Primal Spillane Read online

  With its stomach filled, the monster extended its heavy arms, drew in a blob of water, and forced it out. Lazily the squid moved off to find a resting place. A rock jutted from the bottom. Seeking the protection of the shadow, the octopus slid into the dark spot and folded its arms in. The other creatures of the deep knew that they were safe now, and flitted about in the dark waters in their never-ending serrate for food.

  Suddenly, there was the far away sound as if two giants were fighting. Then the water shivered violently under a backbreaking impulse. An invisible wave surged forward, carrying a cloud of sand from the bottom and a horde of mutilated bodies of fish. Again the deep-throated roar boomed through the sea bottom. Faster they came. Clouds of fish scurried before the invisible onslaught, anxious to escape the death.

  QUIVERING slightly, the octopus eased from the protection of the rock. For a moment he attempted to understand what was happening, and looked about for the enemy. Seeing none, he was about to shoot forward. Another blast! The concussion blew him back many yards. Without a backward look the squid followed the rest of the fish in their flight. There was no thought of the hunt now, only a desire to get away from the rending force.

  A short while later the sounds grew fainter, then stopped altogether. The squid settled down into the shadows again. The commotion in the water ceased with the sounds. Fish went back to their eating and playing. Others came by and caught them while they fed. Things were normal once more.

  Then … sliding slowly through the blackness came an even darker shape. Its body was smooth, save for a peculiar projection on its top. Fins protruded from the front and rear, moving occasionally to alter the course of the strange creature. Beneath the rear fins a shiny object whirled about, gradually slowing down. Then the motion ceased. The object developed into a twisted, three bladed, propelling fin.

  This much the squid saw. His tiny brain could not see it to be a metal monster unlike the other fish in his world, nor did he recognize the sharp-angled insignia of the Nazi cross. This was another enemy to be destroyed! Noiselessly, he slid alongside the craft. Then could the true size of the octopus be seen, for he was almost half as long as the entire length of the sub.

  Once again the mighty arms went out. They wrapped themselves around the metal body and squeezed, but there was no response. Amazed because the thing made no attempt to fight back, he sent out a cautious tentacle to explore. A tip fastened on the pole-like rod above. A yank and it came free. Someone in the sub felt a movement, an eye went to the porthole in the conning tower. The sight of the squid held the man speechless, then he fell screaming into the hold.

  The motors started with a roar. Seeing that his prey was struggling to get loose, the giant octopus held tighter. The fins went up, the sub pushed ahead. Immediately a tentacle went to the fin and ripped it loose. Bubbles foamed out of the hole it left. Then the rear fins waggled back and forth. Again an arm shot out and pulled.

  But the tip of the tentacle hit the spinning propeller! The end snipped neatly off, and floated away with the current. Pain shot up the long arm. The octopus rocked the sub to and fro. Two huge tentacles fastened about the conning tower and tightened in their effort to kill the enemy. Men inside ran about in fright. Compartments were shut off to keep out the water leaking in from the fin holes. They had dodged the depth bombs successfully … only to run into this.

  TIGHTER and tighter grew the death grip of the octopus. The great muscles in his tentacles strained with the effort. There was a spurt of bubbles from the nose of the sub, and a long, fish-like thing shot out. A hundred yards off it hit a rock, and a tremendous explosion tore the ocean apart, throwing fish, weeds and sand over the dark bottom. But the liquid-like octopus remained untouched. His fury, however, grew more intense, his arms squeezed tighter!

  Another form shot from the nose of the sub. The men inside were doing everything to dislodge the monster. The second projectile, too, exploded against the rock, and it was that which spelled the end for the sub. The crush of the water forced open a seam, the plates started to buckle. The octopus felt it giving, and he squeezed even tighter than before!

  With a tearing of metal, the conning tower was pulled inward. The two arms around it threshed to get a firmer hold. Suction cups gripped with all the great might of the squid’s arms. Another wrench, and the tower came half off! All around, bubbles foamed to the surface. Water poured in every little hole.

  Then the sides gave! Slowly at first, like the jaws of the clam, then faster and faster! The sub was a shapeless mass now, like a balloon tied in the middle. With every new hug the metal walls went in further, the terrific water pressure aiding the octopus in his struggle. Men who killed ruthlessly were trapped by a terror greater than they had ever created. They watched the water stream in, and were helpless to prevent it.

  Several times the squid tried to use his beak, but it was no use. He put forth one last, mighty effort … and the sub crushed in like a paper bag! Slowly the octopus released the pressure. He knew the enemy was done for. But such a strange enemy, impossible to eat! The giant of the under-sea slid off into the ooze of the sea floor to rest. The enemy was dead!

  ***

  Woe is Me

  JOUNCING along like a bean on a balloon, the jeep took the bumpy dirt road in stride. Sitting next to the driver, hanging on to the seat with one hand and his bass horn with the other, Jimmy Hoople breathed big gasps of air, between bumps. “Hey, for Pete’s sake, will you take it easy!”

  “Whassa matter?” the driver hollered back. “Can’t ya take it?”

  “Yeah, I can, but Lulu here can’t. She’s getting knocked fulla bumps and I gotta play at the General’s concert tonight! Slow down!”

  “Bah!” said the driver, and just to show how what a corporal thought of a twirp that played in the band, pushed down a little harder on the gas. Poor Lulu, her brass sides looked like they were through combat maneuvers. Every three seconds there would be a loud “bong” as she hit the dashboard to an accompanying groan by Private Hoople.

  At eight P.M. that night the General himself was visiting the camp, and in his honor the band was putting on a gala concert. But the members of the brass section were the last ones notified. They were out digging holes for communication lines all day and had to be rounded up like steers. Jimmy Hoople thought he’d be glad to have a rest from his shovel, but now he wasn’t so sure. And to make matters worse he had dragged Lulu along to toot a few notes between holes and now look at her. The horn was a sorry looking thing, covered with dust and dents. It was bad enough when the fellows ribbed him about it looking like a sound detecting device … but now it resembled a battered garbage pail!

  Darkness was beginning to close in swiftly, and the sky darkened with nasty black clouds. Horse Williams, the driver, gave them an anxious glance and sent the jeep shooting ahead. What a time to get caught in a thunderstorm! Jimmy said nothing and held on. The General expected a concert and he’d get one!

  FIFTEEN MILES to go! The jeep skidded around a turn, then forged ahead. They approached an intersection that cut into the road they were on and Jimmy pointed a shaking finger toward it. “Car cutting in.” Horse nodded and stepped on it a bit. The driver of the other car tried to do the same thing, and what happened would make a junkyard owner shout for joy. Both hit the same spot at the same time with the noise of ten tanks hitting a stone wall!

  Jimmy and Horse saw it coming and gave one mighty leap that carried them into the dirt. Jimmy clutching Lulu for all he was worth! The jeep and the other car hit with a crash and both cars tumbled over into the dust. With his head sticking through the bass horn, Jimmy and Horse took one look at the staff flags on the other car’s crumpled fenders and almost passed out.

  A very battered, mustached gentleman crawled out, his hat over one eye. The seat of his pants flew like a flag on a pole, while his tunic hung in shreds. But still intact on his shoulders were the four gold stars.

  “Oh, my gosh!” Horse wailed. “The General! We’ve wrecked
’im!”

  “YOU!” bellowed the General. “I’ll skin you alive for this! Where do you think you were going! I’ll have your heads nailed to a pole! You’ll do KP for a month of Sundays! I’ll … I’ll … Poosh!” He blew dirt and grass out of his mustache and tried to cover his exposed dignity with his hat. Man … was he mad!

  Then it started to rain. For five weeks the sun had shone, and the moon was bright; now it had to rain. If ever two soldiers got themselves in a mess, this was it.

  “Get up, you ninnys! Get me a canvas, I’m getting wet!”

  Horse and Jimmy jumped up and ran to the wrecked touring car, out of which was crawling a very mean-looking Sergeant with an evil glint in his eye. Jimmy dropped Lulu and he and Horse grabbed the top of the car and pulled. It would have been all right if they had unhooked the canvas top first, but no … it peeled off like a banana skin.

  The General said some of the things the top Sergeant does when the boys forgot which was their left flank and marched the wrong way. He picked up an axle and advanced on them threateningly. “Get me out of this … OR I’LL WRING YOUR NECKS!”

  By now the Sergeant was on his feet ready to sock somebody. The rain poured down harder than ever, making slop out of the dirt road, and huge puddles of the fields. To one side of the road the little half-dried up stream that barely trickled along a half-hour ago was roaring past, taking out big chunks of the bank. Now it was overflowing onto the road.

  “G-General,” said Horse, “we’d better get outa here. The river’s coming up and we gotta cross it further on.”

  “Really?” muttered the General. Then he screamed out, “Naturally we have to! Fifteen miles to the camp where I’m supposed to listen to a concert. No car, raining cats and dogs, the river’s coming up … oh, you beetle brains!” He wrapped the hunks of canvas about his exposed parts and the four started down the road. Jimmy clutched Lulu, patting her like a kitten, giving Horse dirty looks for all this trouble.

  He hadn’t taken more than a few steps when he got the bright idea of pepping up the morale with a few toots of the horn. He put Lulu to his lips and blew … and a miniature Niagara spouted out of the bell and splashed down the General’s neck.

  Woe!

  The General grabbed Jimmy by the neck with one hand then rammed Lulu over Jimmy’s head. “Why you … Is there anything that you can do right! Not bad enough to have it rain … now you pour water down my neck! Just wait until we get to camp!”

  “Can I shoot ’em, huh?” the Sergeant said quickly, “Please?”

  “We’ll see. I was reserving that pleasure for myself!”

  Horse and Jimmy started to shake like leaves in a hurricane. After Jimmy Hoople wrenched the horn off his head he got a little sore. After all, they couldn’t help it because their car ran into the General’s. And they didn’t bring on the rain. Fooey on the General, let him be sore. They came to the banks of the river where it crossed the road, took one look and gasped.

  A raging torrent crossed their path, carrying with it trees and chicken coops from which hens cackled gaily. Those hens must have been half duck.

  The General tapped the Sergeant. “Maybe you can think up a way out of this … you used to be with the engineers.”

  But the Sergeant just shook his head. Hoople had the brilliant flash of an idea then.

  “General, this river goes right past the camp. Why don’t we float down? We could snare a couple of hencoops or something and make a raft!”

  Horse sneered, the Sergeant sneered, but the General looked glum.

  “I don’t care what we do. I just don’t want to stay here all night. Do something, do ANYTHING!”

  So the three got busy dragging out a lot of hunks of wood and tying them into a semblance of a raft. Chickens fluttered all over the place, squawking at being thrown from their perches. Finally they had a crude gadget assembled, and they got on. Jimmy held Lulu carefully, overlooking the nasty glances of the others. That horn could get a guy into more trouble …

  BAM! The raft hit the bank. SLOSH! Water splashed all over everybody. WHAM! It hit a chickencoop and the fowls flew all over the place. One landed in the General’s lap and pecked at his nose.

  “Ow! Get those things out of here!”

  The men leaped to obey, but only succeeded in getting pecked themselves, so they had to share their raft with a pack of supper bait.

  “There’s the camp!” Jimmy pointed Lulu toward the lights ahead. The place rushed toward them. At the sped they were going they’d never stop anywhere near it.

  Horse was worried. “Whatta we gonna do?”

  “I got it!” Jimmy answered.

  Lulu came up to his mouth again … only this time the General ducked back. Jimmy gave out a deep “BOOMPH BAHAA” warbled out of Lulu’s throat. Again and again he tooted the horn until he thought that his lungs would come out, too.

  “This is terrible,” wailed the General. “They can’t hear us!”

  Jimmy tooted some more. Suddenly out of nowhere an alert sentry appeared on the bank.

  “Halt! Who goes there! Stop, or I’ll shoot!”

  “What do you mean, stop? We can’t stop!” yelled back the General. “Get me off here or I’ll have your neck!”

  But the sentry must have thought the Japs had landed. BANG! BANG! BANG! Bullets skipped off the water.

  “You did this to me!” shouted the General, from flat on his stomach.

  The men groaned. Suddenly the raft went CRRASH! Splinters flew … so did the General. Chickens filled the air. The sentry ran down and put them all under guard. Fortunately, the General still had the stars on his shoulders, and when the sentry saw that after shooting at him …

  MEN CAME UP. All Horse and Jimmy could do was splutter. The General was hustled off to change his clothes, while the rest went ahead to the recreation hall. Jimmy held tightly to Lulu and ran inside out of the rain. Soon the men and officers gathered and a refreshed General took his seat in the front row, glaring at the soggy Jimmy Hoople on the platform. Jimmy was thinking fast. Perhaps, if he put on a good show, the General wouldn’t be so mad any more.

  Jimmy stepped forward to the edge of the platform for his solo. So far things were going fine … the General was smiling. The music started … this was his first number … he’d better be good. Lulu’s mouthpiece went to his lips. He blew. He blew harder. Nothing came out … Then he blew as hard as he could … and an egg plopped out … flew through the air … and landed square on the General’s head …!

  Oh, woe!

  ***

  Spook Ship

  SHADED by a light curtain of mist, the round dial of the moon’s face sent a ghostly sheen of light down to dance in an eerie manner on the slick surface of the Windward Passage. Little green lights bubbled here and there as a school of jellyfish slid silently forward, their deadly tentacles spread to snare an unwary fish.

  To one side of the Passage was Haiti, the land of jungle drums and black magic, and far to the other was Cuba. No sound drifted across the waters, nor was there likely to be any, for this was a danger spot. Countries were at war, and prowling about like great beasts of death were enemy submarines, seeking out the life line of ships to blast them to bits. Even the tiny, glowing ash of cigarette held by a careless seaman was a beacon of impending doom that would be picked up instantly by the strong eye of a submarine.

  Commander Kurt Von Ehrlich glued his eye to the vision plate of the periscope and turned it slightly to the left. Something disturbed the calm that lay over the sea, and he peered intently into the glass trying to catch it. Then it came again. About four miles off, the tell-tale streamer of smoke from a funnel drifted across the yellow glare of the moon. Quickly, he turned to his subordinate. “Steamer crossing dead ahead. Step up to full speed and prepare torpedoes!”

  “Yes, sir!” The order relayed itself through the ship. Men jumped to stations and waited expectantly. Propellers churned madly, shooting the sub forward at the target. Von Ehrlich muttered to himself.<
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  “Stupid fools! One would think that these boats would travel in convoy, but no! They try to outwit the cream of the undersea flotilla by sailing alone. This will teach them a lesson! Only this time there will be no survivors left to tell the story!”

  THE U-119 neared its objective; the lethal charges in the tubes were ready. To this day, this undersea boat had run up a remarkable score of victories. For months it had roamed the vast expanse of the Atlantic and Caribbean, sinking ship after ship. Hardly a man escaped the raking gunfire that followed after the lifeboats went over the sides, for once a torpedo struck, the sub surfaced and blasted away at the survivors. Von Ehrlich was not one to feel any sympathy for men left stranded on the ocean!

  Now the steamer was a dark blob in the sights. For a moment the mist cleared, and the rusted old hulk stood out clearly in the pale light of the moon. No glimmer of reflected light came through the darkened portholes, nor was there any sign of life aboard. Von Ehrlich pondered over this a moment. Surely there should be a lookout in the tower, or someone on the bridge! The water behind the craft was still, and the tip of a propeller blade stuck above the surface like a ghostly finger!

  A trap … that’s what it was, a trap to snare a careless U-boat! Ehrlich took a steady bead. “Fire! Bow torpedoes off!”

  A twin stream of bubbles shot up. A pair of monster messengers of destruction leaped toward the mark. The commander grinned. A dead shot like this would take care of any doubts he might have regarding the vessel. In a moment it would be a worthless mass of scrap iron falling to the bottom!

  Seconds passed … then minutes. Certainly, at this range, he could not have missed … it was a ridiculous thought! But nothing happened! The men were waiting restlessly for the sound of the explosions.