DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Paradox, v. 1, issue 2, Fall 1942

Transcribe
Translate

Paradox, v. 1, issue 2, Fall 1942

Page 13

PARADOX                                              13 
                            EPITAPH
                           BY CURTIS CARLYLE
   The wind blew chill across Perry Lake. Saturnian dust orbs wafted themselves across the dry plain to the setting sun. Somewhere in the distance the banshee howl of a starving Saur-beast, as the Saturnian creatures were called, echoed across the saffron haze of the dust. All was still, but in the grey fortress that was perched on the steep incline near 
the precious lake, life was. Or what remained of life.
   "John," the bearded figure whispered in the darkness of what had once been a chart-room. "John, where are you? Hohn! Come out; it is only I, Ansel, you old Sergeant. Please, John, please don't hide."
   The tattered figure stopped crawling as it struck something. That something was the remnants of a man. The first Saturnian moon to rise, Titan, cast little light on the figure, but Ansel knew instinctively who it was. He stopped whimpering the name of John and rested there sobbing. The light shone on his unshaven face, his haggard and tired face. His beard grew long and hung over his uncovered shoulders. Long and scrawny legs stretched from under the clothing that barely covered his legs. And with the cold Saturnian night nearing, he would again shiver in some somber corner.
   Ansel's pouched eyes gleamed in the half-light as he commenced his slow and tedious crawling to the last water that remained in the fortress. If his legs were not broken and the Saur-beasts were not so vicious, he might--might--get to the lake. But help would come soon. It must. It must!
   He spared no curses on the mad Martians who had raided the outpost so treacherously. His groping hand came in contact with a pool of dried blood and he drew it back instinctively. Ansel knew that Captain Brown's body was near this pool of blood, for two night and days in the chart-room had taught him every nook and corner of the room. Ansel snickered. For it was Captain Brown himself who had warned the stuffed shirts back  on Earth of the danger of the Martian invasion. But they had just swittered and scoffed; Mars was at peace with Earth. And besides, what had they to fear from little Mars? And even if the attack did come off, who would they lose other than about a hundred space-men. Space-men were a dime a dozen. A few weeks of conditioning for the atmosphere that they were to live in, and that was all. So why worry?
   Ansel reached the last of his precious water and strained upward to reach the broken cup that he used to drink out of. Carefully he poured out a half of a glass, and equally carefully he replaced the few remaining drops. Eagerly he swallowed it, gulping it in great swallows. As he started back across to his makeshift bed, he was startled by sounds outside. They sounded almost--almost like the sound that a

Saving...

PARADOX 13 EPITAPH BY CURTIS CARLYLE The wind blew chill across Perry Lake. Saturnian dust orbs wafted themselves across the dry plain to the setting sun. Somewhere in the distance the banshee howl of a starving Saur-beast, as the Saturnian creatures were called, echoed across the saffron haze of the dust. All was still, but in the grey fortress that was perched on the steep incline near the precious lake, life was. Or what remained of life. "John," the bearded figure whispered in the darkness of what had once been a chart-room. "John, where are you? Hohn! Come out; it is only I, Ansel, you old Sergeant. Please, John, please don't hide." The tattered figure stopped crawling as it struck something. That something was the remnants of a man. The first Saturnian moon to rise, Titan, cast little light on the figure, but Ansel knew instinctively who it was. He stopped whimpering the name of John and rested there sobbing. The light shone on his unshaven face, his haggard and tired face. His beard grew long and hung over his uncovered shoulders. Long and scrawny legs stretched from under the clothing that barely covered his legs. And with the cold Saturnian night nearing, he would again shiver in some somber corner. Ansel's pouched eyes gleamed in the half-light as he commenced his slow and tedious crawling to the last water that remained in the fortress. If his legs were not broken and the Saur-beasts were not so vicious, he might--might--get to the lake. But help would come soon. It must. It must! He spared no curses on the mad Martians who had raided the outpost so treacherously. His groping hand came in contact with a pool of dried blood and he drew it back instinctively. Ansel knew that Captain Brown's body was near this pool of blood, for two night and days in the chart-room had taught him every nook and corner of the room. Ansel snickered. For it was Captain Brown himself who had warned the stuffed shirts back on Earth of the danger of the Martian invasion. But they had just swittered and scoffed; Mars was at peace with Earth. And besides, what had they to fear from little Mars? And even if the attack did come off, who would they lose other than about a hundred space-men. Space-men were a dime a dozen. A few weeks of conditioning for the atmosphere that they were to live in, and that was all. So why worry? Ansel reached the last of his precious water and strained upward to reach the broken cup that he used to drink out of. Carefully he poured out a half of a glass, and equally carefully he replaced the few remaining drops. Eagerly he swallowed it, gulping it in great swallows. As he started back across to his makeshift bed, he was startled by sounds outside. They sounded almost--almost like the sound that a