McGregor chopped through the encircling brush and jerked open the door of the machine. The interior of the ship was empty. He stepped into the ship and flicked on the lights. One sweeping glance of inspection showed him that everything in the ship was in perfect order. No signs of a disturbance. He noticed a small can of concentrated vitafood and two plates resting on a table near the wall.
Everything indicated that the professor and his assistant had left the ship intending to return but quite obviously they hadn’t.
Linda had followed him into the ship and as he turned he saw the misery on her face and the expression of wordless despair in her eyes.
“Don’t give up, yet,” he said. “There’s still a chance of finding your father and we won’t quit as long as there is a chance.”
“You said that of Barry,” Linda said hopelessly.
“And I mean it,” McGregor said grimly. “I don’t quit easily. Right now I’m going to scour this ship from top to bottom to see if I can find a clue as to where your father was heading for. You better wait outside. There isn’t room in here for both of us to turn around in.”
WHEN the girl had left, McGregor dropped to his knees and rummaged through the small compact drawers, making guesses as to what equipment and clothes were missing. Then he inspected the delicate machinery with a keen practiced eye.
After a complete inspection of all the multiple devices necessary to time navigation and a careful look at the energy tubes, he rose to his feet, a worried frown cutting a furrow over his eyes.
For a long moment he stood still, hands jammed into his pockets.
He was thinking. It was a process which he generally did not bother much about, but now it was forced on him. He had learned something—something ugly and disagreeable, and its implications affected the safety of what was left of his party.
A grim hardness settled along his heavy jaw and a dangerous gleam of anger frosted in his eyes, as he realized what he must do.
He wheeled and stepped toward the door of the ship, but before he reached it a shrill cry sounded—the terrible, marrow-chilling scream of a woman in mortal fear. It was followed by a bestial chorus of hoarse roaring shouts, and the swift rush of heavy feet.
McGregor’s big hands balled into fists as he sprang through the door of the ship. Linda and Allerton and the crew members were fighting for their lives against a dozen shaggy, savage cave men, who had apparently materialized from the brooding emptiness of the jungle.
One sweeping glance stamped this scene on his mind, then he was leaping forward into the fray, a hoarse battle yell springing from his throat.
The cave men attackers were huge, massively muscled creatures, with lustful piggish eyes and slanting foreheads covered with coarse matted hair. Loin clothes of animal skin were their only covering, the rest of their haircovered hides being naked.
In their hands they carried thick clubs, studded with sharp rocks bound into place with leather thongs. The leader of the savage horde, a roaring giant of a man, carried a peculiar hammer-shaped club, formed by a huge shining rock set in the forked end of a stout stick. As this sub-human beast leaped toward one of the crew members, he swung the hammer in a glittering arc above his head.
McGregor sprang at the massive brute who was struggling with Linda. With the force of a pile driver his mallet-like fist crashed into the bestial creature’s face. The blow caught the cave man by surprise. With a hoarse grunt of pain he sprawled to the ground, his slavering jaw hanging queerly.
Jerking his gun from his belt McGregor shot the man before he could arise. With a protecting arm around Linda’s shoulders the big Scotchman swung the deadly muzzle of the gun about to cover the remainder of the attacking horde.
But before he could fire the giant leader of the band reached the crew member, who faced him desperately. The swinging, blazing hammer descended in a blinding arc, striking the crew member a terrible blow.
INSTANTLY the hammer head seemed to explode, great lances of brilliant light forked out and a rending, ear splitting detonation shattered the air. The crew member was hurled to the ground by the force of the blast, his whole torso blackened and charred by the fiery fury of the strange weapon.
With a hoarse scream of triumph the giant cave man sprang over the lifeless body, the hammer swinging again.
McGregor fired frantically at his lunging figure but his electrical pellets were wide of their mark. Other cave men were rushing at him and he swung the gun about and blazed directly into their midst. Some stumbled and went down, black holes bored through their heads and bodies, but the rest charged relentlessly at him, their small, piggish eyes glaring with a murderous rage.
To his left McGregor heard another burst of thunderous noise and he could feel the scorching heat of the strange weapon singeing his clothes.
The butt of the gun in his hand was dangerously hot, but there was nothing to do but keep firing. Then it happened. His finger closed on the trigger and the gun did not respond. It had jammed or burned out. With a curse McGregor hurled the gun straight into the face of the nearest charging cave man. He swung Linda behind him and lashed out with his fists. The suddenness of this new attack bewildered the savage attackers for an instant. Two of them sprawled to the ground under the sledge hammer blows of his swinging fists, before they reorganized their ranks and charged in a tight unified body.
A club struck his forehead driving him to his knees, but still he fought. Blood was streaming into his eyes and his arms seemed as heavy as anchors but his indomitable will kept them pumping, slugging, flailing even as the irresistible wave of huge bodies swept over him crushing him to the earth.
He heard Linda scream, then another blast of sound enveloped him, driving every last vestige of will and consciousness from his mind. It was the last he remembered.
CHAPTER V
Human Sacrifice?
BARRY RUDD regained consciousness slowly. It was like emerging gradually from darkness to light. One instant he was falling, deliberately and inevitably, but slowly, like an aimlessly drifting feather, through foggy darkness; then as his senses cleared he felt the air rushing against his cheeks and he realized that he was dropping as swiftly as a plummet.
His eyes were closed but he could feel the claw-like grips on his shoulders, and hear a mighty thunder of driving wings over his head. Memory returned to him then. With dreadful clarity he recalled the onslaught of the monster, the death of Upton, the incredible attack of the bird-girls, his own black-out.
These fleeting, lightning-swift realizations flashed across his mind, almost too quickly for assimilation.
Before he had time to appreciate their implications, his feet scraped a hard surface, the grips on his shoulders released, and he plunged forward on his face.
The jarring fall brought him back to full consciousness. Opening his eyes he saw that he was lying in the center of what appeared to be a large, rock-floored valley. This impression was dispelled when he struggled to a sitting position and saw a vast domed ceiling extending cone-shaped to a small opening hundreds of feet above his head. Through this round opening in the ceiling daylight poured, illuminating the vast hall with a hazy, imperfect light.
A slight sound behind him attracted his attention. Turning, he saw two of the slender, imperious bird-girls regarding him with their emotionless black eyes.
It was obvious that they had brought him to this strange place after killing the monstrous jungle reptile, but their motive for doing so was completely incomprehensible to him. Why had they brought him here? Why had they saved his life in the first place?
These questions were burning in his mind as he studied the incredible bird-girls, but he realized that he was not to learn the answers, at least for a while. For the bird-girls were preparing to leave.
A swift look flashed between them, an unspoken decision was reached and one of the girls leaped into the air, her great wings drumming mightily as she soared upward, circling toward the opening at the apex of the ceiling.
> Entranced, Barry followed the bird-girl’s slim graceful form as it flashed above him, in ever-ascending circles. As she reached the round opening her slim body with outspread wings was silhouetted for an instant against the streaming light—then she was gone.
The other girl leaped into the air, but the drumming of her wings was drowned out by another sound that broke suddenly in the vast, vaulted chamber.
THE new sound was a hoarse cry, shouted by dozens of roaring, raging voices. Barry twisted and saw that from a number of narrow niches in the walls, men were pouring. Men with thick, hairy chests, mighty arms and legs and sloping bestial foreheads. In their hands were primitive clubs and stone axes. As this terrifying horde charged forward, their long arms swung before them, knuckles grazing the ground, and their hoarse voices rose in a raging, demoniacal scream.
Barry was too stunned by their terribly swift appearance to do anything but helplessly watch, but the bird-girl’s wings beat the air violently and frantically as she heard the soul-chilling chorus of their voices.
Barry saw her flash a terrified glance over her shoulder. Fear was stamped on her proud lean features and her savage dark eyes flashed like those of a trapped animal.
She was almost twenty feet above the ground and gaining altitude with every second, but the raging horde of savage men were redoubling their speed. The concentration of the pack was centered on the flying girl, their howling scream seemed to be directed against her and none of them paid any attention to Barry.
When the leaders of the horde reached the spot they apparently realized that the girl was beyond their reach, for their screams of rage doubled in volume and they leaped futilely into the air, flecks of froth drooling over their tusk-like teeth.
One of them drew back his arm and flung his club wildly into the air, but it was wide of its mark. The bird-girl was almost fifty feet above their heads, flying frantically for the narrow aperture at the ceiling that meant escape and freedom.
The action of this one savage was a signal to the others. Almost immediately the rest of the pack were hurling their clubs into the air and screaming with disappointment as the missiles missed their mark.
Barry found himself tensely praying that the girl would make her escape. For some unknown reason she had befriended him and, for an equally unknown reason, these monsters were enraged at her.
It was just at the moment that she seemed certain of escape that it happened. She was wheeling in a narrow circle, her great wings extended to their fullest spread, when a stone axe, spinning through the air with incredible speed, slashed into her right wing.
Her thin cry of pain went through Barry like a knife. A roar of bestial exultation sprang from the horde as the bird-girl fell toward the ground, her uninjured wing beating mightily in a desperate but futile attempt to check her fall. The injured wing, hung at a sharp angle, broken and helpless.
When her slim swiftly dropping body struck the rocky floor, a half dozen of the pack leaped for her, clubs raised. Had she moved she would probably have been battered to death at the same instant, but her body was motionless, lying limply on the ground, one splendid wing thrown wide, the other, shrunken and twisted, folded close to her.
For a second the pack hesitated, then they dropped their clubs and after a moment of fierce guttural babbling among themselves, they picked up the bird-girl’s limp form and started away with it.
AT THE same instant the remainder of the horde swung on Barry. He had been expecting this and, with an effort he rose to one knee, resolved to die fighting. But the intentions of the savage pack were not murderous. Ignoring his feeble resistance two of the burly creatures grabbed his arms, two others grabbed his legs and they lifted him from the ground and carried him after the cluster of savages who were bearing the bird-girl.
Across the wide rocky floor and into one of the narrow niches, which was actually a small hallway leading off the larger room, they carried him. Illumination was provided by torches of blazing ropes which were stuck into the walls, casting a smoky flickering light over the dim musty passageway.
For several moments the pack of brutish, ragged men tramped on in stolid silence, the shuffling tramp of their feet being the only sound to disturb the clammy stillness. Then the passageway widened out and merged with a larger room, hung with imperfectly treated hides and floor coverings of matted rope. The low ceiling was burned black from the guttering of smoke from the many blazing torches and several primitive couches of stone were set against the rock walls.
Barry was deposited without ceremony on one of these couches and the men turned and filed out of the room, the muffled tramp of their footsteps gradually fading away into silence.
Alone, Barry sat up carefully and examined his leg and hip. The bruise was still painful, but the throbbing had stopped and he was satisfied that no bones were broken. Then he stood up and inspected the rude room. A quick glance was all that was required for this. There were no openings or windows, but in the corners he saw narrow crevices through which the smoke was drawn from the room. These flues helped but little. Great clouds of dirty smoke seemed to congeal in the middle of the room and hang there like some evil spectre.
He had completed his brief examination of the quarters when he heard a sound behind him. Turning quickly he gave a gasp of pure relief.
For a man stood in the entrance of the room.
Not a sub human, apish creature, but a small, gray-haired man with intelligent blue eyes and lean, kind features. This man wore a faded, ragged shirt, grimy breeches and knee boots. Barry’s relief at seeing a human being was so intense, that he couldn’t speak.
“Sorry if I startled you,” the man said, smiling.
Barry drew a shaky breath. “It was the most pleasant shock I’ve received in a long time,” he said. It was then that the significance, the import of this man’s presence hit him.
“You’re Professor Carstairs, aren’t you?” he demanded. “Linda Carstairs’ father.”
“Why, yes,” the blue eyes twinkled, “I do happen to be Professor Carstairs. How did you happen to know me?”
Barry sat down weakly on one of the stone couches.
“It’s a long story,” he said.
WHEN he had finished talking tiny furrows of worry lined the professor’s face. For several moments he was silent, one hand drumming nervously on his knee. Then he said:
“It was like Linda to set out after me, but I’d feel better if I knew she was safely at home. Frankly there’s nothing she or the other members of her party could do to rescue us, even if they did happen to discover that we are being held.”
“Are you sure?” Barry asked quietly. “Is there no way to escape from this place?”
Professor Carstairs smiled fleetingly and shrugged.
“Perhaps I shouldn’t speak with authority because as it happens, I haven’t tried to escape. Still, my opinion would be that such a venture would be impossible. Now, I will tell you my story. I came here to this remote age because my research indicated that it was at approximately this time that the Germanic legends were in embryo, so to speak. The legend I was particularly concerned with was that which dealt with the Thunder God, known as Thor. Every mythology has a counterpart of Thor. The Romans called him Vulcan; the Indians called him Twakstrie, and so forth. My belief is, or was, that these legends were based on fact, that a thunder god, and thunder hammer, had existed. Since my work is in the field of synthetic energy you can understand what it would mean to me if I could discover and analyze the original hammer of Thor. There, I might find the secret, the keystone, to the solution of the problem of synthetic energy.”
“I gather,” Barry interrupted, “that you haven’t found any trace of the hammer.”
The professor nodded slowly. “My companion and I arrived at this age without difficulty, but in our first foray into the foreboding jungle we stumbled upon a party of these Cro-Magnon creatures. In the struggle my companion was killed. I was brought here and have been here since.”
&n
bsp; “Why,” Barry asked, “have they kept you alive?”
“As to that,” the professor answered, “I can only surmise that I, and you also, are being reserved for some very special manner of elimination. I have given some study to the monolithic inscriptions on the walls of these caves and the most prevailing one is that of sacrificial rites, coincident, as nearly as I can figure, with the full periods of the moon. It is therefore not a bad guess that you and I are scheduled to slake the blood thirst of one of their disagreeable gods.”
THE professor spoke blandly, almost cheerfully, but there was no mistaking the undertone of grimness in his words.
“There must be something we can do,” Barry said quietly, “I’m not in the habit of quitting without a fight. How far do you suppose this place is from where you left your time ship?”
“Not terribly far,” the professor answered thoughtfully. “As I recall we had only marched a few hours when I was able to sight the mountain top under which these caves have been tunneled. You might not have noticed it but the main chamber of this unique place is simply the inner core of a long extinct volcano. From that dead core our industrious hosts chiseled deep into the interior of the mountain until they have literally honeycombed it with their caves. It was a measure made expedient by the great number and variety of ferocious carnivora which roam the jungles. If you plan to escape, my friend, remember that fact well. You will be forced to cover miles of swampy jungle, infested with the most malignant types of reptiles and animals. That is doubtless why my hosts have given me a good deal of freedom about the place. They respect my intelligence sufficiently to realize that I would not be rash enough to dare the dangers of the jungle alone.”
“You are not alone now,” Barry said with quiet emphasis.
Collected Fiction (1940-1963) Page 113