OUT OF THE SEA
By Leigh Brackett
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Astonishing Stories, June 1942.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
CHAPTER ONE
The Hordes from Below
Anyone but Webb Fallon would have been worried sick. He was down to hislast five dollars and quart of Scotch. His girl Madge had sketched himcategorically in vitriol, and married somebody else. His job on theLos Angeles Observer was, like all the jobs he'd ever had, finally,definitely, and for all time, cancelled.
Being Webb Fallon, he was playing a fast game of doubles on thevolley-ball court at Santa Monica Beach, letting the sun and the saltair clear off a hangover.
When he came off the court, feeling fine and heading for the water, bigChuck Weigal called to him.
"So the Observer finally got wise to you, huh? How come?"
Fallon grinned, his teeth white against the mahogany burn of hishard, lean oval face. His corded body gleamed in the hot sun, and hisslanting grey-green eyes were mockingly bright.
"If you must know," he said, "I was busy drowning my sorrows on thenight of the big quake, two weeks ago. I didn't know anything about ituntil I read the papers next morning. The boss seemed to think I was alittle—er—negligent."
Weigal grunted. "I don't wonder. A quake as bad as the 'Frisco one, andyou sleep through it! Phew!"
Fallon grinned, and went on. About half-way down the beach a brightyellow bathing suit caught his eye. He whistled softly and followed itinto the water. After all, now that Madge was gone....
He knew the girl by sight. Fallon had an eye for blonde hair andDiana-esque figures. That was one thing Madge and he had fought about.
The girl swam like a mermaid. Fallon lengthened his stroke, came upbeside her, and said, "Hello."
She blinked salt water out of sapphire blue eyes and stared. "I knowyou," she said. "You're Webb Fallon."
"I'm flattered."
"You needn't be. I know a girl named Madge, too."
"Oh." Fallon's grey-green eyes narrowed. His lean face looked suddenlyugly, like a mean dog. Or more like a wolf, perhaps, with his thinstraight lips and slanting eyes.
"What did Madge tell you about me?" he asked softly.
"She said you were no good." The blue eyes studied his face. "And,"added the girl deliberately, "I think she was right."
"Yeah?" said Fallon, very gently. He hadn't yet got over his cold rageat being jilted for a dull, prosperous prig. The girl's face was likea mask cut out of brown wood and set with hard sapphires. He made atigerish, instinctive movement toward it.
A wave took them unawares, knocked them together and down in astruggling tangle. They broke water, gasping in the after-swirl.
Then, quite suddenly, the girl screamed.
It was a short scream, strangled with sea-water, but it set the hairsprickling on Fallon's neck. He looked past the girl, outward.
Something was rising out of the sea.
Webb Fallon, standing shoulder-deep in the cold water, stared in atemporary paralysis of shock. The thing simply couldn't be.
There was a snout armed with a wicked sword. That and the head behindit were recognizable as those of a swordfish. But the neck behind themwas long and powerful, and set on sloping shoulders. Members likeelongated fins just becoming legs churned the surface. A wholly piscinetail whipped up gouts of spray behind the malformed