Part 2

"That's where we'll use our disintegrators," explained Art. "We'll blast a path through which we can lead these people to safety." Art got on the televisor and contacted the government broadcasting center in San Francisco. "Do you have a news broadcast on now?" he asked. The girl clerk answered in the affirmative.

"Please put me on," Art begged. "I'm from Interplanetary Research. Here's my badge. This is a serious emergency. The lives of millions of people are hanging in the balance. You must put me on the air!" A moment later, the news broadcast which was even then picturing the catastrophe in billions of homes all over the world, was abruptly cut off, and Art's face appeared in its stead.

"Fellow citizens, you all know the desperate situation here in Los Angeles--but do you know that you can save a life, perhaps a dozen? There are ten million people here who face a terrible death unless they are picked up immediately. Hop in your fliers and get right down here! There is no danger for a ship which hovers a little above the ground. _Do not try to land!_ The Los Angeles Traffic Patrol will guide you to proper zones. Please hurry. Thank you." Art snapped off the switch and turned to the chief. "Now, let's try to make some kind of map of the already devastated areas. We'll have to check in some manner to be sure there are no living people left in them, then blast our path through with the disintegrators."

* * * * *

Horne readily assented to this plan, and dispatched a number of patrolmen to examine closely the ruined sections. All vicinities which had been taken over entirely by the destroyers, were to be marked by dropping tiny smoke bombs which would send up a dense column of smoke. As the commissioner and Art entered the latter's flier and took off, Art explained the difficulties of using a disintegrator.

"The atomic disintegration of a lump of matter the size of your fist sets off an explosion strong enough to blow one of these big buildings to small fragments. You can imagine what would happen to yourself and the surrounding country if you merely turned a disintegrator beam on the ground, or against a building near you. We tone down the effect somewhat by causing these pistols which I have here, to project a ray about the diameter of a hair from your head. Not only that, but the ray is immediately cut off, lasting only for the duration of one wave length. Even so, the firing of one is a plenty tricky business."

In an hour's time the air patrolmen had laid out a winding, serpentine trail over ten miles long through the bristling mounds of debris. A warning broadcast was sent directing all citizens within sight of the smoke to get underground, lie low, and plug their ears.

"Here we go," said Art, stationing himself at a tiny port in the rear of his flier. "Zoom down over that first signal--as soon as you've passed over it, kick her up again at a slight angle." Horne obeyed. They passed the target; nothing happened. He was beginning to wonder what Art was waiting for, when a half mile past the smoke column, Art fired. The resulting concussion surprised even Art. He felt the ship lurch as it was thrown like a huge projectile high above the city. He grinned as he watched Horne, cursing and fighting until he had the bucking ship under control.

"Let's take a look," he said, sobering at once. He had an uneasy feeling concerning the way in which the grounded population was taking the shock. But his fears were not realized--the stranded folk nearest the explosion cheered and gave the ancient thumbs-up sign, as they skimmed low above the rooftops. Evidently most of the force of the explosion had expended itself upward.

"Get below--here we come again!" shouted Art through an open port.

The sun was descending beyond the blue Pacific, but they went on with their work of continually blasting, blasting, far into the night. Clouds of private fliers began to appear from neighboring California and other southwest cities. Art's desperate appeal had had its effect. By midnight, people were beginning to stumble through the string of smoking craters that had been made for them, toward the untouched open fields and groves to the north. By four o'clock, they were stringing out on the many roads and streets which left the city in that direction. Busses and private cars had been summoned, and were picking them up, to scatter them through neighboring cities where they might find accommodations.

Art and Horne, bruised and stunned from continual concussion and buffeting, exhausted from lack of sleep, looked at each other.

* * * * *

"Guess that's it," said Art. "You'll have to keep the men along the trail with their electron rays, to keep those devils from closing in at the edges." They had found that a line of men armed with these short-range weapons, could kill enough of the creatures to keep them from spreading. The electron ray generated enough sheer heat to melt metal, which was necessary to destroy the organisms.

"The city should be cleared by noon," Art went on. "I'd advise you to destroy the whole works immediately. I'll leave you one of the disintegrators. But be careful. Make sure all the wounded are out."

"Are you leaving already?" asked Horne, surprised. "How come?"

"Just heard from Dr. Theller," Art answered wearily. "It seems I'm wanted in Detroit. Same thing is happening there."

"No!" gasped Horne. "In Detroit! What do you suppose is the connection?"

"I don't know," Art replied. "I only wish I had time to work this out, to get some of these things in the lab and analyze them--it would help so much to know what we're fighting."

Art decided he would stop at the laboratory on the way back, and see if Dr. Theller had been able to find out anything of the nature of the specimen he had left behind. As he entered, he saw that the place was strangely deserted. Dr. Theller and Elene he found in the former's office, however.

"I counted on your stopping in," said the Institute head as Art came in. "Things are in pretty serious shape all over. You did a great job in Los Angeles. Now I'm going to ask you to repeat that performance--"

"Detroit?" Art interrupted.

"No--I've already sent several good men there. You don't realize how this thing has spread. In the last hour, Singapore, Cairo and Athens have all called us. London, in fact, the whole of southeastern England, is stricken. The British Foundation has some fine men, however; they think they'll be able to handle it."

"Dr. Theller, must he leave at once?" asked Elene, with an anxious look at Art's weary face.

"I'll be all right, Elene," Art assured her. "A hot shower, hot drink, and a transfusion of supervitalized plasma, and I'll never know I missed a night's sleep. I've been eating a food tablet every now and then, so I'm not at all hungry."

"All right, Art, you get fixed up--then you're off for Cairo. I'll have the commissary issue you some more disintegrators. I wouldn't ask you to do this, but every minute counts. I'm thinking of taking off for Athens and leaving Elene in charge, myself."

"Oh, I almost forgot to ask you, Dr. Theller, have you examined the specimen here yet?"

A chagrined look came over the scientist's face.

"Well, I hate to admit this, Art, but the thing escaped in the confusion. Don't see how it could have gotten very far away. I'll have some of the men look around the grounds for it."

Art shook his head slowly as he went out. Such incompetency seemed unlike the aged savant, but he guessed that inactivity had taken its toll of the old man.

III

The week following was a long, hideous nightmare, during which Art flew from city to city, fighting the ghastly scourge which was cropping up more and more rapidly, all over the globe. Vladivostok, Berlin, Cuba--he could hardly remember them all. He was glad he could not sleep, because he knew his dreams would be tortured by visions of men and women being cut to ribbons by millions of rending jaws. It was dreadfully apparent to Art what was happening. The creatures appeared in a particular area almost simultaneously. Every bit of life was wiped out, except for perhaps a few small shrubs and grasses. Huge trees, buildings, even mountains, all came crashing down. All sources of food supply were wiped out. The creatures could be cleared from the ground by disintegration, but more soon came to take their place.

Art flew back to the laboratory in Washington from Manchuria, scene of his latest struggle, shortcutting across the polar cap. He noted with sick dismay that even the ice fields were beginning to bristle with black stubble.

Arriving in Washington, Art landed at the Institute. He searched hurriedly for Dr. Theller, but was unable to find him Elene, however, appeared.

"Art! I'm so glad to see you safe! Tell me--is it really as terrible as it looks over the televisor?"

"Ever so much worse," Art answered grimly. "We've got to do something, and quick. I know the Martians could help us. Has Dr. Theller appealed to them?"

"Didn't you know?" she asked, wide eyed. "We haven't had any contact with Mars all week. Two ships were scheduled to arrive from there, and haven't been heard from."

Art whistled softly. "Guess I've been missing quite a bit of news lately!"

"That's not all," Elene continued. "You know Denny was out on Venus with a crew. He sent in some kind of wire to Dr. Theller about discovering some ancient ruins, traces of a lost civilization, and saying that he was heading back. That was over a week ago--he was due in day before yesterday. I've tried repeatedly to contact him on the way, with no success. Dr. Theller certainly behaves strangely--I don't know--he--"

Art wasn't listening. He was thinking of Denny--the bronzed, hard-bitten space pilot, who had always represented to him all the glamour of the far flung outposts. And been just a darn good friend, too. The perils of Venus were many and varied--but on the other hand, he had the utmost confidence in Denny's ability to take care of his space ship and crew through almost any situation.

"Art, I'm beginning to have a dreadful feeling that somehow this is all tied in together," said Elene hesitantly. "I've been wanting to talk it over with you for ever so long. This plague of subterranean monsters--communications with Mars cut off--Denny out there somewhere, cut off, too--"

* * * * *

"Perhaps there's not so much cause for concern over Denny," Art put in soothingly. "After all, any sort of trivial accident might have occurred which would delay him this long."

"Yes, Art, but I feel that even though the creatures don't seem to have much intelligence, there is some kind of horrible plan behind the whole thing, and that the stopping of traffic with the other planets is part of that plan."

"That is quite a theory, Elene, my dear," came a patronizing voice from behind, "but it's quite possible that I and my colleagues may be able to work out a solution without the aid of my secretary." Dr. Theller had entered the room unnoticed. Elene flushed, and was on the verge of making an equally caustic retort, but bit back the words.

"As far as Denny is concerned," the doctor went on, "he has been going out there for a good many years now; unless I miss my guess, the space madness is creeping in on his brain. That story of finding remains of a lost civilization--that's really pretty steep, you know. It's well known that the evolution of fauna on Venus has not, and will not, progress to the point of producing reasoning, speaking beings for millions of years."

"I can't believe that of Denny!" flashed Art. "Space madness attacks those who can't stand the solitude, exposure and utter loneliness of that awful void. You know that Denny always laughed at those things. He was iron. And I don't believe he's getting old, either. The last time I saw him, he was in his prime."

A hot argument was averted only by the flashing of signals at one side of the room, which announced a televisor communication. Elene was nearest and flipped the switch. The face of a middle-aged man, tense with suppressed excitement, appeared on the screen. He scanned their faces closely. It was Haight, of the British Foundation.

"Theller--Douglas--all of you!" he blurted. "Listen! I've just found--oh, but what fools we were not to see! Those organisms--they're--but I can't possibly tell you over the air. I'll be there as fast as a strato-ship can take me. I'm bursting to tell someone. There's not a soul here in the lab; it's very late. Expect me in three hours, at the most." The screen went black.

* * * * *

Art and Elene were on the roof of the laboratory, enjoying the soft summer evening, and talking over this new turn of events. The city was quiet around them. New hope seemed to blaze within them with the brilliance of the countless stars overhead. Perhaps Haight's discovery meant the turning of the tide in this losing struggle in which they had been participating. Art felt that he could relax for the first time since that heartbreaking week had begun. As his fatigue fell away, he felt a great longing come over him. How near he had come to losing this lovely woman by his side. All those years of dull routine in the lab, near her every day, yet doing nothing about it! But Art had changed to a man of action, through sheer necessity, and he wore his new personality with heady exuberance. He took the girl in his arms.

"Darling, life is very good," he murmured. "I don't want us to die. I don't want to be pushed off this lovable old earth of ours by an alien form of life. And it's chiefly because of you. But we're not going to let that happen, are we? We're going to fight until every last hideous, ugly one of them is gone."

"Yes, sweet," she sighed contentedly, "And Art, please--when it's all over--let's not just sink back into the old way of life again. I think our love will be able to stand even that test from now on--but let's not put it to that test. Can't we get out of Interplanetary, travel, open up new worlds, just anything like that?"

"I have a hunch that from now on we're going to require plenty of danger in our everyday life," he laughed. "After we're married--"

A shrill whine interrupted them, and they broke apart. Far out in the midnight sky, hours had slipped away like so many minutes, and Haight was arriving. He had been hurling his ship along at a reckless speed and was braking only at the last minute. Now they could see the dark shape arching down toward the laboratory. Suddenly it seemed to stop, to poise in midair. Then it dissolved into a blinding white flash. The deafening roar of the explosion came seconds later. Art and Elene looked at each other in mute horror and despair, amid a great silence broken only by tiny, distant sounds as the fragments of Haight and his ship rained down gently on the city of Washington.

"We'll keep fighting," Art finally said in a dull voice.

IV

Beneath Art's flier swept the tumbled mountains of Ozark Park. Once there had been people who lived there and actually eked a living from cultivating those steep and stony hillsides. Long ago that had been given up as impractical and unnecessary, however, and the whole region had been turned into one vast national forest. It was covered from one end to another with mighty timber, stocked in profusion with all kinds of wild game. That is, it had been covered the last time Art saw it. Now, the great trees lay tumbled about like so many match sticks, their great roots gnawed away by blind, mindless creatures. There was not a green thing in sight. A pall of smoke hung low overhead--great fires were raging everywhere in the dry stuff. Man had no time to protect the trees, when his own cities were being destroyed.

Art had just left Mexico City, and was headed for Chicago. There he intended to introduce an experiment with which he had had some degree of success elsewhere. He had constructed an ark of thick plastocrete, into which the passengers could be hermetically sealed. Oxygen and food were synthetically manufactured, enabling them to live without danger from the unknown poison in the water. But in his heart, he knew that this was a poor device, that there must be some simpler, more direct solution. After the death of Haight, he had wanted to take one of the Institute's ships, and blast off for Mars. He was sure that the savants of that age-old planet could help. But Dr. Theller had been strongly against this, in fact refused to permit it.

As he sped over the ruined forest, a grim look came over Art's face. He had not seen Elene since the night of Haight's death, four days ago. Since then he had been in the thick of the fight, as before. Elene had been suspicious that the death of the British scientist had been no accident, and had promised to investigate and keep in touch with him. Her lovely face had appeared several times in his televisor screen, during the first two days, although she had nothing to report except that she loved him. But two more days had passed without a word. Art could raise nobody at the laboratory. He frowned, and thought that he had better have a look there, before he went on to Chicago.

Something caught his eye, below and ahead. There was a patch of untouched forest, a little canyon that had not as yet been invaded by the monsters that were ruining the surrounding country. There the huge trees still waved, calm and unmolested. But there was something else, something sharp and bright that had captured his attention. Yes, there it was again--a tiny fleck of sky blue. The same sky blue with which his ship, like all the fliers of the Interplanetary Institute, were painted!

* * * * *

He swung around, and came down in a tight spiral. As he levelled off, he saw a tiny figure, standing at the side of the wrecked ship. It waved frantically, and no doubt shouted. Art settled gently in a thicket of vining maple, and clambered stiffly out of his ship, as the marooned pilot came running toward him. Great Glorious Galaxies! It was Elene!

"Oh, Art, I don't know how you found me, but I'm so glad it's you, darling," she sobbed in his arms.

"Elene, I wasn't looking for you--didn't even know you were lost!" he exclaimed. "It's a miracle that I stumbled on you like this."

"But didn't Dr. Theller--no--of course he wouldn't--"

"How did you ever happen to crash _here_?"

"Dr. Theller sent me with Paul Hedrik, that new boy, you remember, the nice blond one--to check casualty lists in San Francisco. We were crossing the Park, at about thirty thousand, when we ran out of rocket fuel. Well, that wasn't so serious, we could easily make a long glide, and if we could find a place safe from these--worms--we could make a helicopter landing. But Paul saw this little canyon dead ahead. It was the only safe looking place for miles. That meant we had to come in at a steep angle. He licked in the braking jets, hoping there would be a little fuel left in the lines. There was. One of the jets was plugged or something--it exploded back into the cockpit. Paul was killed instantly. I was stunned. The ship was out of control, but I finally came to and managed to make a crash landing somehow."

"Where's Paul's body?" Art asked.

"Still in there." She pointed to the wrecked flier. "My televisor was smashed. I couldn't stand the thought of sleeping in there. I made a little camp over there by the creek. It was awfully cold, even though I built a fire. But I wasn't frightened--I had my friends--"

"Your friends!" exclaimed Art. "Who--"

"Don't you see them?" she asked, pointing. And he did see what the gloom of the forest had at first hidden from his unaccustomed eyes. The leafy corridors were swarming with creatures. Deer, oppossum, raccoon, bear, even a puma or two, all were gathered there in dumb resignation. They knew with unerring instinct that they were trapped, that there was no escape from this tiny island. They made no attempt to molest each other, or the humans who such a short time ago had been their deadly enemies. They drank occasionally from the little creek, but they did not eat.

"You see, I couldn't be lonely," she continued. "It could even have been fun, if I hadn't known that those millions of horrible little jaws were out there in the dark, gnawing, gnawing. You can even hear them. You can hear the big trees crashing down, all day, all night."

"Easy, honey--it's all over now. We're going to get out of here. We'll get Paul's body, and--"

"But Art, don't you see what this means? If Paul hadn't forgotten to fill the fuel tank, it we had had a full tank, we'd have been blown to atoms when that jet exploded--it was only an accident that I escaped. But that plugged jet was no _accident_--that was deliberate. Don't you think it is strange that Dr. Theller shouldn't let you know when I have been lost for two days? And that he was the only one besides us who knew about Haight's discovery, and his coming to Washington, and that the same accident happened to Haight? And what happened to Denny? I tell you, there are all sorts of things about Dr. Theller that are beginning to add up. From the very first he's occupied only a passive role in this battle, done nothing whatever to help. He let that specimen get away the first day, and has never had another in there for analysis."

"What!" exclaimed Art. "No--Elene--it can't be. You don't know what you're saying!"

V

"On the contrary, the young lady is quite right," came a deep bass voice from behind him. Art whirled in sudden panic, reaching for his electron gun. But what he saw froze him to immobility. A tall, gaunt figure, its ebony skin decked with a harness of white plastic, in which were set countless glossy black stones. The head narrow and acquiline to the extreme, with huge, haunting black eyes. A Martian! And one of the Greater Ring of scientists who governed the red planet, judging by the trappings.

"You do not recognize me," chuckled the deep voice. "Why, I remember you well. You came to Mars with Dr. Theller, let me see, June last year, and November the year before, I believe it would be, according to your calendar. They say we all look alike to Earthmen--but surely you know Klalmar-lan. I was on the Committee both times."

"Of course I do," beamed Art, holding out his hand. "You had me a bit rattled there for a minute. But you can't imagine how glad we are to see you. Elene, meet Klalmar-lan. This is Miss Moor, my fiancee."

"Klalmar-lan," said Elene, "as Art has already told you, we are immensely relieved to see you. We hope that you can help us rid our planet of this scourge. Unless you do, the human race and every form of animal life on Earth is doomed."

"I have the means of accomplishing that," he answered gravely. "For how else do you suppose this tiny refuge has remained here, other than through my doing?" They stood in amazement as he went on. "Furthermore, I am rather ashamed of you, Art, for letting so many things which should have been obvious to a man of your calibre, slip by you. But I guess Theller did a pretty good job of covering up."

"How do you happen to be here in such an out of the way spot?" asked Art.

"I had to have a hideout on Earth from which I could steal out and make a few observations," the Martian explained. "And it's a good thing I did, from what I hear. I arrived here from Venus yesterday morning, about five--"

"Only a few hours before we crashed!" exclaimed Elene.

"Yes--the forest in this vicinity was just beginning to be attacked. I landed on the side hill above here, and blanketed this canyon with a choker ray. I didn't want to make it too noticeable--"

"Wait," Art interrupted, "how about this choker ray--that's the whole thing--that's what we want to know!"