her come to life in his arms, heard the sob on her lips.
But his head turned away from her and he stared anxiously up at the open
rocket chamber.
He heard the bodies of the monster and the dog slam against the inner
side of the chamber, and then he saw the door of the rocket close. He
knew that the automatic mechanism must have been touched in the battle.
And even as the thought ran through his mind he heard a sudden roar of
flaming sound. The night lit up in a sheet of brilliant light and a wave
of flame spread out from the base of the rocket.
Trent pulled the girl away from that blinding sheet of exploding energy,
and his eyes stared in grim fascination as they ran.
He saw the rocket shudder in its cradle and then lift slowly. It was as
if time had turned back and he were watching an identical scene that had
happened earlier that day.
Only it wasn't the same scene. It was now a scene of horror. For he knew
that the monster and the dog were in that rocket. The rocket that would
shoot skyward in moments, even as its companion had done. Would reach
into the outer fringes of the Earth's atmosphere where the cosmic rays
would envelop it, would react upon the animals inside it.
And a terrible dread spread through Trent at the thought. For if the
first change had been terrible enough, what would happen now?
And as he thought, he saw the rocket lift slowly from its cradle and
gather speed as it shot upward into the night.
* * * * *
The blinding light of the exploding rocket fuel lit the proving grounds
like a huge beacon of incandescence, and Trent was aware of shouts ahead
of him, and running feet.
Then he was surrounded by men from the project, and he caught the glint
of alert weapons and uniforms.
He felt arms grab him and the girl and heard questions pounding at him.
But then he saw a face he knew. And he tore away from the arms of the
guards and shouted.
"Dr. Mathieson! Listen to me!"
The scientist stepped up to him and Trent gripped his arm in the fading
light of the vanishing rocket.
"What's happened here?" the scientist demanded. "Aren't you one of the
newsmen--"
Trent interrupted him. He poured out a string of words. Words that told
what had happened. And as he talked he saw the eyes of the scientist
widen in disbelief. And he heard the guards grow silent around him. Felt
every ear listening with awe to his words.
And when he had finished there was a long moment of silence. And then
Joan Drake moved tremblingly up beside Trent and she spoke:
"It's true, doctor! Every word Fred said is true!"
And one of the guards broke in:
"The word just came in from post four. The fence was torn to pieces--and
Giddings has been murdered--just as they said!"
Then the silence again. And the face of Mathieson was grim as Trent
broke through the quiet:
"--Doctor--that monster who was Gaddon--he's up there now! When the
cosmic rays change him and the dog and the chamber is released ..."
The scientist shook his head slowly, a look of awe in his eyes.
"It won't release, Trent," he said.
Fred Trent looked at him questioningly.
"Gaddon must have forgotten one thing," the scientist continued. "That
rocket was also an experimental project. But not for the same purpose.
It was to test a new type of explosive ..."
Mathieson's voice trailed off and silence closed over the small group
then.
There was no need to say anything further. There was only the tension of
waiting, the tension that showed in every eye.
And the girl moved closer to Trent, her body trembling against his.
They waited. The seconds passed like moments in eternity. Slowly they
marched by, one by one. And then a minute. And the tension grew.
They heard it then. Off in the distance. Out in the waste of the open
desert land. A thundering sound. An explosion that rolled in a wave of
sound.
And with it a flash of brilliant light. Light that seared through the
night in a terrible wave. And with it the thunder of the explosive
warhead.
And then silence.
After a long moment the voice of Mathieson came through the quiet night
wind.
"... It's over. Gaddon is--dead. Poor fool, he fumbled with the tools of
creation, tools that man is not ready to wield ..."
And Trent heard one of the soldiers gasp, "What a story! _What_ a
story!"
But he knew, as he held the girl against him, felt her body relax beside
his, that it was a story he didn't want to write.
He wanted only to forget ...
Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from _Amazing Stories_ April 1949. Extensive
research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on
this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical
errors have been corrected without note.