Darkness and Dawn Read online

  DARKNESS AND DAWN

  * * *

  GEORGE ALLAN ENGLAND

  *

  Darkness and Dawn

  First published in 1914

  ISBN 978-1-62011-105-5

  Duke Classics

  © 2012 Duke Classics and its licensors. All rights reserved.

  While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in this edition, Duke Classics does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. Duke Classics does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book.

  Contents

  *

  BOOK I - THE VACANT WORLD

  Chapter I - The Awakening

  Chapter II - Realization

  Chapter III - On the Tower Platform

  Chapter IV - The City of Death

  Chapter V - Exploration

  Chapter VI - Treasure-Trove

  Chapter VII - The Outer World

  Chapter VIII - A Sign of Peril

  Chapter IX - Headway Against Odds

  Chapter X - Terror

  Chapter XI - A Thousand Years!

  Chapter XII - Drawing Together

  Chapter XIII - The Great Experiment

  Chapter XIV - The Moving Lights

  Chapter XV - Portents of War

  Chapter XVI - The Gathering of the Hordes

  Chapter XVII - Stern's Resolve

  Chapter XVIII - The Supreme Question

  Chapter XIX - The Unknown Race

  Chapter XX - The Curiosity of Eve

  Chapter XXI - Eve Becomes an Amazon

  Chapter XXII - Gods!

  Chapter XXIII - The Obeah

  Chapter XXIV - The Fight in the Forest

  Chapter XXV - The Goal, and Through It

  Chapter XXVI - Beatrice Dares

  Chapter XXVII - To Work!

  Chapter XXVIII - The Pulverite

  Chapter XXIX - The Battle on the Stairs

  Chapter XXX - Consummation

  BOOK II - BEYOND THE GREAT OBLIVION

  Chapter I - Beginnings

  Chapter II - Settling Down

  Chapter III - The Maskalonge

  Chapter IV - The Golden Age

  Chapter V - Deadly Peril

  Chapter VI - Trapped!

  Chapter VII - A Night of Toil

  Chapter VIII - The Rebirth of Civilization

  Chapter IX - Planning the Great Migration

  Chapter X - Toward the Great Cataract

  Chapter XI - The Plunge!

  Chapter XII - Trapped on the Ledge

  Chapter XIII - On the Crest of the Maelstrom

  Chapter XIV - A Fresh Start

  Chapter XV - Labor and Comradeship

  Chapter XVI - Finding the Biplane

  Chapter XVII - All Aboard for Boston!

  Chapter XVIII - The Hurricane

  Chapter XIX - Westward Ho!

  Chapter XX - On the Lip of the Chasm

  Chapter XXI - Lost in the Great Abyss

  Chapter XXII - Lights!

  Chapter XXIII - The White Barbarians

  Chapter XXIV - The Land of the Merucaans

  Chapter XXV - The Dungeon of the Skeletons

  Chapter XXVI - "You Speak English!"

  Chapter XXVII - Doomed!

  Chapter XXVIII - The Battle in the Dark

  Chapter XXIX - Shadows of War

  Chapter XXX - Exploration

  Chapter XXXI - Escape?

  Chapter XXXII - Preparations

  Chapter XXXIII - The Patriarch's Tale

  Chapter XXXIV - The Coming of Kamrou

  Chapter XXXV - Face to Face with Death

  Chapter XXXVI - Gage of Battle

  Chapter XXXVII - The Final Struggle

  Chapter XXXVIII - The Sun of Spring

  BOOK III - THE AFTERGLOW

  Chapter I - Death, Life, and Love

  Chapter II - Eastward Ho!

  Chapter III - Catastrophe!

  Chapter IV - "To-Morrow is Our Wedding-Day"

  Chapter V - The Search for the Records

  Chapter VI - Trapped!

  Chapter VII - The Leaden Chest

  Chapter VIII - Till Death Us Do Part

  Chapter IX - At Settlement Cliffs

  Chapter X - Separation

  Chapter XI - "Hail to the Master!"

  Chapter XII - Challenged!

  Chapter XIII - The Ravished Nest

  Chapter XIV - On the Trail of the Monster

  Chapter XV - In the Grip of Terror

  Chapter XVI - A Respite from Toil

  Chapter XVII - The Distant Menace

  Chapter XVIII - The Annunciation

  Chapter XIX - The Master of His Race

  Chapter XX - Disaster!

  Chapter XXI - Allan Returns Not

  Chapter XXII - The Treason of H'yemba

  Chapter XXIII - The Return of the Master

  Chapter XXIV - The Boy is Gone!

  Chapter XXV - The Fall of H'yemba

  Chapter XXVI - The Coming of the Horde

  Chapter XXVII - War!

  Chapter XXVIII - The Besom of Flame

  Chapter XXIX - Allan's Narrative

  Chapter XXX - Into the Fire-Swept Wilderness

  Chapter XXXI - A Strange Apparition

  Chapter XXXII - The Meeting of the Bands

  Chapter XXXIII - Five Years Later

  Chapter XXXIV - History and Roses

  Chapter XXXV - The Afterglow

  *

  To

  Robert H. Davis

  Unique inspirer of plots

  Do I dedicate

  This my trilogy

  G.A.E.

  BOOK I - THE VACANT WORLD

  *

  Chapter I - The Awakening

  *

  Dimly, like the daybreak glimmer of a sky long wrapped in fogs, a sign of consciousness began to dawn in the face of the tranced girl.

  Once more the breath of life began to stir in that full bosom, to which again a vital warmth had on this day of days crept slowly back.

  And as she lay there, prone upon the dusty floor, her beautiful face buried and shielded in the hollow of her arm, a sigh welled from her lips.

  Life—life was flowing back again! The miracle of miracles was growing to reality.

  Faintly now she breathed; vaguely her heart began to throb once more. She stirred. She moaned, still for the moment powerless to cast off wholly the enshrouding incubus of that tremendous, dreamless sleep.

  Then her hands closed. The finely tapered fingers tangled themselves in the masses of thick, luxuriant hair which lay outspread all over and about her. The eyelids trembled.

  And, a moment later, Beatrice Kendrick was sitting up, dazed and utterly uncomprehending, peering about her at the strangest vision which since the world began had ever been the lot of any human creature to behold—the vision of a place transformed beyond all power of the intellect to understand.

  For of the room which she remembered, which had been her last sight when (so long, so very long, ago) her eyes had closed with that sudden and unconquerable drowsiness, of that room, I say, remained only walls, ceiling, floor of rust-red steel and crumbling cement.

  Quite gone was all the plaster, as by magic. Here or there a heap of whitish dust betrayed where some of its detritus still lay.

  Gone was every picture, chart, and map—which—but an hour since, it seemed to her—had decked this office of Allan Stern, consulting engineer, this aerie up in the forty-eighth story of the Metropolitan Tower.

  Furniture, there now was none. Over the still-intact glass of the windows cobwebs were draped so thickly as almost to exclude
the light of day—a strange, fly-infested curtain where once neat green shade-rollers had hung.

  Even as the bewildered girl sat there, lips parted, eyes wide with amaze, a spider seized his buzzing prey and scampered back into a hole in the wall.

  A huge, leathery bat, suspended upside down in the far corner, cheeped with dry, crepitant sounds of irritation.

  Beatrice rubbed her eyes.

  "What?" she said, quite slowly. "Dreaming? How singular! I only wish I could remember this when I wake up. Of all the dreams I've ever had, this one's certainly the strangest. So real, so vivid! Why, I could swear I was awake—and yet—"

  All at once a sudden doubt flashed into her mind. An uneasy expression dawned across her face. Her eyes grew wild with a great fear; the fear of utter and absolute incomprehension.

  Something about this room, this weird awakening, bore upon her consciousness the dread tidings this was not a dream.

  Something drove home to her the fact that it was real, objective, positive! And with a gasp of fright she struggled up amid the litter and the rubbish of that uncanny room.

  "Oh!" she cried in terror, as a huge scorpion, malevolent, and with its tail raised to strike, scuttled away and vanished through a gaping void where once the corridor-door had swung. "Oh, oh! Where am I? What—what has—happened?"

  Horrified beyond all words, pale and staring, both hands clutched to her breast, whereon her very clothing now had torn and crumbled, she faced about.

  To her it seemed as though some monstrous, evil thing were lurking in the dim corner at her back. She tried to scream, but could utter no sound, save a choked gasp.

  Then she started toward the doorway. Even as she took the first few steps her gown—a mere tattered mockery of garment—fell away from her.

  And, confronted by a new problem, she stopped short. About her she peered in vain for something to protect her disarray. There was nothing.

  "Why—where's—where's my chair? My desk?" she exclaimed thickly, starting toward the place by the window where they should have been, and were not. Her shapely feet fell soundlessly in that strange and impalpable dust which thickly coated everything.

  "My typewriter? Is—can that be my typewriter? Great Heavens! What's the matter here, with everything? Am I mad?"

  There before her lay a somewhat larger pile of dust mixed with soft and punky splinters of rotten wood. Amid all this decay she saw some bits of rust, a corroded type-bar or two—even a few rubber key-caps, still recognizable, though with the letters quite obliterated.

  All about her, veiling her completely in a mantle of wondrous gloss and beauty, her lustrous hair fell, as she stooped to see this strange, incomprehensible phenomenon. She tried to pick up one of the rubber caps. At her merest touch it crumbled to an impalpable white powder.

  Back with a shuddering cry the girl sprang, terrified.

  "Merciful Heavens!" she supplicated. "What—what does all this mean?"

  For a moment she stood there, her every power of thought, of motion, numbed. Breathing not, she only stared in a wild kind of cringing amazement, as perhaps you might do if you should see a dead man move.

  Then to the door she ran. Out into the hall she peered, this way and that, down the dismantled corridor, up the wreckage of the stairs all cumbered, like the office itself, with dust and webs and vermin.

  Aloud she hailed: "Oh! Help, help, help!" No answer. Even the echoes flung back only dull, vacuous sounds that deepened her sense of awful and incredible isolation.

  What? No noise of human life anywhere to be heard? None! No familiar hum of the metropolis now rose from what, when she had fallen asleep, had been swarming streets and miles on miles of habitations.

  Instead, a blank, unbroken leaden silence, that seemed part of the musty, choking atmosphere—a silence that weighed down on Beatrice like funeral-palls.

  Dumfounded by all this, and by the universal crumbling of every perishable thing, the girl ran, shuddering, back into the office. There in the dust her foot struck something hard.

  She stooped; she caught it up and stared at it.

  "My glass ink-well! What? Only such things remain?"

  No dream, then, but reality! She knew at length that some catastrophe, incredibly vast, some disaster cosmic in the tragedy of its sweep, had desolated the world.

  "Oh, my mother!" cried she. "My mother—dead? Dead, now, how long?"

  She did not weep, but just stood cowering, a chill of anguished horror racking her. All at once her teeth began to chatter, her body to shake as with an ague.

  Thus for a moment dazed and stunned she remained there, knowing not which way to turn nor what to do. Then her terror-stricken gaze fell on the doorway leading from her outer office to the inner one, the one where Stern had had his laboratory and his consultation-room.

  This door now hung, a few worm-eaten planks and splintered bits of wood, barely supported by the rusty hinges.

  Toward it she staggered. About her she drew the sheltering masses of her hair, like a Godiva of another age; and to her eyes, womanlike, the hot tears mounted. As she went, she cried in a voice of horror.

  "Mr. Stern! Oh—Mr. Stern! Are—are you dead, too? You can't be—it's too frightful!"

  She reached the door. The mere touch of her outstretched hand disintegrated it. Down in a crumbling mass it fell. Thick dust bellied up in a cloud, through which a single sun-ray that entered the cobwebbed pane shot a radiant arrow.

  Peering, hesitant, fearful of even greater terrors in that other room, Beatrice peered through this dust-haze. A sick foreboding of evil possessed her at thought of what she might find there—yet more afraid was she of what she knew lay behind her.

  An instant she stood within the ruined doorway, her left hand resting on the moldy jam. Then, with a cry, she started forward—a cry in which terror had given place to joy, despair to hope.

  Forgotten now the fact that, save for the shrouding of her messy hair, she stood naked. Forgotten the wreck, the desolation everywhere.

  "Oh—thank Heaven!" gasped she.

  There, in that inner office, half-rising from the wrack of many things that had been and were now no more, her startled eyes beheld the figure of a man—of Allan Stern!

  He lived!

  At her he peered with eyes that saw not, yet; toward her he groped a vague, unsteady hand.

  He lived!

  Not quite alone in this world-ruin, not all alone was she!

  Chapter II - Realization

  *

  The joy in Beatrice's eyes gave way to poignant wonder as she gazed on him. Could this be he?

  Yes, well she knew it was. She recognized him even through the grotesquery of his clinging rags, even behind the mask of a long, red, dusty beard and formidable mustache, even despite the wild and staring incoherence of his whole expression.

  Yet how incredible the metamorphosis! To her flashed a memory of this man, her other-time employer—keen and smooth-shaven, alert, well-dressed, self-centered, dominant, the master of a hundred complex problems, the directing mind of engineering works innumerable.

  Faltering and uncertain now he stood there. Then, at the sound of the girl's voice, he staggered toward her with outflung hands. He stopped, and for a moment stared at her.

  For he had had no time as yet to correlate his thoughts, to pull himself together.

  And while one's heart might throb ten times, Beatrice saw terror in his blinking, bloodshot eyes.

  But almost at once the engineer mastered himself. Even as Beatrice watched him, breathlessly, from the door, she saw his fear die out, she saw his courage well up fresh and strong.

  It was almost as though something tangible were limning the man's soul upon his face. She thrilled at sight of him.

  And though for a long moment no word was spoken, while the man and woman stood looking at each other like two children in some dread and unfamiliar attic, an understanding leaped between them.

  Then, womanlike, instinctively as she breathed, th
e girl ran to him. Forgetful of every convention and of her disarray, she seized his hand. And in a voice that trembled till it broke she cried:

  "What is it? What does all this mean? Tell me!"

  To him she clung.

  "Tell me the truth—and save me! Is it real?"

  Stern looked at her wonderingly. He smiled a strange, wan, mirthless smile.

  All about him he looked. Then his lips moved, but for the moment no sound came.

  He made another effort, this time successful.

  "There, there," said he huskily, as though the dust and dryness of the innumerable years had got into his very voice. "There, now, don't be afraid!

  "Something seems to have taken place here while—we've been asleep. What? What is it? I don't know yet. I'll find out. There's nothing to be alarmed about, at any rate."

  "But—look!" She pointed at the hideous desolation.

  "Yes, I see. But no matter. You're alive. I'm alive. That's two of us, anyhow. Maybe there are a lot more. We'll soon see. Whatever it may be, we'll win."

  He turned and, trailing rags and streamers of rotten cloth that once had been a business suit, he waded through the confusion of wreckage on the floor to the window.

  If you have seen a weather-beaten scarecrow flapping in the wind, you have some notion of his outward guise. No tramp you ever laid eyes on could have offered so preposterous an appearance.

  Down over his shoulders fell the matted, dusty hair. His tangled beard reached far below his waist. Even his eyebrows, naturally rather light, had grown to a heavy thatch above his eyes.

  Save that he was not gray or bent, and that he still seemed to have kept the resilient force of vigorous manhood, you might have thought him some incredibly ancient Rip Van Winkle come to life upon that singular stage, there in the tower.

  But little time gave he to introspection or the matter of his own appearance. With one quick gesture he swept away the shrouding tangle of webs, spiders, and dead flies that obscured the window. Out he peered.

  "Good Heavens!" cried he, and started back a pace.

  She ran to him.

  "What is it?" she breathlessly exclaimed.

  "Why, I don't know—yet. But this is something big! Something universal! It's—it's—no, no, you'd better not look out—not just yet."