the situation here better than you do. We'd be runninga terrible risk trying to work right at this time."
"Sure," Ward said, "We'd be running a risk. That's apparently yourentire philosophy. Sit tight, do nothing, because there might be aslight risk involved."
He turned and strode to the door.
"Wait," Halliday cried. "You can't go out now."
Ward disengaged the lock with a swift deft motion.
"Who's going to stop me?" he asked.
Halliday crossed to his side with quick, pattering strides. He grabbedhim by the arm and pulled him around.
"Please listen to me," he said imploringly. "I know what I'm talkingabout. I--"
Ward shook the hand loose and stared coldly into Halliday's, whitestrained features.
"You're gutless, Halliday," he said in a low tense voice. "Now keep outof my way."
He turned to the door again, but Halliday grabbed him suddenly andpushed him back.
"You're not going to do it," he cried, his voice trembling. "I'm notgoing to let you."
* * * * *
Ward grabbed the man by his lapels and swung him away from the door. Hestepped close to him and his right fist chopped down in a savageaxe-like stroke. The short, powerful blow exploded under Halliday'schin. His knees buckled and he sprawled limply to the floor.
Ward stared down at the still form and he felt an instant of regret forstriking a man fifty pounds lighter than himself, but he realized thatit had been the only course open.
He drew his raytube, inspected it quickly to make sure that it was inperfect order, then swung open the door and stepped out into the graymurkiness of the Martian atmosphere.
The wind had increased to a wild mad scream. Flaky particles of soilstung his face like myriad needle-pricks as he braced himself againstthe buffeting force of the gale.
He couldn't see more than a few feet ahead of him, but he knew thegeneral direction of the building which housed the materialization unitand he headed that way, bent almost double against the wind.
He heard and saw nothing but the wild wail of the monsoon and the grayswirling murk. There was an awesome feeling in staggering blindly onthrough a dead gray world of howling dust-laden wind.
He felt as if he were the only person left alive in the universe. But heplowed stubbornly forward. There was work to be done and he felt a grimexaltation in the knowledge that he had enough fortitude to let nothingstop him from doing his job.
Hell! What was a little wind? This thought came to him and he smiledgrimly. He'd show Halliday! He'd show 'em all! Nothing was going to stophim!
There was a peculiar crackling sound in the air about him, as if boltsof unseen lightning were slashing through the turbulent atmosphere, buthe forged ahead. He knew there was little danger of an electric boltstriking him as long as he was out in the open.
The distance to the goal was not a matter of a dozen yards or so, but ittook him fully five minutes to cover the stretch. He had troublebreathing; each breath was snatched from his open mouth by the fury ofthe wind. And his eyes were rimmed with dust and streaming from thestinging bite of the flaky soil.
When he reached the wall of the building he was sobbing for breath andblind from the whiplash of the wind. He sagged against the comfortablebulk of the squat, solid structure and wiped at his eyes with ahandkerchief, but the wind soon tore the flimsy cloth from his fingers.
There was nothing to do but find the door of the building as quickly aspossible. Using his hands as groping feelers he staggered around twocorners of the buildings until his fingers closed about a door knob.
The gale was increasing in intensity; the roaring lash of the wind waswild and explosive, as if the floodgates of Nature had swung open tounleash this maelstrom of fury and destruction.
The sputtering crackle of electric energy he had noticed seemed to beswelling in volume, rising steadily in pitch and fury. And then a newsound was added to the hideous cacophony. Ward heard it faintly at firstand it failed to register on his consciousness.
The new sound was an unearthly rasping noise that roared about his headand crashed against his ear drums with terrifying impact. The soundseemed everywhere; it seemed to emanate from the unleashed forces of thestorm itself; its marrow-chilling, rasping moan was a demoniacal cry,screaming a weird defiance into the teeth of the mighty monsoon.
* * * * *
Ward, hugging the building, heard the rasping sound, and he rememberedwhat Halliday had told him. Crouched against the side of the structure,listening to that weird, desolate wail of unnamable horror, he felt hisheart thudding with sudden fear against his ribs.
The door of the building was jammed. He slammed his shoulder against itssolid unyielding surface again and again--without avail! The harrowingrasping undertone of the crushing gale was growing and swelling--itseemed to be converging on him from all sides, a creation of the graywhining murk of the monsoon.
Ward's hand tightened on the butt of his raytube. He wheeled about,pressing his back to the wall of the building. His eyes raked theswirling turbulence of the storm.
And through the raging, eddying mists of gray his wind-lashed eyes madeout dreadful, weaving shapes, slithering through the fury of thestorm--toward him!
An instinctive scream tore at the muscles of his throat, but the windwhipped the sound from his mouth and cast it into the gale before itcould reach his ears.
He crouched and raised his gun.
The shapes were vague misty illusions to his straining eyes. Then ablanket of wind swept over him, buffeting him against the wall at hisback, and in a momentary flick of visibility that followed the blast, hewas able to see the _things_ that were advancing toward him.
There was one nauseous, sense-stunning instant of incredible horror ashis eyes focused on the nameless monstrosities that were revealed in thegray mists of the monsoon.
One instant of sheer numbing horror, an instinct a billion years old,buried beneath centuries' weight in his subconscious, suddenly writhedinto life, as pulsing and compelling as the day it had been generated.
The lost forgotten instincts of man's mind that warn him of the horrorand menace of the unknown, the nameless, the unclean, were clamoringwildly at his consciousness.
For these _things_ were hideous and repellent in their very essence.Whether they were alive or not, his numbed, horror-stunned brain wouldnever know. The dry, rustling rasping sound that emanated from themseemed to partake of the same nature as the electrical energy generatedby the monsoon, but that was only a fleeting, terror-strainedimpression.
The raytube fell from his palsied hand; but he didn't notice. There wasonly one blind motivation governing his thoughts.
And that was flight!
The unreasoning terror of the hunted, of the helpless, gripped him withnumbing force. There was no thought in his mind to fight, to face thesethings that emerged from the dead grayness of the monsoon, but only ahideously desperate desire to escape.
* * * * *
Without conscious thought or volition his legs suddenly churned beneathhim and he lunged forward blindly, desperately, lurching through thebuffeting force of the gale toward the sanctuary of the building wherehe had left Halliday.
The rasping, nerve-chilling sound roared about his head and the lashingscreech of the monsoon was a banshee-wail in his ears as he stumbled andstaggered on, driven by the wildest, most elemental fear he had everknown.
Suddenly the squat structure loomed directly ahead of him, only a yardaway. The door was standing ajar, and, with a broken sob of relief, helunged into the lighted interior of the room.
Halliday was crawling dazedly to his feet as Ward staggered blindlythrough the door, his breath coming in great choking sobs.
"My God--"
Halliday's voice broke and Ward saw that his eyes were staring in horrorbeyond him, to the still open door where the gray swirling fury of themonsoon was creeping in.
An
d other _things_ were in the open doorway!
Ward knew that without turning to look. The horror mirrored inHalliday's face told him that more plainly than could his own eyes.
There was horror and fear in Halliday's face, but the tightness of hislips did not relax into the flaccid looseness of hysteria.
With superhuman control he was keeping a grip on himself.
"Don't move!" he snapped, through set jaws. "I'll try to get at therifle."
Ward's heart was thundering a tattoo of terror. Halliday's words made noimpression on the horror-stunned brain. He lunged wildly across theroom, dimly he heard Halliday's sudden shouted warning.
Without a backward glance he lurched into the small room that served asa kitchen. Through the fog of terror that swirled about his mind, heremembered only one thing: Halliday's remark of a refuge built there foremergency purposes.
His fingers tore open the small door alongside the refrigerator