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diff --git a/23535.txt b/23535.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a6f1581 --- /dev/null +++ b/23535.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1272 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Invaders, by Benjamin Ferris + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Invaders + +Author: Benjamin Ferris + +Release Date: November 18, 2007 [EBook #23535] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INVADERS *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + The Invaders + + _BY BENJAMIN FERRIS_ + + Heading by Vincent Napoli + +[Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from Weird Tales March 1951. +Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright +on this publication was renewed.] + +[Illustration: _Magic--there's no such thing. But the crops were +beginning to grow backwards...._] + + +Big Joe Merklos was the first of them. He appeared at the Wide Bend +National Bank one day, cash in hand. The charm of him, his flashing +smile, the easy strength in his big body, were persuasive +recommendations. But the bank's appraisal scarcely got that far. Wasn't +he the first buyer in fifteen years for that bone-yard of lonely dreams, +Dark Valley? + +The county seat of Wide Bend presided over three valleys, corresponding +to the forks of the Sallinook River. Once, Dark Valley had been the +richest of these. Solid houses and barns stood among orchards laden with +fruit, fields chock-full of heavy-bearded grain ... till, one Spring, +the middle fork of the river had dried up. + +The farmers called in specialists who sank wells and pilot holes, +measured the slopes. They heard much talk about water tables, about +springs undercutting rock formations. But when it was done the fact +remained: Dark Valley's water supply was choked off beyond man's ability +to restore it. In the end the farmers gave up, left their dusty houses +and shriveled orchards, and Dark Valley died. + +Boys hiked over there occasionally. Men scouted for fence posts or pipe. +Young couples passed quickly through on moonlight nights. And at least +two stubborn old-timers still squatted at the upper end. + +Now that Joe Merklos had bought it, of course, they would have to move. + +"Well, won't they?" Henderson asked. + +Jerry Bronson looked around at the other members of the Wide Bend +Businessmen's Club. "Doesn't take a lawyer to answer that, Hen." + +"Dam' shame," said Caruso, the barber, who always championed underdogs. + +"They've had no equity in that land for years. The bank just let them +stay on." + +"They can move on over the hill." + +Jerry nodded. "Maybe somebody ought to suggest that to them." + +"Don't look at me," Caruso said. "Those old coots ain't been near my +shop for years." + +When the chuckles died, MacAllister, the druggist, voiced the thought +that rested unspoken on all their minds. "I wonder if that fellow +realizes what a worthless piece of land he's bought." + +"He looked it over." This was Hammond, of the bank. + +"'Course, you didn't try to talk him out of it!" + +"Would you have?" Hammond retorted indignantly. + +Henderson jabbed the air with his cigar. "I think he was a coal miner, +back East. Saved up his money to get on the land." + +"_I_ think he's a gypsy," Caruso said. + +"You ought to know," Tipton, the grocer, laughed. Caruso got fined for +his reply, and with the tinkle of coins in the luncheon club kitty the +men dispersed. + + * * * * * + +Joe Merklos' relatives arrived that night. Henderson, who told Jerry +Bronson about it, had made an early morning delivery of feed nearby, and +driven on to take a look at Merklos' purchase. From the ridge, he viewed +Dark Valley's three miles of width and six or so of length. Figures were +moving about the gaunt and windowless farm buildings. At least one plow +was in operation, and the good blue friendliness of smoke arose here and +there. + +"Looked like a lot of people, Jerry. But you know--I didn't see any cars +or trucks around." + +Jerry's blue eyes crinkled. Human nature didn't like puzzles any more +than it liked strangers. He returned to the tedious civil case he was +working on. About three o'clock, he decided he was tired and bored +enough to call it a day. He got into his car and headed for Dark Valley. + +Aside from his curiosity, he thought he might talk to the two old +squatters at the far end. The Carvers were independent and truculent. +Now that Joe Merklos' relatives had arrived in full force, there was +danger of a clash. + +As the road topped the ridge, it left green fields and orchards abruptly +behind. But Dark Valley had a wild sort of beauty, cupped as it was +between two rows of hills which curved together as higher, jumbled +foothills to the west. + +Jerry's car trailed a plume of dust as it slid down to the dry riverbed. +He made a left turn and started up the valley road. At the first farm he +saw dark, plump women in billowing dresses, wearing peasant scarves over +their heads. They moved about the barnyard, raking dead leaves and +scratching busily at the baked earth of the old truck gardens. Chickens +and ducks strayed, and Jerry caught a glimpse of children. He waved to +the group and was answered by nods and flashing smiles. + +Then he had a shock. One of the women was working the handle of a pump +that had been bone-dry for fifteen years--and a slender stream of clear +water spilled into her wooden tub! + +Somewhat dazedly, Jerry drove on. He saw more of the Merklos people at +other farms. Men were working in the withered orchards. New fence posts +and rails were going up; bright axes flashed in the dry and scraggly +wood lots. + +Jerry's thoughts kept returning to the water in that first pump. Could +it be that they had learned the valley had a supply again? That would be +a mighty joke on Hammond and the First National Bank. + +The road, badly rutted by erosion and drifted over with sand and dry +leaves, began to rise. Jerry shifted into low gear. Then, suddenly, he +stopped. He'd had another shock. He had just realized this road was +_unused_. He recalled the twin ruts, patterned with rabbit and bird +tracks, clear back to the turn-off. Without question, his car had been +the first to mark the road since winter. + +Then how had these dozens of people come, with their chickens and ducks +and children and tools? He had seen no cars, no wagons, no carts. _How +had these people come?_ + +Jerry sat back in the seat and grinned. He fished out his tobacco pouch +and filled his pipe. There were times when he considered himself fairly +mature, fairly well balanced. Yet he was as ready as the next to build a +house of mystery out of the insubstantial timber of ignorance. + +Of course there was a reasonable explanation. They must have walked from +the railroad. It was a good many miles, but it was perfectly possible. + +Feeling better, Jerry followed the tortuous road to the western crest. +His long legs hadn't taken him far from the car when he heard a harsh, +"Hold up!" + +First one, then the other Carver brother stepped out from a scrub oak +thicket--short, leathery old men, with ragged whiskers and dirt seamed +into their faces and wrists. They eyed him malevolently over raised +shotguns. + +"Came to talk to you," Jerry said mildly. + +One of them--he thought it was Ed--spat. + +"Ah, now," Jerry went on in an aggrieved tone, "that's a fine way to +treat a son of Jack Bronson." + +The Carver brothers glanced at one another, then the shotguns lowered. +"Come along," they said gruffly. In the littered yard by their cabin, +they pointed to a bench and squatted down before it on their thin old +shanks. + +"New people in Dark Valley." + +They nodded. + +"They've bought it from the bank. They own it clear to the ridge line, +including your place, here." + +"We been here forty years," said Ed. + +"If I owned it you could stay forty more." + +"They send you?" the voice was sharp, suspicious. + +Jerry shook his head. "I just thought you'd like to know about it." + +For a couple of minutes the Carver brothers chewed tobacco in unison. +They stood up, reached for their guns. "We'll see," they said. + +Jerry nodded. They walked beside him, kicking thoughtfully at the +leaves. The brother named Mike rubbed his whiskers. "Get much of a look +at 'em when ye passed through?" + +"Some." + +"They furriners?" + +Jerry sighed inwardly. "Maybe. They look like hard workers." + +The Carver brothers cackled suddenly. "They better be! To farm that +land." + +Jerry passed back through the valley. A man knocking out stumps waved to +him. A woman in a barnyard swished out her big skirts, shooing chickens. +At that first farm, a trickle of water still ran from the pump.... + + * * * * * + +Wide Bend was a normal community. Along with its natural curiosity there +was a genuine feeling of neighborliness--heightened by the conviction +that these hardworking strangers had thrown their money away on a +hopeless venture. So, one way and another, a fair percentage of the +town's population found excuses in the next few days to get out to Dark +Valley. Bit by bit the reports filtered back to Jerry, and they all +added up about the same. + +Joe Merklos and his people were incredibly industrious. Already they had +cleaned up the yards, repaired sagging barns and roofless sheds. +Curtains fluttered at the windows. Cows had appeared, and sheep, even a +few horses. Somehow, perhaps from accumulated seepage, they were still +bringing water from the rusty pumps. And--though it was surely an +illusion--Dark Valley seemed to have taken on a tinge of green again. + +Wide Bend's womenfolk brought gifts of home-made preserves, jelly, +canned vegetables ... and came away puzzled. No, they hadn't been badly +received. All was politeness and smiles. But there was--well, a sort of +remoteness about these people. The kids went out of sight the minute you +turned into a place. And you just couldn't get close to the grown-ups. +Dark, they were, and heavy-looking. They smiled a lot, jabbering in an +unknown language. They had beautiful white teeth, but no jewelry or +ornaments, such as gypsies might wear. They always appeared pleased that +you brought them something. But on the way home you discovered you still +had your presents, after all. + +The best guess as to the number in the tribe (somehow, that seemed the +best way to describe them) was sixty, give or take a few. + +The general verdict was expressed by Henderson at the next club +luncheon. "They're odd, but they're hard workers. Darned good thing for +the community." + +Miller, the jeweler, agreed vigorously. + +"Self-interest," Jerry murmured, "is a wonderful thing." + +They turned on him. "They haven't bought a thing from us! And what if +they did?" + +"Kidding, boys. I've got something to sell, too." Then Jerry frowned. +"They haven't bought _anything_?" + +Around the table, heads shook. + +"Probably," Caruso growled, "they wear their hair long, too." + +In the laughter, the matter was forgotten. + +But Jerry remembered it that night, sitting on the porch of his house. +There must be hundreds of items--tools and nails and hinges and glass +and wire and sandpaper and oil and rope and seed and salt and +sugar--that the tribe needed. How could they--? + +There was a step on the path. "You there?" Caruso called. + +"Yep." + +The barber sat in the other chair, hoisted his feet to the railing. "You +know how kids are." + +"Um." + +"That boy of mine, he couldn't stand it about Dark Valley. He was out +there with a couple of pals, poking around." + +"Yes?" Jerry didn't realize his voice was sharp. + +"Oh, no trouble. But the middle fork of the river's started to run +again!" + + * * * * * + +For a long time after Caruso had gone, Jerry sat with his cold pipe in +his mouth. There were reasonable explanations for every one of the small +oddities that had cropped up with Joe Merklos and his people. But he +couldn't shake a growing feeling of uneasiness. + +Jerry went to bed muttering, for he was a man trained to keep emotion +and fact well separate. But the feeling was still with him when he +awoke, and he recognized it later on Henderson's face. + +"We got to get the boys together and talk this thing over," the feed and +fuel owner said. + +"What's up?" + +"This stuff that's missin'." + +Jerry gave a start. He had just spent at least half an hour looking for +this garage lock. + +"Every day of this week," Henderson went on heavily, "I've had people in +to replace some little thing that was lost. Hatchets and feeding troughs +and spare parts and panes of glass and things like that. A couple of old +chicken brooders that was stored. Ten salt blocks Anderson had in his +barn." + +Just then MacAllister stepped over from his drugstore to join them. +"Dammit," he said plaintively, dusting off his store jacket, "I been in +the basement the last hour looking for an old pipe wrench. I swear I +left it there!" + +Jerry met Henderson's glance. "All right," he said. "Let's get the gang +together for lunch today." + +Sheriff Watson joined them in the back room of the restaurant. When the +coffee came Jerry rose to explain the purpose of the meeting. "Our +problem," he began, "may amount to nothing at all. Or it could turn out +to be mighty nasty. Hen and I thought it was time to talk it over." + +Briefly he recapitulated Dark Valley's reawakening. He described Joe +Merklos and his people--their odd clothing, their independence, their +alien language. + +"Point one," he said, "most people don't like strangers." + +He described the tribe's arrival without cars or wagons, without even a +mark on the abandoned road. He spoke of the pumps that came to life, the +river that now ran again. The progress the tribe had made seemed almost +beyond human capacity. + +"Point two," Jerry said, "most people don't like mysteries." He turned. +"Okay, Hen." + +First Henderson explained that none of the tribe had bought supplies of +any kind in Wide Bend. He got corroboration from other businessmen +present. Then, as he summarized the missing articles, heads began to +nod. Faces got red and lists were clenched. Jerry got to his feet again. +"Point three, I don't need to spell out. Much more of this and carloads +of men with guns will be heading for the ridge. There'll be the kind of +trouble we don't want on Wide Bend's conscience." + +"Should we let 'em rob us blind?" shouted Tipton. + +"No wonder they do so good!" Caruso cried. + +"How about the water?" Hammond asked sarcastically. "You think they +stole that, too?" + +Someone shouted back, and a heated discussion raged. Jerry finally +banged on the table with a sugar bowl. "Let's hear from the sheriff." + +Watson hoisted his big frame, and sighed. "Jerry's right, boys. We got a +nasty situation building up. Right now, my old woman's so mad at the +Dark Valley people she could spit. And why? Only because she can't +figger 'em out." + +He brushed his mustache and looked at Tipton. "Them people are human +bein's, ain't they?" + +Tipton scowled, but nodded. + +"Anything they done that couldn't be explained by natural causes, no +matter how silly or complicated?" + +Tipton thought about it, and had to shake his head. + +"Believe me, boys, the only thing to get excited about is the stuff +that's missin'. If they're pinchin' it, we can catch 'em, and punish +'em. They may be foreigners but they sure as hell have to obey the law +of the land!" + +"Now," Hammond said, "we're talking sense." + +"Give me a list of what's missin'," Watson added, "an' I'll go to Dark +Valley this afternoon and take a look around the place." + +"Everybody satisfied?" Jerry asked. + +Everybody was. + + * * * * * + +Sheriff Watson frowned at the list as Jerry drove into the first +barnyard. They scattered chickens, ducks, and children--seen blurrily as +they scrambled to hide. They remained a few minutes, ostensibly +visiting, then went on to the next farm, and the next.... + +Beyond the last one, on the rise that led to the Carver cabin, Jerry +stopped the car. They looked at one another. Watson rubbed his face +irritably. "I'm beat, Jerry. There's somethin' here I can't get my hands +nor my head onto." + +"I know." + +The sheriff banged one big hand against the crumpled list. "That butter +churn of Mulford's. By God, I saw it! Same brand, same color. Even had +scratches around the base where that old cat of his sharpened her +claws." + +"I know," Jerry said again. "But it had a letter 'Z' cut into it. Worn +and weathered, so you'd swear it had been there for years and years." + +"That spring-toothed harrow of Zimmerman's." + +"Except the one we saw had twelve teeth instead of fifteen. And even the +man who made it couldn't find where it had been altered or tampered +with." + +It had been the same with a score of other things. Each one slightly +changed, just different enough to make identification impossible to +prove. + +Slowly, Jerry said, "Wood gets weathered, metal oxidizes, honest wear is +unmistakable. And these all take time, which can't be faked." + +His implication hung in the air. If the things had been stolen, then +altered to avoid identification, whoever did it had more than human +ability. + +"Magic," Watson muttered. + +"There's ... no ... such ... thing!" + +"No, there absolutely ain't." + +They sat looking with troubled eyes out over Dark Valley, till Jerry +said abruptly, "I'm going on up to see the Carvers." + +Watson reached for the door handle. "They don't have no use for me. I'll +wait here. I got plenty to think about." + +Jerry nodded. The sheriff would be remembering the seeds already +sprouting in the kitchen gardens. The leaves that had jumped out on the +old fruit trees. The lambs and calves capering in pastures washed with +the green of new grass. + +The road was smooth, its ditches cleared and deepened. Bright clothing +napped on shiny new clotheslines (those were on the list, but how can +you identify a roll of wire?). Cordwood was stacked in every yard. New +shingles spotted the roofs, the windows held glass again, fresh paint +glistened on porches. In the fields, corn and oats and hay were shooting +upward.... + +Jerry found the Carvers waiting for him, their wrinkled old faces tense. +They didn't answer his greeting, just jerked their heads. They led him +past the cabin, through open brush, and halted at a bare place. Slowly, +Jerry sank to his knees. + +Except for its size, it could have been a splayed-out cougar print. But +it was two feet across, and pressed more than an inch into the hard, dry +soil. + +Finally Ed Carver nudged Jerry. The gnarled finger pointed to a twig of +wild lilac eight feet off the ground. Caught on the twig were several +coarse black hairs, six inches long. Jerry looked from them back to the +Carvers, then down at the ground again. He didn't speak. What was there +to say? + +As they started back toward the cabin, Ed Carver said harshly, "We found +that two nights ago." + +Jerry brooded for some distance, then he said, "Ned Ames has the best +hunting dogs in the country." + +They looked at him disgustedly. + +"Dammit, you have to do something! Come back to town with me. We'll get +some of the boys together, and hunt it down." + +They had passed the cabin and reached the car. The Carver brothers +looked out over Dark Valley and shook their heads. "We've lived alone," +Ed said. "We'll fight alone." + +When Jerry told the sheriff about the giant spoor, Watson gave a +derisive snort. "Those old coots got bats in their belfries!" + +"But I saw the print." + +Watson dismissed such evidence with a wave of his hand. "They made it +up, probably. Forget it till you see the animal itself. You'll have time +to believe it then. We got enough to worry about already." + +Jerry couldn't forget it. But there was a kind of reassurance in such +hearty skepticism. With each passing minute, that huge print seemed more +unreal. + + * * * * * + +Halfway through the valley they stopped to look at the river. The bed +was half full--muddy, debris-laden, with a sheen of dust on the surface. +But it was water--wet, tangible, undeniable. + +Watson took off his hat and rubbed his head and swore. + +"Good afternoon." + +They turned. Joe Merklos was smiling at them. + +"Hello," Jerry said. Watson just glowered. + +Merklos moved beside them and looked down. His brilliant teeth flashed. +"Good, is it not?" The guttural words came out flat, one at a time, as +though shaped carefully. + +"Better than money, in this part of the world." Jerry's eyes narrowed. +"Did you know about the water when you bought the valley?" + +Merklos smiled again. He was bare-headed, dressed in dark trousers and a +loose, short-sleeved blouse. His neck and muscular forearms gleamed +bronze in the sunlight. "You like what we do here?" he asked in his +deep, hesitant manner. + +"You've done wonders," Watson said shortly. + +Merklos' smoky eyes held Jerry's. "My people are used to work." + +Slowly, significantly, Watson said, "The thing we don't understand is +how you managed to bring so much equipment. The exact things you +needed--right down to the last nail." + +Merklos' inscrutable gaze swung around. The smile lingered on his face. +"We are a careful people. We plan a long way ahead." + +Watson opened his mouth for another question--and shut it. Merklos' +attention had left them. The man was listening, his head slightly +cocked. After a moment he turned. "I am happy to see you making a visit. +I hope you come again." He nodded and walked swiftly away. + +Wordlessly, Jerry and the sheriff got back in the car. "Could you hear +what he was listening to?" Jerry muttered. + +"I didn't hear a thing." + +"Notice anything else about Dark Valley?" + + * * * * * + +Watson shook his head. + +"No flowers. Not one dog." Jerry's hand tightened on the steering-wheel. +"And who has ever gotten a single, clear look at one of the kids?" + +Jerry spent a restless night. On the way to his office the next morning +he met Watson, talking to a farmer on the courthouse steps. + +"Listen to Carson, here," the sheriff said grimly. + +Carson's straw hat bobbed as he talked. "I'm waitin' to see the farm +adviser. Somethin's gone wrong out at my place on the South Fork. I'm on +good bottom land--highest yield in the county. But in the last two, +three weeks my corn, my wheat, even my berries has _stopped growin'_!" + +Jerry's eyes jumped to Watson. + +"Yep," Carson went on, "every single ear o' corn is still a nubbin." He +threw out his arms. "And, by God, even my wife's radishes has stood +still. Ain't anything on earth that'll slow up a radish." + +"How about other stuff? How about eggs?" + +"Same thing. Cut right down. Hens lay one in ten now, mebbe. An' my +alfalfa has turned a funny gray-green. Even the fruit--" + +"What about the river?" Watson broke in. "You still got water in the +South Fork?" + +"Way down for this time o' year. But we got enough." + +Several people had stopped to listen. One of them, a big, tow-headed +Swede, burst out excitedly. "Mister, you got the same trouble as my +cousin. His crops, they're growin' _backwards_!" + +There was more of the same impossible talk. Jerry made an excuse to get +away to his office. He sat at his desk and stared out the window. + +There wasn't any problem, he tried to tell himself. Anything he could +not measure by experience and logic was out. And that had to include +giant paw-prints and mysteriously missing objects as well as radishes +that wouldn't grow. + +Dark Valley was taking on life and freshness. Fact. The South Fork, and +portions of the North Fork, seemed to be losing fertility. Fact. But to +conclude from this that Dark Valley was gaining at the expense of the +others--that was the road no reasonable man could allow himself to take. + +From his window, he saw the huge old trees that shaded Wide Bend. They +looked suddenly wrong. Weren't they less green, less thick than before? +The buildings and streets looked dingier, too. And when did all those +broken fences, cracked windows, missing shingles show up...? + +Jerry lunged from his chair and strode up and down the room. Then the +telephone bell tore through his nerves. He grabbed the instrument. + +"Watson. I just wanted to tell you, two boys have been reported +missin'." + +"No!" + +"The Simmons kids. But they've run away before. They'll be back." + +Jerry's hand went slowly down. The sheriff's voice echoed hollowly from +the lowered receiver. "Well, won't they?" + + * * * * * + +It was after midnight when the doorbell rang. It didn't wake Jerry--he +was sitting in bed, staring into the darkness. There was a pile of books +beside him; he knocked them over getting up to answer the door. + +Mike Carver stumbled in. He dropped into a chair, panting. Jerry went +for a bottle and glass. Carver gulped the drink, then held the tumbler +out for another. + +"I run all the way down the ridge," he gasped, "till I catched a ride. I +figgered you ought to know what happened. It got my brother Ed." + +Jerry's lean face hardened. + +"Yeah. It was prowlin' around. We went after it, an' shot it." + +"But you said ..." + +"I said it killed Ed." The old lips tightened. "We gave it one slug +through the heart and one through the head. They didn't even slow it +down." + +"You mean," Jerry asked carefully, "that they didn't have any effect at +all?" + +Mike nodded. He tipped the glass, wiped his ragged sleeve across his +face, and rose. + +"Where are you going?" + +"Back to the cabin." + +"Mike, you can't go there!" + +"That's where my brother's body is." + +"Look," Jerry said evenly, "you can't help him now. Stay here with me, +and we'll go up in the morning." + +Carver shook his head. "My brother's there at the cabin. I got to set up +with him." There was no arguing against that tone of simple and utter +finality. + +"All right. Wait till I get some clothes on, and I'll drive you back." + +A few minutes later they passed through Wide Bend's deserted streets and +started out the road to the valley. Carver rolled down his window and +spat tobacco juice. "Feller was up to see us," he said gloomily. "Told +us people was losin' things all over the county--includin' two kids. +Said crops has shrunk. Said water in the forks is way down." + +"He's right." + +"Said people were gettin' the idea Dark Valley was livin' off the rest +of the land. Feedin' on it, like a parasite. How crazy you think that +is?" + + * * * * * + +Slowly, Jerry said, "I'm not sure it's crazy at all." + +Carver brooded. "I shot that thing tonight. Should 'a been dead if a +critter ever was. Then I seen it go after Ed." + +"You know what all this means, don't you? Witchcraft. Something people +haven't believed in for hundreds of years." + +"Mebbe they better get started again." + +They were nearing the divide that overlooked Dark Valley. "Mike, I've +been reading up on it, for hours. Everything I could find. And it fits. +It's been the hardest struggle I ever had--admitting such a thing +existed. But it was either acknowledge that or lose my mind." + +The night seemed colder as they started downward. Unaccountably, the +headlights dimmed. + +"Somethin' watchin' us," Carver said suddenly, as the car bored on +through the thick and swirling darkness. + +Jerry nodded. His hands gripped the wheel until the knuckles were white. +Sweat began to glisten on his forehead. + +The headlights picked out a dark spot, that looked like a yawning hole. +Jerry stamped on the brake, skidded slightly. But there was only a +shallow rut, deformed by shadows. He pressed the accelerator ... and the +motor died. Hurriedly, he jabbed the starter button, pumped the gas +pedal. Again he pushed it, and again, as the lights faded from the drain +on the battery. + +"What's the matter?" Carver's old voice was thin. + +"Flooded, maybe. Better let her sit a minute." + +The darkness pressed close around them, shifted and danced. Chill air +moved over their faces. + +"Mike." + +"Yeah." + +"Why didn't that animal come after, you, too?" + +Carver breathed heavily for a moment. Then he took something from his +shirt pocket and held it out. Jerry's fingers moved over it. A crucifix. + +"My mother give it to me a long time ago." + +"That's probably the only thing that could have saved you. From what I +read, they can't stand a cross. And silver's got something to do with +it." Jerry reached into his own pocket. "Feel this." + +Carver's rough hand fumbled over the object. + +"Made it this evening. Took a cold chisel and hammer to an old silver +tray. Not fancy, but it was all I had." + +"You done that, before I came and told you about Ed?" + +Jerry nodded grimly. "I'm convinced we're up against something terrible. +And believe me, Mike, I'm scared." + + * * * * * + +The shadows drew closer, thicker still. They seemed charged with menace. + +With a catch in his voice, Jerry said, "Maybe now's the time to try it." + +Carver's head jerked around. + +"I mean smash Merklos and his tribe for good." + +"How?" + +"With fire, and the silver crosses." + +After a long pause, Carver said, "What about Ed?" + +"We'll get to your cabin. We're not far from the first farm. We can go +right up the valley. If it works." + +"And if it don't?" + +"We might end up like Ed." + +Carver turned and spat out the window. "I don't want to, but I will." + +They got out of the car, into the humming darkness. They took gunny +sacks and rags from the trunk compartment and soaked them in oil from +the crankcase. They wired a bundle on the extension handle of the jack, +and another on the radio aerial rod which Jerry unscrewed. + +They tried to start the car once more, without success. So they turned +off the lights and left it. With one torch burning, they started up the +road for the first gate. + +Dark Valley's shadowy legions closed in. There was a rustling and a +whispering all around them. There were shiny glints where none ought to +be. There was an overwhelming feeling that something frightful +waited--just beyond the edge of darkness. + +"The gate," Carver said hoarsely. + +Jerry unclenched his jaws and lit the second torch. The flare-up +reflected from the blank windows ahead. + +"What about the wimmen? What about the kids?" + +Jerry spoke jerkily, his eyes on the house. "There aren't any kids. What +we saw was something else. The women are the same as the men, the same +as the thing that killed Ed. Don't worry about them. Hold the cross in +front of you, and for God's sake hang onto it!" + +The darkness swelled like a living thing. It swayed and clutched at the +torches. Somewhere a high whining began, like a keening wind. + +There were sudden sounds from the house--bangings and scramblings. +Carver faltered. + +"On!" Jerry said savagely, and began to run. He touched his home-made +crucifix to the wood of the porch, and with the other hand brought the +torch down. Blue sparks jumped out at him. The dry wood hissed and +blazed up furiously. + +A frightful scream rang out. There was the tinkle of breaking glass. +Formless figures thudded to the ground and scuttled away on all fours, +headed up the valley. + +Within minutes the farmhouse was a mass of roaring flame. Jerry backed +away from it. He saw Carver outlined against the glowing barn, which he +had fired. They came together and hurried back to the road. There they +stopped to watch the pillar of flame and smoke, boiling upward. + +"It worked," Carver said. + +Jerry nodded. "We can't kill them. But we can drive them out." + +"Wimmen and kids," Carver said bitterly. "Did you see them things that +came out?" + +"Yes." Jerry was drenched in sweat and the torch trembled in his hand. +"Let's get on to the next one, Mike." + +They went on to the neighboring farm, and to the one after that, while +the shadows pulsed in an unholy turmoil. The night swarmed with +malignant invisible forces, that tried to blow the flame from their +torches, that flayed them with the naked sword of fear. There were +hideous shapes, half-seen. There were waves of terror like a physical +shock. There were puffs of ordure, so rank they gagged. + +But they plodded through it, faces set, sweating and agonized. Till, +halfway up the valley _it_ came.... + +Carver knew it first. His leathery face paled; his hands fumbled +instinctively for the gun he was not carrying. + +Then Jerry said hoarsely, "Mike, did you hear that?" + +Carver nodded dumbly. + +Clearly, now, came the sound of those huge paws, padding first on one +side of them, then the other. Jerry clutched his cross till the rough +edges bit deep into his hand. + +It seemed that his very life was bound up with the torch that now smoked +and struggled to burn. If its feeble flame went out, that meant +extinction, black and final. + +Then he became aware that Carver was no longer beside him. He whirled. +Ten yards behind, the other was bending down, scrabbling frantically in +the dust. + +"I dropped it!" he shouted. "I can't find it!" + +Jerry tried to reach him, but the other thing was quicker. A whirlpool +of blackness engulfed Carver, blotted him out. Then Jerry was confronted +by an unbelievable sight--a great, savage head, towering over him, its +eyes glowing redly and foam creaming over gigantic, open jaws. + + * * * * * + +Desperately, he shoved his cross straight at it. The thing spat and +roared deafeningly. The thud of its paws shook the ground. It lashed out +with monstrous claws that sliced his skin. Half-stunned, Jerry kept +lunging toward it, till finally his cross touched its coarse hide. There +was a crackle of blue flame, a shriek that split the night, and the +thing disintegrated in roiling clouds of bitter smoke. + +Jerry swayed. The hand that held the cross was numb and tingling. Like +an automaton, he turned, went back, and knelt beside the crumpled shape +that had been Mike Carver. Then he rose, still carrying the feebly +flickering torch, and plodded on.... + +They met him as he was coming back--Watson, Henderson, Caruso, Miller, +Hammond and the rest. They had flashlights and guns and tear gas, and +their faces were grim and desperate. + +"We found your car," they said. "We could see the flames from Wide Bend. +What in hell has been going on?" + +Jerry stared at them. He dropped the dead torch. One hand tried to put +the cross back into his pocket. His face was black, his hair singed, his +side wet with blood. + +"It's all over," he croaked. "They're gone. Dark Valley is free again." + +_Big Joe Merklos was the first of them. He appeared at the Rocky +Mountain Trust Company one day, cash in hand. The charm of him, his +flashing smile, the easy strength in his big body, were persuasive +recommendations. But the Company's appraisal scarcely got that far. +Wasn't he the first buyer they had ever had for that suburban +real-estate fiasco, Hidden Acres...?_ + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Invaders, by Benjamin Ferris + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INVADERS *** + +***** This file should be named 23535.txt or 23535.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/5/3/23535/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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