The 22nd Golden Age of Science Fiction

by Robert Moore Williams

  Already the sailors were tossing guns to their comrades who had been held prisoner. The look on the men’s faces as they eagerly grabbed the weapons boded no good for any Ogrum who tried to stop them from escaping. Meanwhile Craig and Higgins revived Margy Sharp. The man who had been prepared for the Ogrum sacrifice was released.

  “Everybody out!” Craig yelled.

  In a long line the sailors trotted toward the passage through the temple that led to the exit. Once outside, they would reform their phalanx and fight their way through any opposition that might develop. No sound had come from the rear-guard they had left at the exit, proving that the Ogrum had not yet discovered that their prisoners had been released.

  “We’ve won!” Craig said huskily. “We’ve tricked those devils and beaten them to the punch.”

  “You’ve worked a miracle,” Captain Higgins said. “If we were back home, you would get a Congressional Medal for this.”

  “Thanks!” the big man grinned. Then the grin vanished from his face. “What’s that?” he said sharply.

  From the passage ahead of them came the metallic rattle of machine gun fire.

  “It’s the rear guard at the exit!” a sailor said. “They’re shooting at something.”

  * * * *

  Craig ordered the file to halt and he and Higgins slipped forward to the exit. Through the hole that served as a doorway came a dull glow of light. The guard had taken refuge in the passage itself. An ensign came stumbling down the passage.

  “It’s a trap!” he shouted. “The whole place is surrounded. There are thousands of Ogrum out there. They deliberately let us enter the temple, then they closed up behind us.”

  “Impossible!” Craig whispered.

  “So help me, it’s the truth,” the ensign insisted. “They deliberately trapped us. They must have known all along what we were going to try. They let us try it. We’re caught, like rats in a trap.”

  There was no mistaking the implication of the man’s words. Although he didn’t say it, his tone indicated that Craig had led them into the worst possible booby-trap.

  The machine guns were still firing. Dimly audible from outside came a chorus of shouting—the battle cries of the Ogrum. Craig slipped forward to the entrance, looked out. His heart climbed up into his throat.

  The temple was completely surrounded. Or, as far as he could see, it was surrounded. From the number of Ogrum he could see in front, he did not doubt that the whole structure was circled. The Ogrum had stopped fighting the fires. It became apparent that they had never made any real effort to fight them but had only pretended to extinguish the blazes, meanwhile waiting for Craig to lead his group into the temple.

  It was a trap.

  But how had the Ogrum been able to set such a trap? Had they known all the time of the presence of the humans on the mountain above them? They had known something. Otherwise they would not have been able to set the trap. How had they learned of the attack? How had they known the exact way the attack would come?

  “Yah!” a voice shrilled from outside. “How do you like it now, you big fat-head?”

  Voronoff’s voice! Voronoff was out there! Craig’s first dazed thought was that Voronoff’s presence outside, among the Ogrum, was impossible. He tried to remember when he had last seen the man. He hadn’t seen Voronoff all day! Voronoff had not been a member of his group but he had assumed the man had attached himself to some other group!

  Voronoff had not attached himself to some other group. Voronoff had come secretly to the Ogrum. It was Voronoff who, as far as he knew them, had revealed the plans of the attack to the Ogrum. Voronoff was a traitor!

  “You wouldn’t believe me when I said you were just getting us all killed!” Voronoff exulted. “I wasn’t going to get myself killed with you fools. I told the Ogrum what you were planning. They’re going to make me a chief.”

  In a flash Craig saw why phase one and phase two of the attack had gone off so smoothly. The Ogrum had permitted the smashing of the hangar. What were a few planes? They could build more. What were a few grass huts? They could erect a thousand others. The destruction of the planes and the burning of part of their city was a small price to pay if they could trap all the remaining men of the Idaho.

  Craig cursed himself. He had not thought of the possibility of anyone turning traitor. He should have thought of it. Back there in the life-boat, while he was asleep, someone had stolen water. Voronoff was the only person who would have stooped to steal water when water meant life, and the only person clever enough to accuse Craig of the crime he, himself, had committed.

  “I should have choked that dog to death!” Craig said bitterly. “I should have thrown him to the sharks.”

  Captain Higgins had come forward and sized up the situation. “No use crying over spilt milk,” he said to Craig. “I don’t blame you for not thinking of a traitor and I think no one else will blame you. The question is, what are we going to do?”

  “What do you want?” Craig shouted.

  “The Ogrum demand unconditional surrender!” the answer came. “They say, if you will surrender, that half of you will have to be offered to the gods, but that the lives of the rest will be spared. Who shall be sacrificed and who shall be spared will be determined by lot. If you don’t surrender all of you will be taken prisoner and offered as sacrifices. You have five minutes to meet our demands.”

  * * * *

  Voronoff’s voice went into silence. Craig, tommy-gun ready, strained to see the man. Voronoff was hidden. He was not likely to offer himself as a target.

  “What are you going to do?” Captain Higgins asked. Tactfully, since Craig had planned and executed the rescue attempt, Higgins was making no effort to exert his own authority. “If I understand correctly, they offer half of us a chance to live, if we surrender.”

  “I don’t believe they will keep any promise they make,” Craig said slowly. “I think they are trying to trick us into surrendering. However I might be wrong. I am willing to put it to a vote. What do you say: Shall we surrender or shall we fight?”

  The narrow passage was full of sailors who had overheard everything that had been said. There was a moment of silence. Then a gruff voice growled.

  “I say fight!”

  A chorus instantly answered the first voice.

  “Fight the devils!”

  “They won’t ever give us a chance if we surrender.”

  “Fight our way out of here.”

  Captain Higgins listened. “They’re good boys,” he said, a suspicious quaver in his voice.

  “All right,” Craig said. “We fight. This temple is almost a fortress. In here, we can hold them off indefinitely. They don’t have artillery, so they can’t blast us out, and their planes have been destroyed, so they can’t bomb us. We’ll hold here until we have a chance to escape.”

  In the back of his mind was the thought that they did have a chance to escape. After all, phase four of the attack had not yet gone into operation. Phase four was due to start any minute now.

  “To the roof!” he ordered.

  By the time the five minutes of grace were up everybody was on the flat roof of the temple. The moon was just rising. It looked like a gigantic conflagration on the horizon.

  “Time is up!” Voronoff yelled, from some place of concealment. “What did you decide.”

  “We decided you could go to hell!” Craig answered. “If you want us, you’ve got to come and get us.”

  Hiding around the temple thousands of the Ogrum could be vaguely glimpsed. Captain Higgins surveyed the scene. “We command all approaches to the building,” he said. “If they try to charge us, it will be slaughter. We’ve still got a chance, Craig.”

  “You’re damned right we have!” the big man answered.

  “Except,” the captain continued thoughtfully, “for ammunition, food, and water, we’re all
right.”

  “If we’re not out of here by the time our ammunition runs out, we’ll never escape,” Craig answered. “However, we’ll be out of here in an hour.”

  “I hope you know what you’re talking about,” was Higgins’ only comment.

  The Ogrum were making no attempt to attack. Craig circled the roof of the temple, seeing that sub-machine guns covered all approaches. A wind, moving from the direction of the swamp, brought with it the sound of the dinosaurs. The scene was like a setting from some fantastic movie—a full moon burning like a huge fire on the horizon, incredible beasts screaming in the night, a group of embattled humans on the roof of a temple as old as time.

  “We’ve got them!” Craig thought. “They can’t get to us and they don’t dare attack. If they wait an hour—”

  * * * *

  In some hidden spot outside the temple something went plunk. The sound was not sharp enough to be called an explosion. It was a plunk, like a rock falling in a rain barrel.

  A small round object arched slowly through the air and hit on the roof of the temple. It also went plunk. No explosion. Just a plunk. A cloud of white smoke puffed out.

  “What the devil is that?” Craig thought uncertainly. “Are they throwing grenades at us? Was the first grenade a dud?”

  He started toward the grenade. A whiff of the smoke stung his nostrils, sent a warning bell clattering wildly in his brain.

  “Gas!” he yelled. “They’re throwing gas grenades at us. Stay away from that smoke.”

  The Ogrum had attacked the Idaho with their sleeping gas! The guards in the temple had carried sacks of what Craig had thought were ordinary grenades. They had been gas grenades!

  Plunk went the projector outside the temple. Plunk went the grenade that struck on the roof.

  Plunk, plunk, plunk—A shower of grenades came over. Gas swirled over the roof of the temple.

  “Knock out those projectors!” Craig shouted. He leaped to the wall of the temple, began firing. All around him other guns were letting go. Up to now it had been necessary to conserve ammunition as much as possible. If the projectors were not knocked out, no amount of ammunition would do the humans any good.

  The rattle of sub-machine guns was a continuous tumult of sound. Fires still burned in the city and the air was becoming heavy with smoke. All around the temple the Ogrum were lurking. They were not venturing into the open. Now and then they could be glimpsed darting from shelter to shelter.

  Plunk—plunk—plunk—

  More gas grenades hit on the roof.

  Somewhere near him Craig heard a man choke and gasp for breath. Everywhere, even above the rattle of the machine guns, he could hear men coughing. Something stung his lungs and he coughed himself. The machine gun fire began to thin out as choking men dropped their guns. Craig found himself firing blindly, searching for the hidden projectors. The plunk of the gas grenades was loud in his ears.

  “Tough luck,” a thin voice said near him.

  He looked around and saw Margy Sharp. The girl was holding a handkerchief over her nose and was trying to keep from breathing. She was swaying.

  “I feel like I want to go to sleep,” she whispered.

  The gas was getting to her. It was getting to others, too. Many of the sailors had fallen. Some of them were trying to drag themselves back to the edge of the roof, trying to lift guns with hands that no longer had the strength for the task.

  “We fought a good fight,” Margy Sharp whispered. “Too bad we lost.”

  “We haven’t lost yet,” Craig gritted.

  He was lying and he knew it. His only hope was phase four of the attack plan. Unless phase four went into operation within the space of minutes, they were doomed. “What the hell has happened to Michaelson?” he thought.

  Plunk, plunk, plunk, went the grenades.

  Had the scientist failed? Had something happened to Michaelson?

  * * * *

  The night was hideous with the yells of the Ogrum. Sensing victory, they were screaming with delight. Meanwhile, all over the roof of the temple, more of the gas grenades were exploding. The wind, which had quickened to a stiff breeze, swept much of the gas away. But not all of it. One whiff of it and a man lost half his efficiency. Three whiffs and he was asleep.

  A man in an officer’s uniform crawled to Craig’s feet, looked up at him. It was Captain Higgins.

  “I—I guess this is it,” the captain said.

  “I guess so,” Craig said miserably. The gas stung his lungs again and he coughed. Slowly, a little at a time, he could feel a deadly lassitude stealing over him. A weight was tugging at his knees, trying to force his legs to buckle. More than anything else in the world, he wanted to lie down and go to sleep. He fought against the impulse. From this threatened sleep a man would awaken all right—in the prison pen of the Ogrum, there to wait his turn to become a sacrifice to the sun.

  Two or three machine guns—no more—were still firing, holding off the Ogrum horde. When those guns stopped—

  The flames of the burning city danced in the night. The air was heavy with smoke. The screams of the dinosaurs were louder, as if the great beasts were excited by the conflagration in the city of the Ogrum. Craig was vaguely aware that only two guns were firing. In spite of all his efforts to resist the impulse, he sank to his knees. The grenades continued to plunk on the roof. Only one gun was firing. Beside him, Craig saw that Margy Sharp had gone quietly to sleep. She looked like a little girl who is all tired out with play and has decided to lie down and take a nap.

  Boom-boom! Boom-boom-boom!

  Five thudding explosions came through the night. They did not come from the temple, or near it. They were at least half a mile away.

  The sound lifted Craig to his feet.

  “Michaelson!” he screamed. He tried to look in the direction from which the sound of the explosions had come. The smoke was too heavy. He could not see.

  “Michaelson—” his voice was a whisper. “For God’s sake, hurry!”

  There was no answer. Craig waited. No more explosions came. He sank to his knees, fighting against the impulse to sleep. He was dimly aware that the screams of the Ogrum had died into abrupt silence. No more grenades were plunking on the roof. He wondered if the Ogrum were preparing to charge the temple, to strike down all who had strength left to oppose them. He lifted himself up, looked over the edge.

  The Ogrum were no longer watching the temple. They were staring in the direction of the explosions. They had come out into the open. He could see little groups of them nervously looking in the other direction.

  * * * *

  Dimly, in the distance, he heard the beginning thunder of sound. It was something like the vague roar of a starting avalanche, a rumble, a mutter, a dim murmur growing louder. The smoke was too thick for him to see what was happening.

  The murmur grew in volume. It became as loud as the roar of a tornado. The Ogrum stared toward it, trying to understand what it was. They were getting nervous, now. A few of them had started to run.

  Something came through the smoke. It came in a lumbering gallop, a huge and terribly frightened beast. It saw the fires in front of it. Screaming it tried to turn back. The pressure of the horde behind carried it along.

  A confused mass of dark bodies poured into the city. There were hundreds of them, thousands of them. Scared to the point of madness their one thought was how to escape. The smallest of them weighed more than two tons.

  Craig, fighting against the effect of the gas, sobbed in sudden relief.

  “Michaelson,” he whispered. “You got there in time. You did it! You did it—”

  Phase four of the attack plan had come into operation. Phase four called for Guru and the scientist to go around the edges of the vast swamp and set it on fire. Part of the swamp foliage would not burn under any circumstances. But great areas of dry reeds
would burn like tinder.

  The dinosaurs would run from the fires. The blazes would be set so the great monsters would have to flee toward the city. At the proper moment, the wall the Ogrum had built to keep them from the city would be blown up.

  The dinosaurs would stampede across the city.

  Craig remembered reading of the stampede of the long-horn cattle in the early days of the American west. Thousands of cattle, running madly, shook the Earth with the thunder of their hooves, destroyed everything that stood in their way.

  Not cattle, but dinosaurs, were stampeding across the city of the Ogrum.

  Too late, the Ogrum saw them coming. They tried to run. The great beasts trampled them into muck. Huts, struck by the maddened animals, flew to pieces. Many of them, blinded, not knowing where they were going, ran into the temple. The great building shuddered at each impact. Voronoff, caught somewhere in that wild stampede, must have known too late that he had deserted too soon, before he knew the complete plan of attack. Either he did not know of phase four or the Ogrum had not believed him when he told them about it.

  * * * *

  For hours, it seemed to Craig, the screams of the Ogrum echoed through the city. The screams were drowned in the earth-shaking thunder of the stampede. The herd of dinosaurs crossed the city, turned and swept along the edge of the bay. By the time the last of them had passed through, the only building left standing in the whole area was the temple. Everything else had been smashed flat. Smouldering fires were rising again in the wreckage of the huts. What the dinosaurs had started, fires would finish.

  When the last of the beasts had gone, Michaelson, his squad of sailors, and Guru came hurrying through the darkness. Guru was accompanied by dozens of his people, hastily recruited for the task of firing the swamp. Craig yelled at them.

  “Come up here and stand guard!” he shouted. “I’m going to take a nap.”

  * * * *

  CHAPTER VIII

  The End of Adventure

  Craig stood at the rail of the ship.