_The Glass Bell Jar_
Keith awoke hours later.
Slowly he became conscious of a cramped, stiff body, of a dull pain
racking his head. He stretched out his limbs--and, suddenly, realized
he could move.
Remembering the paralyzing ray that had struck him down, and half
afraid that his senses were tricking him, he kicked his left leg out.
It moved with its old vigor. He quickly found that his strength had
returned, that he could feel and move. The effect of the ray had worn
off!
With a glow of new hope he rose to his feet and exercised numb
muscles. Looking around, he saw the other men still stretched out on
the floor of their rough-walled, watery prison. He called into his
radiophone mouthpiece:
"Graham! Graham, wake up!" A grotesque figure stirred among its
fellows; turned over. "It's Wells, Graham," Keith continued. "Get up;
you can, now!" And he watched the form of his big first officer
stretch out and finally rise, while stupid, sleepy sounds came to his
radio receiver.
"Why--why; the paralysis is gone!" Graham said at length.
"Yes, but maybe the octopi don't know it. Rouse the other men at once,
and we'll see what we can do."
It was weird, the sight of the lifeless figures of the men stirring to
life in the dim-lit water as Graham shook each one's shoulder. The
radiophones buzzed and clicked with their excited comments and
ejaculations. Keith felt much better. With his men restored to
strength, and clustered in a determined, hard-fighting mass, he saw a
hope of breaking out and regaining the _NX-1_.
He let them exercise as he had for some minutes, then proceeded to a
brisk roll-call. There should be fifteen men and two officers. Rapidly
Graham ran over the names, and each time a voice rang back in
reply--until he came to the cook.
"McKegnie?... Cook McKegnie?"
There was no answer. Wells stared around the group of dim figures and
himself called the name again. But McKegnie was not present. And as
the commander and his men realized it the numbing spell of their
desperate position settled down on them again like a shroud.
Keith shook off the mood. "Well," he muttered, "I guess the devils got
him. Poor McKegnie's seen the wheels go round for the last time....
All right: take command, Graham. I'm going to do a little
reconnoitering."
* * * * *
The round entrance hole was some fifteen feet from him, at the far end
of the cell. Keith advanced cautiously to it, the peculiar light
feeling the water gave him making his steps uncertain. The dim blue
illumination made the details of the corridor outside hazy, shadowy,
but it seemed to be empty. Peering out, Wells could sight no guarding
octopi. He edged closer and stared down to the left. Twenty feet away
the vague light tapered into darker gloom, filled with thick, wavering
shadows; but it was apparently devoid of tentacles. He wondered if
the octopi were unaware that the effects of their ray had worn off,
and peeped cautiously around the edge to the right.
Immediately a long arm whipped out, grasped him around the waist and
flung him twisting and turning back into the chamber. Graham
laboriously made his way to the commander and helped him to his feet.
"Hurt, sir?" he asked anxiously.
"No," Keith gasped. "But that devil--"
He stopped short. The first officer turned and followed his
commander's stare.
The entrance hole of the cell had filled with a monstrous shape. A
huge octopus was resting there, its unblinking eyes coldly surveying
the crew of the _NX-1_. On each of its thick tentacles was a broad
band of polished gold. It was the king, the same creature that had
inspected them from the throne-dais a few hours before. And behind him
in the corridor the men glimpsed another octopus.
Slowly the ruler of the octopi swam into the chamber. Its great eyes
centered icily on Keith Wells, standing at the head of his cowering
men; and its mighty tentacles waved slowly, gracefully, as if the
creature stood in doubt. One of them tentatively reached out and
hovered over their heads, moving uncertainly back and forth. Then,
like a monstrous water snake, the tentacle poised, flicked out and
plucked a man from his comrades.
His shriek of terror rasped in their earphones. "Steady, men!" Keith
cried. "It's hopeless to try and fight them! The monster just wants to
look him over!"
* * * * *
The man--Williams, a petty officer--was dangled by the armpit in
mid-water and made to slowly revolve. The tip of another huge arm
snaked out and for some seconds stroked his body, probing curiously.
He panted with fright, and in their earphones his friends could hear
his every tortured exhalation. Anxiously, Keith watched. Then,
without warning, another tentacle darted up, fastened its tip on the
breast of the captive's sea-suit, and deliberately ripped it open.
The doomed man's last scream rang in their helmets as the water poured
into his suit. They saw him writhe and struggle desperately in the
remorseless grip which held him. The two huge eyes of the cuttlefish
surveyed his death throes minutely; watched his agonized struggles
gradually weaken; watched his legs and arms relax, his head sink
lower.... And then the tentacle let a lifeless body float to the
floor.
Jennerby, a huge engineer, went completely mad. "I'll get him, the
devil!" he yelled, and before Keith could command him to stay back,
had flung himself onto the giant king.
Death came as a mere matter of course. Without apparent effort, the
monarch ripped off Jennerby's helmet and sent him spinning back. The
man's body writhed and shuddered, and in a moment another stark white
face showed where death had struck....
Trembling, sick at heart, the commander yet had to think of his men.
"For God's sake," he cautioned them, "keep back. Don't try to fight
now; we've got to wait our chance! Steady. Steady...."
The king's deliberate tentacle again began its slow weaving. It was
choosing another victim. And this time it darted straight out at Keith
Wells and gripped him with a mighty clutch about the waist.
The commander did not cry out. As he was brought close to the staring
eyes, and felt their sinister gaze run over him, it flashed through
him for some obscure reason that the monster knew him for what he was,
the leader, from the tiny bars on each shoulder of his sea-suit.... He
waited for the tentacles to rip it open.
But they did not. Instead, the creature turned and swiftly swam with
him out through the entrance hole.
* * * * *
They went to the left in the corridor, further into the heart of the
building. The bluish light became stronger. As Keith twisted in the
giant monarch's grip he glimpsed the other octopus following with the
two dead men. He saved his strength knowing it was hopeless just then
to try and struggle free.
Quick as was his passage, he noticed that the walls of the corridor
were covered with intricate designs, in bas-relief, and colored. He
passed row after row of mural paintings of octopi in various
activities, and guessed that they represented the race's history. One
was obviously a scene of battle, with a tentacled army locked in
combat with another strange horde of fishlike creatures; a second
showed the construction of the queer mound-buildings on the sea-floor,
with scores of monsters hauling great chunks of material into place,
and another pictured the huge audience chamber, with a gold-banded
king motionless on his throne.
As the king drew him rapidly along, he had a glimpse through a
circular doorway of a large room, inside which were clustered the
black shapes of thousands of baby octopi, tended by what were
evidently nurses. Other such rooms were passed, and the young
commander's brain whirled as he tried to measure the size and progress
of this undersea civilization. Perhaps the race of octopi was growing,
reaching out; needed new room to colonize. That would explain why
their submarine had been sent through the tunnel....
A voice sounded in his ears:
"Keith? Are you all right?" It was Graham, calling from the cell
behind.
"So far," Wells assured him. "I'll keep in touch, and let you know
what happens."
At that moment, his captor carried him into a large chamber at the end
of the corridor. He looked around, and decided it was a laboratory. He
beheld strange instruments, anatomical charts of octopi on the walls
and, in one corner, a small jar of glass, in which a dull flame was
burning. Many-shaped keen-bladed knives lay on various low tables, and
thin, wicked-looking prongs and pincers.
"I'm in their experimental laboratory, Graham," Wells spoke into the
mouthpiece of his tiny radio. And then his roving eyes saw something
that made him audibly gasp.
"What's the matter, Keith?" came the first officer's anxious voice.
After a moment the commander answered. "It's--it's a pile of human
bodies. The bodies of those fishermen. They--they've been
experimenting on them...."
* * * * *
Was he, too, Wells wondered, to be experimented on? The sight of that
stacked pile of bodies chilled him with horror. He kept his eyes from
them, till the octopus with the golden bands swung him through a
hinged door in the farther wall.
He found himself in a side room, smaller than the outer chamber, the
whole center of which was occupied by a huge glass bell jar, some
thirty feet in diameter. Inside it was much strange-looking apparatus
on tables, and trays of operating instruments--knives like those in
the outer room, and the same thin prongs. The great jar was empty of
water, and on one side was an entrance port.
The king tossed Keith into a corner and quickly donned a metal-scaled
water-suit. When he had it all on, and the glass body-container
fastened into place, he picked up his captive again and advanced
through the bell jar's entrance port into a small water chamber. A
moment later Wells felt his body grow heavy as the water of the
compartment ran out, and then there was a click and he found himself
inside the jar, still held in the merciless grip of a tentacle.
He twisted around to find the cold eyes of the octopus staring at him
only a foot away. And as he wondered what was going to happen next,
the king unfastened the glass face-shield of the commander's sea-suit
with a quick flip of the tip of a tentacle.
Keith's arms were pinned to his sides; he could not move to try to
refasten the face-shield. Fearful, he held his breath; held it until
his face was purple and his lungs were near to bursting. But at last
the limit was reached, and with a great wrench he sucked in a full
breath.
It was clean, fresh air!
* * * * *
The air was like a breath of his own world brought down to this cold
realm of octopi. Once he had caught up with his breathing it poured
new life into his limbs, jaded from the artificial air of the
sea-suit. Keith felt his muscles respond, felt his whole body glow
with new strength and life. Twelve inches away the king was watching
his every reaction closely through the huge helmet of glass. The
thought passed through the commander's mind that he was not only king,
but chief scientist of this strange water civilization.
Then, while his lungs swallowed hungrily the good, fresh air, several
tentacles began to feel around him in an attempt to unfasten the rest
of his sea-suit.
Wells blanched at the sudden realization of how helpless he would be
if the suit were taken from him. He would then not only be a prisoner
of the octopi, but a prisoner of the glass jar, unable ever to leave
it, and more than ever at the mercy of his captor's least whim. Not
that he had any delusion that he would live long in any case: it was
just the simple strong instinct of self-preservation that made him
grab at every chance for life.
This thought flashed through his mind, even while the octopus was
fumbling with the catches of his suit. And along with it was born a
desperate plan of escape. He was in his own element, air; the octopus
out of his. If he could crack the glass of the king's helmet, and let
the water out and air in!... The glass was only twelve inches away.
The commander stopped his resistance, and at the same time felt about
with his legs until he had them well braced against a lower tentacle.
He pushed gently, and came a few inches nearer the glass; a little
more. Then, with a quick, strong jerk of his body he crashed the steel
frame of his helmet square against the cuttlefish's sheathing of
glass.
The creature was taken wholly by surprise. Tentacles whipped out to
tear the rash human quickly away--but not before Keith had pounded
again, and heard the splinter of smashed glass! He had jabbed a hole
in the glass body-piece, and already the life-giving water was pouring
out!
Panic seized the king, and he became a nightmare of tortured
tentacles. Wells was flung wildly away and fetched up against the side
of the jar with a crash that for a second stunned him. More and more
water poured from the octopus' suit, and air at once rushed in to take
its place. The creature's great eyes became filmy, while the revolting
spidery body slewed here and there across the jar, all the time
whipping and thrashing at the strangling air. Keith scurried from side
to side, trying to keep out of reach of the crazy, writhing tentacles.
Once a glancing blow knocked him flat, but the monster was altogether
unconscious of him and he got away.
Little by little the terrific whipping and coiling of the tentacles
quieted down. The drowning king lay in one place now; its loathsome
red body, no longer protected by glass, turned bluish. Keith thrilled
with elation at his victory.
And then, for the first time, he noticed that there was a full three
inches of water on the floor--far too much to spill from the king's
suit. A quick look around showed him where it came from. There was a
long crack in the side of the glass jar, at the place where he had
been crashed against it--and water was pouring in!
Keith flung himself against the crack, jammed his arm into the
broadest part of the leak. But still the water rushed in. The octopus
was in its death throes, weakening steadily--but just as steadily the
water poured in and rose up the sides of its body. In a flash Wells
saw that the liquid would win the race to cover it and allow the
monster to resume breathing.
"Oh, damn it!" he cursed fervently. "Now I've got to run for it!"
* * * * *
He stumbled to the port, snapping shut his face-shield as he went. In
a moment he had solved the working of the mechanism and was in the
water chamber, then outside in the room itself. Fortunately his
sea-suit was unhurt. He thanked heaven for that as he tore away a
boardlike piece of apparatus and jammed it over the leak in the jar.
Keith paused a moment to plan. The king of the octopi was still
writhing in ever weakening struggles, but the water was halfway up his
body. "It'll cover him soon," thought the commander, "and then it's a
question how long it'll take him to come to. I've got to move
fast--slip out into the corridor and run the gauntlet back to the
men." His eyes rested on a large knife, and he appropriated it, since
he saw nothing else he might use.
For the first time since the beginning of the fight he answered the
questions and exclamations that had constantly sounded in his ears
from the distant crew. Tersely he told them what had happened, and of
the gauntlet he had to run.
"Make ready for a dash to the _NX-1_," he finished. "It's now or
never. Wait three minutes for me, and if I don't make it, go ahead
anyway. Remember--three minutes. This is an order. So long, fellows!"
He shut his ears to the bedlam of comment that followed. His knife
ready, he took a few steps to the door and pushed out--right into the
tentacles of a waiting octopus.
* * * * *
His knife was useless. While locked motionless by three arms of his
captor, another streaked out and wrenched it from his hand. Once again
Keith was absolutely helpless.
Great confusion resulted in the laboratory. The commander heard no
sound, but the guard must have called, for five more octopi darted
rapidly out of an adjoining room. Their tentacles writhing in great
excitement, they swam past and into the inner chamber to the rescue of
their nearly drowned king.
The devil-fish that held Wells almost crushed him to death in its
excitement. It was obviously undecided what to do; but finally it sped
him down the passageway and cast him back inside the cell with his
men. Then it quickly retreated.
The commander staggered to his feet and faced Graham and the others.
"A miracle!" he gasped; "I'll tell you later. But now we've got to
make our break. The king's out, and we've got to get away before they
bring him to. There's nothing to do but rush the door. It means sure
death for half of us, and probably for all--but God help us if the
king catches us!"
He paused and surveyed them keenly. "Everybody with me?" he asked. And
not one man held back his answer.
Wells smiled a little. "Good!" he said.
* * * * *
There were twelve men and two officers. There were thousands of
octopi. On the face of it, their chances seemed hopeless. Not for a
second did Keith count on getting many men to the _NX-1._ But he knew
where the submarine was, and he had to try.
Tersely he gave them final instructions.
"This corridor leads to the main entrance. That is, to the
right--understand? Then straight down the street outside, to the left,
is the square where they towed the _NX-1._ I'd say it was a hundred
yards.
"There's one guard outside. Graham, you and half the men to the right
of the door. I'll take the rest to the left. Our only chance is to try
and destroy the octopus' eyes."
His mind cast about desperately for some form of weapon. The only
detachable thing on their sea-suits was the small helmet-light, a
thing, Keith told himself, without possible offensive use. Still, the
beams would enable them to more clearly see their path and keep
together, so he ordered them in hand.
The men were grouped and alert. The moment had come.
"Remember," he said, "--its eyes. Then stick together and run like
hell. All right--good luck--and let's go!"
Awkwardly, stumbling clumsily in the retarding water, the small group
surged through the door. Immediately a black shape pounced upon them
from the clustered shadows--the guarding octopus.
Its tentacles seemed to be everywhere. In seconds five men were
clutched in its awful grip, their fists rising and falling impotently
as the hideous arms constricted and crushed them inward. Keith, free
of the clasp, yelled: "The eyes! The eyes! Put out its eyes!"
* * * * *
For answer, a yellow arm clutching a helmet-light broke through the
grotesquely milling mass and struck at the cuttlefish's great pools of
eyes. It missed, but the switch flicked on, and there stabbed through
the gloom a broad, glaringly white ray.
Its effect was astounding. The beam smote the octopus squarely in its
huge eyes, and immediately the creature shuddered; writhed with pain.
The tentacles released the men--and the monster fled back into the
protecting shadows!
A shout from the men roared in the commander's earphones. "They can't
stand the light!" he cried. "Thank God! Beams on, everyone! Flash 'em
in their eyes! Forward!"
Fourteen shafts of eye-dazzling light forked through the corridor.
The tiny company, beating their path with criss-crossing shafts of
white, forged ahead. They thrashed the shadows with their beams,
probing each inch of water--clearing their way even as a tank hoses
machine-gun bullets before its clumsy body. Their former slender
chance grew; they filled with hope.
Another swarm of devil-fish, long arms whipping before them, raced
from branching corridors and bore down on the company of humans. The
men were ready, and fourteen tongues of white met them squarely. They
faltered; the weight of their fellows behind shoved them on; but the
rays steadied, and the front row of octopi broke in panic. The others
at once followed in wild retreat.
"Keep together, men!" Keith ordered sharply. "One beam to each
octopus--straight in its eyes till it retreats! Forward!"
* * * * *
They pressed on. The octopi, with eyes used only to the soft blue glow
of the cavern, could not stand against the brilliant rays. Keith
leading, the _NX-1's_ crew stumbled out into the street.
They faltered a moment when they saw each entrance hole of the
mound-buildings shooting out streams of octopi. Hundreds were in sight
already. The whole city was evidently alarmed. Wells at once formed
his men in a circle, so their beams would guard them on every side and
above. Apparently the octopi could not approach within thirty feet of
them, and even at that distance they turned and fled, writhing with
pain, whenever a shaft of light struck full in their eyes.
"The square's just ahead!" the commander roared. "One last rush, now,
and we'll reach the submarine! Stick close; keep your arms locked; and
watch out above!"
The circle of men narrowed. The rays gave their tiny cluster the
appearance of a monster even more fantastic than those moiling around
them--a monster with long straight tentacles of glaring white. They
stumbled forward through the magically parting ranks of black octopi.
The beams kept the creatures back; they were helpless before them.
Foot by foot under the inverted bowl of threshing tentacles the
_NX-1's_ crew lumbered ahead. The street at last ceased; the wide
square opened before them.
"We're here!" Wells yelled exultantly. "This is the--"
His voice fell into abrupt silence. He stared around the square, and
his heart went cold indeed. They had reached the right place, but it
was empty.
The _NX-1_ was not there!