man who, in these
circumstances, could have poured out valuable information, was a man
who kept his lips tight-shut.
* * * * *
In a private laboratory improvised in his apartment, Philip Dunbar
was hard at work. Motors buzzed about him; tubes and wires were woven
intricately across the room; while dark hissing vapors and spouts
of steam issued from numerous valves and retorts. Piled deep in one
corner, were dozens of great torpedo-shaped steel tubes, some of them
sealed, some of them ending in complicated coils of rubber tubing; and
it was to these that the worker gave his chief attention.
After several hours, Dunbar paused; sighed; mopped his sweaty brow;
turned a switch that sent the motors groaning to a halt; and, after
unlocking the door, stepped into an adjoining room.
There he was confronted by a girl who, her hands joined behind her back
and her teeth biting into her lower lip, had been pacing slowly back
and forth.
She cast him a scornful glance, and continued ranging the floor.
"Listen, Eleanor!" he said. "You don't have to carry on like this.
Don't act like a prisoner. Make yourself at home. In that case in the
foyer, you'll find some mighty interesting books--"
There was fury in her manner as she turned upon him. "Well, what am I
but a prisoner? Do you want me to bow down and thank you for keeping me
locked here these last seven days?"
His tone was quiet, restrained, almost reproachful.
"But what do you expect, Eleanor? Surely, you understand the
circumstances--"
Her blue eyes blazed. He had never before noticed how strong was the
curve of her chin, how firm the set of her jaw. "Circumstances?" she
derided. "All that I understand is that you drugged me--kidnapped
me--brought me here forcibly, with the help of that hireling of yours,
the taxi driver--"
"I've heard all about that before," he broke in, still without losing
control of himself. "I know I've behaved rudely, Eleanor. But, after
all, why not give me credit for some things? Haven't I treated you
decently here? Have I so much as touched you with one finger, even
though all the while I've been burning with love?"
She shuddered, and recoiled.
"Why do you act as if I were dirt beneath your feet?" he rushed on.
"Haven't I done everything to make you comfortable? Haven't I fed you
properly? My God, Eleanor! don't you know I love you?"
He had pressed toward her, his eyes hot and desirous, while she had
backed into the remotest corner of the room.
"And you expect _me_ to love a traitor?" she shot at him. "Am I to
sit by and adore you for playing Quisling to the whole Earth?"
"That isn't fair, Eleanor!" he protested. "Why, most girls would feel
indebted to me for life for saving them. You will too, never fear!
You're just a little hysterical now, that's the trouble. But come,
come, a little kiss is what you need to soothe you!"
* * * * *
She saw the black-moustached face drawing closer. She saw the black
eyes sparkling with predatory glee. She knew that in an instant the
long twining fingers would be feeling their way about her. And she
realized the futility, the folly of calling out for help. Nevertheless,
a scream was upon her lips.
Then, when already she could feel his breath, hot and fetid as that of
some beast of prey, relief came from an unexpected quarter.
A sharp sudden rattling and snapping sounded from the direction of the
laboratory. And through the open door she could see how, miraculously,
the laboratory window flew open as if in a violent gale, although not
the slightest breeze was blowing.
Dunbar, hearing the noise, wheeled about, and gasped.
"By Christopher, how'd that happen?"
Then solemnly, after a moment, he added, "Why, I could swear I locked
that window this morning!"
As if in answer, several thick steel rods on the laboratory table began
to dance back and forth like dry leaves in the wind.
"Holy Jerusalem!" he ejaculated, backing away. "Am I going crazy?"
"No, nignig, you are no crazier than ever!" returned a rasping voice,
seemingly from nowhere. "But we have been paying you a visit of
inspection."
The two hearers stood with wide-open mouths, speechless.
"I am Quimboson, the servant of the Peerless Red One," went on the
invisible. "I am perched outside your window now, on a web you cannot
see. Finding the window closed, I pulled it open. One of my hands is in
the room, shuffling these little objects on the table. I can reach in
wherever I wish. Shall I prove it?"
Feeling the sudden pressure of a clammy paw against his brow, Dunbar
was quite convinced.
Now all at once the tone of the invisible became harsher, more menacing.
"Earthling," he growled, "I am much displeased! The tail of the
Peerless Red One will lash out in wrath when he hears my report. For
instead of attending to your duties, we find you in dalliance with the
female of your species!"
"But only for a moment!" pleaded Dunbar, in a cowed manner.
"A moment too much! I always thought it was a mistake to spare the
female. When I tell the Peerless Red One, he will order her to be stung
to death! Stung to death instantly! So I shall recommend, O earthling,
and the Peerless Red One always takes my advice on these minor matters!"
Eleanor's gasp of horror was drowned out by Dunbar's appeal.
"But you've got to spare her, O Quimboson! Otherwise, how can I do my
best work? On my oath! I shall waste no more time with her--"
"Your oath, O earthling, is as a sword of sand! But no more of this
empty talk! I go now--I go!"
There came a whirring and a screeching, sounding oddly like mocking
laughter; then the laboratory window banged to a close, and all became
silent.
* * * * *
It was several minutes before Eleanor, her face white, turned to
Dunbar. "For God's sake, don't you see--don't you see, you _must_
let me go! They'll be back here--they'll be back soon, and strike me
dead--"
But Dunbar had returned to the laboratory, where he had switched on the
motors.
"If I do let you go, they'll strike _me_ dead!" he snapped back.
"Lord! Haven't you gotten me into trouble enough already?"
So speaking, he slammed the door with a violent jerk.
* * * * *
Eleanor, sinking into a chair, her head buried in her hands, was driven
more sharply than ever against the same dreary problem that had baffled
her during all these days of her captivity.
How to escape?
The single door to the apartment was locked and securely barred. The
single accessible window gave upon a concrete court four stories
beneath--and, lest she be tempted to leap out, her approach was impeded
by a barbed wire barricade. Telephone connections had been cut--and
there was no neighbor to whom she could call through the sound-proof
walls. No! she was utterly balked!
Still, what matter that she might die a little ahead of the mass of
mankind? After all, that was of no importance--but what might be vital
was her chance to warn others of Dunbar's crime against humanity, if
only she could escape! True, she had already tried to give warning, and
had merely been laughed at; yet she had lately conceived a new idea,
which might offer a dim hope if once she were free.
Half swooning with the heat, she heard through the laboratory door the
whirring of motors; and her head ached dully, and she burst into tears,
for the dead have as much chance of rising as she had of beating down
the monstrous forces ranged against her.