The White Invaders

  Produced by Greg Weeks, Barbara Tozier and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

  This etext was produced from "Astounding Stories" December 1931. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.

  The White Invaders

  _A Complete Novelette_

  By Ray Cummings

  |----------------------------------------|| Out of their unknown fourth || dimensional realm materializes a || horde of White Invaders with || power invincible. ||----------------------------------------|

  CHAPTER I

  _A White Shape in the Moonlight_

  The colored boy gazed at Don and me with a look of terror.

  "But I tell you I seen it!" he insisted. "An' it's down there now. Aghost! It's all white an' shinin'!"

  "Nonsense, Willie," Don turned to me. "I say, Bob, what do you makeof this?"

  "I seen it, I tell you," the boy broke in. "It ain't a mile fromhere if you want to go look at it."

  Don gripped the colored boy whose coffee complexion had taken on agreenish cast with his terror.

  _I fired at an oncoming white figure._]

  "Stop saying that, Willie. That's absolute rot. There's no suchthing as a ghost."

  "But I seen--"

  "Where?"

  "Over on the north shore. Not far."

  "What did you see?" Don shook him. "Tell us exactly."

  "A man! I seen a man. He was up on a cliff just by the golf coursewhen I first seen him. I was comin' along the path down by the FortBeach an' I looked up an' there he was, shinin' all white in themoonlight. An' then before I could run, he came floatin' down atme."

  "Floating?"

  "Yes. He didn't walk. He came down through the rocks. I could seethe rocks of the cliff right through him."

  Don laughed at that. But neither he nor I could set this down asutter nonsense, for within the past week there had been many wildstories of ghosts among the colored people of Bermuda. The Negroesof Bermuda are not unduly superstitious, and certainly they are moreintelligent, better educated than most of their race. But the littleislands, this past week, were echoing with whispered tales ofstrange things seen at night. It had been mostly down at the lowerend of the comparatively inaccessible Somerset; but now here it wasin our own neighborhood.

  "You've got the fever, Willie," Don laughed. "I say, who told youyou saw a man walking through rock?"

  "Nobody told me. I seen him. It ain't far if you--"

  "You think he's still there?"

  "Maybe so. Mr. Don, he was standin' still, with his arms folded. Iran, an'--"

  "Let's go see if he's there," I suggested. "I'd like to have a lookat one of these ghosts."

  * * * * *

  But even as I lightly said it, a queer thrill of fear shot throughme. No one can contemplate an encounter with the supernaturalwithout a shudder.

  "Right you are," Don exclaimed. "What's the use of theory? Can youlead us to where you saw him, Willie?"

  "Ye-es, of course."

  The sixteen-year-old Willie was shaking again. "W-what's that for,Mr. Don?"

  Don had picked up a shotgun which was standing in a corner of theroom.

  "Ain't no--no use of that, Mr. Don."

  "We'll take it anyway, Willie. Ready, Bob?"

  A step sounded behind us. "Where are you going?"

  It was Jane Dorrance, Don's cousin. She stood in the doorway. Herlong, filmy white summer dress fell nearly to her ankles. Her blackhair was coiled on her head. In her bodice was a single redpoinsettia blossom. As she stood motionless, her small slight figureframed against the dark background of the hall, she could have beena painting of an English beauty save for the black hair suggestingthe tropics. Her blue-eyed gaze went from Don to me, and then to thegun.

  "Where are you going?"

  "Willie saw a ghost." Don grinned. "They've come from Somerset,Jane. I say, one of them seems to be right here."

  "Where?"

  "Willie saw it down by the Fort Beach."

  "To-night?"

  "Yes. Just now. So he says, though it's all rot, of course."

  "Oh," said Jane, and she became silent.

  * * * * *

  She appeared to be barring our way. It seemed to me, too, that thecolor had left her face, and I wondered vaguely why she was takingit so seriously. That was not like Jane: she was a level-headedgirl, not at all the sort to be frightened by Negroes talking ofghosts.

  She turned suddenly on Willie. The colored boy had been employed inthe Dorrance household since childhood. Jane herself was onlyseventeen, and she had known Willie here in this same big whitestone house, almost from infancy.

  "Willie, what you saw, was it a--a man?"

  "Yes," said the boy eagerly. "A man. A great big man. All white an'shinin'."

  "A man with a hood? Or a helmet? Something like a queer-looking haton his head, Willie?"

  "Jane!" expostulated Don. "What do you mean?"

  "I saw him--saw it," said Jane nervously.

  "Good Lord!" I exclaimed. "You did? When? Why didn't you tell us?"

  "I saw it last night." She smiled faintly. "I didn't want to add tothese wild tales. I thought it was my imagination. I had beenasleep--I fancy I was dreaming of ghosts anyway."

  "You saw it--" Don prompted.

  "Outside my bedroom window. Some time in the middle of the night.The moon was out and the--the man was all white and shining, just asWillie says."

  "But your bedroom," I protested. "Good Lord, your bedroom is on theupper floor."

  But Jane continued soberly, with a sudden queer hush to her voice,"It was standing in the air outside my window. I think it had beenlooking in. When I sat up--I think I had cried out, though none ofyou heard me evidently--when I sat up, it moved away; walked away.When I got to the window, there was nothing to see." She smiledagain. "I decided it was all part of my dream. This morning--well, Iwas afraid to tell you because I knew you'd laugh at me. So manygirls down in Somerset have been imagining things like that."

  * * * * *

  To me, this was certainly a new light on the matter. I think thatboth Don and I, and certainly the police, had vaguely been of theopinion that some very human trickster was at the bottom of allthis. Someone, criminal or otherwise, against whom our shotgun wouldbe efficacious. But here was level-headed Jane telling us of a manstanding in mid-air peering into her second-floor bedroom, and thenwalking away. No trickster could accomplish that.

  "Ain't we goin'?" Willie demanded. "I seen it, but it'll be gone."

  "Right enough," Don exclaimed grimly. "Come on, Willie."

  He disregarded Jane as he walked to the door, but she clung to him.

  "I'm coming," she said obstinately, and snatched a white lace scarffrom the hall rack and flung it over her head like a mantilla. "Don,may I come?" she added coaxingly.

  He gazed at me dubiously. "Why, I suppose so," he said finally. Thenhe grinned. "Certainly no harm is going to come to us from a ghost.Might frighten us to death, but that's about all a ghost can do,isn't it?"

  We left the house. The only other member of the Dorrance householdwas Jane's father--the Hon. Arthur Dorrance, M.P. He had been inHamilton all day, and had not yet returned. It was about nineo'clock of an evening in mid-May. The huge moon rode high in afleecy sky, illumining the island with a light so bright one couldalmost read by it.

  "We'll walk," said Don. "No use riding, Willie."

  "No. It's shorter over the hill. It ain't far."

  * * * * *

  We left our bicycles standing against th
e front veranda, and, withWillie and Don leading us, we plunged off along the little dirt roadof the Dorrance estate. The poinsettia blooms were thick on bothsides of us. A lily field, which a month before had been solid whitewith blossoms, still added its redolence to the perfumed night air.Through the branches of the squat cedar trees, in almost everydirection there was water visible--deep purple this night, with arippled sheen of silver upon it.

  We reached the main road, a twisting white ribbon in the moonlight.We followed it for a little distance, around a corkscrew turn,across a tiny causeway where the moonlit water of an inlet lappedagainst the base of the road and the sea-breeze fanned us. Acarriage, heading into the nearby town of St. Georges, passed uswith the thud of horses' hoofs pounding on the hard smooth stone ofthe road. Under its jaunty canopy an American man reclined with agirl on each side of him. He waved us a jovial greeting as theypassed.

  Then Willie turned us off the road. We climbed the ramp of an opengrassy field, with a little cedar woods to one side, and up ahead,half a mile to the right, the dark crumbling ramparts of a littleancient fort which once was for the defense of the island.

  Jane and I were together, with Willie and Don in advance of us, andDon carrying the shotgun.

  "You really saw it, Jane?"

  "Oh, I don't know. I thought I did. Then I thought that I didn't."

  "Well, I hope we see it now. And if it's human--which it must be ifthere's anything to it at all--we'll march it back to St. Georgesand lock it up."

  She turned and smiled at me, but it was a queer smile, and I mustadmit my own feelings were queer.

  "Don't you think you're talking nonsense, Bob?"

  "Yes, I do," I admitted. "I guess maybe the whole thing is nonsense.But it's got the police quite worried. You knew that, didn't you?All this wild talk--there must be some basis for it."

  Don was saying, "Take the lower path, Willie. Take the same routeyou were taking when you saw it."

  * * * * *

  We climbed down a steep declivity, shadowed by cedar trees, andreached the edge of a tiny, almost landlocked, lagoon. It was nomore than a few hundred feet in diameter. The jagged, porousgray-black rocks rose like an upstanding crater rim to mark itsten-foot entrance to the sea. A little white house stood here withits back against the fifty-foot cliff. It was dark, its coloredoccupants probably already asleep. Two rowboats floated in thelagoon, moored near the shore. And on the narrow strip of stonybeach, nets were spread to dry.

  "This way, Mister Don. I was comin' along here, toward the Fort."Willie was again shaking with excitement. "Just past that bend."

  "You keep behind me." Don led us now, with his gun half raised."Don't talk when we get further along, and walk as quietly as youcan."

  The narrow path followed the bottom of the cliff. We presently hadthe open sea before us, with a line of reefs a few hundred yards outagainst which the lazy ground swell was breaking in a line of white.The moonlit water lapped gently at our feet. The cliff rose to ourright, a mass of gray-black rock, pitted and broken, fantasticallyindented, unreal in the moonlight.

  "I seen it--just about there," Willie whispered.

  Before us, a little rock headland jutted out into the water. Donhalted us, and we stood silent, gazing. I think that there is hardlyany place more fantastic than a Bermuda shorefront in the moonlight.In these little eroded recesses, caves and grottoes one might expectto see crooked-legged gnomes, scampering to peer at the humanintruder. Gnarled cedars, hanging precariously, might hide pixiesand elves. A child's dream of fairyland, this reality of a Bermudashorefront.

  "There it is!"

  * * * * *

  Willie's sibilant whisper dispelled my roaming fancy. We all turnedto stare behind us in the direction of Willie's unsteady finger. Andwe all saw it--the white shape of a man down near the winding pathwe had just traversed. A wild thrill of fear, excitement,revulsion--call it what you will--surged over me. The thing had beenfollowing us!

  We stood frozen, transfixed. The shape was almost at the waterlevel, a hundred feet or so away. It had stopped its advance; to allappearances it was a man standing there, calmly regarding us. Donand I swung around to face it, shoving Jane and Willie behind us.

  Willie had started off in terror, but Jane gripped him.

  "Quiet, Willie!"

  "There it is! See it--"

  "Of course we see it," Don whispered. "Don't talk. We'll wait; seewhat it does."

  We stood a moment. The thing was motionless. It was in a patch ofshadow, but, as though gleaming with moonlight, it seemed to shine.Its glow was silvery, with a greenish cast almost phosphorescent.Was it standing on the path? I could not tell. It was too far away;too much in shadow. But I plainly saw that it had the shape of aman. Wraith, or substance? That also, was not yet apparent.

  Then suddenly it was moving! Coming toward us. But not floating, forI could see the legs moving, the arms swaying. With measured treadit was walking slowly toward us!

  Don's shotgun went up. "Bob, we'll hold our ground. Is it--is hearmed, can you see?"

  "No! Can't tell."

  Armed! What nonsense! How could this wraith, this apparition, do usphysical injury!

  "If--if he gets too close, Bob, by God, I'll shoot. But if he'shuman, I wouldn't want to kill him."

  * * * * *

  The shape had stopped again. It was fifty feet from us now, and wecould clearly see that it was a man, taller than normal. He stoodnow with folded arms--a man strangely garbed in what seemed a white,tight-fitting jacket and short trunks. On his head was a black skullcap surmounted by a helmet of strange design.

  Don's voice suddenly echoed across the rocks.

  "Who are you?"

  The white figure gave no answer. It did not move.

  "We see you. What do you want?" Don repeated.

  Then it moved again. Partly toward us and partly sidewise, away fromthe sea. The swing of the legs was obvious. It was walking. But notupon the path, nor upon the solid surface of these Bermuda rocks! Asurge of horror went through me at the realization. This was nothinghuman! It was walking on some other surface, invisible to us, butsomething solid beneath its own tread.

  "Look!" Jane whispered. "It's walking--_into the cliff_!"

  There was no doubt about it now. Within thirty feet of us, it wasslowly walking up what must have been a steep ascent. Already it wasten feet or more above our level. And it was behind the rocks of thecliff! Shining in there as though the rocks themselves weretransparent!

  Or were my senses tricking me? I whispered, "Is it back of therocks? Or is there a cave over there? An opening?"

  "Let's go see." Don took a step forward; and called again:

  "You--we see you. Stand still! Do you want me to fire at you?"

  The figure turned and again stood regarding us with folded arms.Obviously not Don's voice, but his movement, had stopped it. We leftthe path and climbed about ten feet up the broken cliff-side. Thefigure was at our level now, but it was within the rocks. We wereclose enough now to see other details: a man's white face, withheavy black brows, heavy features; a stalwart, giant figure, six anda half feet at the least. The white garment could have been of wovenmetal. I saw black, thread-like wires looped along the arms, overthe shoulders, down the sides of the muscular naked legs. Thereseemed, at the waist, a dial-face, with wires running into it.

  The details were so clear that they seemed substantial, real. Yetthe figure was so devoid of color that it could have been alight-image projected here upon these rocks. And the contour of thecliff was plainly visible in front of it.

  * * * * *

  We stood gazing at the thing, and it stared back at us.

  "Can you hear us?" Don called.

  Evidently it could not. Then a sardonic smile spread over the faceof the apparition. The lips moved. It said something to us, but weheard no sound.

  It was a wraith--this thing so
visibly real! It was apparently closeto us, yet there was a limitless, intervening void of the unknown.

  It stood still with folded arms across the brawny chest,sardonically regarding us. The face was strangely featured, yetwholly of human cast. And, above all, its aspect was strangely evil.Its gaze suddenly turned on Jane with a look that made my heart leapinto my throat and made me fling up my arms as though to protecther.

  Then seemingly it had contemplated us enough; the folded arms swungdown; it turned away from us, slowly stalking off.

  "Stop!" Don called.

  "See!" I whispered. "It's coming out in the open!"

  The invisible surface upon which it walked led it out from thecliff. The figure was stalking away from us in mid-air, and itseemed to fade slowly in the moonlight.

  "It's going!" I exclaimed. "Don, it's getting away!"

  Impulsively I started scrambling over the rocks; unreasoningly, forwho can chase and capture a ghost?

  Don stopped me. "Wait!" His shotgun went to his shoulders. The whiteshape was now again about fifty feet away. The gun blazed into themoonlight. The buckshot tore through the stalking white figure; themoonlit shorefront echoed with the shot.

  When the smoke cleared away, we saw the apparition still walkingquietly forward. Up over the sea now, up and out into the moonlitnight, growing smaller and dimmer in the distance, until presentlyit was faded and gone.

  A ghost?

  We thought so then.