Doc Savage - Up From Earth's Center Part 11

The tentacles of the creature that embraced him, indeed the thing's whole body, felt spongy and slimy, and about it was the odor that Monk had noted, the sickening odor of fear. It seemed to have, except for its ability to remain fastened upon him, no real strength; he felt its teeth gnawing madly at his throat with a futile desire to eat.

He remembered then about their fear of flame. His hands were free; the creature seemed to have no desire to pin his hands. He fumbled insanely in his pockets, found his cigarette lighter and thumbed it into flame. Instantly, the repulsive thing flew away from him, covering many feet in one leap, and flattened itself against the broken stone, wailing with maniacal terror. Doc Savage sprang to his feet, more filledwith fear than he had ever been, and began running. He did not look back. He had no desire to look back.

He climbed until he was spent, shaking, and then continued climbing, until the pounding exhaustion brought some return of clear thinking. After that, he kept his eyes open, and at last chose a place where his final grenade, judiciously placed, would bring down a great section of cavern roof, choking any channel below.

He time-fused the grenade, and he was four or five hundred feet higher when it exploded, bringing down a thundering ma.s.s of stone and sending upward a cloud of rock dust from which he fled in unreasoning terror, and which pursued him for a long time, seemingly.

XI.

THE sergeant of State Police was named Griswold, and he was a slender, soft-spoken, middle-aged fellow whose practical outlook seemed unshakeable.

"I think Linningen's explanation is the most practical one," he said.

It was mid-afternoon, bright sunlight beating against the pleasant log walls of the lodge and melting the slight skift of snow that had fallen. Doc Savage stood at a window, frowning thoughtfully at the icicles which were forming at the eaves.

"We were down in that cavern four days," Ham Brooks said grimly. "I don't get that. There was no impression of being there that long."

Sergeant Griswold ignored that and told Linningen, "Let's have your theory again, sir. It sounds solid to me."

"I feel it's the only possible explanation," Linningen said. "In fact, it's quite reasonable. It amounts to simply this: Gas. Gas of one sort or another is often found in natural caverns. There was gas in this one, gas that was a bit unusual in that it opened the way to hallucinations in the minds of the victims. There are, as you know, certain anaesthetics that are conducive to hallucinations on the part of the person being subjected to the effects of the stuff. Mr. Savage, I'm sure, can cite you a number. Personally I recall having some ghastly dreams while having my appendix removed."

"That's what sold me," said the police sergeant emphatically "They gave me a shot of gas a few months ago to set a broken arm, and the dream I had would scare you stiff."

"Right," Linningen said. "We had all been pumped full of this h.e.l.l-down-below stuff before we went into that cavern. So, when the gas got to us, we naturally had nightmarish dreams involving our own ideas of h.e.l.l."

Monk Mayfair snorted violently "Do two people have identical dreams?"

"It's possible."

"Well, Doc and I sure saw the same version of the outskirts of Hades," Monk told him.

"Nothing unusual about that. You, Mr. Mayfair, and you, Mr. Savage, have been closely a.s.sociated for a long time, and the best of friends. Naturally, your mental processes would have a similarity. That would account for your identical versions of Tophet."

Monk shuddered. "I'm glad something accounts for it. I tell you, I was a believer there for a while." Ham Brooks said, "I'm sure Linningen's right about this devil stuff."

"How would you know?" Monk snapped. "You didn't pay the place a visit."

"I know that." Ham touched a bandage which swathed his head. "I slept it out. That Williams guy gave me a whack over the head and left me for dead well back in the cavern. But I've explained that." Ham nodded at the police officer. "I was still out when the sergeant found me."

Sergeant Griswold nodded importantly "I found or rather one of my troopers found Mr. Brooks lying unconscious near the trail. I can a.s.sure you that Mr. Brooks had no delusions of having visited h.e.l.l."

"How could he, he wasn't there," Monk snapped.

"He wasn't deep enough in the cavern to come under the influence of the gas, you mean.

"Oh, have it your own way." Monk grinned sheepishly, adding, "G.o.d knows, I'm glad somebody thought of a peg I can hang my peace of mind on. I don't guess I'll even ask you if you can explain Gilmore Sullivan's conviction over a period of months that he had taken a peek at h.e.l.l and they'd sent a junior-grade demon up to shut his mouth."

Linningen looked impatient. "Longer exposure to the gas - and remember, Gilmore Sullivan spent literally weeks on end in the cavern-produced a more permanent breakdown in the mind. The delusions stayed with the victim. They weren't quickly tossed off, as you gentlemen and Miss Sullivan have been able to toss them off."

"O.K.," Monk said. "I won't argue.

Sergeant Griswold, whose b.u.t.tons and leather belt shone brightly, smiled at them. "I have gathered a pretty good idea of why Williams kidnapped Miss Sullivan and her brother and took them into the cavern. Williams thought there was a vein of valuable ore to be found there."

Ham Brooks asked, "Where'd you get that idea?"

The sergeant looked confused. "Well, it's logical. How would you account for it any other way?"

Doc Savage spoke quietly "We might question Gilmore Sullivan about it."

Sergeant Griswold said that was a good idea, a darned good idea, and they went to the sunny bedroom where Gilmore Sullivan was lying. Gilmore listened in some embarra.s.sment to their questions.

"I'm a geologist and always looking for valuable minerals, naturally," Gilmore explained. "I don't recall finding any gold or anything like that, but after I fell victim of the gas, I might have, and I might have given Williams the idea there was something like that in the cavern.

Doc eyed Gilmore sharply. "When could you have given Williams an idea like that?"

"Oh, after I was rescued from the island. Williams was on the schooner, you know."

Doc asked, "Do you remember telling Williams such a story?"

Gilmore hesitated. "Well, no. But there's quite a lot I don't exactly recall." "Remember how you got on the Island?" Doc inquired.

Gilmore nodded. "In a small sailboat. I landed, then shoved the boat off and let the wind drift it away I was quite insane." "You're going to be all right now," Linningen comforted him.

Sergeant Griswold told Doc Savage, "Since you seem skeptical about that Bill Williams, I've asked our head office to check on the fellow. He's supposed to be an ex-football man, a radio commentator, and fairly well known. Right?"

Doc glanced quizzically at Linningen, who nodded. "That's right," Linningen said.

Leaving the bedroom, Doc Savage sauntered along a hall, down a flight of steps, and stopped before a windowless storeroom before the door of which a policeman stood.

"Your prisoner behaving himself?" Doc inquired.

"Sure," replied the cop.

"Mind if I talk to him?"

"I guess it'll be all right," the policeman said. He unlocked the door, permitting Doc to enter, then closed and locked the door.

Mr. Wail was lying on a bunk on his back. He turned his head and smiled benignly. "Good evening, or good afternoon, rather. How is the inquisition coming?"

"Not too good for you, Wail," Doc told him dryly "The police have about concluded you and Williams were in cahoots, and after the secret of a vein of valuable ore you thought Gilmore Sullivan had found in the cavern."

"They're nuts," Wail said pleasantly "I was a devil, junior-grade, sent up to silence Sullivan. Williams was a slightly higher-grade devil sent up to ascertain why I was dallying with my job."

"The police don't believe that, of course," Doc told him.

"Naturally. They're happier with the other story, and I'm happy that they are happy"

"You're going to stick around?" Doc asked.

"I am, you bet."

"As a deserting demon, aren't you likely to be picked up and pressed back into service?"

"Not if I can help it," said Wail fervently "I think I can outfox the boys. Remember, I had over a hundred years experience knocking around down there."

"You like it up here?"

"I sure didn't like it down there."

Doc nodded. "You're likely to spend a few years in jail, if the police have their way." "No, I won't."

"No?"

"I'll just walk out," said Mr. Wail blandly "Stone walls and iron bars do not a prison make, not as long as I've got a few of my devil powers left over."

"I see."

Wail snorted one of his best efforts. "No, you don't see. You don't believe a d.a.m.ned word of it." Doc turned to the door. "Well, I'll be seeing you, since you're going to stick around."

"No, you won't," said Mr. Wail. "I meant stick around this good old earth, topside. I didn't mean stick around in jail."

"You're leaving?"

"I'm leaving," Wail declared. "I won't be seeing you again. Keep your nose clean."

Doc stepped out, the policeman eyed him carefully, then the cop locked the door, after peering inside to make sure Mr. Wail was still there. "That little fat guy kinda gives me the w.i.l.l.i.e.s," the officer confided.

State Police Sergeant Griswold wore a rather odd expression when Doc Savage rejoined him. He had apparently been shouting at Linningen, and the psychiatrist was manifestly uncomfortable.

"Perhaps I didn't investigate the fellow fully enough," Linningen mumbled. "You see, he was introduced to me by a friend, expressed an interest in yachting, and I invited him along as a guest. He was an amiable and pleasant guest, I a.s.sure you.

"But you think he coulda managed so the schooner went past that island and found Gilmore Sullivan?"

Officer Griswold snapped.

"Well, possibly," Linningen admitted.

"What's this?" Doc inquired.

Officer Griswold said emphatically, "Williams was no football player or radio commentator. There's no record of him."

"No record at all of Williams?" Doc asked oddly.

Officer Griswold frowned. "Now, don't get on that devil stuff again. Williams is just somebody that Wail guy picked up to help him get the ore deposit they imagined existed."

"I hope you can prove that," Doc said fervently.

"You watch me!" Griswold barked. "I'm going to pump it all out of Wail. I'm going down there right now and do that."

The officer stepped through the door of the storeroom with a completely blank and unbelieving expression on his face. "Where the devil did he go?" he gasped.

The storeroom walls were intact, so were ceiling and floor, and there were no windows. And no Mr.

Wail.

Sergeant Griswold said, "When did you let him out?"

"I didn't let him out!" the policeman declared emphatically "n.o.body let him out. He's gone. n.o.body went in there but Doc Savage, and he came out alone after talking to this Wail guy for a while. Isn't that right, Mr. Savage?"

Doc Savage was wearing a thoughtful expression. "Right to some extent. You didn't hear me talking to anyone, did you?"

"Huh?" The policeman stared. "Wasn't he in there when you went in?" "Did you really think he was?" Doc countered.

The officer swallowed. "My G.o.d! Why didn't you say the room was empty? No! No, it couldn't have been empty. I looked in after you left and saw this Wail - Oh, nuts! I was imagining - Why didn't you tell me the room was empty, Savage?"

"I thought it might be some sort of joke," Doc said.

Sergeant Griswold swore. "I don't know how that Wail got away, but we'll catch him." The sergeant fisted his hands. "We'll make him wish he was back in the brimstone country, where be claims he came from."

"Want to bet on either statement?" Doc asked dryly.

THE END.