The Seed of the Toc-Toc Birds
Produced by Greg Weeks and the Online DistributedProofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
Transcriber's Note: This e-text was produced from "Astounding Stories",January, 1932. Extensive research did not reveal any evidence that theU.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.
_His clutching hands closed on something small andhard._]
The Seed of the Toc-Toc Birds
By Francis Flagg
[Sidenote: Little did Prof. Reubens suspect what his atom-tamperingwould set loose upon the world.]
Talbot had been working that day, far up in the Catalinas, looking oversome mining prospects for his company, and was returning to theMountain View Hotel in Oracle when, from the mouth of an abandonedshaft some distance back of that town, he saw a strange object emerge.
"Hello," he said to Manuel, his young Mexican assistant, "what thedevil can that be?"
Manuel crossed himself swiftly.
"Dios!" he exclaimed, "but it is a queer bird, senor."
Queer, it certainly was, and of a species Talbot had never before laideyes on. The bird stood on the crumbling rim of the mining shaft andregarded him with golden eyes. Its body was as large as that of abuzzard, and its head had a flat, reptilian look, unpleasant to see.Nor was that the only odd thing. The feathers glittered metallically,like blued copper, and a streak of glistening silver outlined bothwings.
Marveling greatly, and deciding that the bird must be some rare kindescaped from a zoo, or a stray from tropical lands much further south,Talbot advanced cautiously, but the bird viewed his approach withunconcern. Ten feet from it he stopped uneasily. The strange fowl'sintent look, its utter immobility, somewhat disconcerted him.
"Look out, senor," warned Manuel.
Involuntarily, Talbot stepped back. If he had possessed a rifle hewould have shot the bird, but neither Manuel nor himself was armed.Suddenly--he had looked away for a moment--the bird was gone. Clutchinga short miner's pick-ax, and a little ashamed of his momentarytimidity, he strode to the edge of the abandoned shaft and peered down.There was nothing to see; only rotting joists of wood, crumbling earthfor a few feet, and then darkness.
He pondered for a moment. This was the old Wiley claim. He knew itwell. The shaft went down for over two hundred feet, and there wereseveral lateral workings, one of which tunneled back into the hills fora considerable distance. The mine had been a bonanza back in the dayswhen Oracle boomed, but the last ore had been taken out in 1905, andfor twenty-seven years it had lain deserted. Manuel came up beside himand leaned over.
"What is that?" he questioned.
Talbot heard it himself, a faint rumbling sound, like the rhythmicthrob of machinery. Mystified, he gazed blankly at Manuel. Of course itwas impossible. What could functioning machinery be doing at the bottomof an abandoned hole in the ground? And where there were no signs ofhuman activity to account for the phenomenon? A more forsaken lookingplace it would be hard to imagine. Not that the surrounding countrywasn't ruggedly beautiful and grand; the hills were covered withlive-oak, yucca grass, chulla, manzanita, and starred with the whiteblossoms of wild thistle. But this locality was remote from humanhabitation, and lonely.
Could it be, Talbot wondered, the strange bird making that noise? Orperhaps some animal? The noise sounded like nothing any creature,furred or feathered, could make, but, of course, that must be theexplanation. However, it would be dark within the hour, with Oraclestill two miles distant, so he turned reluctantly away, Manuelthwacking the burros from the grazing they had found. But that was notto be the end of the odd experience. Just before the trail swung overthe next rise, Talbot glanced back. There, perching on the rim of theabandoned mining shaft, were not one but two of the strange birds. Asif cognizant of his backward glance, they napped their gleaming,metallic wings, although they did not rise, and gave voice to whatcould only be their natural harsh cries, measured and, somehow,sinister.
"_Toc-toc, toc-toc._"
Talbot went to bed determined to investigate the old Wiley claim thenext day, but in the morning an urgent telegram called him and Manuelto Phoenix, and so the matter was necessarily postponed. Moreover, onmature reflection, he decided that there was nothing much toinvestigate. The days went by, the matter slipped his mind, and he hadalmost forgotten the incident.
It was an Indian who first brought news of the jungle to Oracle. Hisname was John Redpath and he wasn't the average person's idea of anIndian at all. He wore store clothes and a wide-brimmed hat, and spokeEnglish with the colloquial ease of one whose native language it was.It was ten o'clock in the morning, the hour when people gathered at thelocal store and post-office to gossip and get their mail, when he camedriving into town in his Ford, his terrified wife and three childrencrowded into the back seat.
"What's the matter, John?" asked Silby, the constable.
"Matter?" said Redpath. "I'll tell you what's the matter."
He held the attention of the crowd which now began flocking around him."You know me, Silby; I'm not easily frightened; but what's happened atmy place has me scared stiff."
He pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his brow.
"When we went to bed last night, everything looked as usual; but thismorning...."
He paused.
"Something over night had grown up in my pasture. Don't ask me what itis. The whole hillside was filled with it. I went to the pasture tomilk my goats--that's some distance from the house and over a rise; youknow how rugged my land is--and there was the stuff, acres of it,twenty, thirty feet tall, like--like nothing I had ever seen before.And Silby"--his voice was suddenly low--"I could see it growing."
At this remarkable statement, everyone in sound of his voice gaped withastonishment. Had it been any other Indian they would have said he wasdrunk--but not John Redpath. He didn't drink.
"Growing?" echoed Silby stupidly.
"Yes. The damn stuff was growing. But it wasn't that which stampeded meout of there. It was the globe."
"The globe!" said Silby, more mystified than ever.
"It was floating over the growing stuff, like a black balloon. Justover my place the balloon began to sift down a shower of pebbles. Likebeans, they were; seeds, rather; for when they hit the ground theystarted to sprout."
"Sprout?" The constable was capable of nothing more than an echo.
"I'm telling you the truth," continued Redpath. "Incredibly fast. I hadbarely time to crank up the car and get out of there. I never wouldhave done it if the strange growth hadn't left the way clear from thegarage to the road. Silby, I had the devil of a time getting the wifeand kids out of the house. When I looked back after going a quarter ofa mile the house had disappeared under a tangled mass."
There was no time for anyone to question John Redpath further. Even ashe finished speaking a large automobile dashed up and out tumbled awell-dressed and portly red-faced stranger.
"What the devil's the matter with the road above here? Funniest thing Iever saw. The road to Mount Lemmon's blocked. My family," he saidinconsequentially, "is at Mount Lemmon for the summer and I want to getthrough to them."
Blocked! The crowd stared at him wonderingly. John Redpath threw in hisclutch. "So long," he said. "I've a brother in Tucson, and I'm going tohis place until this blows over."
As he left Oracle, John Redpath noticed several dark globes driftingdown on it from the hills.
The first inkling the outside world had of the terrible tragedy thatwas happening at Oracle came over the phone to Tucson while JohnRedpath was still en route to that city.
"Hello, hello! Is this the police station? Silby speaking. Silby, townconstable at Oracle. For God's sake, send us help! We're beingattacked. Yes, attacked from the air. By strange aircraft, roundglobe
s, discharging--oh, I don't know what it is; only it grows when ithits the earth. Yes, grows. Oracle is hemmed in. And there are thebirds--b-i-r-d-s, birds----"
There was a stifled cry, the voice suddenly ceased, and the wire wentdead.
"My God!" said the chief of police of Tucson, "somebody's raving." Helost no time in communicating with the sheriff's office and sending outhis men. They soon returned, white-faced and shaken.
"Chief," said the officer in charge of the party, "you know where theroad to Oracle switches off the main highway? Well, it's impassable,covered with stuff a hundred feet high."
The chief stared. "Are you crazy?"
"No. Listen. It's the queerest growth you ever saw. Not like vegetationat all. More like twisted