by Ed Earl Repp
CHAPTER III
_Splendid Sacrifice_
It was a solid hour's walk out to West Wilshire, where the laboratorywas. The immense bronze and glass doors of Wanamaker Institute wereclosed, and so barred to the two men. But Erickson led the way down theside.
"We can get in a service door. Then we climb through transoms andventilators until we get to my lab."
Major frisked along beside them. He was enjoying the action and thecompanionship. It was less of an adventure to Miller, who knew deathmight be ahead for the three of them.
Two workmen were moving a heavy cabinet in the side service door. To getin, they climbed up the back of the rear workman, walked across thecabinet, and scaled down the front of the leading man. They went up thestairs to the fifteenth floor. Here they crawled through a transom intothe wing marked:
"Experimental. Enter Only By Appointment."
Major was helped through it, then they were crawling along the darkmetal tunnel of an air-conditioning ventilator. It was small, and tooksome wriggling.
In the next room, they were confronted by a stern receptionist on whosedesk was a little brass sign, reading:
"Have you an appointment?"
Miller had had his share of experience with receptionists' ways, in hisdays as a pharmaceutical salesman. He took the greatest pleasure now inlighting his cigarette from a match struck on the girl's nose. Then heblew the smoke in her face and hastened to crawl through the finaltransom.
John Erickson's laboratory was well lighted by a glass-brick wall and ahuge skylight. The sun's rays glinted on the time impulsor.[1] Thescientist explained the impulsor in concise terms. When he had finished,Dave Miller knew just as little as before, and the outfit stillresembled three transformers in a line, of the type seen on power-poles,connected to a great bronze globe hanging from the ceiling.
"There's the monster that put us in this plight," Erickson grunted. "Toostrong to be legal, too weak to do the job right. Take a good look!"
* * * * *
With his hands jammed in his pockets, he frowned at the complexmachinery. Miller stared a few moments; then transferred his intereststo other things in the room. He was immediately struck by theresemblance of a transformer in a far corner to the ones linked up withthe impulsor.
"What's that?" he asked quickly. "Looks the same as the ones you usedover there."
"It is."
"But-- Didn't you say all you needed was another stage of power?"
"That's right."
"Maybe I'm crazy!" Miller stared from impulsor to transformer and backagain. "Why don't you use it, then?"
"Using what for the connection?" Erickson's eyes gently mocked him.
"Wire, of course!"
The scientist jerked a thumb at a small bale of heavy copper wire.
"Bring it over and we'll try it."
Miller was halfway to it when he brought up short. Then a sheepish grinspread over his features.
"I get it," he chuckled. "That bale of wire might be the Empire StateBuilding, as far as we're concerned. Forgive my stupidity."
Erickson suddenly became serious.
"I'd like to be optimistic, Dave," he muttered, "but in all fairness toyou I must tell you I see no way out of this. The machine is, of course,still working, and with that extra stage of power, the uncertainty wouldbe over. But where, in this world of immovable things, will we find apiece of wire twenty-five feet long?"
* * * * *
There was a warm, moist sensation against Miller's hand, and when helooked down Major stared up at him commiseratingly. Miller scratched himbehind the ear, and the dog closed his eyes, reassured and happy. Theyoung druggist sighed, wishing there were some giant hand to scratch himbehind the ear and smooth _his_ troubles over.
"And if we don't get out," he said soberly, "we'll starve, I suppose."
"No, I don't think it will be that quick. I haven't felt any hunger. Idon't expect to. After all, our bodies are still living in one instantof time, and a man can't work up a healthy appetite in one second. Ofcourse, this elastic-second business precludes the possibility ofdisease.
"Our bodies must go on unchanged. The only hope I see is--when we are onthe verge of madness, suicide. That means jumping off a bridge, Isuppose. Poison, guns, knives--all the usual wherewithal--are denied tous."
Black despair closed down on Dave Miller. He thrust it back, forcing acrooked grin.
"Let's make a bargain," he offered. "When we finish fooling around withthis apparatus, we split up. We'll only be at each other's throat if westick together. I'll be blaming you for my plight, and I don't want to.It's my fault as much as yours. How about it?"
John Erickson gripped his hand. "You're all right, Dave. Let me give yousome advice. If ever you do get back to the present ... keep away fromliquor. Liquor and the Irish never did mix. You'll have that store onits feet again in no time."
"Thanks!" Miller said fervently. "And I think I can promise that nothingless than a whiskey antidote for snake bite will ever make me bend anelbow again!"
* * * * *
For the next couple of hours, despondency reigned in the laboratory. Butit was soon to be deposed again by hope.
Despite all of Erickson's scientific training, it was Dave Millerhimself who grasped the down-to-earth idea that started them hopingagain. He was walking about the lab, jingling keys in his pocket, whensuddenly he stopped short. He jerked the ring of keys into his hand.
"Erickson!" he gasped. "We've been blind. Look at this!"
The scientist looked; but he remained puzzled.
"Well--?" he asked skeptically.
"There's our wire!" Dave Miller exclaimed. "You've got keys; I've gotkeys. We've got coins, knives, wristwatches. Why can't we lay them allend to end--"
Erickson's features looked as if he had been electrically shocked.
"You've hit it!" he cried. "If we've got enough!"
With one accord, they began emptying their pockets, tearing offwristwatches, searching for pencils. The finds made a little heap in themiddle of the floor. Erickson let his long fingers claw through thinninghair.
"God give us enough! We'll only need the one wire. The thing is pluggedin already and only the positive pole has to be connected to the globe.Come on!"
Scooping up the assortment of metal articles, they rushed across theroom. With his pocket-knife, Dave Miller began breaking up the metalwrist-watch straps, opening the links out so that they could be laidend-to-end for the greatest possible length. They patiently broke thewatches to pieces, and of the junk they garnered made a ragged foot anda half of "wire." Their coins stretched the line still further.
They had ten feet covered before the stuff was half used up. Their metalpencils, taken apart, gave them a good two feet. Key chains helpedgenerously. With eighteen feet covered, their progress began to slowdown.
Perspiration poured down Miller's face. Desperately, he tore off hislodge ring and cut it in two to pound it flat. From garters andsuspenders they won a few inches more. And then--they stopped--feet fromtheir goal.
Miller groaned. He tossed his pocket-knife in his hand.
"We can get a foot out of this," he estimated. "But that still leaves usway short."
Abruptly, Erickson snapped his fingers.
"Shoes!" he gasped. "They're full of nails. Get to work with that knife,Dave. We'll cut out every one of 'em!"
* * * * *
In ten minutes, the shoes were reduced to ragged piles of tatteredleather. Erickson's deft fingers painstakingly placed the nails, one byone, in the line. The distance left to cover was less than six inches!
He lined up the last few nails. Then both men were sinking back on theirheels, as they saw there was a gap of three inches to cover!
"Beaten!" Erickson ground out. "By three inches! Three inches from thepresent ... and yet it might as well be a million miles!"
Miller's body felt as though it were in a vise. His muscles ached withstrain. So taut were his nerves that he leaped as though stung whenMajor nuzzled a cool nose into his hand again. Automatically, he beganto stroke the dog's neck.
"Well, that licks us," he muttered. "There isn't another piece ofmovable metal in the world."
Major kept whimpering and pushing against him. Annoyed, the druggistshoved him away.
"Go 'way," he muttered. "I don't feel like--"
Suddenly then his eyes widened, as his touch encountered warm metal. Hewhirled.
"There it is!" he yelled. "The last link. _The nameplate on Major'scollar!_"
In a flash, he had torn the little rectangular brass plate from the dogcollar. Erickson took it from his grasp. Sweat stood shiny on his skin.He held the bit of metal over the gap between wire and pole.
"This is it!" he smiled brittlely. "We're on our way, Dave. Where, Idon't know. To death, or back to life. But--we're going!"
The metal clinked into place. Live, writhing power leaped through thewire, snarling across partial breaks. The transformers began to hum. Thehumming grew louder. Singing softly, the bronze globe over their headsglowed green. Dave Miller felt a curious lightness. There was a snap inhis brain, and Erickson, Major and the laboratory faded from his senses.
Then came an interval when the only sound was the soft sobbing he hadbeen hearing as if in a dream. That, and blackness that enfolded himlike soft velvet. Then Miller was opening his eyes, to see the familiarwalls of his own kitchen around him!
Someone cried out.
"Dave! Oh, Dave, dear!"
It was Helen's voice, and it was Helen who cradled his head in her lapand bent her face close to his.
"Oh, thank God that you're alive--!"
"Helen!" Miller murmured. "What--are--you--doing here?"
"I couldn't go through with it. I--I just couldn't leave you. I cameback and--and I heard the shot and ran in. The doctor should be here. Icalled him five minutes ago."
"_Five minutes_ ... How long has it been since I shot myself?"
"Oh, just six or seven minutes. I called the doctor right away."
Miller took a deep breath. Then it _must_ have been a dream. Allthat--to happen in a few minutes-- It wasn't possible!
"How--how could I have botched the job?" he muttered. "I wasn't drunkenough to miss myself completely."
Helen looked at the huge revolver lying in the sink.
"Oh, that old forty-five of Grandfather's! It hasn't been loaded sincethe Civil War. I guess the powder got damp or something. It just sort ofsputtered instead of exploding properly. Dave, promise me something!You won't ever do anything like this again, if I promise not to nagyou?"
Dave Miller closed his eyes. "There won't be any need to nag, Helen.Some people take a lot of teaching, but I've had my lesson. I've gotideas about the store which I'd been too lazy to try out. You know, Ifeel more like fighting right now than I have for years! We'll lick 'em,won't we, honey?"
Helen buried her face in the hollow of his shoulder and cried softly.Her words were too muffled to be intelligible. But Dave Millerunderstood what she meant.
* * * * *
He had thought the whole thing a dream--John Erickson, the "timeimpulsor" and Major. But that night he read an item in the _EveningCourier_ that was to keep him thinking for many days.
POLICE INVESTIGATE DEATH OF SCIENTIST HERE IN LABORATORY
John M. Erickson, director of the Wanamaker Institute, died at his work last night. Erickson was a beloved and valuable figure in the world of science, famous for his recently publicized "time lapse" theory.
Two strange circumstances surrounded his death. One was the presence of a German shepherd dog in the laboratory, its head crushed as if with a sledgehammer. The other was a chain of small metal objects stretching from one corner of the room to the other, as if intended to take the place of wire in a circuit.
Police, however, discount this idea, as there was a roll of wire only a few feet from the body.
THE END
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Obviously this electric time impulsor is a machine in the nature ofan atomic integrator. It "broadcasts" great waves of electrons whichalign all atomic objects in rigid suspension.
That is to say, atomic structures are literally "frozen." Living bodiesare similarly affected. It is a widely held belief on the part of manyeminent scientists that all matter, broken down into its elementaryatomic composition, is electrical in structure.
That being so, there is no reason to suppose why Professor Erickson maynot have discovered a time impulsor which, broadcasting electronicimpulses, "froze" everything within its range.--ED.
Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from _Amazing Stories_ April 1956 and was first published in _Amazing Stories_ October 1940. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note.