by Jerry
The wilderness once more conquered the world; and now the wilderness and the sky above it were filled with monsters more fierce and more terrible than even those of Mesozoic times. The dominion of man was confined to one strange walled and roofed city in which we lived and Professor Abelton ruled. In all other places those men who had survived became furtive, hunted creatures, cowering in caves or in the deserted skyscrapers of their once-proud cities.
In the first few months of the invasion of the great monster insects, the rural reaches of the world were cleaned of their last shrieking human food. The great hordes of insects driven by ravenous hunger, picked the countryside bare. Men fled to the cities in countless thousands, so that the roads in every direction were crowded with pitiful fleeting figures. Into this maggot-heap of human life plunged the rapacious dragons which now ruled the air. The roarings and boomings of the monsters drowned the cries of the dying. Following these throngs, the monsters of both the land and the air found the cities. And then the cities ceased to be the abiding place of man and became the abiding place of Death and nameless horror.
Heroic attempts to stand against these creatures were made; but the ordinary weapons of the fighters made no impression upon the monsters. Their massive, tough armor of chitin, shed rifle and machine-gun bullets like drops of water; and, even when a missile did by chance penetrate a crevice in the armor or puncture a wing, the great size of the insects made the wound negligible.
Only heavy artillery and high-explosive shells were of avail against them, and these, did indeed work great havoc among the creeping creatures; but the flying insects learned to keep to the air when the guns began firing. Anti-aircraft guns were of little avail; for the world was unprepared for any such attack from the air, and the comparatively few anti-aircraft guns were impotent against the swarms of giant beetles, dragon-flies, great wasps, flying ants and other winged horrors which now darkened the sun.
The situation was made more hopeless by the millions of deaths caused by the plagues. A regiment of a thousand men would be decimated before a shot had been fired. Soldiers would drop dead in the very act of aiming a great gun. All transportation had ceased, and, when a community ran short of ammunition, the fighting ceased and the hiding and fleeing began.
The continent of North America was the only great land-mass on which the insects had not made their immediate appearance. But the four-dimensional world from which they had come was eventually so large that it was only a question of time before they began entering Mexico by way of the isthmus, and then the United States and Canada, in their constant search for food.
Every moment of every hour the giant invaders were moving over the plains and through the skies of South America, leaving behind them a waste and a shambles. But every minute of this precious respite was used to the best advantage by the Professor. His vision, foresight, energy and resource was like a cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night. At a moment when all earthly governments were breaking down, he enlisted the resources of the United States government in his cause; since without it, even with his own great wealth and scientific ability, he would have been helpless.
On the plateau where the professor’s great research plant stood, a strange and wonderful town began to rise. A concrete wall, two hundred and fifty feet high and ten miles square, arose at an unbelievable speed. A mould or frame of metal and wood was set up, and the fluid concrete poured in and left to harden. Within the enclosure there were vast storehouses erected, and filled with an amazing variety of things from seeds to huge explosive shells. Large-calibre guns were mounted upon the walls by officers of the United States army, who were among the thousands who begged to be allowed to become members of the new community. Areas were laid out for cultivation; and small but efficient shops were built for the manufacture of such things as the foresight of the Professor told him that we should need. The trim, ship-shape factory in which the professor planned to build airplanes was a delight to my heart.
Stretching from wall to wall, and supported by strong metal posts, was a roof of great steel bars; and, when we saw the great hunting wasps drop from the sky upon their prey, we thanked whatever gods may be for the genius of our leader who could foresee such things and provide against them. For this grating could be electrified, and then woe to the flying dragon who alighted there! About the wall too, at a distance of one hundred feet, we erected a fence of these iron bars. This, like the gridiron roof, was connected with our great dynamos and, in the days that followed, thousands of monsters met their deaths there.
The First Encounter
THIS incredible feat was the only purposeful activity going on upon the face of the world at that time. Even in America, our leader was the only soul with the faith, energy, and resources necessary to carry out such a project. Truly, in all the world, and throughout all time, there was never a stranger city than that which we built at the command of the Professor, and called “Endurance”.
Thousands, hearing that this ark of safety was being erected, asked that they, too, might be allowed to join the ranks of those who were doing the work. Thousands called, but few were chosen. The professor sadly, but firmly, sent away all those who could not demonstrate their fitness to join our ranks. Each applicant must show great training and ability in some branch of man’s knowledge in order to be admitted; and so it was that there came into our community experts in nearly every field of man’s far-flung empire of science. Artisans, as well, were chosen, and truly, there was never a better-manned town than ours.
Once we were interrupted by an attack of fear-crazed men who thought to take from us by force the town which they themselves had been too lazy or short-sighted to build. The ranks of the attackers were filled with those who had been refused admittance, and led by thugs and desperadoes who were far better dead. The attack came; but it had been foreseen, and a rain of machine-gun bullets and shrapnel took the heart from the cowardly rabble, and taught all others that the men of Endurance could give and take hard knocks, and that the city to which we had pledged our lives, we would defend with the last drop of our blood.
All earthly governments were breaking down, being unable to cope with the situation. In the areas where the insects had already come, the only government that man now possessed were new despotisms. For on the sites of once great cities, at the tops of mountains or great crags, on islands and some other easily defensible spots, there sprang up communities of furtive hunted men who lived under the rule of one or more strong self-willed individuals. This happened in America as well when the insects began to arrive. But, not having had the foresight to prepare for the contingency as had our leader, they faced two terrible futures. Either they would be wiped out by starvation, privations, and the raids of the hunting monsters, or being slightly more fortunate, they might survive in a state of semi-barbarism.
The horde of giant insects swept as harmlessly about our citadel, as the waves of the flood about the ark of Noah. All over the countryside, death and horror reigned; but within our ark of safety, there was life and security.
I well remember the day on which we saw the first of the monsters. Airplane scouts who had volunteered for the service ranged far and wide seeking the first signs of the enemy. Day after day their radioed assurances of safety reached us—and then, early one morning, the watchers on duty at the radio were startled by the announcement that a flock of flying monsters had been sighted. “Stand by to receive us,” the message ended.
The news spread like flame through ripe hay-fields, within our walled city, and thousands of eager eyes watched the far horizons. Suddenly, one—two—three—planes came speeding over the low hills which rose where sky and earth met. On, on, they winged their way, and soon were circling down to a safe landing. A section of our barred roof had been arranged to open and close automatically. From the opening thus made, an inclined plane ran down to the ground within. The planes having landed safely on our roof, taxied over to the aperture and slid slowly down the long incline to safety.
They had hardly accomplished this, when the radio began shrieking the distress call, and we discerned our two remaining planes on the far horizon, pursued by what appeared at first to be great dirigibles. Nearer and nearer they approached, and we discerned that the pursuers were a kind of gigantic beetle, horrible to behold, and well over a hundred and fifty feet long (as we later discovered.) There were five of them, and the terrific roaring of their wings filled the heavens with their noise.
Our planes could not help each other, for they were outnumbered more than two to one. They were spitting lead from their machine guns at a terrific rate—but were learning that such missiles had little effect upon these monsters. The nearer plane shook off its pursuer for a moment and in that respite the pilot coolly brought his machine down upon our roof; but before our men could open the aperture again the air monster had dropped upon his prey and begun tearing him with its great jaws and claws. The spectacle was horrifying! But, since we saw that our friend was assuredly dead, the professor gave word for the great electric current to be turned on. The moment the great switch closed, the dragon on our roof began to writhe and roll. The relentless current did its work well and, for the first time we had killed one of our enemies.
The second plane was not more fortunate. Three of the monsters hemmed it about, and one hovered above it. They followed its twistings and turnings with the tenacity of death and, suddenly, two of them closed in upon it. Down, down they swung in dizzying spirals. Then the three hurtling bodies seemed to poise themselves in the air for a moment, while a hot scroll of flame wrapped its blazing folds about them. Three blazing forms crashed to the ground while we watched spellbound, our hearts drenched with inward tears.
A series of sharp detonations indicated that the gunners on the walls had not lost sight of their new enemies; but at this strange sound the two surviving insects took themselves away. The first battle had ended.
But the struggle was not won; indeed, it had barely begun. From that day forward, each rising sun looked upon new monsters which had flown, crept, or crawled, into the surrounding country. All day long the sound of cannon reverberated from the walls; as the fighters on the watch for enemies warded off a new attack, or carried on a long deadly battle.
Gradually, however, the monsters learned that there was little to be gotten near our walls but hard knocks and sudden death—and the hordes passed on to less fortunate communities. But the country round about was filled with the creeping insects, and the skies were always black with those that ruled the air.
Punishment for Traitors
THE human mind is infinitely adaptable—and what A had been a horror and a nightmare became merely a grim fact of existence. We came to accept these monsters as a part of our daily lives. A danger and a menace we knew them to be it is true, but within our walled and sheltered city, we felt ourselves to be safe. To see a thousand-pound, diabolical hunting wasp, or a score of them for that matter, go roaring across the sky, caused no more terror to us, after a time, than a veteran soldier feels concerning a flying shell which he knows to be passing well over and beyond him. I have seen as many as forty fifty-foot centipedes, digging about among the decaying bodies of the monsters which had fallen to the skill of our gunners or been electrocuted by the current in the great iron fence about our walls. This horrible sight attracted no attention, from the scores of men and women who were busy on the walls; yet, a few weeks earlier, the very sight of the monsters caused women to faint and men to lose the blood from their faces.
As the years passed, by dint of steady, willing work, and splendid leadership, our position was made secure. Only once had internal dissension threatened our security. Certain base fellows, feeling that the danger from without was over, sought to put themselves into power over us, by force of arms. For a time a fearful battle raged within our walls; but those who were on the side of right far outnumbered those who would have enslaved us to their greed, lust, and craving for power.
In the end, we conquered our traitorous enemies, and with these the professor dealt ruthlessly. He judged them, and sentenced them to a just death. One by one (there were nearly a thousand of them) they were forced to leave the safe enclosure whose shelter they had violated. They wept and wailed—but the professor was implacable. “I cannot jeopardize this last outpost of Man to your conspiracies,” he said: “You sought to enslave your brothers at a time when all were working for the public good. How can you expect mercy? Mercy! I would sooner give mercy to one of those monsters who await you out there. They, at least, only follow their instincts; you have followed the dictates of your black, hard hearts!” And he signalled his men to go on with the eviction.
Dusk was coming on and, before darkness had long settled, cries and screams—such as I hope never to hear again—told us that the wretched beings who would not live with us as brothers had met a fitting end. The giant insects that roam at night had found them; and the end of those men was as terrible a thing as has yet happened in this world.
After this, nothing within disturbed the even tenor of our ways. The life of man went on. There was marriage and giving in marriage; there was birth and there was death. We loved, quarreled, made friends and enemies as men have done since the world was young. But, because of the great fight which was claiming our best from each one of us, there grew up among us a splendid spirit of co-operation. Men came easily to see in those hard days that, if the individual were to survive, he must work hard with others for the common good. Rivalry and dislike, there sometimes was; but, underlying all, was a steady current of good will and comradeship that was to make of the world, some day, a nobler and sweeter place.
CHAPTER III
The Expedition
SHORTLY after the events narrated above, our leader called his lieutenants together for a great council. “Our position here is secure,” he said: “We have held this post inviolate for over ten years, and we are stronger than we were at the outset. We produce all that we need, and we are equipped to manufacture those things which our development demands. We have all manner of engineers and artisans in our ranks to man them.
“The material and munitions which the bounty of the United States government enabled us to store up is hardly beginning to show signs of being used; and, by the time it does begin to diminish, we shall have obtained more from sources which our gallant airmen have already marked for us.
“It is time that we thought of spreading the light of civilization which we have kept burning here. In any other age, the work we are doing here would be like a dim, flickering candle precariously burning in a desolate storm-swept waste. We should be utterly cut off from all other men. Already the roads have fallen into disrepair, and each succeeding year will see them worse. Railroads are, of course, just as bad, even for foot travel, and even if the engines are not already rusted beyond repair, the tracks will not bear them. In any other age, we could not travel a hundred miles without the greatest difficulty. But thanks to man’s great friend, the airplane, we are not so situated. We can fly swiftly and far across the trackless sky to every point of the earth.
“I have said that the task that now lies before us is that of spreading to our surviving brethren in all parts of this continent, and then to all parts of this stricken world, the civilization that we have kept alight here. This will not be an easy task. All men and women who volunteer for this service will be taking their lives in their hands. You have seen, all of you, the fate that lies in wait for those who in these days go up into the air in ships. It will not always be so. I am now designing an airship which will, I hope, begin for us the great task of ridding the skies of our loathsome enemies. But the press and pressure of immediate duties hinders my progress, and that ship can not be built for some time. Should we not, therefore, while waiting for the completion of this great ship, bestir ourselves to succor those wretched survivors of the catastrophe who must, here and there about us, be living in utter barbarism?
“Those of you who go on this journey may never re
turn; for the dragons of the sky are many and fierce, and we have nothing as yet to combat them. Therefore you must prove yourselves as wise as serpents, but you need not be, perforce, as harmless as doves. When flying, you may escape by rising to great altitudes; but eventually you must land—and that landing will be fraught with danger.
“Who volunteers,” he cried: “Who volunteers for a service that will be remembered as long as man remains on this planet?”
We had all risen during the concluding sentences of our leader, and were standing in military formation before him, in two long lines. In those days, our life was one of continual battle; and we had adopted a military way of life by common, and practically unconscious assent. It was so natural and right in those rough days to fight, that one came to look upon himself as primarily a fighter.
The professor repeated his question. “Who volunteers? Let those who will step four paces to the left.”
There was a ripple of lively movement in our ranks; but there was no little group of men standing off to the left when the ripple was over.
The Professor—a picture of amazement—asked incredulously, “What, not one?”
And in answer, our ranks cried in chorus, “No, not one, but all of us! We have all moved to the left!”
There was a far larger number of volunteers than could be used for the first expedition, because of both the limited number of planes, and the comparatively small area to be covered.