The Great White Space (22 page)

I put that from me. There remained the unmistakable, indeed inescapable, fact that I had to go back towards the Great White Space. Alive or dead Scarsdale had to be found. And there was only me left to either rescue Scarsdale from the same abominable fate which had overtaken our companions or, tragic thought, to vindicate his memory. When I had come to this conclusion I became calmer, stopped my pacing about and checked my revolver and ammunition; I seized a canvas bag and putting the remaining five grenades in it set off back up the tunnel.

2

I had walked only a few hundred yards when I became aware of a low, mutterd mumbling up ahead. The light was growing in intensity now or my courage might perhaps have failed me, so 1 merely gripped the bag more firmly and went on. I could not at first place the direction from which the sound was coming. At one moment it resembled the faint buzz of insects, such as one might hear on a hot summer day in happier circumstances, when hovering on the edge of sleep.

But the idea of insects in the connotation of these repellent underground caverns was abhorrent in the extreme and my resolution took a hard knock at the outset. The faint mumble seemed to recede and advance like waves of the sea as I went down the corridor of ever-strengthening light and I donned my goggles in order that they should be ready when the radiance became too strong for my naked eyes. The insidious murmur now resembled a human being whispering some obscene thought in one of the caves almost beyond earshot and that was even more unpleasant, if anything.

But conversely, I felt my courage reviving. Might not Scarsdale have suffered some accident and even now, on hands and knees, be trying to make his way back to me, muttering some plea for help? This thought made me suck in my breath with an audible sound and life seemed to flow into my limbs; I went on down the corridor at a jog-trot.

The light grew stronger, washing in like surf over the black walls of the caves. There was no sign of Scarsdale; nothing moved in the whole of the corridor before me but the mumbling buzz grew in my ears, not at all overborne by the throbbing vibrations of the great pulse which were now again growing in intensity. I made sure I had my ear-plugs handy and switched off the lamp in my helmet. 1 was not sure how long these batteries lasted and would need the light for the return.

I dared not think too closely of my returning without Scarsdale; that was a horror which did not bear contemplation in the circumstances in which 1 now found myself placed. My breath whistled uneasily in my throat as I hurried uphill, the grenades making an unpleasant clicking noise as they bounced together in the canvas holder in my left hand.

My right hand held the revolver poised but despite the rigid grip of my fingers round the butt and trigger guard I could not stop the trembling in my fingers. Strange convention that impelled me still to cling to such a traditional weapon as a firearm. We had all seen how ineffective they had proved in our abortive battles with the slug-creatures, yet training was so ingrained that one clung to habit even where it had been proved useless. Thus I proved to myself that not only scientists cling uselessly to empiricism. Though of course scientists would then change their methods, whereas I was still clinging literally and pointlessly to mine.

So I reasoned jerkily as I pounded onwards into the strengthening light, prepared for anything as 1 neared the slight curve of the corridor which cut me off from sight of the approaches to the Great White Space, while all the while the mumbled mutter of the hidden whisperers grew with the thudding pulse in my ears.

As I rounded the slight curve the pulsations grew markedly stronger and the intensity of the light seemed to drastically undergo a change. The paleness turned from an opaque milkiness to the sharp brilliance of sunshine and then as I came suddenly out into the featureless arena where the walls of the caves fell away altogether the light seemed to dazzle my eyeballs and a pale thunderclap sounded in my ears. I clamped the goggles down over my eyes at once and as I staggered, smitten with the tremendous strength of the shafts of luminescence, the whispering hissed at my elbow as though the unknown mumblers were only a foot or so from where I stood.

I put in the ear-plugs as the throbbing grew to intolerable proportions. I was now bathed in liquid phosphorescence so bright that even my arms seemed to be lapped with living fire and so incandescent that the extremities of my limbs had disappeared. I narrowed my eyes to slits as I ran on and reached for the first grenade. It was like peering into a seething cauldron; the Great White Space was alive with throbbing pulsations of living light and through this blanched hole which led into the universe hopped and lurched not only the flopping slug-things we had earlier encountered but the living counterparts of the creatures we had seen in the jars.

They were far off and appeared not to have seen me as they flowed in a ghastly stream in and out of the luminescent circle on their obscure errands. But what took my eye and filled me with unutterable relief was the sight of the durable figure of Scarsdale. He stood to one side, almost in the spot where we had the last battle with the things in the side-galleries. His beard glowed with living fire as he waved and gestured to me excitedly.

'Coming, Scarsdale,' I said, relief surging through me. My words echoed and boomed through the galleries and disturbed the hopping things that crowded in and out of that horrifying door into space. They hesitated, broke ranks and once again that vile bleating and lowing noise echoed under the arch of the caverns. I took the pin out of a grenade and held it tightly. I altered course and ran towards Scarsdale. He hobbled up to meet me and I was worried that he might be injured but he continued to wave reassuringly.

There was now about a hundred yards separating us but the slug-creatures, half seen from the corner of my eye were rapidly closing halfway between the two of us.

'Hurry, Professor,' I called. 'We shall be cut off.'

The burly form of Scarsdale continued to wave.

'There is no danger, Plowright,' he called back. 'I have made the most fantastic discoveries.'

As I got closer to him I saw a surge of the winged insect-like creatures appear from the rock galleries behind him. Once again came the leathery beat of the horny wing-cases which had so haunted my dreams.

'Behind you,' I called, anxiety blurring the edges of my voice. I turned on my heel abruptly and hurled my grenade into the mass of hopping things which were crowding through the Great White Space to separate the two of us. The bleating cries changed to those of alarm as the grenade rolled onwards. The explosion made a sharp bang which slapped at the side of the cavern, red flame bloomed, darkening the brilliance of white light and angry pieces of metal buzzed vindictively about. There were again the moans of distress and the stench of scorched tissue but more and more of the flabby creatures, their bundled tentacles groping and writhing, were coming on. I threw three grenades rapidly with the strength of desperation and before the first explosion slapped back from the cave walls I was halfway across the distance which separated me from Scarsdale.

By now several of the things were almost level with the pair of us and still coming on, slopping across the cave floor with incredible speed. I called again to the Professor to make haste but he seemed to be slowing now, as though he were exhausted.

The horrible stench, which had been ever present, was now intensified and again I narrowed my eyes to slits as the pulsations of white light appeared to ululate to the rhythmic beat of those devilish vibrations. I glimpsed the forms of the slug-things all about me now, their monadelphous outlines fibrillating and undulating in the pitiless glare from outer space. Behind them I caught sight of one or two of the winged beasts, who seemed to be balefully directing the activities of the others.

But I was now almost up to Scarsdale and there was still a wide patch of cave floor which would give us a means of escape back to the blessed dimness of the caverns, if only we had the few more seconds necessary. I made a last despairing spurt and Scarsdale, glancing up, gave me a smile of encouragement and welcome. Uselessly I had my revolver in my left hand and took the opportunity to get off two or three shots into the air. I did not even bother to aim at the slug- things as I knew the effect of the bullets on them would be less than useless.

But the creatures paused in their bleating progress just long enough for me to reach him. He tottered as I caught him by the arm and swung him to face me.

'Thank God, I was in time. Professor,' I panted. 'We have only a few seconds.'

He shook his head.

'You don't understand, Plowright,' he said. 'We are on the verge of the most incredible discoveries.'

The slug-creatures started to slop forward again as he spoke. I felt irritation lancing through my brain but I forced myself to keep calm. This was no time for the scientific mind to become predominant.

'We are in mortal danger, Professor,' I shouted, not noticing that he was without his ear-plugs. 'Why did you not wake me?'

I pulled him back behind me, towards the welcoming shade of the inner passages. He did not resist; indeed, he seemed almost without will, as though his latest investigations had temporarily exhausted him.

The glare from the Great White Space made everything look blanched and strange but the Professor's attitude alarmed me; there was something about his head which was not quite right. He looked ill and somehow crumpled. Perhaps he had been attacked by the creatures and was still suffering from injuries. He kept his head turned away from me as if his neck hurt him. I saw stickiness on his clothing then. My vision blurred and I slipped on the unspeakable foulness of that unholy floor.

I pulled Scarsdale again and he broke into a shambling run beside me.

'Quickly, Professor,' I shouted, 'or we shall be too late.'

He nodded then as if he understood. But just at that moment some of the slug-creatures, who were getting dangerously close, came up towards us. They mewed with that strange, distressing call and the whole air seemed to be filled with that unearthly vibrancy.

Scarsdale had slowed his pace again as if he were waiting for them.

'You do not understand, Plowright,' he said again. 'There are fantastic things to be learned here, if only one has the courage. I must tell you. I beg you not to resist further.'

I did not understand him and turned round, keeping my grip on his arm.

Three of the slug-things were quite close now and moved hesitantly towards me, as though they sensed the dangers of the last grenade in my hand. When I looked back at Scarsdale he once again had his head averted.

'Are you injured. Professor?' I said.

He shook his head. I removed my eyes from him once more and then turned again to the menacing line of things that were spread out in front of us. They waved their tendrils slowly, their forms half-transparent in the brilliant light. I glanced at the group nearest to me and then my knees buckled and there came an uncontrollable trembling in my limbs. I glanced wildly over my shoulder, saw my retreat was clear into the blessed darkness.

Scarsdale smiled at me encouragingly and then it happened. I glanced stupefied from him to the slug-things and then I shrieked and shrieked as though I would never stop. I tasted the bitter taste of blood and bile in my mouth and my brain was a seething cauldron of white-hot terror. I hurled the Professor from me and, with the mewing cries of the slug- things vibrating in my ears and with that unutterable stench in my nostrils I fled from the Great White Space and plunged headlong into the tunnels for my life.

1

I fled as though from nightmare. I ran until the breath was throbbing in my throat and the brilliance of the Great White Space had faded to the dim luminosity of the further corridors. Once or twice I must have cannoned into the walls because I later found my clothing torn and blood on my hands and fingernails. At some point I had the good sense to switch on my helmet lamp and its bright yellow beam sliced and bobbed along the corridor like a beckoning finger.

Mercifully, I had dropped the remaining hand grenade and my pistol or I might have done myself an injury in my horrified and agitated condition. My head was a red-hot furnace, perspiration dripped down my face and I reeled and lurched like a man in fever. It was not until some time had passed that I thought to remove my goggles and then I hurled them behind me. I found myself back at the trolley but so great was my fear and the shrieking state of my nerves that I dare not stop there.

My mind could not encompass the immensity of the journey which faced me so I thought only of getting through the next few hours; of surviving until then, when I would try to make plans. At least, I reasoned this out later; for my knowledge of the events while they were taking place is muddled and blurred. There was food on the trolley; I knew that. There were weapons and Very flares too; those meant survival, life and the sanity of the outside world. At the moment I cared not whether I lived or died but if I died at least let it be with the sweet skies of the outer earth above me and the kiss of the sun on my face.

I longed for the fresh breezes of the upper earth and was terrified of dying like a rat in a hole down here, miles beneath the surface. So somehow, though normally I would have thought it beyond my strength at that time, I manhandled the trolley, defective and difficult to wheel as it was, and set off in the southward direction. Every so often I would stop and listen with straining ears for the faintest scratch of a footfall, the rasp of leathery wings or the sinister whispering that would have been the sign that I was pursued. My sanity hung by a thread at those moments and I would not, for all the money in the world, endure the tortures I endured during those next few days.

Indeed my cheeks were sunken like an old man and my hair a shade or two whiter when I eventually ended my ordeal. But there was nothing moving in all the long corridors behind me; the warm wind blew from the north and the faint pulse, hourly growing feebler, again pumped out its sinister message. I put the sound at my back and it gradually died away though it persisted for many a long mile, just as it had on the inward journey.