Page:Amazing Stories Volume 15 Number 12.djvu/116

116 cause the unexplained absence of Dirk Temple would be looked into. And I don't want anybody looking into things here. So I thought the thing to do would be to let you clear out of here, trusting on your drunken condition to prevent you from remembering much of the place. But since you've snooped around you know too much. My original charitable intentions have been changed. You stay here now for the rest of your life."

"The hell I do," Dirk exploded. "You can't get away with this. My disappearance won't go unnoticed."

"I'm going to risk that. If anyone did show up however, it is improbable that you'll still be around and kicking."

Dirk paled.

"Do you plan to murder me?"

The big man smiled.

"I have something better in mind. That soft flabby body of yours is going to be chained with a line of other slaves and made to work. You won't last long. Strong men last a year at the most. You'll cave in a few weeks. That will save me the bother of killing you and I'll also get some work out of your soft carcass."

"You can't do this," Dirk cried. "It isn't f—fair."

The big man stood up, stepped around his desk. His face was as hard and square as a ragged piece of granite.

"My name is Skarack," he said. "There's only one law here and that's me. You're my slave, body and soul, from this minute on. I'm going to work you to death and I'm going to enjoy doing it. Your money and your position and your fine friends will never help you now. You're a walking dead man from now on."

"You can't get away with this," Dirk cried.

Skarack smiled thinly. Then his heavy fist lashed out and slammed into Dirk's jaw. Dirk staggered back, crashed into the walk and slid to the floor. He was still conscious, but his head felt as if a mule had kicked it. Every muscle in his body seemed paralyzed. He tried to climb to his feet, but Skarack's heavy boot crashed into his ribs, drove the air from his lungs.

"Here I can get away with anything," Skarack said. He turned to Buck. 'Put him in line and see that he learns how to work."

Buck grinned wolfishly.

"You bet," he growled.

Stooping, he slunk Dirk's limp body to his shoulders and lurched from the office.

HE next sensation that penetrated to Dirk's consciousness was the sound of monotonously shuffling feet, and the occasional metallic clank of chains. For a timeless interval he knew that and nothing more. Then he gradually became aware of his own forward motion. He was in line, chained to a man in front and another behind him, walking forward in jerky, robot-like motions.

But beyond these elementary realizations his mind was unable to travel. Like a man in a living dream he slouched along, jaw slack, eyes dull. He was chained. He was walking. That was all he knew.

Time passed. Finally the forward motion ceased. Like a soulless beast he stood in his fetters, without the will or inclination to move an eyelid.

Gradually his mind began to clear. The transition was not swift, but it was steady. He became aware of the men next to him, of guards, of vast expanses of rock spreading before his eyes.

"Get to work," a voice yelled.