Beyond the Vanishing Point

by Ray Cummings

  CHAPTER II

  We soared over the divided channel of the St. Lawrence, between Orleansand the mainland. Montmorency Falls in a moment showed dimly whitethrough the murk to our left, a great hanging veil of ice higher thanNiagara. Further ahead, the lights of the little village of St. Anne deBeaupre were visible with the gray-black towering hills behind them.

  "Swing left, George. Over the mainland. That's St. Anne. We pass thisside of it. Put the mufflers on. This damn thing roars like a towersiren."

  I cut in the muffler and switched off our wing-lights. It was illegalbut we were past all thought of that. We were both desperate; the slowprudent process of acting within the law had nothing to do with thisaffair. We both knew it.

  Our little plane was dark, and amid the sounds of this night blizzardour muffled engine couldn't be heard.

  Alan touched me. "There are his lights; see them?"

  We had passed St. Anne. The hills lay ahead--a wild mountainous countrystretching northward to the foot of Hudson Bay. The blizzard was roaringout of the North and we were heading into it. I saw, on what seemed likea dome-shaped hill perhaps a thousand feet above the river level, asmall cluster of lights which marked Polter's property.

  "Fly over it once, George," Alan said. "Low--we can chance it. And finda place to land near the walls."

  We presently had it under us. I held the plane at five hundred feet, andcut our speed to the minimum of twenty miles an hour facing the gale,though it was sixty or seventy when we turned. There were a score or twoof hooded ground lights. But there was little reflection aloft, and inthe murk of the snowfall I felt we could escape notice.

  We crossed, turned and went back in an arc following Polter's curvedouter wall. We had a good view of it. A weird enough looking place, hereon its lonely hilltop. No wonder the wealthy "Frank Rascor" had attainedlocal prominence!

  The whole property was irregularly circular, perhaps a mile in diametercovering the almost flat dome of the hilltop. Around it, completelyenclosing it, Polter had built a stone and brick wall. A miniature ofthe Great Wall in China! We could see that it was fully thirty feet highwith what evidently were naked high-voltage wires protecting its top.There were half a dozen little gates, securely barred, with doubtless aguard at each of them.

  Within the walls there were several buildings: a few small stone housessuggesting workmen's dwellings; an oblong stone structure with smokefunnels which looked like a smelter; a huge domelike spread oftranslucent glass over what might have been the top of a mineshaft. Itlooked more like the dome of an observatory--an inverted bowl fully ahundred feet wide and equally as high, set upon the ground. What did itcover?

  And there was Polter's residence--a castlelike brick and stone buildingwith a tower not unlike a miniature of the Chateau Frontenac. We saw astone corridor on the ground connecting the lower floor of the castlewith the dome, which lay about a hundred feet to one side.

  Could we chance landing inside the wall? There was a dark, level expanseof snow where we could have done it, but our descending plane doubtlesswould have been discovered. But the mile-wide inner area was dark inmany places. Spots of light were at the little wall-gates. There was aglow all along the top of the wall. Lights were on in Polter's house;they slanted out in yellow shafts to the nearby white ground. But forthe rest, the whole place was dark, save a dim glow from under the dome.

  I shook my head at Alan's suggestion that we land inside the walls. Wehad circled back and were a mile or so off toward the river. "Thetrees--and you saw guards down there. But that low stretch outside thegate on this side...."

  A plan was coming to me. Heaven knows it was desperate enough, but wehad no alternative. We would land and accost one of the gate guards.Force our way in. Once inside the wall, on foot in the darkness of thisblizzard, we could hide; slip up to that dome. Beyond that myimagination could not go.

  We landed in the snow a quarter of a mile from one of the gates. We leftthe plane and plunged into the darkness.

  It was a steady upward slope. A packed snowfield was underfoot, firmenough to hold our weight, with a foot or so of loose, soft snow on itstop. The falling flakes whirled around us. The darkness was solid. Ourhelmeted leather-furred flying suits were soon shapeless with agathering white shroud. We carried our Essens in our gloved hands. Thenight was cold, around zero I imagine, though with that biting wind itfelt far colder.

  From the gloom a tiny spot of light loomed up.

  "There it is, Alan. Easy now! Let me go first." The wind tore away mywords. We could see the narrow rectangle of bars at the gate, with aglow of light behind them.

  "Hide your gun, Alan." I gripped him. "Do you hear me?"

  "Yes."

  "Let me go first. I'll do the talking. When he opens the gate, let mehandle him. You--if there are two of them--you take the other."

  We emerged from the darkness, into the glow of light by the gate. I hadthe horrible feeling that a shot would greet us. A challenge came, atfirst in French and then in English.

  "Stop! What do you want?"

  "To see Mr. Rascor."

  We were up to the bars now, shapeless hooded bundles of snow and frost.A man stood in the doorway of a lighted little cubby behind the bars. Ablack muzzle in his hand was leveled at us.

  "He sees no one. Who are you?"

  Alan was pressing at me from behind. I shoved him back, and took a stepforward. I touched the bars.

  "My name is Fred Davis. Newspaperman from Montreal I must see Mr.Rascor."

  "You cannot. You may send in your call. The mouthpiece is there--outthere to the left. Bare your face; he talks to no one without the faceimage."

  The guard had drawn back into his cubby; there was only his extendedhand and the muzzle of his weapon left visible.

  I took a step forward. "I don't want to talk by phone. Won't you openthe gate? It's cold out here. We have important business. We'll waitwith you."

  Abruptly the gate lattice slid aside. Beyond the cubby doorway was theopen darkness within the wall. A scuffed path leading inward from thegate showed for a few feet.

  I walked over the threshold, with Alan crowding me. The Essen in my coatpocket was leveled. But from the cubby doorway, I saw that the guard wasgone! Then I saw him crouching behind a metal shield. His voice rangout.

  "Stand!"

  A light struck my face--a thin beam from a television sender beside me.It all happened in an instant, so quickly Alan and I had barely time tomake a move. I realized my image was now doubtless being presented toPolter. He would recognize me!

  I ducked my head, yelling, "Don't do that!"

  It was too late! The guard had received a signal. I heard its buzz.

  From the shield a tiny jet of fluid leapt at me. It struck my hood.There was a heavy sickening-sweet smell. It seemed like chloroform. Ifelt my senses going. The cubby room was turning dark, was roaring.

  I think I fired at the shield. And Alan leapt aside. I heard the fainthiss of his Essen, and his choked, horrified voice:

  "George, run! Don't fall!"

  I crumpled; slid into blackness. And it seemed, as I went down, thatAlan's inert body was falling on top of me....

  * * * * *

  I recovered after a nameless interval, a phantasmagoria of wild, druggeddreams. My senses came slowly. At first, there were dim muffled voicesand the tread of footsteps. Then I knew that I was lying on the ground,and that I was indoors. It was warm. My overcoat was off. Then Irealized that I was bound and gagged.

  I opened my eyes. Alan was lying inert beside me, roped and with a blackgag around his face and in his mouth. We were in a huge dim open space.Presently, as my vision cleared, I saw that the dome was overhead. Thiswas a circular, hundred-foot-wide room. It was dimly lighted. Thefigures of men were moving about, their great misshapen shadows shiftingwith them. Twenty feet from me there was a pile of golden rock--chunksof gold the size of a man's fist, or his head, and larger, heapedloosely into a mound ten feet high.


  Beyond this pile of ore, near the center of the room, twenty feet abovethe concrete floor, there was a large hanging electrolier. It cast acircular glow downward. Under it I saw a low platform raised a foot ortwo above the ground. A giant electro-microscope was hung with itstwenty foot cylinder above the platform. Its intensification tubes wereglowing in a dim phosphorescent row on a nearby bracket. A man sat in achair on the platform at the microscope's eyepiece.

  I saw all this with a brief glance, then my attention went to a whitestone slab under the giant lense. It rested on the platform floor, atwo-foot square surface of smooth white marble. A little roped railing afew inches high fenced it. And in its center lay a fragment of goldenquartz the size of a walnut!

  There was a movement across my line of vision. Two figures advanced. Irecognized both of them. And I strained at my bonds; mouthed the gagwith futile, frenzied effort. I could no more than writhe; and Icouldn't make a sound. I lay, after a moment exhausted, and stared withhorror.

  The familiar hunched figure of Polter advanced toward the microscope.And with him, his huge hand holding her wrists, was Babs. They werenearly fifty feet from me, but with the light over them I could see themclearly. Babs' slim figure was clad in a long skirted dress--pale blue,now, with the light on it. Her long black hair had fallen disheveled toher shoulders. I couldn't see her face. She did not cry out. Polter washalf dragging her as she resisted him; and then abruptly she ceasedstruggling.

  I heard his guttural voice. "That iss better."

  They mounted the platform. They were very small and seemed to be faraway. I blinked. Horror surged over me. Their figures were dwindling asthey stood there. Polter was saying something to the man at themicroscope. Other men were nearby, watching. All were normal, savePolter and Babs. A moment passed. Polter was standing by the chair inwhich the man at the microscope was sitting. And Polter's head barelyreached its seat! Babs was clinging to him now. Another moment and theywere both tiny figures down by the chair-leg. Then they began walkingwith swaying steps toward the miniature railing of the white slab. Thewhite reflection from the slab plainly illumined them. Polter's arm wasaround Babs. I had not realized how small they were until I saw Polterlift the rope of the little four-inch fence, and he and Babs stooped andwalked under it. The fragment of quartz lay a foot from them in thecenter of the white surface. They walked unsteadily toward it. But soonthey were running.

  My horrified senses whirled. Then abruptly I felt something touch myface! Alan and I were lying in shadow. No one had noticed my writhingmovements, and Alan was still in drugged unconsciousness. Something tinyand light and soundless as a butterfly wing brushed my face! I jerked myhead aside. On the floor, within six inches of my eyes, I saw the tinyfigure of a girl an inch high! She stood, with a warning gesture to herlips--a human girl in a filmy flowing robe. Long, pale golden tresseslay on her white shoulders; her face, small as my little fingernail,colorful as a miniature painted on ivory, was so close to my eyes that Icould see her expression--warning me not to move.

  There was a faint glow of light on the floor where she stood, but in amoment she moved out of it. Then I felt her brush against the back of myhead. My ear was near the ground. A tiny warm hand touched my ear lobe;clung to it. A tiny voice sounded in my ear.

  "Please do not move your head. You might kill me!"

  There was a pause. I held myself rigid. Then the tiny voice came again.

  "I am Glora, a friend. I have the drug! I will help you!"