Mists of Dawn (58 page)

To
his
right,
a
gray
field
undulated
to
the
horizon, gray
grass
shimmering
in
ghost-waves
under
a
supernatural
wind.
He
could
see
the
wind—it
looked
like gray
smoke.
Far
away,
a
glimmer
of
lighter
gray.
The ice
sheet.
And
ahead
of
him,
a
great
sphere,
waiting on
the
plain.

The
space-time
machine.

Gasping
for
breath,
the
half-men
right
behind
him, Mark
threw
the
gray
switch
in
the
side
of
the
machine. The
circular
door
hissed
open,
and
Mark
plunged
inside.
He
closed
the
entry
port
behind
him,
catching
one

Neanderthal’s
hand
in
the
closing
section.
The
hand was
cut
off
and
dropped
to
the
floor,
gray
brute
fingers still
wiggling.

Mark
lay
on
the
floor
of
the
space-time
machine, fighting
to
get
his
breath.
A
tremendous
wave
of
relief flooded
through
him.
He
was
safe!
He
had
only
to
set the
controls
and
step
out
to
greet
Doctor
Nye,
and Fang,
and
be
home
again
in
New
Mexico.
He
laughed, hysterical
with
relief
over
his
narrow
escape.

Something
laughed
back
at
him.
He
wasn’t
alone.

Mark
jerked
to
his
feet
and
then
recoiled
in
horror. There
was
a
Neanderthal
inside
the
machine
with
him, the
biggest
Neanderthal
he
had
ever
seen.
He
was
fully nine
feet
tall,
and
his
great
hairy
body
almost
filled
the sphere.
The
smell
of
the
half-man
washed
against
his nostrils.
Mark
screamed
frantically.
The
Neanderthal’s monstrous
hand
reached
out
for
him,
the
hairy
fingers with
their
dirty,
clawed
finger
nails
touched
him—

Mark
woke
up
with
a
start.
There
was
a
hand
touching
him,
but
it
belonged
to
no
Neanderthal.
It
belonged to
Tlaxcan.

“You
have
been
in
the
Land
of
Shadows,”
he
said, smiling.
“You
are
back
now.”

Mark
got
to
his
feet,
rubbing
the
sleep
out
of
his eyes.
Pale
rays
of
the
early
morning
sun
lighted
up
the world,
and
the
fears
of
the
night
dissolved
in
their warmth.
Consciously,
Mark
did
not
place
any
faith
in dreams.
They
were
what
they
were—dreams,
with
no special
meaning
or
significance.
But
subconsciously, deep
within
his
mind,
he
found
his
nightmare
hard
to forget.
He
was
shaken,
and
it
was
no
easy
matter
to thrust
his
strange
dream
from
his
thoughts.

It
was
good
to
be
with
Tlaxcan
again,
and
Mark went
out
with
him
into
the
life
of
the
Danequa
valley. The
booming
waterfall
was
more
beautiful
than
ever, gleaming
in
the
morning
sunlight,
and
the
scent
of pines
was
bracing
in
the
fresh
air.
Mark
followed
Tlax-can
to
his
own
cave,
a
large,
roomy
cavern
high
on another
ledge.
There
he
was
surprised
to
find
that Tlaxcan
had
a
family.
It
was
curious
that
he
had
always thought
of
his
friend
as
single,
but
now
that
he
paused to
think
about
it,
he
remembered
that
most
primitive peoples
married
while
quite
young,
out
of
economic necessity.
A
man
had
to
have
someone
to
make
his clothes,
cook
his
food,
keep
his
home.
There
were
no servants
in
this
dawn
world,
and
most
of
a
man’s
time was
taken
up
with
hunting
and
fighting.