The Great White Space (21 page)

Scarsdale and I had prepared earplugs of cotton wool on this occasion and with these in position we were somewhat insulated from reality, as both felt we must be if we were to survive. But the lessening of our sensibilities which this would imply, particularly of hearing and sight, carried its own dangers and the Professor and I had previously arranged that each would protect the other's back in an emergency.

We stopped the trolley where the ghastly pulsating brilliance of the ever-increasing light source beat upon the floor of the corridor like a physical flood. We had piled the grenades into a wicker basket which had once contained batteries for our generators and each taking a handle we carried it between us, leaving the other hand free for the revolvers. Despite the plugs and goggles the intensity of the light source combined with the insidious beat of the unknown pulse induced a sense of nausea in me as we at last came out on the great disc of glowing radiance that Scarsdale had christened - so aptly - The Great White Space.

Nothing stirred, there was no movement in the far shadows behind but newly-created slime trails described whorled patterns on the rock floor before us.

Both of us dropped to the ground, despite the increased stench here, and tried to make what we could of this enigmatic trail. The surface of the corridor, of course, was too hard to carry any impression such as might be made by the dragging heels of Van Damm’s recumbent figure but the trails did tell us something. They went, not as we had feared, directly towards the pale oval of white-hot luminosity that vibrated and throbbed in time to the drum-beat but curved off to one side; a rocky spur projected here and led to an area of shadow, further back, and beyond the rim of the pale fire of space.

Dragging the trolley behind us, Scarsdale and I made our way over, cautiously glancing behind and to either side. As we gained the shadowed area the stench became more unbearable. It was like an open, suppurating wound from a patient suffering from some loathsome disease. Even Scarsdale seemed affected and I could see beads of moisture glittering in his beard and running down in rivulets across his chin. We now had our backs to the white luminosity and had to adjust our eyes to the greatly changed conditions.

There was a narrow shelf of rock on which we now stood; both of us seized a couple of grenades and put them in our pockets in case of emergency. We pulled the trolley as close in to the shelf as possible, in case we had to leave in a hurry and walked across the entrances of three dark caverns which were now materialising from the gloom.

We both saw Van Damm's hunched form at the same time; abandoning precaution we were about to run forward when I put my hand on Scarsdale's shoulder and arrested our hasty action. With my recent horrifying experience fresh in my mind I had no wish to repeat the ordeal; both Scarsdale and I by now thought it extremely unlikely that our unfortunate companion could have survived. There was a bare chance, of course. Van Damm was lying with his face to the rock wall; except that he was on the ground the posture was hideously reminiscent of Holden. I had no desire to see Van Damm's I inanimate figure collapse in disintegrating ruin and for that I reason my feet remained resolutely fast to the floor of the I cavern.

But it was not so much Van Damm as a small, furtive movement in the dimness which had caught the corner of my eye and registered itself as a minute flicker. I directed my companion's gaze towards it and we both removed our goggles. I had difficulty in preventing myself from screaming; I now saw that a long tube of some grey-coloured material stretched from beneath Van Damm's collapsed body. It led back several yards to the edge of one of the cave entrances.

Round the corner was peering one of the most hideous visages it has ever been my misfortune to encounter, even in the grip of nightmare. The creature's face was grey; it slobbered from slit-like mouth and red-rimmed nostrils and it was this which gave off the nauseating slime which littered the floor of the caves. The eyes were large, jelly-like plates covered by some form of pulsating membrane, which pulsed and glowed so that one moment the lids were opaque and at the next the greenish-tinged core of the eye was staring through. The ears were pointed and bat-like; yellowed and crooked teeth glinted among the slime in its mouth.

The grey tube grew into an elephant-like proboscis which waved slowly about as the thing sucked or pumped fluids either out or into Van Damm's body. Neither of us could make out which and I was as near collapse as I had been at any time during this expedition. Mercifully, I could not see any more of the creature, the bulk of which was hidden beyond the cave entrance but it could not have been less than fifty feet high. It had a scaly claw which it used to probe the surface of the tube from time to time. I did not think it had seen us, for some obscure reason, and Scarsdale and I each took the pin out of a grenade.

Then, as I moved slowly forward my foot scraped on a projection in the tunnel floor; this seemed to disturb the nightmare being and as it turned to face us, I heard again the strange rustling I had heard so long ago at the entrance to these caves of madness. The thing had great leathery wings, in a transparent casing on its shoulders and these brushed together as it moved. The tube was withdrawn with lightning rapidity; whip-like, it snaked back along the floor. Scarsdale and I had each thrown a grenade by this time; the second set followed while the first were in the air. We flung ourselves down as scarlet flame spurted in the gloom and fragments of metal went whanging viciously about the cavern. Above the crackle of charred flesh as we rolled back along the floor into the light, was a high, bleating moan which seemed to penetrate my eardrums, even with the cotton wool plugs.

I looked up, rigid with shock. The moan was now mingled with shrill, urgent screams; then I saw beyond the writhing horror of the winged creature, the flabby slobbing figures of the monadelphous things and their urgent bleating sounded above the crackle of flame. Scarsdale had rolled back to the trolley and got off two more grenades as I rose and went over to the form of Van Damm. I was prepared now for what I saw but the shock was, if anything, far greater than that of my experience with Holden.

Perhaps we had interrupted the bat creature at a crucial moment of the metamorphosis or possibly the process was a long elaborate one. I was prepared for anything but the ruined mask of Van Damm's dead features which confronted me. Poor Van Damm's lower jaw had been quite torn off in some disgusting manner, exposing the upper teeth and splintered bone of the jaw connections with long driblets of blackened blood hanging down from the ruin. More disgusting still, the skull had been opened in some ingenious manner - perhaps with a cutting tool on the bat creature's trunk — and the brainbox exposed.

Mercifully, I had no time to linger over this nauseating sight because of Scarsdale's shouted warning and then a whole wave of the bleating jelly-things were upon us and I was too busy pulling grenade pins, hurling, retreating and then surging forward again so that the incidents of the next half hour became a vague, confused jumble in my mind. Mingled with the physical weariness was a hard, burning anger at the obscenities we were confronting, so that in a strange way unknown to myself, I lost all fear.

We were insulated from the noise, of course, by our helmets and the ear-plugs which was just as well, as the din as the explosions rolled reverberating down miles of corridor must have been tremendous. The creatures, for all their agility and hopping-motion got in each other's way because of their vast size so that we seemed to create a giant slaughter in that corner of the cavern.

But curiously we never found a single corpse of the jelly- beings; the bat-like creature was different and that cadaver had soon assumed a blue putrescence and gradually shrivelled away. We found only patches of slime upon the ground after each fresh encounter with the hopping monstrosities; they seemed to help one another with their little hands and tendrils and more than once, as the battle raged over the central area which led to the throbbing vacancy of the Great White Space, we saw those not wounded assisting others seriously disabled back into the pulsating brilliance, where they disappeared from our sight.

At last, when we had only a few grenades left, they drew off and an awful silence descended. Scarsdale and I found ourselves dirty, smoke-grimed, perspiring and utterly weary in a slime-crusted arena marked only by the long tracks where we had dragged the trolley around behind us. Eyes narrowed to slits beneath the dark goggles we gazed achingly towards the burning whiteness which led to outer space; nothing moved in that vile phosphorescence and the only movements were our own; the only sound the faint scrape of our own footfall.

We retreated slowly, withdrawing two or three hundred yards down the corridor, into a mercifully more shadowed area where we crouched behind the trolley, and, on Scarsdale assuming the office of sentry, debated our position. There was little, or nothing we could now do; three of our companions had been killed - though as yet our tired minds could not comprehend the enormity of this loss. Our primary duty was now to ourselves and to the world. There was no further choice; Scarsdale, in his own mind, I am certain, had contemplated penetrating even the vastness of The Great White Space and had our way not been initially barred by the creatures he would have pushed on — with or without the rest of .us. That course was denied us and all that remained was to extricate ourselves without incurring any further danger, make our way back to civilisation and warn the world of what we had witnessed.

'We must gather our strength,' said Scarsdale. 'I will take the first watch while you get some rest.'

He was still the leader but even as I denied being tired the truth was that I was exhausted mentally and physically. Though his robust frame and phlegmatic exterior made it difficult to believe, I felt also that Scarsdale himself was very near to breaking point. Neither of us was in a fit state to walk more than a few hundred yards let alone be in a posture to beat off a further attack.

We had to have rest and the safest and most obvious course, in the comparatively secure part of the tunnel to which we had retreated was for each to sleep for an hour. Then we would be able to carry on in a relatively refreshed condition. Scarsdale had no sooner pressed his point than I felt a great heaviness on my eyelids. I laid my head upon my hands and slept.

1

When I awoke I had at first difficulty in remembering where I was. It seemed dark and almost impossible to see. My throat too was dry and dusty and I was conscious of an aching in all my limbs. I had not eaten for some time and was beginning to feel the faint stirrings of hunger. I had fallen sideways, I found, and was now lying with my head against the side wall of the tunnel. As soon as I was fully awake I at once became aware of the horror of the situation.

I struggled immediately into a sitting position, the breath rasping in my throat. I had somewhat foolishly left my goggles in situ and I now found, when I had removed them, that there were deep grooves cut into my forehead and the back of my neck. But of course I could see quite clearly in the faint light and my eyes first fell upon the trolley with its twisted axle, which had nevertheless served us so well.

I pulled myself slowly upright by its metal framework, shocked to discover how exhausted I was. There was a trembling in all my limbs and a momentary dizziness in front of my eyes, which I put down to the reaction to the events of the past few hours. I supported myself by one hand against the tunnel wall and as my vision cleared I became aware of the extreme quietness in this portion of the tunnel. At the same time I saw Scarsdale's revolver lying on the ground at the spot where I had last seen him.

The shock was as vivid as a douche of cold water in my face and I was suddenly awake, my raw nerves fretting afresh, a nameless fear tugging at the corners of my mind. I had imagined that Scarsdale had been sitting on the other side of the trolley, his back to it and facing down the tunnel towards the source of light and from which any danger must come. At first I was almost too concerned and worried to take the few steps necessary to confirm or dispel my fears.

It took a considerable effort of will to move. I had my revolver out now and holding it in front of me and with my other hand hooked over the rail of the trolley I edged round. I expected some horrific sight and relief flooded over me when I became aware that the space behind the trolley was filled with nothing more tangible than shadow. Professor Scarsdale was not there. But this fact, coupled with the unusual circumstance of the revolver lying on the ground, had assumed its true significance by this time. The realisation that all could not be well stung like acid and seemed to sear my nerves making me at once both wide awake and half-frantic with worry.

I was immediately drenched with varying emotions and ran back up the tunnel towards the strengthening light, calling for the Professor. Nothing answered except the hideous echoes of my own voice which seemed to reverberate along aching miles of tunnel towards the infinitely remote entrance to his abode of despair beneath the Black Mountains. My fear of the slug-creatures was momentarily submerged in my greater terror at being left entirely alone in this abomination.

I dare not dwell on the suppositions which this released, lest my sanity might totter and I ran up and down the passage for several minutes, quite demented. Then, coming to myself and pressing my trembling hands together I forced my shrieking nerves into calmness. I could only assume that some harm had befallen Scarsdale or he would have replied to my shouts; or, he might perhaps have decided to explore the farther regions of the Great White Space on his own, beyond earshot. Or, thirdly, he was already past all human aid. By this slow and laboured reasoning did I seek to calm my nerves. There was a fourth possibility; that he had gone back along the tunnel in the opposite direction but this I immediately discounted. It was against all our reasoning — unless something alien or unusual had appeared in that direction.