Robson and I examined the device curiously, but could make nothing of it.
'I guess it's something to do with preservation,' he suggested vaguely, and turned his attention to the other contents.
Chapter Three
FROM OUT OF THE PAST
Many of the coffins enclosed not only trinkets and trappings upon the still forms, but also sheets of withered writing material covered with a quasi-pictorial script. This obviously must be collected, but since prolonged work in space-suits is inadvisable, we came to an arrangement of shifts. My turn came some six hours before sunset, and my companions were Jay Royden and Walter Greg, good men both.
We were not unduly depressed when we left the Scintilla's lock. My own earlier misgivings had all but disappeared under the cheering influence of the others, and if I thought at all, as we made for the vault entrance, it was of the good luck which had caused the Scintilla to have her misadventure here. But for that, we might never have seen the rock carvings.
The three of us were soon scrambling once more into the hewn tomb. For an hour or more we worked quietly. Necklaces, bangles, daggers and rings, which would soon be proudly shown in the museums of Earth, were methodically stripped from their owners' still forms. The Lunarians, it seemed, did not know clothes as we do. What little they wore was not for covering, but for ornament in the way of worked belts, intricate breastplates and the like.
Very soon our miscellaneous collection began to form a sizeable pile, and I decided that it would be more convenient to remove it from the chamber where we were working to a spot nearer the main entrance. Two journeys were necessary, and as I made the second. I came upon a sight which brought me up with a jerk. One of the coffins by my way lay open, and the inmate's hand rested on the edge... .
I stared in shocked horror. It had not lain so during my previous journey. I hurried past with a thumping, painful heart. I dropped my burden with the other plunder, and turned to scan the vault with the awful intensity of growing panic.
My ears strained to listen, though I was cut off from all external sounds. Something seemed to flicker just beyond the rays of my lamp. I jerked stiffly towards it. but the light showed nothing amiss. I turned on, scouring the place with my lamp. Nothing.... Nothing....
Then I looked back to the first corner. My arms fell weakly; my heart hammered in panic. A corpse sat upright in its coffin!
I must have cried out, for I heard Walter's voice in my receiver. 'What is it?' he was calling anxiously.
'Come here, quick,' was all I could manage.
The urgency in my voice started them without further question. I stood with my back to the main entrance and turned my light on the passage-mouth from which they must emerge. Something moved again outside the circle of light, but I dared not throw the rays upon it.
The two grotesque, space-suit-clad figures came hurrying into sight. As they saw me, Walter demanded again: 'What is it?'
I did not answer him; instead I shouted: 'Look out!' A dimly-seen shape was moving in the shadow behind them.
Walter snatched at his knife and made to turn, but swift as he was. he was too late.
A naked, brown arm came snaking over his shoulder. Its elbow crooked under the front of his helmet and dragged his head back. Another brown hand shot groping for his knife.
And even as Jay turned to help, another pair of brown arms came twining about him, and I had a glimpse of a slant-eyed face leering beyond.
The hand which sought Walter's knife tore it from his grasp. I could hear him grunt as he struggled to keep it. Then clearly through the microphone came a tearing sound, as the knife ripped the space-suit, and the following whistle of exhaling air. Walter gave one choking cry....
The whole affair had been too sudden for me to give any help. Before I could take more than a step, came a second tearing sound and I knew that Jay, too, was past help.
I stopped suddenly—no use to go on. Then I saw that the corpse which had caused my fright was no longer sitting—he was climbing out of his coffin, his face leering towards me. . . .
I turned and sprang for the open, racing for my life across the sea-bottom.
They didn't believe it. Already I had shown signs of queer behaviour, and now I was babbling fantastic nonsense. Dead men coming to life! Dead men fighting the living! Obviously, my brain was turned.
The doctor attempted to soothe me. Robson vainly attempted to reach Walter and Jay on the radio. There was an odd expression on his face when he turned back to look at me.
'Can't raise them,' he said. 'Something's certainly wrong. Do you think―?' He broke off and nodded suggestively towards me. The rest looked serious. They did not put their thoughts into words, but they were plain enough on their faces. Three men alone—and one of them a madman!
Two volunteered to go out and search. The rest began to help them into their space-suits. I begged and besought them not to go, but they only cursed me for getting in their way. Others dragged me back and held me penned in a corner.
'Good God, you fools,' I raged at them, 'wouldn't they have called you if I'd run amuck like you think? Can't you see that I'm telling you the truth? If you go over there, they'll get you, you fools—you bloody fools! They'll get you!'
Nobody gave me a scrap of attention. The men were clad and their helmets affixed. As they left the air-lock, Robson switched on the radio to keep in communication. My anger passed as I helplessly watched them trudge towards the search-lit cliff-face. Nothing I could do would save them now.
We saw them pause by the open stone door and heard their voices in the speaker as they settled who should take the lead. Then they disappeared. For a few seconds there was nothing but the sound of breathing. Suddenly a voice with a tinge of nervousness spoke.
'What was that? Something moved.'
'Nothing,' answered the other. For our benefit, he added: 'We are just climbing over the remains of the second door— now we're in the vault. There's—God, what's that?'
His voice was suddenly shrill—and then it broke. 'Quick, out of this, quick, man—back, for Heaven's sake!' After that it was a jumble—hard breathing mingled with odd phrases. '—dozens of 'em.' '—got him.' 'Keep together.' Then: 'Look out, he's got a knife!' Horror-stricken, we heard the sound of stout cloth ripped asunder—gasping cries. After that, all was silent....
My companions turned wondering eyes upon me, full of uneasy fears. Robson murmured something which might have been an apology. He begged for the whole story. I told him as calmly as I could all that I knew.
He found it meagre. 'Have you any theories?' he demanded.
I had been thinking, but I hesitated. 'It's rather a fantastic theory,' I admitted.
'Of course it is! The whole thing's fantastic. Let's have it.'
'You remember what happened when we opened the coffins? A globe of something dropped and smashed. Then, too, there were those glass needles.... There must have been a purpose behind them.'
Robson looked hard at me. 'You mean that the needles might have been some kind of hypodermic?'
'Something of the sort,' I nodded.
'And that they revived what we thought were corpses?'
'There were the glass globes, too,' I reminded him.