The Ray Cummings MEGAPACK ®: 25 Golden Age Science Fiction and Mystery Tales. Ray Cummings

“Hit him, boy, what’s the use of waiting; he’s growing.”

      The lizard was nearly a foot long now, and struggling violently between the Doctor’s fingers.

      “You’d better kill him,” said the Doctor, “he might get away from me.” The Very Young Man obediently brought his weapon down with a thump upon the reptile’s head.

      “Keep on,” said the Banker. “Be sure he’s dead.”

      The Very Young Man pounded the quivering body for a moment. The Big Business Man handed him a napkin from the tray and the Very Young Man wrapped up the lizard and threw it into the waste-basket.

      Then he rose to his feet and tossed the paper-weight on to the desk with a crash.

      “Well, gentlemen,” he said, turning back to them with flushed face, “those drugs sure do work. We’re going into the ring all right, three weeks from tonight, and nothing on earth can stop us.”

      CHAPTER 11

      THE ESCAPE OF THE DRUG

      For the next hour the four friends busily planned their preparations for the journey. When they began to discuss the details of the trip, and found themselves face to face with so hazardous an adventure, each discovered a hundred things in his private life that needed attention.

      The Doctor’s phrase, “My patients can go to the devil,” seemed to relieve his mind of all further responsibility towards his personal affairs.

      “That’s all very well for you,” said the Big Business Man, “I’ve too many irons in the fire just to drop everything—there are too many other people concerned. And I’ve got to plan as though I were never coming back, you know.”

      “Your troubles are easy,” said the Very Young Man. “I’ve got a girl. I wonder what she’ll say. Oh, gosh, I can’t tell her where I’m going, can I? I never thought of that.” He scratched his head with a perplexed air. “That’s tough on her. Well, I’m glad I’m an orphan, anyway.”

      The actual necessities of the trip needed a little discussion, for what they could take with them amounted to practically nothing.

      “As I understand it,” said the Banker, “all I have to do is watch you start, and then take the ring back to the Museum.”

      “Take it carefully,” continued the Very Young Man. “Remember what it’s got in it.”

      “You will give us about two hours to get well started down,” said the Doctor. “After that it will be quite safe to move the ring. You can take it back to the Society in that case I brought it here in.”

      “Be sure you take it yourself,” put in the Very Young Man. “Don’t trust it to anybody else. And how about having that wire rack fixed for it at the Museum,” he added. “Don’t forget that.”

      “I’ll have that done myself this week,” said the Doctor.

      They had been talking for perhaps an hour when the Banker got up from his chair to get a fresh cigar from a box that lay upon the desk. He happened to glance across the room and on the floor in the corner by the closed door he saw a long, flat object that had not been there before. It was out of the circle of light and being brown against the polished hardwood floor, he could not make it out clearly. But something about it frightened him.

      “What’s that over there?” he asked, standing still and pointing.

      The Big Business Man rose from his seat and took a few steps in the direction of the Banker’s outstretched hand. Then with a muttered oath he jumped to the desk in a panic and picking up the heavy paper-weight flung it violently across the room. It struck the panelled wall with a crash and bounded back towards him. At the same instant there came a scuttling sound from the floor, and a brown shape slid down the edge of the room and stopped in the other corner.

      All four men were on their feet in an instant, white-faced and trembling.

      “Good God,” said the Big Business Man huskily, “that thing over there—that—”

      “Turn on the side lights—the side lights!” shouted the Doctor, running across the room.

      In the glare of the unshaded globes on the wall the room was brightly lighted. On the floor in the corner the horrified men saw a cockroach nearly eighteen inches in length, with its head facing the angle of wall, and scratching with its legs against the base board as though about to climb up. For a moment the men stood silent with surprise and terror. Then, as they stared they saw the cockroach was getting larger. The Big Business Man laid his hand on the Doctor’s arm with a grip that made the Doctor wince.

      “Good God, man, look at it—it’s growing,” he said in a voice hardly above a whisper.

      “It’s growing,” echoed the Very Young Man; “it’s growing!”

      And then the truth dawned upon them, and brought with it confusion, almost panic. The cockroach, fully two feet long now, had raised the front end of its body a foot above the floor, and was reaching up the wall with its legs.

      The Banker made a dash for the opposite door. “Let’s get out of here. Come on!” he shouted.

      The Doctor stopped him. Of the four men, he was the only one who had retained his self-possession.

      “Listen to me,” he said. His voice trembled a little in spite of his efforts to control it. “Listen to me. That—that—thing cannot harm us yet.” He looked from one to the other of them and spoke swiftly. “It’s gruesome and—and loathsome, but it is not dangerous—yet. But we cannot run from it. We must kill it—here, now, before it gets any larger.”

      The Banker tore himself loose and started again towards the door.

      “You fool!” said the Doctor, with a withering look. “Don’t you see, it’s life or death later. That—that thing will be as big as this house in half an hour. Don’t you know that? As big as this house. We’ve got to kill it now—now.”

      The Big Business Man ran towards the paper-weight. “I’ll hit it with this,” he said.

      “You can’t,” said the Doctor, “you might miss. We haven’t time. Look at it,” he added.

      The cockroach was noticeably larger now—considerably over two feet; it had turned away from the wall to face them.

      The Very Young Man had said nothing; only stood and stared with bloodless face and wide-open eyes. Then suddenly he stooped, and picking up a small rug from the floor—a rug some six feet long and half as wide—advanced slowly towards the cockroach.

      “That’s the idea,” encouraged the Doctor. “Get it under that. Here, give me part of it.” He grasped a corner of the rug. “You two go up the other sides”—he pointed with his free hand—“and head it off if it runs.”

      Slowly the four men crept forward. The cockroach, three feet long now, was a hideous, horrible object as it stood backed into the corner of the room, the front part of its body swaying slowly from side to side.

      “We’d better make a dash for it,” whispered the Very Young Man; and jerking the rug loose from the Doctor’s grasp, he leaped forward and flung himself headlong upon the floor, with the rug completely under him.

      “I’ve got the damned thing. I’ve got it!” he shouted. “Help—you. Help!”

      The three men leaped with him upon the rug, holding it pinned to the floor. The Very Young Man, as he lay, could feel the curve of the great body underneath, and could hear the scratch of its many legs upon the floor.

      “Hold down the edges of the rug!” he cried. “Don’t let it out. Don’t let it get out. I’ll smash it.” He raised himself on his hands and knees, and came down heavily. The rug gave under his thrust as the insect flattened out; then they could hear again the muffled scratching of its legs upon the floor as it raised the rug up under the Very Young Man’s weight.