THE TREASURE

By WILLIAM MORRISON

Tomas Battles the Cruelty of Man and Nature in a Harsh

World of the Future to Win Freedom for His People!

TOMAS was conscious of danger all about him, of danger so close that he could almost sniff it. Somewhere in the forest ahead, Jarvis was lurking, and between him and Jarvis, the struggle could have only one end—death. So Tomas walked cautiously, keeping a wary eye on each tree and bush, ready for instant action should Jarvis show a trace of himself.

And yet, when the threat of death actually materialized, he was not ready. At the moment that Jarvis drew back his arm to whirl the deadly spin-weapon, the great bird had appeared overhead and by its noise had so startled Tomas, that he forgot the danger. It was not until the weapon came whirling toward his head that he recalled it.

He ducked belatedly, but it was not the quick motion that saved his life. It was the fact that Jarvis, too, had been affected by sight of the bird, and had allowed his aim to be deflected by a matter of inches.

Tomas wasted no more time in staring at the bird or at the men inside it. A quick leap took him to the spot where the spin-weapon had crashed into the ground; and then, with the heavy piece of metal in his hand, he was racing through the forest with all the speed of his long, wiry legs. A second spin-weapon came hurtling after him, but he was already beyond range. He could hear Jarvis, in black disappointment, yelling after him.

"Stand up and fight, you coward!"

If it had been a question of Jarvis alone, Tomas might have complied. But Jarvis, he knew, had hangers-on whom he had persuaded to take his part; and these might very well be nearby in the forest. Tomas was not minded at the moment to risk his life against odds. Not, at least, until he had seen Wanna, who would soon be waiting for him.

He slowed to a long, steady trot. Overhead, the bird had dwindled in the sky until it was only a black spot, and only a faint buzzing sound came from it. Then, even that died away as the black spot disappeared.

Never had Tomas or those he knew seen this bird until the past week. Now, within a few days, they had seen it three times. He wondered uneasily what its intentions might be, and then dismissed it from his mind. He was approaching the sun-dwelling which old Larkin inhabited in solitary splendor. Tomas had something to tell Larkin.

THE sun-dwelling was a wonderful building of many glowing colors that caught the eye even at a great distance. It was dome-shaped, and Tomas estimated that it was all fifty paces across. He wasn't quit sure because he had never been inside to measure it. Nevertheless, it was a huge place for a single man to inhabit.

But then, of course, Larkin did not really inhabit it alone. He had the Treasure with him, and that required a vast space.

As Tomas came closer, the sun-dwelling lost some of its color, and became a soft gray dome of a smooth material that was said to be warm to the touch. This rumor Tomas believed because he had once touched it. He did not begin to believe some of the other stories people told. It was even said, that although it was impossible to see into the sun-dwelling from outside, any one within could see out with no trouble at all.

His disbelief, however, received a severe shock when he came within a few feet of the entrance. For Larkin, a white-bearded old man, appeared unexpectedly at the entrance, as though he had been watching Tomas' approach.

"Stay away!" he cried vigorously.

"I mean you no harm, Larkin," replied Tomas. "I came to warn you."

"I need no warnings!" The old man seemed furious. "I am annoyed continually by those who wish to steal the Treasure. And I do not believe you mean no harm."

Personally, Tomas had no faith in the existence of a Treasure at all. The old man was crazy, and simply imagined that it was there. At the same time, he felt unsure of himself, and if it were there, he would have liked to see it.

Possibly Larkin was aware of this contradiction in his thoughts. "Go away," he ordered, "before I blast you as I have done the others. And do not try to use the spin-weapon you hold in your hand."

"I have no intention of killing you, Larkin. But I do not fear that you will blast me."

The old man smiled grimly. His brain was addled, thought Tomas, but he did not suffer the foolishness of age.

"It is ten years since I blasted the last man who attempted to rob me. One moment he was there, and then he was not. There were many who saw it, they have stayed away ever since. Ask them if I have the power to destroy or not."

"Their words are worth nothing. They are old men like yourself, maybe older."

"There you are wrong. They are old, but not as old as I. They were born long after the Yellow Dust. I was a child when it descended upon us, and the world was full of people in numbers you can not even imagine. Most of them died, but I lived. I am over a hundred now, and still strong because the scientists of those days fed me with vitamins you have not even heard of. I remember . . ."

He talked on, with the garrulousness of the aged. Tomas understood very little of what Larkin said, and the little he could make out, he knew was nonsense. Larkin claimed, for example, that no one in these days knew how to use the spin-weapons properly. In his youth, men could kill with them at a distance of a hundred and fifty paces. Now, it was all they could do to kill at twenty.

"Jarvis can kill at twenty-five," said Tomas thoughtfully, "when he finds a victim less alert than I am. Tell me, were men giants in those days, to kill at one hundred and fifty paces? Or did they have more skill than we have now?"

"They had skill, a special kind of skill. They did not throw the weapons. They used them differently, simply pointing, and pulling a trigger. And it will do you no good to ask in what manner the weapons killed. Even though I were to tell you of bullets, you would still be unable to make them."

Tomas shrugged.

"You think I am crazy. You are fools, all of you. A good stone, carefully chosen, would make a better missile than the best spin-weapon. But you are so hide-bound by tradition that you prefer to stake your lives on the spin-weapon and die, rather than use a handful of stones and live. Moreover, if any of you had brains, you would reinvent the bow and arrow."

WHAT Larkin said now seemed to make more sense, but it was complicated, and Tomas dismissed it. After all, it was evident from their very nature that spin-weapons were meant to be thrown. They were smooth, and could be grasped firmly by the barrel for a good, spinning throw. There really was no use wasting words over the obvious.

"You might as well deny," said Tomas, "that knives and forks were made for us to eat with, and for no other purpose."

"That's another of your crazy customs." Larkin snorted in disgust. "None of you so much as lift an apple to your mouths without using a knife and fork on it. 'It's the only way,' you insist. Without them you'd starve. There's an old saying that fingers were invented before knives and forks, but none of you have heard it. And incidentally, knives were invented for other purposes. These old-fashioned ideas of decency—"

Tomas was growing impatient. "Before I go, Larkin," he broke in, "I must tell you my warning. Jarvis means to kill you and steal your Treasure."

"I will blast him."

"Jarvis will not come alone. He has persuaded some men to follow him, but they are uncertain in their minds as to whether they have done wisely, and Jarvis intends to convince them. As master of your Treasure, he feels that he will be able to buy their allegiance."

"He is a fool, too. Why does he want to control a pack of idiots?"

"He needs them to help in killing me. That," said Tomas frankly, "is why I am warning you. We both want the same girl—"

"You risk death over a girl?" demanded old Larkin. "You both deserve it for your stupidity. Go, and bather me no more."

"Be warned. Jarvis is in earnest."

"Be off. I need no warnings."

In his mind Tomas cursed the old man for his stubbornness, and then was on his way again. For a few seconds Larkin stared after him with suspicious eyes before popping back into his huge lonely sun-dwelling.

Tomas trotted on thoughtfully. Wanna was probably waiting for him by now. He stepped up his pace slightly, to make up for the time he had lost talking to old Larkin.

He skirted the city of ruins that lay on the river bank, fearing the wild cows that made their homes in the brick dwellings, and fed on the grass that grew in the streets. Then he entered another forest, a forest of tall, leafy trees whose heavy branches almost shut out the sun. It was here, beneath the ancient stump of a giant tree that he was to meet Wanna.

AS HE approached the meeting place, Tomas heard the ominous sound of dogs barking. Fear for Wanna's safety suddenly gripped him, and he began to run with all his speed. Another moment, and he had reached the clearing where the giant stump was located.

Wanna was standing on top of it, about six feet off the ground. About her were ranged eight huge dogs, their shoulders almost on a level with the top of the stump, their heads so heavy that the animals, as if oppressed by the weight, usually held them close to the ground. Now the heads were raised, the ferocious teeth showing as the beasts sprang forward at the girl.

Wanna was frightened, Tomas could see that. But she was fighting back bravely. She whirled from one side to another, swinging at the snarling animals with the heavy iron bar that Tomas had once given her for protection. Off to one side, Tomas saw a dog with a badly crushed skull dragging himself away before the rest of the pack should turn on him and finish him off.

The dogs saw Tomas coming before Wanna did, and drew away from the stump to growl at him. They were the most horrible brutes Tomas had ever seen. Their bodies thick and powerful. They had long snouts, heavy jaws, and tusks that projected up almost past their eyes. They were supposed to be the descendants of ancient beasts that had been tame in the days before the Yellow Dust, until both their size and their ferocity had been magnified by those same scientists of whom Larkin spoke. They began to move toward him. Tomas, his hand fumbling at a pouch hanging from his belt, waited until the nearest dog was half a dozen paces away. Then his arm drew back and whipped forward. A tiny piece of metal sailed into the brute's throat, and the animal sprang into the air and collapsed, clawing at the ground. Tomas threw another of the metal objects before turning and starting to run.

The six remaining dogs were soon strung out in a long line behind him. They could not catch him in a short run, but if no help came to him, they knew from previous experience that they could run him down.

Tomas, however, had no fear. He sprinted slightly forward, then turned around, and killed two more dogs before starting to run again. A few minutes later he killed another pair.

The remaining two came to a halt, fear clouding their eyes. Tomas turned and came at them, and now they ran from him.

He retraced his steps to the bodies of the dead dogs. Projecting from the side of each dog's throat was a sharp sliver of steel. Inside, the steel had uncoiled and constricted the dog's windpipe, cutting off its breath. Tomas grasped the sliver firmly and pulled the spring through the animal's flesh. Then he cleaned the blood off in the ground, and coiled the spring slowly, fitting the end into the notch prepared for that purpose. Now the spring was ready to throw again.

He was careful to secure each piece of steel. The tiny weapons were valuable, for they had been made long before by Tomas' grandfather's grandfather, as a special protection against these very animals. The secret of making them had long been lost, just as man had forgotten how to fashion new spin-weapons.

WANNA was expecting him, knowing that ho would soon dispose of the dogs. Tomas greeted her according to the traditional rites that had been preserved by the women of the tribe, touching her lips briefly with his own before he spoke to her. "Jarvis has already tried to kill me," he informed her.

"He will try again."

Tomas nodded, "Sooner or later he will succeed," he remarked calmly, "unless I can find him when I am sure he is alone. With the spin-weapons, he can kill at a greater distant than I can, None the less, in hand-to-hand combat, I would master him, if only he had none of his gang within shouting distance."

"Perhaps you, too, could get others to help you in your fight."

"I? How?"

"If you were to ask Larkin for some of his Treasure—"

Tomas shook his head.

"He would not give it, for he is a miser, and the Treasure is his life. It can be gotten in only one way."

"Jarvis' way?"

"Yes, and that is not for me. It is wrong to kill except over a woman. Then it is an honor slaying, and worth boasting of. But Larkin I will not touch, whether or not it is true that he has the power to blast."

"Then you will surely die at Jarvis' hands," Wanna said angrily.

Tomas scowled. He appeared to be waging a battle against superior forces, and he could see no way out.

"Do you think that you could perhaps steal from Larkin?" Wanna suggested. "Even a two-center would enable you to buy the allegiance of a man."

TOMAS thought of the possibility of burglarizing Larkin's hoard.

"There is but one entrance to Larkin's sun-dwelling, and he guards that jealously," Tomas said with regret. "No, Wanna, it is not possible. Perhaps I might get a two-center some other way."

"There is no other way. In his youth Larkin gathered up almost every bit of treasure for miles around. He has them by the thousands—two-centers, three-centers, perhaps others. My mother told me of them, although I have never seen them myself. You must admit that it is wrong, Tomas, for one man to have so much wealth and make no use of it."

"There is nothing I can do about it."

"If you were a man, Tomas, you would find something to do, instead of talking calmly of your death. Perhaps you do not think that I am worth fighting for?"

Tomas damned the skill which women had for putting a man in the wrong. Wanna was indignant not at Jarvis, who was going to kill Tomas, but at Tomas, because he was going to be killed. It was probable that she would even expect an apology from his corpse.

She was walking away from him, her nose in the air, and Tomas knew better than to hasten after her. She would interpret that as a sign of weakness. He watched her go, and squatted down on the ground, trying to think of some way out.

But his thoughts had hardly time to get started. For suddenly a loud shriek came to his ears, and he looked up to see Wanna in the grip of two men.

Jarvis' gang! Tomas' face grew white with anger, and he leaped forward. He stopped just in time. His sharp eye had caught the shadowy figure of a third man, who had been lurking behind a bush with a spin-weapon in his hand, waiting for Tomas to come within range.

Wanna's shrieks grew fainter as the two men dragged her away. Tomas, edging up on the one who had been left as a rear guard, tried not to let her cries disturb him. He could not get to her until he had killed this man who was blocking his path. That, he decided, would not take long.

He had two spin-weapons on him, one he had owned previously and the one thrown at him by Jarvis. At a distance of almost twenty-five paces, he threw Jarvis' weapon, which was balanced a little differently from his own. He missed, and ducked a return throw from the man behind the bush. He rushed in and threw again.

The weapon sailed an inch past the man's face. And the man still had one more weapon of his own. He came out from behind the bush now, grinning to see Tomas helpless. Tomas might have saved himself by flight, but that would have been to leave Wanna to her fate. Tomas did not even think of safety.

POSSIBLY old Larkin's words had been fermenting in his brain ever since their conversation together. Almost without realizing what he was doing, Tomas dropped to the ground, picked up a stone, and threw it.

It hit the man on the forehead. He had time for one single cry of pain and surprise before he fell to the ground, bleeding. Then Tomas was upon him, choking the life out of him.

When Tomas stood up again, Wanna was out of sight and out of hearing, but Tomas was sure that he would find her again. And he was convinced now that he would kill Jarvis.

It was true that the stones, as individual weapons, were not as effective as the spin-weapons. They did not have the convenient grip, the balance to which he was accustomed. Each was of a different size and shape, and would fly through the air differently. In addition, Tomas almost felt a sense of indecency at using them, as if he were to eat with his fingers instead of with a knife and fork.

But they had great advantages. Their number was unlimited. That was the important point. He would not be trusting his life to the one or two spin-weapons he could carry.

Tomas hid the weapons the dead man had owned in a place where he could later find them again. He wanted to take along only the two he had already possessed. Then he filled the pouch at his belt with stones, as nearly of the same size as he could get them, and started out after Wanna again.

When he reached the neighborhood of old Larkin's sun-dwelling, he found a crowd of people, standing around at a distance of some seventy-five paces from the entrance. At the entrance itself was old Larkin, holding a curious tube about a pace long.

Thirty paces from old Larkin stood Jarvis. Near him were half a dozen members of his gang. Wanna, tied hand and foot like a pig ready for slaughtering, has been thrown on the ground and temporarily neglected. Larkin's face was grim as he brandished the tube in the air.

"I am warning you, Jarvis," he cried, "that you will never live to enjoy my Treasure. Whatever happens to the others, be sure that you at least will be blasted out of existence."

"You would blast me now if you had the power, you old fool," Jarvis grinned. "But you can not. You are a fraud."

"Come within range, and I will show you whether I am a fraud. Step up a few paces, Jarvis."

Jarvis whispered several words to his men, and they separated, ringing Larkin around in a semi-circle, so that he could not keep his eyes on all of them at once. But they remained out of range.

Tomas spoke indignantly to one of the numerous bystanders, a man he did not know.

"This is murder, not an honor slaying. Jarvis has no right to old Larkin's Treasure.”

"And who is to stop him from taking it?"

"We—all of us!"

"Why should any of us die for old Larkin?" asked the man reasonably. "He has never done anything for us. He sits with his hoard, running the two-centers and three-centers through his fingers, but never parting with them. Jarvis has promised us that if we do not interfere, we shall each receive part of the Treasure, enough to make us wealthy for life. Personally, I shall be glad to see the end of the old miser."

JARVIS' men, at a signal from their leader, were making a sudden dash for Larkin. The old hermit whirled, and pointed the long tube at one of them. The man disappeared.

Tomas saw it with his own eyes. One moment the man was there, and the next he was no longer in existence. Only a thin mist marked the spot where he had stood! There was a gasp of horror from the crowd, and then a shout of revenge, as Jarvis and those of his men that remained hurled their weapons.

But most of them had been unnerved by seeing what had happened to their companion. Their weapons clattered dully against the sun-dwelling, only that of Jarvis himself catching the old man on the side of the head and laying open the scalp. Larkin staggered, but did not fall. He aimed the tube again, and the men turned and ran for their lives, but not before one of them had been caught and blasted.

The grim silence that followed was broken only by Larkin's shouts of triumph.

"So I am a fraud, am I? Come closer, Jarvis, and learn what has happened to your men! Enjoy the Treasure I have saved for you!"

The old man's white hair was now stained with red, and he tottered as he spoke, but Jarvis did not accept the invitation.

"You are less a fraud than I had thought, Larkin, but still we shall win in the end. I am giving you one more chance. Leave the sun-dwelling and the Treasure to us, and go where you please. We shall not harm you."

Larkin brandished the deadly tube. "No, not so long as I have this." "We are not such fools as to come within range again. We shall simply stay here and wait for you to die." Jarvis snarled, "You are wounded, Larkin, and perhaps soon you will fall to the ground and sleep. Already your feet are unsteady. Or you will need food. We shall not let you go out to seek it. We can run faster than you, and if you leave the entrance to your dwelling we shall surround you and kill you from the rear."

"I have food in here." Larkin leaned unsteadily against the side of the sun-dwelling.

"It will not remain fresh, and you will be forced to seek more. No, Larkin, you will do better to accept our offer."

Watching the old man, Tomas realized that he could not remain conscious much longer. And the moment he collapsed, Jarvis would be in for the kill. Jarvis would have the Treasure, and he would have Wanna, as well.

Tomas sprang forward. Because their attention was centered on old Larkin, he was able to get within twenty paces of Jarvis' men before they realized his presence. His first spin-weapon caught one of them on the back of the skull and crushed it, his second landed behind a man's ear and knocked him down. Then, as the others turned in alarm, he drew back.

Jarvis glared at him. "You have no more weapons, Tomas. Be prepared to die."

Tomas' hand dropped to the pouch at his belt, and a stone flew toward Jarvis' face, Jarvis, startled, had barely time to duck. The next stone caught him in the stomach, and he yelled in pain.

But the stones, although they had a greater range, were lighter than the spin-weapons, and did not do as much damage. Jarvis and his men drew back hastily as Tomas advanced, away from the sun-dwelling.

Tomas, exultantly following, forgot himself. Stone after stone flew from his eager fingers. The two men who still remained with Jarvis had by now given up all hope of securing the Treasure. One of them suddenly turned and took to his heels, and the other followed. Jarvis alone was left.

Tomas' hand, dropping to his pouch, encountered only emptiness. A blank look overspread his face. Jarvis perceived it, and approached, raising his own spin-weapon for the fatal throw. Tomas turned and raced for the sun-dwelling.

Larkin had finally collapsed, and was lying across the entrance to the sun-dwelling, the tube on the ground a few inches from his head. Tomas threw himself upon the tube, twisted around like a cat, and pointed it at Jarvis. He squeezed, and something at the end seemed to yield.

Jarvis' spin-weapon, already flying in the air toward him, vanished. Jarvis, the expression of triumph still on his face, brought up short, and there was no time for it to change before he too had gone to follow his weapon.

Tomas gulped in wonder at what he had done and, still clutching the tube, ran toward Wanna. When he had cut the thongs that bound her, he moved toward the sun-dwelling. Wanna was close at his heels, and behind them, impelled by an irresistible curiosity, came the crowd of bystanders. What had been said of the sun-dwelling was true. Although it was impossible to see in through the walls, there was no trouble in seeing out. But it was not this wonder that held Tomas and Wanna spellbound. It was the greater wonder that now spread before them.

Behind him Tomas could hear the gasps of astonishment from the crowd now pressing into the sun-dwelling. The whole building was filled with Treasure. Glowing in the sunlight that poured through the walls were heap upon heap of two-centers and three-centers. There was enough so that all the men, and the women and children in Tomas' tribe, and in the tribes nearby, could be wealthy beyond their dreams for the remainder of their lives. And old Larkin, with no earthly use for it, had jealously kept it to himself.

The excitement of the crowd was growing beyond bounds. One man rushed ahead and clutched an armful of two-centers to his breast. A half dozen others raced forward, their eyes gleaming with the lust for wealth.

Tomas frowned. He did not like this mad scramble. As he watched, he became aware of a faint sweet odor, not unpleasant, and yet somehow disturbing. He knew that Wanna perceived it too, for he could see her sniff uncertainly.

Men and women began to collapse about him. Wanna fell to the ground, a look of astonishment on her face. Tomas, reeling uncertainly, was aware of a buzzing sound in his ears, as if the great bird he had seen earlier in the day were returning. Then the blackness overcame his mind, and he was aware of no more. . . .

THE masked men who approached the sun-dwelling looked about them curiously. The tallest of the group asked:

"Think we got them all?"

The captain nodded.

"I don't believe they knew what was hitting them. Of course, the anaesthetic has an odor that's faintly disturbing, but it won't mean much to them."

They stopped to stare down at the men whom Tomas had killed.

"No doubt about their being savages," commented the tall man.

"Oh, we'll change all that," returned the psychologist of the group. "Their minds are fundamentally as good as ours. All they need is the proper training."

"The remarkable thing," said the leader, "is not that they've become savages, but that they've managed to survive at all. When our ancestors finally escaped to the safety of Galapagos, they were convinced that both North and South America were completely uninhabitable.

"They couldn't see how any living thing, any living vertebrate at the least, could survive the Yellow Dust that confounded comet sent out at us. But evidently there were small oases in the vast deserts. And these people have had the grit and the ability to hang on to life."

"That shouldn't have been hard." The tall man grunted. "The human race was pretty far advanced by then. There had been a start in the development of space-travel. Atomic power was a reality. There were even atomic weapons that could blast matter out of existence. And take a look at this building. Unidirectionally transparent plastic or I'll eat my hat. And probably in as good condition as the day it was poured."

"You don't give them half enough credit, Lanning," the historian of the party insisted. "The race knew a lot in those days, but knowledge dies rapidly when the society that gave it birth disappears. They probably had to start from scratch, learning to adjust themselves to the new conditions. The customs and traditions they inherited from civilization were probably more of a handicap than a benefit."

They entered the sun-dwelling and stared.

"I'll be blasted!" Lanning exclaimed. "Now, what's the purpose of all that? Am I seeing right?" The psychologist peered through his lenses.

"Probably a curious tribal custom."

"I'll say it's curious!" The captain laughed. "All those bottles! Milk bottles of the ancient days, aren't they?"

"Most of them are. Some of them have Pepsi-Cola written on them. What's that?"

"That was a popular beverage during that time, wasn't it?" said the historian.

"What could they want the empty bottles for?" demanded Lanning.

"Who knows?" The psychologist shrugged. "Probably thought they were valuable, and undoubtedly murdered each other for them."

"What a job we've got," sighed Lanning. "Having to civilize people like that!"