The Red Journey Back Read Online Free PDF

almost sinister . . . then I swam deep into the blackness
of utter insensibility. I remembered one thing more through the moment’s sharp
pain: the quiet gentleness of our previous landing—the twilight of the early
Martian dawn—the soft cool breeze which had assailed us as we opened the rocket
entrance port—the peaceful glory at last of the bright clear sunlight as we
stepped for the first time in all human experience on the alien
soil. . . .

    We were
confident: too confident!
    We landed on
Mars indeed—as successfully as on the previous occasion. The two stocky landing
wings shot out from the back of the rocket at a point near the nose, and with
their help we coasted gently through the sparse atmosphere to a final
standstill.
    Again, as on
the first occasion, there was a deep twilight in the little cabin as we
struggled to our feet, adjusting ourselves to the sensation of having weight
once more—less weight than on Earth, but still weight.
    “The dawn,”
breathed Mac triumphantly. “The dawn, Steve! Exactly as it was last time. Home
again—home!”
    He stumbled
blithely toward the double air-lock door in the cabin’s side. I stood
unsteadily for a moment, aware once more—and uneasily, for some reason—of the
strange yellow tinge which intershot the dusk surrounding. I recalled a
conversation with an astronomer friend back on Earth, who had asked me half-jokingly
(for he was one of the doubters who plagued us after the first trip) if, during
our sojourn on the Angry Planet, we had encountered any of the strange
phenomena known to Earth observers as the “Yellow Clouds”—great blankets of
some kind of yellowish mist sweeping rapidly across the Martian surface,
plainly visible even on photographs taken in infra-red light.
    An instinctive
fear made me raise my hand to restrain my adventuresome companion. But with the
memory of our previous successful landing still bright in him, he was already
at the double doors and tugging them open.
    The first door
swung back with a metallic crash—Mac, in his enthusiasm, had forgotten his
increased Martian strength. An instant later the second door also swung
open—outward; and even allowing for Mac’s strength it was as if it had been
ripped away from the rocket’s side by a giant swift hand the instant the lock
was released. . . .
    We landed on
Mars—but not quietly and serenely as we had landed last time!
    For one
moment—one nightmare moment—I saw my dear friend Andrew McGillivray outlined
against a thick swirling screen of brilliant yellow. He screamed—I heard him
scream. I rushed forward in a panic. As I approached the door I felt my lungs
bursting, my eyes smarting, my whole skin in a violent irritation from the few
wisps of the raging Yellow Cloud which penetrated the double doors.
    I stretched
out my hands desperately to assist my poor friend, in the midst of the typhoon
while I was at its bitter edges only. But it was as if he too had been snatched
by giant hands—he seemed veritably to fly, to soar into the bright yellow
horror swirling all about our ship.
     

    It
was as if he too had been snatched by giant hands.
     
    “Mac—Mac!” I
cried, my eyes streaming.
    But the
monstrous pall was silent. I realized that all was lost—we were both lost—if I
made any attempt as yet to follow and save my friend. Somehow, almost maddened
as I was by the violent pain of the cloud’s irritation, I fought to close the
inner door—did close it at last and fell back gasping, weeping, helpless into
the cabin.
    I recovered
from the first pain—staggered to my feet and crossed to one of the portholes.
From within, the cloud was darker—and I realized bitterly that the dusk had
been caused by a thin deposit of it on the glass of the portholes as we had
raced through the Martian atmosphere. Outside was no night, as on the previous
occasion, but bright day; yet a bright day filled with the monstrous silent
menace of that hideous Cloud!
    I peered