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Fantascience Digest, v. 2, issue 4, May-June 1939

Page 10

Page 10                 FANTASCIENCE DIGEST

over the speaker system informing them that it was only the trail of a large meteor. As I wearily resought my bed I could hear a woman's hysterical voice cursing the scientist.

   (Day Following). Strabnor, a rocket man, went mad and murdered Richman's little girl before we could reach him. Her poor little body was slashed to pieces, the madman doing his best to imitate the work of the unknown death which has ravished our ranks. As I write this, I can hear his fists pounding on the locked door of his room. Every few minutes he stops pounding and begins screaming for the "big eyes" to go away.

   Food and drink enough for about three more months, but in order to keep the oxygen content of the air in the ship up, and to maintain a liveable temperature, we must run the rocket motors twice each day. How long the fuel will last under those conditions, I won't attempt to guess.

   (A gap of approximately one month). I, with the four remaining male members of our little group aboard the Y 498 G, ventured into the territory surrounding the ship today. We followed a southerly course, keeping a sharp lookout for any signs of animal or vegetable life. It's almost hopeless, I suppose, but we'll go mad doing nothing.

   Walking is a nightmare in this dust. At every step it blooms up into clouds which hang suspended for hours in the breathless air. I see now how Davison, the missing patrolman I sent out when we first reached this nightmare world, had become lost. I had to keep stopping to clear a spot in the vision plate of my helmet.

   Back to the ship at four. Gronburg was right. We are in a period of the earth's future so advanced that not even a trace of former civilization remains. There is only the dust, the violet sky, the leering stars.

   I've ordere everyone to their staterooms. Strabnor is loose and out to kill. It happened about twenty minutes ago. I was in the control room when to my amazement, in walked the killer. Laughing when I asked him how he'd escaped, he looked about the room, making sure we were alone, then leaned near my ear.

   "I saw IT, commander."

   I asked him what he meant by "IT".

   "The Eater, commander. Him that comes to us, one by one; him that drinks the souls from our shrivelled hulks; him, the Black One, who sits and talks with my in my room."

   "Talks with you?" I asked, my hand ready on the butt of my gun.
  
   "Thru my brain, commander. Thru my brain. He tells me who's gonna die---before they die." He backed clumsily away as I rose to my feet.

   "He let me see him, commander." The former rocket expert turned like a cat as my co-pilot came into the room, and seeing the maniac, drew his gun. 

   Meekly he stood in the center of the room as Wendy walked up to take him back to his room. But as my friend reached his side, Strabnor suddenly lashed out with his foot, knocking the gun from Wendy's hand and at the same time tossing the pilot's body in front of him as a shield.

   Gun drawn, I crouched waiting

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Page 10 FANTASCIENCE DIGEST over the speaker system informing them that it was only the trail of a large meteor. As I wearily resought my bed I could hear a woman's hysterical voice cursing the scientist. (Day Following). Strabnor, a rocket man, went mad and murdered Richman's little girl before we could reach him. Her poor little body was slashed to pieces, the madman doing his best to imitate the work of the unknown death which has ravished our ranks. As I write this, I can hear his fists pounding on the locked door of his room. Every few minutes he stops pounding and begins screaming for the "big eyes" to go away. Food and drink enough for about three more months, but in order to keep the oxygen content of the air in the ship up, and to maintain a liveable temperature, we must run the rocket motors twice each day. How long the fuel will last under those conditions, I won't attempt to guess. (A gap of approximately one month). I, with the four remaining male members of our little group aboard the Y 498 G, ventured into the territory surrounding the ship today. We followed a southerly course, keeping a sharp lookout for any signs of animal or vegetable life. It's almost hopeless, I suppose, but we'll go mad doing nothing. Walking is a nightmare in this dust. At every step it blooms up into clouds which hang suspended for hours in the breathless air. I see now how Davison, the missing patrolman I sent out when we first reached this nightmare world, had become lost. I had to keep stopping to clear a spot in the vision plate of my helmet. Back to the ship at four. Gronburg was right. We are in a period of the earth's future so advanced that not even a trace of former civilization remains. There is only the dust, the violet sky, the leering stars. I've ordere everyone to their staterooms. Strabnor is loose and out to kill. It happened about twenty minutes ago. I was in the control room when to my amazement, in walked the killer. Laughing when I asked him how he'd escaped, he looked about the room, making sure we were alone, then leaned near my ear. "I saw IT, commander." I asked him what he meant by "IT". "The Eater, commander. Him that comes to us, one by one; him that drinks the souls from our shrivelled hulks; him, the Black One, who sits and talks with my in my room." "Talks with you?" I asked, my hand ready on the butt of my gun. "Thru my brain, commander. Thru my brain. He tells me who's gonna die---before they die." He backed clumsily away as I rose to my feet. "He let me see him, commander." The former rocket expert turned like a cat as my co-pilot came into the room, and seeing the maniac, drew his gun. Meekly he stood in the center of the room as Wendy walked up to take him back to his room. But as my friend reached his side, Strabnor suddenly lashed out with his foot, knocking the gun from Wendy's hand and at the same time tossing the pilot's body in front of him as a shield. Gun drawn, I crouched waiting