Collected Fiction (1940-1963)

by William P. McGivern

  “Back up!” he said tensely.

  The two men were in the middle of the clearing. They were equally vulnerable from all sides, but Barry wanted to retreat from the thing whose passage shook the earth like the trip-hammer blows of a giant.

  They had not taken more than three steps, cautious backward steps, when a mighty, incredible roar jerked them to a halt, stunned. An instant later a whole wall of matted brush and vegetation crashed to the ground and through this a monstrous animal emerged.

  Barry’s impressions were too instant, too distorted by the horrifying immediateness of the situation to be reliable, but he had one terrible flashing image of hot, baleful eyes, mighty slavering jaws and huge hooked teeth.

  The creature’s four powerful legs raised its long scale covered body fully ten feet from the ground. A massive bludgeoning tail lashed viciously back and forth, churning the underbrush into debris. Its scaly back and sides were a dull green in color.

  “Don’t move!” Barry said softly.

  Slowly he raised the rifle to his shoulder, but before he could aim, the mighty creature reared itself on its legs and charged forward.

  Dropping to his knees Barry fired desperately, pumping electric blasts into the beast as rapidly as his finger could trigger the rifle.

  The charging monster roared horribly. It was no more than fifty feet from them, slithering over the ground with incredible speed. The champing sound of its hideous jaws was like the noise of two boulders grinding together.

  “Run!” Barry yelled.

  He leaped to his feet, but he had not covered five yards when a terrible, fear-crazed cry sounded behind him. Wheeling, his heart climbed to his throat, as he saw Upton, sprawled on his face, not twenty feet in front of the roaring monster.

  A trailing loop of grass had caught his ankle and hurled him to the ground. Barry sprang toward him, whirling the useless rifle about his head with both hands. When he reached Upton’s side he hurled the heavy rifle with savage strength at the yawning jaws of the immense beast.

  The creature’s jaws closed with a greedy snap and Barry heard the rending sound of splintering wood and cracking steel.

  Barry jerked Upton to his feet. The giant, crocodile-like monster was so close that its hot, fetid breath swept over them in a nauseating wave.

  The two men started to run, but, with incredible swiftness, the gigantic beast slithered around and lashed out with a claw-like paw.

  BARRY hurled himself to the ground, shouting a futile warning to Upton. The forepaw, with its horrible raking talons swept harmlessly over him, but it struck Upton with terrible force, flinging him through the air like a rag doll. When he hit the ground he sprawled grotesquely on his face and lay still.

  Sobbing a curse, Barry crawled to his feet and ran toward Upton’s limp, queerly huddled figure. Half way there the scale covered beast struck at him.

  Barry ducked instinctively and the blow did not land directly, but grazed his shoulder with only partial force. But that was enough to numb the whole side of his body and slam him to the ground with bone shattering force.

  Through a misty fog of pain Barry realized that he was lying on his stomach, his face pressed into the coarse matted grass of the jungle floor. Groaning he rolled to his side. The effort took all of his strength. An excruciating pain was leaping along the side of his body and black spots were flickering before his eyes.

  The mighty primordial beast crouched directly in front of him, its thirty foot tail lashing through the grass with the noise of a steam gusher.

  Barry tried to struggle to his feet but the effort was too much for his pain-weakened body. He slumped back gasping.

  The giant lizard moved toward him, attracted by the motion. Its huge, saber-toothed jaws opened wide and a coarse red tongue licked out greedily.

  Instinctively, Barry shrank away. But it was purely a reflective action. His brain was clouding over and a vast weariness was settling in his arms and legs. He tried to fight against the sensation, but it was a futile battle. His eyes closed and his body relaxed limply against the floor of the jungle.

  How long he remained in this comatose state he had no way of reckoning. He wasn’t unconscious, his brain was still functioning, but the will and the incentive to fight and live were draining from him.

  It was a sound that roused him.

  One instant the only noise in the jungle had been the breathing of the monstrous reptilian beast and the drumming of his own heart. Then, with an abruptness that shocked him to awareness, the jungle stillness was shattered by the crescendo thunder of mightily beating wings.

  Barry fought away the weariness that was enveloping him and forced his eyes open. The incredible sight that met his eyes stunned him to full consciousness.

  For diving toward the immense beast were scores of mighty birds, their brilliantly plumaged wings extended to the limit of their great span.

  The giant green beast swayed uncertainly, then turned sideways as the thunderous beat of the diving bird’s wings grew in volume. They were only a few hundred feet in the air, diving like streaking comets straight for the back of the reptilian monster.

  Barry struggled to a sitting position and stared in amazement at the plummeting birds. It was difficult to make out anything but their outlines because they were diving through the last brilliant rays of the setting sun. This coated them with a shining luster that flashed and sparkled as they dropped earthward.

  When they were only a hundred feet from the ground, Barry shaded his gaze with his hands and strained his eyes to bring them into a recognizable focus.

  When he did see the birds plainly, the breath left his lungs in an incredulous gasp. For the shapes hurtling toward the gigantic beast were not birds but—girls, slim, brown skinned girls, with long straight black hair and classically chiseled features. Their mighty wings, a dozen feet from tip to tip, were black and glistering in the lancing light of the setting sun.

  IN THE hands of the bird-girls were gleaming swords, curved in viciously efficient designs. Straight at the unprotected back of the beast they launched themselves, their gleaming blades whistling shrilly as they cut through the air.

  The attack was of unbelievable savagery. In squads of three and four the bird-girls swooped down, chopping viciously at a spot just behind the neck of the huge green monster.

  A roar of baffled rage split the air as the great beast reared on it hind legs and pawed the air in frantic attempts to batter the zooming bird-girls to earth with its huge claws.

  Barry sank to the jungle floor, his heart hammering painfully. His pain-racked body was weakening, his senses clouding. The titanic battle raging before his eyes was like some mad fantasy, a distorted figment of imagination that couldn’t possibly be real.

  Then from the diving ranks of the bird-girls a single figure soared clear and skimmed toward him. Barry watched in fascination as this lone bird-girl dropped to the ground on slim bare feet within a dozen yards of him. At that distance he could be certain that this marvelous creature was a flesh and blood being, and not a product of his imagination.

  The magnificent black wings folded over her shoulders like a cloak as she moved closer. He could see her eyes, black and primitive, as devoid of emotion as those of a hawk. A single tawny animal skin covered her lithe brown body, but it did not conceal the grace and symmetry of her savagely beautiful form.

  He tried to stand then but the pain brought a wave of giddy nausea that detonated a conflagration of flashing pin wheels in his head. A black-out was imminent but he fought desperately against the approaching oblivion as he saw two more of the bird-girls detach themselves from the attacking group.

  He saw them land and skip over the ground with feline grace toward him. With his last conscious sensation he felt strong hands on his shoulders and arms, and then he felt himself soaring upward with the lightness and buoyancy of a cloud.

  That was all he remembered.

  CHAPTER IV

  The Beast-Men

  AS DAR
KNESS wrapped a black mantle around the glistening time ship and the small camp erected about it, McGregor’s impatience turned to anxiety.

  His massive body was a heavy shadow against the night as he stalked grimly about the clearing, pausing only for frequent glances at luminated dial of his wrist watch.

  “The blasted fool!” he growled around the pipe stem which was gripped in the vise of his heavy jaw. He stopped pacing and stared worriedly into the black jungle, in the direction which Barry and Upton had disappeared several hours before.

  He didn’t hear the light step beside him. The first indication he had that he was not alone was Linda Carstair’s unexpected hand on his arm.

  “You’re worried, aren’t you?” she said.

  He swung to face her, seeing her small face as a vague indistinct blur in the darkness.

  “Yes,” he said, almost roughly, “I’m worried about Barry and Upton. They should’ve been back by this time.”

  “Possibly they’re lost,” Linda suggested.

  McGregor snorted. “Barry could find his way here blind-folded. No, they’re not lost. It’s more serious than that.”

  “Maybe,” Linda’s voice shook, “they’ve found my father or have come across his machine.”

  “I’ve thought of that,” McGregor said. “It’s a possibility—but a blasted slim one.”

  “If they’ve met some kind of trouble,” Linda said, “we shouldn’t be wasting time talking about what to do. I think we should set out after them.”

  “Good girl,” McGregor said. There was grudging admiration in his voice. “I had just come to that idea myself. Barry told me not to budge from this site, but you’ll be safe with Allerton and what’s left of the crew.”

  “There’s no sense in your going alone,” Linda said firmly. “If Barry and Upton are in trouble it will take more than one man to get them out of it. The only sensible thing for us to do is lock the ship up and set out after Barry and Upton at dawn.”

  “Well,” McGregor grumbled, “I don’t like the idea of taking a woman along on a trip like this.”

  “Nonsense,” Linda said. “I don’t intend to remain here so you may consider the matter settled. We’ll leave at dawn.”

  “All right, all right,” McGregor muttered helplessly. “We’ll leave at dawn.” A shaft of light cut between them as the door of the time ship opened and Bruce Allerton sauntered toward them.

  “What’s up?” he asked, glancing from McGregor to Linda.

  “Barry and Upton haven’t returned,” Linda explained. “Mr. McGregor is worried and so am I. We’ve just decided to send out a searching party if they aren’t back by dawn.”

  “That’s the logical thing to do,” Allerton said, nodding. His gaze shifted to McGregor. “I suppose you plan to take the two crew members with you?”

  “I’m takin’ everyone with me,” McGregor said grimly. “It’s Miss Carstair’s idea that we make a convention out of it.”

  “It’s the only thing to do,” Linda said, turning to Allerton. “Don’t you agree, Bruce?”

  Allerton laughed nervously. “Really, darling, I’m not sure that it’s the wisest course of action. There’s no telling what we’ll encounter in the way of danger. Of course,” he added hastily, “I’m thinking only of you. For myself I wouldn’t care.”

  “Then it’s all set,” Linda said. “Yeah,” McGregor said drily, “it’s all set. We break camp at dawn . . .”

  WHEN the first slanting streaks of gray light slanted through the trees into the clearing, the small party was ready to leave.

  With McGregor’s bulky figure leading the way they filed into the dense, trackless jungle, following the faint path that Barry had made the day before.

  Linda followed McGregor and Allerton and the two crew members brought up the rear. They had traveled for perhaps an hour when McGregor plunged through a thick tangle of brush into a wide clearing. Instantly he flung up an arm and shouted a warning to the others. Dropping to his knees he jerked a gun from his belt, while his eyes shifted swiftly about the clearing.

  The sight that had prompted his action was one of the most amazing he had ever witnessed. In the center of the clearing was the carcass of an immense beast, fully fifty feet long. The jaws of the beast were distended in death, displaying great rows of terrible teeth. Lying on one side, the creature presented a picture of numbing terror. Its green sides were hacked in a hundred places, and in these gashes thousands of insects fed.

  He heard Linda gasp in horror as she crowded beside him and saw the monstrous creature sprawled on the floor of the jungle.

  Then he saw the sprawled body a few feet from the beast and he climbed to his feet and moved warily toward it, still sweeping the silent surroundings with cautious eyes.

  He turned the body on its back and for a long, silent instant regarded the battered, blood-caked features, set in the final rigid expression of death.

  When he turned blindly from the sight he saw that Linda and the others were watching him in fascinated horror.

  “Upton,” he said tonelessly, through stiff lips.

  Linda’s sob was the only sound to disturb the shocked silence. For a timeless interval no one spoke, then Allerton said quietly,

  “There’s no sign here of what happened to Barry Rudd. He might be still alive.”

  McGregor stood still, his big hands clenched, staring at the ground. Finally his eyes moved over the ground, reading the account of what had happened in the battle marked ground.

  For long moments he studied the grass covered jungle floor and then he looked up, an expression of wonder on his rugged red features.

  “What happened to Barry?” Linda demanded desperately.

  McGregor stared at her and ran a hand through his coarse matted hair.

  “I don’t know,” he said huskily. “One guess would be that the tribe which killed that monster captured Barry and carried him off.”

  “Why do you say tribe?” Allerton asked.

  “No one person,” McGregor answered grimly, “could possibly have killed that beast. It’s almost too much to believe that a hundred men could do it.”

  “In that case,” Allerton said, “I suggest we get back to the time ship as quickly as possible. We aren’t prepared to meet a tribe of savage aboriginals.”

  “We’re goin’ ahead!” McGregor snapped. “Barry Rudd may be still alive, and as long as there’s that chance, we aren’t turning back. Make up your mind to that, everyone!”

  Allerton shrugged. “You’re the boss,” he said.

  McGregor glanced down at Upton’s still body, then said to the two crew members,

  “Get your shovels out. We’ve got a job to do before we go on . . .

  THE service at Upton’s shallow grave was brief. McGregor turned from the unmarked bier, his heavy features working. There were unashamed tears in his eyes. Only for an instant did he show the emotion he felt. As he swung his pack to his shoulder his jaw had hardened and the light of battle was in his eyes.

  “Come on,” he growled, making for the opposite side of the clearing where the green wall of the jungle rose forebodingly.

  The rest of the party followed him without hesitation. Allerton and the two crew members gripped their revolvers in their hands and their eyes swept the brush with increased caution.

  With McGregor hacking a way for them, the party forced their way deeper and deeper into the dank forest. The immense shoots of brush shot up fifty and seventy-five feet above their heads and the rising sun filtered through the mossy leaves with a pale flickering light. The floor of the jungle was matted and soggy and the tangled swampy underbrush was almost as impenetrable as rusted clusters of barbed wire.

  Perspiration streamed down McGregor’s broad face and his boots sunk a full six inches into the rotting slimy vegetation that packed the forest ground. His shoulders worked rhythmically as the heavy three-foot knife in his hands swung back and forth, cleaving a swath through the stifling thorny underbrush.

 
Linda struggled on in his wake. Her bare legs were scratched in a dozen places by the thorny trailers which she brushed against. Her small jaw was set grimly as she forged silently ahead . . .

  It was almost noon and they had been on the march for six hours before McGregor halted. The steaming jungle was as hot as an inferno and the blazing sun at zenith poured a barrage of intolerable heat over them. But it was not because of this that McGregor stopped. Some sixth sense carried a subtle warning to his nerves.

  As the small party halted, the big Scotchman turned and swept the silent brooding jungle with worried eyes. He had the feeling that they were not alone, that they were being watched by alien eyes.

  “Seen any sign of life?” he asked Allerton.

  Allerton shook his head. “I haven’t seen or heard a thing,” he said.

  McGregor still paused uncertainly. The feeling was strong, but there was nothing in the way of concrete evidence to support it. Finally he shrugged and resumed the slow, painful work of hacking a trail through the jungle brush.

  He had not covered more than ten yards when he caught sight of something gleaming through the green swampy tangle of shrubs. The shining reflection of light was directly in front of them, not more than fifty yards away.

  McGREGOR approached cautiously, but when he had covered half the distance to the strange object he let out a jubilant whoop.

  “Luck’s with us,” he cried, turning to Linda. “We’ve found your father’s time ship.”

  Electrified, Linda halted. Then, with a cry, she stumbled forward, following as closely behind McGregor as possible. They reached the time ship almost together and the others were right on their heels.

  The time ship was small, eight feet long, six feet high, a slender glistening ovoid, a miniature replica of the one in which they had just spanned the gulf of time. Now, covered with trailers and scraggling brush it looked as amazingly out of place as a dinosaur would in a formal park of the two-hundred and fiftieth century.

  It had obviously been deserted for days for the lush, swiftly growing jungle had crept up, wrapping tentacles and limp leaves about it in a camouflaging embrace. Only a stray glimmer of light had caught McGregor’s eyes. Had he missed this they might have passed within twenty feet of the machine without being aware of its existence.