The Infra Medians
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Sewell Peaslee Wright >> The Infra Medians
"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?"
I snapped open the action and dropped in six cartridges.
"It is now. I'll go ahead; you bring up the rear with Hope in the
middle. Ready?"
"Let's go!"
* * * * *
I plunged on, Hope's fingers gripping my belt. Fresh multitudes were
pouring up the ramp, brushing aside the five or six priests that had
hurried there in an effort to stem the tide.
One of the priests saw us, and cried out shrilly to his companions. With
one accord they came toward us, obviously intent upon blocking our way.
I have never seen in any other eyes such anger and hatred as blazed in
the eyes of those strange beings.
"Watch them, Pete!" roared Vic. "We can't take chances!" His gun roared
twice from behind me, and two of the priests fell writhing, to be
instantly trampled into pulp. Another reached out long arms toward Hope,
and I let him have it. There was nothing else to do. He went the way of
the two others.
Twice again, before we reached the ramp they guarded, the angry
attendants of the idol fell before our guns. Then, hurrying down ramp
after ramp, corridor after corridor, fighting the rushing mob all the
way, we came at last, shaking with weariness and gasping for breath, to
the deserted streets of this black and terrible city.
"Are we free?" whispered Hope, holding tightly to my arm. "Are we really
free?"
"I hope so, dear. We seem to be. If we can only reach the spot where we
entered this insane world before something happens--"
"How much time have we?" interrupted Vic.
I glanced down at my watch, fearful, for a moment, that it had been
broken or lost in the melee. It was still running, apparently undamaged.
"Let's see; it's four minutes of one. That gives us seven minutes. Can
we make it?"
"I think so. It's not so far, and we're nearly out of the city. We
_have_ to make it!"
* * * * *
Vic led the way, Hope and I following. Anxiously, I watched the minute
hand of the watch slide toward the "XII" of the dial ... touch it ...
move on....
It was not far, as Vic had said, but we were weary from our battle with
the crazed mob, and the best we could force from our legs was a sort of
dog-trot.
One minute after ... two....
"Here's the spot! I marked it with these three pieces of stone. Quick!"
Vic swept both arms about Hope and me, holding us in a close embrace, so
that we all stood within the triangle formed by the three bits of black
rock.
I glanced down at my watch. It lacked but a few seconds of the moment
when the machine back in Vic's laboratory would function--provided my
watch was correct, and the equipment worked according to schedule.
Suddenly, Hope screamed, and I followed her eyes. A score or more of the
strange beings had suddenly materialized but a few yards away, and they
were closing in on us swiftly.
I tried to draw my gun. Hands reached out to grasp me; to grasp all
three of us. Then darkness closed in swiftly; I was whisked upward, on
and on, breathlessly. I was suddenly very heavy; I was dropping in the
blackness ... there was something solid beneath my feet ... a glare of
light in my eyes.
"Nicely timed, I'll say that," chuckled Vic. "How does our own material
little old world look?"
"Great!" I stepped quickly away from the machine, drawing Hope with me.
"Doesn't it, Hope?"
She sighed, a long, shuddering sigh, and snuggled into my arms. Vic
glanced towards us and grinned.
"Come to think of it," he remarked, "I believe I'll run along and see if
I can find Mrs. Perrin. I haven't had a thing to eat since noon
yesterday, and I've just realized I'm hungry. Will you join me?"
"In a moment," I nodded, and Vic, being the good scout he was, hurried
away.
* * * * *
"And the machine?" I asked a few nights later. "Still experimenting with
it?" I had really come out to see Hope, of course, but she was still
upstairs, putting on the finishing touches.
Vic shook his head quite gravely.
"No, old son; I had enough. Off on another tangent now. Why--would you
like to go back?"
"Not me! It doesn't seem real now; more like a nightmare, but it was
terrible enough at the time."
"I can prove it wasn't a nightmare," chuckled Vic. "Come along, and I'll
show you something you missed." He led the way to the laboratory, and
unlocked a drawer, one of several, beneath the work table.
"I found this on the floor of the machine," he said. "Didn't notice it
until later. The rays of the machine caught it and brought it back with
us; made it solid matter, as we know it here. Do you recognize it?"
I nodded, shuddering. There was no possibility of mistake.
In a squat, clear bottle of alcohol that Vic had taken from the drawer
was a sinister, claw-like brown hand, severed cleanly at the wrist.