Air Trust

by George Allan England

  CHAPTER XXXVI.

  THE STORMING OF THE WORKS.

  Plunged into the abyss of mist and flame by the attack of the Air Trust_epervier_, Gabriel had abandoned himself for lost. Death, mercifullyswift, he had felt could be his only fate; and with this thought hadcome no fear, but only a wild joy that he had shared this gloriousbattle, sure to end in victory! This was his only thought--this, and aquick vision of Catherine.

  Then, as he hurtled down and over, whirling drunkenly in the void, allclear perception left him. Everything became a swift blur, a rushingconfusion of terrible wind, and lurid light, and the wild roar of myriadexplosions.

  Came a shock, a sudden checking of the plunge, a long and rapid glide,as the DeVreeland stabilizer of the machine, asserting its automaticaction, brought it to a level keel once more.

  But now the engine was stopped. Gabriel, realizing that some chancestill existed to save his life, wrenched madly at his levers.

  "If I can volplane down!" he panted, sick and dizzy, "there may yet behope!"

  Hope! Yes, but how tenuous! What chance had he, coasting to earth atthat low level, to avoid the detonating bombs, the aerial shrapnel beinghurled aloft, the poisonous gas, the surface-fire?

  Here, there and yonder, terrific explosions were shattering the echoes,as the Air Trust batteries swept the fog with their aeroplane-destroyingmissiles. Whither should he steer? He knew not. All sense of directionwas lost, nor could the compass tell him anything. A glance at thebarometric gauge showed him an altitude of but 850 feet, and this wasdecreasing with terrible rapidity.

  Strive as he might, he could not check the swift descent.

  "God send me a soft place to fall on!" he thought, grimly, stillclinging to his machine and laboring to jockey it under control.

  Close by, a thunderous detonation crashed through the mist. His machinereeled and swerved, then plunged more swiftly still. All became vague,to Gabriel--a dream--a nightmare!

  _Crash!_

  Flung from the seat, he sprawled through treetops, caught himself, fellto a lower limb, slid off and landed among thick bushes; and throughthese came to earth.

  The wrecked 'plane, whirling away and down, fell crashing into the riverthat rushed cascading by, and vanished in the firelit mist.

  Stunned, yet half-conscious, Gabriel presently sat up and pressed hisright hand to his head. His left arm felt numb and useless; and when hetried to raise it, he found it refused his will.

  "Where am I, now, I'd like to know?" he muttered. "Not dead, anyhow--not_yet_!"

  A continuous roar of explosions shuddered the air, mingled with thebooming of the mighty Falls. Shouts and cheers and the rattle ofmachine-guns assailed his ear. The glare of the search-lights, throughthe mist and steam, was darkened momentarily by thick, greasy coils ofsmoke, shot through by violent flashes of light as explosions tookplace.

  Gabriel struggled to his feet, and peered about him,

  "Still alive!" said he. "And I must get back into the fight! That's allthat matters, now--the fight!"

  He knew not, yet, where he was; but this mattered nothing. His machinehad, in fact, fallen near the river bank, in the eastern section ofProspect Park, beyond the Goat Island bridge--this region of the Parkhaving been left outside the fortifications, in the extension of the AirTrust plant.

  The trees, here, had saved his life. Had he smashed to earth a hundredyards further north, he would have been shattered against high walls androofs.

  Still giddy, but sensing no pain from his injured left arm, Gabriel madeway toward the scene of conflict. He knew nothing of how the tide ofbattle was going; nothing of his position; nothing as to what men hewould first meet, his comrades or the enemy.

  But for these considerations he had no thought. His only idea, fixed andgrim, was "The fight!" Dazed though he still was, he nerved himself foraction.

  And so, pressing onward through the livid glare, through the nightshattered by stupendous detonations, he drew his revolver and broke intoa run.

  Strange evidences of the battle now became evident. He saw an unexplodedgrenade lying beside a wounded man who grasped at him and moaned withpain. Over a wrecked motor-car, greasy smoke was rising, as it burned.Louder shouting drew him down a path to the left. Masses of movingfigures became dimly visible, through the mist. And now, stabs of firepierced the confusion and clamorous night.

  Gabriel jerked up his revolver, as he ran, the terrible weapon shootingbullets charged with hydrocyanic-acid gas.

  A man rose before him, shouting.

  Gabriel levelled the weapon; but a glimpse of red ribbon in the other'scoat brought it down again.

  "Comrade!" cried he. "Where's the attack?"

  The other pointed.

  "Gabriel! Is that you?" he gasped, staring.

  "Yes! I fell--machine smashed--come on!"

  "Hurt?"

  "No! Arm, maybe. No matter! God! What's this?"

  Toward them a sudden swirl of men came sweeping, stumbling, shouting, inpandemonium.

  "Our men!" cried Gabriel, starting forward again. "We're being driven!Rally, here! Rally!"

  Beyond, a louder crackling sounded. Here, there, men plunged down. Theretreat was becoming a rout!

  Yelling, Gabriel flung himself upon the men.

  "Back there!" he vociferated. "Back, and at the walls! Come on, boys,now! Come on!"

  His voice, well known to nearly all, thrilled them again with newdetermination. A shout rose up; it swelled, deepened, roared to majesticvolume.

  Then the tide turned.

  Back went the fighting men of the great Revolution. back at themachine-guns, mounted in the breached walls.

  Gabriel was caught and whirled along in that living tide. He foundhimself at its crest, its foremost wave. Behind him, a roaring, rushingriver of men. Before the Inner Citadel.

  Gathering speed and weight as it rolled up, the wave broke like an oceansurge over a crumbling dyke.

  Down went the Air Trust gunners and the guns, down, down toannihilation!

  Through the breach, foaming and swelling with irresistible power burstthe tides of victory.

  Silenced now were the Trust guns. The steam-jets had none to man them.Far aloft, a last explosion told the death story of the final_epervier_.

  Here and there, from windows and corners of the wrecked and blazingplant, a little intermittent firing still continued; but now the heartsof these Air Trust defenders--scabs, thugs and scourings of theslum--had turned to water, in face of the triumphant army of the workingclass.

  They fled, those mercenaries, and all the ways and innerstrongholds--such as still were left--now lay open to Gabriel and hiscomrades.

  Lighted by the blazing buildings and the vast fire torch of anoxygen-tank off to eastward, they stormed the final citadel, the steeland concrete laboratories, heart and soul and center of the hellishworld-conspiracy.

  Stormed it, as it began to blaze and crumble; stormed it, in search ofFlint and Waldron, would-be murderers of the world.

  Stormed it, only to see Herzog gnash his teeth upon the flask, andfall, and die; only to know that there, within the rock-hewn,steel-lined tanks, below, their enemies had still outwitted them!

  The swift onrush of the fire drove the victors back.

  "_Out, comrades! Out of here_!" shouted Gabriel, facing the attackers.

  None too soon. Hardly had they beaten a retreat, back into the vastcourtyard again, strewn with the dead, when a second oxygen tankexploded, overwhelming the laboratory building with tons of flyingsteel.

  Leaping toward the zenith, a giant tongue of flame roared heavenward. Sointense the heat had now become, that the solid brick and concretewalls, exposed to the direct verberation of the flame, began to crackand crumble.

  Gabriel ordered a general retreat of the attacking army. Victory waswon; and to stay near that gushing tornado of flame, with new explosionsbound to occur as the other oxygen tanks let go, must mean annihilation.

  So the triumphant Army of the Proletaire fell ba
ck and back stillfurther, out into the wrecked and trampled Park, and all through thecity, where shattered buildings, many of them ablaze, and broken trees,dead bodies, smashed ordnance and chaos absolute told something of thestory of that brief but terrible war.

  Ringed round the perishing ruins of the Air Trust they stood, thesemute, thrilled thousands. Silence fell, now, as they watched theroaring, ever-mounting flames that, whipped by the breeze, crashedupward in long and cadenced tourbillions of white, of awfulincandescence.

  And the river, ever-hurrying, always foaming on and downward to itstitanic plunge, sparkled with eerie lights in that vast glow. Its voiceof thunder seemed to chant the passing and the requiem of the Curse ofthe World, Capitalism.