Part 5

It was at this precise moment that Marc sprang after the doctor. Leaping lightly forward, he grasped Herrigg's upper arms firmly and pulled them sharply behind the startled man. There was a quick barking sound, and a bullet whined thinly over Harold's head, then ricocheted from the solid, circular wall. As the gun clattered to the floor, Harold followed its example, and dropped to his knees, looking much like a terrified, repentant sinner at a revival.

"Cripes, Doc!" he muttered feverishly. "You got it all wrong. All I want is a drink!"

"Grab that gun!" Marc panted, holding the furiously struggling doctor. "Cover him!"

Toffee, like an Olympic runner in the last stretch, darted swiftly from the shadows and scooped the weapon from the floor. This time she held it correctly.

"Stand back!" she yelled blood thirstily, slipping into what she believed to be the spirit of the occasion. "I'll blow his ugly head off!"

The doctor, unexpectedly confronted by this chilling display of feminine willingness to mayhem, became instantly docile. "Don't shoot!" he pleaded.

Marc released him and moved toward Toffee. He took the gun from her and held it levelly on Herrigg. "Let's go, Herrigg," he said. "Let's join the sheriff."

"You can't do this!" the doctor protested frantically. "You can't!"

"No?" Marc asked, nodding toward the door. "Just step right this way."

There was a general movement toward the outer passage, but it was suddenly arrested like an abrupt foot-fall in the dark that had reached for a stairway too soon. The party, quarry and hunters alike, suddenly froze, as a wild baying echoed weirdly through the outer tunnel.

"Monsters!" Toffee screamed with sincerest terror.

And in the next moment it seemed that she was right. Two sets of fiendish, glowing eyes appeared in the doorway, and below them, in appropriate places, were two wide, slavering mouths. This paralyzing spectacle was presently explained, though made no more lovely, as the eyes and mouths, advancing, proved to be the formidable property of two giant bloodhounds. They were straining against a couple of taut chain leashes at whose ends was a single, mammoth hand. It was the hand of Sheriff Miller. He surveyed the transfixed party with triumphant eyes.

"Here they are boys!" he called out loudly. "Come and get 'em!"

The call was greeted by the additional, and no more reassuring appearance of three deputies, all of uniform and unbelievable proportions. One of them carried a gun of distant, but nonetheless dangerous, vintage.

"Which one we after, Mort?" one of them asked in a voice that sounded as though it was being dragged through a gravel pit.

The sheriff pointed to Marc. "That tall, murderous buzzard," he drawled.

Dr. Herrigg, seeing his deliverance at hand, glanced eagerly toward the desk, the button on its corner. Marc, realizing that he had lost his advantage, started forward.

"There's your murderer!" he cried, pointing a trembling finger at the doctor, and praying that the sheriff would believe him. He still had his gun, and intended using it if Herrigg made a move. The doctor seemed to sense this and remained tentatively where he was.

"I don't know what he's talking about," he said suavely. "This man is obviously suffering from a mental disorder."

"Don't believe him!" Marc yelled. "Ask him about his laboratory."

The sheriff looked baffled. He rubbed his free hand slowly over the back of his neck. It seemed an hour before the act had been completed, and he said, "Grab 'em both boys. Hold 'em quiet 'til we find out what this is all about."

The "boys" did as they were told with a little more efficiency, it seemed, than was absolutely necessary.

"And now," the sheriff said unhurriedly, "I might's well tell you two, if either of you make a move, we'll just have to fix you for good."

* * * * *

In disagreement with these new developments, Toffee started determinedly forward, but suddenly stopped short as the bloodhounds turned toward her and snarled. She'd seen hungry glances directed at her legs before, but never any quite so terrifyingly hungry as these. The sheriff regarded her lazily.

"I'd sure hate to see a pretty girl like you get all chewed up and spit out," he said with genuine sadness. "But if you make another move, I'm afraid I just won't be able to hold the hounds no longer. They ain't had a lot to eat lately."

Toffee glanced nervously at the great, hulking beasts, and didn't make another move. The sheriff directed his attention to Marc's captor.

"Keep a sharp eye on that 'un, Fred," he said. "He's pretty desperate."

Meantime, Harold, forgotten and ignored in the background, was beginning to feel a bit left out of things. He started vaguely forward.

"I'm pretty desperate too," he said jarringly.

Surprised, everyone turned in unison to look at the woozy little fellow.

"I'm Hypo Hal," Harold went on theatrically, delighted by such unanimous attention and reluctant to lose it. "I think I'll make a confession or two."

He swaggered importantly across the room to the desk, and sitting on its edge, glanced back to check the setting. "What's this?" he asked absently, jabbing a finger toward the button on the corner.

"Don't!" screamed Marc. And with a sudden motion of his shoulders, he lurched free of the deputy's heavy grasp.

"Get 'im, Fred!" the sheriff bellowed.

In the furious moment that followed, Marc was briefly aware of just two things. The first was a Gargantuan fist, moving swiftly into his face; the second ... and most alarming ... was Harold's finger, pressing firmly down on the white button. Both made contact in the same dreadful instant.

There was a sudden, terrifying burst of white, white light, then complete, roaring darkness.

* * * * *

Marc felt the floor go fluid under his feet. Then the swirling tide caught him up, and he was spiraling downward, into the deep blackness of a gigantic whirlpool. Nearer and nearer the pointed, thrashing center he moved, but he did not struggle against it. Somehow, he was suddenly too weary to care. He relaxed and let himself be borne along in the racing, circling current.

The journey ended just as it reached its twisting, turning climax. Deposited lightly on a soft, velvety surface, Marc lay perfectly still for a moment, savoring a strange feeling of quiet contentment. Slowly, he opened his eyes and gazed out at the muted greenness of the quiet little valley. He ran an eager hand over the grass. It was as soft and fine as rabbit's fur. With a contented sigh, he rolled over. Then he sat up abruptly.

The pert, vivid face that was lowered to his, was familiar. Also, it was irritated in expression. Dangerously so.

"What's the big idea?" Toffee demanded hotly.

"What do you mean?"

"What do I mean! Just listen to him! You know very well what I mean. Shoving me back into your subconscious just when things really get exciting!"

Marc glanced questioningly around.

"We're in the valley of your obnoxious mind," Toffee explained ungraciously. "Now I'll have to go back to work, putting away that stupid miscellaneous information. And what trash it is! It's what I get for taking the job in an inferior mind. I should have held out for a decent intellect."

"I'm sorry," Marc murmured, too cowed to argue.

The anger immediately faded from Toffee's puckish features. She fell to her knees beside him.

"I'm sorry I said that, Marc," she said with unaccustomed gentleness. "I didn't mean it. I wouldn't be anyone else's subconscious manifestation for anything in the world. I swear it!"

"World!" The word struck a responsive chord in Marc's memory. "I've got to get back!" he cried, jumping to his feet.

"Not until you kiss me goodbye," Toffee insisted, rising after him.

Cool lips and whirling dizziness often went hand in hand, but never as when the lips involved were Toffee's. Suddenly, the valley had begun to spin, and Marc felt himself being lifted upward. There was a dreadful rush of wind, and Toffee was torn from his embrace. A moment later, as through the roar of a tumultuous ocean, her voice reached him faintly.

"Don't forget!" she was calling. "Don't forget that I'm always waiting here, in the back of your mind. I'm always here, Marc!"

Marc attempted a reply, but the screaming wind forced the words back into his throat. He tried not to notice that the light was growing dim; that a heavy blackness was drawing close around him, everywhere.

* * * * *

Marc opened his eyes, and cautiously felt his jaw. It hurt. Taking this in stride, he directed his attention to his surroundings. He was propped up against the passage wall in a more-or-less, back-of-the-neck, sitting position. From the opening at the end, he could see that the half-light of early morning was reaching in to waste a delicate, silvery outline on an immense pile of rocky wreckage. There was a scraping sound behind him, and he turned.

"You finally wake up?" the sheriff drawled, moving toward him. "Might's well tell you right now, you ain't hurt none, so's you won't worry."

Marc started to his feet.

"You don't have to run from me no more," the sheriff said. "You're in the clear. Herrigg told us all about the murder; how he shot the woman and put 'er in your house. We ain't after you no more."

Marc relaxed.

"Where is everyone?" he asked. "What happened?"

"They've all went," the sheriff said uneasily. "Everyone 'cept you and me ... and one other."

"One other?"

"Yeah," the sheriff went on hesitantly. "The ... the girl. She didn't get out when the blast went off, I guess. We looked fer 'er, but didn't have no luck. I'm sorry to be the one to tell it to you. She was such a pretty little thing. But I guess she's happier where she is, if it comforts you to think so."

"Yes. I guess so," Marc replied, smiling wryly. His eyes became reflective. "What about the doctor?"

"Well, I ain't so sure about him. He acted all right while we was talkin' about the murder, but soon's we brought up about this place down here and the rig he had in 'er, it seems like he just went plumb outa his head. He kept mumblin' something about somebody breakin' some sort of beam and reversin' a mechanism. Kept yellin' that it caused the earth to get itself all uncharged, whatever that means. And he called that poor little girl names 'til you just wouldn't believe it." The sheriff paused and gazed intently at Marc. "You got any idea what he was goin' on about?"

Marc considered the question for a long moment. "No, I haven't," he said finally. "I haven't any idea at all."

"You was ravin' about him blowin' up the world, last night."

"I guess I was just excited," Marc replied evasively.

"That's what I thought at the time."

Marc got slowly to his feet, and tried his legs. They were a little stiff but still serving their purpose.

"What about the laboratory?" he asked.

"Blew to kingdom come," the sheriff replied. "Ain't nothin' left of 'er. Guess we'll never know what was goin' on in 'er. We got the men out of 'er all right, but they didn't know much about what they was here for."

Marc nodded and started slowly up the passage. He was anxious to be away from the place.

"I think I'd like to get back to the house," he said, "if you don't mind."

"Don't mind at all," the sheriff answered amiably, following after him. "As a matter of fact, I feel a little foolish about chasin' you around like I did. But after you locked me up and blasted my jail house, I guess it wasn't my fault I thought you was a desperado."

When they reached the top of the cliff and stepped out onto the highway, Marc had to close his eyes a moment against the bright morning sun. He shook his head. At first there was a sharp pain, but when it had passed he felt better. He opened his eyes again, started to turn to the sheriff, then did a quick double-take toward the beach house. His eyes grew wide with disbelief.

A blue convertible was standing pertly in the drive.

* * * * *

Without a word of explanation, Marc ran eagerly across the highway and toward the house, leaving the sheriff to his own reflections on the daftness of city folk.

"Julie! Julie!" he cried, reaching the path. And in the next instant he nearly stumbled as he saw his wife, cool, blonde and radiant as ever, move gracefully through the front door and smile down at him from the tiny terrace. Then, somehow, she was in his arms.

"When did you get here?" Marc asked when he could.

"Just fifteen minutes ago," Julie said cheerfully. "I drove all night to get here. I had no idea you'd be at the beach so early. I thought I'd have to drag you out of bed." She sighed contentedly. "I just couldn't stand another day without you. I just couldn't face it."

"What about the separate vacations?"

Julie's eyes became wide and innocent. "What are those?" she asked.

"All over it?"

She nodded, flushed just a little.

Through their conversation, Marc had been vaguely aware of a man's voice within the house. It seemed excited.

"Who's that?" he asked.

"Oh, that!" Julie laughed. "It's the radio!" She looked suddenly excited, as though having just remembered something important. "You should just hear what's going on! It's absolutely fantastic!"

"Going on?"

"Yes. It's the strangest thing. Early this morning there was some sort of disturbance all through the earth's surface. In some places, it was so severe, it knocked down whole buildings. I really don't understand it very well, but at first they thought it was just an earthquake, but scientists proved somehow that it couldn't have been. Now, they've decided that it must have been some sort of weird bombardment from another planet ... Mars or the moon, or one of those places. Russia even claims to be holding Orson Welles responsible.

"Anyway, the most amazing things have been happening ever since! Already, they've formed a World Army in case of further attacks. And everyone's talking about a United World. They're really sincere about it, too. The world has really become united in just the last few hours. It's odd how swiftly these things can be accomplished when they really get down to it. They've settled matters that no one ever thought they'd agree on. It's almost unbelievable. It seems we just had to have some sort of outside threat to pull us all together."

"Are you sure about all that?" Marc asked.

"Oh, yes!" Julie nodded positively. "Some places got a real jolting." She drew closer to him. "I'm so glad you weren't in any of them," she went on softly. "I'm so thankful you were safe here, where nothing ever happens ... where you could have a nice, quiet vacation."

Marc's mouth flew widely open, then snapped shut. Grinning, he slipped an arm about Julie's waist and pulled her gently toward the house.

"So am I," he said quietly.

THE END