A DESPERATE SORTIE.
My plans for making the trip to the airport did not include the use
of either the automobile or the road. The lane leading to the highway
was now almost a solid mass of stalk medusæ, and the highway itself
had been declared impassable, blocked as it was by the interlacing
tentacles which grew clear up to the edge of the concrete. I did have
a plan, however, which I thought quite capable of being carried into
effect.
Among the farm implements was a powerful caterpillar tractor. When
I told the professor that I intended to use it and take a short cut
across the fields, he was dumfounded.
"Why, Dick, that would be fatal. There isn't even a cab over it for
protection. I can't think of permitting it."
"What if I turn it into a tank first?" I asked.
"Into a tank? How?"
"There are plenty of materials and tools. The old chicken house you
tore down had a sheet metal roof. Fastened on two-by-fours and well
braced, this will make a cab that will be as good a protection as a
closed automobile. And with a few lights of glass from your greenhouse
we can make a windshield that will answer our purpose. With one man
driving and another using an acetylene torch, we can go through almost
anything short of a stone wall. The torch will not only burn any medusæ
that may impede our progress, but will cut through the wire fences."
"By Jove!" exclaimed the professor. "It sounds feasible enough. Get
Smith to help you build that tank. I suppose it will take several days,
but the thing will be almost invincible, once it is constructed."
"I don't think it will take two of us long to build," I answered. "We
should have it ready for the trip by tomorrow afternoon."
"If you do, so much the better," said the professor. "Go ahead, and
while you are at it I'll do some more experimenting."
Smith and I set to work on our tank shortly thereafter. The other farm
hands, reënforced at times by the professor, kept after the stalk
medusæ that continued to sprout near the buildings, using the acetylene
torches. But just outside the little circle kept cleared around the
buildings was a solid forest of stalk medusæ that stretched as far as
the eye could see in every direction. And the air was heavy with the
sickening, musty stench that exuded from their silver-gray bodies and
deadly tentacles.
While Smith and I worked on our tank, Sue came out from time to time to
tell us of the latest developments as announced on the radio. Once she
brought us lemonade, and again, tea, sandwiches and cakes.
According to the latest reports, the medusæ had adopted their trawling
tactics everywhere. Yet they appeared to be aware that their intended
prey was thickest in the cities, and swooped down on them in great
numbers.
Some cities were approached during fogs or rainstorms when the coming
of the medusæ went unnoticed, and as a result, thousands of people
perished. Even the smallest towns and villages had their lookouts
posted, and when a suspicious cloud was sighted whistles were blown,
bells rung, and shots fired, in order that every one might seek cover.
Thousands of stalk medusæ were sprouting in city lawns and parks, and
as a result every fire-making apparatus that could be secured was
pressed into use.
* * * * *
It was not until after dinner that night that we heard for the first
time of individual medusæ attacking closed houses, insinuating their
fine tentacles through crevices around windows and doors, keyholes,
or any other openings, until they were able to find and kill the
inmates by terrific electrical shocks; after absorbing them through the
tentacles alone, they would move on in search of other prey.
Householders were warned to keep torches ready, to have fires going
at all times, and to keep soldering irons, pokers, tongs and shovels
red-hot, to be used in case of attack. They were warned, also, that
when touching a tentacle with a metal object they should wear rubbers
and either insulate the grip of the weapon they were using or wear
rubber gloves.
That night we took turns watching, the professor, Smith, Wong, and I,
with the furnace going full blast and every window and door tightly
closed. As it was unusually warm we made a most uncomfortable night of
it.
It was three o'clock on the following afternoon before Smith and I were
ready to start across the fields to the airport in our tank.
Smith, who had handled tractors for many years, was to do the driving,
while I managed the torch. In addition to this weapon and the pump-gun,
we carried a bottle of dilute prussic acid solution and a small brush
to be used in removing any tentacles that might wrap themselves around
us. My right arm, which projected from the side of the cab through
a hole cut especially for the purpose, was protected by sheet metal
armor, and my hand, with which I grasped the pole to which the nozzle
was fastened, was covered by a heavy leather gauntlet to which Sue had
stitched tiny overlapping plates of metal.
Sue, Mrs. Davis, the professor, and the entire entourage were present
to see us off.
Farewells and godspeeds were said, and we lumbered off across the
barnyard and into the pasture lane.
At the mouth of the lane we encountered our first stalk medusæ.
They bent down to receive us, and their writhing tentacles whipped
menacingly around us. But the tractor knocked the stalks down and
trundled over them, almost as if they had not been there, while the
spurting acetylene flame instantly severed every tentacle it touched.
We made slow but steady progress, leaving a writhing, squirming,
stinking trail of crushed and scorched medusæ behind us. After we
crossed the pasture we cut our first fence with the acetylene torch,
and entered what had been the clover field.
As I looked at the weird, unearthly landscape, I was struck by its
contrast with the pleasant scene it had presented two days before, when
I had lain in the speckled shade of the hackberry tree listening to the
bees droning in the sweet-scented clover while Sue wove a garland of
blossoms.
Where the clover had been the ground was dry and bare between the ugly,
tentacle-crowned, silver-gray stalks. The hackberry tree, stripped of
its leaves and drained of its sap, stood a gaunt, lifeless skeleton,
its bare limbs stretched heavenward as it in a plea for vengeance on
its merciless destroyers.
The droning of the bees, the chirping of the crickets, and singing of
birds--all were stilled, to be replaced by one monotonous and sinister
sound--the rustling of countless millions of writhing, squirming
tentacles. And the pleasant fragrance of clover and wild flowers had
given away to the disgusting decay-smell of the medusæ.
We lumbered slowly across the former clover field, cut a second fence,
and entered the pasture in which Pilot Jackson had crashed two days
before. Here we found more and larger medusæ than we had previously
encountered, and our progress was for a time considerably retarded.
But we got across at last, cut a third fence, and entered what had
once been a cornfield. Like the other fields we had crossed, it was
completely denuded of vegetation by the rankly growing crop of invaders
from the comet.
* * * * *
As we approached the airport we saw with relief that the landing field
had been kept clear of medusæ. A squad of men using a flame-thrower
were kept busy destroying such sprouts as cropped up from time to time.
The surface of the entire field was blackened by the repeated burning
to which it had been subjected.
When we cut our last fence and entered the landing field, we were
greeted by a loud cheer from a group in front of the airport, and they
crowded curiously around us as we approached.
Captain Felton, in charge of the port, greeted us cordially, and
ordered the munitions loaded for us. They consisted of several cases
of hand grenades, a trench mortar with ammunition, an anti-aircraft
gun with ammunition, a machine gun with ammunition, and a number of
unloaded shells with material for loading them. As we knew very little
about these weapons he detailed a corporal named Ole Hansen to go with
us and show us how to assemble and use them.
In a few minutes a sergeant reported that our cargo was loaded. After
we had taken leave of the captain and stowed Ole Hansen among the
munitions, Smith climbed into the driver's seat. I lighted my torch and
took my position beside him.
The men at the airport cheered us and wished us luck as we trundled off
over the scorched field.
Soon we were smashing and burning our way back over the path by which
we had come. We made much better time than before as the medusæ over
which we had previously passed were badly crippled, and those on either
side had many of their tentacles burned away.
It was not until we were on the last lap of our journey, crashing
through the lane that led to the cattle pens, that Smith noticed
something amiss at the Davis house.
"Mr. Perry!" he cried in horror. "Look! Look over there toward the
house!"
I looked, and the blood froze in my veins, for where the house should
have been plainly visible, I could see only a dense, silver-gray cloud.
As we approached it there came plainly to our ears above the noise of
our motor the roaring sound which a giant medusa makes when it attacks.