The John Russell Fearn Science Fiction Megapack

by John Russell Fearn

  With the coming of Summer, Price and Lucy went again for their holiday to the farmhouse in Somerset; but when they looked for the massive building on the hill they saw that it was missing. One afternoon they travelled to the actual site, and found only a patch of new grass where the building had been.

  Hugh Benton—Zal-Iked, the Mar­tian—had returned to his native planet.

  THE SILVER COIL

  A startling thing came out of the weird box Bill Dawlish found on Venus. What was its grim purpose?

  The fêting and speechifying were over—and Bill Dawlish looked heartily thankful for it.

  “Damned good job I don’t go to Venus and back every day!” he grinned, seated at the head of our re­union dinner table. “Spencer got to the Moon and back in 1970; I’ve made this trip ten years later. And in an­other ten years…?” He shrugged off the speculation and went on with his meal.

  There were four of us present—Bill Dawlish himself; his taciturn, strong-necked co-explorer Ralph Trent; myself—Bob Hansen, as the inventor of the machine that had done the trick; and Madge, my wife. Here we were in a little quartet, safe from the public gaze, in my quiet New Jersey home.

  “If the truth were told,” Ralph Trent commented presently, “Bill here is holding out on us. He found some­thing on the Dark Terminator of Venus that’s enormously valuable. So he says! But he won’t tell us what it is.”

  Bill grinned. “Not yet. Somebody might want to frisk it, and I want to see what happens first. Nobody’s to know a thing.”

  ‘It’ was a steel-bound box, heavily combination locked, which had gone up with the rest of Bill’s luggage to his room. I remembered how I won­dered at the time what the thing was…

  “To be frank, I don’t like it,” Ralph persisted, his dark eyes smoldering rather resentfully. “I shared the dan­gers with you; Bob here sank his money in the venture— What right have you to keep back anything?”

  I waited, rather surprised. Deep down I’d never really liked Ralph Trent. Courageous, yes—but aggres­sive, even sinister. That he was piqued by not knowing what was in the steel box from the Twilight Belt was plain.

  “I have the right of discovery,” Bill said quietly. “Before I show it to the world I want to be sure of something. Believe me, it’s for everybody’s good.”

  Ralph hesitated, then went on sul­lenly with his meal. Altogether, it seemed that Bill’s secret had cast a blight over the proceedings for the rest of the evening passed in merely mat­ter-of-fact anecdotes instead of ribald celebration. And so, finally, tired with the events of the day, we went to bed early.

  “Just what,” Madge asked me, yawning, “do you think he has found?”

  “Lord knows! Mineral probably. If it comes to that, anything from Venus is enormously valuable because of its very rarity. I guess he’s mak­ing too much out of nothing…”

  There the subject dropped and we composed ourselves for slumber—but about an hour later we were both jerked upright and awake by the most unearthly scream ringing through the quietness of the house. It had come from somewhere along the corridor where Bill and Ralph had their rooms.

  In an instant I was in my robe and slippers, and racing to the door. On the corridor gushed a flood of light. Bill’s door was wide open. I hurried to it, then stopped dead just inside the threshold. It was an appalling sight which met my eyes.

  There was Ralph Trent, fully dressed and pale as death, with a massive poker in his hand. On the floor in front of him, sprawled out with a ghastly wound across his forehead, lay poor Bill! That he was dead was instantly evident.

  With an effort I mastered myself, turned just in time to push Madge back into the corridor.

  “What—? Why?” she asked, startled.

  “Something pretty bad,” I told her tensely. “Murder, maybe. Go back. to the room—for the moment anyway…” Then I hurried back into Bill’s room, slammed and locked the door, grabbed Ralph’s arm and whirled him round.

  “In God’s name, Ralph, what have you done?”

  “Eh? What?” He looked at me as though he were half stunned. Then he eyed the poker stupidly. “I—I didn’t do anything,” he whispered.

  “Then what do you call this?” I snatched the poker from him, but as I gazed at it I noticed something. It was unmarked; not the least sign to show he’d committed violent assault with it.

  “I—I came in here to smash open that steel box,” he said, getting a grip on himself. “I know Bill took sleeping tablets tonight to steady his nerves after today’s activities: I figured he wouldn’t wake. That was why I brought the poker, to prise the lock. But—but the room was dark when I got in. I switched on the light—there was a horrible scream—and I saw Bill lying there…just like that. It’s true! You’ve got to believe it!”

  I never saw a man so desperately anxious to be credited. For a moment I stared at him grimly, then I dropped beside the poor mangled wreck that had been Bill. From this lower van­tage point my gaze shifted under the bed—

  A start shook me. That solid steel-bound box was blown apart! No other words can describe it. It looked as an old tin will look when hopelessly man­gled. And something more—the lid had been ripped clean off its hinges and flung several feet away.

  “Okay,” I breathed, getting up and clutching Ralph’s arm; “I believe you. You couldn’t have smashed the box like this anyway— But what in God’s name was in it? Certainly not explo­sive, else there’d have been a fire.”

  I tugged the box out. Inside was a curious smell, rather like ozone. And now, for the first time, we both noticed it had tiny air holes drilled along the top!

  “Whatever was in this was—alive!” I cried incredulously.

  Ralph caught the box in his strong hands. I saw his face go grim and set.

  “I never noticed the ventilation be­fore, either. I figured that Bill had gotten some special carbon deposits or something, and I felt I was right in de­manding a share. You, too. But some­thing alive! I never even suspected… The strength the thing must have had!” He paused, staring down at the dead body of Bill Dawlish.

  “We’d better send for the police?” he said finally.

  “Not until we know what really killed him,” I snapped. “It must be around some place. We’ll put him on the bed and then take a look—”

  The rest of my sentence froze off as from somewhere in the corridor we both heard Madge give a desperate scream. Like a shot I was through the doorway and pelting to our bedroom. I found her holding her throat in hor­ror, struggling to keep herself from fainting. When she saw me, and Ralph right behind me, she sank weakly into a chair.

  “What—what was it?” she ques­tioned hoarsely.

  “What did you see?” I demanded, shaking her forcibly. “Madge! What scared you so?”

  “Something—something like a silver coil,” she panted. “It moved at an in­credible speed—suddenly shot toward me from somewhere in the corridor, as I stood waiting for you to appear. I saw it gleaming. I screamed, jumped in here, and it went downstairs I think…” Fighting for composure she got to her feet again. “Bob, what was it?” she insisted.

  I glanced at Ralph sharply.

  “You know? You’ve seen Venus and we haven’t—”

  “If it’s what I think it is we’ve got to find it damned quick,” he broke in anxiously. “I told you the light was off when I got into Bill’s room; I re­member hearing a sound in the open doorway behind me as I switched the light on. It was this light in here that saved you, Madge,” he finished, look­ing at her. Then he hurried on, “No time for explanations now. We must track it down, and the first place to look is the icebox, I think…”

  He swung away, and I followed him after stopping only long enough to grab a revolver from the dressing table drawer. I motioned to Madge to stay behind, but she isn’t that sort of a girl. She tailed along beside me as I followed Ralph down the stair­case.

  We went cautiously, all lights full on—but no sounds came to us from the lower quarters
of the house. Not at first, that is—then as we neared the kitchen regions there was a distinct, odd buzzing sound. It was pretty close to unearthly, sounded like a strong-winged bird imprisoned in a tinder box. It made a noise that was crossed be­tween a rattle and a whir.

  “Easy!” Ralph cautioned, and edged his hand through the slightly open kitchen door, flicked on the light.

  At that things happened—incredible things! From inside the kitchen came a whizzing, whirring din, the sound of smashing crockery and glass—then something struck the inner side of the door with staggering force and came clean through the woodwork! We fell flat automatically and over our heads sailed a long, twisted torpedo of irides­cent silver.

  In a sense it was beautiful, coiled like a corkscrew, and it moved with a bewildering rapidity which dazzled the vision. For a time it kept up its eye-numbing whirring flying—then it made a beeline for the darkness of the shad­ows near the door of my laboratory.

  Then—Wham! And it had gone through the door into the dark labora­tory interior.

  I got up, my mouth dry, helped Madge to her feet.

  “For God’s sake, Ralph, what is it?” I nearly shrieked.

  “Blind force,” he answered enigmat­ically; then led the way into the kitch­en. And we saw as we went the other hole the thing had made in the door upon its entry.

  Madge nearly burst into tears at the chaos in her domain. Plates and glasses were smashed to hell. The solid steel of the ice-box was warped and bent and the food inside it, though untouched, was mixed in an unholy jumble.

  “The silver coil, as you named it, Madge, is a denizen of Venus’ Twi­light Belt,” Ralph stated grimly, turning. “It lives in eternally dark caves and extreme cold. Ordinarily, it torpid. On Venus, Bill and I explored the Twilight Mountains and found thousands of these motionless silvery. coils lying frozen stiff in the dark. We; figured they were dead or asleep, even as the tortoise hibernates for the winter. I warned Bill against having anything to do with them—but it’s clear what must have happened. Without my knowing it he took one as specimen; thinking to make a fortune from the, Earthly zoologists— God, if only he’d listened to me and kept away!”

  Because I knew Ralph was a better scientist than Bill had ever been I be­lieved him.

  “Yes, blind force,” he repeated. “On Venus I found obvious signs that the lower classes of Venusian life, instead of being protoplasmic are of force, crys­tallized. Why? Because the energy of the Sun, so much closer to Venus than to Earth, is infused into all the life structures of Venus. The creatures of the Twilight Belt however are the lowest class, akin to our protoplasm. Of course, though the Twilight Belt is out of range of actual sunlight, the Sun’s energy permeates every inch of the planet… It’s obvious that the warmth of the bedroom stirred this thing into life. It burst its bonds, at­tacked and killed Bill and, I believe, was going to use him for food—though its normal food as I see it would be in our range of poisons. Then, as I guessed, sudden light chased it off and it looked for the coldest, darkest spot—the icebox. But definitely it is car­nivorous and will try and attack us for food’s sake—it’s the only aim in its life. We’ll be unpalatable for it, but better than nothing.”

  “But surely we can kill it?” I de­manded. “Shoot it?”

  He smiled bitterly. “Might as well try and shoot solid steel! It’s force, man! Darkness will quieten it but won’t kill it. Light will frighten it, but also won’t kill it. Yet we’ve got to nail it somehow…”

  He thought, then braced himself. “We’ve a fight on our hands, Bob,” he announced, his jaw set. “Let’s see what we can do. You’d better stay here, Madge.”

  She nodded, but I doubted if she’d obey…

  Ralph and I started off from the kitchen and cautiously entered the laboratory. We advanced quietly, then, as hell had it, I stumbled. That loose board by the doorway had a habit of tripping me up. I straightened, sweat­ing and listening. All was silent. Through the hole in the door streamed the light of the hall in a narrow cone.

  “If we stay in the dark we can’t see to get at it!” I objected.

  Ralph mumbled an assent and put the light on. Nothing happened, but some chemical jars had been over­turned. Salts of lemon were strewn on the floor and some had clearly been consumed. Ralph gave me a signifi­cant glance.

  “That’s the kind of thing it likes! Poison! Now, where is it?”

  Gathering a little courage we ad­vanced, only to swing round in alarm as Madge came in.

  “Shut the door, quick!” Ralph blazed at her; and she did, fumbling with the key. We hadn’t told her to lock it, but evidently she thought the precaution necessary. Then she gave a horrified gasp, lunged forward— There was a remote clink.

  “What?” I barked at her, tense with anxiety.

  “The—the key!” she replied husk­ily. “I’ve dropped it— It went down this crack by the loose board…”

  “Good God, Madge, do you realize we’re trapped in here?” I yelped. “This laboratory door has an inner lin­ing of steel: we can’t smash it down, even if the Silver Coil can… And the windows are too small to get through—”

  “Shut up!” Ralph interrupted sharp­ly; then as we froze into silence his big hand closed round a girder-spanner on the bench. He advanced with infinite caution to a shadowy part of the lab­oratory in the corner. There, I re­membered, I kept a lot of other loose chemicals some of which were ho doubt edible for this blind, merciless thing from Venus. I stood waiting, Madge clutched to me, both of us in thrall at Ralph’s iron nerves.

  The door of the corner chemical cup­board, steel faced, was slightly ajar. In any case I never bothered to lock it— In a lightning movement Ralph sud­denly flung himself at it, slammed it shut and swung the heavy bolt in place. Then he relaxed and mopped his dewed face.

  “Got it for the moment,” he grinned breathlessly. “Now we’ve got to figure out something to put an end to it. It is afraid of light—that we know. I suppose there is a chance that a light intense enough might kill it. Got any­thing?”

  “I’ve a two-thousand watt film projector,” I said quickly. “Carbon arc light. That might do it.”

  “Good!”

  He followed me as I hurried over to it. We swung it round on its tripod and directed the lens toward the steel door—but at that identical moment things happened again. The steel of the door began to warp and flake! Speechless with amazement we could only gaze at it, watching the outwardly bulging dents; then like an aerial torpedo that corkscrew of living horror slammed out to freedom, pieces of steel hurtling with shrapnel force in all directions.

  “Get down!” Ralph screamed—and we all dropped flat, watching in des­perate fear. And this time we saw the Venusian horror more clearly as it whirled round with dizzying speed seek­ing shelter from the electric light.

  It had a face of sorts—a blind expres­sionless face with no eyes and seemed to be all tightly clamped mouth. It was for all the world like a perpetually coiled snake, only in the style of an earthly electric eel it gave off a silvery glow. More than that indeed, for it sparkled and crackled like a living bolt of lightning when it struck metal! Des­pite my horror, I found time to admire the diversity of Nature who had con­ceived such a mass of supernaturally powerful destruction, obviously with the intent of making it able to master its normal rigorous environment.

  Finally it hurtled into a corner be­hind a workbench and was still again.

  Gently Ralph got up, edged his way round to the film projector and fum­bled with it. Madge and I could see his face was set in hard resolution. Finally he flicked the button on the machine. The motor started up and with it the blinding glare of carbon arc light cast­ing a flour-white beam on the opposite wall.

  “Here,” Ralph said, and slid across to me the wrench he had been holding. “If it dives this way lam out at it. Our only chance, I guess. I’m going to drive it out.”

  He wheeled the projector forward on its rubber wheels, swung the beam so it flooded the c
orner. There was an instant response as that heinous thing was stung into action. It sailed through the air towards me.

  I ducked, straightened again, then whizzed the wrench with all the power of my arms. It was like trying to hit a flash of lightning! I missed hopelessly and went flying. Madge wriggled under the heavy bench for safety. I re­covered my balance and raced to Ralph’s side as he swung the projector -round, using it as a searchlight.

  Tormented by the brilliance the Venusian horror hurled itself at the walls, the fittings, the glass bottles— Then it dived towards Madge! She gave a frantic scream—but thank God it missed her…

  Ralph’s jaws tightened at the nar­row shave, and with admirable courage he moved forward, slowly pinning the thrashing monstrosity into a corner of blinding brilliance.

  “It’s obviously hungry,” he tossed out. “And but for this damned light it would make a meal off us right now, even if we are not right in its line of menu. Keep the light on long enough and it may die, like a fish but of water—”

  He broke off with a gasp as the car­bon light fizzed and flickered abruptly. The snowy effulgence changed to yel­low, then deep purple. Savagely he ad­justed the carbon points, struggling to rebuild the right resistance between them—but in those seconds of momen­tary diminution the thing was done.

  Freed from its light prison the mon­ster leapt. It hit me a glancing blow but it was like a wallop from a five-ton truck. I went staggering backwards helplessly and struck the wall with a force that nearly knocked me silly.