Then he caught a surge of pure terror as he heard the door of her grotto — “room,” rather — opening. And he listened in on an auditory impression of two of the human-inhuman creatures entering.
“How’s our telepath today?” he heard one of them ask.
“We’re going to spend a little time with our eyes open, aren’t we?” the other added.
Jared sensed the awful fright lapping at Leah’s self-control as she cringed from the creatures.
As though the experience were his own, he felt her arm being seized in a firm grip. Then a sharp pain erupted in the flesh just above the right elbow. At the same time, he intercepted the psychic and sonic counterparts of her scream.
“There,” said one of the monsters. “That’ll help keep you from coming down with something.”
From somewhere in Jared’s material background came a distant zip-hiss. But he was too absorbed in what was happening to Kind Survivoress to give it more than superficial attention.
It had been periods now since the monsters had seized Leah. And he could only wonder what inconceivable torture they had put her through.
“How’s she doing?” asked the nearer creature, taking her Wrist in a gentle grip between thumb and forefinger.
“We’re having a rough time bringing her around. Seems to be immune to facts and logic.”
“We’ll just have to stick with it. Thorndyke says there was another telepath in our own complex two or three generations back. She was pretty sensitive too, but she didn’t have to put up with what this one’s going through.”
Jared felt a hand come to rest on Leah’s forehead and heard one c, the creatures say, “All right, now — let’s open our eyes.”
At that instant the strand of communicative contact snapped as unrestrained fear choked the woman.
Jared pushed a stone bench off his chest and sat up, feeling his head. There was a clot of blood embedded in his hair and, above it, a swelling of lacerated scalp.
He cast off more of the shack’s furnishings and rose. Although he snapped his fingers intently, he received but indistinct composites of the objects that had pinned him down, of the square pit which lay between him and the entrance.
Then, recalling the zip-hiss he had heard while in contact with Leah, he bolted outside.
There was no audible trace of Della’s breathing or heartbeat. He banged his fist against the side of the shack and wrung impressions out of the returning echoes. The ground in front of him was utterly bare.
Eventually he caught the scent, several hundred beats old, of the monsters that had passed. He knelt and swept the ground with his hands, exploring the spot where the girl had collapsed. The soft dust clearly bore the imprint of her body. But she had lain there so long ago that the surface had already given up the warmth it had captured from her.
Stunned, he trudged toward the Original World entrance. Della was gone — recaptured by the monsters who must have assumed she was the one who had made all the noise in the shack. And they had reclaimed her so long ago that now there was no hope of overtaking them before they reached Radiation.
What a bungling fool he was! As though his fortune had been graced by some power greater than Light, he had received a second chance even after having lost Della the first time. Against inconceivable odds, he had wrested her from her captors. But, instead of fleeing to remote seclusion, he had dawdled in the meaningless depths below this world — until the demons had gotten another opportunity to carry her off.
Bitter with self-reproach and bowed by an oppressive sense of futility, he paused in the corridor outside the Original World. The silence that extended toward Radiation was as thick as any he had ever heard. He tried not to think of the torment Leah was being subjected to, of the possibility that by now Della herself might be undergoing the same brutal indignities.
He took an uncertain step in that direction, then checked himself and listened helplessly down at his empty hands. Without weapons he could do nothing against the vicious forces of infinity.
But he could arm himself! If the Lower Level was as desolate as he had been led to believe, then he would probably meet little opposition on returning there. Possibly no one left in that world would even remember he was supposed to be a Zivver.
He gathered up a pair of stones and rattled them vigorously as he stepped off toward the Barrier and the worlds beyond. Now that he had finally committed himself to invading Radiation, he was surprised to find that the challenge did not, at the moment, impress him as being all that horrifying.
Click-click-click-click…
The echoes rebounding from the walls and obstacles of the passageway were bare and featureless and a growing tmcertainty slowed his pace. He could scarcely hear the details of the things about him!
Anxiously, he cupped a hand behind an ear. When that did no good, he extended the hand in front of him where its groping could supplement the inadequate auditory impressions.
He had practically no listening ability left at all! The memory of having received eye-stimulating composites in Radiation was so strong and vivid that he could barely hear the present sonic ones.
His next step sent his shin crashing against a minor outcropping and he went hobbling forward as he swore at his own clumsiness and deafness. He collided with a hanging stone, lost his balance and fell on the edge of a yawning pit.
Confounded, he picked himself up and went ahead even more slowly, shuffling each foot forward before putting his full weight on it.
He fought down a growing fear of the unbearable hazards, staying within arm’s reach of the right wall. And he listened suspiciously as he neared the area of the Barrier. He sensed more than heard that there was something out of place. He recognized what it was when he arrived at the spot where the obstruction of piled stones should have been. There he found nothing. The Nuclear demons had even destroyed the shield which protected the worlds from the evils of infinity. They had torn it down in order to remove the Survivors and animals. Faintly, he could smell the lingering scent of the latter in the corridor.
Tossing away his pebbles, he found two large rocks and clapped them resoundingly together again and again. But the reflections of even those vigorous clacks returned practically unmodified, bearing only the meagerest of impressions.
With the next frantic clap, the rocks crumbled in his fists, leaving him clutching only handfuls of dirt. Despondently, he unclenched his fingers and let the particles trickle from his grip. Light! But he couldn’t even hear the impact of the powder on the ground, much less the sound of its falling!
Frightened over his mounting incapacity, he floundered on. A few steps later he came up sharply against the right wall of the corridor and rebounded against a jagged stone formation, taking skin off his elbow.
Then he realized he was once more in the presence of Light.
The patch of silent sound clung to a rock up ahead, just like that other blotch of Light had covered the wall outside the Upper Level. Almost noiseless in volume, it filled the corridor with soft warmth.
Jared went ahead a bit more certainly, letting his eyes intercept the uncanny impressions of stone formations and hazards that were within range of the monster stuff.