The Lost World MEGAPACK®. Lin Carter

now? You could pick them off one by one—”

      “No. If I tried that, they would radio to the plane. They are always in radio contact. The men at the plane—perhaps three or four men left on guard—would then know of an invisible man. They’d plan against me.

      “I’ve seen enough of fifth column methods to know it’s a mistake to underestimate them. They’re not brainless, blundering gangsters. They’re intelligent, clever, efficient to the highest degree.”

      His voice became low, thoughtful. “We have a tough fight ahead of us—to escape them. They’ll come back next with light field guns, perhaps, hurling shells from a mile or two back.”

      “Good Lord!” shuddered Dr. Damon. “Just like the war in Europe—machines against men. We haven’t a ghost of a chance of holding out!”

      A pair of invisible fingers snapped. “We have one good chance. Their whole mission is to bring back the secret of invisibility. Suppose we spill all the blood samples, and then let them know that Harlan will be killed by us.

      “They might be willing to bargain for his life, since they would lose time starting at scratch again. One of the fifth column’s main creeds is speed, speed. Let’s talk to Harlan.”

      “Spill the samples—no!” Dr. Daman almost shouted it. “I won’t allow it. I—”

      Crane could feel the invisible man’s cold stare at the scientist.

      “Have you thought of invisible fifth columnists, Dr. Damon? They would have a noose around America before we could say mechanized unit! They must not get that secret!”

      Damon gasped. “Invisible fifth columnists!” He made no further objections.

      Pierre swung open the barred door.

      “Come out, Harlan,” Crane commanded. “We want to talk to you.”

      There was no answer. Crane repeated his words, then stepped in impatiently.

      “If I have to drag you out, like a stubborn child—”

      His voice ground to a startled halt.

      The interior of the cave-space was empty! The others crowded in, gaping. Harlan was simply not there, only his clothing piled in a heap.

      “How could he have escaped?” Crane said dazedly. “Through solid log walls and a barred door?”

      Jondra screamed. “That shadow at the door—”

      They whirled. Something shadowy and vague was plunging through the doorway. It was in the shape of a man.

      “Harlan!”

      Crane leaped, but something shouldered him aside at the door. The Invisible Robin Hood had leaped first, and was chasing the escaping man.

      Running outside, the rest saw only a translucent silhouette racing away into the forest, pursued by something they could not see at all.

      Five minutes later the Invisible Robin Hood’s voice sounded before them, panting.

      “Got away. Wasn’t quite invisible, but in the sunlight it was like keeping your eye on a flitting shadow. I lost him.”

      “He injected some of the blood solution into his veins!” Dr. Damon cried. “I should have known he’d try it. The invisibility hormone is so powerful it works within an hour. He’ll be completely invisible soon, and stay that way till the dose wears off—probably twenty-four hours.”

      “An invisible man against us!” Jondra whispered.

      Crane looked at the Invisible Robin Hood—or the spot he occupied. “That complicates matters. Harlan, invisible, can come sneaking back and—”

      He didn’t finish the sentence. It would sound too horrible to say it. But suddenly he did say it, in altered form.

      “Why not sneak to their camp and murder them in their sleep?” he demanded. “Every minute that goes by endangers us. And all America! You’re invisible. They can’t touch you. Take a gun and shoot them down like they would have shot us down.

      “I know it won’t be an easy thing to do. Any decent man’s soul revolts at being a cowardly assassin. But you’ve got to, Robin Hood. It’s the only way!”

      The others looked at each other, shuddering. It was a stark, merciless suggestion. The height, perhaps, of sheer deliberate murder. But the stakes were equally in proportion.

      There was silence from the Invisible Robin Hood for a long moment. Then a deep, grim sigh.

      “Give me a rifle and twelve bullets,” he said.

      A moment later he was gone, as unseen and silent as the wind.

      CHAPTER VIII

      Under Fire

      Crane said little to Jondra as they waited, his arm across her shoulder. Dr. Damon seemed to find the ground interesting. Pierre stared out over the invisible forest, his black eyes enigmatic as always.

      They strained their ears to hear shots. The shots that would announce human beings murdered without a chance, by an invisible assassin. It was a grim, soul-searing game that was being played out in a sunken valley, far north of the teeming cities of America.

      Crane started. A twig had crackled, somewhere out at the fringe of the invisible forest. He jumped up. Their invisible friend was returning.

      “Robin Hood? You—”

      A shot rang out. The bullet whistled past Crane’s ear and thunked into the logs behind.

      Jondra screamed. “Look there—a gun pointing at us!”

      Two hundred feet ahead, a gun hung in the air.

      “Harlan!” groaned Dr. Damon. “He’s invisible now and he’ll kill us!”

      Another shot split the air, as they all leaped for the cave door. Harlan, a poor shot, had missed again. But if he pumped shots at their massed group, entering the doorway, he couldn’t fail to get one or two. Then he would stalk them inside, shoot them down one by one…

      Even as he ducked and whirled, Crane saw what happened. Something wrenched the gun from Harlan’s hands. It swung around as a club. It whacked against an invisible tree, the stock shattering. For a moment it hung, then began moving toward them, at the pace of a man walking.

      The battle of the invisible men had been short.

      “Did you get him, Robin Hood?” Crane queried eagerly.

      “No.” The bodiless voice was weary, defeated. “I tried to club him, but he slipped away. He’s completely invisible now. And that’s why I failed in everything…”

      “Failed? You didn’t get the other men?”

      Again a weary, “No.”

      “Everything seemed perfect,” the voice went on. “The men were all outside the plane—ten of them altogether. Creeping close, I shot one.” He seemed to shudder a little.

      “But when I aimed for the second, a shot rang back. Harlan had been expecting me. Guessing my position by the hang of the visible rifle, he could get me eventually, poor shot though he is. I couldn’t get him. He was behind the plane.

      “There was only one thing to do. I had to drop my giveaway—the rifle—and leave. Still, I hung around a few minutes, debating some other plan. For instance, using a grenade, and blasting plane and all apart.

      “Suddenly, it came to me like a blow. Harlan now knew I was there. Therefore he would run to this camp and murder you, not having me to fear. He could do his job much quicker than I could do mine, and still have time to return and rescue whatever men remained. That’s how the fifth columnists figure those things—in plain, cold, emotionless figures.

      “I guess I came back just in time, running all the way. Harlan’s first