"What am I, then--a ghost?"
"Nothing of the sort. You're old Pete Grahame, a darned good half-back,
and the world's rottenest scientist. Only you've been passed into
another form of being, through the action of four little quartz bulbs
whose periods of vibrations form a beat--but that's over your head,
Pete, old son, and we'll have time to talk over details when we get
back. Right now, we're in somewhat of a jam." Instinctively, he glanced
at Hope; it was her danger, and not his own, that had brought that
haggard pallor to his face in so short a time.
"That's what I don't understand. What do these people--if you can call
them that--want of us?"
Vic looked down, frowning.
"I'm not sure I'm right," he replied after a moment, "but if I am--they
wish us to kill them. As many as possible.
"When I found myself here, I wandered nearly to the city before I was
molested. When they did appear, and tried to lay hands on me, I warned
them back, and finally shot one of them.
"The effect was magical. They seemed unable to believe the evidence of
their eyes. They rushed me eagerly, each seeming to beg for a bullet.
"I gave them what they wanted, still hoping I could frighten them away.
A great crowd formed around me, and the rabble was sent flying by a
number of the men who seem to hold some office, distinguished by a
jewel-like emblem around their throats. If I read their actions
correctly, they claimed the privilege of death by virtue of their
greater authority.
* * * * *
"Well, I finally decided that my gun did anything but frighten them.
They were angry when I refused to do any more slaughtering, and led me
here. Every once in a while one of the captains would come in and
command me to kill him. I refused, for that's the only trump card I
held.
"When Hope, here, acted like the foolish little kid she is, she was not
even armed, and they rushed her here without delay. My theory is that
these people live in a dreary world in which there is no pleasure. Their
faces seem to show that. Apparently they live a very long time, and have
no means of shortening that life. They are not intelligent. Things that
would kill a man of our own world have no effect on them, for remember
that they are not physical beings. You have seen them appear out of thin
air, and dissolve in the same fashion?"
"Yes."
"That is simply their mode of transportation. They pass invisibly
through the air, just as electricity passes through a wire; quickly,
invisibly, silently. Then they assume their original form where they
will--just, again, as electricity passes from the end of the wire
exactly the same as it entered it, allowing only for voltage drops and
some other factors that aren't pertinent here.
"What we must do, and right now, is to settle upon some means of getting
to the proper spot at the proper time. You marked the moment of your
departure, I suppose?"
"Exactly." I glanced down at my wrist watch, and noted with relief that
it was still running. I observed then, for the first time, that the
watch, my clothing, and even my hand, were not real; they were like the
rest of the things in this monstrous state that Vic called Infra-Media.
"I left at three after ten. It's now fourteen minutes of eleven--Good
Lord! Less than an hour since I stood there in your laboratory!"
"Then our next chance to get back will be at three minutes after one,"
nodded Vic. "I wonder if there is any chance of--"
* * * * *
Before he could complete the sentence the door was flung open, and five
of the older men, led by a sixth with a larger jewel at his throat,
filed solemnly into the room and motioned that we were to leave.
At the doorway, a double file of creatures closed in about us, and we
were led, by long corridors and mighty winding ramps, toward the top of
the building.
"Now what?" I whispered to Vic.
"I don't know. That chap with the big stone at his throat seems to be
the head man of the city. I think his name is Ee-pay; the others seem to
call him that. Maybe it's just a title. But what they're up to now, I
can't even guess. Keep your eyes open for a chance to get away, though.
How are you feeling, Hope?"
"All excited!" She tried to smile, and almost succeeded. Hope was game
all the way through. "What an adventure this will be to talk about when
we're old and rheumatic!"
"Good kid!" said Vic, and I pressed her hand as comfortably as I could.
We turned a bend in the long ramp we had been climbing, and came out
upon the vast, level top of the building.
Thousands of the unreal creatures of this world were crowded around a
vast, hideous image that rose from the center of the space; a monster so
terrible that Hope cried out at the sight, and Vic exclaimed under his
breath.
For myself, I seemed stricken dumb; I could only stare at this black and
ghastly god of these people.
* * * * *
The carven image was perhaps thirty feet in height, and represented a
figure crouched upon its knees, its head bent very low and at the same
time tilted at a grotesque angle so that the face smiled heavenward; the
hands, palms upward, extended invitingly just below the chin.
As our party appeared, an aisle opened, and we were marched through the
assembled crowd, directly toward the idol. A high-pitched, sibilant
chant arose from the multitude, and a procession of very ancient beings,
whom I took to be the priests of this god, came in single file from
behind the black god, directing the chanting with movements of their
arms. They were lighter in color than the others, and much more
intelligent, to judge by their faces. Their eyes held none of the
sadness which was the most marked characteristic of the others. Each
wore upon his forehead a gleaming scarlet stone, bound in place by a
circlet of black metal, or what looked like metal.
We paused, and the chanting went on and on, until I began to wonder if
anything would ever happen. And then, at last the chanting ceased, and
three of the priests moved toward us, followed by an elderly being who
wore the same symbol of power or authority that I had already noted upon
the creature Vic called Ee-pay.
One of the priests spoke sharply, commandingly, to Ee-pay, and the
latter nodded--not agreeably it seemed to me.
"The old boy doesn't like these other chaps; priests, I take it,"
whispered Vic. "I think they've been messing up his plans. See; he's
motioning us to watch."
* * * * *
The priests led the old man back to the idol. Eagerly, he clambered upon
the outstretched hands, and stood there facing the grinning face,
stroking the polished cheeks with beseeching fingers. The priests sank
to the floor, bending themselves in mockery of the image. Four times
they touched their foreheads to the ground, and as the fourth gesture
was completed something moved swiftly behind the lips of the image, as
though a plate had lifted for a moment and dropped again.
There was a sharp, murmuring sound, as of a harp-string softly plucked.
A scarlet haze of light shot forth from the mouth of the black god, and
the old man stepped back sharply as though struck by some invisible
agent. He would have fallen, but as he crumpled, his body seemed to
soften and shatter into a scintillating cloud. An instant later there
was no trace of him anywhere.
"Hm-m! The great reward for some notable service rendered, I imagine,"
whispered Vic. "Those priests are wiser than the rest of this crew. They
deal death sparingly, and that makes them great. They love life like a
man of our earth; perhaps because they've found out how to enjoy it."
"But what does the work; what killed him?" I asked breathlessly.
"Can't say, Pete. You can't name things here in terms of our own world.
Some natural force they've corraled, I imagine. They control it with
that shutter behind the lips of the image. Did you notice it?"
"Yes. I suppose one of the priests operates it from some hidden room.
Whatever it is, it certainly does the work. And what do you suppose they
want us to do now?"
* * * * *
The three priests were coming toward us, smiling. I didn't like their
smiles; they were meant to be benign, but there was a cruel and
vindictive twist to their lips which chilled me through and through.
"Keep your hand on your gun," said Vic swiftly. "I don't like the looks
of these chaps."
The priests stopped before us and their leader began a long harangue in
a screechy voice which set my nerves on edge. When he had finished he
held out his hands toward me, and motioned toward the waiting idol.
Ee-pay spoke up in sharp protest, and thrust himself between me and the
priest. For a moment, due to this obviously unexpected interruption,
everything was in confusion.
"Pete!" Vic was whispering excitedly in my ear. "Listen, Pete, I think I
see through this. These priests have heard about us and our
death-dealing ability. They're jealous; they want a corner on that. Old
Ee-pay figures maybe we could do him a favor in that line, and that's
why he's arguing. The priests want to honor us for the good we've
done--by giving us the reward we've just seen. So--"
Before he could finish, Ee-pay was thrust aside by a group of angry
guards, and I was jerked away. Hope screamed, and out of the tail of my
eye I saw both Vic and Hope struggling frantically to free themselves
from an overwhelming number of guards. Vic tried to shout something, but
a claw-like brown hand was immediately thrust over his mouth.
* * * * *
The guards who held me, followed by the priests, made their way toward
the extended palms which formed the altar of this strange black god
whose favor was death. At a command from the priests, the guards lifted
me to the altar and then stood watchfully below, gazing up at me with
puzzled, mournful, envious eyes.
I saw the priests crouch low, and make their first beseeching bow, in
imitation of the black god. Frantically, I looked about me, seeking some
avenue of escape.
Below me, hemming me in, were the guards; a triple ring of them, through
which I knew I could not escape. Behind me, for I was facing the
multitude, was the hideous, grinning face of the idol.
The priests bowed a second time.
Both Hope and Vic were fighting desperately, but there were at least ten
guards to each of them. I lifted my hand and waved a farewell, hoping
that one of them at least would see the gesture and know that my last
thought was of them.
Then, as the priests completed their third bow, I turned and faced the
statue.
As my eyes fell upon the shutter behind the thick, grinning lips, the
shutter which released the lethal force, a wild and desperate idea came
to me. With a shout, I jerked the gun from my pocket and leaped aside.
As I did so, I fired twice into the gaping mouth, and saw the bullets
shatter the heavy shutter. Then, with the humming sound ringing in my
ears like a note of death, I leaped clear, into the midst of the waiting
guards.
* * * * *
For an instant, there was no movement, no sound, from all that vast
crowd. Even the guards seemed stunned, and I tore my way through them
with hardly a pause in my stride.
Then a shrill cry went up; a cry that drowned utterly the humming sound
that issued from the shattered mouth of the idol. Blindly, the multitude
surged towards the scarlet ray that dealt death, fighting their way
toward the oblivion they so highly prized.
Those who had been holding Hope and Vic were surging forward with the
rest, their erstwhile prisoners forgotten in their mad greed for death.
The crowd jostling about me seemed blind to my presence; every eye was
fixed on the altar-like hands of the idol, and the death that blew
across them.
"Pete!" yelled Vic. "Coming, boy?" He was waiting for me, staving off as
best he could the rush of bodies around him; shielding Hope from the
savage jostling.
"Coming!" I leaned forward, butting with my head, both doubled fists
working like pistons to clear a way to my companions.
"Nice work, Pete!" shouted Vic, as I joined them, breathless but
triumphant. "Now for a break! Gun loaded?"