by Henry Slesar
But one didn’t flee. A small animal, too small for wisdom, tugged at the resisting grass with his tiny mouth. A rumble came from the deep throat of the creature as he moved towards it.
Then he stopped.
His dragon’s head raised in the air, as if sensing something more important than this innocent target of his wrath. An implanted desire stirred within him, and he turned from the tiny animal and headed back towards the structures of the two-legged ones.
Vittorio grumbled at the pain in his back.
Each day, the soil of the farmland seemed to resist his efforts more and more. Today, his plow had struck a buried rock in the fields, and the blades, never too sharp for the unyielding ground, were now hopelessly in need of repair.
It had been a good life once, when he was young and strong and Maria was alive, and the stubbornness of the soil had seemed only a rightful challenge. But now he was old, and alone, and his back hurt.
In the barnyard, the mongrel dog he had taken for companionship, began to bark. The sound was an annoying yap, and he shouted:
“Silencio, Carlo!”
Still Carlo barked, and Vittorio muttered imprecations on the animal’s shaggy head. If he wasn’t so tired, he would have thrashed the beast into quiet. Not too hard, of course; just enough to silence him for the night. It was no use hurting your only friend.
Then he heard the squawking of the chickens in the hen house, and he shook his head in chagrin. That was the way of animals; one complained and the others must join the chorus. Perhaps they were not so different from people.
But when Vittorio heard the whinnying of the horses in the barn, he became curious.
He went to the window and peered through it. For a moment, he thought he saw a shadow cross the path of moonlight in the barnyard, a shadow bigger than a marauding fox.
He pulled on his boots, groaning at the effort, and then lifted his rusty shotgun from the wall. He took the coal oil lantern from the table, and went out into the night.
The creature walked into the building, its walls hung with strange objects of hide and wood and metal. There were piles of stuff like dried grass everywhere, and in the rear, two enclosures held more of the four-legged whinnying beasts it had encountered in the meadow. They too became overwrought at his presence, throwing themselves against the wooden pens in fright. Their neighing was hysterical; their hooves thundered against the stalls.
Then one of the horses broke from its prison, and went streaming out of the building. The others soon followed him, and the creature stood back and regarded their flight in puzzlement.
He moved further into the barn, and found sacks filled with peculiar grains. He ripped them open and overturned them, sniffing the contents, and turning away with a hiss of discontent.
Then a sack yielded a powdery substance. He scooped some into his three-taloned hands and put it to his mouth. He growled with pleasure at the taste, at the warmth it imparted to his complaining stomach. Contentedly, the creature dined on the yellowish powder from the farmer’s stores.
But his meal wasn’t to be peaceful.
A yapping, snarling, glowering animal was standing menacingly in the doorway, a small belligerent thing with fiery eyes and ridiculous short legs. It hesitated only for a moment, and then sprung to engage the creature in combat.
At first, the suddenness of the attack caught the creature off balance. Then it met the challenge with a roar of hatred.
The dog’s teeth tried to sink their way into the scaly throat of the thing from Venus; its claws raked the tough, hide viciously. But the sharp talons and unworldly strength of the creature soon took command. Broken and bleeding, the animal was torn from its grip and flung disdainfully in a corner of the building.
Vittorio came into the barnyard, just as the awful sounds of the death-struggle were fading away. He held his coal oil lantern high to shed a pool of light around his feet.
“Carlo!” he called. “Carlo!”
The dog didn’t respond. It was strange; he had never failed to heed Vittorio’s voice before.
He went to the barn.
“Hey, Carlo! What’s all the noise, eh, boy? What you got there, eh ? You catch yourself a nice big rat, Carlo? Carlo!”
He stepped inside, and the lantern’s gleam fell upon the animal's mutilated body.
The farmer stared at it in horror and disbelief, still not feeling a sense of loss, not willing to recognize that Carlo, faithful Carlo, was dead.
“Carlo,” he whispered. “I did not mean that, about the beating. That was old man’s talk . . .”
He was about to touch the body, when a sound in the loft drew his frightened attention.
The sight of the awesome, dragon’s head above him froze his features in terror.
“Don’t move,” a voice said behind him. “Back out very slowly.”
Vittorio’s old body couldn’t obey the command. He continued to stare at the monstrous creature that had come to roost in the straw of his loft, his eyes running with tears of grief for his lost friend, his heart pounding in superstitious dread of the monster.
“Easy, old man,” Colonel Calder said tightly. “Come away from there. Come out slowly.” Then fingers were touching Vittorio’s sleeve, and he finally reacted. He backed away from the frightful sight of the creature’s jaws, and then turned to see who had come to his rescue.
“Outside,” Calder said. “You, too, Dr. Uhl. We have to work this out.”
The civilian scientist gaped at his first look at the thing from Venus.
“Incredible!” he said. “Even after you told me, Bob —I could never have believed
“We’ll talk about it outside,” Calder repeated tensely. He stretched out his arms, his eyes fixed on the thing in the farmer’s loft, pushing the men outside the barn.
When they were all out, he shut the door carefully, and turned to the Commissario.
“The creature must be captured alive, Commissario. That is our main task. I saw a wagon outside; perhaps your men could bring it into the barn.”
The police chief waved to his men. “11 carreto! Pronto!”
“And we’ll need a pole, a sharp wooden pole.”
“Una pala—subito!”
Dr. Uhl went to the door of the barn, his expression awed. “I’ve had nightmares in my time,” he said. “But never anything like this. Were there many such creatures on Venus, Bob?”
“Hundreds, perhaps thousands. It’s hard to say, Dr. Uhl; we had so little time to explore the planet. But from what we saw of them, we figured that they’re really not ferocious—only when provoked. It’s my guess that the poor dog attacked first.”
“Perhaps Venus is going through its prehistoric period now, just as Earth had to. The only resemblance I can find is to a tyrannosaurus, or some such beast. Could that be the answer?”
“Maybe so,” Calder said. “And who can say what they’ll evolve eventually ? Maybe something better than Man, something that won’t be terrified of anything just because of its ugliness . . .”
Behind them, the Commissario was urging on his Carbinieri, who were pushing the farmer’s hay wagon towards the barn door. They backed it up to the doorway, steering the ancient vehicle by its wagon tongue.
“Good,” Calder said. He grasped the side of the wagon and shook it. “Not the sturdiest cage in the world for our friend, but I suppose it will have to do.”
“Signore—”
It was the old farmer, a long sharp-pointed wooden pole in his hand.
“Grazie,” Calder said.
“Signore, the dog, Car-
“Yes?”
The old man bowed his head. “Nothing ... I am saddened. The dog, it was only a mongrel, and it was lazy, not good for much. But Carlo was my friend, Signore. This thing in the barn. What will be the end of all this?”
“You won’t have to worry about it,” Calder said crisply, taking the pole from his hands. “Exactly what I need. I’m going to try to prod the creature into the wagon. If I su
cceed, get ready to slam the tailgate closed.”
Dr. Uhl said: “Can I help.”
“No, just slam the gate in time.” His face hardened. “I have to capture it alive,” he said flatly. “Alive and unhurt, Commissario.” He pointed to the police chief’s gun. “That means no shooting. Understand ?”
The Commissario nodded grimly, and wiped his face with his palm.
They opened the door, and cleared a path for the Colonel to enter the barn. He held the pole lightly beneath his arm, like a lancer going into battle, and walked slowly into the darkness.
The Carbinieri rolled the wagon in after him, and the men gathered at its side to watch the battle joined.
There was moonlight on the floor of the barn, and its beams cast an unearthly light on the scaly hide of the creature hiding in the loft. It was making ugly, warning noises in its throat.
Calder stopped in front of the beast, and lifted the pole into the air.
The creature snarled.
Calder reached out and prodded him slightly. A three-taloned hand slapped out, and the Colonel retreated quickly. Then he shoved the pole forward again, and once more the creature flailed at it.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Calder muttered. “If you could only understand . . .”
He raised the pole again.
The creature leaped!
Calder backed away hastily, stumbled on some slippery substance on the floor of the barn. He recovered just in time to keep the pole between the infuriated thing from Venus and himself.
It stood rigid, its eyes gleaming in the moonlight, its jaws parted and moist with bitterness and anger.
It moved swiftly to the right and to the left, its claws raking out in an effort to grasp the tantalizing pole. It couldn’t stop its rapid movement, couldn’t stop its elusive jabs at its body.
“Easy, easy,” Calder muttered, trying to force the beast towards the wagon.
The sounds in the creature’s throat were now awful to hear. The pole taunted it, and it could do nothing. It roared and grumbled, and slashed out helplessly. But slowly, the pole was pushing it backwards, back to the entrance of the building where the wooden prison awaited the beast.
The Commissario, Dr. Uhl, and the others crowded closer to the scene of the battle, sensing that the moment of ensnarement had almost come. Dr. Uhl’s face was a portrait of strain and tension; the Commissario, a man more used to violent deeds, merely looked worried.
Again, Calder prodded the creature towards the open gate of the wagon.
“Now!” Calder shouted.
Dr. Uhl sprang forward to ready the gate, to slam it shut before the creature could bolt away. But his action came a second too late; the creature lunged in the direction of the spectators.
Vittorio, the old farmer, flung his hands up in fear, and his lantern slipped from his fingers.
“Look out!” Calder cried.
Vittorio, crazed with fright, threw himself towards the wall of the barn. His fingers closed around the handle of a pitchfork, and he waved it in defense. The creature came after him, and Calder cursed at the farmer’s interference.
“Put that thing down!” he barked. “We’re doing alright —it’s just a matter of—”
The distraction was all that the beast from Venus needed. With a swoop of its strong right arm, it swept the pole out of the Colonel’s hand and turned to flee. A Carbinier! raised his rifle, and Calder tore it from his grasp.
“No shooting! I said no shooting!”
But the rifle wasn’t the only weapon Calder had to fear. Vittorio, the old farmer, hate and loathing in his eyes, was raising the pitchfork high above his head, and with a shrill cry, he drove it deep into the back of the creature.
“No!” Calder cried, his voice almost a wail.
The creature emitted a yell of torment, a cry of the damned. He shook his scaly body until the piercing tines of the fork were loosened, and the implement thudded to the floor of the barn.
Then his taloned hands reached out in rage and grasped Vittorio. Its powerful arms closed around the old farmer, and they rolled together to the ground.
Calder jumped to the wall and grabbed a shovel, heading to help the old man. His screams were frightful; the creature was mauling Vittorio as mercilessly as he had destroyed Carlo, the dog.
Calder raised the shovel over his head, and beat at the scaly figure with all the strength in his arms. Nothing seemed to injure it, but the attack diverted the creature enough to cause him to release his death-grip on the old man’s throat. He snarled and whirled upon Calder. The Colonel raised the shovel again, and the creature lashed out.
Calder fell; the bandage on his arm reddened with blood once more. •
The Commissario had his gun drawn. Calder looked up at him helplessly, ready to shake his head no again. But then the creature turned once more to the mutilated old man
on the floor, and the Commissario fired.
It was the signal for general action by the Carbinieri. They pulled Calder away from the danger zone, and began pumping bullet’s in the creature’s direction. Firing, they backed out towards the entrance of the barn.
The Commissario swore loudly. “He is the devil himself! Bullets have no effect! He cannot be killed—”
The creature left the old man and snarled defiantly at the men and their weapons. Calder had a gun in his hand now, too, and he fired pointblank at the scaly beast, more in Experimentation than anger.
“Outside!” he shouted. “Try and lock him in the barn!”
They reached the entrance, and slammed the barn doors closed just as the creature was upon them. They could hear its talons ripping at the wood.
“It’s impossible!” Dr. Uhl said shakily. “Bullet’s can’t kill the thing, Bob! Maybe nothing can! That poor old man . . .”
“Hold the doors!” the Commissario shouted to his officers. “Bolt it!”
The doors of the barn creaked and bulged with the creature’s efforts to escape. The Carbinieri pushed against it with all their combined strength, but the beast inside seemed to equal it.
Then, suddenly, there was no pressure.
“What happened?” Dr. Uhl said.
Calder grimaced. “I don’t know. Maybe our friend’s given up—”
The loud crashing of timber around the other side told a different story.
“Around the side!” Calder yelled.
They went at a trot to the other side of the barn, in the . direction of the splintering sound.
“Damn!” Colonel Calder said.
The hole torn in the rotted wood was big enough to permit the escape of a creature twice the size of the beast from the far-off planet of Venus.
They stood around Dr. Leonardo’s trailer, watching the Commissario pace nervously back and forth, their faces weary and resigned.
Finally, the police chief halted his march, and turned to Colonel Calder.
“I do not like this thing,” he said flatly. “I do not like it!”
“I don’t like it much myself, Commissario,” the Colonel drawled. “But I don’t think we have any choice in the matter. We have to hunt the creature down, no matter how long it takes.”
Marisa appeared at the door of the trailer. She came forward to the Colonel’s side, but he ignored her.
“Colonel!”
“Yes?”
She looked at Calder and clucked her tongue as if he were a disobedient child.
“I hate to intrude on your precious private thoughts. But I’d like to change the bandages on your arm.”
He looked down at it, as if seeing the freshly-opened wound for the first time.
“I guess you’re right.”
“Thanks for the compliment. Come inside the trailer; I have bandages and tape.”
He followed her with some reluctance, his head turning in the direction of the escaped creature. Once inside, he sat wearily at the table as the girl went to work with efficient fingers, cutting away the soiled bandage with a scissors.
“You’re worried about what happened—about where the creature’s gone.”
“We’ll find him,” Calder said. “We’ve got to.”
“I feel partly responsible for the whole thing. If we knew what we had our hands on, we would have taken greater precautions. But grandfather always takes the academic approach to things.”
“It’s not your fault, or Dr. Leonardo’s. You couldn’t have known what the creature was. Even I wouldn’t have guessed that it could grow so rapidly.” He sighed in chagrin and exhaustion.
“I guess I haven’t been very considerate,” Marisa said. “I know you’ve got a lot on your mind; I shouldn’t have expected you to be overly polite.”
His face softened.
“If that’s an apology, I think it went in the wrong direction. All you’ve done is try to help, and all I’ve done is snarl at you. That’s one of my problems, bullheadedness, temper, whatever you call it. I got the official opinion on that from Uncle Sam.”
“I don’t understand it.”
“Skip it.” He smiled and touched her hand. “But when all this is over, maybe you’ll let me make a formal apology.
Over a table for two in a dark cafe—”
She smiled. “With a candle burning on the table?”
“And a bottle of wine . .
She put her tools back in the bag, thoughtfully.
“Is it true, what I heard them say? About this creature? Is it true that you found it on—Venus?”
“It’s true, all right.”
“Venus!” Her eyes glowed. “So far away . .
“More than twenty million miles,” Calder said. “But now I’m beginning to feel that twenty million miles isn’t really so far. When we go back—”
“Go back?” Marisa gasped. “You don’t mean that?”
“Of course I mean it. We must go back, or the whole trip was for nothing. All those lives, for nothing. Oh, I don’t mean just for the minerals and precious metals— they have importance, sure. But just to do it. Just to make the journey!”
He clenched his teeth, and she looked at him in alarm.