Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S6 Ep342: Episode 342: Bizarre horror Stories

Episode Date: June 2, 2026

Today’s opening tale of the macabre is the classic ‘An Extra Man’, an old-school work by the wonderful Jackson Gee, freely available in the public domain and read here under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA 3.0 license.https://www.gutenberg.org/files/29882/29882-h/29882-h.htm#An_Extra_ManTonight’s second terrifying tale of the strange and macabre is ‘The House My Father Built Was on A Cursed Foundation…’ by the wonderfully talented Yung Seti, kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me narrate it here for you all:reddit.com/user/YungSeti/reddit.com/r/DrCreepensVault/comments/uwfw7z/the_house_my_father_built_was_on_a_cursed/Today’s penultimate tale of terror is the classic ‘The Sea Terror’, an old-school work by the wonderful Captain S. P. Meek, freely available in the public domain and read here under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA 3.0 license.https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/30691/pg30691-images.html#THE_SEA_TERROR_BY_CAPTAIN_S_P_MEEKTonight’s closing tale of woodland terror is ‘The Well in the Forest’, a fabulous original work by Crashing Cymbal, kindly shared with me via the Creepypasta Fandom and narrated here for you all under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA license. https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/The_Well_in_the_Foresthttps://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/User:CrashingCymbal/Stories

Welcome to Dr. Creepin's Dungeon. Mizarre things terrify us because they break the rules of reality we depend on to feel safe. The human mind is constantly trying to predict and understand the world. So when we encounter something unnatural, irrational or deeply out of place, it creates a powerful sense of uncertainty. A figure standing motionless in the dark, a voice coming from an empty room, or a familiar face behaving in an inhuman way, forces our brains into panic because, he cannot easily explain it. And often the fear comes not from what we see,

but from the possibility that the world may be stranger and less controllable than we ever believed, as we shall see in tonight's collection of stories. As ever, before we begin, a word of caution, tonight's tales may contain strong language, as not as descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. That sounds like your kind of thing. And let's begin. Sealed and vigilantly guarded,

was Drell's invention, 1932, for it was a scientific achievement beyond which man dared not go, an extra man by Jackson Gee. Raised for the August midday sun pouring through the museum's glass roof beat upon the eight soldiers surrounding the central exhibit, which for 30 years had been under constant guard. Even the present sweltering heat failed to lessen the men's careful observation of the visitors who, from time to time, strode listless. about the room. The object of all this solicitude scarcely seemed to require it. A great upended rectangle of polished steel, some six feet square by ten or a dozen feet in height, standing in the centre of the machinery hall. It suggested nothing sinister or priceless. Two peculiarities,

however, marked it as unusual, the concealment of its mechanism and the brevity of its title. For while the remainder of the exhibits located around it varied in the simplicity or complex, of their design, they were alike in the openness of their construction and detailed explanation of plan and purpose. The great steel box, however, bore merely two words and a date. DRAILES invention, 1932. It was nevertheless toward this exhibit that a pleasant-appearing white-haired old gentleman and a small boy were slowly walking when a change of guard occurred. The new man took their posts without words, while the relieved detail. turned down a long corridor that, for a moment, echoed with the clatter of hobnail boots on stone.

Then all was surprisingly still. Even the boy who was impressed into reluctant silence as he viewed the uniformed men, though not for long. "'What's that? What's that? What's that?' he demanded presently with shrilled imperiousness. "'Grandfather, what's that?' An excited arm indicated the exhibit with its soldier guard. "'Oh, if you keep still lying up. "'It replied the old man patiently.

"'I'll tell you.' "'And with due regard for rheumatic limbs, "'he slowly settled himself on a bench "'and folded his hands over the top of an ebony cane "'in preparation for answering the youngsters' question. "'His inquisitor, however, was at the moment "'being hauled from beneath a brass railing "'by the sergeant of the watch.

"'You'll have to keep an eye on him, sir,' "'said the man reproachfully. "'He was going to try his knife on the woodwork "'when I caught him. "'Well, thank you, Sergeant. "'I'll do my best, but, oh, this younger generation, you know.' "'Sit still, if possible,' he directed the squirming boy. "'If not, we'll start home now.'

The non-com took a new post with an easy-reaching distance of the disturber, and attempted to glare impressively. "'Go on, grandfather, tell me. "'What's derail? "'What's in the box? "'Can they open it? "'What are those soldiers for?' "'Oh, God, do they have to stay here? Why?'

"'Drail,' said the old man, "'breaking through the barrage of questions. "'It was a close friend of mine a good many years ago.' "'How many grandfather? Fifty? As much as 50? Did Father know him? "'Is father fifty?' "'Fordy, no?' "'Yes, uh, no,' said the harassed relative, "'and then with amazing ignorance inquired.

"'Do you really care to hear, or?' Do you just ask questions to exercise your tongue? I want to hear the story, Grandpa. Tell me the story. This is a nice story. Has it got bears in it? Polar bears. I saw a polar bear yesterday.

He was white. Are all polar bears white? Tell me the story, Grandpa. The old man turned appealing eyes toward the sergeant. Tacitly, a sympathetic understanding was established. The warrior was also a father, and off of the field of battle, he had known. defeat.

Oh, uh, leave me handle him, sir, he suggested. I have the like of him at home. I'd be very much indebted to you if you would. Thus encouraged the soldier produced from an inner pocket, and offered one of those chartered sweets known as an all-day soccer. Well, see if you can joke yourself on that, he challenged, and the clamour ceased immediately. It always works, sir, explained the manner of

resource. The Mrs. says, as how it'll ruin their indigestions, but I'm all for peace, even if I am in the army. Now that his vocal organs were temporarily plugged, the child waved a demanding arm in the direction of the main exhibit, indicate a desire for the resumption of the narrative, where the ancient was not anxious to disturb so soon the benign and acceptable silence. In fact, it was not until he observed the sergeant's look of inquiry that he began once more. That box, he said slowly, it's both a monument and a milestone on the road to mankind's progress in mechanical invention.

It marks a point beyond which Drell's contemporaries believed it was unsafe to go. For they furthered inventions such as his would add to the complexities of life, and if a hold were not made, well, our own machines would ultimately destroy us. I did not, still do not believe it, and I know Drell's spirit broke when the authorities sealed his own. last work in that box and released him upon parole to abandon his experiments. As the speaker sighed in regretful reminiscence, the sergeant glanced at his men. Apparently all was well, the only visible menace lulled with an easy arm's reach,

swinging his short legs and sucking noisily on his candy. Nevertheless, the non-com shifted to a slightly better tactical position as he awaited the continuance of this tale. "'Ah, Christopher Drale,' said the elderly gentleman. "'It was the greatest man I've ever known, as well as the finest. "'Forty years or more ago, we were close friends. "'Our homes on Long Island are joined, and I handled most of his legal affairs. "'He was about 45 or 46, then, but already famous.

"'His rediscovery of the ancient process of tempering copper "'made him one of the wealthiest men in the land "'and enabled him to devote his time to say, scientific research. Electricity and chemistry were his specialties, at the period of which I speak he was deeply encroached in problems of radio transmission. But he had many interests and not infrequently visited our local country club for an afternoon of golf.

Sometimes I played around the course with him, and afterward, over a drink, we'd talk. His favorite topic was the contribution of science to human welfare, and even though I could not always follow him when he grew enthusiastic about some new theory. Well, I was always puzzled. It was at such a time when we've been discussing the new and first successful attempt to send moving pitches by radio, but I mentioned the prophecy of Jackson Gee. Guy was the writer of fantastic, pseudoscientific tales, who said, We shall soon be able to resolve human beings into their constituent elements,

transmit them by radio to any desired point, and reassemble them at the other end. and we shall do this by means of vibrations. We are just beginning to learn that vibrations are the key to the fundamental process of all life. Well, I laughed as I quoted this to Drale, for it seemed to me the ravings of a lunatic. But Drale did not smile. Jackson Gee, he said, is nearer to the truth than he imagines. We already know the elements that make the human body, and we could put them together in their proper proportions and arrangements.

We've not been able to introduce the vitalizing spark, the key vibrations to start it going. We can reproduce the human machine, but we cannot make it move. We can destroy life in the laboratory, and we can prolong it, but so far we've not been able to create it. And I tell you, in all seriousness, that that time will come. That time will come. I was surprised at his earnestness, and would have questioned him further. But a boy appeared just then with a message that Drale was wanted at the telephone. Some of the importance, sir, he said.

Drill went off to answer the summons, and later he sent word that he'd been called away and would not be able to return. It was the last I heard from Drale for months. He shot himself in his laboratory and saw no one but his assistance. Ward of Boston and Buchanan of Washington. He even slept in the workshop and had his food sent him. ordinarily I would not have been excluded, for I had his confidence to an unusual degree, and had often watched him work. I admired the deaf movements of his hands. He had a certain touch and a style of a master, but during that period he admitted only his AIDS.

Consequently, I felt little hope of reaching him one morning when it was necessary to have his signature to some legal documents. Yet the urgency of the case led me to go to his home on the chance that I might be able to get him long enough for the business. is that concerned us. Luck was with me, but he sent out word that he'd see me in a few minutes. I remember seating myself in the office that opened off his laboratory and wondering what was beyond the door that separated us.

I had witnessed some incredible performances in the adjoining room. At last, Drale came in. He looked worried and careworn. There were new lines on his face and a little half-circles of fatigue beneath his eyes. And it was evident that it was long since he'd slown. He apologized for having kept me waiting, and then, without examining the papers I offered, he signed his name nervously in the proper spaces.

When I gathered the sheathed together, he turned abruptly toward the laboratory, but at the door he paused and smiled. Oh, give my respects to Jackson G, he said. Hey, um, who was Jackson Gee? Does father know him? Has he got any polar bears? How are you going to tell me about that? The tidal wave of questions almost overwhelmed the historian and his auditor, but the military fortunately was equal to the emergency. With a tactical turn of his hand, he thrust the remnant of the lollipop between the chattering jaws and spoke with sharp rapidity.

"'Listen,' he commanded, "'that there what you got is a magic candy. If you go exposing it to the air after it's once in your mouth, it's likely to disappear just like that. And the speed of the translation was illustrated by a smart snapping of the fingers. Doubt shone in the juvenile terror's eyes, and the earlier generations waited fearfully while skepticism and greed waged their recurrent conflict. For a time it seemed as if the veteran had blundered,

but finally greed triumph and a temporary peace ensued. Whoa, where was I? Inquired the interrupted narrator when the issue. of battle was settled. You was talking about Jackson Gee, answered the guardsman in a cautiously low tone. Ah, so I was, so I was. The old gentleman agreed somewhat vaguely, nodding his head. He gazed at the sergeant with mingled awe and admiration.

I suppose he's quite useless to mention it, he said rather wistfully. But if you ever get out of the army and should want a job, you could name your own salary, you The question ended on an appealing note. Evidently the soldier understood the digression, for he replied in a tone that would brook no dispute. No, sir, I couldn't consider it. I was afraid so, said the other, regretfully, and added with apparent irrelevance.

I have to live with him, you see. Tough luck, commiserated the listener, reluctantly summoning his thoughts from the pleasant contemplation of what had seemed to offer a new era of peace, the bard returned to his story. A few hours later, he continued. I had a telephone call from Drell's wife, and I realized from the fright in her voice that something dreadful had happened. She asked me to come to the house at once. Chris had been hurt. But she disconnected before I could ask for details. I started immediately, and I wondered as I drove what disaster

had overtaken him. Anything, it seemed to me, might have befallen in that room with mirrored. miracles, but I was not prepared to find that Drail had been shot and wounded. The police were before me and already questioning the assailant, Mrs. Farrell, a fiery-tempered young Irish woman. When I entered the room, she was repeating half hysterically her explanation that Drail had killed her husband in the laboratory that morning. Right before my eyes, I seen it, she shouted. Harry was standing on a sort of platform, looking at a big machine-like, so help me he

didn't have a stitch of clothes on. I started to say something, but all at once there came a terrible sort of screech and a flash like lightning. Well, it was right in front of him. Then Harry turns into a sort of thick smoke. I can see right through him like he was a ghost. Then the smoke gets sucked into a big hole in the machine, and I know Harry's dead. Here's this man what done it.

Just standing there grinning, horrid. So something comes over me all at once, and I points Harry's gun at once. him and pulls the trigger. Even before the woman had finished, I recalled what I'd seen one afternoon in Drell's laboratory many months before. I've been there for some time watching him when he placed a small tumbler on a work table.

Asked me if I'd ever seen glass shattered by the vibrations of a violin. I told him that I had, but he went through the demonstration as if to satisfy himself. Of course, when he drew a bow across the instrument strings and produced the proper pitch, The goblet cracked into pieces exactly as it might have been expected,

and I wondered why Drayle concerned himself with such childish experiment, before I noticed that he appeared to have forgotten me completely. I endeavored then not to disturb him. I remember trying to draw myself out of his way and feeling that something momentous was about to take place. Yet actually, I believe it would have required a considerable commotion to have distracted his attention, and for his ability to concentrate was one of the characteristics of his genius.

I saw him place another glass on the table, and I noticed then that it stood directly in front of a complicated mechanism. Well, at first this gave out a low humming sound, but it soon rose to an unearthly whining shriek. I shrank from it involuntarily, and second later I was amazed at the side of the glass, seemingly reduced to a thin vapor, being drawn into a funnel-like opening near the top of the device.

I was too stalled to speak, and could only watch as Drale started the contrivance again. Once more its noise cut through me with physical pain. I cried out, but my voice was overwhelmed by the terrific den of the mysterious machine. Then Drale strode down the long room to another intricate mass of wire coals and plates and lamps. I saw a dim glow appear in two of the bulbs, heard a noise like the crackling of paper. The rail made some adjustments, and presently I observed a peculiar shimmering of the air

above a horizontal metal grid. It reminded me of heat waves rising from a summer street until I saw the vibrations were taking a deafener pattern, and that the pattern was that of the glass I'd seen dissolved into air. At first the image made me think of a picture formed by a series of horizontal lines close together, but broken at various points. in such a fashion as to create the appearance of a line by the very continuity of the fractures.

But as I watched, the plasma became substance. The air ceased to quiver, and I was appalled to see Drake pick up the tumbler and carry it to a scale on which he weighed it with infinite exactness. If he'd approached me with it at that moment, I would have fled in terror. Next, Drayle filled the goblet with some liquid, which immediately afterward he measured in a beat. the result seemed to please him for he smiled happily at the same instant he became aware of my presence he looked surprised and then a trifle disconcerted i could see that he was embarrassed by the knowledge that i had witnessed so much and after a second or two he asked my silence i agreed at once not only because he requested it but because i couldn't believe the evidence myself he let me out then

and locked the door. Well, it was this recollection that made me credit the woman's story. But I was sick with dread, for in spite of my faith in Drell's genius, I feared he'd gone mad. Oh, Mrs. Drail had listened to Mrs. Farrell's account calmly enough, but I could see the fear in her eyes when she signaled a wish to speak to me alone. I followed her into an adjoining room, leaving Mrs. Farrell with the two policemen and the doctor who was trying to quiet her. As soon as the door closed, Mrs. Drail sees my hands. "'Tim,' she whispered, "'I'm horribly afraid that what the woman says is true.

Chris has told me some wonderful things she was planning to do, but I never expected he'd experiment on human beings. Can they send him to prison?' "'Of course I said what I could to comfort her and tried to make my voice sound convincing. At the time the legal aspect of the matter did not worry me so much as the fear that the attack on Drale might prove fatal. For even if it should develop that he was not dangerously hurt,

I imagine that the interruption of the experiment at a critical moment might easily have ruined whatever slim chance there had been of success. For us, the nerve-wracking part was that we could do nothing until the surgeon who was attending Drill could tell us how badly he was injured. Well, at last word came that the bullet had only grazed Drale's head and stunned him, but he might remain unconscious for some time. Mrs. Drell went in and sat at her husband's side, while I returned to the laboratory

and found the police greatly bewildered as to whether or not they should arrest Drell. They discovered in a closet and outfit of men's clothing that Mrs. Farrell identified as her husband's, and, although they saw no other trace of the missing man, they had a desire to lock up somebody as an evidence of their activity. It took considerable persuasion to prevail upon them,

to withhold their hands. I mean, there was no such difficulty about restraining them in the laboratory. They were afraid to touch any apparatus, and they gave the invention a ludicrously wide berth. Well, I never knew exactly how long it was. I paced about the lower floor of Drell's home before the doctor summoned me

and announced that the patient wanted me, but that I must be careful not to excite him. I've often wondered how many physicians would have abandoned their profession if they were deprived of that phrase. You must not excite the patient. Well, Drell was already excited when I entered. In fact, he was furious at the doctor's efforts to restrain him.

But I realized that my fear for his reason was groundless. His remarks were lucid and forceful as he raged at the interference with his work. As soon as he saw me, he appealed for assistance. I'll make them leave me alone, Tim, he begged, as his wife and the doctor, partly by force, and partly by persuasion, endeavored to hold him in bed. I must get back to the laboratory. That woman believes that I have killed her husband,

and my assistant will think that we fail. I was about to argue with him when suddenly he managed to thrust the doctor aside and start toward the door. His seriousness impressed me, so that I gave him a supporting arm, and together we headed down the hall, with Mrs. Drell and the doctor following anxiously in the rear.

The laboratory was deserted and locked, when he arrived. The police evidently felt it was too uncanny in atmosphere for a prolonged weight. Drale opened the door, went directly to his machine, and examined it minutely. Thank the Lord that woman hit only me, he said, and sank into the chair. Then he asked for some brandy. Mrs. Drale rushed off and reappeared in a minute with a decanter and glass. Drale helped himself to a swallow That brought color to his cheeks And new strength to his limbs

And immediately after he turned again to the machine I dragged up a chair Assisted him into it and seated myself close by I knew little enough about mechanics But I was fascinated by the numerous gauges That faced me on the gleaming instrument board There were dials with needle-like hands That registered various numbers

spots of color appeared in narrow slots close to a solar spectrum. A stream of graph paper tape flowed slowly beneath a tracing pinpoint and carried away a jiggly thin line of purple ink. In a moment, trail was oblivious of everything but his records. I watched him copy the indicated figures, surround them with formulas, and solve mysterious problems with a slide rule. His calculations covered a large sheet before it finished. Then at last he underscored three intricate colors.

combinations of letters and figures and carry the answers to his private radio apparatus. This operated on a wavelength far outside the range of all others and ensured him against interference. With it, he was able to speak at any time with his assistance in Washington or Boston, or with both at once. He threw the switch that sent his call into the air. An answer came instantly, and Treau began to talk to his distant lieutenants. "'We've been interrupted, gentlemen,' he said. "'But I think we may continue now. "'We'll reassemble in the Boston laboratory.

"'Have you arranged the elements? "'The coefficients are?' "'Then he gave a succession of decimals. "'A voice replied that all was ready. "'Andrelle said, excellent, "'and went back to his invention "'and twisted a black knob on the board reform. "'With this trifling movement,

"'all hell seemed to crash about. us. The ghastly cacophony that I'd experienced in the same room some months previously was there's nothing now. Oh, these stupendous waves of sound pounded us until it seemed as if we must disintegrate beneath them. Whales and screams engulfed us, Mrs. Drell dropped to her knees beside her husband. The doctor seized my arm, and I saw the knuckles of his hand turn white with the pressure of his grip. Yet I felt nothing but the awful vibrations that drummed like riveting machines upon and through my nerves and body. It was not an attack upon the ears alone, though.

It crashed upon the heart, beat upon the chest so that breathing seemed impossible. My brain throbbed under the terrific pulsations, and for a while I imagined the human system could not enjoy the ordeal, and all of us must be annihilated. Well, except for his slow turning of the dials, Drell was motionless before the machine. Below the bandage about his foyer, I could see his feet. features drawn with anxiety. He had waged a human life to test his theory, and I think the enormity of it had not struck him until that moment. What I knew and hoped enabled me to imagine what was taken place in the Boston Laboratory. I seemed to see man's elementary dust and vapors

wold from great containers upward into a stratum of shimmering air and gradually assume the outlines of a human form that became first opaque, then solid, and then ascended. at the same time I was conscious that the appalling pandemonian had ceased and that the voice of Drell's Boston assistant was on the radio. Congratulations, Chief. It's reassemblish, is perfect. It's not a floor anywhere. Ah, splendid, Drell answered.

Bringing here by plane right away. His wife's worried about him. And then Drell turned to me. Ah, you see, he said. Jackson Gee was right. We've resolved man into his constituent elements, transmitted his key vibrations by radio, and reassembled him from a supply of identical elements at the other end. And now, if you all assure the woman to her husband is safe, I'll get some sleep.

You'll have the proof before you in less than three hours. Well, I can't vouch for the doctor's feelings. But as Drrell left us, I was satisfied that everything was as it should be, and that I'd just witnessed the greatest scientific achievement of all time. Well, I did not foresee, nor did Drayle, the results of an error or deliberate disobedience on the part of one of his assistants. We waited, and the doctor and I, for the arrival of the man who, we were convinced, had been transported some 300 miles in a manner that defied belief.

Ah, the evidence would come, Drell said, in a few hours. Long before they elapsed, we were starting at the San Francisco. of every passing motor, for we knew that a plane must land some distance from the house, and that the travellers would make the last mile or so by car. Mrs. Drell endeavoured to convince the imagined widow that her husband was safe and was returning speedily. Later she rejoined us, full of questions that we answered in a comforting, blind faith. The time limit was drawn to her close when the sound of an automobile horn was quickly followed by a sharp knock on the laboratory door. At a sign from Mrs. Drell,

One of the policeman opened it, and we saw two men before us. One a scholarly appearing bespectacled youth, I recognised as Drell's Boston Assistant Ward. The other, a rather burly individual, who was a stranger to me. But there was no doubt he was the man we awaited so eagerly, but Mrs. Farrell screamed, Harry, oh, Harry! And sped across the room towards him. At first she ran her fingers.

rather timidly over his face, and then pinched his huge shoulders, as if to assure herself of his reality. The sense of touch must have satisfied her, for abruptly she kissed him, flung her arms about him, clung to him, and crooned little endearments. The big man, in turn, patted her cheeks awkwardly, and mumbled in a convincingly natural voice. It's all right, Mary. Oh, care, there ain't nothing to it. Yep, sure, it's me. And then I was conscious of drills, presence. A brown silk dressing-gown fell shapelessly about his spare frame and smoked from his cigarette rose in a quivering blue-white stream. Ward spied him at the same moment and stepped forward with a quick, outstretched hands. I remember the flame of adoring zeal in the youngsters' eyes as he tried to speak.

At length he managed to stammer some congratulatory phrases while Drell clapped him affectionately on the back. Then Drail turned to Farrell to ask him how he'd enjoyed the trip. Farrell grinned and said, Fine, it's like a dream, sir. First, I'm in one place and then I'm in another, and I don't know nothing about how I got there. What I could do with a drink, sir? I ain't used to them airplanes much.

Orreale accepted the hint and suggested that we all celebrate. He gave instructions over a desk telephone and almost immediately a man entered with a small service wagon containing an assortment of liquors and glasses. When we'd all been served, What asked somewhat hesitantly if you might propose a toast? To Dr. Dr. Dale, the greatest scientist of all time. We were, of course, already somewhat drunk with excitement as we lifted our glasses,

but Drale would not have it. Let me amend that, he said. Let us drink to the future of science. Sure, said Farrell very promptly. I think he was somewhat uncertain about toast, but he clung hopefully to the word drink. We raised our glasses again. When Drale, he was facing the door, dropped his. It struck the floor with a little crash and the liquor spattered my ankles.

Then Drill whispered, Great God. I saw in the doorway another feral. He was grimy, dishevelled, his clothing was torn, and his expression was ugly, but his identity with Harry was unescapable. For an instant, I suspected Drayle of trickery

of perpetuating some fiendishly elaborate hoax And then I heard Mrs. Farrell scream I heard the newcomer cry, Mary, I saw two men staring at each other in bewilderment The explanation burst upon me With a horrible suddenness Farrell

Had been reconstructed in each of Drail's distant laboratories And they stood before us Two identities each equally authentic each the legal husband of the woman who, a few hours previously, had imagined herself a widow. The situation was fantastic, nightmarish, unbelievable and undeniable. My head reeled with the fearful possibilities. Drell was the first to recover his poise. He opened a door leading into an adjoining room and motion for us all to enter.

That is all but the police. He left them wisely with their liquor. "'Oh, finish it,' he advised them. "'You see, no one has been killed.' "'They were not quite satisfied, "'but neither were they certain what they ought to do, "'and for once displayed common sense by doing nothing. "'When the door closed after us,

"'I saw Buchanan, the Washington Laboratory Assistant, "'was with us. "'He must have arrived with the second Farrell, "'although I had not observed him "'during the former's unexpected appearance. "'But Drayle had not observed him, noted him, and now seized his shoulders. God, explain, he demanded.

Oh, Buchanan's face went wide and he shrunk under the clutch of Drell's fingers. Beyond them, I saw two twin-like men standing beside Mrs. Farrell, surveying each other with incredulous recognition and distaste. Explain, roared Drell, and tightened his grip. I thought she said Washington, Chief. His voice was not convinced. and I didn't believe him, nor did Drayle. You lie, he raged, and floored the man with his fist.

In a way I couldn't help feeling sorry for the chap. It's been a frightful temptation to participate in the experiment, and I suppose he'd not foreseen the consequences. But I began to have a glimmering of the magnificent possibilities of the invention for purposes far beyond Drayle's intent. For, I asked myself, if such a machine could produce two human identity, Why not a score?

A hundred, a thousand. The best of the race could be multiplied indefinitely. A man could make man at last, literally out of the dust of the earth. The virtue of instantaneous transmission, which had been Dreo's aim, sank into insignificance beside it. I fancied a race of supermen thus created. And I still believe, Sergeant, the chance for the world's greatest happiness is sealed within that box you guard.

But his first fruits were tragic. The historian shifted his position on the bench so as to escape the sun that was now reflected dazzlingly by the polished steel caskets. Drell did not glance again at his disobedient lieutenant. He was concerned with the problem of the extra man, or, I should say, an extra man, for both were equal. Never before in the history of the world had two men been absolutely identifiable. They were, of course, one in thought, possessions and rights, physical attributes and appearance.

Mrs. Farrell, as they were beginning to realize, was the wife of both, and I have an unworthy suspicion that the red-headed young woman, after she recovered from the shock, was not entirely displeased. The two men, however, finding that each had an arm about her waist, were regarding each other in a way that foretold trouble. Both spoke at the same time, and in the same way. In the same words. Take your hands off my wife. And I think they would have attacked each other then if Drail hadn't intervened. He said, sit down, all of you. It's so peremptory a voice that we obeyed him. Now, he went on. Pay attention to me. I think you realize the situation. The question is, what should we do about it? He pointed an accusing finger at the Farrell from Washington.

"'You were not authorized to exist. "'Prophily we should retransmit you, "'and without reassembling, you would simply cease to be. "'Well, the man addressed looked terrified. "'That'll be murder,' he protested. "'Would it?' Drale inquired of me. "'I told him that it could not be proved "'in as much as there be no corpus delictine,

"'and hence there's nothing on which to base the charge. "'But the Washington Farrell seemed to have more than an academic interest in the question and grew obstin't. Nothing doing, he announced emphatically. Here I am and here I stay. I started from this place this morning and now I'm back. As for that big ape over there, I don't know nothing about him, except he'll be dead damn soon if he don't keep away from my wife. The other, trail-made man laped up at this, and again I expected violence. But Buchanan flung himself between and they subsided, muttering. "'Very well, then,' Drell continued, when the room was quiet.

"'Here is another solution. "'We can, as you realize, duplicate Mrs. Farrell, "'and I'll double your present possessions. "'This time it was Mrs. Farrell who was dissatisfied. "'You ain't taking me,' she informed Drel. "'Me stand naked in front of all them lamps and get turned in the smoke? "'A-uh, not me.' "'A smile spread over her face and her eyes twinkled with deviltry.

I didn't never think I'd be in one of those triangles like in the movies, and with my own husbands, but, well, seeing as I am, I'm all for keeping them both. Then I might know where one of them is some of the time. But neither of the man took to this idea, and the problem appeared increasingly complex. I proposed that the survivor be determined by lot, but this suggestion won no support from anyone. Again, the two men spoke at the same instant and in the same words. It looks like a carefully rehearsed chorus. I know my rights.

I ain't going to be jipped out of them. It was at this point that Drell attempted bribery. He offered $50,000 to the man who would abandon Mrs. Farrell. But this scheme fell through because both men sought the opportunity, and Mrs. Farrell objected volubly. So in the end, Drell promised each of them the same amount as a price for silence and left the matter of their relationships to their own settlement.

Well, I was skeptical of the success of the plan It could offer nothing better And so I drew up a release As legally binding as I knew how to make it In a case without president I remember thinking that if the matter ever came into court The judge would be as much at a loss as I was Our troubles, though, didn't spring from that source

Each of the three parties accepted the arrangement eagerly Andrell dismissed them with a handshake a wish for luck and a check for fifty thousand dollars each. It's very nice to be wealthy, you know. Afterwards we went out and paid off the police. Perhaps that's stating it too bluntly. I mean, Drill thanked them for their zealous attention to his interests, regretted that they'd been unnecessarily inconvenienced,

and treated that they would not take amiss a small token of his appreciation of their devotion to duty. Then he shook hands with them both, and I believe I saw a yellow bill transferred on each occasion. At any rate, the officers saluted smartly and laughed. Of course, I was impatient to question Drale, but I could see that he was desperately fatigued, and so I departed. Next morning I found my worst fears exceeded by the events of the night. The three Farrells who had left us in apparently amiable spirits have proceeded to the home of Mrs. and the original Mr. Farrell. There the argument of who was to leave had been resumed. Both men were, of course, with the same mind.

Whether both desired to stay or flee, I would not presume to stay. But an acrimonious dispute led to physical hostilities, and while Mrs. Farrell, according to accounts, cheered them on, they literally fought to the death. Well, being equally capable, there was naturally, barring interruption, no other possible outcome. I can well believe they employed the same tactics, swung the same blows,

and probably died. at the same instant. Mrs. Farrell, after carefully retrieving both of her husband's checks, told a great deal of the story, as might be expected, nobody believed the yarn except for our profound federal lawmakers. They welcomed an opportunity to investigate an outsider for a change and had all of us before a committee. Finally, the Congress of these United States of America,

plus the sagacious Supreme Court, decided that my client wasn't guilty of anything, but that he mustn't do it again. At least that was the gist of it. I recollect that I offered a defense of psychopathic neuroticism. As a result of the orbiter dictum and a resolution by both houses assembled, Drell's invention was sealed, dated, and placed under guard.

And that's its history, Sergeant. The white-haired old gentleman picked up the high silk hat that added a final touch of distinction to his tall figure and looked about him as if trying to recall something. At last, the idea came. Oh, by the way, he inquired suddenly. Didn't I have an extraordinarily obnoxious grandson with me when I came? The attentive auditor was vastly startled.

He surveyed the Great Hall rapidly, but reflected before he answered. No, sir, I mean, he ain't no more than average, but I reckon we had better find him anyhow. His glance had satisfied the sergeant that at least the object of his charge was safe and his men still vigilant. I'll be back in a minute, he informed them. Don't let nothing happen. Bring us something more than a breath, pleaded the corporal disrespectfully. The sergeant had already set off at a brisk pace with the storyteller.

For several minutes as they rush from room to room, the hunt was unrewarded. I think, sir, said the sergeant. We'd better look in the natural history division. There's stuffed animals in there that kids are Fondar. Ah, you're probably right. The Patriot gasped as he struggled to maintain the gate set by the younger man. I might have known he didn't really want to hear the story. They never do, answered the other over his shoulder.

Hey, I bet that's him down there on the next floor. The two searches had emerged upon a wide gallery that commanded a clear view of the main entrance, where various specimens of American fauna were mounted in the same. intriguing replicas of their native habitat. The guard pointed an accusing finger at one of these groups and sprang toward the stairs. The old gentleman's breath and strength were gone. He could only gaze in the direction that had been indicated by the madly running guard, but he had no doubts. A small boy was certainly digging vigorously at the head of a specimen of Ussus Polaris that the curator had represented in the dramatic pose of killing a seal.

protesting whale arose from below as the young naturalist was withdrawn from his field by a capable hand on the slack of his drowsies and presently chagrined with failure the culprit was before his grandson gee he complained i was only looking at the polar bear hey all polar bear's white you'd better take him away sir interrupted the sergeant he was trying to pry out one of the bear's eyes with the stick of the lollipopper gave him "'You take him.' The old gentleman extended both hands. His left found a grip in the grandson's coat collar. His right, partly concealing a government engraving, met the guards with a clasp of gratitude.

Sergeant, he remarked in a voice, tense with feeling. A half hour ago I expressed some ridiculous regrets that Drell's invention had been kept from the world. Now I realize it's horrid menace. I shudder to think it must be. might have been responsible for two like him. The objective disapproval was shaken indecatively. Guard the secret well, Sergeant, guarded well.

The world's peace depends upon you. The old gentleman's words trembled with conviction. Then, alternately shaking his head and his grandson, he marched down the hallway, Ebony Kane tapping angrily upon the stone. As the exhausted but happy warrior retraced his step, the high-pitched voice floated after him. Grandpa,

Apollo bears are always white. The house my father built was on a cursed foundation. A phantom roamed its halls. By young Setti. I knew something was wrong when my father awoke me that night. You have to stay quiet, Princess. It's like a game. You'd whisper.

We can't wake up your mom. I'm going to take you home now. I was confused, young and still covered in the haze of sleep as he led me out of the house to his truck in the driveway even my attempt to place a small bag i'd been allowed to pack in the trunk of his car was denied just hold it brin he said pulling me back from the truck we need to be quick a car to look back at our house as we pulled off a modest two-story home in the suburbs my room was the second window on the top it'd be the last time i saw

I saw that house for years. I remember his face illuminated in the passing street lamps as we drove. The expression he wore was unlike any I'd ever seen before. In my youth, I attributed it to sadness. He and Mom had been fighting a bunch recently, and I'd heard the word divorce shouted, which meant something even to a nine-year-old. Now, I know it was a sort of guilt I hope to never understand. We drove for hours before the fog of sleep and confusion faded enough for me to ask.

He is, uh, mommy meeting us there? My father's grip tightened on the wheel. Your mother is, but she's not a good person, Bryn. She wanted to take you away from me. I was confused. I mean, I knew my parents yelled and sometimes fought, but in my young mind, dad had never hurt me. Why would my mother ever want to do that? Wasn't my father doing that now?

He told me we were going to a new house. He wasn't ready yet, but he was building it, and he'd make sure it was the best house I'd ever seen. I'd be able to design it with him, put a pool in the bathroom, a slide in place of stairs. By the time we arrived at the location, as his car was pulled into a halt, I'd long since fallen asleep,

my mind full of whimsical ideas about my new home. Well, I arrived to a grim reality. The car was parted in the wake of the skeletal frame of a small house. It was by no means a palace. In fact, it was quite a bit smaller than the one we already had, and sat in a lot surrounded by forest that made it difficult to discern direction. It was only partially completed, missing several walls and flooring in parts of the second floor.

Just a little ways away from it at the mouth of the driveway, sat an older model camping trailer, which would serve as our home for the following year. During that year, I learned not to ask about my mother, not to question why I couldn't call her, or when I'd next see her. Father's mood had always been prone to sudden shifts, almost exclusively towards anger. It'd be than reason for so many of the fights here my mother had had. The ones where I'd try my heart is to hum some song from memory,

or bury myself in a book. in the hopes of distracting myself from hearing the screaming and slamming. Even though my mom wasn't around, and his temper had, for the most part, seemed under control. I knew not to push things. In the best of circumstances, he'd dismiss any question about my mother's absence, usually pinning the blame vaguely on her, and then sulking silence for hours afterward. That's during the worst, which came far more often, he wouldn't say a thing, simply glaring at me before stewing in a silent rage that always felt like the quiet before a familiar storm

I'd never known him to blow up on me in fact it was usually the opposite growing up I was his princess whom he seemed to feel needed to be protected from what he viewed as my mother's bad influence well he'd never put his hands on me apparently reserving all the worst of his wrath from my mom but she wasn't around now and I wasn't going to take chance to ounces. I would never yet be violent toward me. A part of me was always certain deep down that he was capable of it. During those months a strange new reality began to settle in, and with it a new day to day. It's strange how easily a child can adjust to a whole new way of life. It's funny how malleable you are at that age. No matter how strange or peculiar the new

situation may be, children just assume the adults in their life know. best and adjust, allowing it to be their new normal. I was homeschooled on the days my father wasn't working on a job or construction gig, and when he was I occupied my time reading the books he'd bring me back from town in the trailer. Above all, I was expected to stay on the property, told never to wander too far from the trailer. The hour's home alone would grow boring, and in the boredom I found the perfect breeding ground for longing. Yes, but my own. I was my mind would turn to thoughts of my mother and my old life. I miss my mother, my old room, and my old home,

though I knew better than to express as much to my father, who never took well to discussion of our past life, as he called it. I'd try and stave off this longing, flipping through the tiny picture book I'd managed to sneak from my room when I'd packed, struck by an odd urge at the time. It contained my favourite photo of my mother and father, for months before I was born at their wedding. I'd always thought my mother looked like such a princess in the image.

A white dress and long brown hair I'd always taken after, style beautifully, a far cry from the usual exhausted mother appearance. When that failed to suffice, I took to wandering that skeleton of a house that stood like a surfacing corpse beside us as a distraction. Despite my father's many warnings against its safety, there was something about the creaky old shell of a home, slowly filling out day by day into something livable that filled me with an odd sort of comfort as I wandered its halls.

And that all changed one day, entirely without warning, save for my father ripping out much of the foundation of the house. He'd been returning home from work visibly stressed more and more recently. He'd been more insistent than ever that I stay within the clear, not even venturing out into the forest anymore. Any questions on my part were dismissed with a brief safety in reply. And then one day, Father didn't come home on time.

Five o'clock came and went, sunset soon following, and still he hadn't returned. I wasn't until long after dark, and I'd fallen asleep rife with worry, that I heard the crunch of his ties on the gravel path leading up to our lot. He didn't even come to the trailer, going straight for the ghastly form of the house, far more ominous in the moonlight, the sledgehammer over his shoulder. Well, that was the first night of his digging. I watched from the window as he entered the house and began slamming the head of his hammer into the concrete. The quiet of the forest was pierced by the constant thud of metal on cement, chipping away slowly.

I fell asleep that night to the incessant, almost haunting cluck of his hammer against the newly-laid concrete. Oh, it's not right, not yet. Yeah, the cement was too porous. The whole thing would have sunk over time. He'd offered briefly an explanation when I questioned him at breakfast the following morning about what I'd seen the night before.

I knew something was wrong, though. The woods didn't feel the same after that day, and the house even less so. Suddenly its halls felt, well, so hot. hollow foreboding. In the days following that night, when I was home alone, and the wind whistled through the hollow halls, I was certain I could hear a voice singing. There was a woman, her words indistinct, but an immeasurable sadness present in her tone as it echoed in the frigid air of the night. It was around this time that the dreams began plaguing me. They were always the same.

There was me, a house, and a woman. The house stood like the remnants of something old and dead. Its wooden frame was replaced with pale bone, and thin veins running in place of the errant wires. At the centre of the basement, she was always stood. The woman in white, her face covered with a veil so thin and ethereal in the wind, that it appeared to be made of spider-sill. She sang a song so sad, so familiar,

I had always sent a pang of sorrow through my heart. I approached a sense of unshakable familiarity driving me forth. My hand would reach out for her veil, half expecting my fingers to tear through it and contact it. And then I always woke up. My face would be wet with tears, and an air of dread would cling to me for several minutes. I learned very quickly not to mention the woman, the voice or the dreams to my father, after his reaction that following morning. I'd never seen him so pale when I brought it up.

His face screwed up and his head seemed to turn an instinct to cast a glance down the hallway. Well, he busied himself that entire day, refilling the ruined basement floor with cement and sequestering me to the trailer for safety reasons. For the next few months, things progressed as normally as could be expected. The dreams continued, eventually becoming an accepted part of life. Thoughts of my mother plagued me, all the questions I couldn't ask piling up. I missed her. I wondered if she knew where we were. I doubted it. Even at that age I could now

understand that my father kept me cooped up here for a reason. That summer my father made a few friends on one of his latest jobs, and they helped him finally finished its construction. I watched as covertly as I could from the window of the trailer, staying out of the a sight whenever they were around, as per my father's orders. He was so proud in those final months of its construction. "'Now we can get to leave it all behind, truly,' he would say, gripping my hand. But the look in his eyes was always so desperate, pleading, as though he were trying to convince himself. And then he'd wipe it all away with a smile as he looked on at the rapidly forming house before us.

By the end of the summer, the house was complete. It was a modest two-story house, painted a vibrant yellow, which had been the color of my choice. It was a far cry from the castle my father had initially promised, but it was a home and was surely going to be a step up from the beat-up old trailer. We spent the following weeks transforming the empty shell of a house into something of a home, painting the walls in the small living room, regal sort of mahogany. my own room covered in facsimiles of unicorns, golden-haired princesses, and other things my father saw as being fit for a little girl's room.

The dreams continued in the weeks following our move into the house, but they changed in subtle but disquieting ways. For one, the woman's song now didn't sound quite so distant. From the very first night we spent in the house, I had the dream of the woman. and it was different this time her voice seemed in not to come from somewhere outside but rather carrying

through the pitch black halls of the house it was as though the sound originated from somewhere deep within the way it seemed to almost carry through the walls airy and chilling as though the house itself was singing her somber tune

over that time I was constantly exhausted my father started to notice something was wrong as it nodded off during dinners, well, but he obviously couldn't begin to suspect what, though. I often gave the excuse of not being used to my new room, which seemed to quell his worries. He bought the first TV we'd owned since leaving home. It was a cheap thing, but I was thrilled to have something besides books to entertain myself with, and it was fine with that so long as I

avoided adult programs and only used it under his supervision. There were other effects of my lack of sleep, ones that were odd and harder to justify to myself. I was beginning to hear that strange singing even in my waking hours. Whenever I was just about to nod off, it would start as if my dreams were beginning

just a tad too early. I learned quickly not to react too much when the singing began its echo from behind our basement door. It was clear that, whatever it was, Father couldn't hear it. Time began to lose its meaning after almost two years.

My sleep schedule was shot and paired with the fact that father insisted I remained with an hour little section of the woodland. My mind remained constantly in an odd haze. So when I began seeing the woman in white in my waking hours, I could only question my own eyes.

Like a song, I tried to ignore her when I caught sight of her pale, incorporeal form. As she moved through the halls, her form like the static of a television and cloudy and fuzzy like she was made of snow. Where she passed, the dull red of the wall seemed to rot and decay, revealing necrotic muscle and tissue beneath.

She would drift by seeing that song that felt so familiar until she reached the basement door. It was always the basement door. And there she would wait, turning her head to watch me as if waiting for me to open it. And for months I never did. I tried my best act as though I saw nothing at dinner when it seemed she appeared the most, keeping my eyes locked on my father as she'd wander past on her way to that basement door.

If I waited long enough, she would disappear, fading into nothingness. On some particularly disconcerting occasions, she stood behind him, staring down at him through that veil. Though I couldn't see her face, I could feel hate. radiating from her she remained like that until father had left the table at which point she continued on to the basement door as time seemed to pass in a blur my resolve began to wane my father began to catch my gaze wandering more and more often roaming as if following something he couldn't see I could tell it was freaking him out by the worried looks he'd shoot

me all the ways gaze would fall on the basement door When the night came that I finally broke, my father was away. As the construction season passed, he'd taken a job a few nights a week at a local warehouse that kept him away from home until the early morning hours. The house was mine in those hours. It never was I allowed the luxury of feeling alone. Even when I couldn't see her, I could hear her, a waking dream superimposed over reality. I was eating alone at the dinner table.

the TV blaring some local news channel in the other room, just to stave off the silence. And then her song began, a tense stop out of instinct, doing my best to keep my eyes on my food as her form drifted into the room. My father was gone, which meant there was only one place she would head, as she did so often. At the basement. I watched from my peripheral as she moved past the other end of the table. perhaps it was a year's worth of exhaustion and rising paranoia finally making me break but her song that hauntingly familiar hymn words always just out of reach god it felt like i knew it slowly chewed the chicken from my microwavable dinner and two things occurred to me almost simultaneously like lights flicking on in the darkness one was an idea the other a dawning realisation I dropped my fork, and before I could even consider my next actions, I was up from the table,

pushing the chair back and rounding the table. She stood, flickering like an old movie outside of the basement door, and for once I looked, not bothering to try and hide the fact as I approached. I think by that point, a part of me already knew that the woman was no mere effect of exhaustion. She was real, or at least not limited to my imagination. I'd always try to justify the faint creaking of flaws as she passed over them, but I always knew. My heart raced like a jackrabbit in my chest, a smell reminiscent of when I sat inches from our old box set as a kid, singeing my nostrils.

The paint on the wall seemed to bruise, turning yellow, and then grey as they rotted with her passing. Before I could think, I reached out and touched the nearest wall, running my finger along it as I approached. It was wet and brittle to the touch, a thin trail of clear slime extending with me as I pulled back. She froze, coming to a stop at her usual destination, and turned to watch me expectantly. A cold dread sunk its claws into me as I stared into that veil, holding me in place for a moment. I mustered the fleeting wisps of courage I had. With a sigh, I pulled open the basement door. Her reaction was immediate.

She shot forward, passing through my arm as though it were nothing. I yanked it back, gasping as an icy wave of pins and needles filled the limb. Her head tilted just slightly, as though curious about my reaction. But she turned in an instant, disappearing in a faint glow into the darkness below. I know no rational person would have followed, when I was young, that curious familiarity seemed to pull me forth. It was odd to think, but I almost felt more comfortable with the phantom woman at this point than I had around my father since the night he'd returned with the hammer. Something about him had just seemed different. I followed the woman into the basement, the steps groaning underfoot.

A dank, damp smell had already come. to fill the air, into mingling with the dust left by construction. With each creak of the steps as I approached the cold floor beneath, the nod of anxiety in me poured itself tighter. A feeling of dawning dread

started to eke past the patchwork wall of bravery that I'd built. I with my hand blindly for the string attached to the singular light bulb in the basement, eventually finding it and pulling nothing. The second and third ball returned the same results.

The woman's fate song rose from behind me. I turned to face her. Her faint glow illuminated the other half of the room, and I shuddered. It would have to be enough. Slowly, I began to approach her. She was kneeling, head lowered into her hands, as she sat before a spot on the con. I recognized it immediately.

It was a slightly off shade of grey, different from the rest of the room. Newer, the sound of that incessant clattering, my father's hammer against concrete, rang in the back of my mind. So much had changed that night. It had been after that that the woman's song began to haunt me. It had seemed to be yet another point in my life at which things have taken a turn for the unfortunate, a strange catalyst for a dark shift. the catalyst for all of it being the night my father took me from my home the woman raised her head from her hands as i approached staring up at me with that same silent expectancy that she possessed waiting outside of the basement what what do you want for me to do i asked my voice shaking with desperation and the ever-present instinctual sort of horror always at the back of my mind as i stood in the presence of the impossible

She lifted her arm, pointing one pale, unclear finger towards a dark corner of the room, illuminating it as though holding a pale blue candle. In the corner leaned my father's sledgehammer. It took only seconds before I understood what I was being instructed to do, what I had been called to do for months. I made my way to the corner, gripping the handle of the thing in my small hands. Oh, I strained, kneeling as I lifted the hammer from its corner, maneuvering it around and over my shoulder, before approaching her again.

The woman stood, a fluid, almost instant motion as if she'd moved from one still to another, stepping to the side of the strange point in the cement. The air buzzed with indescribable energy, thick with attention caused by the presence of something impossible, and the sheer insanity of what I was engaged in. I stared at the woman for a moment, I was trying to peer beneath that veil, unsure for a moment of what I was about to do.

She gave me the briefest nod, and in that instance I felt certain of what I must do. I raised the hammer as high as I could manage, swaying lightly under the weight, and brought it down with a clank of metal on concrete. A few chips of cement broke off, but little else. I did it again, and again. The progress was slow, almost negligible at first,

and though I wondered if I was even making progress, I was spurred forth by the woman's gaze. There was something down there. I suppose I might have realised that deep down, that my father took to it with a sledgehammer, his excuse it always seemed lackluster I continued like that for hours

until my palms were slick with blood and sweat tearing open from the friction I was drenched my hair clinging to my forehead and my pyjamas to my skin my arms were on fire but I continued

hours passing until eventually I'd made a significant dent in the concrete and there was something there visible just beneath the dust and debris. I was wrapped in cloth, white at one point, now stained a deep, rotten grey. The smell hit me immediately. I dropped the hammer to my side, stumbling away as my knees buckled and my eyes watered. The cold pit that had been present inside of me from the moment my father

woke me up in my room stretched now until it enveloped me. The stench was like meat long gone bad, almost like the cat that had been hit outside of my house when I was little and left out in the summer sun. It was death, pure and unfiltered. I felt tears running down my face and fought off the urge to relieve my bladder as my body shook in response to this smell. The woman turned and faced me, and in an instant she stood before me. One of her hands rose to my face, and I started to cry, but she continued. holding it as close to my face as she could without passing through it. I could feel of radiating coolness from her, faint but there,

and she kneeled until her veil was only inches from my face. She began to sing, that familiar wordless hymn of hers. It echoed through the empty room, filling my mind with a sudden, much-needed calm. I felt my heartbeat slow and my breathing return to a steady pace. Upon seeing my reaction, she turned her head towards the crater I'd made, and when she turned back, I knew what she wanted me to do. I nodded, stealing myself and moving towards the reeking hole in the ground.

She followed at my side, and it brought me a comfort I hadn't felt in years. I kneeled at the side of the fabric, holding my nose with one hand, and reaching out to grab at the edge of the cloth with the other. I poured it aside. My heart dropped, and my stomach flipped in my gut. There was the head of a corpse beneath, petrified, its grey skin clinging to the bone, and its hair. Its hair was almost a reflection of my own long, dark locks.

Mommy? I breathed the word, my throat tightening, tears springing forth. I turned my head to face the woman who'd been haunting my dreams, searching for some sort of answer. As I looked to her, the veil over her face, always obscuring her features, began to dissipate, fading like smoke in a breeze. And the pale, almost blurry countenance of my mother stood before me. She gazed down at her body, a look of sadness noticeable in the faint visual snow of her features as she looked at me. And all at once, recognition bloomed, and everything clicked.

The familiarity of her song, a song whose words I'd long since lost a time, but whose tone I would always remember, as the lullaby my mother sang to me when I was younger. I'd seen her pale dress before as well, in the singular photo I'd managed to bring from home. It always made her look like royalty. my stomach turned as I realized why my father had been acting so suspiciously. He killed her. He had killed my mother, burying her beneath my very feet. I felt like I might be sick. Mommy!

I breathed again, an overwhelming mix of sadness, longing, and hope filling me all at once. She kneeled until her face was at my level. A sad smile spreading across her features. Why? Why did you make me do this? She frowned. Her colourless eyes somehow glistening with emotion at that. It confused me at the time, but in hindsight I imagine she needed me to know, needed me to understand I wasn't safe with my father. It immediately occurred to me that her colours seemed to be fading now.

That otherworldly sort of pale blue was now a faint white. like a light being gradually lowered. I could feel somehow that I'd done it. Whatever it was, she required of me. My mother, or what remained of her at least, was not long for this world. Her face fell and then screwed in an instant. A look of fury blazed over her expression.

My heart almost burst from my chest. She turned to face the basement door, then turned back to me her expression. stern. She extended one rapidly fading hand towards a singular window in the basement, leading into a window well outside. From somewhere upstairs, a door slammed shut. Brian, where are you, baby? My heart sank as though thrown in quicksand as my father's voice carried down the stairs. I felt a fear unlike anything I felt since shocked my system as I glanced back at the body of my mother. I couldn't know what he might do to me for uncovering it, and I didn't want to.

He killed my mother, there was no telling him what he might be capable of doing to me. The realisation that my father had become someone unrecognizable to me was a chilling one. I'd left the table in a hurry, leaving my food nearly untouched in the basement door wide open. If he came looking, which I was certainly would, it would only be a brief matter of time. That icy burst of pins and needles exploding in the skin of my back drew my attention then, and I turned to see what was left of Mother, gesturing frantically at the window, her meaning finally clicking. Bren, you down there, I've told you it's not safe. Others' voice carried from nearby now.

He couldn't be too far from the basement door, just a bit of hallway and some steps still separating us. I hurried over to the window, wincing with each slap of my feet on the concrete. I began to fumble with a lock, each of my father's approaching footsteps from the floor above, making my heart leap further into my throat. Finally it twisted with a pop, and I slid the window open, letting in a rush with a frigid night air. "'Rindley!' his voice was louder now, hoarse with a blend of rising anger and panic. The phantom woman, my mother, watched me. me with a longing expression as she kneeled down beside her exposed corpse, her eyes communicating

everything she was unable to say. I love you too, Mama. She nodded her head once, pointing again at the open window. I climbed out, standing up in the window well, and shooting her one last glance. She kneeled, almost frustrating until her face was within inches of her corpse. His mouth snapped open As if some invisible string had been yanked And in that instant with one last glance my way She was gone Disappearing inside the mouth of the corpse

Which snapped shut behind her A faint dull glow seemed to settle Just beneath its skin And for just a moment I could see her laying there As she used to be A beautiful face merely sleeping And then it was gone

The glow faded leaving only the dried husk. Brinley Jane Adams, answer me, damn it. My eyes widened with cold panic. He was coming, just at the top of the stairs now by the sounds of it. The thump of footfalls on the basement stairs sprung me into action, spurring me forth like a frightened animal. I strained to pull myself out of the window well.

My arms felt hot and full of sand after my hours with the sledgehammer. I scrabble for some purchase along the rigid metal walls with my feet, eventually managing to boost myself up enough to just slowly begin rising onto the ground above. It was dark out, and the forest around me was pitch black, with the exception at the faint light glowing from the windows of the house. I groaned as I pulled myself out of the window, well, out onto the ground, but had little time to catch my breath. Oh, God.

Oh, my God. I could hear his voice, his stunned whispered just a few feet away in the room beneath me. He was in the basement now, surely seeing my mother's corpse uncovered, and the window open mere feet away. Renly, he sounded unhinged, his voice seemed to shake the walls around him. I pull myself to my feet and ran, twigs and crinkling leaves, and now it was the sudden burst of movement as I peeled off towards the tree. which had for years symbolized the border edge of my entire world. Brindley, please, I did it for you, baby.

Your mom, she was sick. I thought she might hurt you, and she wanted to take you away. Brin, Brin, you know Daddy would never hurt you, right? His voice pleaded from behind me at points wavering with exertion. A chance to glance behind me as I ran at the corner of the hands. house, heading off towards the gravel path that served as our driveway, just in time to see my father pulling himself to his feet where I'd stood outside the window well just before. Her eyes met briefly, his glistening with tears and an unfamiliar madness. My heart pounded in my chest and

my lungs burned, the bottoms of my bare feet beginning to sting from the pebbles, the twigs, and the detritus of the forest. Brinley! He hardly shrieked my name. Really? I did it for you. He was gaining on me. I could tell by the rapid approach

of his unhinged screaming. Despite my best efforts, I was half the size of my father and without my shoes, running was growing to be excruciating. I had to think of something quickly. I veered off, hoping my father wouldn't emerge in time

to see where I was heading, racing off towards the old trailer. It had all but been untouched since the house was built. A rotting memory stood on cinder blocks. I quickly crawled beneath and held my breath, watching the corner I'd just round it. My father emerged seconds later. His eyes were wide and wild, searching frantically through the surrounding brush. His hair was slicked with sweat and clung to his forehead in wet clumps.

and in his hand he gripped a blade. I didn't want to know what he intended to do with it. How did you know? He moaned into the darkness, his voice wavering as he sobbed the question. What did those dreams, huh? Did your bitch of a mother fuck me over just one more time from beyond the grave? He spun as he spoke, eyes practically bulging as they scanned the darkness, and his face a deep red, jaw clenched and teared as his spittle flew.

I clasped my hand over my mouth, praying for my very heart-beaten breathing to be silenced. He shook with emotion, unmitigated rage, and an unhinged sadness. Oh, he screamed loud and roar, kneeling down for a moment with his head between his hands, and my heartbeat practically froze as we stood almost at eye-level. To my luck, he stood, never bothering to look beneath the trailer. Brinley, I know you can hear me out there. I tried my best for you, baby. I really did.

I tried to make sure you didn't grow up like her, that you were good and obedient. But I'm sorry, baby, don't think I can help you, he muttered, head lowered in his hands. No matter what I do, half of you. comes from her and maybe maybe you were always heard his eyes snapped up right at the trailer he rose his hand working nervously around the hilt of the blade and rounded the trailer opening the door he thought i was inside oh this was my chance i carefully stood out from beneath the trailer on the opposite side as i heard the door shut behind him. I was no more than 20 yards from the tree line.

If I could disappear into the woods, so I could find my way back to the road eventually. I knew it was risky. I knew he could potentially see me from the windows of the trailer, but staying put felt far riskier. So taking a breath, I slared out from beneath the trailer and darted for the trees. I was just passing the first line of old oaks

when I heard the door slam behind me and the clamour of movement. "'Rindley, come here, baby, girl. "'I'm not mad. "'I understand now you are never going to be mine. "'Always hers. "'Always poisoned by her sickness. "'But that's okay.

"'Daddy's going to help you see Mommy again, I promise. "'It'll be easy. "'Just stop running. "'I felt jagged rocks and sharp twigs "'tare into my feet, "'but I didn't slow down, "'racing through the forest, "'as branches whipped at my feet.

my face and my eyes. Oh, come here, you little bitch, he roared that familiar, unhinged anger I used to see during his and my mother's arguments, and it was now finally taking full control. My father was bigger, faster, and angrier. But for me, well, I've been stuck on that property for years since we'd moved, limited only to the surrounding woods for any semblance of adventure. I knew them better than he did. There was a gulch approaching, through which a small stream ran,

farther down the way a large cement pipe opened up into it, big enough for me to crawl into. The sound of breaking branches and earth trampled underfoot grew behind me, my father screaming a wordless, rage-filled scream. I let myself slide down the gulch, landing in the little stream below, pulling myself onto its banks, and ran until I reached the pipe, crawling inside.

The faint trickle of water echoed through the long, dark tunnel, and a wet, damp smell filled the air. I stayed quiet. Footsteps approached from somewhere outside, and I felt my heart soar into my throat, threatening to suffocate me right there as they drew nearer. The sound of water being disturbed, as someone trudged through it, made me freeze, right as a bear of legs appeared outside of my hiding spots. I held my breath, knowing my life likely depended on it. Brinley, you come back here, damn it. I jumped, but managed to stay quiet.

Really? He called again, voice lower, raw now with emotion. He stayed out there for what felt like hours, but couldn't have been more than minutes, moaning my name like some phantom as he roamed the woods in search of me. The moment he left the spirit, I was gone, darting through the woods regardless of the injuries to my feet, refusing to stop until I reached the nearest active road.

I nearly got myself killed, throwing myself in front of the beams of the approaching pickup, signalling them to stop. Luckily, they managed to stop a mere foot away from me. Well, now what in the fuck are you think? The driver began, a big burly sort of guy with a thick red beard. and he paused as soon as he got a good look at me. God, I must have looked a mess. A twelve-year-old girl covered in sweat and filthy water,

clothes torn from prying branches, feet bleeding, and eyes red and puffy. I offered the best, briefest explanation than I could. The truth. My father had killed my mother and was now trying to kill me, leaving out the unnecessary details for time, and a doubt that it would make me seem, anything other than crazy. I suppose I was lucky I hadn't stumbled into a worse creep.

The man immediately drove me to the local police station, even giving me his jacket to stay warm on the drive after seeing me shiver while we drove. I didn't bother to mention that it wasn't from the cold. When we arrived at the station, the cop at the desk's eyes widened upon seeing me, her face going pale at first. Holy shit, she breathed.

"'Brinly Adams?' "'I nodded, confusion and exhaustion "'covering my thoughts in a haze. "'You're alive!' she breathed as if looking at a ghost. "'She stood from her chair, "'giving the man a questioning look, "'causing him to raise his arms in a placating gesture "'and begin explaining.

"'A, I just found her on the side of the road, "'almost hit the damn kid. "'Ah, she was a mess.' "'The woman rounded her desk, kneeling in front of me. Brinley, you've been missing for almost two and a half years. Ever since that night, your father... She trailed off, looking somewhat uncomfortable.

Killed my mom. I finished, eyes glazing as the words seemed to finally hit home. She nodded, pressing her lips into a thin line. No, this is going to be hard, but one of the other officers is going to take you to a room and ask you some questions, okay, I need you to tell us what happened these last few years. So, I did. The one called her colleagues, and before long the precinct was a buzz with news of my return.

Apparently my disappearance had become something of a minor phenomenon in the area, old reports of my being seen years prior stirring our ordeal into something of an urban legend. The morning after my father had taken me, my mother had reported the kidnapping, and was raising hell to get me back. Her efforts were blowing the story up, and my face had apparently been on so many posters, billboards, and newsreels, that I was something of a minor celebrity in the area.

I couldn't be sure, but when my mother disappeared, they suspected my father had played a role, but with him still MIA, it was impossible to prove, and so the case of her murder and my kidnapping both fell cold. Until my miraculous return, that is, by the end of the hour officers had already been dispatched to my father's house in search of him. They found him, in the basement alongside my mother, having repainted the walls with his brain

and the business end of a shotgun. I spent some time in the foster care system before they eventually found my next of kin, a cousin of my mother's who was willing to take on the responsibility of raising me. Well, as ridiculous as it seems to survive what I did, I lived a relative good life, all things considered. My past would always be marred by the hideous scar of what I'd experienced, and my nightmares were played by half-remembered memories of phantom women and the sound of a sledgehammer. But I was alive, and each passing day was another handful of dirt on the coffin of that memory.

Or at least, it had been. I'd been content to limit my recollection of the event for the odd therapy session, and never once what I have considered really was. living it all in the form of a story, but well, I guess I don't know what else to do. I almost convinced myself I'd misremembered much of the events. Through therapy and self-doubt,

I'd been more than willing to rationalize the things I'd seen and heard as some convoluted coping mechanism my mind had devised to lead me to a conclusion I must have somehow known deep down and provide the closure I needed. But now, Now, I'm not so sure.

It began last night. Last night, as sleep began to pull me into its murky depths. I heard something, something eerily, unshakably familiar, that sent a cold chill down my spine. From somewhere outside of my house, amidst the surrounding forest, echoed a sound I recognised, wordless, but unmistakable. It was the rage-filled cry of a man, one I'd heard many years before. My father, the trail of mystery gold leads Kahn's and Dr. Bird to a tremendous monster of the deep.

The Sea Terror by Captain S. P. Meek. Beg your pardon, sir, I'm looking for Dr. Bird. The famous Bureau of Standard Scientist appraised the speaker rapidly. keen blue eyes stare questioningly at him from a mahogany brown face, criss-crossed with a thousand tiny wrinkles. The tattooed anchor on his hand and the ill-fitting blue serge suit smacked to the sea, while the squareness of his shoulders and the direct gaze of his eye spoke eloquently of authority. I'm Dr. Bird, Captain. What can I do for you?

Thank you, doctor, but I'm not a captain. My name's Mitchel and I am, or rather was, the first maid of the Arathusa. The Arathusa? Operative Kahn's of the United States Secret Service sprang to his feet. You said the Arithusa? There were no survivors. I believe that I'm the only one.

Where have you been hiding? Why haven't you reported the fact to your rescue to the proper authorities? Tell the truth now, I'm a federal officer. "'Karns flashed the gold badge of the secret service, "'and an expression of anger crossed Mitchell's face. "'If I'd wish to talk to an officer, "'I could have found plenty in New York,' he said shortly. "'I came to Washington in order to tell my story to Dr. Bird.'

"'The seaman and the detective glared at one another for a moment, "'and then Dr. Bird intervened. "'Ah, pipe down, Carnes,' he said softly. "'Mr. Mitchell undoubtedly has reasons. excellent reasons for his actions now sit down mr mitchell and have a cigar mitchell accepted the cigar which the doctor preferred and took a chair he lit the weed and after another glance of hostility toward the detective he pointedly ignored him and addressed his remarks to dr bird i have no objection to telling you why i haven't spoken earlier doctor he said when the arithusa sank i must have hit my head on something for the next thing I knew I was in the marine hospital in New York I've been picked up unconscious by a fishing boat and brought in and I lay there a week before I knew anything when I

knew what I was doing I heard about the loss of my ship and was told that there were no survivors and well I didn't know what to do the story I had to tell was so weird and improbable that I hesitated to speak to anyone about it I wasn't sure at first that it wasn't a trick of a disordered brain, but since my head is cleared, I'm, well, I'm convinced to the truth of it, and yet I know that it can't be so. I've read about you and some of the things you've done, and so as soon as I was able to travel, I came here to tell you about it. You'll be better able to judge than I. What I tell you really happened, or was only a vision. Dr. Bird leaned back in his chair and put the tips of his fingers together. Long, tapering fingers they were.

sensitive and well-shaped, though sadly marred by acid stains. It was in his hands alone that Dr. Bird showed the genius in his makeup, the artistry that inspired him to produce those miracles of experimentation, which had made his name a household word in the realms of science. Aside from those hands, he more resembled a pugilist than a scientist. A heavy shock of unruly black hair surmounted a face with beetling black brows and a prognathous jaw. His enormous head, with a breadth and height of forehead which were amazing, rose from a pillar-like neck which sprang from a pair of massive shoulders

and the arching chest of the trained athlete. Yes, Dr. Bird stood six feet two inches in his socks and weighed over 200 pounds. As he leaned back, a curious spark, which Kahn had learned to associate with keen interest, showed for an instant in his eyes. "'I'll be glad to hear your story, Mr. Mitchell,' he said softly. "'Tell it in your own way and try not to admit any detail, no matter how trivial it may be.' The seaman nodded and sat silently for a moment, as though collecting his thoughts. "'The story really starts the afternoon of May 12th,' he said,

"'although I didn't realize the importance of the first incident at the time. He was sailing along at good speed. hoping to make New York before we were too late for quarantine, when a hail came from the forward lookouts. I was on watch, and I went forward to see what was the matter. The lookout was Louis Green, an able-bodied seaman, and a good one, but, well, a confirmed drunkard. I asked him what the trouble was, and he turned toward me,

with a face that was haggard with terror. I've seen a sea serpent, Mr. Mitchell, he said. "'Nonsense,' I replied sharply. "'You've been drinking again.' "'Well, he swore that he hadn't, "'and I asked him to describe what he'd seen. "'His teeth were chattering, so he could hardly speak. "'But he gassed out a story

"'about seeing this monstrous head, "'a half mile across,' he said, "'with a long snake body stretching out over the sea "'until the end of it was lost on the horizon. "'I'd turn in the direction he pointed, "'and, of course, there's nothing to be seen. seen. The man's condition was such as to make him worse than useless as a lookout, so I relieved him and ordered him below. I took it for a touch of delirium. Well, we were bucking a headwind,

although not a very stiff one. We didn't make port until after dark, so we anchored a quarantine, just off Staten Island, in 40 thathoms of water, and Captain Murphy radioed for a coast guard boat to come out and lay by us for the night. As you probably heard, you've probably heard, we were carrying four billion in gold bars consigned to the Federal Reserve Bank of New York from the Bank of England. Dr. Byrd and Kahn's nodded. The inexplicable loss of the Erethusa had occupied much space in the papers ten days earlier. Well, the cutter came out, signalled, and dropped anchor about 300 yards away.

So far everything was exactly as it should be. I walked to the stern of the boat and looked out across the Atlantic. Then I realized that green was in the... only one who could see things. The wind had fallen and it was getting pretty dark, but not too dark to see things a pretty good distance away. As I looked, I saw, I thought I saw, a huge black leathery mess come to the surface a mile or so away. There were two things on it that looked like eyes, but I had a feeling as though some malignant thing was staring at me. I rubbed my eyes and looked again, but the vision persisted, and I went forward to get a glass.

When I came back to the thing, whatever it was, it disappeared, but the water where it had been was boiling as though there were a great spring or something of the sword under the surface. I trained my glass on the disturbed area, and I'll take my oath that I saw a huge body like a snake emerging from the water. It lay in long undulations on the waves, and moved with them as though it were floating. It was quite a bit nearer than the first thing I'd been, and I could see it plainly with the glass. I judge it to be fifteen or twenty feet thick, and it actually seemed to disappear in the distance,

as Greener described it. The sight of the thing sent shivers up and down my spine, and I gave a hoarse shout-out. The lookout, hurried to my side, and asked me what the trouble was. So I pointed it and handed in the glass. He looked through it and handed it back to me with a curious expression. Can't see nothing, sir, he said. I took the glass from him,

tried to level it, but my hands were trembling so that I was forced to rest it on the rail. Yeah, the lookout was right. There was absolutely nothing to be seen, and the peculiar appearance of the sea had subsided to normal now. The lookout was staring at me rather curiously, and I knew that he was thinking the same thing about me as I'd thought about green in the afternoon.

I made some kind of an excuse and went below to pull myself together. Then I caught a glimpse of myself in the glass, while I was as wide as a sheet, and the sweat was running off my face in drops. Well, I pulled myself together after a while and managed to persuade myself that the whole thing was just a trick of my mind, inspired by Green's vivid description of his delirious vision of the afternoon. And a bell struck, and when Mr. Fulton, the junior officer,

relieved me, I lay down and tried to quiet myself. I didn't have much luck. Just before I took the deck again at midnight, I slipped down to the forecastle to see how Green was coming along. He was lying in his bunk, wide awake, with staring eyes. Hey, how are you feeling Green? I asked. He looked up at me with an expression of a man who's looked death in the face. Ain't there no chance of docking tonight, Mr. Mitchell?

He asked. "'Of course not,' I said rather sharply. "'What's the matter with you? "'You afraid your sea serpent will get us?' "'He'll get us if we stay out here tonight, sir,' he replied, with an air of conviction. "'I saw the horrible mouth on him, large enough to bite their ship in half. "'And it had a bee like a bird, like this parrot, sir. "'I saw its horrible body, too, with grey-black ulcers on the underside of it

where the sharks have been after it. Well, for all the shark takes a man now and then. He is the seaman's friend, sir, because he kills off the sea serpents who would take ship and all. Nonsense, green, I said sharply. Don't talk any more foolishness, or I'll have you reprimand it. You've been drinking so much that you're seeing things,

and I won't have the crew disturbed by your crazy talk. Oh, you won't think it's talk when those big eyes stare into yours tonight. Mr. Mitchell, and that body twists around you and squeezes the life out of you. I don't care whether you call me crazy or not. I know that I'm doomed, and so is everyone else. But I won't talk about it, sir. The crew might as well rest easy while they can,

for there's no escape if we stay out here tonight. Well, be sure to keep your mouth tight then, I said, and left rather hurriedly. I was in a cold sweat For his air of conviction Together with what I'd seen Had me shaken pretty badly I heard the watch changing up above

I knew there'd be man in the forecastle in a minute I didn't want to face him right then I didn't want to face him right then Mr. Fulton reported everything quiet when I went on deck to relieve him. Although I surveyed the water through a nightglass for as far as I could see, there was nothing out of the way, nothing unto war. The Coast Guard's lights were shining less than a quarter of a mile away, and things looked peaceful enough. The wind had gone down with the sun, and the sea was almost glassy, and there was a bright moon. After going around the ship, I relieved all of the watch except two men for lookouts and sent them below to get a good night's sleep.

Well, if I hadn't done that, some of them might be alive now. I paced the deck for an hour, trying to quiet my nerves, but really getting more nervous with every passing minute. Three bells struck, and I walked forward and leaned on the rail to watch the water. I saw a peculiar swirl as though some large, body were coming to the surface from below. And then, I saw it. Dr. Bird, I take a drink once in a while when I'm on shore, but never at sea, never in excess. And I know it wasn't a vision of drunk delirium. I felt perfectly normal aside from my nervousness. I don't think it was fever. Well, either I saw it or I am insane, for it is as vivid to me now.

as it was when I was standing on the Arathusa's deck, and that monstrous horror was rising once more before my eyes. The seaman's face had become drawn and white, as he taught, and drops of sweat were trickling from his chin. Garn sat forward, absorbed in his narrative, while Dr. Bird sat back with a glitter in his black eyes, and an expression of great attention on his face. Go on, Mr. Mitchell, the doctor said soothingly,

"'Tell me just exactly what you saw.' Mitchell shuddered and glanced quickly around the laboratory as though to assure himself that he was safe within these four walls. "'Well, from the surface of the sea,' he went on, "'there was a massive body, black and with the appearance of wet leather. "'Must have been a couple of hundred yards across, "'although the size of objects is often magnified by moonlight, "'and my terror may have added to its side.

In the midst of it were two grey discs, thirty feet across, which glowed red with a reflected moonlight, and stared for a moment and then rose higher until it towered above the ship. And then I saw, I thought I saw, that huge gaping beak. It was as greener described it, large enough to bide the Arithusor and a half, and she was a ship of 3,000 tons. I was frozen with horror and couldn't move or cry out. As I watched, I saw the long snake-like body emerge from the water. On that estimate I'd made of the size in the afternoon seemed pitifully inadequate. Then a second and a third snake arose from the water, and then more,

until the whole sea and the air above it seemed like a writhing mass of huge snakes. I remember wondering why the watch of the Coast Guard cutter didn't sound an alarm. Then I realized that the thing had arisen on our port side, and the cutter was on the starboard. The massive snakes writhed backward and forward, and then two of them rose in the air and hung over the ship. I could see the underside, and I saw what green had called the scars where the sharks had attacked. They were great cup-shaped depressions with vile white edges, and they did resemble huge saws or ulcers. They waved over the ship for an instant, and both of them were. dropped down on the deck.

I suddenly found my voice. I think I gave a yell, but even as I open my mouth, I realized the futility of it. The Arithusa was sucked down into the sea as though it had been a tiny chip. I saw the water rising to the rail, and I think I cried out again. The ship tilted, and I felt myself falling. Well, the next thing I knew was when I was in the hospital, and I was told that I'd been raving mad for a week. I was afraid to tell my story for fear I'd be put in an asylum,

so I bit my tongue until I was discharged. Dr. Bird mused for a moment, as the seaman's voice quivered. Oh, you cried out, all right, Mr. Mitchell, he said. You gave two distinct shouts, both of which were heard by the watch of the Wren, the Coast Guard cutter. They reported that at 1.30 a.m., the Arathusus sank without warning. As soon as he heard your shouts, the watch gave the alarm, the crew piled on deck. The Arithusa was gone completely, and the Rann was tossing about like a chip in a whirlpool, as they graphically described it.

The Rann then moved full power as they fought the waves and sailed over to your anchoring ground looking for survivors. But they found none. The sea gradually subsided, and they did the only thing they could do, dropped a boy to guide the salvage. people and radioed for assistance. The robbing came out and joined them, and both cutters stood by until daylight, but nothing unusual was seen. Well, the insurance people are trying to salvage the wreck now, but so far they've made very little headway. Well, that brings me to the rest of the story, the part that made me decide to come to you, doctor, said the seaman. Did you, um, see what happened to the divers yesterday?

Dr. Bird nodded. I saw a brief account of it, he said. Seems that two of them were lost through their lines getting fouled and their air connections being severed in some way. I don't believe the bodies have been recovered yet. They will never be recovered, doctor. I was discharged from the hospital yesterday, and the papers were just out with an account of it.

Went down to the dock where the John McLean, the salvage ship, ties up. I talked to Captain Starlight. who commands it. Well, I've known him casually for some years, although just an acquaintance, and he gave me a few more details that the press hadn't got. Well, he didn't connect me at first with the Mitchell who was reported lost on the Arithusa. Well, the first man to go down from the McLean

was Charlie Melrose, an expert diver. He went down a pressure outfit to the bottom and started to work. Everything was going along fine until the telephone suddenly rang and the man who answered it heard him. him say, raise me, for God's sake, hurry. The signal for raising was given, but they hadn't got him more than 30 feet from the bottom before they came a tug on the line, and he was gone. The airline, the lifting cable, and the telephone cord floated free and were reeled in.

Melrose had been plucked off the end of that line, as your eye would pluck off a grape. Dr. Bird leaned forward with the curious glitter again in his eye. "'Go on,' he said, Tersely. "'Oh, Blake, the other diver, "'quickly donned a suit and insisted on being lowered at once. "'Starley tried to dissuade him, "'but he insisted on going down. "'They lowered him over the side

"'with a twelve-foot steel-shot pike in his hand. "'But he never got to the bottom. "'He'd not been lowered more than a hundred feet "'when a scream came over the phone, "'and again there was a jerk on the lines "'which threatened to wreck the reel. and the line came aboard with no diver on the end of it. At the same time, Starly told me,

the sea boiled and churned as though the whole bottom were coming up, and his ship was tossed about as though it were in a violent storm, even though it was calm enough for forty-fathom salvage work, and that's pretty quiet, you know. Well, half the time his screws were out of the water, and he had a hard time to keep from being capsized. Well, he fought his way out of the disturbed area, and as soon as he did, it started to quiet down.

Then, in ten minutes, it was all calm again. Starly was pretty badly shaken, and besides, he'd lost both of his divers, so he came in and I saw him at the dark. When I heard his yarn, I took him into my confidence and told him what I'd seen, and that I proposed coming to you and asking your advice. Well, I was afraid,

until I heard his story that it was merely a vision that I'd have. but it was certainly no vision that plucked those two divers off their lines as captain Starley told that story to anyone else yet no doctor he hasn't he promised not to talk until after I'd seen you I'll vouch for him he'll keep his word through anything and he's keeping his whole crew on board until he hears from me that dr. Byrd sprang to his feet oh mr Mitchell he said energetically you have shown excellent judgment message Captain Starly, that you've seen me, and used to hold his crew on board and talk to no one until I get there.

Carnes, telephoned the chief of naval operations, and ask him to receive me in conference at once. Having kept the secretary of the Navy, and too, if he's available. And when you finish that, phone Bolton to let him know that you'll be away from Washington indefinitely. Oh, phone Admiral Buck for you, Doctor. But I don't dare phone any such message to Bolton. And he's been running the whole service ragged lately, and this is my first afternoon. off duty in a fortnight.

Um, what's the trouble? Flooded new counterfeits. Nah, the counterfeit division's getting along all right. In fact, they've lent us a dozen men. The trouble is a sudden big increase in communist activity throughout the country. They have the young Labor Party behind it. Yeah, Balton's been pretty jumpy since that's Tukowski affair last August. He's afraid another attempt of some sort on the president.

Hmm, the Young Labor Party. I thought that gang was bankrupt and out of business since the Coast Guard broke up their alien smuggling scheme. They were down and out for a while, but they're in funds again. And how? They must have three or four hundred million at least. Where'd they get it? That's why we've been trying to find out. The leaders have presented bars of gold to a dozen banks throughout the country and demanded cash in advance.

The banks shipped the gold to the mint. It was good gold. 925 fine. What we're trying to find out is how that gold got into the United States. Well, a shipment of that size should be easy to trace. That seems so, but it hasn't been. We've accounted for every pound of every shipment that's come in through a port of entry. And we've checked almost that close on every output of every mine in the United States.

If that gold came in from Russia, it'd have to go across Europe. We can't get any trace of it from abroad. It looks as though they were making it. Dr. Bird rubbed his head thoughtfully. Oh, possible, but hardly probable, he said. How much do you say they had? Over 300 million in 30-pound bars. Each bar shows signs of having a mint mark chiseled off,

but that doesn't help much, for they've done too good a job. It pretty much has us confused. Again, Dr. Bird rubbed his head. "'Hmphoon Admiral Buck, then phone Bolton, "'tell him exactly what I told you, "'that you will be away indefinitely. "'When he gets through exploding, "'tell him you going with me,

"'and that possibly, just barely possibly, "'we might be on the trail of that gold shipment.' "'On the trail of the gold?' gasped Kahn's. "'Surely, Doctor, you don't think.' "'Once in a while I do, my old friend,' replied the doctor with a chuckle, which is more than anyone in the secret service does. Oh, and you can tell, Baldwin, I said that, but hang up quickly if you do. I don't want the wires of my phone melded off.

No, Curransey, I have no miraculous inspiration as to where that gold's coming from. I just have a plain, old-fashioned hunch. That hunch is that we're going to have lots of fun, and more than I fair share of danger, before we see Washington again. Now, after you get through with a bull, we're going to be a bunch of the hunch. Bolton, you might want to call the chief of the air corps, ask him to have a bomber held at Langley Field, subject to my orders. Well, if he squawks any, I'll talk to him. He then turned to the phone which laid on his desk and pressed dial.

Get Mr. Lambertson, he said. He's the chief technician of the Pirate's Glassworks at Corner in New Jersey. Part two. The USS Miner Conson sailed out of New York Harbor and headed down toward the lower bay. On a forward deck rested a huge globe. The bottom quarter of the spear was made of some sort of dark opaque substance, but the upper portion was transparent as crystal. Through the walls could be seen a quantity of apparatus resting on the opaque bottom portion. Two mechanics from the Bureau of Standards were making final adjustments to one of the pieces of the apparatus, which resembled a tank fitted with a piston geared to an electric motor. From the tank, tubes ran to four hollow pipes, each an inch and a half in diameter, which ran through the skin and extended

30 inches from the outer skin of the 20-foot sphere. Dr. Byrd stood near, talking with the executive officer of the ship, and from time to time, giving a brief word of direction to the mechanics. "'Ah, it's safer than you might think, Commander,' he said. In the first place, that globe was not made of ordinary glass. It's made of vitroline, a new semi-malleable glass which was developed at the Bureau, and which has been made on an experimental scale for us by the Pyrex people. It's much stronger than ordinary glass, and it's not sensitive to shock. It's also perfectly transparent to ultraviolet lines, being superior even to rock crystal or fused quartz in that respect. Now, the walls, as you've noticed, are four inches thick, and I've calculated that the ball

will stand a uniform external pressure of 3500 atmospheres, the pressure which will be encountered at a depth of about 20 miles. I believe the little stand squeezes 6,000 tons without buckling, and it's impossible to fracture by shot. It could be dropped from the top of the Empire State Building, and it just bounced. That seems incredible that it could stand such a pressure as you've named.

Oh, my figures are conservative ones. Lambson calculated them even higher, but we allowed for the fact that this is the first large mass of the material to be cast. and we lowered him a bit. But suppose your lifting cable should break, objected the naval officer. The outfit weighs a good many tons. You notice that the lower quarter is made of lead.

The specific gravity of the entire globe, when sealed uptight with two men in it, is only a little more than unity. In the water, it's wet is so little that a three-inch manila hawser could raise it, let alone a steel cable. I have another safety device, though. and in case that cable should snap, I detach the lead from it, and it would shoot to the surface like a rocket.

Hmm, so how long can you remain underwater in it? A week, if necessary. I have an oxygen tank and a carbon dioxide removing apparatus, which will keep the air in good condition. The globe is electrically lighted, and can be heated if necessary. If my phone doesn't work, I have a radio set which will enable me to communicate with you. I can't see that it's especially dangerous, not nearly as much as a submarine. And, um, what is your objective in going down there, if I may ask? Well, to take pictures and to explore the wreck if we can.

The globe is equipped with huge floodlights and excellent cameras. The savage people are having a little trouble, and we're just trying to help them out. Hmm, you mentioned exploring. Can you leave the globe while it's underwater? Yeah, as a docking is difficult. advice for doing so. A man in a diving suit could enter the lock and fiddle it with water. Once the external pressure is released, you can open the outer door and step out. Coming back, he seals the outer door, and the man inside blows out the lock and the compressed air, and then the inner door can be opened. It's the same principle as a torpedo tube. A jangle of

bells then interrupted them, and the minute constant slowed down. Commander Lawrence stepped to the rail and gave a sharp order to the navigating officer on the bridge. The bells jangled again, and the ship's engine stopped. Well, we're almost over the boy, Doctor, he said. Dr. Bert nodded and spoke to the two mechanics. Then with a few final touches to the apparatus, they emerged from the globe, and Dr. Bird entered. Come on, Karins, he called. No backing out of the last minute. Kahn stepped forward with a sickly smile and joined the doctor in the huge sphere.

All right, boys, close her up. Mechanics swung the outer door into place with a crane. Both the edge of the door and the surface against which it fitted had been ground flat and were in addition faced with soft rubber. Bults were fastened in the door which passed through holes in the main sphere, and Dr. Bird spun nuts onto them and tightened them with a heavy wrench. He and Carnes lifted the smaller inner door into place and bolted it tight. Bird then stepped to the phone.

Lower away, he directed. From a boom attached to the Minisconsian's forward fighting top, a huge steel cable swung down, and the latch at the end of the cable was closed over a vitrolean ring, which was fastened to the top of the sphere. The cable tightened, and the globe, with the two men in it, was lifted over the side of the battleship, and lowered gently into the water.

Karnes involuntarily ducked and threw up his hand as the water closed over them. And Dr. Byrd laughed. Hey, look up, Karns, he said. Karns gasped as he looked up and saw the surface of the water above him. Dr. Bird laughed again and turned to his phone. Lower away, he said. Everything is tight. The globe descended into the depths of the sea.

Darker and darker it grew until only a faint twilight glow filled the sphere. A dark bulk loomed before them. Dr. Byrd snapped on one of his huge floodlights and pointed. "'Avey, uh, Arithusa,' he said. The all-fated vessel lay on aside with a huge jagged hole torn in her midship. "'That's where the boilers burst,' explained the doctor. "'Luckily, we have a hard bottom to deal with. Right, let's see if we can long.

any of Mitchell's sea serpents. He turned on other floodlights and swept the bottom of the sea with them. The huge beams board out into the water for a quarter of a mile, but nothing unusual was to be seen. Dr. Bird turned his attention again to the wreck. Ah, things look normal from this side, he said after a prolonged scrutiny. I'll have the miniscan since sail around it while we look it all over. In response to his phone orders,

the ship above them swung around the wreck in a circle, and Kahn's and the doctor viewed each side in turn. But nothing of a suspicious nature made its appearance. The sphere stopped outside the hole in the side, and Dr. Bird turned to Kans. Right, I'm going to put on a diving suit and explore that wreck, he said. If there ever was any danger, it isn't apparent now, and I can't find out anything until I get inside.

Don't... "'Don't do it, Doctor,' cried Carnes. "'You remember what happened to the other divers?' "'We don't know what happened to them, Carnes. "'No matter what it was, there's no danger apparent right now. "'I've got again to that ship before I can get any real information. "'We could have lowered an under-seat camera "'and learned just as much as we have so far.

"'Well, let me go instead of you, doctor.' "'Well, I'm sorry to refuse you, my friend, "'but, frankly, I wouldn't just your judgment as to what you'd seen if you went alone, and we can't both go. Why not? If we both went, who'd work the air to let us back in?

No, this is a one-man, Jarbon. I'm the one to do it. While I'm gone, keep a sharp lookout. If you see anything unusual, call me at once. How can I call you? Here, on this small radio phone, a set of receivers tuned to the right wavelength are in my diving helmets.

I'll be able to hear you, although I can't reply. No, it won't be gone long. I only have a small air tank, large enough to keep me going for about 30 minutes. Now help me into my suit and keep a sharp watch. Oh, and a timely warning may save my life if anything happens. With Kahn's assistance,

Dr. Bird donned a deep-sea diving outfit and screwed down the helmet. He crawled through the inner door into the lock and lifted the inner door into place. Karns fastened the door with nuts, and the doctor opened a pair of valves in the outer door and filled the lock with water. He then removed the outer door ant, taking in one hand a steel-shod 12-foot pike with a hook on the end, and in the other a waterproof flashlight.

He moved forward. As he left the shell, he paused for a moment, and then returned and picked up the heavy wrench, with which he'd removed the nuts holding the outer door into place. He fastened the tool to the belt of his suit, and then, with a wave of his hand toward the detective, he approached the hole. The hole in the side was too high for him to reach, but he hooked the end of his spike in one of the joints of the Erathus's plates

and climbed slowly and painfully up the side of the vessel. As he disappeared into the hull, Karns realised, with a sudden start, that he'd been watching his friend and neglecting the duty imposed on him of keeping a sharp watch. He turned quickly to the floodlights, searched the sea bottom. Nothing appeared, and the minutes moved as slowly as hours should. Karns felt that he'd been submerged alone for weeks, and his nerves grew so tense that he felt that he'd scream in another instant. A sudden thought soared him like a dash of cold water. If he screamed, Dr. Bird would think it was an alarm signal, and possibly be afraid to emerge from

the vessel. His watch showed him that the doctor had been gone for 25 minutes now, and so he moved slowly to the radio transmitter. Dr. Bird, he said slowly and distinctly. You've been gone, nearly 30 minutes. Nothing alarming has appeared, but I'll feel better when I see you coming back. He glued his eyes on the opening in the ship's side and waited. Five minutes passed, then ten, with no signs of the doctor. Kahn's again moved to the receiver.

It's been over half an hour, doctor, he cried. in a pleading voice. If you're all right, for God's sake, sure yourself, I'm in a frantic with worry. Another five minutes passed, and the sweat dripped in a steady stream from the detective's chin. Suddenly he gave a sob of relief

and sank back against the side of the globe. A bulky figure showed at the edge of the hole, and Dr. Berg climbed slowly and heavily out of the hold and dropped to the sea bottom. He lay prone for a moment before he rose and made his way with evident effort toward the sphere. He entered the compartment,

and, with a heroic effort, lifted the outer door into place, and feebly, and with fumbling fingers, placed nuts on the bulbs. His hands wandered uncertainly toward the valves, and closed the upper one. He waved his hand toward Kans

and sank in a heap on the floor of the lock. With trembling hands, Kans connected the air and opened the valve. Air flowed into the lock and the water was gradually forced out. When the lock was empty, he waited for Dr. Bird to close the outer valve, but the doctor didn't move. Kahn's tore at the bolts, which held the inner door and threw his weight against it. It held against his moves, and he thought frantically.

Then inspiration came, and he disconnected the air valve. With a whistling rush, the air from the lock rushed into the sphere, and he forced open the inner door. A stream of seawater drove against his feet through the open front. valve, and he reached the valve to close it. The force of the water held it open for a moment, but he threw every ounce of his strength into the effort, and slowly the valve closed. It was beyond his strength to haul the heavy doctor with his pressure diving suit through the restricted confines of the inner door, so Kans wormed his way into the lock, and with trembling fingers unscrewed the helmet of the doctor's diving suit. The helmet clang to the floor, and Kahn scooped up

his hands full of water and dashed it into the doctor's face. There was no response, and now he was panicking. He sprang for the radio to order the sphere hauled up when his glance fell on the oxygen tank. It took him only a moment to connect a rubber hose to the tank,

and in a few seconds a blast of the life-giving gas was blowing into the scientist's face. Dr. Bird gave a convulsive gasp or two and opened his eyes. Kahn shut off the oxygen and Dr. Burt struggled to a sitting position and inhaled deep breaths. That was close, my friend, he said faintly.

Give me a hand, and I'll climb in. With the detectives aid, he climbed into the sphere and Kans fastened the inner door. Slowly the doctor got out of the diving suit and lay prone on the floor, his breath still coming and gasps. Hey, uh, thanks for your warning about the time. "'Time, Carnes,' he said.

"'I knew that my air supply was running shore, "'but I was caught down there "'couldn't readily free myself. "'I thought for a while that my time had come. "'But, well, I guess not. "'By the looks of things I freed myself "'just in time.' "'Well, did you find out anything?'

"'asked the detective eagerly. "'I did,' replied Dr. Bird, grimly. "'For one thing, the gold is no longer "'in the hold of the Arathusa.' "'It's gone?' clean as a whistle every bar of it the hole had been cut in the vault around the combination the bars slipped back and the door opened the gold has been stolen could it not have been stolen before the vessel sank the idea of that occurred to me of course i examine things pretty carefully now i know that the theft occurred after the vessel sank wait how could you tell for one thing the hole was cut with an unlawfulful underwater cutting torch, and for seconds, well, look here.

The doctor rode up his trousers and showed the detective his leg. Cars cried out as he saw huge purple welts on it. God, what caused that? he cried. As I ended the vault, I stepped full into a steel bear trap, which was set there for the purpose of catching and hoarding anyone who entered. Someone has visited the Arithusa since she sank, looted her, and also arrested. so that any diver who got as far as the vote would never return to the surface to tell of it. Luckily for me, I carried a heavy wrench and was able to free myself.

I guess most divers don't carry such a thing. But, I mean, who could have done it? Well, that's what we've got to find out. We're not going to do it down here. Right, give the word to have us hauled up. And, Carnes, don't mention anything about the looting of the vessel. Make sure it's understood that I couldn't get into the... the hold. We'll head back for New York at once. I want to have a few small changes made in this

sphere before we use it again. While I'm doing that, I want you to get hold of the Coast Guard or the Immigration Service or whoever it is that has the complete records in that case of alien smuggling, you know, by the Young Labor Party. When you get that information, report to me and we'll go over it. You might also drop a hint to Captain Starley that will stop all further attempts at salvage operations for a few days. Tell them all range to have a Coast Guard boat guard the locality of the wreck. Well, I mean, won't that be rather risky for the cutter? I think not.

The gold's gone, and there's no reason to apprehend any further danger in that locality. Well, at least for the present. Part 3. At 9 o'clock the next morning, Kans and Dr. Byrd sat in the office of Lieutenant Commander Minden of the United States Coast Guard, listening intently to the history of the alien smuggling case. Commander Minton spoke. Their boats would load up

and clear ostensibly for Rio de Janeiro or some of the South American part. But once they were in the Atlantic, they'd alter their course and head for the Massachusetts coast. Of course, we had no right to interfere with them on the high seas, and they never came closer than 50 miles to our coastline.

When they got that close, they'd cruise slowly back and forth for a few days, and then sail away south to the port that they cleared for. When they got there, of course, there were no passengers on board. We patrolled the coast carefully while they were around, but we never got any indication of any landing of aliens, and yet we knew they were being landed in some way. We drew lines so close that a cork wouldn't get by without being seen. We even had the air patrolled, but, well, with no results. Eventually, the air patrol was the thing that gave them away, though. They'd been operating.

so successfully that they evidently got careless and started a load off late in the night, so they didn't reach the coast by dawn. A Navy plane was flying across the coastland about 12 miles off, when they spotted a submarine running parallel with the coast, headed north. It didn't look like an American craft, and they went on and radioed Washington, and found that we had no one to see craft in that neighborhood. They returned to their patrol, followed the sub for a matter of 30 or 40 miles of the coast.

then it turned in right toward the shore. The shoreline there was rocky, and at the point where the sub was heading, it fell sheer about 200 fathoms. The sub ran right at the cliff and disappeared from view. Lieutenant Commander Minden paused impressively. Gans and Dr. Bird sat forward in their chairs, for it was evident that the crux of the story was at hand.

When the plane reported what they'd seen, we knew how those aliens were being landed. The point where the sub went in gave us a good idea of the location of their base, and we threw a cordon of man around and searched. A Navy sub was sent to the scene, and they reported that there was a tunnel opening into the rock, about a hundred fathoms under water, running for, well, they had no idea how far under the land. We stayed to guard the hole while we combed the land. It took us a week to locate the place, but we traced some truckloads of food and finally found it. This tunnel ran under the land for a mile and then ended in a large cave underground.

The young Labour Party had established a regular receiving depot there and took the aliens from the sub and kept them there for a day or two till they had a chance to load him into trucks and run them into Boston or some other town in the night. Once we had the place spotted, we sent a gang in and captured the whole works without any trouble. The underground cavern had no natural opening to the surface, but they had one made by blasting.

We captured the whole lot and then sealed the end of the hole with rock and concrete. And that was the end of that affair. Well, thank you, Commander. You've given us a very graphic description of it. I suppose you could find the entrance which was sealed up. Ah, easily. I led the raiding party. Oh, I forgot to mention one blunder we made, though.

Evidently some word of our plans leaped out. For the side which was guarding the outer end of the tunnel was called away by a radio message. supposed to be from the Navy Department. Got only a short distance, though, when the commander smelled a rat and made his way back. Well, he was too late. He was just in time to see the sub emerge from the hole and head into the open sea.

He gave chase, but the other sub was faster than the Navy boat and got clear away. The leader of the gang must have been on it, because we didn't get him. Who was the leader? Oh, from some records we captured. We saw his name was Ivan Sarenov. Well, I never saw him, though.

Sarenov, said Dr. Bird thoughtfully. The name seems familiar. Where have I? Oh, God damn, I know now. He was at one time a member of the faculty of St. Petersburg. He was one of the leading biologists of his time. Carnes, we found our man. If you're thinking of Sarenov, I'm afraid.

"'made you mistaken, Doctor,' said Commander Minden. "'Either he nor his submarine have ever been heard of since. "'It's generally being conceded that they were lost at sea. "'We had some pretty rough weather just after that affair.' "'Well, rough weather doesn't mean that much to a sub, commander. "'I expect that he is our man. "'Well, at any rate, the place we want to go is the end of that tunnel. "'Well, match your service, doctor.'

"'Carrants get the location of that tunnel entrance from Commander Minden, or to the Minner-Conson to proceed north along the coast of that vicinity, stand by for radio orders. I'm going to phone Mitchell Field and get a plane. We have no time to lose. The plane from Mitchell Field roared down to a landing, and Kans, Dr. Byrd and Commander Minden dismounted from the rear cockpit and looked around. They'd landed in a smooth field at the base of a rise, almost rugged enough to be called a mountain.

A group of three men were standing near them as they got out of the ground. the plane. One of the men approached. Dr. Bird, asked the newcomer. I'm Tom Haren, United States Marshal. These two men are deputies. Now, I understand that I'm to report to you for orders. Glad to admit you, Mr. Haren.

This is Operative Kahn's of the Secret Service, and Commander Minden of the Coast Guard. We're going to explore an underground cavern that's located in this vicinity. You mean the one where they used to smuggle aliens? That's closed up. I mean, I was in charge of that work and we closed it tied as a drum two years ago. Can you find the entrance? Sure. It's not even a mile from here. I'll lead the way then. We want to take a look at it.

The marshal led the way and took a path which led to a gully in its side. He paused for a moment to take his bearings and then turned sharply to his left and climb part of the way up the side of the ravine. Oh, here it is, he announced. An expression of astonishment crossed his face, and he examined the ground closely. Oh, geez, Doc. He went on as he straightened up. This place has been open since I left it. Dr. Bird hurried forward and joined him.

The heavy stone and concrete with which the entrance to the cavern had been sealed were undisturbed, but in the side of the hill was a set of steel doors beside the concrete. There was no sign of a keyhole or other means of entering it. "'Was this steel door part of your work?' asked Hans. "'No, sir, it wasn't. We sealed it solid. "'That door has been put there since.' "'Dr. Burke closely examined the structure. "'He tapped it and went round the edges,

"'and then straightened up and took a small pocket compass "'from his pocket and opened the case. "'The needle swung crazily for a moment, "'it then pointed straight toward the door. "'Hm, a magnetic lock,' he exclaimed. "'If we could find the power line, It'd be easy to force it, but finding that line might take us ages. At any rate, we found out what we were after.

This is their base from which they're operating. Mr. Heron, one of you to station a guard armed with rifles at this door. Day and night, until I personally relieve you. Remember, until I relieve you, be here in person. Verbal or written orders don't go. Capture or kill anyone who tries to enter or leave this cavern through this entrance. Just now, we'll find that cavern more vulnerable from the sea end, and that's where I mean to attack. We'll force that door and explore the incend later.

Commander Minden, you can stay here with Mr. Haren if you like, or you can come with Karnsen me. We're going on board the Minne Kanssen. The Mitchell Field plane roared to a take-off and bore south along the coast. Half an hour of flying brought them in view of the battleship, sailing at full speed up the coast. Dr. Bird radioed instructions to the ship, and an hour later a launch picked them up from the beach and took them out. As soon as they were on board, they resumed their progress, and in two hours the peak that Dr. Bird had marked as a landmark was opposite. Right, sailing as close to the shore as you can safely, he said, and then lower us down.

Once we're down, you'll be guided by our telephoned instructions. Come on, Carnes, let's go. The detective followed him into the sphere of the minisconson hedged up toward the shore. The huge bore was lifted from the deck and lowered gently into the 200 fathoms of water. It was pitch dark at that depth, and Dr. Bird switched on one floodlight and studied the cliff which rose 100 yards beneath them. We've missed the place, Corrance, he said, we'll have them pull us up a few hundred feet and then sail along the coast. He turned to his phone, and the sphere rose, while the battleship sailed slowly ahead, the vitreliam ball following in her wake.

For a quarter of a mile they continued on their way, and then Dr. Bird halted the ship. What depth are we? he asked. Eiddy fathoms? All right, lower us, please. The ball sank until it rested on the sea bottom, and Dr. Bird turned on two additional floodlights and studied the surroundings. The bed of the ocean was literally covered with lobster and crab-shell, with the bones of fish scattered here and there among them. A few bones of land animals were mixed with the debris, and Kans gave a gasp, his Dr. Bird pointed out to him a diving helmet.

Well, we're on the right track, said the scientist grimly. He stepped to the phone, and ordered the sphere raised to 100 fathoms. The ship moved forward along the coast until Dr. Bird again stepped to the, the phone and halted it. Before them, you're on the entrance to the underground tunnel. It was big, about 200 feet high and 300 across, and their most powerful beams would not penetrate to the end of it. A pile of debris could be seen on the floor of the tunnel, and Kanz was sure he could see another diving helmets among the litter. Dr. Bird pointed toward the side of the cavern. See those floodlights fastened to the cliff, so that their beams will sweep across the mouth of the

tunnel when they're lit, he said. Apparently the cave is used as a prison and the light beams of the bars. The creature's not at home just now, or the bars will be up. My God, look at that, Carnes. Kahn stared and echoed the doctor's cry of surprise. Gling into a shelf of rock, which extended out from the wall of the cavern and half hidden among the seaweed, was a huge marine creature. It looked like a huge black slug with rudimentary eyes and mouth. The thing was fifty feet in length and fully fifteen feet in diameter. It hung there, moving sluggishly as though breathing, and rudimentary tentacles were projecting from one end, moving in the water. What is it, Doctor? asked Kans in a voice of awe. It's a typical trachosphere of the giant

octopus, the devil fish of the Indian ocean. Multiplied a thousand times, though, he replied. When the octopus lays its eggs, they hatch out into the larval form. The free swimming larvae is known as the trocosphere. I'm positive that that's what we see here. But God, look at the size of the thing. Well, if that ever developed, I can't even imagine its dimensions. I've seen pictures of a huge octopus pulling down.

down a ship, said Kans, but I always thought they were imaginary. Well, they are. This monstrosity before us is no product of nature. A dozen of them would depopulate the seas in a year. God, it's a hideous parody of nature conceived in the brain of a madman and produced by some glandular disturbance. Oh, Sarenov. He spent years in glandular experimentation, and no doubt he's managed to stimulate the thyroid of a normal octopus and produce a giant. I think that the immediate parent of this thing before us was of normal size, and so probably are its brothers and sisters. The phenomenon of gigantism of this nature only occurs in alternate generations, and then only in rare instances.

His grandparent may not be far away, though. I wish it was safe to use a submarine to explore that cabin. Why isn't it? Any creature powerful enough to pull the Arithusa underwater, but crush a fire for a frail submarine without effort. Anyway, Navy Sub isn't built for underwater exploration like this ball is. The window space is quite limited, and they're not equipped with powerful floodlights. I'd like to be able to reach that thing and destroy it, but that can wait till later. The best thing we can do is put out our lights and wait.

His hand sought the light switch, and the globe became dark. Only a tiny glimmer of light came down to them from the surface, a hundred-farmes. abhams above. In the darkness, they stared into the depths of the sea, but four. For an hour they waited, and then Dr. Berg grasped Karns by the shoulder and pointed. Far in the distance could be seen a tiny point of light. It wavoured and winked and at times disappeared, but it was gradually approaching them. Dr. Bird stepped to the telephone, and the Miner Conson moved a hundred yards further from the shore. The light disappeared again as though hidden by some opaque body. Their eyes had become accustomed to the dim light, and they could dimly see a long snake-like body

approach the globe, and then suddenly withdraw. The light appeared again only a few hundred yards away now. The water swirled and the sphere swayed drunkenly as some gigantic body moved past it, with express train speed, and entered the mouth of the cavern. The light turned toward them, and they could see the dim outlines of a small submarine on which it was mounted. Another rush of water came as the object which had entered the cave, started to leave it, and the light swung around. It bore on a huge black body and was reflected with a red glow from huge eyes, and the creature backed again into the cave. Back and forth across the mouth of the cavern the light played, and the watchers caught a glimpse of a huge beak, which could have england. gulfed a freight car.

From the cavern projected twisting tentacles of gargantuan dimensions and red eyes, 30 feet in diameter, glared balefully at them. For several minutes the light of the submarine played across the mouth of the cave, and then the floodlights on the cliff sprang into full glow and bathed the ball and the mouth of the tunnel in a flood of light. Before their horrified gaze was an octopus of a suburb of a sea. size to make them disbelieve their eyes. The submarine had moved up to within a few feet of them, and the light from it played full on

the ball. The submarine manoeuvred in the vicinity, keeping the ball full in the beam of its light, and then drew back, and as it did so, the floodlights on the cliff died out, and the beam of the submarine's light was directed away from them. Dr. Bird jumped to his phone. Head straight out to sea, and full speed ahead, he shouted. "'Don't try to pull us in. To us.' The ball swayed as the Minniconson's mighty engines responded to his orders,

and the cliff wall disappeared from view. "'Well, as long as they know we're here, we might as well announce our presence in style,' said the doctor grimly, as he closed a switch and threw all of the spheres huge lights into action. He turned on the lights just in time, for even as he did so a mighty tentacle shot out of the darkness and wrapped itself around the ball. For a moment it clung there, and then was withdrawn.

The thing can't stand the light, remarked the doctor as he threw off the switch. That sub was hurting it like a cow by the use of a light beam. As long as we're lit up, we are safe from attack. For God's sake, then, turn on the lights, cried Kans. Oh, I wanted to attack us, replied the doctor. calmly. We have no offensive weapons, and only by meeting an attack can we harm the thing. As he spoke, there came a soft whisper of sound from the vitreline walls, and they were thrown from their feet by a sudden jerk. Dr. Bird stumbled to the switch and closed it, and the

ball was flooded with light. Two arms were now on them, but they were slowly withdrawn as the lights glared forth. The huge outlines of the beast could be seen as it followed them toward the surface. His great eyes glared at them hungrily. The submarine was visible only as a speck of light in the distance now. The Miniconsi's speed was picking up under the surge of her huge turbines, and the ball was nearing the surface. The sea light was enough now that they could see for quite a distance. The phone rang, and Dr. Bird replied. "'Hello,' he said. "'What's that? You can? Well, by all means fine.' Yeah, indeed, we're well out of danger.

It must be 30 or 40 feet down. Just watch the fun now. He continued to Kahn as he turned the phone off. Well, the beast is showing above the surface, and they're going to shell it. They watched the surface, and suddenly there came a flash of light, followed by a dull boom of sound. The huge octopus suddenly sank below them, thrashing its arms about wildly. "'Direct hit!' shouted Dr. Bird into the phone.

"'Get it again if it shows up. "'I want to get that thing good and mad.' He turned off the lights in the ball, and the octopus attacked again. The shell had taught it to be cautious, and it kept well down, but three huge arms came up from the depth of the sea and wrapped themselves around the ball once more. The forward motion stopped for a moment, and then came a jerk that threw them down,

and the ball started to sink. The cable has snapped, cried the doctor. Turn on the lights. Garns closed the switch. The ball was so covered with the huge tentacles that they couldn't see anything, but the light had its usual effect, and they were soon released.

The ball sank toward the bottom, and they could see the huge cephalopod lying below, watching them. Blood was flowing from a wound near one of its eyes, where the Minoconstine shell had found its mark. toward the huge monster they sank until they lay on the bottom of the ocean and only a few yards from it in an instant the sea became opaque and they couldn't see a thing he shot his ink cried the doctor here comes the real attack right brace yourself strap yourself to the wall so where you can reach one of the motor switches through the darkness huge arms came out and wrapped themselves around the ball again The heavy vitrillion groaned under the enormous pressure which was applied to it, but it held.

The ink was clearing slightly now, and they could see that the sphere was covered by the arms. The mass moved, and the huge more opened before them. Pipes projecting from the sides of the bull were buried into the creature's flesh. Oh, God damn, it's going to swallow us whole, gasped the doctor. Quick-arns, the motor switch. He closed one of them as he's. spoke, and the powerful little electric motors began to hum, forcing forward the piston attached

to the tank connected to the hollow rods. Steadily, the little motors hummed, and the tank emptied through the rods into the body of the giant cephalobot. God, I hope this stuff works fast, groaned the doctor, as they approached closer to the giant more. Well, I never try giving an octopus a hypodermic injection of prussic acid before, but not to do the business. God, there's enough acid there to kill half of New York City. Kahn's blanched as the ball approached the mouth.

One by one the arms unwound until only one was holding them, and the jaws opened wider. They were almost in them, when the motion stopped. They could feel a shudder run through the arm which was holding them. For a moment the arm alternately expanded and contracted, almost releasing them only to clutch them again. Another arm came from the depths and whipped about the ball, and again the vitrally groaned at the pressure which was applied. The arms were suddenly withdrawn, and the ball started to sink. Drop the lead, cards, cried the doctor. With the aid of the detective, he operated the electric catches which held the huge mass of lead to the bottom, and the sphere shot up

through the water like a rocket. It leapt clear of the water and fell back with a splash. Half a mile away, the Minniconcin was swinging in a wide circle to head back toward them, and they turned their gaze toward the shore. As they looked, a giant arm shot a hundred yards up into the air, twisting and writhing frantically. It disappeared, and then another, and then half a a dozen more flashed into the air. The arms dipped below the surface, and a huge black body reared its bulk free from the water for a moment, and the sea boiled as though in a violent storm. The body then sank again, and the arms were thrown up, twisting and turning like a half-dozen huge snakes. The whole creature sank below the waves, and the ball tossed back and forth,

often buried under tons of water, and once tossed 30 feet into the air by the huge waves. A momentary lull came in the waves. Cairns then gave a cry of astonishment and pointed to the shore. With some effort Dr. Bird twisted himself in his lashing and looked in that direction. The huge body had once again come to the surface and three of the arms were towering into the air. Grasped in them was a long, black cigar-shaped object. As they watched, the object was torn into two parts and the fragments crushed by the enormous power of the octopus. Again the arms writhed in torment, and then they stiffened out. For a moment they towered in the air, and then slowly sank below the surface of the sea. Oh, the cyanide has worked, cried the doctor, and in its last

agonies the creature has turned on its creator and destroyed him. Oh, it's a shame. Saranoff was a brilliant, although crazy genius, and besides, I would have liked to have learned his methods. Well, I may find something when we open the land end and raid the cave. Really, he was too brilliant a man to hang for murder. Once we open the cave and I get any data that's there, my connection with this case will end. Tracking down the gold and recovering it's a routine matter for Bolton, and one in which he won't need my help.

But what about that creature we saw in the cave doctor? Won't it hatch into another terror of the sea like the thing we just destroyed? The trachosphere? No, I'm not worried there. We won't try to leave the cave for some days yet. By that time, we'll have the land end open, and the floodlights turned on. Well, they'll keep it there, and it'll starve to death.

We could send down a sub to feed it a torpedo, but there's no need. Nature will dispose of it in its own way. Meanwhile, I hope the minute consin rigs up a jury tackle pretty soon and takes us on board. God, I'm getting seasick. well in the forest by crashing symbol we first set foot into this forest yesterday evening up to spending just over an hour and a half making our journey it was one of those evenings where the many jet trails amongst the twilight sky had blended into light orange and pink among the distant orange and black horizon that all camouflaged into an array of messy colors and patterns like a sunset

scene from a bachyapse now and as i sit here jotting down my final words on the back of some of josh's work related notes. I remember my expectations of Friday clearly, but I remember the horror of today even clearer. I write my story in the midst that one day someone with hope, with an idea, someone who's willing to fight against all the odds, will stumble upon my confession and read what I have to offer. Fifty-six minutes. The twins fully loaded four-by-four Mitsubishi Outlander struggled atop the pothole riddled road, which increased with decay the closer we approach the forest. Our gear, nourishment, and weekend livelihoods, jorted up and dropped back down at unexpected bumps, while it all consistently buzzed in the back of the Jeep beneath the noise of our excited, eager conversations.

The paint-job braved through brown puddles which splashed speckled brown mud against the black metallic paint, while the wheels that were accustomed to avenues and highways were pushed beyond their usual work rate due to quick-draw, squeaky braking for when a careless badger on an impatient fox that scabbled onto the road, unaware of our oncoming vehicle. David slowed the jeep to a halt, facing a large, locked, red rail, which segregated the pedestrian's forest trail

from the short section of introductory road, whose ditches acted as slanted parking spots for visitors. As expected, though, there was no one. else here, which was not surprising for the fact that this particular place had no significant marking or symbol on the map, was only really noticeable because it was the largest shade of forested area for at least a 50-mile radius. Isolation. No way I'm parking this here for the weekend, David said, gazing at the barrier as if it were

thorns on a red romantic rose. Josh turned to me and the two girls, sitting indifferently in the back seats. Andrew, could you get me the axe from the trunk man? Yeah, sure thing. I shifted my body around and grabbed the light brown wooden axe with the shining silver piece of crafted metal atop. The two girls, Lauren and Vanessa, turned their heads only really to survey our activity

as any structured conversation at this stage of the trip had broken down into one-line comments and off-topic small talk. Josh glanced around at his surroundings, fearing that some distant passerby would attempt the road, of the overly law-abiding citizen and interfere with his chain-breaking process. Here, there's nobody around. Go for it, Andrew shouted, semi-leaning out of the Jeep window, smiling at the end of his sentence. Josh smiled a little in response before turning back around to complete the task at hand. He poured the axe up just above his shoulder,

gripping it carefully with his two hands, and forced it down upon the lock. The impact clashed out tolerable clanging sound, but the lock didn't fall to the ground, much to our likely disappointment. Josh kneeled down to examine the damage of the impact. The locks made of brass, he called out to us,

should come off with a few more strikes. Josh struck the chain in the same manner once more, same result. And again, the locks split in half and toppled to the ground, clashing against the little pebbles with an extremely brief metallic

collision sound. We all cheered on Josh as he jokingly stretched the axe into the air with his two hands, pretending to lift a trophy. He quickly pushed aside the red barrier like a wheeling cart, walked back toward us, jumped into the front seat of the Jeep, and carelessly dropped the axe down between his legs like it was a flavourless chewing gum. The friction of the pebble riddle path assaulting the thick off-road tires only made the objects in the back shake again. After about 15 minutes, up to venturing through slowly darkening skies and quickly thickening forestry, which finally reached a dead end. Headlights, beaming down rows of unkempt trees,

and beautiful wasteland as far as the eye could see. We'll power the car here and camp a few metres away. How about that? Andrew directed as a general question to everyone. There was a moment of ambient, silent thinking, and quick examination of everyone's faces, before everyone collectively agreed that this idea should suit everyone. It only made sense to set up camp nearby the vehicle to prevent us going too far in and somehow inevitably getting lost.

So we all gathered an equal share of the tents, bags of food, and other miscellaneous necessities, and within an hour our polyester, nylon and canvas civilization was huddled in closely to a crackling orange fire beneath towering trees that expanded in alternating vision. We spent the majority of the night doing the typical camping thing amongst college students.

The night seemed to fly by as we roasted marshmallows while talking absolute crap and getting to that reasonable, enjoyable, mellow level of drunk before the last of us drifted away from consciousness at around 4 a.m. Just as dawn was revealing a dark slate, Cyan sky. I woke up later that morning at 11 a.m.

and stepped outside to beaming sun blaring through tree trunks and gray smoke plummeting from a pile of dead black ash, like a tiny cottage that had been laid to waste. Lauren was having what I assumed to be her first smoke of the day, sitting on a large, seven-foot-longish log, that we'd recklessly strewn between two tents after spotting it nearby at around 1 a.m. last night.

Vanessa and Josh is still asleep. David's probably off taking a walk or something somewhere. You know him, Lauren said in a husky voice, answering the question she knew was enveloping my mind. Hey, um, where are the others? I replied in a semi-sarcastic tone, eyebrows perking up momentarily. I'm then sat down beside her and we tucked into camping food for breakfast, an old combination of cornflakes and lukewarm bottled water. As I was nearly finished, Josh and Vanessa emerged from their tent,

looking stale and worn, sharing an inquisitive, peaked look on their faces, when they saw it was just the two of us outside. Yeah, either you seen my brother, he asked. Noah, when I woke up, he was gone, I replied. Lauren says he's gone for a walk. That's just what I assumed, she contributed. I'll give him a ring, will I? Lauren took her phone from her pocket,

looked at it for a few seconds, before letting her hands collapse to her knees and her eyes shut in defeat. Oh, shite, no signal. she said, frustrated. Let me try, I offered. I took my phone out of my pocket and saw there were no bars beside the little signal icon. I held my phone up into the air as if I was a selfless old man releasing an injured bird back into the wild

that I'd nurse back to full health and tried my best to keep my eyes on the signal bar, despite the bright rays of sunshine damaging my visibility. Hey, I got a bar, I said in a modestly victorious tone. I held the phone up to my ear, which felt refreshingly cool against my ears, which were red-hot because of the humidity of the tent, and the comfortable depths of my pillow. And at that moment, everyone looked up and around at each other, with a slower realisation of just how worrying that sound really was. I'd heard it, too.

Through the dial tones which echoed from the speaker and into my ear, I had also heard it. The sound of the standard iPhone ringtone penetrating through the camera, canvas of David's tent, made dull and centralised by the suffocation from his zipped-up, abandoned refuge. David was out there somewhere, lost in the middle of the woods, without his phone. I'll check the Jeep, Vanessa said shakily, shattering the tents silence. If only Davy had taken his phone with him. If he'd only been more cautious as to where he was venturing, if only Only he was obliged to tell one of us where he was going, what he was doing and why, rather than shy away from possible judgment and already perpetuated concern.

Sneaking off and acquiring personal space alone at a time when nobody could be quizzative of his motives for the simple reason that none of us were in any position to do so. Thinking about it now only kills me. The thought of it, guillotine's tiny, lean slices of brain slowly allows thick, broadening blood to leak out from my freshly chival. sharp wounds. Why the concerned idiots that we were scripted to be, though,

we exposed ourselves to his mistaken, unaware of the malevolent act unfolding, became tangled up in a mess of rushed choices and poorly thought our decisions. And now, all I can do is wait. I sit there riding with a pen that was pointing up in the cup holder like the

leaning tower of Pisa, on the back of Josh's worknotes, who is out lost in the dense forest, somewhere, and I wait for my inevitable death. I pray that a fate that I not only know so little about, but that I also don't have the energy to develop proper recognition of, is quick and merciful. The wounds thumped to the rhythm of my pulse, each beat sending a little rumbling shock to my brain, and swollen disgustingly like the throat of a croaking frog.

One hour and 35 minutes. We meandered by thorns and swept aside branches, which only flung back into their original position, as stubborn as a cop we stuck to your hand. The four of us looked around aimlessly with no real objective or any structured plan other than calling his name as loudly as we could any time we heard the rustle of a rodent or the snap of a twig. As you can guess at this stage, he wasn't in the Jeep. The further we travel from the campsite, funnily enough, the less dense the forest got, and the thick trunked evergreen trees which were planted among the vast hills of the area as part of a government forestation scheme, were gradually turning into scrawny deciduous trees which were turning golden and brown leaves in the early September weather.

We ruffled through rustling foliage and wet leaves cling to the bottom of my boots like a section of rug that lifts to the air by a vacuum before dropping to the floor again. We continue to call out Dave, Davy, David, in the hope that one of us would hear a distant response. But our sirens were only tangled up in echoing branches and dispersed different directions by muting mounting winds. After about 15 minutes of trudging in the forest eventually turning 99% deciduous,

both Lauren and Vanessa started hearing an extremely full, faint call for help in the distance. They follow their instinct from which direction the calling was coming from, and told us infantic, yet relieved voices, that the shouting had gotten a little louder. We followed the two girls, and seconds later Josh informed me that he could hear it too. About 30 seconds later, I started hearing distant shouting as well, which was definitely getting closer. We came to a bearish patch in the middle of the forest, where the trees surrounded a well in an oval shape, which poked out of the ground like the round bone in the middle of a stake. At this stage, the shouting was echoing very nearby, so the obvious precaution was to check the well.

We all rushed over and surrounded the cream-coloured well, with David's words hollering from within its depths. "'Davy!' I caught out to him. "'Andrew!' he shouted back immediately, as grateful as a rock climber taking their first bite to eat after a long hike. Thank fuck you're here, man. I thought I was a gunner. How long have you been down there? About an hour. Hey, you okay?

What happened, man? I went for a walk because I woke up earlier than everyone else. And then I got tired, sat down on this well. So I fell in by accident, but luckily my body got jammed a few times on the way down and broke my fault. Hey, um, you broken anything? No, nothing serious like that. There's a few nasty scratches on my back from when I was sliding down, and probably have a few bruises, but that's about it, really.

Great to hear, buddy, I said, trying to comfort him. I'm soaking, though. I need to get out of these damn clothes. Okay, okay, sit tight. We won't be much longer. I turn to the rest of the group with a half-wired face that extinguish their excited expressions. "'How are we going to get him out?' I asked. "'Maybe we should call emergency services?' "'Loren said with a scrunched up.

"'That's a bad suggestion, kind of face.' "'What?' "'And explain to them why we're trespassing in a secluded area. "'No.' "'They'll pause for a second before Josh's face lit up. "'Eye, I brought a rope-ladder with us,' he said, pointing to the air. "'Nice one,' Lauren exclaimed as we all smiled. "'Back in the Jeep, yeah?' I asked.

"'Well, yeah, unfortunately. "'But we know where he is now, "'so we won't be running around like headless chickens. "'Shouldn't be more than ten minutes.' "'Okay. "'You all coming then?' "'No, no,' Josh said to us, "'as he handed me the keys to his Jeep.

"'Three go, get the rope ladder, a few torches. "'I'll stay here with my brother, and keep him company. Okay, we won't be long, Vanessa said to Josh, as we ventured back through the forest as fast as we could to help rescue David. It was 15 minutes we spent going back to the Jeep, retrieving the items and then laughing and joking our way back

with the last joyful moments I had in my life. Lauren and I talked about returning to our college course later that month. Vanessa and I talked about our cheap trip to Amsterdam that summer, to which Lauren envied and then saw him. swore that she'd accompany us for our planned return next year. I missed them already. One thing that I've always detested the thought of in life was dying alone.

And here I am, cooped up inside this crab mess of camping gear, coffee mugs, and cigarette butts, watching the yellow-crusted bite wounds slowly swell. Keeping an eye on my wash to note how long it's taken me to die, I'll wipe away the condensation on the raindrop-covered window,

and look outside to the quickly withering flesh of Lauren. Her stomach is a red mass of blood and guts, blood washing away in the rain and permeating through the composted forest ground. I think back to her saying that she was drifting through a bright white light that engulfed her hole before the swollen stomach exploded and her frozen expression thumped dead onto the soaking log that we'd sat on earlier that day. I think about it.

suddenly I don't feel so lonely anymore. I look at my swollen arm, and I don't feel lonely. When I drift through a peaceful white light, I remember how long it took me to die, and I won't feel so lonely. Two hours and 22 minutes. The rope ladder was wound up into a brown cylinder like an unhollow rusty pipe that I pressed up against my chest.

Vanessa carried two of the flashlights in both of her hands, while Lauren carried one flashlight and some food for David. We navigated through the natural obstacles once more on what was pretty much the same exact route that we'd taken the first time around. We got back to the oval-shaped part of the forest again, where the well itself was, which I couldn't help but feel

resembled a street magician surrounded by a group of people. That thought quickly fled my mind when I instantly observed something perplexing and concerning. Josh was nowhere in sight. I froze in realization for a few seconds before the two girls started calling out his name and I rushed to the well and roared out for David

I listened out resolutely for even a peep of a response from someone or somewhere as the sound of the girls calling out for Josh that had been pushed to the back of my mind now increased in volume and disparity no response David Josh Davy Josh I roared in quick succession

"'Where the fuck could he be?' "'Venessa asked and staggered around, vexed. "'I turned around to see the two girls. "'I don't know. "'Maybe someone or some animal chased him,' I suggested. "'We need to find him,' Lauren demanded. "'Look, Josh is probably somewhere out in the woods, "'but we need to get David and get him out from the well now.

"'You could be unconscious now for all we know. "'Look, he's not responding to my calls.' Well, I'll try calling him. Vanessa took out her phone before stomping her foot in frustration. No fucking signal, she spout as if it were all technology's fault. Lauren and I followed suits, and we all held up our phones into the air, keeping what I focused on the signal bars. Against my wishes, though, and after a long, harsh, silent minute,

my hopes remained obsolete. I got nothing, I finally confirmed. "'Me neither,' Lauren said. "'Nothing,' Vanessa complied. "'Right. "'Fuck it. Lauren, hold this and release it down the well. "'I said as I handed her the ladder. "'I'll go grab that nearby rock.'

"'Lorin held the first bar of the rope ladder "'and unravelled it down to the vanishing pits of the mystifying well. "'I heave the heavy grey rock up from the ground it sank into "'and stagged it over to keep control of the ladder. With a ladder now in place, I voluntarily, yet hesitantly, climbed down to the unknown labyrinth beneath. I carried a flashlight in my mouth like Mother Wolf transporting her beloved pup, and descended into the engulfing labyrinth beneath. I flaked the flashlight on about halfway through my descent, as all light had evaporated from the well, making my task now twice as challenging. Never good at multitasking. I struggle my way down with one hand.

on the ladder and the other on the flashlight, while having to keep an eye on my current position and having to look out for the last step. The bottom of the ladder dangled a few feet above the ground, like a dream catcher hanging from the ceiling, rotating liberally. The flashlight lit up the bottom below me, shaped like the bottom of a chemistry flask. I just journeyed through the tube. I dropped down a few feet, the thick soles of my boots, cushioning my drop, and generating an echoing splatter sound. I'm down, I shouted out to them. I'll shine my flashlight up to see you when you're climbing down.

Don't want to risk falling just because you're climbing with one hand. I couldn't see too clearly from this distance, without my glasses or contact lenses, but they both looked like they'd nodded in an acknowledgement. Finally, they both made it down after a few minutes, individually consuming much less time than I had to reach the pit. Lauren dropped the ground with ease, but Vanessa landed gorkly, and she crippled to a bend just as she landed. Lauren and I rushed over to her aid. "'Oh, you okay?'

Lauren asked, concerned. "'Am, I think I spray my heel.' "'Well, come here,' I said, as Lauren and I lifted her slowly from the ground on which she lay injured. "'It should fade in a few minutes. Just walk it off,' Lauren reassured her. we flicked our flashlights on towards the tunnel, just as we were about to set foot into the vanishing point. And that's when I heard a small weep from Vanessa beside me. A weep that sounded like someone had abandoned their majority of hope and was wallowing in her own self-demise and loathing.

It was only then that I'd noticed that her flashlight wouldn't turn on. Vanessa pressing her flashlight like it was a jam key on her laptop. Hey, I thought you were all right. trying my best to encourage her. No, Andrew, she replied, her lip quivering, her nose sniffing, her cheeks moist. I'm scared.

And then she pointed at something in the distance, and I turned around to see my flashlight projecting a large, recent blood stain on the wall, trailing drips, travelling south like a controlled red avalanche and contaminating the shallow stream beneath. Oh, we'd... Both overlooked Vanessa's screams, penetrating our eardrums, and rushed to desperately reassure her. It could have been anyone's blood, any animal's blood, any thing's blood.

There was nothing more foolish than me convincing her not to climb back up that ladder, because in that moment in time, there was this idiotic, nagging voice at the back of my head, which is edging me to keep Vanessa down there. But there was this inarguable logic that we needed all the people we could to help find David and Josh, that anyone's emotions could be suppressed, thrown aside, and were only really a burden to help fighting our friends. And that's what I did. I convinced Vanessa of this within a few minutes, only I garnished it with comforting tones, soft-spoken voice and complimenting vocabulary. That's what I did, and I feel like a murdering mind-contortionist for it.

Lauren has it lucky. Lauren looks so peaceful. Her face is so empty. Two hours and 52 minutes. Apparently that sight was enough for Vanessa at this point. As she hobbled back over to the ladder, her heels still in pain and giving her difficulty. I caught her before she even got hold of the ladder and convinced her to stay with us. After all, it was pretty much essential for us to have as many people with us in search for David.

After a few minutes of the most persuading speech that I could muster up, Vanessa warily agreed to continue on with us. Now determined to locate our friend, we all walked on, at the same pace as Vanessa who was still limping from her form. Our little splashes echoed relentlessly through the terrifying quiet that was mutually experienced. We kept her faces straight, her eyes focused, and pace consistent, surrounded by eerie echoes in the occasional distant drip.

trudging through the questionable hygiene of stagnant water in search of two friends was certainly not what any of us had in mind for a weekend of fun unexpectedly then lauren's flashlight began to dim quickly slapping it desperately i could only watch as terror swelled up from lauren's expression after several seconds of no no no no and disbelief of our misfortune the light disappeared leaving my flashlight as the only one left shining. I turned around to the two girls whose dismay had consumed their expressions. The only flashlight left illuminated their grief-stricken faces, as I once more attempted to comfort them with a fading hope that the twins were down here somewhere. Come on, we've been traveling for miles now, I told them. They're probably just up her head. They do the same if two of us we're missing. Come on. Andrew,

wake up, you stupid bastard. Vanessa snapped at me with venom. There's something seriously fucked up going on here. If we don't turn back right now and leave. Oh, look, I'll put this simply so it'll pierce that thick skull for you. Bad things will happen. I then drop my flashlight in frustration and stormed over to face her. How the fuck can you say something like that when two of your friends are missing? demanded. I'm worried for us, she replied, with less venom and more concern. How come neither of you have thought this through? What logical reason would just have for coming down here other than rescuing David, huh? Why would he and David start venturing down this well when he knew that we

were coming back for him? None of it makes any sense. Why is it that you insist that it was animal blood we saw back there? But, well, we haven't actually seen any animals down here. "'Why the fuck are you only saying this now?' I asked with acted frustration, over and above the grim realization. "'Cause no one in this fucking group ever listens to me. "'I'm always the calm, passive one who has to do what everyone else is doing. "'But does anyone else give a shit about me?' "'No.'

"'That's not—' "'Let me finish,' she said, cutting off my objections. "'I came down here with you both, "'because I knew I wouldn't have a say in the matter.' I knew that nothing I could have said would get either of you to listen to reason and just stay back in those tents. Guys, Lauren started saying, worryingly at this point, but I was too engaged in Vanessa's rant and focused on convincing her to continue with us to even notice that she was trying to grab our attention. Look, I had no idea that you felt this way okay, I said.

Guys, I promise that once this is all over, I'll start listening to you more. I continued. Guys. Andrew, turn around, seriously, Vanessa replied. I'm sorry, but if they were still here,

we would have found them ages back. I'm sorry, but we need to get back. Lauren was now speechless. It's going to be dark soon, and getting back to the camp is going to be a nightmare in that, she continued. Lauren's teeth started to jitter.

"'Okay. We'll bite the bullet and call 911. How about that?' I replied. My eyes now adjusted to the dark. I realized Vanessa was looking at Lauren. The sound of her teeth jittering echoes through the well, along with the sound of a low, nearby grumbling. The beams of the flashlight on the ground slightly illuminated her violently shaking her arm, which was pointing in the direction we were walking.

unbelievably terrified by her tense state Vanessa and I slowly turned around and faced the direction she was pointing I couldn't comprehend what my eyes were now witnessing as eight green marble-like eyes reflected in the flashlight beams and blinked curiously and occasionally its grumbling became louder and more aggressive as the hairs on its eight black legs began to twitch violently as its mouth slowly opened.

Its blunt teeth, shaped like half-cresence, illuminated dully like marble, a horrendous set of gnarling teeth but were splattered and dotted in shiny blood. As it growled, its abdomen slowly raised to an awkward angle, readying itself to sprint towards the three of us. I slowly picked up the flashlight

as it continued to observe us, noticing something in the left-hand corner at the top of the tunnel. Very beneath a thick blanket of the creature's silky web, Josh's blue, terrified face was frozen still above an enormous bite wound which was punctured across his entire chest. The blood spilled out and down through the web

and pulled into a glossy puddle on the ground. I shone the light, following the trail of leaking blood and saw hundreds of tiny little spiders crawling around and all over each other all grouped together in the puddle which accumulated below Josh's pale blue dead body

I ran I'd taken all this in in around six seconds and after that I just ran my mind didn't even think to be a leader or to look out for the two girls or to even try to be intelligent

about the whole situation oh all I could do was run Vanessa limped behind me screaming Lauren screamed out my name for me to help her and Vanessa out. The thing screeched harshly and my eardrums rung slavishly to its incessant screeching. While running, my brain finally caught up with itself when I started to become exhausted. I then remembered that Vanessa had sprained something when she fell and that her

and Lauren needed my help. I stopped and rushed back to Lauren and Vanessa. Although what had initially done was self-centered, they were just glad to see me help. helping them. The three of us hobble through the splashing tunnel as fast as we could. Tears streamed down Vanessa's face, and Lauren shouted words of encouragement to her. The screeching was starting to become louder, and whether the two girls knew it or not, it was only a matter of time before it was going to catch up with us. I looked behind me briefly. It looked like it was seconds away from attacking, and it was terrifyingly fast, despite the fact that it galloped like a wounded horse. In about of sudden, desperate anxiety, I tightened my grip on the flashlight I was carrying

and prepared myself, against all odds, to out-strength this creature. Hang on, I shouted to the others. I stopped, turned around, and the creature stood on its two hind legs, and ferociously rang out a sonic, shattering screech. I gathered all the physical strength I could possibly conjure, and savagely whacked it on the head. as many times as I could. I roared.

I swore, and I ignored my quickly aching muscles as thick green goose started to spurt out from its head and from some of its eyes. My whacking started slowing down, and despite every effort I'd put in, I'd failed to kill, or even critically injure the creature.

Ignoring its wounds, it dived on top of me and sunk his teeth into my flesh like spongy marshmallows. I roared at the crushing, agony, which was then accompanied by the injection of a burning liquid that I felt squirt from its fangs and into my bloodstream. Lauren and Vanessa screamed in panic, and in a last ditch effort to stay alive, I battled over the searing pain and the pumping, boiling liquid, and rolled the brain-covered flashlight

over to Lauren. Like a scurrying mouse dashing out from a hole, Lauren grabbed the flashlight and instantly smacked the creature in the head. through my searing pain, the sound of Lauren's valiant efforts became dimmer and dimmer, as my concentration began to seep into a painful, faded blur. Vanessa hopped over to me and made sure I was all right. She held me up, and as we huddled there, listening to Lauren's wax of brain matter become slower and slower.

I slowly started to weep, thinking about what I'd just gotten my friends into. I myself had been bitten by God knows what, and I had almost got two of my dearest friends killed from trying to rescue two friends who were already hopelessly gone. I sat there weeping from both the guilt of bringing my friends out here and from the impending unknown

of what the searing bite on my arm was going to do and from the agony of getting us all trapped for only trying to do the right thing. Lauren wiped the fringe out of her eyes and approached me. She stared into my tear-filled eyes before she herself burst into tears. We hugged each other for a few seconds before slowly walking away, physically deflated and emotionally weak.

Vanessa looked at us still standing on one foot and held her arm out meeting Lauren's shoulder. We hobled once more towards the ladder, and I looked around once more at the unsanitary tunnel and shone my light at the dangling ladder. Looking around me one last time, I gazed at the thick, green goo that covered Lauren's clothes. And that's when I noticed.

To my horror, a thumping red flesh around swollen teeth marks on her left leg. Just like the one on my arm. She obviously didn't want to say anything, so for now I kept my mouth shut. Both Lauren and I went up first, and she helped Vanessa climb up onto the first step. I was eternally grateful that the rock and my mouth would be. managed to keep the ladder in place. Well, the ladder was slippery in places, indicating there

had been a downpour since we'd ventured in. I looked up once more into the never-so-beautiful, murky grey sky, which was a navy shade, indicating it was late evening or early night. I checked my watch, and to my shock and horror, I realised we've been searching down here for almost four hours. No wonder Vanessa had become so angry with me. I'd never thought about what I'd tell the twins' parents. I never thought about what they would have to tell their little six-year-old sister. I never thought about how we'd alert the proper authorities. I was just glad that we'd escaped alive from that horrifying creature.

I hadn't even thought to myself what that thing was, and I was just glad that I could nearly taste the light of day. As we were approaching the open top, we collectively heard one more screech bellowing out from down beneath. "'Lorin and Vanessa shared a dismayed, concerned look, "'but I was too relieved to escape to honestly care. "'I hopped out of the well, "'the feeling of crunchy leaves massaging my feet through my shoes.

"'I reached out my hand and helped Lauren back up to the forest. "'I looked down and saw Vanessa still struggling a little bit up the ladder. "'Come on, girl, you can do it,' Lauren encouraged her. "'At that moment I was a little too preoccupied. I was with feasting my lungs on the fresh damp air to realize, but I snapped out of it and walked over to the well to see how she was getting on. Almost there, I said to her. She looked up and gave me a relieved grin,

and she reached for the next bar. But without warning her hand slipped, as she expected to grab her own weight on the wooden bar. She lost balance there and then, and that beautiful, hopeful smile that she had gleaming across her face, just seconds before became a lost, desperate cry for help, as she suddenly diminished back into the black depths of the well once more. "'Grab onto the ladder!' Lauren shouted down at her.

But a fading scream was her only response. "'Vanesa! Grab back under the ladder!' she shouted again. The scream now would become nothing but a whisper. Her pleas were going hopelessly on her eyes. answered. I rushed over to the side of the well and grabbed hold of the rope. I started reeling it up in the minuscule hope that it was exceptionally heavier. As I continued rolling it out, though, I heard a little wooden bar rattle its way up the side. And my eyes burst into tears when two torn bits of rope hopped out of the well with it. With one final desperate attempt to save my friend,

I flicked the flashlight back on and dropped it down the well. And after that, we ran. Lauren and I ran back through the skinny, deciduous trees and back into the dense, thick forest. We then arrived to our drenched tents and logs, where only 24 hours ago we were sharing intimate secrets and drinking questionable mixtures of beer and whiskey. Finally, after a while of running,

we'd arrived back to the lonely black juries. sheep surrounded by dense deciduous trees, where the red wounds on our limbs were thumping and bleeding. I leaned over to vomit and catch my breath, and then Lauren's eyes shut as she clasped onto the damp, mossy forest floor. Her exhausted body escaped a suffering that I deserved for slaughtering all my friends, as her fragile, blonde head cracked off a nearby sharp rock, and then her body lay limp, her warm blood pooling onto the cold, wet ground. Shortly after her death, the wounds burst like popping bubble wrap, and those little spiders I'd seen rolling around so contently in Josh's blood slowly emerge one by one from

out of her flesh. I sat here suffering for hours on hand. I don't even know what sort of fate Vanessa had met down in that damn well. There's no way of me ever knowing, and hopefully I never will. All I can do is sit here praying that this phone soon gets a signal, and that I can pray that Vanessa is rescued from that well as soon as can be. Well, I never was a prey, man. And now I found myself clutching the cross necklace that hangs around the twins' rearview mirror.

My wounds continue to pulsate, almost like they're alive themselves. If they are, I hope they feel the pain that I do. It's only a matter of time now before this little creature who's stretching his leg to the edge of the now-seath-through bubble pops out and feasts on my flesh. I'm becoming very dizzy and very nauseous, and these condensating windows are not making me feel any better. I feel clammy, humid,

and I can no longer see Lauren's peaceful face and envy how I'll soon be like that too. All I can think about is the horrendous pain, this pulsating swelling has been putting me through for the last few hours. Well, this is my final note here. My legs feel heavy and paralyzed. I poke my head up once more to try and have a look at Lauren's body. Those spiders seem to have disappeared or have moved around to her back or something. The visible part of her skin is ghastly pale, apart from her throbbing pink leg,

My light-headedness has come to a point where my arm is starting to become numb, if that even makes sense. I don't know and I don't care. Once one of them is visibly making an effort, I at least know his and my time are soon. Never expected my last thoughts to be self-pity. Now it's three hours, fourteen minutes. God, what have I unleashed upon this world? four fantastical tales of distorted reality for you this evening, for your listening pleasure. I do so hope you enjoyed your time with me and that you'll do it again next week.

Until then, a very, very sweet dream. Some bye-bye-bar.