Fifteen minutes later, and Zolan and the crippled Phillips were crouched behind one massive stone balanced over a pile of clearly unstable rock. Earth and gravel collapsed around them, and Zolan snorted with satisfaction. He had been right; with luck and timing, half the mountainside could be sent tumbling on top of the Redeyed bastards.
"What would happen if a Stinger got caught under this?" Zolan asked with sudden concern.
Phillips laughed weakly. Zolan could see that he was bleeding again from his decapitated arm.
"Don't worry about them," Phillips assured him, "You couldn't hurt one if you tried. Hard as diamonds."
Zolan grunted and stared at the Stingers below. Already the fires started in the mutant forest, and along the valley perimeter were dying out quickly. The glow from this aftermath was now more dim than the more penetrating one from the Redeye horde a hundred yards beyond. Dejected, Zolan settled himself against the enormous boulder he would use to trigger the avalanche, and glanced at the sick Phillips next to him.
He suddenly remembered something. Reaching into his coat, Zolan picked out the small flask he always kept for emergencies. He twisted off the cap and swallowed. The combination of newly injected Stinger venom and home-made whisky made Zolan's head spin.
"Try this," Zolan offered the bottle to Phillips. The astronaut took the flask and followed Zolan's example. "Whoah! What is that? Rocket fuel?"
Zolan smacked his lips and snickered.
"Something like that," he said, and took the flask back from Phillips. "Won't save your life, maybe, but it sure can't hurt your soul."
Phillips chuckled briefly, then held Zolan's eyes to his own. "I wish we would have had more time."
Zolan understood.
"So do I," he said unhappily. There was really nothing further to be said along these lines.
Phillips smiled tiredly, then glanced up the slope of the mountain. Thalick was on his way back down again, having deposited his load of humans in Green Belly's care a thousand feet higher.
"Poor Thalick," Phillips reflected solemnly, "he hasn't been the same since..." he didn't finish the sentence, as his own troubled thoughts intruded.
Zolan didn't press further. He knew the old man was thinking of Valry again.
Suddenly, a piercing scream shattered the air. It was followed by a thousand just like it.
Zolan jumped to his feet and stared into the valley. The Redeye force was now moving forward.
Then star nor sun shall waken,
Nor any change of light:
Nor sound of waters shaken,
Nor any sound or sight:
Nor wintry leaves nor vernal,
Nor days nor things diurnal;
Only the sleep eternal
In an eternal night.
FORTY-SIX
Stonepainter worked furiously, though his fingers trembled with terror as he could hear the whine of the Redeye pack approaching. He could have left hours ago with the rest of the tribe, watching the final battle from the safety of a thousand-foot high ledge overlooking the valley.
But he had chosen to stay.
He did not know why, for Stonepainter was not so mentally degenerate as to fail to understand what fate now lay in store for him. By remaining the low caves near the desert, he had sacrificed his chance to live awhile longer with his family on the slopes above. A compelling demon within him had not allowed him to depart. He knew that the drawings must be completed.
He was almost done now; a few minutes more, that would be all. If only the Stingers could give him that, then all would be well. .
Stonepainter's tools were strewn on the cave floor. They consisted of several, specially cut rocks and an assortment of colored minerals which he had carefully piled into sections nearby, and were nearly all depleted. This wasn't important; he would have enough for the finishing touches.
The small fire he had built near the entrance of the cave had filled the place with smoke. It was also billowing outside, and as a result, Stonepainter could only see a few feet beyond the exit. Still, the hellish intensity of the approaching vampires eyes was not completely blotted out. They would get to him before long; not a second could be lost.
The wall tableaus now finished with a new character added; the strange man who had arrived with Thalick earlier that evening. Stonepainter had never seen bifocals before, so his crude replication of them made the man who was wearing them look almost comical. Stonepainter had drawn this new player carrying the one called Phillips in his arms and looking to the sky. Beneath his feet was what appeared to be a globe; Stonepainter would not have understood what a planet was, but his eye for detail had allowed him to imitate the form of one with spectacular detail. Like a good sketch artist, he had copied exactly what he had seen in his minds eye, without worrying about the reasons behind such visions. Though it seemed somewhat ludicrous to Stonepainter, the big man was happy nevertheless. Without the strange visions, he was sure he never would have come up with such colorful ideas.
One detail remained, and it was here Stonepainter paused with wonder. This part of his mental picture-making was the most difficult to duplicate. He scooped up a handful of crushed chalk in his palm and felt it crumble between, his fingers.
The right medium he possessed -- but how to apply it was turning into a real problem indeed. .
He had heard no sound near the entrance of the cave; perhaps, he was too involved with his work. The screaming unearthliness of the nearby Redeyes had suddenly turned into an almost unimportant backdrop of life; what mattered, was the completion of his tableau.
Stonepainter's eyes widened in surprise. And then his entire body snapped taught, as the Jumper claw lanced through his back, severing the spinal cord and going out through his chest. The man's jerked up in reflex, sending a shower of chalk powder splattering against the wa:1 that blotted out a quarter of his final painting.
A scream tore from his throat that was racked more with despair than pain, as he saw his precious creation marred at this last, agonizing moment of his life. The Jumper behind him remained still, growling happily to itself as it held Stonepainter helpless like a pinned fish.
After the first flash of shock and pain, Stonepainter's body seemed to go numb; in fact, he felt almost drunk as he flayed helplessly against the rat's claws imp ling him. But just as quickly - and mercifully - Stonepainter twitched from the final death knell. As he died, he succeeded in making one desperate slice with his hand, smearing the chalk powder on the wall. Rays of white beamed down in a starfish pattern, just barely touching the figure of the bifocaled man.
Stonepainter laughed; his time had not been wasted after all. His eyes closed happily, A moment later, and the short-lived prophet quieted forever.
The Jumper disposed of the carcass with a careless toss. Several accompanying vampires descended upon Stonepainters body, ripping it to a bloody pulp. The rat snapped at the nearby fire lapping at the cold rock of the wall. Distracted, the beast stared at the intriguing colors and patterns of Stonepainter's designs. It sniffed at the tableaus and then snarled dumbly. It, too, clawed at the pulp of chalk Stonepainter had cast against the wall, further streaking the white residue into descending rays that covered over the figure of the new man, and the world he stood over.
Like Stonepainter himself, the rat could not hope to comprehend the weaving scrawls it was studying; a moment later and it lost all interest, returning to the more important business of helping the vampires rend Stonepainter's corpse.
The small fire Stonepainter had built now flickered weakly. In another second, it disintegrated completely. The cave was dark now, save for the Redeyes' infernal stare.
Another glow, far fainter than even the small leftovers of Stonepainters embers began to radiate outwards. It came from around the lump or chalk on the wall that had been Stonepainter's final and inadvertent artistic touch to the tableaus. Neither the Jumper nor the Redeyes took notice of it.
Before the night finished, however, it would be aligh
t that would blind them.
* * *
The ground became black with fury.
Like some enormous, crushing wave rushing for a quiet beachhead, the Redeye mass of death flooded through the narrow entrance of the tribe's valley. The Stingers were ready to meet them, claws extended; tails hooked and twitching with awesome menace.
However, one insightful and resigned glance from those on higher ground foretold the obvious fact that the stalwart allies to mankind were hopelessly outnumbered.
A hell born shriek echoed against the cliff walls. Eight Stingers threw themselves into the center of the seemingly endless glut of vampires pouring out from the desert. Hundreds of the things still advanced as the firebreak latched on to them, and burned them alive. Hundreds more fell to the Thelerick might within minutes, as claws, legs and tails were wielded by the giant aliens with deft accuracy and speed.
But for as many Redeyes that succumbed to such force, tenfold their number was almost as quickly replaced. Five minutes had not passed before all eight Stingers in the valley, unscratched and unharmed, were nevertheless forced to retreat deeper into their territory to eliminate much of the enemy that had managed to sneak past them in the first wave of attacks.
Zolan could see that his avalanche idea was going to be needed earlier than expected. At the base of the slope, some hundred or so of the monsters were already attempting to climb upwards.
"This is it," Zolan announced to Phillips, who was now so weak from blood loss that he was barely able to stand. "Help me get this thing moving."
Phillips threw his feeble strength against the boulder along with Zolan. As expected, the rock did not need much in the way of force to send it on its way. Toppling over, it rolled away from the two men, and connected with a larger rock wall two hundred feet below. The resulting conflagration of stone and earth produced several tons of landslide. Seconds later, and the panicked cry from the doomed Redeyes echoed up to where Zolan and Phillips were positioned.
But as the dust cleared, both men could see that their ploy was turning over only temporary satisfaction. Great numbers of vampires sped passed the battling Stingers and now approached the ruinous mound of rubble which buried their cohorts. They, too, were not going to be so easily deterred from climbing the mountain.
"We've had it," Zolan pointed out tonelessly, as fifty pairs of hate filled eyes stared upwards. Phillips could only cough in agreement.
The vampires at the front, meanwhile, did not employ any kind of strategy that provided for possible retreat if things went wrong. Unbothered by the slaughter of so many of their kind, they simply plowed forward with blind, devoted madness. They had the eerie confidence of the faith filled or insane, dumbly assured that victory would be theirs in the end. Their goal was a ridiculously simple one, though by no means unobcessing: forget the big aliens with the claws and concentrate on the helpless men on the mountain.
It was a simple task - a tribute to the genius who held sway over their destiny - and one which the Redeye horde appeared to be executing with satisfactory deliberation.
Wave after wave of them raced ahead, not even attempting to engage their much larger adversaries, the Thelericks, in personal combat. To Zolan, watching nearly five hundred feet above the valley floor, the vampire mass seemed almost pitiful to behold. So many of them were crushed by the defending Stingers in seconds, or were trampled by the larger Jumpers beginning to enter the valley. Zolan's compassion quickly passed as he spotted the rats; after first hand experience, he knew just how dangerous these giant vermin could be.
The Jumpers seemed to appear out of nowhere. A few minutes earlier, and it appeared that the Redeye attack was like any other previous raid, only more so. But with the coordinated introduction of the rats, the battle took on a new and impressive credibility. Bounding over their smaller allies, the Jumpers, numbering ten to twenty, engaged the busy Stingers at once. So quick was their action, that the Stingers were momentarily caught off guard. It was in these precious seconds of pandemonium that allowed a dangerous number of Redeyes to filter through the Thelerick bulwark.
Thalick had reached the base of the mountain and could immediately discern the extent of damage. Already, close to two hundred frothing Redeyes were spread across the half-mile wide slopes of the mountain, and were beginning their ascent. Green Belly was still trying to move straggling tribes people of the lower regions of the slope, so Thalick could see that no assistance could be expected here.
The front line was hopelessly cluttered. Thalick remained near the base of the mountain, and began picking off those Redeyes that had filtered past his associates. This time, it was the Redeyes who were startled by the descending scourge, and before they could struggle dimwittedly for a way to save themselves, Thalick was slashing and smashing ten at a time with his enormous bulk.
Zolan motioned to Phillips.
"We'd better start up now. The Stingers will be too busy to help us," he pointed out.
Zolan looped Phillips' arm around his shoulder and began to stumble upwards. Green Belly was several hundred feet ahead, approaching a plateau of sorts before the mountain angled more vertically. The Stinger was leaving people here for the moment, in an effort to rescue those men that had remained in the valley till the last constructing the firebreaks. Dumping off his first backload, he filed around himself and descended the slopes again. Zolan waved to the rescuing Stinger, but Green Belly was more intent on saving those unfortunates that were still so dangerously close to the mountain base.
"Let him go," Phillips explained through painful gasps. "He's got enough to worry about."
Zolan turned around suddenly and growled at four sets of ret-hot eyes racing towards them.
"So do we," he said, lowering Phillips to the ground and looking around himself for a weapon. He had only turned his back for a second when he felt the horrible, snarling weight on top of him.
The vampire was deceptively strong and it was all Zolan could do to keep the oblong head and razor fangs away from his throat. Slippery and quick, the thing was able to take bloody swipes with its claws at the rest of his body. Screaming and snarling himself, Zolan succeeded in throwing the beast off of him. He looked quickly to Phillips; the old astronaut had not bee as lucky in warding off the other Redeye. The vampire had its head burrowed into the man's chest, oblivious to Zolan's approach.
Zolan had time to drag the vampire off Phillips, but not before his own opponent had made another leap onto his back. This time, Zolan's spectacles went flying off into space as he held one frothing demon in his hands while another stabbed at his back.
Suddenly, it was over. The Redeye made a yelping sound and then vanished. Zolan was too busy to consider this minor miracle, though; he still had Phillips' vampire to contend with. Breaking out of his grasp, it lunged for his thigh.
Zolan screamed and went down again. Feeling the ground for anything that could be construed as weapon like, his hand found a sharp stone. Grabbing the wide part of the rock, he brought it down full force on the Redeye's small, spongy head. The vampire twitched for a second, then allowed its jaws to go slack as it rolled away from Zolan in a confused, but unfortunately, far from fatal daze.
Zolan could now see what had become of the other Redeye. howled with joy as he saw the familiar figure of a close friend fly above him.
The mother Birdog finished with dispensing the Redeye in a similar fashion as she had earlier disposed of a certain Jumper that had nearly cost Zolan his life. She flapped back to where Zolan was waving. But she did not waste time in greeting; instead, she swooped down and caught the stunned Redeye in her claws, then disappeared into the darkness.
Zolan felt weak and shaky, not to mention sore from the gouging wounds of the vampires, but he was delighted that the Birdog had once again made a timely entrance. As he stared down the slope, he could see, however, that her rescue might not make a bit of difference in a few minutes time.
For the Stingers were backed up against the slope base, and the Re
deye masses showed no sign of diminishing. Hundreds now scrambled up the mountain towards Zolan and the helpless tribe a thousand feet above him.
Zolan crawled over to where Phillips lay, his attention alternately shifting from the valley to the sick man before him. Phillips' chest now had a pulpy gash across it, and he could see that yet more blood was being lost from the dying astronaut. There was nothing Zolan could do to help, but he did remember the Stinger venom. Green Belly was near the tribe ledge five hundred yards above; if he could get Phillips to him, then maybe the old man might still stand a chance.
"Phillips," Zolan whispered urgently, cradling the man's head in his own two bloody hands, "I've got to get you to a Stinger. Can you stand?"
Phillips was nearly comatose. He rolled over and struggled to his knees, but collapsed onto Zolan as he stood.
Zolan all at once heard an all too familiar shriek behind him. Ten Redeyes were hurtling their way towards them. Panicked, he looked around himself. No Birdog was in sight, and no other form of aid could be seen.
"Leave...me, Rzzdik," Phillips gurgled, blood trickling down both sides of his lips. "Alone...you ...can. . save. yourself. I'm... finished."
Zolan said nothing, but continued to grasp Phillips body and pull it along as he tripped and stumbled up the slope. The vampires howled behind him, but he dared not turn to stare. It was so dark, Zolan could barely see the ground in front of him. He only thought in terms of up; blind or not, "up" meant safety and protection.
Suddenly, he stopped. The small crevice ahead could be jumped by one man, but not by two. Zolan cursed, and lowered Phillips down.
More angry than afraid, Zolan twisted his head to all sides. Far below, he could see that the valley was a living, moving mass of Redeye. He could barely pick out an occasional Stinger amidst the frenzy. The glowing residue from the adjoining forest was dimming, which made visibility into the valley nearly as poor as it now was looking up the slope for the tribe ledge. He could see no more survivors of the tribe anywhere near the mountain base, which meant either Green Belly had been successful in transporting most of the people to the plateau, or the rest had simply been sucked up into the advancing sea of monsterdom.
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