“It wasn’t your fault, Miss Wells,” Carter said, though from his wooden delivery, Lamont wasn’t convinced that the captain fully believed it.
“Bloody hell!” The newspaperman cursed, jumping involuntarily.
“Do I look that bad?” Rosemary asked. In the ghostly light, the newcomers could just make out the pale skin of her hand as she pushed a strand of disheveled hair away from what appeared to be a patch of some kind on her forehead. She had just emerged from the shadows about a pace from Carter’s shoulder.
“Miss Wells!” The captain exclaimed, turning toward her. “We didn’t see you at all!” He extended his hands, apparently to grasp Rosemary by the shoulders, then stiffened in apparent surprise as the young woman wrapped her arms around his torso, embracing him. He patted her back awkwardly.
“My eyes must be adjusting to the dark,” Rosemary said into Carter’s coat.
“Are you hurt?” Carter asked.
Rosemary appeared to notice how uncomfortable the captain was and stepped back self-consciously. “Not very. I injured my head, but the creatures that live here seem to know a thing or two about medicine.” She touched the bandage on her head, which looked to Lamont like a patch of seaweed. Then her big eyes began to fill with tears. “But captain, Rex—Rex is—”
“We know,” Lamont said, frowning. “Rosey, what happened?”
The medic wiped her nose with a silver sleeve. “We found a small stream of water and followed it into the cave.”
“Why the devil would you do that without waiting for us?” Carter asked. He was unfastening his coat.
“It was my fault,” Rosemary admitted, her cherubic features contorting in abject misery. “I didn’t think it would take long to find a pool where I could take a sample. Rex said that he would radio you.”
“He did that,” Carter acknowledged, pulling his coat off and placing it over her shoulders. The garment, which fell to Carter’s waist, fit Rosemary like an overcoat and made her sullen countenance look even smaller in the wavering light of their lamps. “He told us he was going to follow you into the cave, and then it sounds as if he encountered someone.”
Rosemary nodded grimly. “There are people here.”
“People?” Lamont asked. “Not just cockroaches?”
The young woman made a face as if Lamont had uttered a derogatory slur.
“No, Monty, nothing like them. They were human, or close to it. Pygmy-sized and dressed in scraps and rags. I startled a group of them that were huddled in the cave. One of them had a crude kind of spear and was pointing it at me, but I think it was only a child, and it—he—was afraid of me. The rest of the group looked like old women and other children. Then Rex came into the cave, and I could see right away that he was injured. I rushed to help him, and right behind him were some men—but the largest was only about this tall.” She held a hand up just beneath her chest.
“What happened next?” Lamont urged. He felt the familiar vibration of the tape recorder running beneath his fingers.
“It looked as if they were going to attack me. They were holding spears and tube-shaped weapons. One of the others threw a rock and hit me in the head. But I frightened them out of their wits by lighting a signal flare and shouting at them. When I did that, they scrambled from the cave as quick as they could, and the women and children followed.”
The captain nodded, and Lamont thought he detected an expression of admiration in his features. “And Mr. O’Neil?”
Rosemary’s countenance darkened. “He had been shot by some kind of dart. The wound itself wasn’t bad, but I could see that he was very sick. I realized as I examined the wound that the metal of the dart was highly radioactive and was poisoning his blood. By the time I got it out, it was too late.”
The last words came out as a quavering whisper.
“It wasn’t your fault, Miss Wells,” Carter said, though from his wooden delivery, Lamont wasn’t convinced that the captain fully believed it. “The natives didn’t seem to need an excuse to attack.”
Next: Alien Benefactors