HUNTERS
OUT OF
SPACE
By JOSEPH E. KELLEAM
ILLUSTRATED by FINLAY
CHAPTER 1
IN KANSAS, spring usually falls on the day before summer. Ithad been such a day, and now at midnight I was sitting at mydesk. Both hands of the clock were pointing to theceiling—and to the limitless stars beyond. My wife anddaughter had long been asleep. I had stayed up to write afew letters but it was not a night for working. Although itwas a bit chilly outside, the moon was bright and a bird wassinging a glad and plaintive song about the summer that wascoming and all the summers that had passed and all thatwould be. Adding, here[Pg 47]
[Pg 48]and there, a bit of melody about all the good things thathappen to birds and men without their knowing why.
Both hands of the clock were pointing upward. And I washalf-asleep, and half-dreaming. Remembering all the friendsI had—most of them scattered to the four winds by now. Andthat best friend of all, Doctor Jack Odin! I wondered wherehe was and how he had fared since he disappeared into thatdark cave in Texas.
Suddenly I became aware of a flickering light above me. Ilooked up. I had thought that the lights were winking, butthey were not. The room was lit by a reading lamp, and theceiling was so shadowy that at first I could see nothing atall. Then I saw the light—or the ghost of a light—gleamingfaintly upon—or through—the ceiling. It was the faintestyellow, neither a bull’s eye nor a splotch. Instead,it seemed to be a tiny whirlpool of movement—the faintestnebula in miniature with spirals of light swiftly circling acentral core. For a second I thought I could see through theroof, and the stars swarmed before me. It was as though Iwas at the vortex of a high whirlwind of dancing, shiningspecks of light. Then that sensation was gone, and therewere two faint coiling spirals of yellow light upon theceiling.
The lights began to whisper.
“We are Ato and Wolden,” they said.“Remember us?”
I remembered them from the notes that I had pieced togetherto tell the story of my old friend, Doctor Jack Odin, andhis adventure in the World of Opal. It seemed impolite totell them that we had never met. So I listened.
“Wolden’s work has succeeded,” thewhispering continued. “We have reduced time and spaceto nothing. You see us as lights, or as we once put it,‘as flame-winged butterflies,’ but we areneither. We are Ato and Wolden. By adding ourselves toanother dimension we are hardly recognizable to you.Actually, we are at our starting point billions of milesaway! We are traveling through space toward you at a speedwhich would make the speed of light look like a glow-wormcrawling across the dark ground; and at the same time, weare there in your room. Do you understand?”
I didn’t, but I have learned that a man can live quitecomfortably by merely keeping his mouth shut. So I keptstill.
My little daughter had been playing in the room before shehad unwillingly gone to bed. She had left a red rubber ballupon my desk.
“Look at the ball,” the voices whispered.“We will give you an idea of the time-space in whichwe live.”
I looked. Suddenly the little ball twitched, vanished andreappeared. I gazed in wonder. It had been red. Now it waswhite. I picked it up and a white powder[Pg 49]rubbe