"Quiet!" rasped Captain Lane. His flashlight beam faded abruptly, darkness closed in about them like a shroud. But only for an instant. Because a new effulgence lit the scene. The massive door was slowly swinging open—and from its widening groove came a pallid, greenish glow. Like some monstrous, hungry mouth the door opened wider and yet wider. Dim shapes were shadows behind it, vague at first, dark and sinister....
And then, out of the ghoulish semi-gloom, suddenly two figures stood limned in stark relief. But they were not the figures of Earthmen, neither were they fat, friendly shapes of Venusians. They were tall, lean creatures, thin-faced and hungry-fanged, garbed with what appeared to be huge mantles covering them from their shoulder-blades to the tips of their long, prehensile fingers!
Two wobbling, awkward steps they took from the now completely opened door; for an instant Tim heard the shrill, piping chatter of their speech—then their "mantles" spread and became huge, jointed wings on which they soared straight across the cavern toward the spellbound trio!
Captain Lane's cry was thick with horror.
"Good God, Mallory! Shoot, and shoot quick! We've found the gates of hell. They're the bat-men—the Vampires of Venus!"
Even as he spoke, he was tugging his own needle-gun from its holster; now its fiery beam lanced squarely at the foremost of the two attackers. Nor was Tim Mallory slow in heeding. His weapon was out in one swift movement; its beam slashed a hole in the gloom as it sought one of the silently winging creatures above.
But they might as well have taken aim at a will-o'-the-wisp. The dim glow from beyond the open door illumined only a portion of the cavern; the heights above were a well of jet, against which the crepuscular creatures were all but invisible. Again and again the two heat-beams stabbed black shadows, once Tim thought he heard a brief, whimpering cry, but no winged creature, charred in death, hurtled from the eyrie point of vantage. Only the sound of great wings beating persisted—and once an ebon shape flung itself from an ebon shadow to rake sharp claws gratingly across Tim's bulger helmet. It had glided away again, mockingly, before he could spin to flame a shot after it.
Then Lane's free arm was thrusting at him. Lane's voice was sharp, incisive.
"Out of here! Dorothy first! Maybe there are just two of these devils—Ooow! Damn your rotten hide!"