Spider Men of Gharr
By WILBUR S. PEACOCK
Kimball Trent was the last hope of a ravaged Earth,
for locked in his mind were secrets that would
bring freedom to the Barbs. He lacked but one
thing to release the power of those secrets—the key
to the riddle of the blue monsters who could not die.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Summer 1945.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
At first there was only the cold, the Stygian inky iciness that held every muscle of his body in thrall and made his thoughts flow with the turgid slowness of treacly molasses. He could not open his eyes, nor could he move; and his mind slipped back into the darkness time and time again. He tried to think of who he was, or what he was, and there was no knowledge in his brain.
And then the heat came through to him, biting into his numbed flesh with the bitter sharpness of a naked yellow flame, drawing life to all his body, pressing back some of the velvet shadows from his mind.
"Kim," he thought dazedly. "I'm Kim."
And then his mind blanked out again, for how long, he did not know. But when he came to, he could open his eyes and see the faintest glimmer of sunlight coming through the split and ruptured earth, tiny dust motes floating in the golden streak.
"I'm Kim," he thought again, and held onto the memory with a frantic desperation, frightened that it was the only reality he had.