Dave Dawson at Truk Read online

  CHAPTER NINE

  _Room Of Death_

  When he again opened his eyes, a smell that was something like that ofdead and rotting flower blossoms filled Dave Dawson's nose, and seemedto clog up his throat. For several seconds he stared bewildered at aworld of murky shadows. Then suddenly he realized that he was in somekind of a room, and that he was lying on his side on the floor of thatroom. And the air he was breathing was heavy with the smell of rottingsweet things. Like perfume that had turned bad. Or still more like cheapperfume mixed with a dash or two of ether. It stung his nose, and hiseyes, and made him gag.

  "What the heck?" he heard his own voice mumble.

  The sound of his own mumbling voice gave him the idea to sit up and takeimmediate stock of his crazy, cockeyed surroundings. But the idearemained just an idea. That is to say, he soon found that he could notsit up. And he couldn't because his wrists were bound tightly behind hisback. His ankles were bound tightly, too. And a rope connecting hisbound wrists and ankles was drawn so taut that the only movement hecould make was to roll over on his face. And that didn't do any goodbecause then he couldn't see anything. And the strain on his wrists andankles made white dots of pain dance about in front of his eyes.

  Gasping and panting for breath, he managed to flop back onto his otherside. But for a couple of minutes he could see nothing but blurs becauseof the dancing white spots. Then as his vision cleared he saw thehuddled form of Freddy Farmer on the floor not four feet from him.Freddy was trussed up, too, and his eyes were closed tight as though indeep sleep. A terrible fear gripped Dawson as he stared at his flyingpal, and then his heart began to beat again when he saw that Freddy wasbreathing regularly.

  Over beyond Freddy on the opposite wall was a small window. But it wasso high up from the floor that it was more like a skylight. And whenDawson twisted his head back so that he could look up at it, he sawfour pale squares of light. The pale light from outside seeped downthrough the four small panes of glass that made up the window.

  "Dawn," he muttered. "It must be close to dawn, or else that glass isplenty dirty. I'll ... _Dawn?_ But it was early evening when ithappened. Well, not later than nine o'clock, anyway. Yeah! Freddydisappeared, and then yelled. I went hunting for him, and ... bingo! Igot clouted, and there was a funny smell. Something like this, and ..."

  He cut off the rest with a groan and closed his stinging eyes tight ashe tried to force his brain back in memory and recall what else hadfollowed. But he couldn't remember anything else. Yes, a sort of hissingsound, that dank, musty smell, and then ... and then the lights had goneout for him.

  He groaned again, opened his eyes and looked at Freddy Farmer. He triedfor a moment or two to wiggle and edge closer, but the white pain in hiswrists and ankles made him give it up.

  "Freddy, Freddy!" he called out softly. "Can you hear me, Freddy? Openyour eyes, pal. This is Dave. Can you hear me, Freddy?"

  Young Farmer's eyelids seemed to flutter a bit, but they did not openimmediately. A tremor ran down the youth's body. Dave saw him quiver,and then heard him sigh. Then presently young Farmer opened his eyes,and just gaped blankly.

  "Freddy, it's Dave!" Dawson said sharply. "How are you, Freddy? Okay,pal? Say something, won't you?"

  The English-born air ace continued to stare blank-eyed for a moment ortwo longer. Then he blinked rapidly, and frowned.

  "What's the matter, Dave?" he asked. "Where are we? What are we...?Ouch! I say, what the heck is up? I can't move. My feet and hands aretied! I say!"

  "Me, too, Freddy," Dawson said quickly, and tried to grin but withoutmuch success. "But I don't know any of the answers. I just woke up.Look, what happened to you last night?"

  "To me, last night?" young Farmer murmured. Then in a startled voice."_Last night_, you said? You mean...? I mean, this isn't last night? Imean, this isn't tonight. I ... Oh, good grief, what do I mean?"

  "Take it easy, son, take it easy," Dave soothed him. "Right now it'searly dawn, I think. Last night you suddenly faded out of the picture.We'd parked the jeep at Kahuku Point beach and were taking a stroll.Remember? You disappeared, called out to me, and I ran smack into a kickin the face, or something. Why did you call out? Where had you gone, andwhy?"

  Freddy Farmer scowled, and slowly moved his head from side to side in abewildered gesture. Then suddenly he stiffened, and his eyes flew openwide.

  "Good gosh, yes, Dave!" he gasped. "It was the queerest thing. Happenedso suddenly that I don't even know now exactly what did happen.Something got me from behind, quick as a wink. Around the throat andover the nose and mouth. I swear I smelled ether, but I'm not sure.Everything sort of went spinning like, and black as pitch. Later Iseemed to come to. I was being carried by a couple of chaps. Maybe therewere more than just a couple. Anyway, I guess it was instinct, I knewthat something was wrong. I remember now yelling to you. And theneverything went black and smelly again. But where are we, and how in theworld did we get here?"

  "And I still don't know the answers, Freddy," Dawson said to him. "As Isaid, I came running when I heard you yell, and the next thing I knew Iwas falling down a great big black hole full of hissing sound, and afunny smell. Like the smell that's in the air now. Boy! if I could onlyget a lungful of fresh clean air then maybe I could think straight for asecond or so. The old brain is whirling so fast it's going to burn out abearing sure as shooting. But are you hurt, or wounded, or anything,Freddy?"

  "Nope," the other replied. "Nothing wrong with me except that I'mtrussed up like a blooming pig ready for roasting. I wonder what it allmeans? Have you heard any sounds, or anything like that?"

  Before Dawson could so much as open his mouth to say, "No," they bothheard the drone of aircraft engines up in the air outside. They listenedto the sound grow louder and louder until they could tell that theaircraft was directly over them. Then it grew fainter and fainter andpresently died away altogether. Neither of them spoke. It was like amockery of fate to be a couple of air pilots trussed up helpless on thedirty floor of some strange and smelly room listening to an airplanethunder by outside.

  "Well, that was a Yank plane, anyway," Dawson eventually grunted, asthough that fact would help them a little. "I could tell."

  "So could I," Freddy Farmer said in a wistful tone. Then, "I'm afraidwe've been a couple of blasted fools again, Dave. Blind, thoughtless,stupid fools. And after the warning Vice-Admiral Stone gave us."

  "You mean that doom caught up with a couple of doomed guys?" Dawsonasked. "But that's nuts, Freddy!"

  "Nuts?" young Farmer came back sharply. "Why, you were the one who hadthe hunch that our Japrat friend probably could communicate with hispals in the Islands. So it was ..."

  "I know what I said," Dave growled. "But if it was that, we wouldn't behere. Alive, I mean. We'd be dead. Why kidnap us in the dark of night,and at a lonely spot like the one where we were? Why not just give usboth the works, and be done with it? With us dead they haven't a singlething to fear about that Nazi spy being identified. Or ... oh my gosh!"

  "What, Dave?" Freddy Farmer asked quickly when Dawson let out the suddenexclamation and then lapsed into a sort of breathless silence.

  "Nothing, nothing, Freddy," Dave replied. "Let's skip it. I wonder wherethe heck we are, anyway. Sure is a mixed-up business, isn't it? Iwonder ..."

  "Here, none of that, Dave!" young Farmer snapped. "I can see throughyou like glass, old thing. You suddenly thought of something that gaveyou a fair jolt. You want to spare me by not telling me. I want none ofthat sort of thing, and you know it, Dave. So come on. Out with it, oldchap. What was the sudden thought?"

  "Oh, look, Freddy, let's just skip it and ..."

  "Dave!" Freddy cut him off again. "That's not being quite fair to yourpal, don't you think, what?"

  Dawson didn't reply for a long moment. He struggled with himself, andthen sighed softly.

  "Okay, Freddy," he said slowly. "But of course it's a crazy, screwythought. Doesn't make any sense at all. Really, to tell the truth,it ..."

  "Ju
st tell it to me, Dave," young Farmer said quietly, and fixed hiseyes on Dawson's face.

  "That maybe this is _it_, Freddy," Dawson finally said, and gave a jerkof his head to include the room in which they were bound prisoners."Maybe they didn't want to leave any signs, such as a couple of bodies,and so forth. Maybe they decided that it was best for you and me just todisappear, and ... and here we are. But I tell you, pal, it's really ascrewy thought. Absolutely absurd. You shouldn't have forced me, kid."

  Freddy Farmer didn't say anything when Dawson finished speaking. Heclosed his eyes for a moment, licked his lips, and then opened his eyesand appeared to stare thoughtfully into space. Dawson started to speakagain, but Freddy smiled a little and shook his head.

  "That's all right, Dave," he said quietly. "Perhaps you are right, andthen again, perhaps you are wrong. And I do think you're wrong. As Ilook at it they simply wouldn't take the chance."

  "Take what chance?" Dawson demanded.

  "That we'd escape from this place, wherever it is," the English-born airace replied. "They'd kill us and leave us here, never to be foundperhaps. They wouldn't let us go out the slow way, knowing that we mightpossibly escape by some miracle. They'd make sure, don't you see?"

  "Yeah, I get your point, Freddy," Dave said with a nod. Then, grinningbroadly, he added, "Well, didn't I just get through saying that it wasprobably a cockeyed thought?"

  "But I wonder _why_ they want to keep us alive?" Freddy Farmer murmuredas though he were too busy with his own thoughts to hear Dawson'squestion.

  In the next moment, though, all conversation between them ceasedabruptly. A door opened and two shadowy figures came into the room. Atthe sound of the latch and the soft footsteps that followed immediately,Dawson screwed his head around, fully expecting to see the leering,buck-toothed face of some son of Nippon. Neither of the two figures whocame into the room were Japanese. At any rate they certainly didn't looklike Japanese. They looked more like a couple of ragged Hawaiians,although their cheek bones were unusually high. And when Dawson took asecond look at their faces he was instantly struck with the impressionthat both were a trifle scared. One of them carried a tray of food,while the other carried a snub-nosed automatic, and acted as though heexpected the thing to blow up almost any second. The one with the trayof food placed it on the floor, and then, while the other stood guardwith his "nervous" gun, he moved around by Dawson's head, and motionedfor the Yank air ace to roll over on his stomach. Dawson hesitated aninstant and then did as signalled. Hands fumbled with the rope about hiswrists, and presently his half numbed wrists were free. He pulled themdown by his sides, and with his head turned that way he watched the manfree Freddy Farmer's wrists, also. That done, the brown-skinned manleaped quickly backward and pushed the tray of food between them withone bare foot.

  "Food," he said in a strange husky voice. "You eat. You eat food."

  Not all of the circulation had returned to Dawson's wrists and his armsfrom finger tips to shoulder sockets felt stabbed by a billion needlesas he shifted over on his back, and pushed himself up to a sittingposition. He heard Freddy Farmer gasp as he, too, sat up. He shot aquick glance at his English-born pal, saw that he was suffering the samekind of pain, and then looked at the food. It was of the Hawaiianvariety and didn't look bad at all. His prime interest at the moment,however, was not in food, regardless of the growling that had started upin his stomach. He looked at the two raggedly clad brown men, of veryuncertain origin no doubt. They returned his look with all theintelligence of a bottle fly showing in their high cheek-boned faces.

  "Where are we?" Dawson asked, and smiled at them.

  Like a rehearsed act the two brown men shook their heads, and pointedlong forefingers at the tray of food.

  "You eat," they said in the same breath.

  Dawson shook his head, smiled again, and made a gesture with histingling right arm that included the house where they were.

  "What place is this?" he said slowly, spacing his words. "Where is bossman? Me make talk with boss fella, yes. You savvy?"

  The two brown men, with jet black hair, shook their heads as one againand pointed.

  "Okay, skip it!" Dawson said quickly. "I get the idea. Me eat. Okay, meeat."

  He turned to the tray of food, picked up something that looked like amessy salad and stuffed it into his mouth. It tasted surprisingly good.In fact, it tasted exactly like a highly spiced salad.

  "Not bad," he grunted.

  "Definitely good," Freddy Farmer said with his mouth full. "Which ofcourse adds to the crazy mystery. Why do the blighters feed us, I'd liketo know?"

  "And I'd like to know who they _are_!" Dawson said with emphasis. Then,reaching out his hand, he said, "Wonder what this stuff is in this cup?Looks like pineapple juice. I ... well, what do you know, it _is_pineapple juice! But good, too!"

  "Why wouldn't it be pineapple juice?" Freddy Farmer murmured as he drankfrom the other cup. "We're in the Hawaiian Islands, aren't we? And Isuppose this other stuff is what they call poi, what?"

  "Search me," Dawson said with a shrug, "It's not bad, but I'd ratherhave a nice juicy steak with French fries, and ..."

  "Dave, stop!" Freddy Farmer groaned, and made an anguished grimace."That's definitely torture to me, and you know it. Besides, you're notthinking of that sort of thing at all. I wish we could get these twobeggars to talk. I fancy they look a bit frightened to me."

  "Check," Dave said, and looked at the two brown men, who stood therelike a couple of wooden Indians. "And mostly too frightened to talk. Ithink ..."

  Dawson didn't continue to say what he thought. The air outside whereverthey were suddenly became filled with the roar of many planes. He judgedthat there were a good fifty or more planes up there in the sky. Heimpulsively threw back his head and stared up at the high window. Thelight seeping down through was considerably less pale than it had beenbefore, but the glass was still too dirty and covered with cobwebs forhim to see the sky above.

  "Yank planes," he said, lowering his gaze to the two brown men. "Iwonder if it's the welcome escort for the carrier force. I ... Oh-oh!Take a look, Freddy! Our brown friends are scared of planes, too."

  And it was seemingly true. The two brown men were virtually cringingback, and their jet black eyes were flitting from their prisoners to thehigh window, and back again. Their actions suddenly filled Dawson'sbrain with a mad idea.

  "Bombs!" he suddenly shouted at the top of his voice. "Get out of here,_everybody_!"

  The two brown men jumped as though they had been shot, and their facesturned a milky chocolate with fear. They both shivered violently, andthen one, the taller of the two, gasped something in a tongue Dawson hadnever heard. Both of them spun around and leaped frantically toward thedoor. They jerked open the door and went through it like a couple ofbrown streaks of lightning.

  Wild hope leaped up in Dawson, but it lived for no more than three orfour seconds. From beyond the open door came snarls like those of atrapped and wounded tiger. Almost instantly the snarls were followed bythe unmistakable thuds of something crashing against human flesh. Backinto the room came the two brown men, like a couple of acrobats doingback flips. They both hit the floor and went slithering across it tobang up against the opposite wall. In a crazy, abstract sort of wayDawson noticed that the one holding the gun still clung to it.

  Then Dawson took his eyes off the two and looked toward the dooropening. The door had been flung wide, and standing framed in it was agiant figure. A death giant, no less, for he was unmistakably Japanese.He was positively huge, but he was Jap from the top of his close-shavenhead all the way down to his splayed-toed feet. A savage leer twistedhis thick lips back over his buck teeth. And in the slits that were hiseyes was a fiendish gleam that made Dawson swallow in spite of himself,and his icy heart start downward like an express elevator.

  For a long moment the two air aces locked eyes with the giant figure.And then the Jap's shoulders shook with silent mirth.

  "Yes, it is very amusing to scare chickens, and w
atch them flee," hesaid in halting English, and threw a look of scorn at the two brown mencringing on the floor over by the far wall. "But we Japanese are notchickens. We are masters. All others are the chickens. We ... do this!"

  The Jap suddenly spit out the last, and with his big yellowish brownhands he went through the motions of slapping a chicken down on theblock and chopping off its head. Freddy Farmer gasped in spite ofhimself. The Jap heard him, burned him with his eyes, and once again hishuge shoulders shook with silent mirth.

  "You do not like to lose your head and neck, Captain Farmer?" he said,and almost pleasantly, too. "Then you were a fool to come to Oahu. Butyou are a fool in many things. Both of you are fools! You will bothagree, as you _die_!"