by Don Wilcox
The Glass Arena shattered, and great chunks of one-way glass went bouncing across the white tile plaza. The glide-walk reversed its direction with the rapidity of a locomotive’s piston. Men who had entered thinking to escape violence came running out in tattered clothing.
The heavy mountain shelf with the dark green light, where Koo-Jop and his tribe had lingered to finish their rituals, broke open toward the tunnels above, sometime during the night. As death threatened on all sides, the Bunjojops made ready to march. Buni was sure he could choose an escape route for them. He might have succeeded, but a new shower of lava burst down in front of them and plastered their way shut with tons and tons of candle-drip formation.
Koo-Jop reversed the march. He consulted his gods en route and came to the awful decision. They would march out by way of the White Tile Plaza, straight past the stronghold of Sully and the White Sharks. They would, if necessary, attack their enemy on the run; but they would break out or die in the attempt . . .
With the first light of dawn, the mayor and his three companions decided to take their life in their own hands, such as it was. They each contributed some clothing to the cause, made a rope of it, and tried to descend. Two of them fell.
The mayor, shivering in his underwear, and the pilot, stripped to a similar state of discomfort, succeeded in getting down to the next shelf where Pakkerman had taken Madam Lasanda into the tower. The two “boys”—Bill Gavor and Charley Spandoak—were less fortunate. Each in turn lost his grip on the makeshift ladder and fell.
They fell through the almost perpendicular walls of the tower. The strangely plastic stone allowed them to pass through, under a blaze of early morning light from the great diamond.
Jimmy, whose sharp eyes and ears missed nothing, saw them slip through. He called out a “Hey—Look!” for Pakkerman to catch sight of the two descents. The men fell as if they were a pair of paratroopers with a destination. They barely missed the ragged edge of the broken piecrust floor as they went down through the Red Room. Jimmy saw them swallowed up in the clouds of orange fire, and he believed they must have fallen very near the point of the great cone. Pakkerman was inclined to believe they fell squarely into the fiery crater.
“Anyway, they’re goners, after a fall like that,” Jimmy declared. But Doc Pakkerman wasn’t so sure. He thought the Scravvzek might have had something to do with those two precise falls.
The coming of dawn was welcomed by Pakkerman. Jimmy and Sue saw that he was growing stronger in his faith in himself.
All night long the four of them had huddled together in the tower, fearing the awful demonstration of power. It was terrifying to think what Allan must be going through. If the Scravvzek had not, indeed, consumed him in the process. All through the night’s talk, Sue knew that Doc Pakkerman was mentally testing his own strength. “Talk to me,” he would say to Madam Lasanda. He was struggling to come back to a normal view of the world, after having soaked himself in months and months of distressing mirror study. “Convince me that I should have faith in those two billion people. If I’m wrong—if they’re not bent on destroying each other—tell me . . . Talk to me.”
Sue saw what might come of this weird mental struggle. Pakkerman, meant to go back and recapture his claim on the Scravvzek, in order to release Allan. But he didn’t want to go back and sink into the old habits of destroying. If he could catch a happier view of the world, he might return as a less effective servant—more sluggish at the old business of hurling evil fires.
And so, through the hours, Madam Lasanda coached him in the happier view of the world, and she held back her tears. But she knew that he meant to return to the Scravvzek soon. And if he was not able to serve with a lighter hand, there was always the possibility of the death that he had once pleaded for.
Dawn brought forth a strengthened Doc Pakkerman. But his happier view of the world suffered a severe setback when a certain savage Mayor Channing came dragging down the steps in his underwear.
It was pretty terrible, Sue thought. The Madam had just topped her lecture with some bit of pretty poetry about what a glorious creature is man. And along came this refugee from a night of earthquakes, cursing vilely, and demanding his rights as an American citizen—clothing, breakfast, and a chance to punch Doc Pakkerman in the jaw. It had been a bad night for the mayor, and there was nothing glorious about him.
CHAPTER XLVI
Allan moved freely from the crater to other parts of the great network of caverns. He moved where the Scravvzek wanted him to move. And still he was conscious of possessing a will of his own. The strange fire of Scravvzek power passed through his hands, and he cooperated. With a sense of power, he destroyed. Dust, winds, fire, hailstorms of falling rocks, clouds of gas, stretching walls and groaning mountains and hissing floods of lava—these were his works. Stupendous power to destroy was in his hands.
The ceiling over the cone broke through and Gallagher tumbled.
Allan saw the green fingers catch him to ease his fall. Gallagher limped off through the clouds of light, looking for a lost bottle.
The interruption was a trifle disturbing to Allan, but the Scravvzek forces at once hurled him back into action. He flung showers of sparks over the great cone.
A series of such interruptions occurred. Each passing interruption would momentarily break in upon Allan’s growing illusion of power. His arms would stop swinging and he would walk down the side of the cone as if being strangely drawn by the memory of his normal life.
But the green fingers would urge him to go back to work. And he would bound back to the cone and whirl into action, his muscles highlighted by the shell of fire over his head and shoulders. He was naked to the waist, barefoot, and he felt like a god.
Once he paused over a group of mirrors to listen to a chorus of a thousand voices. They were singing in a foreign tongue. He knew neither the language nor the setting. But he knew they were singing a song of hope and faith.
He ran back to the cone and continued with his orgy of destruction.
Once he came across Gallagher, wandering like a lost soul around the base of the cone. Gallagher was sniffing the air, “smelling fish,” he said. There were no fish in the Black River or anywhere else in this region. What did that soggy old guard have on his mind? He saluted profusely with each hand whenever he saw Allan, and plodded on through the semi-darkness,
Allan went back to his job.
Once he heard Sully’s screaming voice, and as he moved down to see what was wrong, he found Sully trying to put out the flames that rose and fell in the base of the Ksentajaiboa. The four-foot copper statue stood solid beyond the fallen center arch. A cloud of gas was moving along within a few feet of the open flames. It was a greenish-gray cloud, spreading low along the floor, branching out like gigantic sponge. Gallagher was moving back out of its path, muttering that he smelled fish. And at a little distance Sully shrieked at him to come and help put the fire out.
Sully succeeded, a moment later, when he emerged from a cave with the bottle of poison water Allan had once hidden, and dashed it over the Ksentajaiboa flames. The fire hissed out. Sully went on his way. The sponge cloud kept spreading. Orange globes of light might roll over it without effect, but no open flame touched it.
Green fingers urged Allan back to his work at the top of the cone.
Once he saw the two Maple City “boys” come falling down through the overhead opening. The green fingers caught them and carried them away.
Once he paused, steaming with sweat, above a group of mirrors whose voices were reciting something very familiar. School children. They were pledging allegiance to the flag. He listened. He watched a certain boy—a lad with keen eyes of vision. That boy was dreaming a dream of helping his country grow into new strength and the great glory of being a fine neighbor to all the world. It was a good dream.
The fingers of the Scravvzek had to force Allan to come away.
But now Allan hurled the showers of fire with less heart. Why was he destroying? He mo
ved automatically. He wondered.
Had he wanted this honor? Had he subconsciously craved this sense of power? Had it come to him because he had mentally invited it? If so, why? Was it because he wanted to impress the men who used to call him captain?
All right, he did want to impress them. They were asking for it. They had become so depraved, living down here, that all they hungered for was a place in the eyes of the Evil Scravvzek. They reveled in the orange light whenever it came their way. All right for them! Let them have it!
He hurled a volley of fire globes through the open ceiling, a veritable river of them. They streamed over the rocks, and he knew that they flowed down through the chain of caverns toward the Glass Arena. If the boys wanted a taste of Scravvzek’s power, let them wade into this flood of fiery globes to their hearts’ content.
Seemingly at his command, the crater poured forth an endless stream that flowed up through the open ceiling and off into the labyrinth of caverns. It went on without Allan’s touch. He edged away from the crater and drifted down the side of the cone, somewhat awed by the river of orange light that he had set into motion.
He looked down toward the great growing sponge-cloud of greenish-gray gas that was gathering above the floors everywhere, and decided that he “smelled fish.” He wondered if he should be worried. The stuff seemed to be pouring out of a few small openings near the base of the cone. A few mirrors had been shattered by falling stones from the red ceiling overhead. Under all these millions of mirrors there must have been a huge chamber of this curious sponge-like gas.
Allan backed away. He moved up the cone, trying to find better air to breathe.
There was that singing again—a thousand voices. Rising notes in a stirring song of Hope and Faith. He listened . . .
CHAPTER XLVII
When Mayor Channing entered the tower in his underwear and demanded a chance to punch Pakkerman in the nose, the doctor smiled and asked for a postponement. What the mayor needed was clothing. If he and the pilot would climb back up the stairs toward the giant eye, they would find the answer to all their needs in a certain niche in the wall.
“After you’ve dressed and eaten,” Pakkerman said, “you’re to come back down to this observation platform and wait here with Madam Lasanda. You’ve brought her here. I’ll hold you responsible for her safety.”
The mayor’s fat shoulders twitched. He mumbled that he was as helpless in this tottering tower as a fish out of water. But he accepted the order, and he and the pilot ascended.
Pakkerman left Madam Lasanda at the small observation platform within the tower, and hurriedly descended. He had not come to any decision about trying to take Allan’s place. He felt the need of testing his own strength first. Could he face the rest of the eighty men, not as a Scravvzek servant but as a man of good will?
He bounded down the steps carrying the weight of a decision with him.
He picked up Sue and Jimmy along the way. They had given up trying to win his help, and had gone ahead to see what they might accomplish alone. Sue had been convinced that Pakkerman wanted to help, but was not yet sure of himself, divorced from the Scravvzek powers.
The three of them skirted the edge of the Red Room floor, and dodged the stream of fiery globes that fountained up from the big room below.
“I’m going to follow that trail of orange light,” Doc Pakkerman announced, “and find out what it’s doing.”
“We’ll go with you,” Sue said. Again she was ready to depend on this man, who certainly knew his way about.
Jimmy was equally eager to follow. “Lead the way, Doc. I’m your man, you know.”
At the White Tile Plaza their trail came to an end. The stream of orange globes moved through a circle. Within the loop stood many of the men who had once been Allan Burgess’ crew. The rest of the gang stood on the outside of the circle of light. They had moved back far enough to resist being drawn into it.
The White Sharks yelled at those on the outside to come on in and enjoy the bath of orange light. “The Scravvzek is giving us a free party,” Bandyworth yelled. “Come on in!”
All of the White Sharks, many of the Green Coats, and a few of the Rocky Chests were determined to stay inside the circle.
Pakkerman moved up close and called to them. This wasn’t good. They should get out while they could.
“Come out!” he warned. “I’ve been through all that. It’s dangerous. It’s deadly. Come out! Look at me—I’ll lead you out of this world. You’ll bake yourselves to death in there. Look at yourselves. The light is showing through you. Come out!”
A few of them heeded the summons and fought out of the circle.
Sully and Bandyworth jeered and taunted. They pranced around in a strange state of evil glory, showing Pakkerman that they could “take it.” And apparently they could. But the others were beginning to turn to orange colored glass. The steam kept circling about them, and the light began to burn through them.
“They’re turnin’ to glass statues,” Jimmy whispered.
Sue’s narrowed eyes watched the strange effect with horror.
Gradually their clothing melted away. The weird light shone through their naked amber bodies. They could no longer move or speak. They only stared like senseless statues. Through their translucent flesh, their beating hearts could be seen growing weaker until the faint motion ceased altogether. They stood there like stone.
Only Sully and Bandyworth came through unscathed. They were more accustomed to the game of absorbing the Scravvzek’s light. When they saw the effect it was having upon the others, they crossed through the trail of luminous globes and hurried off into an unlighted cavern, seeking safety for themselves while there was still time.
Sue and Jimmy had moved back with Doc Pakkerman. They helped him give orders to those of the crew who had never entered the circle in the first place. These had resisted the Scravvzek. They were willing to be talked into a plan to leave this region and go back to normal life.
Pakkerman wasted no time. He gave them orders to take a certain path and make tracks out of the mountains. They should go to the next village beyond Bunjojop and await instructions.
No sooner had they raced away than another and much larger troupe of human beings came running through the cavern, valley. Koo-Jop and his tribe of nearly eight hundred were coming through on the double.
The Bunjojops bounded up through the ravine. They chased past the ruins of the Glass Arena. They strung out into a long double file as they came running across, the White Tile Plaza. They expected to be attacked. They were ready with handfuls of stones. Women and children on one side of the column, men on the other, they were taking their chances against death on their way out.
It was a strange enemy that waited for them at one side of their path—about fifty of their former captors, standing naked like fifty glass statues, encircled by a stream of Scravvzek light.
The Bunjojops let fly with the rocks on their way past.
The statue-like army fell with a great clatter of breaking glass. They crashed and splintered all over the white tile floor.
From a distance Sue heard the mocking yowl of Sully. “They can’t take it, the poor devils! Look at ‘em splash!”
The Bunjojops made a swift and safe exit, never once stopping to investigate their easy victory en route. Before the last of the line went through, Sue succeeded in spotting Buni. She called to him, and he ran over to her eagerly.
Good little Buni! Sue gave him a quick hug. Then she and Jimmy accomplished the necessary diplomatic maneuver swiftly. They let Buni know what had happened to Allan. They made him understand that this tall man with the deep eyes was no longer a victim of the Scravvzek, and that Buni must arrange for Koo-Jop to trust him, just as he trusted Allan, so that all innocent parties escaping from this mountain could be guaranteed safe conduct through Koo-Jop’s village.
Good little Buni! He understood in a flash. He smiled at Doc Pakkerman and promised that there would be good luck waiting for him i
f he would come to Bunjojop.
Then he bounded away to catch up with the receding trail of natives. Sue watched him move out of sight and knew that Allan would have been proud of him.
CHAPTER XLVIII
Things were looking up. Now, Sue thought, was the time. It was time for Doc Pakkerman to roll up his sleeves and walk into the thick of the Scravvzek power and somehow pull Allan Burgess out of it. She believed, judging by the determined glint in his eye, that he was ready for it.
“This way,” Pakkerman said.
Sue looked around. “Where’s Jimmy?”
Jimmy had been called aside by someone who saw a chance to square an old grudge. Bandyworth had come at him and made a taunting remark about Captain Burgess. “If you had an ounce of guts,” Bandyworth said, “you’d go and bump the captain off before he smashes the whole world to hell. If you had any guts—”
Bandyworth had said the wrong thing. He thought Sully was back of him, ready to back him up, and together they would get Jimmy in a corner.
But when Bandyworth looked around for a team mate, Sully wasn’t there.
“Wait,” Bandyworth said, as Jimmy came at him, fists doubled. “Don’t misunderstand me—”
Jimmy struck three blows, and Bandy turned three summersaults and rolled into the pit where Jimmy and Allan had once been held prisoner.
It was a fair tumbling act, Sue thought, as she caught Jimmy’s arm and marched him away. And a lucky thing for Bandyworth that the pit was there. A moment later, luminous green fingers lifted the lid from the floor of the White Tile Plaza and scooped the pieces of glass men into it. The fingers scraped over the floor with the object of catching everything within reach. They scraped over the pit at least five times. The last Sue saw of them, they were making Bandyworth pull his head in like a turtle.