Invaders from the Infinite - John W. Campbell (the top 100 crime novels of all time .txt) 📗

rusty Voice. “The Scythe is slow, too slow. I bring new things,” it cackled in its cracked voice, “new things of my tools. See!” The clutching bones dropped the rattling Scythe, and the handle broke as it fell, and rotted before their eyes. “Heh, heh,” the Thing cackled as it watched. “Heh⁠—what Death touches, rots as he leaves it.” The grinning, blackened skull grinned wider, in an awful, leering cavity, rotting, twisted teeth showed. But from under his flapping robe, the skeletal hands drew something⁠—ray pistols!

“These⁠—these are swifter!” The Thing turned, and with a single leering glance behind, flowed once more through the wall.

A gasp, a stifled, groaning gasp ran through the hall, a half sob.

But far, far away they could hear something clanking, dragging its slow way along. Spellbound they turned to the farthest corner⁠—and looked down the long, long road that twined off in distance. A lone, luminous figure plodded slowly along it, his half human shamble bringing him rapidly nearer.

Larger and larger he loomed, clearer and clearer became the figure, and his burden. Broken, twisted steel, or metal of some sort, twisted and blackened.

“It’s over⁠—it’s over⁠—and my toys are here. I win, I always win. For I am the spawn of Mars, of War, and of Hate, the sister of War, and my toys are the things they leave behind.” It gesticulated, waving the twisted stuff and now through the haze, they could see them⁠—buildings. The framework of buildings and twisted liners, broken weapons.

It loomed nearer, the cavernous, glowing eyes under low, shaggy brows, became clear, the awful brutal hate, the lust of Death, the rotting flesh of Disease⁠—all seemed stamped on the Horror that approached.

“Ah!” It had seen them! “Ahh!” It dropped the buildings, the broken things, and shuffled into a run, toward them! Its face changed, the lips drew back from broken, stained teeth, the curling, cruel lips, and the rotting flesh of the face wrinkled into a grin of lust and hatred. The shaggy mop of its hair seemed to writhe and twist, the long, thin fingers grasped spasmodically as it neared. The torn, broken fingernails were visible⁠—nearer⁠—nearer⁠—nearer⁠—

“Oh, God⁠—stop it!” A voice shrieked out of the dark as someone leaped suddenly to his feet.

Simultaneously with the cry the Thing puffed into nothingness of energy from which it had sprung, and a great ball of clear, white glowing light came into being in the center of the room, flooding it with a light that dazzled the eyes, but calmed broken nerves.

XVIII Earth’s Defenses

“I am sorry, Arcot. I did not know, for I see I might have helped, but to me, with my ideas of horror, it was as you said, amusement,” said Torlos. They were sitting now in Arcot’s study at the cottage; Arcot, his father, Morey, Wade, Torlos, the three Ortolians and the Talsonian.

“I know, Torlos. You see, where I made my mistake, as I have said, was in forgetting that in doing as I did, picturing horror, like a snowball rolling, it would grow greater. The idea of horror, started, my mind pictured one, and it inspired greater horror, which in turn reacted on my all too reactive apparatus. As you said, the things changed as you watched, molding themselves constantly as my mind changed them, under its own initiative and the concentrated thoughts of all those others. It was a very foolish thing to do, for that last Thing⁠—well, remember it was, it existed, and the idea of hate and lust it portrayed was caused by my mind, but my mind could picture what it would do, if such were its emotions, and it would do them because my mind pictured them! And nothing could resist it!” Arcot’s face was white once more as he thought of the danger he had run, of the terrible consequences possible of that ‘amusement.’

“I think we had best start on the ship. I’ll go get some sleep now, and then we can go.”

Arcot led the way to the ship, while Torlos, Morey and Wade and Stel Felso Theu accompanied him. The Ortolians were to work on Earth, aiding in the detection of attacks by means of their mental investigation of the enemy.

“Well⁠—goodbye, Dad. Don’t know when I’ll be back. Maybe twenty-five thousand years from now, or twenty-five thousand years ago. But we’ll get back somehow. And we’ll clean out the Thessians!”

He entered the ship, and rose into space.

“Where are you going, Arcot?” asked Morey.

“Eros,” replied Arcot laconically.

“Not if my mind is working right,” cried Wade suddenly. All the others were tense, listening for inaudible sounds.

“I quite agree,” replied Arcot. The ship turned about, and dived toward New York, a hundred thousand miles behind now, at a speed many times that of light as Arcot snapped into time. Across the void, Zezdon Fentes’ call had come⁠—New York was to be attacked by the Thessians, New York and Chicago next. New York because the orbits of their two forts were converging over that city in a few minutes!

They were in the atmosphere, screaming through it as their relux glowed instantaneously in the Heaviside layer, then was through before damage could be done. The screen was up.

Scarcely a minute after they passed, the entire heavens blazed into light, the roar of tremendous thunders crashing above them, great lightning bolts rent the upper air for miles as enormous energies clashed.

“Ah⁠—they are sending everything they have against that screen, and it’s hot. We have ten of our biggest tube stations working on it, and more coming in, to our total of thirty, but they have two forts, and Lord knows how many ships.

“I think me I’m going to cause them some worrying.”

Arcot turned the ship, and drove up again, now at a speed very low to them but as they had the time-field up, very great. They passed the screen, and a tremendous bolt struck the ship. Everything in it was shielded, but the static was still great enough to cause them some trouble as