PukeOnABook

Reptile. Episode Eight. Chaos and Destruction. Summary: Thanks to Mark Bowen, the police know now the sinister secret of Professor Andros Androphis, who has the power to transform into a reptile and whose avowed purpose is to dominate the universe by terror! But, despite all their efforts, Mark and Inspector Manning cannot prevent the terrifying character from forcing the officers and the soldiers of a tank regiment to submit to his will, and with whom he now marches on London. How will the government react, Manning? I do not know. At this moment there is a dramatic discussion in Parliament. Indeed, in Parliament. He is mad! Less crazy than you think, maybe! We must send fighter-bombers, that's all! Ordah! Ordah! All I have to offer is my blood, sweat, toil and Body Odor! Quiet please! Page two: It was now impossible for the authorities to keep secret the events that they no longer knew how to control. And there is strong talk of sending fighter-bombers to stop the advance of the reptilian armour! No! The boys who are in his tanks have nothing to do with it! The government can't sacrifice them like this! Already great demonstrations were organized. Government Resign! No planes against our unfortunate soldiers! Out! One last flash, Dave! The crowd is marching on parliament! Who can predict what will happen? Page three: At the moment demonstrators are invading the base from where the intervention forces are supposed to take off! No planes against our unfortunate soldiers! If you try to take off, we will destroy your planes! Mark Bowen and inspector Manning hovered over the mad crowd in a helicopter. It is chaos Mark, and you would think professional agitators were happy to add fuel to the fire! Chaos! That's just what this human snake wants, so he can rule over us. Let us land! It is rotten down below! Page four: What are you orders sir? We have orders to take off. I know that very well. But, can we shoot our brothers in arms in the tanks? No! You will not be able to! Let the government find another way to stop the armor and get rid of this Reptile! Hey! A helicopter has just arrived! Maybe we will have some fresh news? Kindly, listen! I'm Inspector Manning from Scotland Yard. I do not think you understand exactly who Reptile is. Sure we know who it is inspector! A crazy old professor with a clown costume! Page five: Not at all! The professor, Mark Bowen, here. Who was Professor Androphis' assistant will explain to you. He was the assistant of this monster? So he is definitely in cahoots with him! Calm down, please, in the name of the law! I am afraid that words are useless, my poor Manning. So. What is this? Boom! Page six: Bon Jovi! Its reptile with the tanks! He is wanted dead or alive! I am your master to all! You owe me absolute obedience! Good grief! The tanks are invading the airfield! They aim their weapons against our aircraft! Boom! Boom! Boom! It’s wild in the streets! Page seven: Blam! Blam! Kaboom! Let’s leave before they fire on us! Save your selves! Run for your lives! Head for the hills! Hey! The government! The government must do something quickly! The government is far away, Manning. It is up to us to act! Reptile looks towards our helicopter. The cannon of his tank swings towards us. Page eight: Demolish, hiss, that device! At my command! Huh! Huh! My blood is heating up in my veins! My strength is ebbing! I become a man again! He is re-metamorphosing into a man again Manning! We must seize this opportunity! Alright Mark! Page Nine: Bowen, you young fool! You will not get me! I have a bulb of my marvelous potion! Your potion, here you are! As Bowen throws a stone at the professor, knocking the potion from his hand. Huh! No! Page Ten: You do not have me yet, little fool! Misfortune! He had time to enter the tank and close the turret! Klang! We still await your orders, master! Will you shut up, you little fools? Huh! The blood freezes in my veins! My strength grows, increases, multiplies! I metamorphose! No need to waste precious shells! Driver! Reverse gear! Page Eleven: Argh! Damnation! Bowen He's falling off the tank! Vroom! Ha-ha-ha! He is at my mercy! Crush it! Mark! Mark! Page Twelve: Guh! You will pay for that! Sorry to upset you, Professor Androphis! Hurry up! Hurry up! Hiss! Aim this, hiss, piece, hiss, at those fools! Oh! It is impossible to shoot them! The other tanks can bear on them! Order everyone! Cut off the route of these two men! Page Thirteen: I believe that we are baked! Bang, bang! Drop me, Manning! I can stand on my legs very well! Sorry Sergeant, but I have no choice! Blam! Thwack! Argh! Let us take shelter here. Bang, bang! What shelter? Between the tanks! They will finally get us. There is a solution! Come! Page Fourteen: Let's pull the sergeant out of the hatch! Understood! Eh? What, what are you doing? I do not think we have much time to talk, Mark! Excuse us! We will have a nice chat about this later! Smack! Thump! Whack! Good! And now Manning? I once served in the "Royal Armored Corps”! Let us see if I can still drive this kind of cart. Page Fifteen: Be careful when starting, Mark! What are you going to do? Vroom! Give Reptile his own coin! Do exactly as I tell you, Mark! The next instant! Vroom! Are they cursed? They will pay for this! After that warning shot, let us finish it! Watch out Manning! Do not forget that there are perfectly innocent boys in that tank! Page Sixteen: Ka-rumpf! Just a shot in the tracks, to stop that chariot. Those idiots! They will pay for that! For the moment I have to slip away! But I have not said my last word! What is happening? He threw smoke grenades. Where did he go? No idea. With the powers at his disposal, he may very well be invisible in the vegetation. He can take on their colors, like a chameleon! Page Seventeen: It was not Reptile's means of escaping Mark Bowen and the Inspector. He was at their feet, in a drainpipe. Huh. It is terribly narrow, even for me. Not far away. It is crazy, their trick! Do you understand anything about it, Jeff? First of all, tanks destroy our planes. And then they shoot each other! The radio, what does it say? The most complete panic! London is upside down! The government has barricaded itself in Whitehall. This Reptile has wreaked havoc everywhere! Exactly, young fool! Eh! What is? What! Page Eighteen: And again, the secret ring of the terrible character spat twice its stupefying liquid. Muf! Urgh! Ha-ha-ha! Hiss! You are in my power, hiss! At the same time. We will have to take the crews of these tanks to the hospital, Mark! They are like zombies, yes! And, you will see, when they are no longer under the effect of the drug that the professor administered to them, they will not remember anything! What's going on at the base? A bomber is in motion! Attention! He is heading towards us. Page Nineteen: Professor Androphis is on board! Get down! Throm! Where shall we take you, Master? Ha-ha-ha! To London of course! What a pity that we didn't reduce these little fools to a pulp! So, according to you, there are bombs on board? Of course, since it is one of the bombers which was to attack the tanks! He is headed for London! Page Twenty: A little later, while dozens of military ambulances took away the soldiers of the still dazed tank crews. Of course sir. But you still have to have the time. They evacuate the capitol? And. Do you know what the Prime Minister has imagined? Someone would have to break into the reptile’s bomber. It is quite simple of course! Just land on a cloud and hitchhike when the cuckoo shows up! No! There is a pilot here who is the king of acrobats. One of the guys who perfected the technique of in-flight refueling at supersonic speeds. I see! You still have to find a guy crazy enough or with a death wish to be dropped on the bomber and. Page Twenty-One: It is all decided, Mark! You! You know her Reptile well enough to stand up to him. You have proven it. Wait! Wait! Am I dreaming? Ou-la-la! And, a little later. It is a very small variant of in-flight refueling. Of course you will be attached with a strong nylon rope. Oh! Too kind! I will deposit you on it like a flower, and all you have to do is punch a hole in the fuselage. Of course. It is childish, a piece of cake! Truly Mark, you do not sense of. Boof! I have embarked in the labor! Might as well go all the way! Page Twenty-Two: However. And Now Master? Head towards the center of the, hiss, city! The first, hiss, bomb is to be dropped in Hyde Park, as a warning! Here it is in front of us! Your turn to play, Professor Bowen! Play? Speak for yourself! Good luck Mark! Don’t mention it, Manning! It is the only way to stop this madman. If it was not me, it would be someone else then. Attention, Mark! Page Twenty-Three: A few more feet! Five, four, three, two, one! Hurrah! At this speed, the wind has an incredible force. Page Twenty-Four: It cuts easier than I thought! Bravo! He is in! I can cut the rope! God be with you Mark! Listen people of Great Britain! It is Reptile, your master, who speaks to you! Page Twenty-Five: Here is my first and last warning! Boom! Give me your submission, hiss, quickly or the next, hiss, bomb will be for parliament. Ha-ha-ha! I am not joking! I know Androphis that you never joke! I must hurry! Page Twenty-Six: Huh! A turbulent air pocket. What is this! Bowen! I don't know how you came here, you fool! But I have you now! He directs the bezel of his infernal ring towards me! You are at my mercy! I will. You do not have too! Shtoom! Page Twenty-Seven: Yah! Curse you! I have you, insane as you are! Poor fool! Who can boast of holding the reptile that I am! Ha-ha-ha! I will not kill you! You will be my slave until the end of your days! His arm wraps around my neck like a snake! However. Mark! Mark! Mark Bowen! You hear me? Answer me! Maybe his radio has been damaged, Inspector? Page Twenty-Eight: Hey! They are heading straight for the post office tower! They will fly into it! Thwam! Page Twenty-Nine: What is going on you fools!? Argh! The crew members are like puppets! You have to give them orders at all times, otherwise they will do anything! Smash! Now the plane is crashing with its load of bombs! Do something imbeciles! Take back control of the horrible aircraft! Page Thirty: Now that they received orders, the pilots worked miracles to recover control, but. The aircraft is perfectly ungovernable master! There’s something wrong with the aircraft today! The lightbulbs getting dim! We’re living on the edge! I am cutting the switches! Sha-toom! Thrunk! Shrunk! Page Thirty-One: They made the plane dive towards the Thames! The bombs did not explode! And the people who were in it? You can't see a living soul moving! Hello! Hello! Send ambulances! Police boats, Helicopters. During this time. I was hiss, saved by the prodigious elasticity of my body. Hiss, my plan did not yield the expected results. But I have others, hiss, in mind! While the Reptile escapes. My Poor head! Oh! Page Thirty-Two: Already the cars are flowing. We-we! We-we! We-we! Aim your weapons at that gap! Attention! Someone there! Reptile! No! Page Thirty-Three: It is not him! It's Professor Bowen! Too late. Bang! Yeah! You killed him! But! But! You said! They killed Bowen! And now they're so unhappy about it that they do not bother about me anymore! Page Thirty-Four: Ha-ha-ha! For now I will take my normal appearance then. Meanwhile. No trace of the Reptile? The crew members took a nasty blow! It is necessary to make a general alert to G Q for the recovery of Reptile. But, Mister Bowen sir? Page Thirty-Five: Insane luck! Just a scratch on the skull! He’s living on a prayer! Huh! It's the first time. How glad I am to miss a target, sir! A little later in a nearby hospital, Bad medicine is what Mark Bowen needs. Glad to have you back whole, old man. But Reptile has slipped through our fingers again. And the crew members? They have all kinds of small fractures on the right and on the left and the effects of the drug that Reptile administered to them are beginning to dissipate! They are lucky guys too! You have to expect everything from reptile! He can attack anyone. From the queen! To the Prime Minister. Yes! Reptile is capable of anything! What is going to happen? Don't miss the next episode.

Rahan. Episode thirteen. As Crao would have done. The son of Crao fears neither the anger of the sky nor that of the mountain of fire! In the tornado that furiously swept the jungle, the thunder and the lightning sometimes obscured the fire of the volcano. And Rahan defied the elements, as once did Crao, his father. Rahan does not fear the lances of fire. In the safety of the trees, protected from the slicing wind, worried animals observed "this one-who-walked-upright" without understanding his audacity. Page Two: Nor making sense of the clamors which rose to the foliage, whipped by the tempest. Crao-the-Brave would not have been afraid! Rahan is not afraid! Ra-ha-ha! Rahan! Crao! Crao! A great green and yellow bird listened to these names howl in the wind. A violent gust suddenly snatched it from its perch, and carried it away to the muddy bank of the nearby pond. A hideous head, immediately sprung from the mud. The mouth opened to catch the prey offered by the wind. Rahan had seen it! His ivory knife flew to the Iguana’s throat and, as the sky was illuminated at the same time, it was said that the mortal blow had been struck by the lightning. Slak! Page Three: Rahan is content to have saved "The talking bird". Crao! Crao! Crao! The parrot fluttered towards the bushes where it disappeared. And I am happy that he was able to kill the "Beast-that-comes-from-the-mud”. The son of Crao felt nothing but repugnance for these monsters that haunted the swamps. He was walking away from the iguana when everything flared up around him. Lightning had struck a nearby tree trunk. Schriak! And it was impossible for him to avoid the big tree that came falling down! A branch struck him. The leaves buried him. Argh! When he recovered his senses the tornado had passed. He was stretched out in the bright sun, at the feet of ten men. Page Four: His hand, which he instinctively brought to his sheath, could not find the polished ivory handle of the knife. His weapon was missing. And also had disappeared his necklace of claws, a unique memory of his clan! Rahan did not seek to quarrel with you! Why did you steal his arms? He had just seen the knife in the belt of a blond man and recognized his necklace among those worn by the same man. Rahan has stolen the ball of fire! Tarik is right! All of the hunters saw the fireball fall. They ran because they badly needed the fire. They found you asleep under a tree, but the ball of fire was no longer there! What did you do with it Rahan? Where did you hide it? Page Five: The son of Crao smiled. Rahan's brothers also, in the past, watched for the wrath of the sky to procure the balls of fire! But they are not ignorant of the fact that if these balls often cause the trees they hit to crumble, they sometimes disappear on their own! That is what happened! It had rained heavily and the foliage was waterlogged. The fireball extinguished itself! Rahan Lies! He wants to keep the fire to himself! Tarcik knows it! Tarcik knows everything! Rahan understood that this man was the sorcerer of the clan. Rahan knows more things than Tarcik! He does not wait for the wrath of heaven to give him fire!! He makes it spring from the "stones-that-throw-stars"!! Page Six: Tarcik-the-sorcerer wanted to prevent the captive from hitting the flints, but the chief of the clan intervened. Let it be, Tarcik! Clack, Clack! A moment later a clamor greeted the miracle. The son of Crao had created flames from a carpet of dry leaves. Now your clan will no longer need to chase fireballs! Rahan is a greater wizard than Tarcik! The blond man growled dully. Tarook can only claim this if Rahan defeats Tarcik in combat! Rahan accepts the combat! Tarook also accepts it, but you will have to fight unarmed, like loyal hunters! The wizard went to his hut to put away his necklaces and the knife. Page Seven: No one saw him take a tiny thorn from a greenish liquid. The "drink-that-brings-sleep” will help Tarick! A moment later the two men confronted each other. The son of Crao, more nimble, quickly took the advantage. Suddenly off-balancing his opponent with a skillful feint. Ha-ha-ha! You see that Rahan knows more things than Tarcik! He wrestled the sorcerer to the ground when he suddenly felt a prick in the wrist. Oh! For him, the men watching the fight faded into a fog. What! What, Rahan, not, not. Page Eight: Tarcik abruptly freed himself and struck, to deceive his people. Here is what it costs to challenge Tarcik! Sclack! Is Tarook convinced? Tarik just proved he is the strongest! Defeated by the drug, Rahan lay at the feet of the cheat. Whoever dares to challenge your sorcerer deserves only one fate. To be thrown to the iguanas! Uh, uh. Is not your verdict too cruel Tarcik? Nothing is too cruel when it comes to punishing a sacrilegious being! Some men were already carrying the inert body of r Rahan towards the ponds. A yellow and green bird passed, uttering curious cries. Crao! Crao! Crao! Page Nine: Rahan taught us how to make fire with the "star-throwing-stones". We will have to spare him! If we throw him in the pond, he will be devoured by the iguanas! Crao! Crao! Crao! But if we disobey the wizard, his anger will be turned against us! We can obey Tarcik while giving Rahan a chance! Deposit him down here on the bank. He might come to his senses before the iguanas discover him! The men left, abandoning Rahan on the muddy bank. A moment later "The speaking bird" hovered above the inanimate form. Page Ten: He landed on the chest of the man who had saved him, constantly shouting the name that he had heard in the storm. Crao, Crao, Crao! And this name, repeated a hundred times, seeped into the mind of the still unconscious Rahan. Yes. I am Rahan. The son of Crao. He relived as in a dream the scenes of his childhood. That of the return of the hunters, led by his father Crao-the-sage. That of that dreadful night when the Blue Mountain, vomiting its entrails of fire, had destroyed his entire clan. That of Crao dying in agony, who had given him the necklace of claws. Each of these claws represents a quality of "Those-who-walk-upright". Page Eleven: Here is that of "Goodness". Then that of "Courage". And here is that of "Loyalty". Since all of the clan hunters. Are dead. And I'm going. To, join them. This necklace comes to you Rahan! You will wear it as. I have. Worn it a long life trying, To be worthy of what it represents. This last vision fades when Rahan feels the blows on his chest. Crao, Crao, Crao! Crao, Crao, Crao! The reeds parted in front of a large iguana and the bird, to alert the man of the danger, multiplied the pecks and cried even more. Page Twelve: The mists that shroud Rahan's brain suddenly dissipate. He propped himself up on one elbow and he understood. Rahan thanks "The Talking Bird"! But he won't be able to face the "Beast-that-comes-from-the-mud" without his knife! The parrot had taken refuge on a low branch. The iguana stared at the man and the latter, intrigued, observed his forearm. While fighting with Tarcik, Rahan was pricked by something. Here on the wrist. It was not the wizard's fist that stunned Rahan, but that scratch! Displacing itself slowly and heavily, the iguana prepared to attack. Page Thirteen: Himself, Rahan sought refuge. And he feel his legs stuck deep in the mud. What would Crao have done? What would Crao so do? A second iguana appeared on his left, even more monstrous. This one seemed to come from the mud itself. Without his knife, Rahan is lost! Argh! Rahan, knows what Crao would have done! But the Long Branch, though sharp, only scratched the side of the beast. It was then that a third monster emerged, and then a fourth! Crao said: "When your strength equals that of the enemy, fight him!” “But if you are too weak, delay this combat until later!” Page Fourteen: Unarmed, Rahan was helpless against this herd of armored monsters. And these moved easily, while the sucking of the mud weighed down his legs! “When the mountain is too steep, go around it!” Also spoke Crao. He dived into the pond, the only way out of his situation. In the water, he regained his energy. As he reached the other bank the bird fluttered close to him, still encouraging him with his cries. Crao! Crao! Crao! He soon saw over there, the iguanas killing each other. His clamor thundered over the jungle. Ra-ha-ha! It was then that a large paw, both clawed and webbed, struck from the mud. A fifth monster was waiting for him on this shore! Page Fifteen: His fingers, desperately searching the mud, pulled out a long flint. The god of hunters is with Rahan! He can now fight the "Beast-that-comes-from-the-mud"! As Crao would have done! Ra-ha-ha! The hideous chest throbbed above him. The sharp flint plunged into it several times. Rahan is victorious! He is worthy of the claw of "Courage"! His hand went to his neck and he suddenly remembered that Tarcik had taken his necklace. Page Sixteen: Instinctively he carried the flint to his little sheath. And. Tarcik also stole Rahan's knife! But the sorcerer will give him back both! The moon was shining on the jungle, when the monster appeared to the men of the village. Flee! Flee! The swamp beast wants revenge! Perhaps he does not forgive the clan for sacrificing "He-who-makes-fire-with-stones-that-throw-stars!" The hunters scatter in the thickets, fleeing the iguana which, standing with its outstretched claws, had never charged so quickly! Tarcik-the-sorcerer made the great mistake of lingering in his hut. The hunters are foolish. Never do the iguanas venture so far as the village! This one will pass on its way! Page Seventeen: He was about to grab the ivory knife when a dreadful figure stood out behind him. Argh! Tarcik-the-disloyal triumphed over Rahan by drugging him! But by devouring Rahan I inherited his anger and I come to avenge him! Avoiding the claws of the monster, the frightened sorcerer fled into the jungle. Tarcik must have had the wrong drink! He must have drunk "the-water-which-gives-nightmares"! The ponds shimmered, under the moon, through a gap in the clouds. The sorcerer rushes towards them, hoping to find refuge there. To me! To me! You must help your wizard! Page Eighteen: But no one heard Tarcik's calls, nor his cries of distress when he got stuck in the mud. To me! Help me hunters! I am going to die! No one heard his screams of terror when the iguanas, emerging from the darkness, crawled towards this prey that was henceforth at their mercy. No one except the son of Crao, who got rid of the nauseating iguana skin under which he had hidden. The "Beasts-from-the-mud" have made Tarcik pay for his cowardice! When the sun came back the surface of the ponds was calm. A light wind bent the tall reeds in the heart of which, no doubt, slept the sated iguanas. Page Nineteen: Rahan proceeded as if through a rosary, the claws of the necklace that he had recovered, along with his knife, from the hut of the sorcerer. Here is the one, from "Good". Rahan was good when he revealed to this clan the secret of fire! And here is that of “courage”. Rahan was courageous in killing the "Beast-that-comes-from-the-mud"! As always, the son of Crao had been faithful to the oath made long ago, on the blue mountain, to the old chief as he died. He proudly tapped the polished handle of his ivory knife and off he went, straight for the sun that had always drawn him. Page Twenty: But he was only a son of fierce ages where everything was fighting for life. So his hand cried out on the knife when the clan arose before him. Tarcik disappeared last night! If he has gone back to the lands of cold where he came from, our clan will not regret it! Because Tarcik too often thought of very bad things! Rahan, you who can do so many miracles, do you want to become our new wizard? No Tarook! A clan does not need a sorcerer! A wise and courageous leader is sufficient! Farewell Brothers! Rahan plunged into the jungle where the birds were already chattering. One of them, yellow and green, escorted him for a very long time, constantly shouting the only word he knew of the language of "those-who-walk-upright". Crao! Crao! Crao!

Rahan. Episode Twelve. The little Man. The discovery of a raft stranded on the sand of a creek stupefied Rahan less than the strange traces which started from that raft. They are neither those of a man, nor those of a beast! Rahan has never seen such tracks! Knife in hand, and on the lookout, the son of Crao followed the mysterious trail. And suddenly. “Baghae”! Page Two: Replacing the first, other traces appeared, and he recognized these ones. "Baghae", the panther pounced on its prey here! As the roar of the wild beast rose not far away, the son of Crao dashed into the thicket. Rahan wants to know! He wants to know what strange game "Baghae" has killed today. Oh! The panther, squatting twenty paces from him, still had his prey in his mouth. A little man! “Baghae” wanted to let his little ones have the pleasure of shredding his prey! The young child was indeed alive. The beast abandoned him to face the man. Page Three: Fight "Baghae"! It will be less easy for you to defeat Rahan than a little man! Ra-ha-ha! Rahan and the panther disappeared for a moment in the tall grass, then reappeared further on, wildly intertwined. The child was screaming with fear, frightened by this tumult. He could not understand that he was the stake in this fierce combat. And the three little ones of the “Baghae”, crouching under a bush, meowing softly. They did not know either! A terrible claw had just torn the ivory knife from Rahan's fingers. He dove for his weapon as the panther leapt. Page Four: The son of fierce ages dodged and brutally wrestled the beast to the ground. Thus mastered, "Baghae" was at the mercy of the man. Here is what it costs to cowardly attack the little men! The ivory blade was about to strike a mortal blow. When the mewing of young felines became mournful. You beg Rahan! You are afraid that he will kill! Rahan hesitated with his knife brandished. The little man has a mother, which he needs! “Baghae” is also a mother, thought Rahan. He suddenly sat up, freeing the beast. Go “Baghae”, go! Rahan spares you! Rahan does you grace! Page Five: The panther and her cubs disappeared into the forest. The little man wanted to stand up. And landed heavily on his behind. The son of Crao chuckled. Rahan understands why your tracks surprised him. You still only know how to walk on “all fours”! "Those-who-walk-upright" always start their life like this. But where do you come from, little man? How did you come here? Amused and concerned, Rahan returned to the great river. No doubt you crawled on this raft to play. It got loose and the current carried you away! The little man, far too young to talk, emitted only little sounds. Sometimes plaintiff, sometimes joyful. Page Six: Rahan will return you to yours. The Son of Fierce Ages believed that the child's clan could only live upstream of the great river. That is why shortly after, he tried to go up this one. But the current was very strong. And this fight against the river will soon prove impossible. Since the path of water is impossible for us, we will travel on land! The bank was steep but this was no obstacle for the son of Crao, whose clan had once lived in the Blue Mountains. And the little man was but a light burden on his sturdy shoulders, Night will fall soon. I hope you're not afraid of the night like Rahan used to be! Page Seven: Rahan remembered that time when he feared the darkness, and how he had conquered this anguish. A large slab of bark reminds him of a distant childhood memory. The “Little Men” are fragile. But the cold of the night won't bite you! His knife cut the bark. His skillful fingers tied vines. Shortly after, he had a curious cradle-hammock. Which was swinging under a tree. Dry and tender leaves garnished it. And he watched the little man fall asleep quickly. And the son of Crao dozed off in his turn, on the earth, his ivory knife close at hand. Page Eight: He dreamt that he was suddenly attacked by a beast, without having had time to get the child off his shoulders. And also the dawn found him anxious. Rahan must be able to fight with the "Little Man" on his shoulders! Rahan's knife should have a long reach. A very long reach, like the spears of certain hunters! One idea, in the son of fierce ages, always leads to another. A moment later he had cut a bamboo. As the child picked up the knife he exclaimed. Stop! Do not touch! These things are not for "Little Men"! Page Nine: With binding at the end of the bamboo, the ivory knife becomes a solid spear. Which allows him shortly after, to nail to the ground a snake that stood in his way. Astride his shoulders, the "Little Man" sometimes showed his joy by tugging his long hair. And Rahan felt happy. Happy. For a long time he followed the great river which meandered at the bottom of the gorge. And suddenly his heart sank. Ahead of him opened a wide crevasse, at the bottom of which rumbled a torrent, increasing into a mighty river. Will Rahan have to retrace his steps? Did he walk a whole day unnecessarily!? Page Ten: The wall was too steep to descend towards the river. And no tree allowed him to throw a "bridge" across this chasm, as he had once done. Only Rahan could have crossed the abyss, he knew he was capable of such a leap! But there was the "Little Man"! He is not strong enough to hold on to Rahan. And Rahan can't hold it because he needs both hands! Oh! Rahan knows what to do! A moment later, ignoring the cries of the "Little Man", Rahan bound his legs and arms with a vine. Then he threw his "spear" onto the other side of the crevasse, as much not to hinder his jump as to prevent himself from hesitating. This knife is too valuable for Rahan. Now even if he is scared, Rahan will have to jump! Clack! Page Eleven: Seizing the vine with the moaning child, he placed it on his back, like a hunter with his quiver. Then he took off. Trust me, “Little man”! He ran towards the gaping chasm with his precious burden. Twenty steps separated him from the void. Fifteen. Ten. Five. All his muscles relaxed and he seemed to fly away. His fingers opened to grip the ledge he knew he might reach, perhaps only just! A cry of fright interrupted the cry of victory. In the shock the vine holding the child had broken. And only a prodigious reflex from Rahan allows him to catch in flight the "Little Man". Page Twelve: Holding the child with one hand, the son of Crao clung to the cliff with the other. He no longer had that hand to pull himself up, he and the "Little Man"! It was a slow and painful recovery. His elbow finally rested on the rock. His chest followed. They were saved. Rahan has never been so scared in his life! He is proud to have brought you to this side of the abyss "Little man"! On this side of the crevasse a gentle slope descended towards the river. The son of fierce ages retrieved his spear with joy. It is with the same joy that he projected it, shortly after, towards these curious wooden fruits whose flavor he had once savored. Page Thirteen: He broke one on a stone. Drink "Little man' Drink! “Those-who-run-in-the-trees, the monkeys, love this milk. And we are not much different from them. Rahan remembered the gestures he had seen made to the women of his horde when he himself was only a "Little man". The child babbled and struck his head with his little hand, as he descended towards the scintillating river. I think this time we found your clan! Look over there. In the distance in a loop of the great river, stood huts. The rafts lined up on the bank announced it as a village of fishers. Page Fourteen: The son of Crao, who had entered under the foliage, heard calls rising in a language he did not know and he saw men appear. Nak, Quadak. Nayka! Nawaki Naariik! Nako Wouandak las da! Here is the one who kidnapped Kadik! Capture him brothers! Capture him! He must be punished! Rahan did not understand these words, but he saw the clan rush. The father of the "Little man" is perhaps among them, he thought. And Rahan cannot fight with this clan. The son of Crao dropped his spear at his feet to prove his good intentions. But the men approached him and brutally seized the child. A moment later they dragged him towards the village. Page Fifteen: A little after. Chakahik. Yawaoillaki Ouadak Kazouk! Here is what I do with your child-stealing weapon! Crack! Makaya nakaihi Jik! Mogo nako zaraylac warten! Your fate is in the hands of the parents of Kadik that you have made cry so much! They will decide how you die! A woman tenderly hugged the "Little Man" against her. Her companion growled. Nak Nayka Ouadak Kazouk! Naikala Jiako! The child thief must be delivered to the beasts of the forest! Rahan was indignant when he was tied up in a clearing. But these men did not understand his explanations any more than he understood their accusations! And the son of Crao found himself alone, meditating on the ingratitude of “Those-who-walk-upright". Page Sixteen: His heart suddenly stopped beating when he heard, very close, the growl of the panther. “Baghae”! “Baghae” and her little ones did indeed appear. The son of fierce ages, crucified on the ground, was at the mercy of the beasts. They approached, their eyes sparkling. A growl came from the panther’s chest. Rahan belongs to you, “Baghae”! Rahan is yours! Kill "Baghae" kill! What are you waiting for? Kill!? The beast was slowly circling the man. It sniffed for a long time the bound limbs, the torso, the face. Do not torment me for this long, “Baghae”! Kill! Kill! Page Seventeen: But the panther slowly turned around and, with a slight growl, invited her young to follow her. A moment later the beasts had disappeared into the forest. Rahan had spared the “Baghae”. And the “Baghae” in turn shows mercy by sparing him! Would the beasts be more loyal, more grateful than "those-who-walked-upright"?! Incomprehensible cries arose from the village of fishers. One word kept coming up. "Kadik"! ”Kadik”! “Kadik”! A bush spread aside in front of the "Little Man". Who wobbled on his legs. And the child clutched Rahan's knife! Oh! Page Eighteen: Stumbling, falling on his behind, and getting up, he approached. Come, child, come! Deliver your friend! The child sat near Rahan, and played with the knife. Cut those vines, little one! Cut! The "Little Man" did not understand. Babbling, he hit Rahan with the handle of the knife. He saw Rahan use the knife. He imitates Rahan! He has returned with the knife, and plays with striking it too! The infant had just reversed the weapon. He observed with amusement his yellowish reflection in the ivory blade. No! Little one! No! Page Nineteen: In the surrounding thicket the fishermen had spread out and were calling. Kadik? Kadik! Alioaka Nayda Jiako Nogo Jiako? Wartenne Kazouka! Nahyaka!! Perhaps the enemy has freed himself, woman? Maybe he took away our Kadik again! We should have killed him!! Kan chakalac glahak! Kan! Kan! No Glahak! Look at that! Look! The man and the woman, Kadik's parents, had stopped. What they saw in the clearing made their hearts beat strangely. Ouakas Nai Joka naka glahak maioc ka! He behaves as with you, Glahak! As with you! Over there, the enemy was still crucified, his knife resting on his chest. And Kadik, his cheek stuck to that of the enemy, babbled as he had never done! Page Twenty: The little fingers of the child lingered on the eyes, caressed the nose, and the lips of Rahan. Nogo kan kazoudi! Ganach dac! Kadik yaka! This man is not an enemy Ghalak! Kadik tells us! Kadik proves it to us! Under the reassuring caresses of the "Little Man", Rahan closed his eyes. But he heard the horde approaching. He also heard, without understanding them, the orders of the chief. Nak kado lahisac! Noka o radai! The River Clan was wrong! Release this man! Kadik's father gently pushed aside his son who was clinging to the captive's neck. Then he seized the knife. The two men exchanged a long look and the son of Crao understood that "Those-who-walk-standing" could also have gratitude. Happily, he waited for the ivory blade to cut his bonds.

Rahan. Episode Eleven. The Men with Heavy Legs. Back "Chinca"! This meat belongs to Rahan! Rahan, who was away from his fire fetching dead wood, heard the "Chincha" too late. The strange beast, half-dog, half-cat, was already leaping on a quarter of meat where the son of Crao had made the mistake of dropping his knife. The lynx's fangs snapped close to the weapon and he immediately disappeared into the copses taking his theft with him. Page Two: Rahan lunged forward. His ivory knife was so precious to him, that to recover it, he was ready to face the beast with his bare hands. But the fight did not take place, because a heavy rain suddenly fell, erasing the traces of "Chincha" the lynx. The "Chincha" will devour the meat and Rahan will never find his knife again. The wind was now blowing in gusts. And the son of Crao dug a shelter to protect himself from the hurricane which he felt was imminent. He had just snuggled up in a niche in the rock when the winds, the rain and the thunder raged at the same time. The Tornado swept through the great forest with savage violence. Page Three: Rahan knows that the wrath of heaven does not last long! The stronger they are, the shorter they are! And indeed, it was soon calm. The great black shades tore in the sky and the bamboos of the forest straighten towards the reappearing sun. Rahan will never find the trail of "Chincha”! He will have to make himself another weapon! In these fierce times "Those-who-walk-upright" the. Men only knew the club, the spear, or the stone axe. Fewer still were those who hunted with bows. The ground suddenly shook under the monster charging the son of Crao. Only Rahan's legs can help him! Rahan must flee! Page Four: To flee would have been wisdom. But Rahan was reluctant to do so before fighting. Furious, he seized one of the very long bamboos broken by the storm. He waited for the monster, the point of this huge spear forward. And the woolly Rhinoceros ran straight at the man. The shock was terrible! Rahan held his weapon firmly, but suddenly it bent. Zinc! And he felt himself suddenly thrown backwards, into the bushes! Rahan, who was unaware of the flexibility of bamboo, had no time to reflect on the present phenomenon. The Rhinoceros had turned around and was charging again. The danger was so close that only instinct could aid him. Page Five: And this instinct commanded in him a strange reflex. That of leaving the ground, of clinging to the bamboo. Ra-ha-ha! The monster's horn mowed down this ridiculous perch and the son of Crao once again rolled in the grass. But his victory cry thundered however! Ra-ha-ha! Rahan does not fear you anymore! He now knows how to dodge your attacks! At the third charge of the rhinoceros it was no longer instinct that guided Rahan but lucid reflection. Approach! Approach! He rose this time with lightness, leaping over the woolly spine of the monster, falling supplely behind it! Page Six: Undoubtedly because of its useless attacks, the pachyderm moved away heavily. Leaving the clearing to this invulnerable enemy. Ra-ha-ha! You flee! Rahan thoughtfully watched his long bamboo lance for a long time. Here is the difference between "Those-who-walk-upright" and the other species, he thought. Animals always fight in the same way. The man imagines new tricks, new weapons, new displays! Rahan wanted to verify his discovery. Ten times, twenty times, he ran, suddenly driving the long bamboo into the ground, rising, and falling fifteen paces further! Ra! Page Seven: Had it not been for the loss of his knife, perhaps that day when the son of Crao invented the pole vault would have been marvelous. Rahan flies almost like a bird! It is not this puddle of water that will stop him! Intending to cross the little pool. Rahan made the mistake of forgetting the slime! No sooner had he left the ground than the bamboo sank under him. And he found himself wading through stagnant water! It was at the same time that shouts resounded! He was pulling himself up on the muddy bank of the pond when the men appeared. From their cries and their brandished axes, he knew he could not avoid a fight! Page Eight: Indeed, a few moments later. Back! Back! Rahan hates to fight with "Those-who-walk-upright"! Let him go on his way! The long bamboo hissed mowing down the legs of the boldest attackers. The ardor of the son of fierce ages was such that he managed to break the circle of men. And disappear into the thickets of the forest. Rahan has gained only a respite. He does not know this forest. And the hunters will catch up with him quickly! But why do "those-who-walk-upright" act like this? Why fight? Why kill yourself? Page Nine: "Those-Who-Walk-Upright" are one horde! The great horde of men! One day all the clans will admit it and will not kill each other anymore! But that day was still far away and Rahan had to flee. He sometimes used his bamboo pole to cross an obstacle. He was jumping a big uprooted tree when. Argh! He fell into a deep trap that the tree trunk had concealed from him! A moment later, still dazed, he caught a glimpse of his Bamboo stuck high above him, in the branches hiding the pit. Page Ten: The earthen wall has smooth and the thin vines hanging from it were too fragile to climb up. If Rahan does not escape from this trap he will be captured by the hunters! What? What? Grrh! A growl had just sounded in the pit and he spotted the wild beast lurking in the shadows. The “Chincha”! The lynx, which had been surprised for a moment by the fall of the man, picked itself up to pounce. You are trapped, too, and you are furious! The beast pounced, bellowing a savage cry. Its claws gripped the shoulders of Rahan, who fell. Page Eleven: Man and beast rolled in the shadow of the trap. Rahan was trying to ward off the claws of this savage from his face. The Claws. The fangs. The cruel gaze of the feline. Claws again, and again. Rahan rolled onto his side. And suddenly felt a soft, wet mass against his cheek. He quickly turned his eyes. And. His knife was still stuck in the quarter of meat! Screaming with joy, he seized the ivory handle and snatched the weapon. Ra-ha-ha! It is Rahan’s turn to claw, “Chincha”! Page Twelve: The beast's eyes seemed to cross as the blade plunged into his side, straight into the heart. Then his eyes closed as his clawed paws stiffened. He was dead! Rahan, still panting, leaned against the wall. He had, of course, just saved his life. But he was still captive. Recovering his ivory knife however, restored his confidence. How many times had he given silent thanks to this knife! When the hunters come to visit their trap, they will find Rahan there. They will then be able to finish him off in this pit, like a wild animal! Page Thirteen: No! Rahan is not a "Chincha"! He will escape from the trap! The ivory blade was already attacking the wall, digging a small niche. Shortly afterwards the captive had dug a second, then a third. But this earth was too friable and crumbled. And when Rahan tried to climb his "staircase", these holds crumbled under his weight! Rahan cannot escape this way, he thought to himself! He must find something else. Another idea! Oh! The bamboo! The “Other idea”, revealed itself suddenly for the son of Crao to see. Page Fourteen: Rahan knows! The bamboo pole was large enough to allow him to climb out of the pit. But how to reach the Bamboo? He pulled on a thin vine, and it broke off without effort. And attached his knife to the end of the long vine. The rest will depend on the attitude of Rahan. Of attitude, the son of the fierce ages had more than anyone else. At the first throw, the knife fell on the bamboo. A snap, and the line knotted onto the pole. Another jolt, and the pole, unstuck, fell into the trap! Page Fifteen: A moment later, Rahan was slowly climbing towards the opening of the trap. His bamboo did not reach to the opening. And he knew it was in danger of collapsing. But he spotted a strong root to which he could cling. His practiced ear had alerted him to the approach of the hunters. They were still in the distance, and he heard only muffled cries. But these cries, these calls, become clearer from moment to moment. They will arrive just when Rahan emerges from the trap! Rahan’s fingers finally closed on the root. And the Bamboo pole straightened as it was relieved of the weight. Page Sixteen: Despite the peril that still awaited him, the son of Crao could not restrain himself from issuing his cry of victory as he came out of the pit. Ra-ha-ha! And he distinguished the men all around him lying in ambush. They are worried, thought Rahan. They don't understand how Rahan could escape from their trap! The hunters were indeed hesitant. But this hesitation would not last. And Rahan knew it! He bent down, and his head disappeared into the pit. His fingers brushed the end of the bamboo pole. Come! Come! Rahan still needs you! When he straightened up, the hunters launched their attack. They came running from everywhere, surrounding the son of Crao like choice game. Page Seventeen: One man preceded the others. This one, no doubt, desired single combat. He had it! The Bamboo struck him to the ground. Kill him! Kill him! Thwack! And the horde resumed its assault. But these hunters were suddenly immobilized, bewildered. Rahan was charging them! A single man charged at thirty, and this was beyond their comprehension. For what was this curious enemy hoping, with his cumbersome bamboo stick? To scare them? Fifty steps still separated Rahan from his adversaries. Forty. Thirty. Twenty. Page Eighteen: The son of Crao had torn himself off the ground. Jumping over the whole group of hunters. Dumbfounded. Oh! And he fell behind them and ran away laughing. Ha-ha-ha! The "Heavy-legged men" don't know how to hunt birds! Their amazement dissipated, and the men chased Rahan. They threw their axes at the fugitive. Yes, running towards the blue granite cliff. The enemy will be stopped by the great obstacle! We have him! But Rahan was not fleeing at random. Rahan was no beast. Rahan was a thinking man. Page Nineteen: He knew how inaccessible to the "Men-with-heavy-legs" was the overhanging ledge, towards which he directed his course. Rahan will ask of you what he has never demanded! If you help him, he is safe! If you betray him, he is dead! It was at the foot of the steep cliff that the son of the fierce ages seemed to bend himself. But perhaps he had underestimated the leap to be made. For the ledge suddenly seemed to him higher than the bent bamboo. That was when he felt he had to use the "Nerve" of his pole! He jerked his back and abandoned it. Page Twenty: He brutally fell back onto the platform. But no matter his crushed muscles. He had once again triumphed! Below, the horde regarded the pole as if it was a magic item. Fear nothing! It is just a simple bamboo in your forest! Do like Rahan brothers! Observe nature. It is rich in things that can help men. Men like you. Men like Rahan! Rahan may return to this territory, when you have understood that "Those-who-walk-upright" must not hunt their own kind like game! Farewell! Yes, the son of Crao was only a man. And yet when his silhouette stood out against the mountain ridge, in the blaze of the sun, one would have said that he was a god of fierce ages.

Reptile. John Catchpole, and Angus Peter Allan. Episode Seven. The Slave Army. Thanks to Mark Bowen, the police now know the sinister secret of the famous professor Andros Androphis, whom has the power to transform into a reptile and whose goal is to dominate the world by terror. After many adventures, Mark and some policemen find themselves locked in the basement of the professor's house with speckled snakes. Keep whistling, to charm the snakes! You, give me that gun! I have to remove the seals from the cartridges. Here is my penknife, mister! Fast! Fast! Provided that the snakes do not get excited. The pellets would ricochet everywhere and risk injuring us. I think the powder charge will suffice. That's it! You, the whistler, get out of the way! Huh! Page Two. Le Blam! Deja vu Ka-bang! Soufflé Ka-bang! They are all dead! Now you have to reach that lever to open the gate. There! Now we can take care of the professor! The whole country needs to be alerted! Yes, I don't know, we are not at the end of our troubles, I can swear that to you! At the same time. The time has come, come to make a spark the whole world will speak off! An ampoule of my wonderful preparation. Huh! My blood freezes in my veins! My strength is growing! Growing! Growing! I metamorphose! Page Three. Yes! Yes! The time has come to strike, yes! And it is not those ridiculous bars that will stop me! Yes, yes! Hiss! My body is, hiss, like rubber! My hands are lined with adhesive scales, like those of the gecko! Yes! Hiss! There are more explosives, hiss, than I need! Page Four. And then Suddenly. Hey! What is this!? Hiss! You can do nothing against me, you little fool! Huh! Who are you! Sleep! Sleep! Huh! Only two hours later the news was known at the police headquarters. What you predicted is happening! Androphis has just knocked out a guard from the Corman Company to seize a package of explosives! I don't understand! If he wanted to rob a bank or accomplish any coup de main, his faculties as a "Reptile" as he says would be enough. Maybe he wants to explode onto the public stage? Page Five. I believe you are right, Inspector Manning. An instant later. Alert to all patrols, to all police stations! A dangerous criminal is about to blow up a building or a work of art! What building? What work of art? They don't say where this madman will strike. They do not know! This is what is most dangerous! A little later. You tell me that all targets that could be destroyed are being watched, Manning. Yes, Yes! I'm not the good god, Bowen! I can only do what I can! At this same moment. Yes! Yes! I am also a real crocodile, when I please. Yes! Yes! Here it is! My objective! The famous London Bridge! Page Six. The day will soon dawn and "Reptile" has not appeared, Bowen. Maybe he's waiting for the day to. Inspector! Westminster Bridge Guards! They say they just saw something! We are not far from it! Charge! London Bridge! The dream goal, for a nut! There are already agents there! Sorry Sir! It was just this piece of wood. You’ve got wood officer? Wait! We believe we have thought of everything. But there are also reptiles in the water! You also have to view it from that side, Manning! However. Yes, yes! We will laugh! Yes! Yes! Hiss! Page Seven. And I will be able to do even more, when the most famous monument of the Thames sinks into the waters. Manning! I see him! I can shoot just to wound him sir! No! The explosives might go off! Young fool Mark Bowen! But it's too late! Yes! Yes! Nothing can stop me now! Page Eight. Thrak! Crackle! A grappling hook! Fast! What do you want to do? It is madness! And it is up to me to go! There is no other solution! I know him well and you do not! Poor fool! If you want to prevent this charge from exploding, you arrive too late! Yes! Yes! And you jump with it, poor little fool! Page Nine. I could shoot that monster right now! No! The bullet is likely to ricochet and injure Bowen. I am too far! How to do it? As I sway. Oh! He was just. Boom! Page Ten. Huh! Gad! You came close, Mister Bowen! Mad! As you say! Where is he? The damn fool! He ruined everything! You will pay for this! All of you! You! Huh! The blood is warming in my veins! I suffer. I am returning to myself faster than expected. Page Eleven. He lost his "Reptile" appearance! Now he is just an old man and not very strong! Towards him quickly! Puff, puff! I have to return. Puff, puff! A vial of my wonderful potion. To become the invincible "Reptile" again. You are no match for me in running professor! You are cooked! Unfortunately, at this time. Sir! A ship is arriving over there! The bridge employees will be forced to operate the tilting mechanism! Gosh! And Bowen is right in the middle! Page Twelve. At that very moment indeed. Wow! The pavement moves under my feet, thought Bowen. The bridge is rising! Groan, whine, clang, chug, chug. No more catching up with the professor! If only I could jump to the other side! Too bad! I will give it a shot! Page Thirteen. Ouch! Just in time! Now it's the two of us, Professor! I need a few minutes of respite to take the potion. And then I will be safe! Oh! Ha-ha-ha! Found a way to stop this young fool. Gurgle! Gurgle! Page Fourteen. Bowen! I do not resist! I surrender! Ha! Ha-ha-ha! I don't have the slightest confidence in you, Professor Androphis! Ha-ha-ha! Lucky the breeze brings the smell of gasoline in my direction. Approach you fool! Approach! I am too old! I am exhausted, Bowen. I surrender, I tell you! So do not move! I am not moving! Just a little bit. A tiny bit. I tremble, do you understand, at the thought of what will happen to me. Page Fifteen. Ha-ha-ha! Or rather what will happen to you, young fool! What is this! A tanker truck! I understand! Th-wumpf! Woosh! Now the truck is going to jump! Boom! It is impossible to cross this curtain of flames! This madman has escaped me again! Page Sixteen. Ha-ha-ha! Time to become “Reptile” again! Huh! The blood freezes in my veins! My strength is growing, growing! Then a police car appeared. Hello? Hello! Inspector Manning! The monster! It is here! You dare you attack me, you poor fool? We will see what we will see! Ha-ha-ha! What do you see now? Thwack! Page Seventeen. Ah! I'm losing control of the car! Ha-ha! No one can do anything against the invisible "Reptile"! Vram! Goodbye to all of you gentlemen. Hiss! Ha-ha-ha! I just have a fantastic idea! Hiss! I am going to strike a blow that will leave those poor fools speechless! Ha-ha-ha! Police Headquarters. I will climb up the wall. Page Eighteen. And you won't see me, because I also have the power to camouflage myself like the chameleon. And to slip through the narrowest ways, like the serpent! A moment later, in the office of the director of police. Kabang! Huh? Oh! Even before the unfortunate man realized what was happening to him, the serpent's head ring from "Reptile" had struck him in the hand. Argh! Page Nineteen. The drug now circulating in your blood renders you completely harmless. You must obey me. I, I, must, obey, you! Order to all units! Abandon the search for Professor Andros Androphis. Abandon it immediately! Excellent! Hiss! When the effect of the drug wears off you will remember nothing. But, when you wake up, you will do what I am going to ask you! I will do it! However. Abandon the search? This is madness! It is insane yes! The more he anchors himself in his madness, the more dangerous the professor becomes! You are right! We will immediately speak to the director, to try to get him to reconsider the decision. Page Twenty. At full speed, the car arrives at New Scotland Yard, the police headquarters. Skreech! Exactly as, hiss, I expected! Bowen and the police throw themselves head first into my trap! Come in, gentlemen! Director, I would like Mister Bowen to say a few words to you, sir. Then there was a click in the brain of the head official. Kill! Kill Mark Bowen! But Mark had good eyes. Those marks on the hand! The marks of the professor's ring! Page Twenty-One. In the name of "Reptile" die! Ou-la-la! Manning! Master it, by Jove! Krack! Thud! Few! Just in time! Quickly! A doctor! Find out what drug the professor gave him! Meanwhile, firmly convinced that his diabolical trick had obtained its expected ends, the "Reptile" was already far away. Page Twenty-Two. Ha-ha-ha! I will quickly and conveniently get away, before my wonderful potion wears off! When the day came, the professor had resumed his normal appearance. I need to find another "Base" and I think I know where it will be. Two hours later. Let's see! I haven't been here for years. Erh. If I'm not mistaken it is two miles from here in this direction And a little later. The immense greenhouse! It is there. Page Twenty-Three. What a pleasure to see you again, cousin Ebenezer! Oh Andros! What a nice surprise! What brings you to this lost place my good Andros? I read your last communication to the academy. Admirable! On the giant carnivorous plant, my good Andros? This is precisely my star, capable of devouring a calf in no time! A calf. That is almost about the size of a man of your build, isn't it, dear cousin? Ah! I hate that kind of joke! Let us see Ebenezer. Do I have a head for joking? Feed me Seymour! Ah! Ah! Page Twenty-Four. It's even more efficient and faster than a python. Ha-ha-ha! They are amusing, these botanicals! Gorgeous greenhouses! Heat and humidity! Just what the dear little cuties I am going to bring back soon need! Because I have to think about renewing my supply of potion. Ha! My dear cousin had a truck, to transport the bulky plants. Let us see! A little later. In this town I'm not known like in London. Page Twenty-Five. Meanwhile, in one of Scotland Yard's laboratories. At first glance, the drug used by the professor is a derivative of cobra venom. The Professor paralyzed him, and then took the opportunity to hypnotize him and suggest actions to him. It is scary what you say, Bowen! Imagine if he does the same thing with a member of the government, or the army? What else do I know? The craziest things could happen! However, at the Dunwich Zoo. I must not take any missteps if I want to carry out my brilliant plan. To start, let us create a little diversion. Page Twenty-Six. Not a person in sight. An instant later. Oh! A Fire! Move along! Move along! I will call the fire department, Fred. Ha-ha-ha! Just the expected result! A little potion. Page Twenty-Seven. And yet again. My blood freezes in my veins! I am growing stronger and stronger, and stronger! I am metamorphosing with the aid of Reptile Viagra! Becoming "Reptile" again, the Professor emits a long whistle. And immediately, in the building reserved for snakes. Crash! Hiss! Crash! Hiss! Come, my darlings, come! Page Twenty-Eight. This way. We profit from everyone being occupied over there to get away, and. Run and close the doors of the other buildings, Morton! The smoke could poison the animals! Damnation! Something must be done quickly! You take care of him! Page Twenty-Nine. A few seconds later. Argh! What is this?! Gulp! Ha-ha! It is evil! Bravo! You can leave him! Hiss! Everyone in the wagon! A few hours later. Director Sir, the fire is out! We evacuated the public, without saying a word about the snakes. I see Morton. What happened exactly? Page Thirty. My opinion. I think these animals have freed themselves. To escape the fire! I alerted the police. But I was advised not to spread the news. In any case, these animals cannot survive for long in our climate! Of course, sir! What is the use of triggering unnecessary panic! Unfortunately the reptiles had found in the greenhouses of the cousin of Professor Androphis an infinitely more pleasant stay for them than the small cages of the zoo. Ha-ha-ha-hiss! Your Professor is here, hiss! And I will soon carry out my projects! For the moment, let me resume my human appearance. Page Thirty-One. The moment after. The first Objective is going to be crazy fun! What panic in perspective! During that time. He literally vanished! But this zoo story bothers me. Come on! Don’t imagine him everywhere Bowen! But anyway, Manning! You do not find it surprising that of all the animals that were there, only the snakes fled! Meanwhile at that time in the training camp of the moorland heavy tank regiment. The machines are ready for maneuvers, sir! Perfect! We are going to develop the theme of the operation! Tell the crews to be ready to leave at eight o'clock sharp tomorrow morning! Page Thirty-two. Everything must be impeccably planned because, don’t you forget, the shots you are going to perform are with live ammunition! We have made all our arrangements sir! Just below the room where the officers confer. Ha-ha-hiss! The general is there, I feel it. Let, hiss, us, hiss, go silently. Snack! What is? Gurgle! General! You, you! And the sequel unfolds at a fantastic speed. Thak, thak, thak! Page Thirty-three. Hiss! Allow me to introduce myself! Luke, I am your father! And you owe me absolute obedience! A few minutes later. General Challis here! I want to see all the tank crews in the conference room! One after the other! Officers first. And, every time a man walks into the room. Come in, Captain. Sir. This is how, one after another, all the men of the regiment became the slaves of "Reptile". What are you orders master? Page Thirty-four. The next morning. Curious information, Inspector! Highway Brigade sixty-seven reports a column of heavy tanks heading towards London on the A one motorway! Say What? It is perfectly impossible, unless they are driving in reverse! It is “Reptile”, Manning! I would swear! We have to see it up close! This time again, Mark Bowen was speaking the truth. Hiss! Ha-ha-hiss! Before long the whole country will be in my power! A few minutes later the police helicopter flew over the impressive Column. It is an impressive column! Blue Steel, said Manning. What did I tell you, Manning! The professor is on the first tank! How the devil did he manage to get a column like that? Page Thirty-five. Hypnosis Manning! And more Hypnosis! But. Gunner! Just above us! A helicopter! Shoot it down. Thwam! Ka-bang! Garh! Let’s break camp! General alert! A column of heavy tanks is heading for London. A column that behaves as an enemy! Let me talk with that fool, Manning! Page Thirty-six. Allo! Allo! Professor Andophis! Listen very carefully! I shall say this only once! This is Mark Bowen! If these tanks do not stop immediately, we will crush them! If necessary by aerial bombardment! Hiss-ha-ha-hiss! Amusing, Mister Bowen! Nobody in this country gives orders to kill soldiers who do not know what they are doing! I have all the cards in my hands, Bowen! However, not far from there an artillery unit had moved into position. The tank traps are in place, sir! Understood. Capital sport what? We only have to disable the tanks, not destroy them. But what if they open fire? I do not believe this hypnosis story! Never will a British soldier shoot other British soldiers! They are here! Aim for the tracks! Page Thirty-seven. But. Ka-boom! They shoot and we can't do anything against them, sir! They have a much larger range than ours! They broke our obstacles! They will not shoot us! Argh! Boom! Argh! Ka-boom! Nothing can be done! We are at their mercy! Page Thirty-eight. Order them to retreat Manning! They will be massacred to the last! The monster! The despicable monster! Phew! An order to withdraw sir! Let us get out of here, quickly! Don’t stop here! Head for the hills! Run for your life! Ha-ha-hiss! Hiss! They run away like rabbits! And this is just the beginning! The microphone, slave! I will issue my ultimatum! Here it is master! British people! Listen to the word of “Reptile”! Hiss! The government will immediately come to me and submit, or I will destroy London! This time, "Reptile" had all the cards in his hands. Would Great Britain fall under its power? More click-bait in the next episode!

Rahan. Episode Ten. The Flat Beast. The Son of Crao had been observing since dawn this clan whose cave he had discovered. Rahan hasn't eaten for three days! Will he find the welcome he hopes for? He waited cautiously for the departure of the hunters to break cover. "Females-who-walk-upright" are often more generous than their companions. His appearance was greeted by cries of astonishment. Who are you man? What are you doing in horde territory? Page Two: I am Rahan, son of Crao, friend to all who walk upright. Rahan has had no luck hunting and he is hungry. The women exchanged worried looks. Two from the hunt have also abandoned our clan. We only have this meagre quarter of meat left! If Rahan is hungry, give it to him! No! Why give the meat of the clan to this "enemy". Men would punish us for this crime. And they would be right! This woman who had just spoken glared at Rahan with hatred. But her companions did not seem to share her sentiments. You are bad, Lheita! You have less heart than a snake! Chilk is right! Let us give this meat to Rahan. Page Three: Rahan thanks his sisters! When he regains his strength, Rahan will go hunting for their clan! While chewing the meat, Rahan had taken a few steps into the cave. This one was wide and deep. Go no further, Rahan! Only our hunters have the right! Is Rahan not a hunter also? Ignoring Lheita’s order, Rahan took a few more steps. And stupor nailed him to the spot. Oh! What is this? Strange things appeared on the smooth rock. Rahan recognized the silhouettes of these beasts. But these Beasts were flat, stuck on the granite. Page Four: The son of the Feral Ages was still unaware of many of the beliefs, superstitions and customs of certain hordes. A flat beast! And that men were able to represent animals on the rock had never occurred to him. A flat beast, he exclaimed again! He muttered the same words, stroking the reddish figures with his fingers. You must leave, Rahan! The hunters will return! Too late! I hear them coming back! Lheita-the-bad had punctuated these words with a hateful chuckle. You don't have time to run anymore, Rahan! Ha-ha-ha-ha! The horde men appeared and Rahan heard the angry cries of angry hunters. Page Five: Rahan will not run away! Let him hide in the cave waiting for an opportunity to slip away! We have no right to let our people take their anger out on this man! All of the women approved, except Lheita. You betray the clan! No Lheita! And we hope you won't betray us! When the hunters entered the cave, Rahan was lurking at the bottom of it, in the darkness. They did not kill anything and their rage is great, thought Rahan to himself. If they discover Rahan, they will take revenge on him! Away from Rahan, the chief of the clan harshly addressed the women. Page Six: The gods forget our clan, women! They had promised us their help! Should not we kill the buffalo like this! The chief had taken his place in front of the wall and, with an arrow drawn, took aim. At the "Flat Beast"! The arrow ricocheted on the rock. I touch the buffalo! A hit! The gods, give us a new promise! Zlang! Rahan held his breath. He understood better now the meaning of the "Flat Beast”. A curious belief, he thought. They think that by striking the "Flat Beast", the god of the hunt will put within range of their arrows an animal of flesh and blood! Page Seven: The Clan Chief regained a certain good mood. Since the hunt will be good tomorrow, give me the last quarter of meat, woman! Uh, uh, we were too hungry. We, we, we shared it! Rahan was surprised. Chilk is lying! And the others lie too! They gave the meat to an enemy! And there the enemy is! At the bottom of the cave! Rahan fingers twitched on the handle of his ivory knife. But he abandoned the knife. No. Rahan does not want to kill "Those who walk upright". Page Eight: Brandishing spears or axes, a few men darted about. They glimpsed Rahan. Death to the meat thief! Death! But if the son of Crao did not want to kill, he intended not to be killed. A spear snatched from the nearest assailant protected him from a terrifying blow. And violently knocked the legs of a third man from under him. But others attacked, against whom Rahan could not resist for long. A whole clan against a single man! Would the hunters of this Horde be less courageous than their wives! Page Nine: The Melee was as fierce as it was brief. Rahan's feet repelled his adversaries and his fists struck like clubs. But grabbed on all sides and quarters, he disappeared under the pack. Don't kill him! You do not kill an enemy who fights as well as this one! An instant later. Why did you come here looking for that meat, man? Rahan was hungry. And Rahan has always believed that "Those-who-walk-upright" were brothers and that they should help each other! Rahan is crazy! Only the interests of the clan matter! And Rahan must give our clan back the meat he stole from them! Page Ten: The women listened in silence. Chilk stood out from the group. Rahan didn't steal. He asked and we offered him the meat! Silence Chilk! If Rahan does not return the meat, you and the other women will pay for your weakness towards a stranger. Rahan does not need threats to pay his debt! He will bring you more meat tomorrow than he found here! You will do well to keep this commitment! Otherwise, even if the gods of the hunt favor us, the women will be deprived of food for as many days as the fingers of my hands! Lheita cried out. Not me! Not me! I did not want them to help an enemy! What does it matter! Since you let them, you will know the same punishment! Page Eleven: Lheita had a fierce expression. She curses the coming of Rahan. She would like to see his death! I want to know if the gods will help you keep your commitment. Herk, the leader of the clan, pushed Rahan towards the wall with the profile of the "Flat Beast”. Rahan does not believe in hunting gods! For Rahan the gods of the hunt are cunning, his patience, his endurance, his courage. And my knife! The hunters listened to the son of Crao with a sort of dread. Page Twelve: Hitting the "Flat Beast" with your arrows will not make you discover the game! The gods will not forgive you these sacrilegious words! Rahan has a habit of defying the gods! That of the sun like that of the great rivers! That of thunder like that of storms! Hitting the "Flat Beast" is stupid! Unless you exercise your skill! Like this! Rahan seized the spear of a hunter. And threw it at the dark red drawing. Klac! Oh! Oh! The point of the wood crashed on the rock, at the precise point where the eye of the "Flat Beast" was located. Page Thirteen: Or again, like this! Rahan was now drawing the bow he had snatched from Herk. Clack! A new clamor arose when the flint point of the arrow also chipped the granite at the exact location of the eye. Rahan's remarkable skill earned him the respect of hunters. Among the clan, Lheita was soon alone in giving him hateful looks. I will kill him with my own hands, she thought to herself! At daybreak the men set out. Rahan had to hunt alone, to the side. And do not forget your commitment, Rahan! If you come back without game, the women will be punished! Naturally they will be too, If you do not come back! Page Fourteen: Yes, Rahan could very well have not returned to this fierce clan. He could have fled, and left this territory forever. But such thoughts did not occur to the mind of the son of Crao! The women helped Rahan. Rahan will help them! If nature still had many secrets for him, then the hunt had more. He knew by a broken twig, to recognize the passage of the most cunning game. Ah, Luck is with Rahan! For the first time in three long days he had spotted tracks. Those of two wild boars. Page Fifteen: Completely absorbed in his thoughts, he felt nothing of the danger hovering over him. I will kill him! As soon as he gets up I will kill him! Lheita had followed the "Enemy". She caught an occasional glimpse of him, as he crawled between the thick grasses. When he suddenly sat up, she drew her bow. But she didn't have time to shoot her arrow when Rahan disappeared again. Because he had dived on the wild boar, which he had just flushed out. The ivory blade struck. His clamor for victory mingled with the sound of the great male boar charging at him. Page Sixteen: Rahan knew how to parry these onslaughts. He remained motionless, ready to strike. Leaving a fraction of a second before rolling sideways to avoid the formidable tusks that would rip him open. The boar continued its course. But the ivory knife had already done its work. Its side open, the beast entered into this agony that the son of Crao could not bear. He was finishing the boar when Lheita released the sinew of her bow. Page Seventeen: Rahan perceived the mewing of the arrow and instinctively let himself fall. Protected by the shield of flesh, he glimpsed the woman who was looking for a second arrow. Lheita! He leapt so fast his hand grabbed the bow before it was bent. Herk will not appreciate this way of acting, Lheita! Maybe he would even kill you for wanting to strike down a loyal hunter? Who knows? Yes, He would kill me. Lheita was pail. She was afraid. Lheita will not die. If she accepts Rahan's way! Snap! Page Eighteen: The sun was shining high in the sky when Rahan returned to the cave. Herk and his hunters were already back. Ha-ha-ha! Crao's son didn't show himself to be a better hunter than us! This is the price he pays for defying the gods! Herk speaks too soon! Rahan and Lheita have hunted together. And see what they bring back! Down below, coming out of the woods and groaning under the strain, Keita was hauling a heavy load. A tempest of screams shook the clan. The “Sanghia”! Rahan has killed the great Boar! No! It was Lheita-the-huntress who killed the "Sangha"! Page Nineteen: Rahan was not helping Lheita, who was struggling. Was that not the just punishment? Never has a woman killed a “Sanghia”! Lheita could not. Here is the proof Herk! The son of Crao pointed to the arrow stuck in the beast's neck. That arrow that Lheita had aimed at him. But Herk noticed the open flank of the wild boar. And this injury? Uh, Rahan had to finish the Boar. Perhaps Herk was not fooled, but he did not show it. His men were already happily butchering the beast. Rahan pays his debt. Is that not so Herk? Is this not so Lheita? Lheita nodded. By not denouncing her to the chief, Rahan was paying more than his debt. Page Twenty: But she only understood the purpose of this strange "Enemy" when he bade farewell to the clan, two days later. The territory of the grand sun calls Rahan! Farewell, brothers! Rahan does not believe in the power of the Flat Beast. Yet he knew how to flush out the “Sanghia”! And the arrow of a woman could strike it down! Rahan hopes that men's eyes have been opened, and that his brothers will have less contempt for their companions! Farewell! The son of the fierce ages went towards the crests which the sun set on fire. Never had he felt so light. Never had he leapt so cheerfully. If Rahan was happy, it was because he thought he had awakened the intelligence of the hunters, his brothers, and also served the "Females-who-walked-upright", his sisters, well.

Welcome to the Dalek Channel. The year 2023 marks the one hundredth anniversary of the publication of the first paper on the complete synthesis of cocaine. We are pleased to present a translation from the German of the work of Richard von Willstatter, et al. Synthesis of Natural Cocaine. Von Richard Willstatter, Otto Wolfes, and Horst Mader. From the chemical laboratory of the Bayern academy of the sciences in Munich and from the scientific laboratory of the Merck factory in Darmstadt. Annals of Chemistry volume 434, 1923. Theoretical Part. Tropinone Carboxylic Acid Ester. Psi Cocaine, which is considered to be the racemate of the right-hand cocaine, which occurs in small amounts in the coca plant, was obtained by R Willstatter and M Bormer from intermolecular acetoacetic ester condensation of N-methyl-pyrrolidine di-acetic ester via tropineo-carboxylic acid ester: The investigation was incomplete with regard to the intermediates and by-products of the synthesis and its completion was important for the knowledge of the stereoisomeric cocaine in chemical and pharmacological terms. The working materials of the university laboratory seemed insufficient for the continuation of the experiments, especially for the isolation of the isomers that are formed in smaller quantities alongside psi cocaine, and so we have joined forces to continue the experiments on a larger scale in the laboratory of the Merck chemical factory. The tropinonecarboxylic acid was obtained for the first time more than 20 years ago by the action of carbon dioxide on sodium tropinone, see reference two, and without isolation by reduction with sodium amalgam in a weakly acidic solution to racemic ecgonine. Page 112: Also, the intermediate link in the new complete synthesis of cocaine has also not yet been discovered. Our investigation begins with the isolation of the tropinonecarboxylic acid methyl and ethyl ester, strange compounds that are also analogues of acetoacetic ester and tertiary bases. They are easy to purify because they are both basic and considerably enolized compounds, possess acidic properties and especially since they already form crystallizing hydrates. These keto acid esters are more stable than expected; they are inert in terms of hydrogen uptake. Synthesis of cocaine from Succinaldehyde. From the starting material of our synthesis, acetone dicarboxylic acid, there is a second route to the tropanderivates. Reference R Robinson, 1917 Soc. 111, published a tropine synthesis of admirable elegance in 1917, modeling it on a condensation carried out by J Thiele, reference 2 Annalen 1909 and 1910, with the phthalaldehyde. The succindialdehyde reacts with acetone dicarboxylic acid or its ester in the presence of methylamine. The synthesis was formulated by R Robinson with a dioxopyrrolidine as the first condensation product; but the assumption of this intermediate link is not convincing. Page 113: The two carboxyls of acetonedicarboxylic acid were lost in the synthesis of tropinone by Robinson. The synthesis undergoes a significant expansion if the dicarboxylic acid is replaced by the Eseric acid obtained from Willstatter and Pfannenstiel. In this case only the free carboxyl is destroyed and the other, the bound carboxyl is spared. Then this synthetic pathway also leads into the cocaine series. In this way we obtained the ester of tropinonecarboxylic acid and found it to be identical to the condensation product of methylpyrrolidine diacetic ester. Two reacemic ecgonins. For the difficult reduction of the tropononecarboxylic acid ester to the ecgonine ester, the best method has remained the action of sodium amalgam in a solution kept just acidic with hydrochloric acid. As a by-product, the carboxyalkyl is split off and psi tropine is formed as a by-product of the ecgonine ester not by hydrolysis but by reduction. Even apart from tropine bases, the reduction product is not uniform. The beautiful psi ecgonine methyl ester, which has already been described, easily crystallizes out of the oily mixture. In addition, however, the racemate corresponding to the usual ecgonine ester is formed, which, like the well-known L-ester, cannot be crystallized. In the previous paper it was already indicated that, in addition to the psi ecgonine ester, an isomer occurs which, according to its behavior, belongs to the ordinary cocaine. An isomer in the mother liquor was noted. This second r-Egconine ester is converted to a crystalline hydrochloride and completed by its beautiful benzoly compound been purified, a racemic cocaine which is as close in its characteristics to ordinary cocaine as the already described psi-racemate is to natural cocaine. Curiously, the two racemates have the same melting point; the mixed sample naturally results in humiliation. Page 114: The test for the explanation of the racemates should be the decomposition into the optical opposites. In the case of r, psi cocaine, however, the cleavage by the classic method of pairing with optically active acids has met with great difficulties, which seem to be based on the unusual stability of semi-racemic salts. Instead of the benzoyl compound, however, the separation with the d, alpha bromocamphor beta sulphoacid finally succeeded in the case of the corresponding psi ecgonine ester when the fractional crystallization of the salts from ethyl acetate solution was carried out. The heavy soluble sulphonate is the d-form salt of the right ecgonine ester of melting point 115 degrees described by A Einhorn and A Marquardt. The l-form can be obtained in pure form from the mother-liquor, more easily when using the second bromocamphor sulphonic acid, the "pi" acid, which together with the l-ester yields a weaker, soluble salt. The second racemate, which is even more important because of its relation to natural cocaine, can be resolved without difficulty by crystallization of the bitartrate. The heavy colic salt is that of an oil base, and this has been shown to be identical to natural cocaine. This completes the synthesis of natural cocaine. Thus, 2 D and 2 L forms and 2 racemates of the cocaines are available and also really pure. Third Racemic Ecgonine. It is the isomers with the cis- and trans-position of the hydroxyl which are present, and with optical isomerism which is based on the neighboring position of the carboxyl in one case to the d- in the other to the L-bridge carrier of the tropine system. But the number of isomers compiled by Willsatter and Bommer in an overview of the figures is twice as high, since the position of the carboxyl in relation to the tropane segments also causes cis-trans isomerism. So far there has been little evidence that the carboxyl can be stored in different ways in these amino acids. Page 115: Assuming intramolecular saturation of the basic and acidic groups in compounds of the ecgonine type, one is led to the idea that the free amino acid exists primarily in the cis form. However, J von Braun and E Muller (1) recently succeeded in finding the geometric isomerism caused by the carboxyl in the ester of the tropanecarboxylic acid of hydroecgonidine. One isomer was known to be the product of the reduction of anhydroecgonine with sodium and alcohol; an isomeric tropane carboxylic acid ester is formed during hydrogenation with palladium and hydrogen, which, according to R Wallstatter and M Brommer (2) and according to J Gadamer and C John (3), requires that anhydroecgonine contains the delta 1 double bond. A third racemic ecgonine, which differs characteristically from the known ecgonines, has now been isolated in beautiful crystals from the products of the reduction of tropine carboxylic acid ester. In contrast to the usual ecgonines, it is not rearranged into a psi compound by heating with alkalis, but is converted into racemic anhydroecgonine with the elimination of water. In this third ecgonine, which will be the subject of more detailed investigation, the cis-trans isomerism based on the arrangement of the carboxyl is realized. The observation of this isomerism in the free amino acids is consistent with the views of P Pfeiffer (4), which were developed on the basis of the dipole formulas of the amino acids, according to which the intermolecular salt formation of the amino acids and the betaine does not require any spatial approximation of the acidic and basic groups and has nothing in common with ring closure in the usual sense. Based on this consideration, our previous knowledge cannot determine whether the known ecgonines are the cis-carboxylic acids of the tropanols and the new isomer is trans-carboxylic acids or vice versa. Pharmacological Results. The isomeric cocaines described here offer probably unique material for enlightening pharmacological investigations, from which information can be expected with regard to the stereochemical specificity of the anesthetic effect on the nerves, which has received little attention. Page 116: Privy Councilor Professor Doctor R Gottlieb has undertaken an in-depth study of these isomers and has been kind enough to provide us with the following summary of the results so far. The pharmacological study of synthetic cocaine by R Gottlieb of the Pharmacology Institute Heidelberg, published in Archives for experimental Pathology and Pharmacology 1923, has so far shown that the anesthetic capacity on the peripheral nerve elements and the toxic effect in the central nervous system are influenced in different ways by the spatial position of the groups in the cocaine molecule. This opens up the prospect of finding among the isomers anesthetics that are more effective and at the same time less toxic than leaf cocaine. The spatial arrangement in the psi series seems to favor the ability to anasthesize. The strongest effect in direct contact with the nerve elements comes from the d, psi cocaine. Likewise, the tropacocaine benzoyl psi tropein is superior to benzoyl tropein. The racemate of the psi series is also more potent than the racemate of ordinary cocaine, but anesthetizes less than its d-part because the L-form is about four times less potent. Here, the effectiveness also depends on the optical isomerism. In the case of ordinary cocaine, on the other hand, the potency of the racemate is approximately the same as that of the 2 L and D moieties. In both series, the D-forms, with gradual absorption from the subcutaneous tissue, prove to be much less harmful to the central nervous system than the left-handed ones. For example, D, psi cocaine is at most half as toxic as leaf cocaine, while L, psi cocaine is significantly more toxic; the toxicity of the racemate is in the middle. Likewise, the optical antipode of leaf cocaine has far less resorptive toxic effects than the latter, and accordingly the racemate is already freer from the dangerous side effects of the anesthetic. Page 117: Experimental Part. According to Willstatter and Bommer, the action of sodium dust on the dimethyl ester of N-methyl-pyrrolidin-diacetic acid in Cymol results in a condensation product which is characterized by the intense violet coloration with iron chloride and by the cleavage of tropinone on boiling with dilute sulfuric acid, and was recognized as a beta ketonic acid ester. The first small-scale experiments had not yet succeeded in preparing this intermediate product in its pure form; According to past observations, its solubility did not appear to be favorable for isolation. The purification of the ketone acid ester and the similar ethyl compound is, however, facilitated by the formation of hydrates already crystallized. The condensation product is stirred with a little ice while introducing carbonic acid and the aqueous solution of the sodium salt is separated from the cymol and freed from some starting material and by-products by shaking with ether. While cooling, one acidifies with hydrochloric acid until Congo paper turns blue, filters and saturates the liquid with potash, in order to then extract the ester from it by shaking it ten times with chloroform. To purify the basic ester from the chloroform solution we again convert it into 33 per cent sulfuric acid, liberate it with potassium carbonate and isolate it again by extraction with chloroform. After the solution has been dried with sodium sulphate and evaporated completely in vacuo, an oil remains which, when triturated with a little water and heated, solidifies to form a crystal cake of hydrate. Dissolved in a little hot water, the hydrate, which is always easily soluble in cold water, separates again in colorless crystal crusts; they first lose the water via phosphorus pentoxide. The anhydrous ester, which can also be separated from a little methyl alcohol and slowly separates out in tiny crystals, indicates the melting point 111 degrees (correct); the hydrate melts not quite sharply at 100 degrees, releasing water and evaporating some of the substance with it. Page 118: To determine the water content, we place the anhydrous substance in a bell over water and then up to consistency in the air. The anhydrous tropine carboxylic acid methyl ester is readily soluble in ethyl and hot methyl alcohol, considerably soluble in chloroform, very slightly soluble in ether. It reacts clearly but not with strongly alkaline, and forms salts with both alkalis and acids. This ketone acid ester was allowed to be strongly enolized in the aqueous solution. In contrast to tropinone, it is completely resistant to permanganate in dilute sulfuric acid, and its solution is colored strongly red-violet by iron chloride. Hydrochloride. On addition of ether, crystallize from methyl-alcoholic solution. Nodules consist of six-sided prisms with a melting point of 180 degrees (corrected) beveled at both ends. Benzoyl compound. The tropinone carboxylic acid ester can easily be benzoylated and, under a wide range of conditions, gives for example B. with and without pyridine or in caustic alkaline solution with benzoyl chloride the same benzoyl derivative, which is suitable for recognizing esters. For example, we added 4 grams of benzoyl chloride to a solution of 3.5 grams of methyl ester in 6 grams of pyridine. Page 119: The mixture warmed up strongly: to complete the reaction let it stand at 30 to 40 degrees. A sample then gave no more ferric chloride reaction. After the pyridine had been evaporated off in vacuo, the residue was taken up in water and purified by washing with ether. We then freed the base with ammonia, shook it out with ether, and on evaporating it obtained a solid residue, which was recrystallized from a benzene solution by mixing it with low-boiling petroleum ether. The benzoate forms nice needles with a melting point of 75 to 76 degrees (corr) The benzoylated ester is almost soluble in water, slightly soluble in petroleum ether, and readily soluble in alcohol and ether. The chloride (melting point 188 degrees, corrected) already crystallizes from ethyl acetate, there is a precipitation with sodium nitrate from the melting point 171 degrees (corrected), also with potassium iodide a poorly soluble iodide (melting point 210 degrees, corrected). In contrast to cocaine, whose formula contains 2 more H-atoms, the compound does not show any appreciable anesthetic effect. In sulfuric acid solution, the benzoyl compound behaves almost as if it were saturated with permanganate; it also decolorizes only slowly with bromine. It resists catalytic hydrogenation and other modes of reduction. Dilute alkalis and acids readily split off benzoic acid and form tropinone carboxylic acid esters before hydrolysis to tropinone proceeds. Neither of these observations decides whether the benzoyl has joined the oxygen or a methylene group. Tropinone carboxylic acid ethyl ester C11H17O3N The ethyl ester is formed in the Willstätter and Bommer condensation in a somewhat higher yield than the methyl compound (determined as tropinone, 25 percent of theory). It is liquid and also forms a crystalline hydrate reminiscent of mesoxalic acid ester. Page 120: The same does not recrystallize well, but the ester can be purified either via its hydrochloric acid salt or by dissolving it in aqueous potassium hydroxide. The alkaline solution is washed with ether, to which it gives off no ketone ester, the ester is decomposed with ammonium chloride and shaken out with chloroform. The anhydrous ester is an oil that distils undecomposed under 0.5 mm pressure at 107 degrees and in small quantities under 25 mm vacuum at about 170 degrees. The crystallized hydrate melts at 63 to 65 degrees, it is air-stable and gives up all the water over sulfuric acid, at which point liquefaction occurs. The hydrate is very readily soluble in alcohol, considerably soluble in chloroform in water, and slowly dissolving in ether to the anhydrous form. With the slow action of moisture on the oily ester, the hydrate also forms as a sublimate in light crystal deposits. In various solvents, the crystals immediately give an intensive ferric chloride reaction. The picrate of the tropinonecarboxylic acid ester is sparingly soluble in water and in benzene and melts at 135 to 136 (corrected), the iodomethylate separates from methyl alcohol in tablets of melting point 190 to 192 (corrected), the hydrochloride crystallizes with its alcoholic solution on slow dilution Ather in prisms of melting point 168 degrees (corrected). Synthesis from acetone dicarboxylic ester acid with succindialdehyde and methylamine. Here, as in the synthesis of Wilsatter, Pfannenstiel and Bommer, the primary ester of acetone dicarboxylic acid is the starting material. Page 121: As Willstatter and Pfannenstiel have observed, Pechmann's diethyl ester is smoothly semi-saponified by alkali at ordinary temperatures and forms a nice dipotassium salt. The methyl ester acid salt was not yet demonstrated. We obtained it by adding 156 grams of acetone dicarboxylic acid, dimethyl ester, to a mixture of 800 grams of 50 per cent potassium hydroxide solution and 360 grmas of methyl alcohol cooled to -5. The salt, which is not a little soluble in methyl alcohol, separates with difficulty; the crystallization is completed by the addition of 150 cc of ether. Then the dipotassium salt precipitates in snow-white crystalline sheets (98 grams); in alkyl alcohol solution the yield increases but the identity of the primary methyl ester is uncertain. The synthesis by R Robinson was exemplary for the condensation of the succinaldehyde, obtained by the beautiful method of C Harries, 10 grams was dissolved in 200 cc of water and cooled to -5. To this we added the ice-cold solution of 41 grams of dipotassium salt in methyl ester acid and of 11.8 grams of methylamine in hydrochloric acid and 16.2 grams of free methylamine in 200 cc of water. Condensation occurred with an increase in temperature and a soapy mass formed. After a few hours we acidified the solution with hydrochloric acid, filtered and added an excess of ammonia. The tropinone carboxylic acid methyl ester, which remained as a brown oil after evaporation, was isolated by frequent extraction with chloroform. The yield was 15 grams, or 65 percent of theory. When water was added, the characteristic hydrate formation took place; the crystallized hydrate was purified as described above and characterized by the melting point of approximately 100 degrees, by analysis and specifically by conversion into the two racemic cocaines, the major product, psi-cocaine, melting point 80 degrees, and the minor product, cocaine melting point 79 to 80 degrees. Some tropinone could be obtained from the mother liquor of the tropinone carboxylic acid ester by boiling with sulfuric acid and isolated as a dibenzal compound. Page 122: Resolution of the r, psi ecgonine methyl esters into the optical Isomers. In the reduction of the tropinonecarboxylic acid methyl ester with sodium analgam in a weakly acidic solution, a mixture of isomeric esters is formed, accompanied by varying amounts of psi-tropine, which is formed by separating off the carboxymethyl. According to Willstatter and Bommer, the psi-ecgonine ester, which crystallizes very well and is difficult to dissolve, can be easily separated from the mixture in its pure state (melting point 128 degrees). The r, psi ecgonine resulting from hydrolysis has already been described by R Willstatter and A Bode. In addition to the anhydrous form mentioned, which crystallizes monoclinically, we also encounter a hydrate with 1 mole of water, which according to Doctor Steinmetz forms tetragonal, bipyramidal prisms (a to c equals 1 to 0.4533). We tried to split the benzoyl compound of the ester, the racemic psi-cocaine with a melting point of 81.5 degrees, into its components using various optically active acids, namely natural tartaric acid, malic acid, d-camphor sulfonic acid and d-bromocamphor sulfonic acids (beta and pi Acid). In contrast to the behavior of the racemate of ordinary cocaine, the classical methods failed here, as in the experiments cited by Willstatter and Bode. In all cases, salts crystallized out which, on decomposition, yielded d, l, psi cocaine and even gave the well-crystallizing, sparingly soluble d, alpha bromocamphor-beta-sulfonate, even when it was protected with bromocamphor sulphonic d, psi cocaine and separated out in fractions, only crystals from which the racemic base has been recovered. For these, however, the cryoscopic molecular weight determination in benzylic solution gave a simple molecular weight, corresponding to the formula C17H21O4N. It is not impossible that the salts obtained, which could not be separated by fractional crystallization, are mixtures of compounds of very similar solubility, consisting of the active acid with d- and with l, psi cocaine. However, the observation does better justice to the assumption that salts of the racemic base with the active acids are present here, i.e. semi-racemic compounds, as some of them were investigated by A Ladenburg. Page 123: Since the tendency to break up into the opposites is very low, the conditions for the decomposition could be found. The compounds of racemic psi-cocaine represent suitable experimental material for further investigations in order to test the views of A Ladenburg and the opposing views of HW Bakhuis Roozeboom with regard to the controversial phenomenon of partial racemy. Bitartrate des r, psi cocaine. 5 grams of the synthetic base were triturated with 2.5 grams of tartaric acid and dissolved in 35 grams of alcohol with gentle heating. On careful cooling, rosettes of fine felt-like needles gradually separated out. After recrystallization from 150 cc of alcohol, the yield was still 6.4 grams; after two consecutive crystallizations from dilute solution we isolated 2.2 grams. At the same time, the melting point of 164 degrees and the rotation ability did not change. For hydrochloric d, psi cocaine, i.e. also for the base, we find M equals plus 148 degrees, for the bitartrate of d, psi cocaine (melting point 139 degrees correct) M equals plus 191 degrees, which is M equals plus for d-tartaric acid 43 degrees results. From the bitartrate of the synthetic alkaloid we isolated the base again, which immediately showed the melting point 79 to 80 degrees, on its own and in a mixture with the starting material. d, alpha-bromocamphor-beta-sulfonic acid r, psi cocaine. 2.2 grams of synthetic cocaine was dissolved with 2.3 grams of bromocamphor sulfonic acid from HE Armstrong and T M Lowry, in 90 cc of hot water. On cooling, some syrup separated out, which only crystallized after a long time and frequent rubbing. Page 124: The fine-grained salt slowly formed small prisms of melting point 182 to 183 degrees when recrystallizing from water (50 cc). On the other hand, the bromocamphor sulphonic acid d, psi cocaine crystallized readily from dilute solution in nicely formed clusters of melting point 206 to 207 degrees, corrected. According to P Walden's rule 452 degrees would be expected. From the bromocamphor sulfonate of the synthetic alkaloid we also recovered the base, melting point 79 to 80 degrees, which was found to be optically inactive in chloroform solution. Also the camphorsulfonic acid salt from the r-base (well-formed flakes of melting point 218 degrees corrected, alpha equals plus 9.19 degrees) was quite different from the salt of the active alkaloid (thin needles of melting point 222 degrees corrected, alpha equals 37.31 degrees. The attempts to split the racemate finally led to success when, instead of cocaine, we paired the d, l, psi ecgonine ester with the d,alpha-bromocamphor-beta-sulphonic acid and allowed the salt to crystallize from ethyl acetate instead of from an aqueous solution. We dissolved 2.5 grams r, psi ecgonine methyl ester together with 3.8 grams d,alpha bromocamphor-beta-sulphonic acid in hot ethyl acetate and diluted the solution with a little alcohol so that the precipitation of somewhat syrupy salts was avoided during decanting. Gradually, several millimeter long coffin-lid shaped prisms separate, melting at 198 degrees (corrected 201 degrees). The crystallographic analysis of the salt was done by Herr Doctor H Steinmetz, who was kind enough to provide us with the following information. d, psi ecgonine methyl ester-d alpha-bromocamphor-beta-sulfonate (obtained by cleavage of the d, l-ester). Page 125: Rhombic bi-sphenoid; a to b to c equals 0.6338 to 1 to 0.3429, Figure 1. The present crystals showed the following forms: a{100}, m{110} n{120}, p{140}, r{101}. All the crystals are prismatically parallel to the d-axis; a is only present on a few, m and p often present in a few, m and p often of about the same size, n very narrow or absent. Only the form r{101} was observed as the end faces of the prisms. The [001] zone is mostly striped and tends to form venal flats. Cleavage: perfect after {100}. The plane of the optical axes is {100}, the pointed bisectrix is the c-axis. Axis angle for blue smaller than for red. Optically positive. The surface formation is holohedral; the etching figures on r, however, prove that it belongs to the bisphenoid class. For comparison, we prepared a preparation of the d, psi methyl ester from natural l-ester by rearrangement, which took place on heating with potassium hydroxide solution, and by re-esterification, and found a corresponding value for the specific rotation. The methyl ester isolated from the bromocamphor sulfo acid salt crystallized well from ethereal solution and showed the melting point 115 degrees, 116 corrected, alone and in a mixture with natural d, psi-methyl ester (melting point, 115 degrees, according to A Einhorn and A Marquardt). Mixing with the racemic ester lowered its melting point from 128 to 112 degrees. The description of the d, psi ecgonine methyl ester should be supplemented with the value for the ability to rotate, which was determined on the natural preparation. Page 126: During the cleavage, we also obtained the l-form of the psi-ecgonine methyl ester from the mother liquor of the bromo-campersulfonate, which also melted at 115 degrees and which, together with the same amount of d-ester, gave the racemate of corrected melting point of 129 degrees. Both components of psi-cocaine have thus become accessible to the Sunthesians, and we have presented both the compound corresponding to natural "legal cocaine" and its antipode, l, psi-cocaine, in pure form. The preparation of the compounds of the l, psi-ecgonine series is improved by the use of the second bromocamphor sulphonic acid, which gave the opposite result in the decomposition of the racemic ester. We obtained the l, psi-methyl ester in the form of a sparingly soluble salt when we combined the racemate with the d, alpha-bromocamphor-pi-sulfonic acid of FS Kipping and W J Pope and the salt, separated (without separation) from concentrated alcoholic solution, from hot Methyl alcohol slowly crystallize. The salt, which melted at 243 degrees (alpha equals plus 43.47 degrees), was broken down to yield the pure l, psi methyl ester (alpha equals minus 14.74 degrees in a 10 percent methyl alcohol solution). Mister F Müllbauer had the kindness to repeat for us in the institute of Mister Geh. Council's measurement made by Groth: L, Psi ecgonine methyl ester-d alpha bromo camphor pi sulfonate. Rhombic bisphenolic, a, to b to c equals 0.3598 to one to 0.6692. Simple combination {011},{110}, more rarely {011},{101},{110}, figure two in text. Page 127: Cleavage after 011 eng. optical axis plane 001; One axis emerges on each of the surfaces of the prism III. Blunt Bisectrix on (100), Pointed Bisectrix (010); however, this plane does not appear in any of the crystals present. Iodomethylates of ecgonine esters. The iodomethylate of the d, psi-methyl ester, whether from the synthetic or the natural ester, undiluted or prepared in solution, melts at 209 degrees. It is sparingly soluble in cold methyl alcohol and crystallizes in shimmering flakes. We observe the formation of the same compound as a result of a peculiar rearrangement when iodomethyl acts on undiluted l-ecgonine methyl ester in the cold. Strangely enough, undiluted l-ecgonine ester in the heat, also with rearrangement, gives rise to an iodomethylate (short needles, poorly soluble in cold wood spirit), which has the properties specified by A. Einhorn and A. Friedlander for right-ecgonine methyl ester (von Wilstatter and Bode ) quoted melting p. 165 degrees has alpha equals plus 11.25 degrees in 5 percent solution. These still unexplained isomeric relationships invite further investigations. Under all experimental conditions, the r, psi-methyl ester gives the solid needles or rods of melting point described by Willstater and Bode. 185 degrees, corrected crystallizing compound. Page 128: The same iodomethylate we observe as the product of the action of iodomethyl on the undiluted r-methyl ester of the ordinary ecgonine series. On the other hand, we obtained the true l and d, l ecgonine methyl ester iodomethylates, accompanied by the hydroiodic acid salts, by treating the esters dissolved in methyl alcohol, chloroform or ethyl acetate with iodomethyl. The l-iodomethylate melts at 164 degrees (alpha equasl minus 17.6, minus 18.2 in 5 percent solution), the d, l iodomethylate, easily soluble in wood spirit, geodes of bevelled rods, at 162 degrees. The similarly melting iodides are definitely different, as their mixed melting points have also shown. The iodomethylates of the psi series also differ from the isomers in their greater resistance to alkalis. r Ecgonine methyl ester, C10H17O3N. The reduction product of the tropinone carboxylic acid ester is not uniform. The crystallized psi ecgonine methyl ester leaves an oily portion in the mother liquor. From this we isolated an isomeric ester in the form of uniformly crystalline hydrochloric acid salts, which is similar in its properties to the natural ecgonine methyl ester, which is also only obtained as an oil. The chlorohydrate crystallizes from the methyl-alcoholic solution of the r-ethyl ester after neutralization with ether containing hydrochloric acid. Corrected melting point 195. Page 129: The best form for purification and characterization of the ester is its benzoyl compound. Their uniformity proves the purity of this methyl ester, which in the mother liquor of Psi compound is accompanied by other reduction products. Rearrangement of the r-ecgonine ester to psi racemate. Like L-ecgonine in so-called right-ecgonine, racemic ecgonine is rearranged by alkali solution into the r, psi-ecgonine described by Willstatter and Bode. The assumed configuration relationship and analogy with trope and psi-tropion is thereby confirmed. 3.4 grams of oily ecgonine methyl ester were mixed with 12 grams of 33 per cent Potassium lye heated for 24 hours at the reflux condenser. Then we neutralized the solution with hydrochloric acid, clarified with charcoal and evaporated in vacuo. The organic substance was removed from the salt residue by boiling with wood spirit and, after repeated evaporation, which was necessary for complete drainage, esterified by boiling for one day with 10 percent methyl alcohol hydrochloric acid. From the ethereal solution of the ester formed, 2 grams of small colorless prisms separated out, which had a corrected melting point of 128 degrees and were identical to r, Psi ekgonine methyl ester. The iodomethylate of melting point obtained from a methyl-alcoholic solution of the components. 182 degrees (corrected 185 degrees) and the benzoyl compound, which melted at 80 by itself and when mixed with a preparation prepared from Tropinone according to Willstatter and Bode, confirmed the identity. R-Cocaine C17H21O4N. The oily ecgonine ester was diluted with an equal amount of benzoyl and refluxed with two and a half times the weight of benzoic anhydride for 4 hours. We then diluted it with ether and treated the solution with aqueous hydrochloric acid until it reacted acidically on Congo paper. The separated chloral hydrate solution was freed from benzoic acid by etherification and made ammoniacal. Page 130: We then isolated the alkaloid with ether, in which it is readily soluble, and obtained, on evaporation, a syrup which rapidly crystallized when solidified. When recrystallized from petroleum ether, in which it readily dissolves when heated, it formed well-formed, flat rhombic prisms of melting point 79 to 80. So the new racemate has the same melting point as r, psi cocaine, but the bulk sample shows a drop of about 20 degrees. The crystals of the r-cocaine has Doctor H Steinmetz measured and he has thanked us by kindly communicating the following description. D, L cocaine Synthetic racemate Rhomical bipyramidal, a-to-b-to-c equals 0.6192 to 1 to 0.6223, figure three in text. The preparation, crystallized from ether, showed crystals with a diameter of up to 1 cm and the following shapes: “a”{1, 0, 0}, b {0, 1, 0}, C{0, 0, 1}, m{1, 1, 0}, c{1, 1, 1}. The crystals are usually thick-slabbed after this plane because of the predominance of b; a greater than b is rarer; c is always small and often absent, and m is not present in all crystals. The surface finish is not good, surfaces covered with many bumps are always formed, even with slow crystallization. The values given are mean values from individual readings which deviate from the mean by up to 1 1/2 degrees on either side. Cleavage: very perfect after b, a little less after c, clearly after a. The plane of the optical axes is {0, 1, 0}. The angle of the optical axes is very close to 90 degrees; therefore the interference pattern of the pointed bisectrix visible through slits of “c” {0, 0, 1} can hardly be distinguished from that of the blunt bisectrix visible through slits to “a”{1, 0, 0}. Optically positive. Page 131: In terms of its properties, r-cocaine is closer to ordinary cocaine than so-called Right cocaine and psi-racemate. The hydrochlorate is easily soluble in water and alcohol and forms rhomboform tablets when recrystallizing from the latter, in which, according to information from Mister F Mullbauer (Institute d Hrn, Professor von Groth), complicated twin intergrowths of very strongly birefringent biaxial crystals are present. Corrected melting point 187 degrees. While the two psi bases form sparingly soluble, readily crystallizing nitrates, the r-cocaine nitrate is easily soluble and precipitates from conc. solution oily. The iodide and the sublimate double salt also show the same differences from the psi series. Only the permanganate of the new base is notable for its poor solubility and crystallizes well. The iodomethylate is sparingly soluble in wood spirit, it melts like L-cocaine iodine methylate at 169 degrees (corrected) [melting point of the d, psi-cocaine iodine methylate 172 degrees (corrected), the r, psi compound 213 degrees (corrected)]. Cleavage of r-cocaine into its opposites. We prepare bitartrate from synthetic alkaloid (3 grams) by dissolving molecular amount (1.5 grams) of d-tartaric acid in hot water (20 cc). On slow cooling over several days, the salt crystallized in rhombic bisphenoidal prisms (“a” to “b” to “c” equals 1.5611 to 1 to 0.7054) with only holohedral shapes. The bitartrate, upon recrystallization from water, yielded well-formed prisms that melted at 114 to 115 degrees and contained 2 moles of crystal water. The bitartrate prepared from natural l-cocaine for the visual comparison showed the flat crystalline form and the same melting point. Synthetic Cocaine Bitartrate (With two H2O incuded). Page 132: Bitartrate of natural cocaine. The two preparations therefore show the same sense and approximately the same ability to rotate. We converted the bitartrate obtained from synthetic racemate from melting point 80 degrees into the free base. It crystallized very well from ether to form flat prisms that melted at 97 to 98 alone and when mixed with natural cocaine. This gives alpha equals minus 16.15, while O Antrick found for natural cocaine in chloroform solution: Alpha equals minus 16.412 The salt precipitated from the alcoholic solution of the alkaloid with essential hydrochloric acid had the corrected melting point of 192 degrees. Since the still unknown d-base, which is important for pharmacological testing, could not be obtained in sufficiently pure form from the mother liquor of l-cocaine d-bitartate, we isolated the antipode of this salt using l-tartaric acid, which we prepared from grape acid with cinchonine. 5.6 grams of d, l base with 2.8 grams of l-tartaric acid dissolved in 18 grams water with heating yielded 5.1 grams on cooling, after recrystallization 4.0 grams d-cacaine-l-bitartrate from melting point 112 degrees. Page 133: The base isolated from this salt crystallized from ether in beautiful monoclinic prisms of melting point 98 degrees. In Groth's Chem. Krystallographie (1919) the axial ratio calculated by Tschermak by Steinmetz is given. Since the recently reported crystallizations of synthetic oil such as d-cocaine showed excellent agreement of the values, a recalculation of the elements was necessary, especially since the value of beta differed considerably from the older measurements. As the following overview shows, there is complete identity between synthetic and natural cocaine. Natural L-cocaine “a”{1,0,0}, c{0,0,1} rho {1,0,1-bar}, q{0,1,1}, Chi{0, 1-bar, 1}, omega{1,1, 1-bar}. Tschermak gave the form {1, 1, 1-bar} instead of {1, 1-bar, 1-bar}. But there seems to be an error in this; This form was observed neither in the preparations presented nor in the preparations recrystallized from them, but the characteristic sphenoid on d-cocaine. Synthetic L cocaine: also Figure 4 in text. Synthetic D cocaine: same as Figure 5 in text. The habit of the crystals obtained from alcohol is mostly tabular to c, usually somewhat elongated parallel to the b-axis. Page 134: From petroleum ether you get very long lineal forms of c predominantly with a, and rho, at the ends only q and Chi. Instead of omega, omega prime should be used for d-cocaine. All preparations show perfect cleavage after {0,0,1}. The plane of the optical axes is perpendicular to the plane of symmetry. The obtuse bisectrix is at an obtuse angle beta, including about 40 with the alpha axis. The etching figures (Figure 6) on {0, 0, 1}, {1, 0, 0} and {1, 0, 1} are mirror images of the same on the crystals of the optically opposite bodies; the clearest are those obtained with alcohol on the cleavage planes {0, 0, 1}. r-Ecgonine, C9H15O3N. In the investigation of R Wilstatter and A Bode, the crude sodium salt of tropinonecarboxylic acid formed from sodium tropinone with carbon dioxide was the starting material for the partial synthesis of r, Psi cocaine. In addition to psi-ecgonine, an isomer was observed from which Willstatter and Bode were able to isolate psi-tropine by heating with hydrochloric acid. Therefore, the by-product was assigned the constitution of a psi-tropine-O-carboxylic acid. This information contained errors that need to be corrected. Page 135: It would be premature to claim that psi-tropine-O-carboxylic acid does not exist, but the information about the isolated compound, and especially the description of the crystals, including the hydrochloride, does not indicate a compound with the constitution of O-carboxylic acid but it applies to the isolated racemate of the usual ecgonine, which Willstatter and Bode already had in their hands. If an easily decomposable O-carboxylic acid yielding psi-tropine was formed, then d,l-ecgonine was also a component of the reduction products and this was isolated as the slightly soluble hydrochlorate on separation and as the trihydrate on removing the hydrochloric acid with silver oxide . Thus d, l, psi-ecgonine and d, l-ecgonine are formed from tropinone according to the method indicated. We carried out the hydrolysis of our d, l, cocaine or the corresponding ecgonine methyl ester by standing with barite water at room temperature for a week. After precise precipitation of the barium with sulfuric acid, we evaporate the solution several times with alcohol and repeatedly crystallize the residue from around 90 percent alcohol. Ecgonine is much more sparingly soluble in cold alcohol than in warm; it crystallized with 3 moles of water in lustrous six-sided plates, which, according to Doctor H Steinmetz are monoclinic and identical to those of the trihydrate measured by him twenty years ago. The hydrous substance melts vaguely between 93 and 118 degrees, redissolves and melts again and decomposes at about 212 degrees (rapidly heated), with slow heating already at about 203 degrees. Of the salts, the hemichlorohydrate (C9H15O3N)2HCl is particularly characteristic. It is very sparingly soluble in ethyl and methyl alcohol and crystallizes anhydrous in tablets with a melting point of 247 degrees (with decomposition). Page 136: The chloroauric salt, on recrystallization from hot water, formed cross-shaped needles of melting point 205 degrees. Third racemic Ecgonine (cistrans-isomeric Tropanol-carboxylic acid). In the reduction of the tropinonecarboxylic acid ester, the crystallizing psi-ecgonine ester and the oily ecgonine ester, the hydrochloride of which crystallizes well, were accompanied by by-products which varied in quantity and composition. It was possible to isolate another racemic ecgonine from it by hydrolysis with water, a geometric isomer of the two known racemates which differs from them in the position of the carboxyl. The new ecgonine crystallizes from water on the addition of alcohol, or from hot water, in which it is very readily soluble, in beautiful centimeter-sized prisms, containing 2 moles of crystalline water, and melting at 110 degrees with loss of water; the substance solidifies on further heating and melts again at 225 degrees (229 corrected) with foaming. The compound shows the resistance to permanganate in sulfuric acid solution, which is due to ecgonines. For the determinations 1, 3, 6, 7, samples from one presentation, for 2, 4, 5, and 8 from another presentation were used. The crystals, which are quite different from the forms of the well-known ecgonines, were measured by Mister F Mullbauer in the Groth Institute: we owe him the following information. Page 137: Third r-Ecgonine (with two H2O crystals). Pedial trickling. Approximate axes “a” to “b “to “c” equals 1.2492 to 1. Axis angle alpha equals 58 degrees 50'; beta equals 122 degrees, 7'; gamma equals 113 degrees 2'. Combination of the present c-axis prismatic crystals {001}{100}{1 bar 10}{010}{1 bar01}{0 1 bar0}{1 1 bar0}. Among the crystals there are some with mirror images of the opposite formation (Figures 7 and 8 in the text) The hydrochloric acid (C9H15O3N.HCl.H2O) is very sparingly soluble in alcohol; compact crystals from melting point 230 to 233 degrees. The new ekgonine suffers when boiled with conc. alkalis not isomerization, but dehydration; a new anhdroekgonin, namely the racemic one, is formed in the same way as in the case of treatment with glacial hydrogen chloride. We also obtain the same r-anhydroecgonine from d,l, ecgonine by the action of glacial acetic acid-hydrogen chloride in the heat, and, although with more difficulty, also from and d,l psi-ecgonine. It forms a well-crystallized perbromide and peroxide, and it immediately decolorizes permanganic acid in sulfuric acid solution; It absorbs the molecular amount of hydrogen via the catalytic hydrogenation. Page 138: Page 139: This r-anhydroecgonine, whose double bond is located in delta according to R Willatatter and M Bommer and according to J Gadamer and C John: It is easily soluble in water, sparingly soluble in cold alcohol; it crystallizes with 1 mole of H2O and melts, previously sintering, at 226 to 230 degrees with decomposition. The methyl ester iodomethylate melts at 180 degrees.

STREET MEAT. Norman Spinrad is the author of ten novels, including The Iron Dream, currently banned in Germany, Bug Jack Barron, soon to become a Universal film directed by Costa-Gavras, and The Void Captain’s Tale, his latest, currently out from Timescape Books. A word of warning: What follows is not for the faint of heart. It is a gritty, all-too-realistic picture of life in New York City in the not-too-distant future. It’s not a pleasant picture, and overall, this is not a pleasant story. Told from the point of view of two denizens of this urban nightmare, the language and the settings are true to the story’s premise. However, Norman Spinrad is such a master of his craft that despite these factors, he manages to imbue the characters with both dignity and humor, letting them and the story rise above the squalor. Mai suerte and good, so it goes in La Vida, no, and sometimes a streetie can’t tell which is going to lead to which. Bad luck for Gonzo that he lost his kibble kard when a city cop caught him trying to boost a roasted rat from a peddler who had the mother on the pad. Could you believe it, a rat peddler with the dinero to pad one of New York’s finest? Maybe a smarter streetie than Gonzo wouldn’t have had so much trouble featuring that. Manhattan was full of rats, natch, but those ratones had more street smarts than, say, the likes of Gonzo, and half of them were rabid, so ratcatching was not for everyone. But a guy with the cojones and the talent could bag the buggers free, roast ’em over a garbage fire, and get five bucks a pop free and clear. A king ratter with a tight culo for dinero who held his luck for five years might even save up the bread to put a down payment on a room, or anyway a share in one. So slipping the local muni ten on the side every week was just playing the percentages, the closest a streetie could come to having his very own zonie. But the street smarts to comprend all this Gonzo did not have, and so while the ratter was looking the other way, he hooked a fat sizzling one off the grill, not getting ten feet before he was collared with the evidence dangling still steaming from his hand. Good luck and bad. First offense for street snatch was loss of kard, second was six months in the South Bronx digging holes on a cup of kibble a day, at the end of which, if you were one of the 60 percent who survived, you were issued a special blue kard, which marked you as a two-timer. And if a bluekarder got busted, it was lobe-job time, muchacho. So the bad luck was the bust, and the good luck was that Gonzo did have enough street smarts to comprend the instant justice system. Most blue-karders had the smarts to throw the marker away, figuring a cup of kibble a day courtesy of the Welfare was not worth the inevitability of a lobe-job if you were busted with a blue ticket on your person. But Gonzo had the smarts to figure that the best course was to stay the hell out of the South Bronx in the first place. So after he lost his red kard the first time, he had spent a starving six days stalking streeties until he could bash a legit red-karder and steal a new one. So even though this was really his second bust, he had a red kard in his possession to lose, and escaped with nothing worse than kard konfiscation. And of course, loss of the rat. And muy pronto, one piece of good luck seemed to lead to another. Street sex was not ordinarily Gonzo’s bag—not because of excess scruples, but because, with his skeletal frame, stinking threads, and face full of pimples, he was not exactly equipped for a prime career as street meat. But what he needed more than anything else right now was another kosher kard and the best place to boost one was the meat rack at fourteenth and Third. These environs were about as low a meat rack as existed even in the Pig Apple, which was exactly the point. Any meat rack much more savory than this involved transactions between streeties and gainfully employed townies. Any market involving transactions between streeties and townies would be infested with muni cops, or even, if the market were patronized by pervos from a plush zone, by bad-ass zonies. Besides, townies, being employed, did not carry kibble kards. Hard as it was for even Gonzo to comprend, Fourteen and Three was a meat rack in which the johns were streeties. Here streetie pervos could score for a joint or a jug or a stringy old pigeon, and the cops there don’t need you and man they expect the same. The good luck was that Gonzo scored a geek almost at once, and a feeble old sack of stuff at that. Leaning up against the wall of a burned out building like barely able to stand, this white-haired old slimepot, wearing a drape stitched together out of the same potato sacking his street bag was made of, leered out of an alley at Gonzo, dangling a half-eaten rat invitingly. “Rat for a rack?” he croaked. “Name your game.” “Gum-gum, giggles.” Well, any streetie willing to trade a rat for a rack was odds on to be carrying a kibble kard, who could ask for a better dig to do the dirt than this alley, and this gaf was in no shape to offer a tussle. As far as Gonzo was concerned, this was almost too good to be true. The bad luck was that he was right. Gonzo nodded his agreement and followed the gaf a few steps deeper into the alley. But as soon as the john began fumbling with his drape, Gonzo grabbed him around the throat with one paw, and stifled his scream with the other. Frog-marching his victim even deeper into the alley, he demanded: “Koff your kard!” The old geek’s mouth muttered against his palm. “Yawp, you pervo, and I’ll tear your tongue out,” Gonzo said, removing the gagging hand. The pervo giggled quietly. “Yock’s on you, younger,” he said. “Ain’t carrying no kard.” His face suddenly went through some weird transformation, as did his voice. “In point of fact, you foul creature, you’ve just assaulted a townie. It’s a lobe-job for you, sonny, if you’re caught.” “Townie? Geek like you’s a townie, I’m a plush zone shimmer!” “Vice verse, villain,” the old man gabbled. “I’m the plushie tushie, primed for prole place plunder. Slumming for sleazo sex, son, see the scene?” Dimly, Gonzo saw the scene. He’d heard the word from the bird on this kind of turd. Rich townie pervos from some plush zone palace day-tripping the streeties, copping their sick kicks in streetie drag. On the other hand, it could be a scam to let him lam. But with both hands on this dirty mother, it didn’t really matter. A red flash went off in Gonzo’s brain, bolts of lightning seared down his arms, and, gibbering and screaming curses in some primal language of formless and innocent rage, he bashed the pervo’s head against the wall with a dull sickening thunk, and dropped the limp remains to the ground like a sack. Running on red-hot automatic now, Gonzo snatched up his victim’s street bag and rat, and fled up Third Avenue babbling and swearing, as if some cunning buried deep within his backbrain knew that no one on the sidewalks of good old New York was about to screw with a brain-burned screamer. It was a job. She was a townie. That was all that Mary Smith knew and all she needed to know, or so she continually told herself at times like these. She owned an entire room in what had once been a luxury building on 78th and Riverside. There were twenty-five million people out of work in the US of A, and somewhere between five hundred thousand and two million streeties in New York who had neither jobs nor domiciles. Who thought themselves lucky when they got themselves a rat to supplement their kibble ration, assuming they even had kards. She was a townie. She had a job. She owned a co-op room with thirty-seven years to go on a forty-year mortgage. In point of fact, while this was all that Mary needed to know, when she let herself, she knew far more than that. She knew that “Smith” was a “family name” she had given herself to celebrate the miracle of obtaining employment. She knew that she had grown up possessing only the name “Maria.” She knew that until five years ago she had been a streetie, surviving by wits, hooking, and the considerable jungle judo she had been forced to pick up in the process. She knew that it had been only a fantastic piece of luck which had placed her in position to rescue a lousy plushie tushie from a mugger by practical application of these street fighting skills and so secure this job as a zonie. Of course she was never unaware that she was a zonie. She carried an old Uzi machine pistol which required constant maintenance. Six days a week, she reported to work at the headquarters of the Upper East Side Security Zone Guard Force. Six days a week, she guarded the frontier or shepherded Upper East Side plushie tushies on their forays beyond the borders of the Security Zone. She also knew, when she let herself, that she had killed and/or wounded any number of streeties in the line of duty. What she never let herself know was her body count. What she also never allowed herself to ponder, not even for an instant, was the moral ambiguity of being an ex-streetie protecting loathsome plushie tushies from the very reality from which she herself had escaped. Indeed, she tried not to think of her charges as “plushie tushies” at all. They were Clients. They were People of Means. They were the Source of Employment. They had made her a Townie. But at times like these, her double-think wavered. It was plain impossible to think of Missus Gloria Van Gelder as anything but a plushie tushie. In fact it was impossible to think of this woman as anything but a brainless, arrogant, gold-plated bitch. What else could you call a woman who required the services of a helicopter, a pilot, and a zonie to take her and her wretched cocker spaniel Dearie back and forth to the Ellis Island Recreation Zone in order to let the little monster frolic in the grass and pee against a real tree? The fuel bill alone was probably the equivalent of three months’ salary for Mary. And while a million streeties subsisted on kibble and the occasional rat, the wretched beast, sleek, fat, and yapping, devoured enough horsemeat daily to treat three streeties to a deluxe banquet. And now, as the helicopter clattered over the gray canyons of Manhattan in the late afternoon twilight, the dog was squirming and yammering on the fat woman’s lap as if its bladder was once again filled to bursting. Mary only hoped that the creature would piss right on Missus Gloria Van Gelder’s pink satin jumpsuit. Or better yet, decide to take a dump. Missus Van Gelder, however, now decided to forestall any such catastrophe. “We must land immediately,” she told the pilot. “Dearie has to make a wee-wee.” “I’m afraid that’s impossible, madam,” the mournfulfaced pilot said. “We’re over an un-Zoned part of Manhattan. We’ll be home in a few minutes, Dearie will just have to wait until then.” “Dearie is a dog, you imbecile!” Missus Van Gelder shrieked. “Do you think you can explain that to him? Do you think I intend to let him make all over me? You will land this machine at once! Right down there in that big burned out crater! Down! Now!” “He’s right, Missus Van Gelder,” Mary said. “That’s not a safe area.” The plushie tushie stared at her with eyes of blue gimlet steel. “You’re a zonie, aren’t you?” she said thinly. “You’ve got a machine gun, don’t you? What do you people think we pay you for? So that my little Dearie can piss on my pants?” “I don’t think—” “You’re not paid to think, you insolent creature!” Missus Gloria Van Gelder shouted. “You’re paid to provide protection, and you, my man, are paid to fly this helicopter where I tell you to! Another word of argument out of either of you, and you can go back to eating kibble and dead rats! You will land at once!” As if to agree with his mistress, Dearie began to make a horrible, whimpering keening sound. It was almost enough to make Mary bash its stupid brains out with the butt of her Uzi and then turn the business end on the dog’s mistress. Almost enough. Instead, she gritted her teeth against the sound and her fury and double-checked her weapon as the helicopter descended towards the country of the streeties. “Son-of-a-bitch-culo-cabron-bastard-plushie-tushiechingada- mother . . .” Screaming more or less the same limited vocabulary of rage over and over again, Gonzo walked more slowly up Third Avenue now, flinging old newspapers, crushed beercans, wads of toilet tissue, and more amorphous highclass townie garbage from the pervo’s street bag to the four winds. For that was all that seemed to be in the bag, newspapers, empty aluminum cans, tampons, bits of cardboard, useless scraps of rag, a lot of townie crap without so much as an edible apple core or a gnawable rabbit bone, or any other potentially nutritive scrap of organic matter. As for the pervo’s half-eaten rat, whoever had previously munched on it must have done his gobbling quite a while ago. Even Gonzo was not ready to tear the thing apart for what edible bits might conceivably remain, at least not yet. Though he wasn’t ready to throw the rat away either, seeing as how it might just be possible to slip it to a blind beggar with a bad head cold in exchange for a butt or a belt of meth. “Stinking-culo-mother-plushie-pervo-cabron-bitchbastard!” If Gonzo hadn’t been too pissed off to think, he might just have been able to realize what deep shit he was really in. A real streetie’s real street bag would be filled with useful items—pieces of cloth big enough to stitch into something, fresh rat bones, bits of firewood, a brick that could be used as a weapon, maybe even a book of matches, a homemade shiv, or some real chunks of ratmeat if you hit the jackpot— not old paper and plushie tushie garbage that could have only come from a Zone. No real street bag, this. Meaning no real streetie, the stiff he had left in the alley. Meaning that if he were caught, it wouldn’t be the South Bronx or even a lobe-job, but a one-way token to Tube City, where, so the word from the bird had it, his meat would be used to give kibble what little flavor it had. “Goddamn-madre-jumping-son-of-a-cabron-bitch-putaaargh!” Verbally exhausted but still livid with rage, and still loping aimlessly northward, Gonzo upended the street bag, grabbed the bottom, and whirled it around his head, spraying the last bits of crap all over himself and another nearby screamer—a stooped, white-haired old woman dressed only in a ragged robe of brown paper and caught in an angry argument with an invisible Virgin Mary. Nothing unusual about that. The street was full of babblers and screamers as always, gibbering to themselves or to invisible companions, and no streetie survived very long reacting to anything so trivial as being showered with old paper and garbage from someone else’s shit-fit. But what was unusual—so unusual that it caused Gonzo to react once more to his environment and start thinking again—was that the dirty old chocha suddenly bellywhopped to the filthy pavement, grimy paw out-thrust to cover something that had clattered from the bag. Moving with street smart instincts, Gonzo stomped on the hand with the full weight of his body, eliciting a liquid scream of pain, then kicked upward, catching the crone in the chops and flipping her over on her back, where she scrabbled and moaned like an overturned turtle. And there on the cracked and filthy pavement was a metallic yellow coin. Prong a dong, a subway token! A subway token! Five bucks in townie dinero! When the winter winds began to blow in a few months, could be worth a streetie’s sweet life to risk the old Subterranio. Didn’t snow down under the ground. Warm it wasn’t, but you didn’t freeze, either. Good suerte again! Good luck too that only this old chocha had seen it. All this passed through Gonzo’s brain as he was scooping up his treasure and stuffing it safely into his jock. Only then did he pause to think that it had to be more than good luck that twenty other street smart bonzos weren’t even now kicking the crap out of him fighting for the prize. Only then did he dig that all the other streeties in the vecino were eyeing the sky and listening to the sound pound. And only after that did the clattering chattering penetrate his conscious attention. Whop-whop, chop-chop, a goddamn helicop was descending through the jagged canyon of burnt-out factory loft buildings towards the big bomb crater on Third and 30th. And this was no machine gun chop from the muni cops, it was a plushie tushie helicop, and it must be in deep trouble to be dumb enough to come down here in a streetie zone like a fat juicy bone! Snatching up the empty bag in case of swag, Gonzo joined the gleeful rush to greet this tasty meat dropping right down to the nonexistent mercy of the street. A sinking feeling blossomed in Mary’s stomach as the helicopter fluttered down past the burned-out buildings to land in a big rubble-strewn crater conveniently left as a landing pad by some thoughtful terrorist’s bomb of days gone by. And not just from the drop. They were coming down right in the middle of a crowd of streeties; or rather a crowd of streeties, maybe as many as three dozen of them, was forming up around the crater as they came down into it. The pilot moaned as the skids touched down. Dearie whimpered and squirmed in the lap of Missus Van Gelder, who cuffed him across the muzzle. “If you pee on me, I’ll kill you, Dearie!” she shrieked. “Don’t turn off the engine!” Mary told the pilot as she cocked the Uzi. “This could get rough.” The three of them sat there for a long moment as the circle of filthy, haggard, hungry-eyed streeties hesitantly began to converge, step by halting step, on the grounded helicopter, whose rotors turned slowly and throbbingly overhead as if to provide ominous background music. But that stupid plushie tushie bitch had all the street smarts of her pissy little lap-dog. “Well what are you waiting for, you idiot?” she said, jamming the leash into the hand of the ashenfaced pilot. “Go take Dearie for his walk before he makes all over.” Despairingly, imploringly, the pilot locked eyes with Mary for a long moment. She shrugged unhappily at him. “Make it fast,” she told him, brandishing her Uzi upwards like a spear. “Stay right by the helicopter and I’ll cover you.” “Mama mia . . .” the pilot groaned. But he popped the canopy, and, as Mary stood up levelling the Uzi at the streeties as menacingly as she could manage, he snatched up the dog and stepped out onto the ground. The circle of streeties seemed to ooze backwards a few steps as they caught sight of the machine pistol. But then, with an audible sigh of collective lust, they seemed to flow forward again as they saw the cocker spaniel already squatting and pissing as the pilot set it down. Street smart memories that she thought she had lost, that she had tried so hard to lose, flooded in on Mary. She knew all too well what was going through those perpetually-starved brains out there. A dog! An actual dog! Forty pounds of meat! Twenty or thirty rats’ worth, sleek and fat and well-fed, enough for three months of luxury, maybe more if you didn’t make a pig of yourself! She could all but feel the drool forming in her own mouth out of timewarped sympathy. “Pero!” someone shouted. “Pero, pero, pero!” “Dog!” “MEAT!” “MEAT! MEAT! MEAT!” more than one voice shouted. Then they were all chanting it, inching towards the helicopter and working up their courage for a charge. “MEAT! MEAT! MEAT!” Mary waved her Uzi in the air. “Get back!” she shouted. “Get back, you dirty.” A chunk of stone came sailing up out of the anonymity of the mob, missing both her and the helicopter. Then a brick hit the canopy, shattering half of it into a webwork of cracks. All at once, bricks and stones and pieces of broken bottles were whistling overhead, raining down on the helicopter as the mob, with an animal growl, surged forward. “Shoot!” Missus Van Gelder screamed. “Shoot! Shoot! Shoot! Kill the dirty sons of bitches!” As dozens of wild-eyed howling streeties shambled like killer apes towards the helicopter, Mary didn’t have to be told what to do. Her finger tightened on the trigger, sending a short loud burst of gunfire right into the mob. Streeties shrieked and fell. The mob abruptly turned tail and began to flee in all directions like the denizens of an anthill fleeing from the sudden shock of a boot-heel. But Mary hardly noticed any of this. For the sudden screaming burst of machine gun fire had passed not three feet from the pilot’s head, scaring him out of his socks. He threw up his hands in panic, and in so doing, let go of the leash. The panicked cocker spaniel, yelping and barking, went tear-assing across the crater right on the heels of the fleeing streeties. Gonzo, stuck in the rear of the crowd of streeties by the press of bodies, was frozen for a moment by the sound of machine gun fire and screams of agony, long enough to be knocked on his ass by some bonzo when the mob turned to flee. Scrabbling to his feet in terror, he saw a black furry shape dashing right by his arm, barking and whining. The dog! What luck! Forty pounds of meat for the monster, muchacho! Before his fuddled brain even had time to form these simple thoughts, his street smart instincts had acted. With lightning speed and with every ounce of strength in his scrawny arm, he raised up his fist and brought it down on the head of the cocker spaniel. Before the pole-axed dog could even hit the ground, he snatched it up by the tail, stuffed it head-first into his street bag, shouldered the sack, and was up and running like a son of a bitch. “My God, he’s got Dearie!” Missus Van Gelder screamed. “Stop him! Stop him!” But even as Mary fired, the plushie tushie bitch yanked at her arm, and the burst did nothing more than send chips of stone flying into the air not ten yards from the helicopter. “Don’t shoot, you imbecile, you could hit Dearie!” Then Gloria Van Gelder’s pale powdered puss was inches from her own, as livid and drooling with rage as any Mary had seen in her previous incarnation as a streetie. “You go out there, you incompetent cow, and you bring back my Dearie alive, or you don’t bother to come back at all!” she snarled in a hysterical voice backed with cold steel. “I’ll have you digging rocks in the South Bronx till you drop! I’ll lobe you myself! I’ll have you ground up into kibble! And don’t you think I can’t do it, you wretched scum.” Mary didn’t. Not for a moment did she doubt that with a wave of her fat-fingered hand, this chocha could and would destroy everything she had become since she clawed her way off the street. But for one brief moment, she did toy with the delicious notion of jamming the muzzle of her Uzi right down this lousy plushie tushie’s throat and emptying an entire magazine directly into her stinking guts. Then she was off and running. High on the fly with swag in his bag, Gonzo’s street smarts put brains in his feet. The mob was fleeing south on Third, the street was hot on the trot as the bird spread the word, and he knew he didn’t have much chance of keeping forty pounds of dog in his bag on a streetie main drag. He needed to fade from this scene like a submarine, and so he turned east on the first side street. His luck held. No one else had made this turn. There was nothing on this narrow street but burned out building shells mounded with ancient garbage. Somewhere in these ruins there must be something sharp enough to cut up the mutt into meat, and if he could score a match somewhere. But as he paused for a moment to catch his breath and check out his chances, he heard the sound of running feet. Turning, he was brought right down to the ground, clown, by the sight of the zonie from the helicop halfway up the street behind him, running hard, closing fast, and waving that goddamn machine gun chop. “Son-of-a-mother-jumping-puta-goddamn-zonie-bitch!” he screamed in outrage as he made his feet do their stuff. But with forty pounds of dog on his back, he wasn’t going to outrun no zonie for long. And ditching the dogmeat to save his own was not even a thought that crossed his mind. She was starting to gain on him as he turned the corner and came out onto Lexington. Bad luck, boy, muy malo! And then good. He had come out onto the next main drag not a block from a subway stop! And for the first time in his life, he had a token in his jock! The shock of such an incredible roll of good fortune—a token, the dog, now a subway stop—was like a cold whack in the chops that brought Gonzo’s street smarts rushing back. Against all reasonable animal instincts, knowing that his pursuer would now be closing even faster, he forced himself to slow to a trot, and then to a mere brisky saunter as he entered the sphere of attention of the muni cop guarding the entrance against the more obvious chopartists, screamers, and psychoscum. Be cool, don’t be a fool, he told himself, flashing his token for the indifferent benefit of the bored muni as he descended the stairs to the subway station. Mary turned the corner onto Lexington just in time to catch a glimpse of the top of a heavily-laden street bag disappearing down the stairs of the subway entrance up the block right under the stupid eyes of some lobed-out muni. Or so she thought. At this distance, it was hard to tell one swag bag from another, and for a few moments she could still delude herself that maybe she wasn’t going to have to chase the damn dog-snatcher through the subway, where her chances of catching him were slim to none. But the mother was nowhere else in sight as she trotted up to the muni, waving her Uzi as a badge of zoniehood to cut any crap, and her brief interrogation of the cop put the seal on it. “Skinny pimply geek with a dog in his bag?” “Plenty of skin and bones with pimples, ain’t seen no dog in three years, whaddaya think this is, Madison and 60?” “What just went down the stairs. Pimples? Heavy bag?” “Yeah, regular pimple-puss. Big bag of swag, now thatya mention it, musta had fifty pounds of crap in there. Flashing a token too.” Oh no! The odds against any streetie having a token were ten to one against. The odds against the one streetie that snatched the damn dog having one were forget it. Mary had hoped that if the bonzo had ducked into the subway entrance, he had simply panicked, wouldn’t get past the barrier, she’d be able to comer him like a nice fat trapped rat. But if the mother got past the barrier and into the Subterranio itself— “Mierda!” she snarled, and dashed down the stairs. One bit of luck was that this was a small local station, this entrance only opened onto the uptown local platform. At the bottom of the stairs was the entrance barrier and a small one-man token fortress. The barrier was the usual floor-to-ceiling wall of rusting, bullet-pocked three-inch armor plate. The fortress was a seven-by-seven-by-seven cube of the same, with a rotating tv camera enclosed in bullet-proof glass on top, a single money-and-token slot at shoulder level and the muzzle of a fifty-caliber machine gun poking out just below it. One of the three revolving turnstile doors in the barrier was just turning shut behind someone. No one in sight, and no place here to hide. Mary wasted no time interrogating the token clerk, seeing as how her eardrums and the soles of her feet were picking up the vibes of a train approaching distantly down the tunnel. She stuck a token in the turnstile slot, and with a belt from her shoulders, forced the rusty stile barrier to turn, valving her onto the subway platform. The uptown platform was dim, gray-green, filthy, stinking, and pretty deserted. A muni armed with an M-16 lounged under one of the still-working lights close by the barrier. Four townies in subway masks stuck close by him staring across the tracks at the downtown platform. Up the platform towards the uptown end, a female streetie squatted. Nothing out of the ordinary. Mary could see the lights of a train approaching the platform from downtown. That end of the platform lay in darkness, all the lights there having long since ceased to function. Odds on, her quarry was down there somewhere… She turned to interrogate the muni. “Did you see where—” At that inopportune moment, with a roar, a squeal, and a gut-wrenching clatter, the train barrelled into the station— “—Wha—?” “—Did you see—” “—Huh—?” —Hiss! Crunch! Squeal! Clang! The train came to a juddering halt and half the car doors slid open. “I SAID DID YOU SEE A BONZO WITH A HEAVY STREET BAG?” “Ya gotta scream in my face like that?” the muni snarled intelligibly in the momentary silence. The masked townies (Mickey Mouse, Horseface, Clown, Frankenstein) dashed into the nearest car. The streetie daintily wiped her butt with the hem of her robe. “I said, did you—” Way at the downtown end, a figure carrying a heavy bag and glancing in Mary’s direction dashed out of the darkness into a subway car. The doors started to close— “Crap!” Mary snarled, dashing for the nearest door, and managing to wedge it just enough ajar with the butt of her Uzi to snake inside. Clunk! Hiss! Whirr! Jolt! The train began to pull out of the station. Safe for the moment, Gonzo had time to think, and once he began to think, he couldn’t figure this crazy zonie. Why had she chased him this far? Natch, forty pounds of dogmeat would be a neat snatch even for a zonie, she must have the drool for the pero. But then why hadn’t she chopped at him with her piece; she sure hadn’t been slow with the blow back at the helicop. Loco in the coco, jamoco! Gonzo dashed up the subway car to check out the doors at the uptown end. Days of yore, these had opened to connect the cars, but they had been long since welded shut for security isolation. Once he saw that the weld still held, that the zonie couldn’t carhop in here after him, he dropped down on one of the blue-green plastic benches that ran the length of the subway car to catch his breath and suss the scene. There were only about a dozen people in this car, and they were all townies hiding behind their subway masks, staring into space trying to pretend that no one else existed in the hope that no one would notice they existed. No streeties to get any droolies for what might be in his bag. Good thing too, because now he could see that the bottom of the bag was oozing blood. Anyone with street smarts knew that fresh blood meant raw meat, skeet. Only these townies, lobed-out for the duration behind their dumb masks with goo jammed up their ears, too gutless to even let their faces hang out naked in the Subterranio, would make like they couldn’t see he had mucho muncho in his poncho. Hanging by one hand from a subway handle and dangling her chop from the other, Mary was given a wide zone all to herself by the masked townies, who sucked themselves even deeper into subway trance at the sight of this armed crazy, as she pondered the tactical situation. There were five cars between her and the bonzo and most if not all of the doors between would be welded shut. So you could say that she had him cornered in the extreme downtown sardine can. All she had to do was get to him. Which, she realized, she could do at thirty fourth Street, the next station. Timing and speed, that was her need. When the train stopped and the doors opened, she would dash out, run down the platform, and with luck get into the car where he was holed up before they closed again. The trick was the timing—she had to make sure that he didn’t slip out as she was slipping in. If he did, she’d be stuck in the train while he stood on the platform waving bye-bye and then her only chance would be to risk a head-shot on the flyby and hope she didn’t hit Dearie in the bargain. On the other hand, if she were willing to risk shooting at all . . . Not without a certain strain of the brain, Gonzo tried to think like a zonie. What was her next move along this groove? Hippity-hop, car-to-car at the next stop, that’s what he’d do if he were a zonie cop. And if he could hop out just as the doors were closing and she was hopping in . . . It’d be fun, son, she’d be off to the next station in the can, man, and he’d be standing there waving adios to the heat still holding the meat! Mary leaned against the doors as the train clanked and squealed into the next station, primed to move the moment they opened. Grind! Squeal! Clank! Thud! Zip! The doors opened. Or rather one of them did, the other jamming. Mary snaked through, elbowing aside a fat townie in a devil mask who was trying to get in, made up one car, slipped on some crap, stumbled into two more townies, swept them out of the way snarling, made another car length, saw the bonzo peering out of a door three cars ahead, made another car length— —The train doors started to close— —She made for the nearest one, saw her prey starting to dash out of the train onto the platform as she ducked inside— And fired a long wild burst along the length of the intervening cars, scattering screaming townies, pinning him inside as the doors slid shut and the train left the station. The townies caught in the car with this maniac and her smoking gun sat motionless behind their silly subway masks, cringing a bit as she glared at them while fitting in a fresh clip, but otherwise earnestly ignoring everything that happened in a punctilious display of standard straphanger manners. Only a couple of slimy streeties at the far end of the car were babbling and moaning. “Snap your yaps, or I’ll ice your dice, lice!” Mary screamed at them. “I’ll drop that bop on the next goddamn stop!” Gonzo knew he had to move now, like pow! or on the next pass, his ass was grass. The townies in the car were pissing and moaning, yet at the same time trying to pretend nothing had happened as they oozed as unobtrusively as possible towards the downtown end, away from the monster. “Son-of-a-bitch-bastard-puta-mother!” he screamed at them as one switch in his brain clicked off, and another clicked on, and he grabbed a geek in a Mickey Mouse mask, who had been too slow in moving, by the throat. “Snap your yap, jap!” he snarled as the townie gurgled and gargled. Street smarts took over, and, using the townie’s head like a hammer, he began battering at the nearest window. Clang! Screech! Thud! The train pulled into the next station. Mary squeezed through the half-opened doors, ran down the platform, shoving townies out of the way with the muzzle of her Uzi, and made it into the extreme downtown car. Two rows of townies huddled towards the end of the car spaced and shaking behind their subway masks. Except for a geek in a Mickey Mouse mask who lay on the bench towards the middle of the car in a smear of blood, beneath a window whose glass had been battered out to form a jagged exit. The doors slid shut. Gingerly, Mary stuck her head through the shard-guarded windowframe. The train began to move. Peering downtown as the train began to move uptown, she saw a figure carrying a heavy street bag on its shoulder tear-assing down the subway tunnel. “Son-of-a-bitch-puta-mother-bastard!” she screamed, firing a wild burst after him without thinking. The bullets echoed and pinged harmlessly off the concrete walls, and then the sound was lost in the ear-killing noise of the subway train getting up to speed. Now that he was home free all, Gonzo allowed himself the luxury of feeling his fatigue. Scattered blue lights bathed the subway tunnel in a dim pale glow. A line of pylons separated the uptown from the downtown tracks. Man-sized alcoves were incised into the tunnel wall at regular intervals for the benefit of track crews avoiding passing trains. Gonzo huddled in one of these. His feet were meat, his back was beat, and he really wanted a cool 24 on his seat. But while he was pretty sure he had given the zonie the slip, he knew he wasn’t quite finished with this run, son. Not until he had the dog butchered, dressed out, and cooked. For one thing, a forty pound mutt was only maybe thirty for the gut, and after having his ass chased all over already, he didn’t feature carrying the useless extra freight. For another, raw dogmeat would start to stink in a day or two. With all the old metal junk down here, finding something to use as a knife wouldn’t exactly be worth your life, but he couldn’t cook his snatch without a match, and just sitting down in the open and barbecuing a whole dog would draw every streetie within range like birds to a turd. Much as he disliked the notion, he had to admit that a few pounds of the dog could buy him everything he needed, if he could find a solo lobo with a secret hooch where he could poach the pooch. Some dumb suck too weak to try and push his luck. Come to think of it, a chick would sure do the trick… Running on old street smart reflexes without being dumb enough to take time to think, Mary got off the uptown train, fought her way through the rush crush in this town under the ground, slipped into a downtown just pulling out, rode it two stops, and got off again. Couldn’t have taken more than five minutes. Which meant that the bonzo who she had last seen running downtown through the tunnel had to be uptown from her now and heading her way down the uptown tunnel. Fortunately for her, most of the lights at the uptown end of the downtown platform were long since gone, but there was still one burning at the uptown end of the platform across the tracks. Which meant that if she lay prone on the end of the platform, she would be invisible to anyone emerging from the tunnel, whereas he would become a nicely silhouetted target at point-blank range. Which meant that she should be able to drop him with a good tight headshot without much risk of hitting the dog. But once she took up this position, lying out of sight in the filth and shadows, she had nothing to do but listen and think and smell the stink. Like most townies without plushie tushie bread, Mary was constrained to ride the subway back and forth between work and her room. Although she felt a certain contempt for herself for doing it, like most townies, she wore earplugs against the noise, and a subway mask between her private inner world and the collective bummer of the subway and her fellow straphangers. This was usually enough to space her into the traditional subway riding trance, which hypnotic state was usually enough to allow her to push full awareness of the olfactory component of her surroundings below the level of conscious awareness. But now, unmasked, unplugged, lying right in the down and dirty, and forced by the pragmatics of the situation into full sensory alert, she really smelled the subway for the first time in either this or her previous life. It stank. P.U. B.O. L.A.M.F. Like rank. It stank of generations of piss and sweat and crap. It stank of the collective body odor of the tens of thousands of scum lower than streeties who actually lived down here. It stank of old broiled rat and garbage-fire smoke. It stank of the tension, suppressed fear, and sour despair of the millions of townies who found themselves processed through it twice a day. Once you let the smell penetrate your awareness, it permeated your whole being, it let you know that your own body odor was another part of the ghastly whole. It was a stink that made Mary think, and what she thought about was her own state of sweaty despair. Dearie, the goddamn stupid mutt, might very well already be dead. She had seen the dog bashed on the head, hadn’t she, and the sucker had really been brained. Come to think of it, she had never seen a struggling sign of life in the street bag, and had heard not a bark or whine of protest from the normally noisy creature throughout the whole chase. And if the dog hadn’t been dead when the bonzo had stuffed it in the bag, there was a good chance that he was killing it right now. Man, if she were the streetie with a dog in her bag, she’d sure as hell make sure the mother was dead as soon as possible. Even if he thought she had given up, he’d know that a bark or a yelp would attract attention, and any such attention you drew down here would mean nothing but trouble of the worst possible kind… Out of the corner of her eye, she clocked the comings and goings on the subway platform. The evening rush was in full swing. Train after train roared by scant feet from where she lay, rattling her brain. Masked townies zipped in and out through the crush trying hard not to see each other or anything else. This not being one of the main station complexes, what they were really trying to avoid seeing was little in evidence—the permanent floating population of streeties, of things lower than streeties, that lived, or at any rate existed, down here full time, the Subway Scum that never saw the light of day. Even in the worst times of her dimly-remembered streetie days, Maria had never been dumb or desperate enough to spend the hours between 9 P.M. and 7 a.m. in the subway, not even when the streets above were filled with slimy slushed snow and the temperature at night hit ten below. When the subways shut down at 9, all the lights went out, and what hid in the tunnels and crannies during the subway “day” slithered out to claim a night blacker than a plushie tushie’s heart. And the word from the bird was that anything that moved was meat. You could get a hint of what that meant if you glimpsed out of the corner of your eye at what lurked around the darker edges of the major stations like Times Square or Grand Central during the day. Babblers and screamers. Lumps of filthy flesh sleeping under mounds of newspapers. Bits and pieces of bone it didn’t pay to look too closely at piled around last night’s cookfires. Even with plenty of ammo for the Uzi, Mary didn’t have the dumb guts to risk being caught down here when the lights went out. She’d give up first, she’d take her chances with Missus Gloria Van Gelder, she’d go back to the streets, she’d. Oh no! Oh yes! Mary snapped out of the hypnogogic reverie into which, in retrospect, she realized she had fallen. How long had she lain here? How many trains had gone by? She’d lost track. She’d lost count, or never taken it. But she’d certainly been lurking here more than long enough for the bonzo with the dog to come slinking up the tunnel. If he was going to. Crap, it figured! She’d been a zonie too long. She’d lost her street smarts, she’d forgotten how to think like truly desperate prey. If she were the streetie with a dog in her poke, if she had been chased and nearly nailed by a zonie with an Uzi, what would she do? She’d hole up in that tunnel between stations and stay out of sight until the lights went out, that’s what she’d do! Figuring correctly that no townie, not even a heeled zonie, would want her ass bad enough to risk her own in the subway after 9. Then, and only then, would she sneak up the tunnel towards the nearest station, and, unless her luck was bad, escape to the street with the meat. Face it Maria, that suck isn’t going to come walking down these tracks while the lights are on. And even if you’re crazy enough to wait here till they go out, which you are not, you won’t even be able to see well enough to get a clean head-shot from five feet out. You’ve been handing yourself a con, mon, she knew. Only two ways to go, mojo. Into that tunnel after the suck before the lights go out, or hang it up and let the mother keep the pup, in which case your meat will be back on the street. Mary got to her feet, pretending for a moment that she was making up her mind, that the possibility of true choice really existed. A train came roaring into the station not three feet from her nose. The rush was waning now, only about a dozen townies got on, and fewer got off. She had no more time to play games with her mind. It was now or never. So when the train left the station, she slipped over the platform lip and onto the downtown tracks. Keeping close to the tunnel wall and away from the electrified third rail, she went trotting off uptown through the tunnel, following the dim line of blue bulbs ever deeper into the semidarkness, eyes alert for any movement up ahead, ears pricked to anticipate the rumble of trains approaching from the rear, nerves scraping rawer and rawer with the everbuilding tension. Gonzo didn’t feature this, he didn’t like the look of it at all. He’d been slowly and ever so carefully making his way downtown through the tunnel, following the trail of blue bulbs, ducking into an inspection alcove every time a train began to approach, long before he became visible in the oncoming lights. Starting and freezing every time he heard a rat scuttle or the unfathomable clank of distant machinery. Now he was approaching a totally dark section of the tunnel where all the lights were out, every last one of them, downtown and up, for as far ahead as his eyes could see. As he squinted into the dark trying unsuccessfully to penetrate the ominous gloom, something seemed unnatural about the situation, you didn’t expect things to be working down here very well, but . . . Then he felt the pressure wave of an oncoming train moving uptown towards him from behind the blackness. He ducked into an alcove, and a minute or two later, the onrushing headlights of the train lit up the dark section of tunnel for a few moments as it came around a bend into visibility. In those few moments, Gonzo saw that the dead bulbs up ahead hadn’t merely been burned out and never replaced. Every last one of them on both the uptown and downtown sides of the tunnel had been smashed. And for a flash Gonzo saw, or thought he saw, or tried to convince himself he didn’t see, a big, hairy, raggy-baggy shape shamble quickly across the tracks like a jungle ape. Clutching something that seemed to gleam like a well-cleaned blade. Mary plastered herself to the tunnel wall as the train went by. When it had passed, she looked uptown with a sinking feeling in her guts. The next whole section of the tunnel was dark. Dead black dark. So dark that she reflexively glanced behind her at the receding row of dim lights just to make sure that they were still on, that she hadn’t lost track of time and been caught down here after nine. When she assured herself that the lights behind her were still feebly burning, a part of her, a big part of her, wanted to turn tail and follow them home rather than venture further into the dark and deadly. But she knew that if she followed those lights now, if she left this damn place without the goddamn dog, there wouldn’t be any home to return to—no job, therefore no money, therefore no next month’s payment on her room, therefore no room, therefore her ass would be back on the street. Son of a chicken bitch! she told herself. You’ve got your chop, girl! Got your zonie moves, you mean jungle-mother! And if I was that gonzo sucker, I’d be right there in the dark lurking, figuring this poor little muchacha would chicken out and start twitching and jerking. Go get that suck, with any luck, he’s in there just waiting for mama! Thus pumping herself up, Mary slowly began walking uptown again, into the darkened section of tunnel, up on the balls of her feet, her finger on the trigger, holding the Uzi before her like a spear. Within twenty yards or so, the tunnel took a bend, and when she had rounded it, she was walking through total blackness. Her nerves started screaming in protest, but she couldn’t let herself stop now. Even though every fall of her feet sounded to her like an elephant crunching along on broken glass. Even though she froze every few feet at little sounds, real or imagined. The darkness seemed to go on forever in space and in time. Phantom shapes were flickering across the insides of her blinded eyes, glowing yellow eyes, gleaming mouths full of razor-sharp teeth, horribly flapping wings of night, and the squealing and scraping of rats and bats and things that. “Gargha! Eeegah!” Something screaming, gibbering, puke-stinking foul, strong and heavy, suddenly smashed into her in the darkness, mewling and slavering and slamming her up against a tunnel pylon! Teeth sank into her shoulder sending a lightning bolt of pain down her arm, claws raked her face, the Uzi went flying into the darkness. Then there was a quick flash of blue light that engraved an awful after-image on her retinas as it faded as fast as it had come. Muzzle first, the machine pistol had hit the third rail, fusing and sizzling in a shower of electric blue sparks that revealed. A huge hulking male thing, all muscles, rotten rags, crap-matted hair and beard, pinning her to the pylon with its body, lifting a face that was all hair and red eyes and brown jagged teeth dripping with her own blood, so close to her nose that she gagged on the fetid stench of its horrid breath as the after-image faded to black. “Puta-mother!” she screamed in the dark, and, bracing her back against the pylon, brought her knee up with desperate strength at where she calculated its crotch would be. “Eeeeee!” A shrill burbling scream and something soft bruising against her kneecap. Claws at her eyes. Something hard hit her gut, knocking the wind out of her. Her knees started to fold and she began to fall. But not before she brought down the heel of her right hand where she hoped a neck would be and felt a satisfying resistance against it as she fell forward into a stunning jolt of head on head. Something stabbed feebly at her chest. Then she was down on the dirt with a heavy weight atop her drooling and grunting and clawing at her face. And the sound of a train clattering toward her from around the bend in the tunnel. Somehow, she got her feet up, wedged in between her stomach and the creature. She could feel the pressure wave of the approaching train now, see a light rushing towards her, eclipsed by the dark bulk pressing down on her body. “Eee-YAH!” she shouted, putting all her remaining strength into a double-legged kick, flipping the thing up off her, back-first into the side of the train rushing past them at high speed. The body bounced off the moving train like a basketball off a backboard and smashed into her as she tried to rise, knocking her over backwards. There was a sudden sharp pain at the back of her head and then her own lights went out. Gonzo had no idea how long he had been frozen there, squeezing as deep into the alcove as possible, trying to become invisible. He had seen a thing much too big for him to want to tussle shamble across the tracks. He had heard screams and grunts and the sounds of bovver. Then an electric blue flash and two struggling figures as something hit the third rail. Then more screams and fight sounds. Then the lights of an approaching train outlining two nasty mothers rolling around on the tracks. Then nothing but darkness and silence up ahead for a long, long time. No logician he, but this kind of calculation his street smarts could handle: he had seen something too big to mess with, that something had gotten into it with something else, therefore whichever one of them had come out on top, he did not feature facing it, in the dark or in the light. No way he was going to go ahead towards whatever lurked in the dark. And unless the two of them had offed each other or the train had gotten them both, a percentage you had to be loco in the coco to play, something muy fuerte was up ahead of him in the dark, and might be silently creeping up the tunnel towards him right now. So if he turned tail and fled uptown, he might be spotted by the whatever, a little guy with a big bag outlined by the tunnel lights before him. Yeah, he’d be visible, and whatever was down there would be watching him out of the impenetrable dark. So the scam, Sam, was to hold the line. When the whole subway went dark, the percentage would be his, he knew there was something down there, but it didn’t know about him. He hoped. When neither of them could see, if he could move without tipping a sound, he could slink uptown home free. Dashing down the snowy street five steps ahead of two dudes with open flies. She grabbed the rat by its tail and bashed its brains out against the wall. Grabbing up a brick from the pile of rubble, she smacked him across the chops with it. The dog ran yelping and screaming. The john, grunting and swearing. Gobbets of pigeon slid down her gullet. A throb of pain somewhere, and a deeper, duller thud of pain somewhere else. Maria didn’t really know when she had come to. Shoulder, right. Head, right. Fragments of dream-images whirling behind her eyes at some point became fragments of fear images whirling in the dark. She had a head and shoulder somewhere, and they hurt like a son of a bitch. Body, right. There was a body laying on some hard rocks or something, didn’t feel good. Her body. She had a body. It was laying in a twisted heap with a bonging header and a sharp pain in its right shoulder. She was laying on the ground with a pain in her shoulder and another in her head. She was waking up, or maybe she had been awake for a while without really knowing it. Open the eyes. Nada. Big black nothing. Panic. What the. Memories came flooding back. The dark section of tunnel. A fight. The train. A hit on the head. Then nothing. Until now. She was Maria. No, she was a zonie named. Reflexively, she reached for the reassurance of her Uzi. It wasn’t there. Then she remembered the gun hitting the third rail, and it all came back to her, and she knew where she was and what had happened. Her Uzi was done for. She had kicked that filthy putamother right into a train, and then the body must have bounced into her, bashing her head against something which must have knocked her out. She didn’t have any way of knowing how long she had been out cold in hours and minutes, but that didn’t matter the way time was measured down here. Because what counted, all that counted, was that it was after nine in the subway, all the lights were out, and her chop would be useless even if she stumbled on it in the dark. The panic returned, an informed, logical panic this time, and all the worse for its clarity. She couldn’t see anything. She didn’t know which way was uptown or downtown and there was no way to figure it out. She caught herself freaking before she realized that that didn’t matter now. Because she was in deep enough shit without worrying about any goddamn dog anymore. And whichever way she went, she’d come to a station. She took a deep breath, gathering her wits. Find the tunnel wall. Once she did that, she’d have the whole width of a set of subway tracks between her and the third rail. To be on the safe side, better crawl. So instead of rising, she began crawling blindly through the muck and filth of the tunnel floor. She hadn’t gone more than a few yards before her outstretched fingers recoiled from something warm and soft and sticky. Reflexively withdrawing, she reflexively stifled a reflexive scream. Nothing moved. The moment of panic passed as she realized this must be the corpse of her attacker. Whom she had bounced off a fast-moving train, and who therefore must be very, very dead. She relaxed. She almost felt good. She had won. She had killed this great big crazy mother. And he had been armed with a knife. A knife. Efficiently, professionally, she ran her fingers all over the corpse until she found it, realizing, but not really caring, that the sticky wet stuff she was getting all over herself was blood. Then she touched something hard and metallic. Gingerly, she ran her fingertips along it until she touched rags. A rag-wrapped handle. She had it. She snatched it up. She had a knife. It might not be an Uzi, but at least it was a weapon. It felt so much better to be heeled. Maria felt an almost sensual calm passing from the handle of the knife, down her arm, into her body, and thence to her brain, which slowly assumed a predator’s icy calm. Having a weapon again made it possible to think clearly. For one thing, it was stupid to be crawling around in the muck worrying about touching the third rail; it was after nine, all the electricity was off. She scrambled to her feet as soundlessly as possible, for silence was still golden down here in the dangerous dark. She reached down and took off her shoes, the better to simulate a predator padding through the jungle of the night. Cunningly, methodically, she began to pad in ever widening spiralling circles, until, inevitably, the outstretched fingers of her left hand touched the tunnel wall. Choosing an arbitrary direction, she pressed her body up against the concrete. Feeling along the wall with her left hand, holding the knife cocked for action in her right, breathing in short, silent little sips, placing one foot softly and carefully in front of the other, she began creeping up the tunnel. Gonzo had lost his nerve, and he was just on the verge of admitting it to himself. Fact was, as long as he stayed here frozen to the tunnel wall in the soundless dark, he was safe. Nothing could see him, and as long as he didn’t move, nothing could hear him either. Whereas the moment he moved, anything that was waiting in the dark, anything that even now could be inches from his face could— —a soft, warm, sweaty palm brushed against his cheek— —He started, jumped, screamed, felt something whistle past his throat, wet his pants, and— “I’ve got a knife, twitch and you croak, bloke!” Maria hissed in the dark, listening for something to slash at. Silence. Darkness. The sound of ragged breathing over to the right, or her imagination? A stand-off. She had the knife, but both of them were blind. A waiting game. The first one to make a sound would reveal their position, and then . . . Slowly, ever so slowly in the silent dark, Gonzo’s street smarts began to overcome his fear. A voice. He had heard a chick’s voice. Did she really have a knife? Or was all that a scam, man? Or was she as scared crapless as he was? Or more afraid? He knew that what he was facing was only a muchacha with or without a blade, whereas she didn’t know what he was. . . . A chick . . . Hadn’t he been planning to do a trick with a chick? He made his voice as deep and menacing as he could, stepping back and aside as he spoke so she couldn’t slash at the sound. “Deal, muchacha! Got a sweet deal for you.” Silence. Darkness. Nada. “Come on, girl, give it a whirl,” Gonzo said irritably now. More silence. Then, over to the left, and maybe moving, a hesitant, harsh female voice. “What’s the word, turd?” Ah, got her talking now. If I can only . . . “Got a match, snatch?” “What if I do?” “Take a peek, freak.” “What’s your scam, Sam?” “Meat’s the treat, skeet!” Gonzo said seductively. “I got it, you cook it. Take a look, I won’t bite.” Meat? Dogmeat? Maria could hear her heart pounding in the dark. Could it be? Could this be the bonzo who pinched the dog? Standing right there in front of her knife offering his life? She had to. She had it made, she had the blade, and if she saw it was the suck, he was fresh out of luck. Trembling, she fished around in a pocket with her left hand and extracted a book of paper matches. Still clutching the knife handle, she used both hands to get it open, tore off a match. Holding the matchbook in her left hand, the knife and the match in her right, she struck it and —the sudden light dazzled her— —something leaped and battered at her hands— —the match guttered back into darkness— —the knife was gone— Now that he had copped the blade, Gonzo had it made. He could leave her in the dark and make a run . . . or he could really have some fun. And the snatch probably had another match. . . . “Hey, you got more fire, muchacha?” he said. Nada. She was playing it cool, she was nobody’s fool. “Meat’s the treat, skeet, like I say. I got a whole dog in my bag! Come on, what do you say, a big piece of my meat for a little piece of yours.” Ice-cold, red-hot, Maria did a slow bum in the dark, cursing her own stupidity, but still praising her luck at finding the suck. The puta-mother she was after! Her ticket back to the Zone! But the mother had her knife, and after he had her bod, it would probably be her life. After he had her bod, she realized with slow deliberation. Yeah, she’d be safe until he’d done his fun. And she’d handled the big geek who’d had the knife in the first place, hadn’t she? And this was a scrawny little crud, she had her zonie moves, and when he started to groove . . . I know who he is, but he doesn’t know what I am, she realized. Better play it dumb and hook the scum. “Dog . .?” she said in a little girl voice. “You gotta dog?” “We got a deal, girl?” “But . . . but how do I know you won’t just feed me the blade?” “Dead gash ain’t no stash.” Maria jut all the dumb little chocha stupidity she could into her voice. “Okay, man, I take a chance. . . .” “Gotta hooch where we can cook the pooch?” Mother, the dumb geek thought she was Subway Scum! Her confidence began to grow; that might be another angle she could use. “Forty Second Street,” she said, realizing suddenly that if she had run into him, she must have been heading uptown. Forty second on the IRT East meant Grand Central, a whole underground town, clown, where I can find someplace safe to grass your ass. “No quick moves,” said a voice coming towards her. “Don’t freak.” Then she felt an arm snake around her back and a sharp little prick between her shoulder-blades. “No smart stuff, muff,” he said beside her ear. And then they started walking uptown through the dark tunnel together, just like lovey-doves. Gonzo had never spent a night in the Subterranio, let alone with anything in his bag worth a tussle to Subway Scum muscle, so his nerves began to twitch when he saw the smoky red glow of fires up ahead. Still, he figured he had an edge, or so he told himself. Primero, he had the knife, and for another, he had this chick as back-up, and this snatch had managed to come out on top in a one-onone with that big and bad back there. This was Subway Scum gash, muchacho, she knew how the land lay, she knew what games to play. But he’d better not pop that he was as cherry down here as some dumb muni cop. “Look, we stick together, right?” he said as they approached the flickering, smoldering, dull red light outlining the mouth of the tunnel. “We back each other up?” “That’s the scam, Sam. For tonight, you’re my man.” “Okay, then no tricks, chick,” he said, removing the point of the knife from the pit of her back, and letting it dangle from his hand in plain dangerous sight. “Just remember, I’ve still got the blade.” As they emerged from the cover of the tunnel and into the Forty SecondStreet station, Gonzo could see that there were dozens of fires burning in the station above. In the smoky smelly light, he got his first real look at his lady of the night. Subway Scum for sure, mon! She was wearing something that might once have been yellow but was now a raggy bag smeared with blood, and crap, and ashy grey mung. Her tough-looking face was more of the same— scratched, and bruised, and caked with crud and old blood. She was one mean-looking mama, and that gave him cojones. They were a bad-looking combo, Mister and Missus Kick-Your-Ass, with a bag and a knife, screw with us, and it’s worth your life! Maria had seen the Grand Central subway station often enough by day, it was the biggest there was, one of the main hubs of the whole system, an underground town with newsstands and veggie stalls, rag stores and smoke stands, rat peddlers and knife shops, pom racks and meat racks. Dozens of stalls and stands and stores and peddlers, hundreds of thousands of potential customers passing through, and the city taking its cut from all the action, meaning that there was always a small army of munis conspicuously in evidence to keep things cool. But now, as they crawled up off the tracks onto the platform, it was a different world. All the floating peddlers were long since gone and all the stands and stalls and stores were sealed with armor-plate shutters that looked about three feet thick. Not a cop to be found, natch, and of course not a single electric light or townie in a subway mask. But there sure was light and sound and plenty of raw meat around! There were two platforms in this part of the station dividing four sets of tracks, and there were dozens of little fires burning on them where little solitary groups of shadowy figures hunched, rocking back and forth like spastics, mumbling and gabbling, and roasting rats and other morsels of meat. The flickering intermittent firelight tu

Rahan. Episode Nine. The Arc of Heaven. A few stones fell near the fire where the resin-soaked branches crackled and Rahan understood that he had become the game of primitive hunters. Clack! Hairy beings indeed sprang from the thickets, brandishing other stones. The son of Crao left his knife in its sheath because he hated to kill "Those-who-walk-upright". But he armed himself with a solid branch. Page Two: Rahan means no harm to the "Men-of-the-Night"! Why do they want to kill Rahan? Growling wildly, the clan rushed forward. Rahan will not let himself be knocked out like a boar! The Branch whipped the fire, throwing a volley of embers on the attackers who fell back screaming in fear. Ha-ha-ha! The "Men-of-the-Night" fear fire! No doubt they don't know the secret! Let them drop their stones and approach. Rahan will reveal to them the mystery of the "Burning Wood!" Page Three: It was too late when Rahan heard the whistling of the projectile behind him. Argh! Everything turned red like the heart of the fire and he did not even hear the shouts of triumph of the clan. When he came to, his wrists were as sore as his neck. Because he was tied to a tree. This magic item did not protect Rahan! The chief of the clan twisted between his fingers the ivory knife, the use of which he was obviously ignorant. To hunt and fight, these men only know how to throw stones, like the ancestors of Crao once did! Page Four: When all the hunters have returned, Rahan will be put to death! The captive understood why he was still alive. They wanted to sacrifice him in front of the assembled horde. The day was breaking behind the distant mountains that were blurred by a veil of rain. Rahan will teach you the secret of fire and many other things! Two of my sons were once devoured by fire! Cursed are those who make a pact with it! You will take your secrets with you in death! And do not expect to be saved by your talisman! With contempt, the chief had thrown the knife on the ground. At the very moment that the iridescent disc of the sun crested the mountains a noise arose. The hunters stood out, silhouetted in the rain. Page Five: The hunters are back, Rahan! The whole horde will participate in your execution!! Men were already arming themselves with heavy stones. They will break Rahan's skull and crush his limbs! The knife was too far away for Rahan to grasp. And these men would not have permitted him an attempt of that sort! The land of shadows awaits you Rahan!! The leader was about to strike the first blow when the captive exclaimed. If you kill Rahan the sky will open over your heads! Look on the mountain! Rahan, who had never seen a rainbow, was as amazed as the members of the horde. The rainbow of heaven! Page Six: But while dread hovered overhead, he had the reflex to use the miraculous phenomenon to his advantage. Run away! Run away! Hide yourself in the forest! This invitation was unnecessary. The panicked groups scattered on all sides. Rahan is a wizard! He will make the sky open! The rain had ceased and the rainbow sparkled marvelously on the mountain. Rahan will discover the mystery of heaven! The clearing was deserted. An insect stung Rahan, who was contorting his body desperately to reach the knife. Buzz! Aie! When Rahan is free, he will crush you! Uh. But will Rahan be able to break free!? Page Seven: Held to the resinous trunk, Rahan stretched all his limbs. But his knife remained inaccessible! Crack! Enraged, he tried to shake the deep-rooted tree and. Oh! A dead branch fell close to him. Rahan knows how to bring his knife closer! And a moment later he could indeed reach the ivory weapon. But had to engage in difficult contortions to bring the handle close to his mouth. Page Eight: Zizz! Buzz! You stung for the last time, cursed beast! Ra-ha-ha! The bonds fell and the victorious clamor of the son of Crao, awakened the echoes of the great forest. While the horde remained crouching, worried and silent, fascinated by the fantastic iridescence of the arc in the sky. Rahan, laughing, was chasing the insect that had harassed him during his captivity. Buzz! Buzz! Rahan will catch up with you!! Oh! The beast had just disappeared inside a hollow reed! Ha-ha-ha! This trick won't fool Rahan! He will dislodge you from there! Page Nine: Rahan broke off the reed, and in an instinctive reaction, blew very hard into it. Oh! Poof! Violently ejected from the other end of the reed, the insect fluttered towards a branch. Rahan blew very hard and pushed this beast away. Rahan can therefore project something else! Seeing a long thorn, Rahan slipped it into the reed. The insect, still dizzy, stayed immobile on the branch. Ha-ha-ha! For play, Rahan aimed at the beast and puffed. Page Ten: Buzz! Naturally, he did not hit that miniscule target, which immediately vanished. But the thorn in the bark was a revelation to him. A man can therefore strike his enemy from a distance thanks to the “wind-of-the-cheeks”. And Rahan thought, if he throws those thorns whose sting puts you to sleep, he has a silent and formidable weapon! And so in these fierce times, had just germinated in the mind of Rahan, the idea of what would later be called a "Blowpipe". But another idea still haunted the son of Crao. This Gigantic and marvelous arc suspended in the sky. Page Eleven: Even Crao, who knew so many things, never spoke to Rahan about the “Arc-of-Heaven”! The whole horde held their breath when they saw Rahan heading for the mountain. By the grace of the magic object he has freed himself! He is not a man but a god! Watch, he defies the sky! Rahan was indeed screaming words to the clouds. Rahan has pierced a hundred mysteries! He discovers the secret of the "Arc-of-Heaven"! And he climbed the rock face with astonishing agility. Rising towards the splendid thing both yellow like the sun, blue like the river. Pink like the sunset sky, green like the young prairie grasses. Page Twelve: The dumbfounded horde followed his ascent. If Rahan can climb without dying towards the "Heaven-which-opens", our hunters will go up there too! The son of Crao sometimes helped himself with his knife, clearing a projection to facilitate his climbing. He reached a plateau where some trees stood. Here the ground was cracked with deep crevices. An eagle in his area was disturbed and it suddenly swooped down on him. Rahan is not afraid of the "Hooked Beak"! Ah! But the eagle's beak struck faster than the man's knife. Page Thirteen: Knocked to the ground, Rahan grabbed a dead branch. He struck the eagle on the fly, breaking the neck of the winged monster. Ra-ha-ha! The victorious cry turned into a groan of bitterness. The ivory knife had disappeared! And Rahan understood that his weapon, escaping him, fell into the nearby crevasse! He leaned into it and his throat tightened. It would take a Rahan with the slenderness of a snake to slip in there! The knife was there on a projection in the wall. But it was inaccessible! Page Fourteen: It was indeed impossible for a man to get into this narrow crack. Rahan has lost his only possession! Rahan without his knife, will no longer be Rahan! And the "Men-of-the-night" this time will not spare Rahan! The hunters of the horde, still very far away, began to climb the rocks! Rahan knew how to bring his knife closer to free himself! This branch will help him try that again! A moment later Rahan growled in rage. The branch was too short! He rushed in search of another branch. But all were too twisted to enter the fissure! Page Fifteen: The cries of the hunters calling out to each other now reached him. Crack! Rahan will defend his life as the Blue Mountain clan taught him! The son of Crao clutched a strong branch from which the resin oozed. "The Blood-of-the-Trees"! Rahan should have thought of that sooner! He broke off the stickiest part and tied a long vine to it. Rahan will fish for his knife! Slowly, very slowly, he lowered his line to the ledge. The cries of the horde kept getting closer. The wood finally touched the ivory and Rahan's heart stopped beating. If the knife didn't stick to the resin! Page Sixteen: It will fall lower, and disappear forever in the darkness of the deep crevasse! Rahan drew slowly and the cutlass rose. But the slightest shock, the slightest bump against the rock could shake it off. A sweat of anguish beaded on the forehead of the son of fierce ages. He no longer heard the cries of the hunters. He thought only of the innumerable battles in which the precious knife had enabled him to emerge victorious. The ivory weapon brushed against the wall and Rahan would have to avoid any pendulum swings. Page Seventeen: Rest Calmly Rahan, he thought. Slowly, very slowly. The knife, in a moment, would be within reach. When his fingers closed on the handle of ivory, he fell his heart beating again. And stood up, triumphant! Ra-ha-ha! His clamor which thundered on the plateau mingles with that of the hunters. Which were springing up from all sides. The first stones were already falling, here and there. The "Men-of-the-night" have heavier legs than Rahan's! They won't catch him! Page Eighteen: The wide crevasse he crossed made his pursuers hesitate. And when the most daring jumped it. He was already on a ridge on the other side of the verdant mountain, gently sloping down to a river. Goodbye “Men-of-the-night”! There was no threat in this salute that he threw, his hand raised to the sky. But the hunters retreated abruptly, descending the rocks with dread. What are they afraid of? What danger makes them flee like this!? Rahan turned his head, looked up, and understood. The "Arc-of-Heaven" mysteriously dissipated into the clouds! Page Nineteen: They believed that Rahan could make "the rainbow" appear or disappear at will. And indeed. He raised his hand and the sky is closing!! He will annihilate our horde! It was to lend formidable intentions to the one who had always refused to consider as enemies "Those-who-walk-upright". Rahan may return to this territory one day. Maybe then the "Men-of-the-night" will not behave like animals anymore!? All that remained on the horizon, far beyond the river, was a segment of the "Arc-of-Heaven". Page Twenty: This last segment in turn dissipated before the son of Crao had reached the bank of the river. Rahan could not explain this strange and mysterious phenomenon, whose appearance had kept him alive. But he felt no fear, and no worry. Rahan will understand later what he cannot explain today! Such is his life! Yes, such was the life of Rahan, son of fierce ages. Such was the fate of Rahan, who went on the great river to meet other mysteries.

Chapter Twenty-Four. August 8, 1993. For the last four days I've been acting head of our newly organized Department of Public Resources, Utilities, Services, and Transportation (PRUST) for southern California. It is a strictly temporary position, and within the next 10 days I will turn the post over to another engineer, one of the group of volunteers I've been working with during the last two weeks. He will have the able assistance of a number of local people who were formerly employed either by one of the state, county, or municipal agencies here or by one of the private utility companies, and I have confidence he'll be able to iron the remaining bugs out of the department. With more than half the key people back at work here now, things are beginning to run almost normally. We have restored electricity, water, sewage treatment, rubbish collection, and W telephone service to all the occupied areas now-although electricity is strictly rationed. We have even put about 50 gasoline stations back in operation, and those civilians whose work assignments give them priority status can obtain fuel for their automobiles. PRUST covers our whole enclave, all the way from Vandenberg to the Mexican border, and I've done a lot of traveling to survey the needs and resources of the various areas and to get everything roughly coordinated. I'm really very pleased with what we've been able to accomplish in such a short time. Next to the military and to the Department of Food, PRUST has the most essential function to perform and employs the most workers of all the agencies we've set up here. One of the most interesting aspects of my work has been setting up the interfacing with the Department of Food. They produce the food; we transport it, store it, and distribute it. There were several problems to be worked out, primarily because a certain amount of the food which is produced does not go directly from the fields to the distribution points but is processed first. This means that the Department of Food needs to concern itself to a certain extent with storage and transportation from field to processing plant, before PRUST takes over the responsibility. Also DF has a specialized transportation need in moving its workers from their living quarters to the fields and back. I have had to familiarize myself with DF's whole operation in order to decide the best way to define our respective responsibilities. I am very impressed by what I have seen. They have mobilized more than 600,000 workers-about a quarter of the entire productive segment of the population under our control -for the production of food. Between 10 and 15 per cent of these workers are those Whites who were originally in farming or ranching in this area. Nearly a third are young volunteers in the 12 to 18 age range. The rest are people from urban areas who formerly worked in non-essential occupations and have now been assigned to work crews under DF's supervision. Many in the last group are now doing the first really productive work in their lives. This means DF is performing an important function of social rehabilitation as well as food production, and our Department of Education is working closely with DF on this. Every worker receives ten hours of lectures each week, and he is graded not only on his general attitude toward his work and on his productivity but also on his responsiveness to these lectures. There is a continual sifting process going on, with workers being reassigned to new work groups on the basis of attitude and performance in their previous groups. In this way there are already beginning to emerge from the general mass the first leader-trainee work groups. From the latter will be selected candidates for Organization membership. On several occasions during my tour of DF's operation I stopped to talk with workers in the fields. The morale varied considerably from the groups with a high proportion of former social parasites to the leader-trainee groups, but nowhere could it be called poor. Everyone has been made to understand that, despite the dislocations and the hardships caused by the revolution, we are now sure that there will be enough food to go around-but those who will not work will not eat either. My most profound impression comes from the fact that every face I saw in the fields was White: no Chicanos, no Orientals, no Blacks, no mongrels. The air seems cleaner, the sun brighter, life more joyous. What a wonderful difference this single accomplishment of our revolution has made. And the workers all feel the difference too, whether they are ideologically with us or not. There is a new feeling of solidarity among them, of kinship, of unselfish cooperation to complete a common task. Most of the news reports from other parts of the country are very cheering to us. Although the System is still holding on, it is only doing so through increasingly open and brutal repression. The entire country is under martial law, and the government is relying heavily on hastily armed and deputized Black goon squads to keep the White civilian population intimidated. Half the System's regular military units are still confined to their barracks as unreliable." Conditions are deteriorating nearly everywhere. Power outages, transportation and communications breakdowns, terror bombings, food shortages, assassinations, and massive industrial sabotage are plaguing the System and helping to maintain the general unrest. The Organization's action units are doing a heroic job, but their losses are heavy. Their only aim now is to maintain the pressure on the System and the general population by striking at every available target again and again and again, without letup. From the new volunteers who are slipping into our area through the enemy lines at a growing rate, we get a consistent story about the effect the chaotic conditions are having on people. The White liberals and the minorities are screaming hysterically for the government to "do something"; the conservatives are moaning, wringing their hands, and deploring the "irresponsibility" of it all; and the "average Joes" are becoming more and more exasperated with everyone concerned: us, the System, the Blacks, and the various liberal and conservative spokesmen. They just want a return to "normalcy"-and their accustomed comforts-as soon as possible. The System propagandists are making a big thing out of our forced evacuation of non-Whites and our summary liquidation of race-criminals and other hostile and degenerate elements here. It's not having the desired effect, however, except among the liberals and the minorities. The bulk of the population is too preoccupied with its own problems at the moment to shed a tear for "the victims of racism." The biggest fly in our ointment is northern California. Things are completely out of control there. General Harding has really botched the situation. It serves us right for having anything to do with a conservative; he, like all the rest, was standing behind the door when the brains were passed out, and so he got a double dose of pigheadedness to make up for it. (Note to the reader: Turner is referring to Lt. Gen. Arnold Harding, commander of Travis Air Force Base, which was located about halfway between San Francisco and Sacramento. Harding's role in the Great Revolution, though important, lasted only 11 weeks; he was finally assassinated by an Organization team on September 16, 1993, after several earlier attempts failed.) If the situation in the San Francisco-Sacramento area doesn't improve soon, we're likely to be involved in a civil war against the troops under Harding. The System would really love that. The only thing Harding has done right so far was breaking with Washington during the first week of our July 4 offensive, as soon as it became clear that the System had lost its grip in California. On his own initiative he declared an independent military government in northern California and got nearly all the other officers in military units stationed there (except our own undercover military people, of course) to go along with him. Revolutionary Command made the strictly practical decision to let General Harding carry the ball in his area, and our people were instructed not to oppose him. This had the effect of substantially reducing our own losses, although the military has actually suffered many more casualties in northern California than in the south. This is because Harding has failed to take sufficiently radical measures to consolidate his authority and to deal with Black military personnel. And he has failed utterly to get the civilian population under control-again, because he seems unable to understand the necessity for radical measures. The Jews and the other Bolshevik elements in San Francisco are running circles around him, and the Chicanos in the Sacramento area have been rioting more or less continuously for a month. When a delegation of Organization people went to Harding last month and suggested a joint Organization-military rule for northern California, with Harding's forces handling defense matters and the Organization handling civilian matters - including police functions-Harding arrested them and has refused to release them. Since then he has been issuing idiotic proclamations about "restoring the Constitution," stamping out "communism and pornography," and holding new elections to "re-establish the republican form of government intended by the Founding Fathers," whatever that means. And he has denounced our radical measures in the south as "communism." He is appalled that we didn't hold some sort of public referendum before expelling the non-Whites and that we didn't give individual trials to the Jews and race-criminals we dealt with summarily. Doesn't the old fool understand that the American people voted themselves into the mess they're in now? Doesn't he understand that the Jews have taken over the country fair and square, according to the Constitution? Doesn't he understand that the common people have already had their fling at self-government, and they blew it? Where does he think new elections can possibly lead now, with this generation of TV-conditioned voters, except right back into the same Jewish pigsty? And how does he think we could have solved our problems down here, except by the radical measures we used? Doesn't Harding understand that the chaos in his area will continue to grow worse until he identifies the categories of people responsible for that chaos and deals with them categorically-that it is physically impossible, considering the relative numbers involved, for him to deal with the Jews, the Blacks, the Chicanos, and the other troublesome elements on an individual basis? Apparently not, because the idiot is still making appeals to "responsible" Black leaders and to "patriotic" Jews to help him restore order. Harding, like conservatives in general, can't bring himself to do what must be done, because it would mean punishing the "innocent" along with the "guilty," the "good" Negroes and the "loyal" Jews along with the rest-as if those terms had any meaning in the present context. And so, afraid of treating individuals "unjustly," he is floundering around helplessly while everything goes to hell and the civilians in his area die like flies from starvation. Generals should be made of sterner stuff. The one advantage to us from the situation in the north is the flood of White refugees it has brought us. More people have been coming into our area in the last two weeks to get away from the anarchy around San Francisco than have been slipping through the System's lines from the rest of the country. And, while they last, it is interesting to have living, breathing examples of three types of social orders simultaneously before us: in the north, a conservative regime; to the east, liberal-Jewish democracy; and here, the beginning of a whole new world rising out of the ruins of the old. August 23. Tomorrow I leave for Washington again. I have been at Vandenberg for four days learning how nuclear warheads work. I am in charge of a group which will hand-carry four 60-kiloton warheads to Washington for concealment in key locations around the capital. Approximately 50 other men-all members of the Order-were trained with me, and each of them has a similar mission as a group leader. That means a total of about 200 warheads to be dispersed around the country initially, with more to follow later. All the warheads are identical; they were removed from a stockpile of 240-mm artillery projectiles our people found here. They've been slightly modified, so they can be detonated by coded radio signals. They will be our insurance, in case we lose our missile-launch facility here. The present mission is the hairiest one I've ever been assigned. It will be a lot tougher than blowing up the FBI headquarters two years ago. Five of us must make our way through 3,500 miles of enemy territory, carrying four nuclear bombs weighing a total of just over 520 pounds, without getting caught. Then we have to sneak them into areas that will be heavily guarded and conceal them, so that there is a negligible chance of their being found. Aside from the dangers involved, which tie my guts in knots whenever I think about them, I have mixed feelings about this mission. On the one hand, I hate to leave California. Being a participant in the birth of our new society hers has been tremendously exciting and rewarding for me, and our work is just beginning. New projects are being launched every day, and I want to be a part of them. We are laying the foundations here for the new social order which will serve our race for the next thousand years. And to be able to live and work in a sane, healthy, White man's world-that is something which is beyond valuation for me. These last few weeks have been wonderful. It is terribly depressing to think of leaving this White oasis and plunging once again into that cesspool of mongrels and liberals and Jews and sick, twisted White liberals out there. On the other hand, it has been more than three months since I've seen Katherine, and it seems like a year. The one thing which has limited my enthusiasm about what we've accomplished here is that she hasn't been able to share it with me. And now, with the changed situation, she and the others in Washington are living under much more difficult conditions and in greater danger than we here in California. Realizing that makes me feel guilty every day I remain. The strongest feeling I have now, however is one of responsibility. I am both proud and awed that I, still only a probationary member of the Order, am being entrusted with such an important and difficult task. I must try hard to put all other thoughts and feelings aside until it is successfully completed. During the last four days I have not only learned about the structure and functioning of the warheads for which I will be responsible, but also why this mission is vital. That involved A lesson in strategy which has been very sobering. The people in Revolutionary Command, with their eyes fixed firmly on our long-range goal of total victory over the System, have not let themselves be deluded by our gains in California and the present difficulties the System is facing elsewhere. The grim facts are these: First, outside of California the System remains essentially intact, and the disparity in numbers between the System's forces and our own is even worse than it was before July 4. Thatch because we've been recklessly expending our strength everywhere else in the country to keep the System off balance long enough for us to consolidate our gains here. Second, despite the military forces under our control here, the System-as soon as it has tidied up some of its present military morale problems-will be able to pound us into the ground by conventional means with very little trouble. The only thing that's really kept them off us this long has been our threat of nuclear reprisal against New York and Tel Aviv. Third, our nuclear threat is in grave danger of being neutralized. The System has the capability for launching a surprise first strike against us with a high probability of knocking out all our "hardened" launch silos before we can fire our missiles. Revolutionary Command's intelligence sources indicate that such a surprise strike is exactly what is being planned. The System is holding off only until it has finished an emergency military reorganization which will give it confidence in the political reliability of the U.S. Army. It wants to follow up its destruction of our nuclear capability immediately with a massive invasion which will finish us off in a day or two. Worse, the System has an alternative plan which calls for the nuclear annihilation of all of southern California. It will carry out that plan if it fails to regain complete confidence in the reliability of its military ground forces within the next couple of weeks. We still don't know the System's exact timetable, but we have reports that more than 25,000 of the wealthiest and most influential Jews and their families have quietly packed up and left the New York area within the last ten days, most of them taking 0 only a moderate amount of luggage with them-perhaps enough for a two- or three-week vacation. Thus, our entire strategy against the System has been undermined. If we could hold the enemy off indefinitely-or even for a year or two-with our threat of nuclear retaliation, then we could pull him down. With California as a training and supply base, and with a population of more than five million Whites to recruit from, we could steadily escalate our guerrilla war throughout the rest of the country. But without California we can't do it-and the System knows that. So what we must do-immediately-is to disperse a large number of nuclear weapons outside California. We will then detonate at least one of those weapons to convince the System that a new situation exists. If the System attacks California after that, we will be obligated to detonate all or most of our dispersed weapons, in an effort to destroy the System's capability for organized resistance. Unfortunately, much of the White population of the country is bound to be lost if we are forced to that extremity. The country will also be open to the danger of invasion by other nations. A grim prospect, indeed.

Reptile. Episode Six. Vigilante or criminal? For months and months, Buck Rouquin and his two accomplices had prepared for the break-in of the “Mercantile banking company”. This is it Hein, you study a plan in all of its details, and its execution is as smooth as velvet guys. Quiet! I think I heard something outside the window. You’re crazy, we’re on the tenth floor! Are you having a good look? Not even a cat, even down on the sidewalk. The bandits would have done better to look above them, because. Page Two: Hiss! Stupid people. They, hiss, have no idea, hiss, what awaits them! That's it! There's at least twenty thousand pounds! Quickly! We'll count that later! Eh? Who is it? Page Three: Kraits Ring hisses. Without, hiss, knowing it they were, hiss, working for Krait! I must hurry! In a moment or another the effects are going to manifest themselves! Fast! Ah! I, I, Transform myself! Ah! It was the next day that the young master assistant Mark Bowen showed up outside a remote house on the outskirts of London. Page Four: So young man, you will work with professor Andros Androphis? A great scholar! We rarely see that! One of the most illustrious biologists of our time, monsieur! He does me a great honor by choosing me as his assistant! An instant later. Bowen? Come in, my child. Oh! That's not how I saw it at all. Bonjour, monsieur. Come! I'll show you your room. What do you think of my home my child? A little, a, a little bit special sir. He is really very bizarre but that does not prevent him from being a great scientist. Page Five: Mark was relieved to find that his room was pretty normal. We will begin our work tomorrow, my boy. Right away, if you want, master. For this you need to know the places where you will work. In fact you will hardly move from here. It is admirably equipped, master. There is another lab here? No! It's a kind of closet where no one has set foot for years. He lies! The padlock looks like an object that is used often and it has fresh oil! Page Six: A little later. So, your impressions? It is fabulous master! I can’t wait to begin work! Do people not say that you make fabulous donations to charitable workers? They say so many things, my boy! So many things! That night Mark Bowen cannot sleep. Only three hours! Bother! I'm going to drink a glass of water! It might help me fall asleep. Hello! Looks like the teacher isn't sleeping either! Master, are you there? Page Seven: The closet! The door is open and. It's not a cubbyhole! A staircase that leads to. Oh! What is this! Hiss! Hiss! Help! Page Eight: Hiss! No! Hurgh! The young fool! Hiss! Young people always have to get involved in things that don't concern them! A little later. Ah! A horrible creature from a nightmare! Help me! My boy! My boy! What are you shouting like that? You woke me up! Oh? Master? Page Nine: I, I saw. The cave. A nightmare! Simply a nightmare my boy! Relax, my boy! I am going to prepare you a good strong coffee! No! It was very real! I still have a bruised throat. And the ring he wore on his finger. Exactly the same as the one worn by the, monster! What kind of mess am I getting into? Fortunately, Mark had the prudence to keep from him the discovery he had made. I made it very strong! It's daytime already. I think it is needless to go back to bed! See you soon, my boy! He plays his game well! So the great professor Androphis. Page Ten: Would keep a horrible monster with him, of which he would not talk about to anybody. God only knows for what obscure reason. Amazing! However. I have to get rid of it! But, for this moment it is too precious for me. Too precious! A little later. What a fascinating subject of study, that of the venoms of snakes! Is that not so, my boy? No one in the world knows more than you about this matter, master! It probably took you years to collect those we are studying at the moment? They are very rare indeed! In confidence, I can tell you that I am currently about to make an extraordinary discovery. But Mark Bowen can't take his eyes off the mysterious door, which is still carefully padlocked. Page Eleven: You are a great scholar, whose work I passionately admire, master. But tonight I will do everything possible to discover your secret! The next evening. The teacher didn't go to bed! I hear him in the hallway. Here he is in the dark! I think it is in my interest not to lose sight of him. He entered the laboratory. Oh! He is not here anymore. Hum! He drank something! So what? Page Twelve: Gah-ah-ah! This strange cry. Which freezes the bones. It comes from the cellar! The monster no doubt! A Person? And yet. Is there a secret passage somewhere? No! It doesn't ring hollow anywhere! There is a ventilation chimney. But no one can have used it to go out. Not the teacher. Nor the monstrous creature. Oh! Someone is moving over there! Page Thirteen: Hiss! This, hiss night the reptile will be manifest! Hiss! It progresses by fantastic leaps! It is not the teacher! It can only be the monster! A little later in an isolated farm. Nothing but used tickets! We will have no problem selling them! Ha-ha-ha! The cops never pull them out! We don't risk getting caught. Error! Huh! Who, who are you? I am reptile! Hiss! Few people know of me, but I will soon be famous throughout the universe! Page Fourteen: Yes Hiss! You did a good job for me. Your disguise does not impress me mister. And I'm going to make lots of holes in it. Hiss! Poor Fool! I have the speed of a cobra! Bang! Bang! It is not a human being! Bang, bang! I am a Reptile! I am all reptiles! Incredible! Hiss! Hiss! Argh! Page Fifteen: Hiss! We will soon see that no one can resist me! Argh! But then suddenly. Huh! The effects will cease sooner than expected! Eh! The teacher! He saw me! Oh, my boy! Do not be afraid! I mean you no harm! Master but what is this? My grand secret my boy! A new substance obtained by the distillation of various reptile poisons, the ingestion of which causes a momentary metamorphosis of my whole being. Page Sixteen: Vice Must Be punished, my boy. And the fruit of vice used for my good work, which will contribute to the enrichment of virtue! So it is. That you can make all these generous donations, which we talk about so much! We'll talk about all that tomorrow morning, my boy! At this moment, you are far too upset to calmly understand the problem! A little later. Unimaginable, yes! The professor is sort of like doctor Jekyll from Stevenson's novel, who turns into a human beast, Mister Hyde, at night. For good reasons, or for bad ones? Should I notify the police? No one will believe me. And then there is science, whose professor is one of its most glorious representatives. He wonders! Too bad he followed me last night! I will soon find out his intentions. Page Seventeen: If he has good intentions he will live! Otherwise. The day after, minus the nuclear war. No! No! His intentions cannot be good! Of course, he gives to charity what he collects from criminals. Attention! Here it is! My boy? Euh? Master. Your discovery fascinates me. And of course, the interest of science. Uh! But I can't keep this secret to myself! Page Eighteen: I need to let the police know. What a pity! It would have been nice to associate a young man with a future in my projects, but too bad. Hey! What are you doing there? Quite frankly I am sorry my boy. But my secrets must not be exposed in the public domain. Wow! La-la! Hiss! Help me! Come on nice python! Kill him, kill him! Page Nineteen: Ah! I'm lost! Unless. The snake's tail! Smash! You have let go! Take this now! Smash! Thug! Damnation! He got free! Yes! I freed myself and now I allow myself no doubt: you are an evil madman! And you, you are a fool! You are ignorant of the extent of my powers! Page Twenty: But, already mark was throwing himself headlong through the glass of the window. Crash! Shatter! The Potion! For all the powers of the invincible reptile are unleashed against him! The next moment. Why is this madman whistling like this? Oh! Hiss! Thousands of frogs who hasten to his call! They're in my way! Hold it, my delicious little friends, While I effect my metamorphosis! Page Twenty One: And let me become the invincible reptile! In one gulp the professor emptied the glass and. Huh! Blood freezes in the veins! My Force is growing! Growing, growing! I metamorphose! However! Oh Dirty Beasts! Ah! They take me hopping back to the house! Page Twenty Two: I have to get rid of them! Fire! If that doesn't work, I'm lost! Back! Go away! Curse him! He put my little friends on the run! But he won't escape reptile! Here he is! He catches me! Oh! But what worked so well with the frogs. Page Twenty Three: Can also work very well with him. Snek, snek. Ha-ha-ha! A curtain of flames between you and me, professor! I got you! No, poor fool! Don't you realize that I have the powers of all of the reptiles?! Even the legendary powers of the salamander. Hiss! The powers of the salamander? The salamander! Hiss! Yes, yes, that traverses the fire without running the slightest danger! Hiss! Yes, Yes! Page Twenty Four: No one can escape, Mark Bowen! I am lost, thought Mark. So luckily. Hey! Who's the idiot who set the brushwood on fire? I am saved! Yokels with pitchforks to the rescue! Let's get this over with! Damn them! They're too many! Listen to me well, Bowen! You are triumphing for the moment, but I will know how to find you again! And you will perish! Who are you? Did you see who set the fire? Yes! I did it! Page Twenty Five: Eh? You crazy? I will explain to you! Reptile was chasing me! A monster! Listen to me! It is professor Androphis, who turns into a monster. A helping hand to master this madman, guys! Whack! Thud! Perfect! Now let's take him to the village! When Mark came to. Whoa! What happened? It is you who are going to tell me, because for the moment you are being prosecuted for arson! Page Twenty Six: Listen to me! It is Professor Androphis. But the sergeant does not listen to the young man for long. What a shame! How can anyone say such horrible things about the professor! A great man who subsidizes all our charitable works! Hello Doctor Bighorn? I have a mental patient here! An arsonist! It would be good if you had him committed. However, news of Mark's arrest had already traveled the country. I must go and visit this young fool without delay! Page Twenty Seven: I swear, Sergeant that I told the truth! We will see about that when the doctor examines you! Tough luck, opportunity has knocked and left! I can't prevent the professor from continuing his evil activities! At night, as the snow begins to fall. I will calm him down, this young fool! Hey there! Its professor Androphis! Bonsoir Professor! Here is something to buy you some sweets, my children. Oh! You are too kind, Professor! Professor, do you know what? There is a guy at the station who's talking badly about you! Page Twenty Eight: An unfortunate imbalance, children. You have to forgive him. And that is what I'm going to tell him this instant! A moment later. Certainly! You can talk to him, professor! But don't get too close to him! He is dangerous! Sergeant! I repeat to you that it is he who is dangerous! Stay calm, you! I'm going away for a while, professor! Thankyou Sergeant! I will stand as far from the bars as is permissible! With the sergeant away, Mark found himself alone face to face with the terrible professor. Time to drink the potion! And you realize that you are safe from nothing behind these bars, you little fool! No! Page Twenty Nine: No! Huh! My blood freezes in my veins! My strength is growing, growing, growing! I transform! Yes! Yes! Hiss! I am hypnotizing you, you little fool! You are the prey of Reptile! You can't move! You will die from the poison in my ring. I, I am, I am paralyzed! And everyone will think that you died of heart failure! Hiss! Page Thirty: But then. Professor! We’re finished with the lollipops! Can you give us more? So! Hiss! Hiss! You are at my mercy! Hiss! I aim! Now time to press a tiny button and. Teacher! Give us enough to buy lollipops and. We will sing you a nice song! Hiss! Page Thirty One: He looks away! I am no longer in his power thought Mark. Whack! Thud! You will pay for that, you little fool! Assassin! Help! Oh! Out of my way horrible little fools! Page Thirty Two: Don't stand there! Run for the sergeant, children! Immediately sir! The moment after. What are you kids talking about? Like we said, Sergeant! A horrible two legged reptile! You must believe me now! The children have seen it, as I have seen it! Impossible! The professor is a great philanthropist! A benefactor to humanity! It was the teacher, yes, sergeant! The two-legged reptile even had the same ring as him! Gah! If I tell this to my boss, He is quite capable of having me locked up with you! You must, Sergeant! Quickly! Page Thirty Three: It was not easy. Hey! Are you crazy, sergeant!? You know me well, Lieutenant! I don't tell jokes! It's the truth! What's going on John? A crazy thing! Finish dinner, without me! But we are not in Finland? This translation is crazy, crazy I tell you! And thus, in the end. I hope you are not telling lies! Because I know how to make you regret it! I swear to you lieutenant! Besides, in your place, I would have your men carry their arms! A little after. A hunting, we will go, a hunting we will go! I say Capital sport what! Eyes front! March! Page Thirty Four: During this time. My blood is heating up in my veins! It forces me to grow! I am de-metamorphosing! Cursed Bowen! He destroyed everything! I must disappear! The potion! Lots of potions! Without it I am nothing! But I have not said my last word! A little later. Are we to go in? Stop! I have to follow the rules! Professor Androphis! Police! Please open the door to me! You are kidding lieutenant! You are not dealing with some pickpocket! Page Thirty Five: There is a light up there! Burning in the fireplace! There is a light, in the darkness of everybody’s life! Can we take a look out the window? I will do it, I who know the house well! Nobody around, and the window can be pushed open! I can enter! I will quickly open the house to the police, thought Mark. Come quickly! He must be in his laboratory! That is what I thought! They will follow me step by step. Page Thirty Six: Everything is demolished here! He went through it all! Crash! Adieu Bowen! Hiss! Hiss! Fast! Quickly! Following Mark, the police rush into the basement and. Eh? What is this? I said goodbye. To all of you too! Hiss, hiss! Ha-ha-ha-ha! Hey? But? Another gate has closed behind us! Thang! Page Thirty Seven: Ha-ha-ha-ha! Now let us have a good laugh you fools. For I will send you charming companions. Skur! A passage is open over there! Hiss! Hiss! Hiss! Too bad for you. You will not live long enough to see how famous I'll be anytime soon. Ha-ha-ha! Page Thirty Eight: I will even the odds with a gunshot! No! The pellets would ricochet from all the walls and we would be injured! Mister! You were his assistant! You must know how to deal with these horrible beasts! Exactly! You and your men must all whistle together something very sad, all at the same time! Yes! Do what I tell you! Let’s go! "The swallow of the suburbs" for example. Or “Famous Italian Battles”. Ah, we're going to charm them, like the Indian trainers! Got it. And meanwhile, what will you do? Exactly! What did Mark Bowen propose to do? And what new crimes will Reptile still commit? Don't miss the next episode in Sunny Sun! That will appear at the beginning of March!

Rahan. Episode eight. The long claw. The young chimpanzee missed none of the savage fight that pitted his lifelong enemy, "Baha-le-puma" against "the man-with-the-long-claw". Greek! Greek! This man was Rahan. And the “long claw” was an ivory knife with which he struck the side of the beast. The puma finally sagged with a hoarse growl and the triumphant clamor of the son of fierce ages thundered through the jungle. Ra-ha-ha! Page Two: Rahan saw the monkey. Baha will not be devouring you, four-hands! Ha-ha!-ha! You thank Rahan! Greek! Greek! Rahan called "Four-Hands" these nimble beings who were part of the "Those-who-run-in-the-trees" horde. This one gave a few joyful cries and disappeared in the foliage. "Those-who-run-in-the-trees" look like "those-who-walk-upright", thought Rahan. What a pity they don't speak! Exhausted by the long run that had preceded this fight, he hoisted himself up on a branch and dozed off. Although he was an extremely light sleeper, he did not hear the rustling of the vines above him. Page Three: When a rustle woke him, his hand flew to the branch where he had stuck his knife. Oh! It had disappeared! Without his knife, Rahan cannot fight! Lurking on a nearby branch the female of "Baha" was watching him! Screams suddenly drowned out the growl of the beast that was about to pounce. Four hands! Oh! Greek! Greek! The monkey was swinging from the end of a vine. And it clutched the ivory knife! The flying blade delivered a mortal blow to the puma, and it tumbled into the void. "Four-hands stole Rahan's knife!! "Four-hands" must give it back to him! The monkey grimaced and gesticulated happily. Proud of his achievement. Greek! Greek! Page Four: But seemed reluctant to return the long claw. You wanted to imitate Rahan and you saved him. Rahan thanks you but you have to give him that knife, "Four Hands". Don't run away! Come back! Come back! Rahan doesn't have four hands like you! He can't chase you! With the astonishing agility of his kind the monkey flew from tree to tree. Greek! Greek! Taunting the man one last time he pirouetted on a branch and disappeared into his realm of greenery. "Four-hands” is not fair! It will take moons and moons for Rahan to polish such a strong, sharp knife! Rahan felt distraught. Page Five: Since his adolescence this cutlass was his only asset. In those savage times when it was necessary to kill in order not to be killed, this knife had allowed him to survive. Rahan will find "Four Hands" The son of Crao dominated the ocean of foliage from the top of the great tree. Where was "Four Hands"? "Those-who-run-in-the-trees" live in clans, thought Rahan. "Four-hands" probably took the knife to his people! Indeed, a few arrow flights away, the chimpanzee showed off the "long claw" he had stolen from the man. Greek! Greek! Grodeek! Greek! He mimicked Rahan's gestures in front of his clan and they marveled. Page Six: However. Rahan would have already found any other opponent! But "Those-who-run-In-the-Trees" Leave no traces behind them! Where was "Four Hands"? Enraged Rahan was about to abandon this strange world of foliage and vines when. Oh! A very young monkey harassed a porcupine. The little "Four-Hands" will lead me to his clan! Engaged in his game, the little chimpanzee did not notice the shrub which approached him. Greek! Greek! He didn't have time to dodge the man. Rahan who knew how to be as silent as the serpent, could also be quicker than the panther. Ra-ha-ha! Ha-ha! Greek! Page Seven: A moment later a thin vine entrapped young monkey. When daylight returns, the little "Four Hands" will lead Rahan to his brothers! The son of Crao fell asleep as usual in a fork of branches, and left his curious captive attached to the roots of the tree. His cries of terror roused him from his sleep. A huge reptile crawled towards the young monkey who could not escape it. If the little "Four-hands" dies it will be Rahan's fault! But he will not die! Ra-ha-ha! Rahan's bellow echoed through the night as he dove towards the snake. Page Eight: Rahan only knows one way to kill the "demon-of-the-tall-grass". Break its skull! Rahan twirled, and twirled. And the head of the reptile whipped the tree with such force that the bark burst. The chimpanzee was stamping its feet with joy as the rings of the dead monster slowly unraveled. What do you want? Do you also thank Rahan?! The young monkeys hand patted the man’s shoulder. Greek! Greek! Oh Rahan Understand! You want to be taken to your own! Page Nine: Shortly after, in the dawn light, Rahan followed his guide on the perilous trail of branches. He had freed the chimpanzee and it was not trying to run away. He was swinging from tree to tree. And waits for the man to join him there before continuing on his way. And suddenly Rahan heard the cries of the clan. He saw the masses of monkeys on a big tree. Where is "Four Hands"? Greek! Greek! Flying from vine to vine the young chimpanzee was already rejoining his family. Page Ten: Rahan means no harm to the Tree People. Rahan is simply coming to get his knife that one of yours stole from him! The son of Crao grabs a long vine to swing to the monkeys. But a danger he didn't know hovered over him. Zlac! No sooner had he launched into the void than the "long claw" swooped down! The vine parted, and he fell to the ground. And, The monkeys tumbled from the branches, and rushed towards the stunned man. Page Eleven: Rahan, who was only stunned, felt the multitude of fingers that poked at his body. But he did not see the clan leader snatch the "Long claw" from "Four-hands". Greek! Greek! The Monkey was about to plunge the ivory blade into his chest when. Greek! The young chimpanzee intervened, clinging to the leader's arm. The leader threw him back roughly. And lifted the knife again! But this brief respite allowed Rahan to recover his senses. He glimpsed the ivory blade. Page Twelve: Grah! His legs suddenly coiled and his feet struck the hairy chest. The vine he still hugged hissed like a whip, disarming the leader of the clan. Zlac! But Rahan did not have time to jump towards the knife falling on the ground. "Four-Hands" had seized it all over again. And disappeared in the thickets with the "long claw", so precious and coveted. The monkeys grimaced and jumped around their still gasping leader. They showed no hostility towards "the-one-walking-upright". Which was already pursuing "Four-Hands". Page Thirteen: Rahan will never catch "the-four-handed-knife-thief!" At that moment the Son of Ages forgot that he himself had stolen the ivory weapon from his Lake Clan enemies once. "Four-Hands" must have been more playful and facetious than bad because he sometimes appeared on a low branch. Greek! Greek! Taunting his pursuer. You will not defy Rahan forever "Four-Hands"! Greek! Rahan rushed forward and the monkey disappeared only to reappear in the foliage. Behind him! Page Fourteen: This pursuit must have delighted him because his cries occasionally evoked the laughter of “Those-who-walk-standing”! Hi-hi! Greek! Since Rahan can't reach you, he will trap you! The son of Crao knew how much "Those-who-run-in-the-trees" were fond of certain fruits. He placed these at the foot of a large dead tree, but also prepared something else nearby. That intrigued “Four Hands” a great deal, as he observed from the high branches. Page Fifteen: The monkey hesitated for a long time, but his greed prevailed. On the lookout in the bushes, Rahan, saw him approach the bait. Rahan knows how to catch fish. But he has never fished for "Those-who-run-in-the-trees" yet! Ha-ha-ha! Rahan was laughing to himself. When "Four-Hands" grabbed a fruit, he pulled sharply on the long vine. Slip. And the trapped monkey felt lifted from the ground, entwined. You are at the mercy of Rahan "Four-Hands!" Ha-ha-ha! You will have to give him back his knife!! Oh! Suddenly anxious, Rahan lunges! Page Sixteen: But it was too late. The angry and furious monkey had slipped the "long claw" into a hole in an enormous hollow tree! "Four-Hands" is stupid! Neither he nor Rahan will be able to take back the knife! To recover the weapon it would have been necessary to uproot the tree! Go! Go find the people of the trees! Rahan thinks that you are too stupid to take vengeance upon! And Rahan will have to defend his life! The son of fierce ages pointed to the horned monster that sprang from the thickets. As the monkey jumped into the lower branches, the rhinoceros charged at Rahan. Page Seventeen: Who narrowly evaded it! "Four-Hands" exulted at the man's feint. Greek! It is a good time to be on my side, "Four-Hands"! If you had not acted so stupidly, Rahan could face the "Taroak"! Oh! Rahan's face suddenly lit up, and the amazed monkey saw him jump from the branch. And rush to meet the rhinoceros! Rahan does not fear you, “Taroak”! The monstrous head swayed from left to right and the “Taroak” charged the man again. Page Eighteen: Rahan should have made abrupt and sudden swerves to shake off this formidable, but not very agile opponent. But he was content to run straight ahead, the huge horned monster hot on his heels! Ha-ha-ha! Run faster “Taroak”! Run Faster! Rahan rushed towards the dead tree, as if to take refuge there. But his goal was quite different. Two steps from the hollow trunk he threw himself aside. The flank of the running rhino brushed against him. And. Vrang! Crack! Page Nineteen: Rahan's cry of victory mingled with the cracking of the dead tree. Ra-ha-ha! Crack! At the base of the hollow trunk the ivory knife appeared, towards which the son of Crao leapt. “Four-Hands” maintained silence in his refuge. What was happening before his eyes amazed him. "He who walks upright" had leapt on the spine of the "Taroak" and, clinging to its horns, struck, and struck, and struck. He suddenly abandoned his monstrous mount which continued its course. To go on and collapse at the end of the clearing. Page Twenty: Rah-ha-ha! The fierce and triumphant clamor of the son of Crao thundered once more over the jungle. You are not coming to steal Rahan's knife here, "Four-Hands"! The monkey watched the man slide the "long claw" into its sheath. No doubt he felt sorry for being deprived of the marvelous weapon, but he no longer had any desire to challenge this being who knew everything, who could do everything! Farewell "Four-Hands", return to the people of the trees. Rahan, he is going to find his brothers, "Those-who-walk-upright"! The strangeness of this story should not be surprising. Because this happened thousands of years ago in those savage times when man and ape could fight over a single knife all day.

Rahan. Episode Seven. The country with the white skin. Rahan regained hope. He would probably find on this unknown shore a cave to protect himself from the cold which, for many days had bruised his whole body. Rahan should never have abandoned the lands of the sun! The son of Crao had never known this terrible feeling in the face of the currents prevailing over the "great lake". The perpetual bite of the wind gnawed at his face, his back and his chest. "Those-who-walk-upright" need sun! How could they live in a land where the air is colder than mountain torrents? Page Two: Rahan had only known the mild winters of the blue mountain and the idea had never occurred to him that the cold could slash the skin like a cutlass. Rah! So he howled with pleasure when he discovered the entrance to a cave. Rahan will make fire! Rahan will no longer feel his ears, and his fingers will become nimble again! He rushed into the shadows and suddenly stopped. The bear growling at the bottom of the cave was the biggest he had ever faced. Rahan knows there is no place here for you and me! So it will be you or me! The ivory knife flew away. And slipped on the thick coat. His numb fingers had betrayed Rahan! The knife was now lying behind the bear! Page Three: The animal approached growling and. Ra-ha-ha! This feint had often saved Rahan. Once again it surprised the enemy who turned heavily, too late. Rahan had already recovered his weapon. And the son of fierce ages struck, struck at that place of the underside which he knew by experience that life was born. Ra-ha-ha! This quick fight had knocked out the cold. But night was coming and he felt its terrible bite again. There is no wood in the den of the “Baloua”! Rahan cannot start a fire! As the cold became unbearable he snuggled up against the corpse of the bear. Tomorrow Rahan will burn the wood of his Raft! Page Four: He fell asleep against the still warm side of the beast, dreaming of the sun that had disappeared for so many days. It was daylight when he returned to the lake. His amazement was so great that he forgot the breeze that whipped at his shoulders. Oh! The strangest spectacle presented itself to him. The water of the lake had disappeared to make way for a smooth white desert! The “White thing” has captured Rahan's raft! His skiff, indeed, was sealed in that "thing" which Rahan did not know was a slab of ice. Rahan will free his raft! Hesitating, he ventured on this translucent ground. It was colder than the blue mountain springs in winter. He took a small step. And another. Page Five: He slipped suddenly, and his knife of ivory escaped him. What followed was beyond his comprehension. The cutlass that should have fallen near him was moving away, further, then further. It stopped at last, more than thirty paces away! Rahan has never seen his knife move on its own! Warned by his first fall, Rahan became cautious. It was on all fours, and very slowly that he crawled towards his precious knife. This desert is the proof that this territory is not made for "Those who walk upright". The son of Crao had just recovered his weapon. Page Six: When the ground suddenly cracks beneath him, like the earth in summer. There was a crack and. Ah! The translucent crust slipped away from under him and the icy vice of the black waters closed on his hips. The water! The water is under the white "Thing"! Rahan understands! When it's cold, the big lake protects itself with a "white skin"! He had to use his knife to regain his footing on the ice. A moment later he had reached his raft, but his efforts to free it were in vain. And he had to content himself with the logs that had been spared from the ice, which he hoisted up the small hill. Page Seven: He was almost happy when he returned to the cave, carrying one of these logs. Rahan will build another raft later. What Rahan wants today is a fire! He had not crossed the threshold of the cave when surprise made him drop his bundle. Oh! The “Baloua”! The bear's corpse was still lying in the dark, but the beast had been skinned. Only "Those-who-walk-upright" can do this! But why? Why steal a bit of "Baloua" and abandon his body? Rahan was perplexed. Do the hunters of this country prefer the fleece of the "Baloua" to its flesh? As the icy wind rushed through the cave. Page Eight: He rolled some rocks in front of the entrance as those of his horde used to do on stormy days. Protected by this rampart he managed to light a fire. Luckily Rahan knows how to use the “Stones-that-throw-sparks”. Rahan has learned many, many things. He knows how to float on water. He knows how to throw his knife and make fish traps. And yet Rahan feels like he knows nothing. To know nothing! Every day he discovers a new mystery. Oh! Rahan jumped. The "unknown" presented itself unambiguously to him, in the form of tiny white flies that flitted around the cave. He caught one in flight. Page Nine: And the fly disappeared, leaving a droplet of water in the palm of his hand! It is a white rain! As the swarms of flies swirling in the dark sky seemed harmless Rahan dozed by the fire. When he awoke the entrance to the cave let in a strange light in which the very vault of the cavern was reflected. He rushed outside. And he thought he was losing his mind. The landscape he discovered was fantastic. The lake-with-white-skin! The white-skinned hills! The white-skinned trees! As far as he could see, everything was dazzlingly white. The soil like the rocks, the hills like the forest. Rahan has discovered the "Country-with-white-skin"! Page Ten: The son of Crao was seized by wonder, and he went a moment later, from surprise to surprise. Oh! The white skin is soft! He ran happily through the snow, stopping to shake a branch and cause snow to flutter. Ah! Ha-ha! The cave had disappeared behind the white thickets, and he suddenly stopped, confused. The one who stole the skin of the ”Baloua” came here! The traces were indeed those of "Those-who-walk-upright". With his hand on his knife, Rahan went up this track. Rahan wants to know why he stole the skin. Page Eleven: In the padded silence, the snow crunched gently under his feet, and he saw the entrance to a cave. And his grand laugh suddenly thundered, rolling onto the great lake. Ha-ha-ha-ha! Rahan is stupid! Rahan has followed himself! He had just understood that these traces which came from the cave could only be his. Rahan went around in circles and he retraced his steps! Ha-ha-ha! He let himself fall on the soft ground, joyfully handling the snow. Oh! The white thing takes shapes when Rahan presses it, cups it. A vision came back to his memory. That of the "clan of the red lands", who knew how to create objects with a dough pulled from the ground. Page Twelve: A moment later he modeled a figurine of snow, as he had seen in certain hordes. The "Mother of Mothers" will protect Rahan in sleep! The sky darkened and Rahan had to quench his fire. Rahan has never known a stranger land than the "White-Skinned-Land". He fell asleep contemplating the "Mother of Mothers" standing on her stone pedestal. Three things woke him up at the same time. The day, the cold, and the noise rising outside the cave. The fire went out during the night and the cold was unbearable. It is a beast that made that noise! Another “Baloua” looking for a den? Page Thirteen: Apprehending the intrusion of a new bear, Rahan rushed towards the rock where he had left his knife. Ah! The "Mother of mothers" had disappeared and the ivory cutlass, at the apex of the rock, was imprisoned in a block of ice. Rahan could not have known that the statuette of snow, while melting had filled the stone basin with water, and that this water covering the weapon had frozen! He almost screamed in amazement. It was not a "Baloua" crawling towards the ashes of the fire, but a man like him! A man dressed in a bearskin! Page Fourteen: Rahan recognizes this skin! So that's what the men of the white-skinned country do with “Baloua” skins! Rahan had not comprehended why the man had seized an extinguished ember from the ashes and fled. Like many of "Those-who-walk-upright" he does not know how to produce fire and he venerates it! Rahan will reveal to you the secret of the fire if you give him back the skin of the “Baloua”! But the fugitive was already too far away to hear Rahan. He ran in the snow with an ease that made the son of Crao see him disappear behind a hill. It was Rahan who killed the "Baloua"! The skin belongs to him! Page Fifteen: Rahan was warm when he fell asleep against the "Baloua"! Rahan should have thought of cutting the skin to protect himself from the cold! But Rahan didn't think about it! Rahan is a fool! The men of the "White-skinned country" know things that he does not know! He had rushed towards the hill, following in the footsteps of the man. He had noticed the weapon of this man. Rahan will possess the skin of the "Baloua", even without his knife. He had just climbed onto the white ridge, but the fugitive was already far away on the frozen lake. The bindings that wrap his feet prevent him from slipping! Rahan will never be able to catch up to him! Oh! Page Sixteen: Rahan saw the trunks he had abandoned the day before on the hill. An idea came to him. Since Rahan's knife has slipped on the skin of the great lake, these logs will slide there too! Ra-ha-ha! An instant later, He pushed the logs down the snowy slope and jumped on this fragment of a raft. Digging a furrow the trunks slid faster and faster on the slope towards the lake. Ha-ha-ha! Rahan goes faster than a bird! Ha-ha! Ra-ha-ha! Schiff! The son of Crao laughed in the foam of snow that froze his face. Page Seventeen: Changing the course of his "luge" with his hands and feet, he swooped straight down to the lake. The white crust will perhaps break under the trunks as it cracked under Rahan!? But Rahan's worry dissipated as soon as his improvised sled hit the ice. The ice resisted. At a mad pace the “luge” slid towards the fleeing man. The naked man is a demon! Ra-ha-ha! You will return the property of Rahan! He did not have time to jump aside. He was mown down by the motion of the raft. Page Eighteen: The two men rolled on the ice. Rahan's adversary clutched a large bone cutlass. But he did not have time to pick it up. Ah! The fluttering cutlass whirled in the distance and came to rest in one of the immobilized logs. Klong! And Rahan slipped, and lost his equilibrium, and came to rest in front of his onrushing adversary! A strange melee commenced, with the two intertwined men of equal strength. But the ice made the fight difficult. Page Nineteen: They rose to fall down again, either together or one after the other. Ha-ha-ha! "The naked man" has very soft legs! Strong enough to do this! Vloop! Argh! Ha-ha-ha! Ha-ha-ha! Their laughter merges. They understood the stupidity of this impossible fight. If you want to know the secret of fire, give Rahan the skin of the "Baloua". My horde has always hoped to know this secret. Here Rahan! Take! Trahar can quickly find another fur! Trahar whose gaze was shining with joy, abandoned the warm fur. Page Twenty: Soon after Rahan was teaching him how to rub the "star-throwing-stones". So Rahan knows everything! Would Rahan be a god? No, Trahar! He didn't know how to protect himself from the cold like yours know! How did he not know this! As he brought the torch to the stone bowl, the ice melted, releasing the ivory knife. Rahan has learned many things in the "White-skinned country". But he doesn't like this country! The son of Crao still learned many things from Trahar's horde and he taught them many things. But the thick fur pleased him and he was in a hurry to find the sun. That is why one morning, when the "Flies" of snow were flying, he left without regret this country where "Those-who-walk-standing" looked like "Balouas".

Rahan. Episode six. The Mammoth God. Rahan could have swum. But he preferred for his own amusement to cross the river on this tree that had been uprooted by lightning. The sun has risen as many times as the fingers of the hand, and Rahan has not met any man! No man. Destiny would decide otherwise. “Those who walk upright”, are they afraid to live here? The trees are big and beautiful! Game must be plentiful. Barely had the son of Crao had this thought, that. Over there! The man with the “tail-of-the-panther” violates mammoth territory! He must die! Page Two: Rahan heard the clamors of the clan and glimpsed the flint axes. The son of fierce ages, he was used to this inhospitality. Death to the “Tail-of-a-panther”! Death! Death! Death! In these savage times, anything strange to the clan was the enemy! Rahan tries to flee. The tail of the beast which he had made into a sheath floats at his hip. Rahan does not know this forest! He will not escape these hunters! Front, back, and to the side. Silhouettes jump in the thicket. But Rahan does not succumb without a fight! And the branches of this tree allow him to isolate his enemies! With the agility of a monkey he clung to the low branches. Page Three: And rose rapidly through the thick foliage of the great tree. “Tail-of-the-panther” cannot escape us! Some of the hunters are already hoisting themselves up the tree. The most nimble ahead of the others. Just as Rahan wished! Because it was easy for him to fight isolated enemies! Ah! He had thrown two of these into the void when. Ha-ha-ha! I have you “Tail-of-the-panther” Suddenly gripping the long panther tail, a hunter tried to unbalance him. But Rahan’s legs were wrapped around the tree. Page Four: And the man, slipping from his perch, remained suspended in the air. We will both fall! You will die with me "Tail-of-the-panther”! No! With a quick gesture, Rahan sliced the long sheath in two. Zlac! The crash of the broken branches accompanied the howl of the man who fell towards the ground! Argh! Ah! But Rahan had not sheathed his ivory knife, when a hand gripped his ankle. Which pitched him in turn, into the void! He hit one branch, and then another, and instinctively he tried to cushion his fall by clinging to vines. Page Five: Stunned by the successive shocks he disappeared under the green waters of the river. Vlouf! And he immediately recovered all his spirits. The hunters do not know how to swim! Rahan is saved! But Rahan has lost his Knife! Furious, the clan observed Rahan, who had just gained the other side of the river. A hunter brandished the knife that he had just found. The weapon of the “tail-of-the-panther” is very strange. They admired the polish of the handle, and appreciated the sharpness of the blade. We must bring this weapon back to Tarook. It now belongs to the clan leader! Rahan watched the hunters disappear. Rahan cannot live without his knife! He must take it back from these men! He must! Page Six: The ivory knife was unique to the son of Crao. The most prized of his possessions. He gazed gravely at the empty sheath. Rahan shall recover you, knife! You will return to your place. And later. No sound. No voices. The hunters must fear the darkness as Rahan once did. Oh! A strange spectacle suddenly petrified him. In the middle of the clearing on a high flat rock was a mammoth skull. At the bottom of the clearing a cave could be discerned. Rahan was not wrong. The clan fear the night! They will stay on the territory of the cavern until daylight. The soil around the rock was littered with objects. Shell necklaces, glittering stones. “Those who walk upright” act like this when they worship a god. Page Seven: Rahan had known hordes that worshipped the sun-god or the river-god. Others, like that of the forests, devoting themselves to the oak god. Rahan wondered if these hunters worship the mammoth god. The ivory of the immense curved tusks shone in the moonlight. Rahan does not believe in the power of these gods! But he knows that those who worship them are always obedient! An idea seized Rahan. He could not confront these men, whose number he did not know. But Rahan knows how to get them out of their lair! A moment later in the cavern. Listen to that voice Tarook! The god speaks! All of you listen! Mamazak Speaks! Page Eight: Overcoming their fear, the men came out of the cave one by one. Surrounded by a strange halo of fire, the mammoth god spoke. Men of the clan stay away from me! I will speak only with the chief! The hunters shivered in their trepidation. Mamazak calls you Tarook! Go Tarook Go! You must obey the god! Anxiously Tarook walked towards the god. Hidden behind the rock altar, Rahan recognized his knife in the chief's belt. He threw another tuft of grass on the fire he had lit and the flames seemed to shoot from the skull. Here I am Mamazak. Why do you blaze like the sun? Because my anger is great against you Tarook! They have stolen a weapon from a hunter I protect! And I see you carrying that weapon Tarook! Page Nine: Lay that weapon down in front of me Tarook, And my anger may cease! I will forgive the fault of your hunters! Worried, the chief of the clan clasps the knife. Mine did not know that you were protecting panther tail, we beg your forgiveness Mamazak. And gravely he laid it in the midst of the offerings. I forgive you! Retreat to your cave! Argh! As Tarook retreated towards his people, an ember burst forth. And it wrung a cry of pain from Rahan! It was not you that shouted like that Mamazak! It was a man! Rahan has betrayed himself! He cannot deceive anymore! Tarook rushed at the knife, but Rahan moved more rapidly. Yes! I am a man! I am Rahan! Son of Crao! Page Ten: The ruse failed, and combat became inevitable. A terribly uneven combat. Rahan suddenly hoisted himself onto the rock. Kill Rahan! Kill! Then on the very skull of the mammoth. Rahan is not afraid of you! Look! Rahan challenges your god! The clansmen hesitated. They brandished their axes without daring to throw them, doubtless fearing to touch the "Mammoth God". Certain, more audacious men nevertheless approached. If Rahan can climb on Mamazak without provoking his anger, we can too! They suddenly attacked head-on, leaping towards the rock-altar dominated by gigantic tusks. Kill Rahan! Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill! Page Eleven: But these giant tusks suddenly oscillate above them! Rahan is lost! But he will not die alone! Bracing himself against the skull, Rahan pushed it over on his assailants. The screams of the crushed men merge with the cracking of the monstrous skull that breaks in two at the foot of the rock altar. Crash! Then, fear and anger give way to hatred. Such profanation should be cruelly punished!! But Rahan had already jumped from the rock. And disappeared into the darkness. They do not chase Rahan into the night! But from daybreak, they will begin the chase! Page Twelve: He ran straight ahead for a long time, in the high ferns that lashed at his chest. Formerly Rahan would also have landed in a hole. But Rahan is no longer afraid of the night! The night and the moon are the companions of Rahan! In fact the moon lit up his mad race. It was in its pale light that suddenly appeared an immense abyss. Oh! The gorge was wide and deep. Its steep walls prohibited any descent into its depths. Only a bird could pass to the other side. But Rahan is no bird. Rahan walked along the impassable ravine for a long time. But it seemed to be without end. Page Thirteen: No! Rahan can't turn back! Sooner or later he will encounter Tarook and his Hunters! The bottomless gorge meandered to infinity. Rahan knows how to cross rivers, but this he does not know! Ooh! The River! A vision comes back to him. He sees himself again crossing the river, that very morning, on the tree uprooted by lightning. And his imaginative mind as always made an association of ideas. If a tree fell on the ravine, as on the river, then Rahan would overcome the obstacle! Can Rahan not strike down one of these like lightning? His heart beating, he observed the tops of the nearby trees. Page Fourteen: This one is high thought Rahan. Its top would fall on the other side of the ravine. But how can Rahan make a tree so high fall? Ah! Rahan knows! An instant later, he clawed the ground with his knife, at the foot of the tree on the opposite side to the precipice. Scrape! Scrape! It was a long and exhausting job. He released some roots here. He sliced some others there. The day is coming! Tarook and his clan are going on the hunt! The darkness was dissipating and he was redoubtable with ardor. They will find the traces of Rahan! Rahan must succeed before they arrive. Sometimes he would test the resistance of the tree. And then he would again vigorously attack the other roots. Page Fifteen: It was not until daybreak that the tree finally swayed under his exertions. It will fall soon! But if it falls into the abyss, Rahan’s idea will have been useless! Crack! Roots suddenly cracked, others like snakes, were torn from the ground! The tree finally crumbled towards the gorge and Rahan tried to guide its fall. Vrang! Ra-ha-ha! The long cry of victory echoed the crash of the peak falling on the other side of the ravine. Shouts arose and came closer. Ha-ha-ha! The hunters of Tarook have found the trail of Rahan. But they will not meet him again!! Page Sixteen: The narrow and curiously leafy “bridge” now allowed him to cross the gorge. The pack appeared. Death to Rahan! Death for Sacrilege! Rahan suddenly crouched down and avoided a violently thrown axe. Beneath him was the vertigo of the abyss. He slipped, and barely caught himself on a branch. Courage Rahan! As soon as you are on the other side, you will push the tree into the ravine! Tarook stimulated his men, who were hesitant to take risks following the fugitive. Will you let the profaner of Mamazak escape?! Cowards! There is a way to avenge Mamazak! I swear to you that Rahan will not arrive on the other side Tarook! The hunter grinned cruelly. Page Seventeen: Rahan no longer dared to look beneath him. His gaze did not shift from the cliff face, separated from him by ten paces. Another eight steps. Seven steps. In a moment he would be safe. Six. Five. Four. Ha-ha-ha! Rahan is saved, he thought to himself. Oh! While he was about to reach the goal, the "bridge" had moved! The "Point" had retreated! Rahan was confused. The cliff that he had almost touched was now receding from him. Turning his head, Rahan quickly understood. Oh! Tarook and his hunters were gripping the roots and were dragging the “bridge” back to them! Page Eighteen: There was a jolt and the end of the bridge lost its support. And Rahan was almost pitched into the abyss. Rahan is Lost! The burden was horribly heavy, but Tarook’s clan redoubled their efforts. The tree was slipping, slowly slipping! And its peak moved inexorably away from the cliff. Rahan must jump! He may fall into the abyss, but the hunters would kill him anyway! Under the pulls of the clan, the "Bridge" always retreated. Rahan retraced his path. Ha-ha-ha! Rahan is scared! Rahan returns to surrender! Oh! To gain momentum. And, after having suddenly turned around, the son of Crao ran towards the summit. Page Nineteen: It bends under his weight like a springboard. Rahan’s legs relaxed as it straightens up… In a flash he seemed to fly in the void above the abyss, towards the cliff. His fingers twitch on the edge of the rock, and he remained pinned to the wall. Panting and observing without believing his eyes that he had triumphed over the abyss. On the other side of the chasm the hunters furiously threw their flint axes. But Rahan, who climbed the cliff no longer had anything to fear from these projectiles. Page Twenty: Ra-ha-ha! His mocking and victorious cry was taken up by all the echoes of the gorge and rolled up to the rising sun which had set the horizon on fire. To challenge "Mamazak" and to accomplish such a feat, one must oneself be a god! Rahan is a god who took on a human appearance!! Mischievous Rahan saw the hunters fall back into the forest. No he was not a god! Undoubtedly a little more evolved than those of his species, and more daring too. But he was only a man! He verifies his knife, his only possession, is still in his sheath, and sets off again. This son of the fierce age went once more to meet the unknown. Encountering all the mysteries, all the dangers that hovered in those savage times, over the great horde of "Those-who-Walk-Upright".

(With sincere apologies for the previous incorrect upload) Rahan. Episode Five. The Liquid Tomb. Rahan is not afraid of you! He knows that the sun will chase the fires from the sky! The storm had lasted since the day before. And if Rahan is merely defiant of the lightning, he hates this torrential rain which has swollen all the streams of the forest. He hates the flashes of fire that streak through the sky. So he growled with joy when he finally made out a cave. He was rushing towards this refuge that he had been hoping for since dawn. When his ankle got caught in a vine. At the same moment, the ground opened up under him. Ah! Page two: He hit a wall violently and felt a pain in his thigh. Then he came to rest suspended above sharp stakes that pointed to the sky. A trap! If That Vine had not held Rahan back, he would be impaled like a beast! The cut in his thigh seemed to him insignificant, but its cause irritated him. This is not the first time that Rahan has injured himself with his knife. One day Rahan will open his stomach to this blade! He will die without even having faced an enemy! The precious ivory knife had already caused him a lot of trouble. And the idea had never occurred to the son of Crao to protect himself from this weapon, which he wore naked on his belt. Page Three: But that day. Rahan has found it! Rahan will no longer have to fear his cutlass! Shortly after, a curious bamboo case beating at his thigh, he resumed his race towards the cave. The trap proves that men live here, thought Rahan. The cave was high and so deep it seemed endless. Although Rahan could not distinguish anything his sense of smell detected a human presence. He made himself quieter than a feline, when. Clong! The bamboo case bumped into a rock! Betrayed by the noise, he had only time to throw himself back. The spear hummed in his ears. Chiplaf! Page Four: As he retreated, a second, and then a third spear fell at his heels. "Those-who-walk upright" do not want to share the refuge with Rahan! The rain did not stop, and all around him the streams squirmed on like serpents. Ah! You too would like to take refuge in the cave, “Baghae” Hiding in a puddle the Black Panther was about to pounce on the man. It was repugnant to Rahan to face the beast in this morass. He made a pass behind and another. And lost his balance, falling back into the trap of which he had forgotten! The dreadful vision of the spikes engulfed is spirit. Ah! Rahan is lost! But he was neither shredded nor disemboweled because the torrents of water had filled the pit. The god of rain is with Rahan. Page Five: When he climbed out of the trap the great cat was still watching him. Since you demand it Rahan will fight! Pull out your claws, Baghae! Rahan pulls out his! The knife of ivory sprang from the scabbard as the son of the ferocious age plunged. The man and the beast rolled in the mud. The gasps of one mingled with the growls of the other. Twice the ivory blade disappeared and emerged red from the black skin! Rahan, once again, had won! Ra-ha-ha! He straightened up and his cry of triumph resounded for a long time in the turmoil. Page Six: He tore off the feline's tail and hung this trophy on his belt, as the hunters of his clan once did. Then, throwing the remains of the beast on his shoulders, he headed for the cave. Rahan returns, men! Perhaps you will welcome him happily with this offering! It was again a mysterious twilight, but he glimpsed a silhouette and a brandished spear. Bak! Arakak! He turned suddenly, offering his burden to the projectile. Ah! Ah-ha! This shield of flesh had saved his life! The man, who was alone, did not have time to grab another weapon. Rahan will share "Baghae" with you, but you will share the cave with him! Page Seven: The two opponents were evenly matched. The man was screaming words that Rahan didn't understand and in turn, their bodies hit the rock. Vrazk! Trakra! Stop! Stop! "Those who walk upright” should not fight! Ah! Suddenly projected against a rock, Rahan had the impression that his head was bursting and that the thunder of the sky had entered the cave. Rahan and the man were confused. A huge rock panel, oscillating on its base had become detached from the wall. Vrang! It crashed down in front of the entrance to the cave. Immobile, it obstructed the entrance. Page Eight: Instinctively, Rahan and his adversary threw themselves together at the rock to push it back. It was a derisory and stupid reaction. And it only produced one thing: These two beings were prisoners under the mountain, and they were now united. We could have become friends sooner, Man! But you don't understand Rahan's words and Rahan doesn't know your language! Instinct alone made us act. Rahan wanted to take refuge in your cave and you thought he was coming as an enemy! This is what happens when "those-who-walk-standing-up" do not understand each other! Zlac! Zlac! Rahan, who had discovered dry leaves, struck flints together. He had learned this secret from "those of the river". Page Nine: When the stars of fire sprang from the flints and set the foliage ablaze, the man screamed. Ah! Trazaakk! He contemplated with wonder what he had probably never seen before. The convoluted vault of his immense lair. Trazaakk! Trazaakk! From which clan were you expelled from to exist alone? Thought Rahan. Maybe you led the same life as Rahan? A great fire soon crackled and Rahan skinned the panther. We can eat for several days, but we will not see the days again, nor the nights! The light of the flames hinted at other underground rooms. Rahan sees no way out! We will perish here, like beasts buried in their lair! Page Ten: The horde of the blue mountain preserved the light this way. Trazaakk! Each gesture of Rahan bought an exclamation of admiration from the man. “But, this was before the river of fire engulfed mine!” The terrible memory of the night when his clan was destroyed by the eruption of the volcano had never left Rahan. Rahan grew up in the jungle, alone like you! He had crossed immense rivers on rafts of his own invention. He crossed unknown territories and encountered strange hordes. From them he learned many secrets. That he always transmitted to "those who walk upright", his brothers! But Rahan's life will end here Trazaakk! Page Eleven: Although his words mean nothing to the one he still called "Trazaakk", Rahan spoke aloud. Let us explore our tomb! A noise rose in the distance and the ground in the cave shimmered strangely. We will not even have time to eat the ”Baghae” Trazaakk! The shimmering ground advanced towards the men, and spread out and expanded ceaselessly. The rains have enlarged the springs of the mountain. And the water seeps into the cave! We are going to be drowned! Take this torch quickly! The water had just submerged the fire. The walls offered nowhere on which Rahan and Trazaakk could have taken refuge. The water was now freezing their thighs. Follow me Trazaakk! Quickly! Page Twelve: The man allowed himself to be led towards another room which seemed elevated. Up there! The water was still rising and reached their stomachs. Then their torsos. The distant roar of the cataract grew louder. We must reach that platform Trazaakk! If the water stops rising we will escape drowning! Rahan had to support his companion in misfortune. Trazaakk cannot swim, just as long ago, Rahan could not. But knowing how to swim will not save Rahan. The water continued to rise. And it would end up invading this underground cavern as it had invaded the first. The two captives would perish in this liquid tomb! Page Thirteen: No! Rahan doesn't want to die! He wants to live! Ah! In the final torchlight, Rahan’s eyes sparkled. If the water rises so quickly, it has found a passage, a large passage! Why could Rahan not discover what water can find? Hold that torch up high Trazaakk, like this! Trazaakk was confused. Under Trazaakk’s bewildered gaze, Rahan disappeared into the dark waters. Fighting against the eddy he reached the opening of a third room, the deafening roar surging over his clamor of delight. Ra-ha-ha! Page Fourteen: A waterfall blasted forth from a gap in the rock. The torrential rains had transformed a meager source into a veritable cataract! We are saved! We just have to climb to the top! Rahan returned to find Trazaakk. He had abandoned the torch. But the daylight that tumbled from the gash in the rock was enough. The sun Trazaakk! Soon we will regain the sunlight! A tapestry of slippery moss covered the wall, and climbing seemed impossible. This moss is too slippery! These rock projections are too narrow! Oh! Fissures! The wall had just given Rahan a new idea. Page Fifteen: A moment later he was swimming towards the first cavern between the stalactites, As the water was forever rising. He sometimes had to pass under these obstacles. If I do not find them immediately, I will not be able to get back. Here they are! Floating under the vault of the first cavern, he finally found the spears he was looking for. But the water was still rising and it was now impossible for him to swim in this forest of stalactites. A moment later. Rahan cannot breathe! With his lungs on fire, he risked a new ascent. Page Sixteen: Ra-ha-ha! Rahan breathes! Rahan will rejoin Trazaakk! By chance he had discovered a last pocket of air! This new supply of air allowed him to pass through the entrances of the fully flooded lower chambers. And to return to the one where the waterfall rumbled. He only had eyes for the gap that stood out against the sky. Your spears will allow us to reach the top, Trazaakk! Ha-ha-ha! The torrent smothered Rahan's clear laughter, as Trazaakk looked on confused. A little later. We plant a spear here, and the other below. We climb a little and we replant the first one higher. Page Seventeen: As Trazaakk did not seem to understand, Rahan mimed the first step of the escalation. Do you understand now? Now it’s your turn. Repeating the motions of Rahan, Trazaakk climbed one rung, and hoisted himself on to another. Very good, very good! Ha-ha-ha! The laughter of Trazaakk suddenly made Rahan shiver. What are you doing Trazaakk?! Trazaakk! Trazaakk! Still laughing, the man continued the acrobatic climb. He was already too high for Rahan to stop him. You betrayed Rahan! You are a coward! Ha-ha-ha! And Trazaakk rose slowly towards the gap. Page Eighteen: Trazaakk had reached the gap. Rahan saw him take the spears and disappear between the rocks. He remained motionless staring at this now inaccessible opening. It was quite impossible for him to return to the submerged caverns. And Rahan has no other way to scale the wall! Rahan is lost! Oh! The spears spun in the void and fell towards him. Trazaakk has sent them back to me! But then? Why did he act like this? Presently, Rahan hoisted himself nimbly towards the gap. He left death beneath him, and He rose to life. Page Nineteen: Trazaakk! Trazaakk! Trazaakk! The sun was shining in the sky when he arose into the air of liberty. The birds were singing. He called for a long time and searched around in vain. He did not find Trazaakk. Trazaakk does not understand the words of Rahan. Maybe Rahan appeared to him as a sorcerer? He feared Rahan and it was to distance himself that he acted this way? If he feared Rahan he could have abandoned him in the cave! But he did not! Before fleeing he wanted to thank Rahan for having helped him! Good luck my brother, and good hunting! Rahan knew he would never see Trazaakk again. But he was happy. He had one more certainty that there is always something good in the heart of "Those-who-walk-upright". Page Twenty: Launching to all winds this salute of savage ages, Rahan suddenly thought of his knife. This case betrayed Rahan! Rahan will have to find something else! Something more quiet. More, Oh! The trophy that was still hanging from his belt gave him an idea. And he set to work. Was this skin not soft and supple? It would replace the coarse and noisy bamboo case. The horde he would meet, sometime later, immediately nicknamed him "Chade Baghae" that is to say "tail-of-the-panther". This tail was actually just a sheath! A sheath that no hunter of the "ferocious ages" had thought of before "Rahan", "Son of Crao".

Other Worlds: The Turner Diaries. Chapter 23 A Puke (TM) Audiobook Chapter Twenty Three. August 1, 1993. Today has been the Day of the Rope-a grim and bloody day, but an unavoidable one. Tonight, for the first time in weeks, it is quiet and totally peaceful throughout all of southern California. But the night is filled with silent horrors; from tens of thousands of lampposts, power poles, and trees throughout this vast metropolitan area the grisly forms hang. In the lighted areas one sees them everywhere. Even the street signs at intersections have been pressed into service, and at practically every street corner I passed this evening on my way to HQ there was a dangling corpse, four at every intersection. Hanging from a single overpass only about a mile from here is a group of about 30, each with an identical placard around its neck bearing the printed legend, "I betrayed my race." Two or three of that group had been decked out in academic robes before they were strung up, and the whole batch are apparently faculty members from the nearby UCLA campus. In the areas to which we have not yet restored electrical power the corpses are less visible, but the feeling of horror in the air there is even worse than in the lighted areas. I had to walk through a two- block-long, unlighted residential section between HQ and my living quarters after our unit meeting tonight. In the middle of one of the unlighted blocks I saw what appeared to be a person standing on the sidewalk directly in front of me. As I approached the silent figure, whose features were hidden in the shadow of a large tree overhanging the sidewalk, it remained motionless, blocking my way. Feeling some apprehension, I slipped my pistol out of its holster. Then, when I was within a dozen feet of the figure, which had been facing away from me, it began turning slowly toward me. There was something indescribably eerie about the movement, and I stopped in my tracks as the figure continued to turn. A slight breeze rustled the foliage overhead, and suddenly a beam of moonlight broke through the leaves and fell directly on the silently turning shape before me. The first thing I saw in the moonlight was the placard with its legend in large, block letters: "I defiled my race." Above the placard leered the horribly bloated, purplish face of a young woman, her eyes wide open and bulging, her mouth agape. Finally I could make out the thin, vertical line of rope disappearing into the branches above. Apparently the rope had slipped a bit or the branch to which it was tied had sagged, until the woman's feet were resting on the pavement, giving the uncanny appearance of a corpse standing upright of its own volition. I shuddered and quickly went on my way. There are many thousands of hanging female corpses like that in this city tonight, all wearing identical placards around their necks. They are the White women who were married to or living with Blacks, with Jews, or with other non-White males. There are also a number of men wearing the I-defiled-my-race placard, but the women easily outnumber them seven or eight to one. On the other hand, about ninety per cent of the corpses with the I-betrayed-my-race placards are men, and overall the sexes seem to be roughly balanced. Those wearing the latter placards are the politicians, the lawyers, the businessmen, the TV newscasters, the newspaper reporters and editors, the judges, the teachers, the school officials, the "civic leaders," the bureaucrats, the preachers, and all the others who, for reasons of career or status or votes or whatever, helped promote or implement the System's racial program. The System had already paid them their 30 pieces of silver. Today we paid them. It started at three o'clock this morning. Yesterday was an especially bad day of rioting, with the Jews using transistorized megaphones to whip up the crowds and egg them into throwing stones and bottles at our troops. They were chanting "racism must go" and "equality forever" and other slogans the Jews had taught them. It reminded me of the mass demonstrations of the Vietnam era. The Jews have a knack for things like that. But by three o'clock this morning the crowds had long since finished their orgy of violence and chanting and were in bed-all except a few groups of diehards who had rigged up loudspeakers and were blaring System radio broadcasts out over the surrounding neighborhoods, broadcasts which alternated between screaming rock "music" and appeals for "brotherhood." Squads of our troops with synchronized watches suddenly appeared in a thousand blocks at once, in fifty different residential neighborhoods, and every squad leader had a long list of names and addresses. The blaring music suddenly stopped and was replaced by the sound of thousands of doors splintering, as booted feet kicked them open. It was like the Gun Raids of four years ago, only in reverse- and the outcome was both more drastic and more permanent for those raided. One of two things happened to those the troops dragged out onto the streets. If they were non-Whites-and that included all the Jews and everyone who even looked like he had a bit of non-White ancestry - they were shoved into hastily formed columns and started on their no-return march to the canyon in the foothills north of the city. The slightest resistance, any attempt at back talk, or any lagging brought a swift bullet. The Whites, on the other hand, were, in nearly all cases, hanged on the spot. One of the two types of pre-printed placards was hung on the victim's chest, his hands were quickly taped behind his back, a rope was thrown over a convenient limb or signpost with the other end knotted around his neck, and he was then hauled clear of the ground with no further ado and left dancing on air while the soldiers went to the next name on their list. The hangings and the formation of the death columns went on for about 10 hours without interruption. When the troops finished their grim work early this afternoon and began returning to their barracks, the Los Angeles area was utterly and completely pacified. The residents of neighborhoods in which we could venture safely only in a tank yesterday were trembling behind closed doors today, afraid even to be seen peering through the crack in drawn drapes. Throughout the morning there was no organized or large-scale opposition to our troops, and by this afternoon even the desire for opposition had evaporated. I and my men were in the thick of things all day, mostly handling logistics. When the execution squads began running out of rope, we stripped several miles of wire from power poles to use in its place. We also rounded up hundreds of ladders. And we were the ones who pasted up the proclamations from Revolutionary Command in each block, warning all citizens that henceforth any act of looting, rioting, or sabotage, or any failure to obey the command of a soldier, will result in the summary execution of the offender. The proclamations also carry a similar warning for anyone who knowingly harbors a Jew or other non- White or who willfully provides false information to or withholds information from our police units. Finally, they list the reporting point in each neighborhood to which every person, at a time and date depending upon the position of his name in the alphabet, is to report for registration and assignment to a work unit. I nearly got into a shooting fight with a company commander near City Hall this morning about nine o'clock. That's where we were taking all the big shots to be hanged: the well-known politicians, a number of prominent Hollywood actors and actresses, and several TV personalities. If we had strung them up in front of their homes like everyone else, only a few people would have seen them, and we wanted their example to be instructive to a much wider audience. For the same reason many of the priests on our lists were taken to one of three large churches where we had TV crews set up to broadcast their executions. The trouble was that many of the big shots were arriving at City Hall already more dead than alive. The troops on the transport trucks were really giving them a working over. One famous actress, a notorious race-mixer who had starred in several large-budget, interracial "love" epics, had lost most of her hair, an eye, and several teeth-not to mention all her clothes-before the rope was put around her neck. She was a bruised and bloody mess. I wouldn't have known who she was if I hadn't asked. What, I wondered, was the point in publicly hanging her if the public couldn't recognize her and draw the a proper inferences between her former behavior and her punishment? I was drawn to a commotion near one of the trucks which had just arrived. A grossly fat old man, whom I immediately recognized as the Federal judge who had handed down some of the System's most outrageous rulings in recent years-including the one confirming the power of arrest granted by the Human Relations Councils to their Black deputies-was resisting the efforts of the troops to pull off his pajamas and dress him in his judicial robe. One of the soldiers knocked him down, and then four others began kicking him and repeatedly slamming him in the face, stomach, and groin with their rifle butts. He was unconscious, and perhaps already dead, when the rope was knotted around his neck and his limp figure was hauled about halfway up a lamppost. A TV cameraman was recording the whole scene and broadcasting it live. I was thoroughly disgusted by this latter incident and by several others of a similar nature, and I sought out the officer in charge of the troops there to lodge my complaint. I asked him why he wasn't maintaining proper discipline among his men, and I told him in strong terms that the beatings of the prisoners were counterproductive. We must maintain a public image of strength and uncompromising ruthlessness in dealing with the enemies of our race, but to behave like a gang of Ugandans or Puerto Ricans hardly accomplishes that. (Note to the reader: Uganda was a political subdivision of the continent of Africa during the Old Era, when that continent was inhabited by the Negro race. Puerto Rico was the Old Era name of the island of New Carolina. It is occupied now by the descendants of White refugees from radioactive areas of the southeastern United States, but before the race purges in the final days of the Great Revolution it was inhabited by a mongrel race of especially unsavory character.) Above all else we must show ourselves as disciplined, since we will be demanding strict discipline on the part of the civilian population. We must never give vent to our feelings of frustration or our personal hatreds but must show by our behavior at all times that what we are doing is serving a higher purpose. The captain exploded. He shouted at me to mind my own business. When I insisted that I was minding my business, he became red with anger and said that he, not 1, was the one who had the responsibility and that he was doing the best he could under very difficult circumstances. He pointed out correctly that the Organization had replaced nearly half the men in his company with untrained newcomers in the last month, and so it shouldn't be surprising to me that discipline wasn't all it might be. He also told me that he knew enough about the psychology of his men to understand the value of letting them beat the prisoners as a way of justifying to themselves that the prisoners were their enemies and deserved to be hanged. I really couldn't counter either of the captain's arguments, but I did note with some satisfaction that when he turned away from me he strode angrily over to a group of soldiers who were brutally pistol-whipping a long-haired, effeminate-looking youth in an outlandishly "mod" getup-a popular "rock" performer- and ordered them to stop. Upon thinking about it, I have come to see things more from the captain's viewpoint. Of course, we must tighten up discipline a great deal as soon as we can, but for the moment it is better for us to have more political reliability and less discipline among the troops. We delayed our crackdown on the civilian population as long as we did just so we could weed out and disarm the questionable GI's and replace them with the new people who've been coming through the enemy lines to us. Also, we wanted time to accustom the troops to the new order of things here and to give them at least a little ideological preparation for today's work. And we purposely let the civilians get more out of control than we might have, just so we would have a manifest excuse for taking thoroughly radical measures instead of half- measures, which could not have solved the civilian problem in the long run. One other reason for the delay I learned today was that we needed time to finish compiling our arrest lists. For several years Organization members here, just as in other parts of the country, have been building their dossiers of System toadies, Jew-fawners, equalitarian theorists, and other White racecriminals, along with their street directories of all non-Whites residing in predominantly White areas. We were able to use the latter, which were kept quite up to date even during the last month, without modification. But the dossiers required a huge amount of evaluation and weeding. In the first place there were far too many of them. For example, a White family might have a dossier as racecriminals because a neighbor had once observed a Black attending a cocktail party at their home or because they displayed one of the "Equality Now" bumper stickers, which have been distributed so widely by the Human Relations Councils. In general, unless there was also other evidence in a particular dossier, these people were not put on the arrest list. Otherwise, we'd have had to hang better than 10 per cent of the White population-an entirely impractical task. And even if we could hang that many people, there would be no good reason for it; most of that 10 per cent are really no worse than most of the other 90 per cent. They have been brainwashed; they are weak and selfish; they have no sense of racial loyalty-but the same things are true of most people these days. People are what they have become, and we have to accept that-as a starting point. Actually, it has been true all through history that only small portions of a population are either good or evil. The great bulk are morally neutral-incapable of distinguishing absolute right from absolute wrong-and they take their cue from whoever is on top at the moment. When good men are the rulers and the program-makers for a society, the population as a whole will reflect this, and people with no originality or moral sense of direction of their own will nevertheless fervently support the highest aims of their society. But when evil men rule, as has been the case in America for many years now, most of the population will wallow happily in degeneracy of the worst kind and will self-righteously parrot every filthy and destructive idea that they have been taught. Most judges today, most teachers, actors, civic figures, etc., are not being consciously and deliberately evil, or even cynical, in following the lead of the Jews. They think of themselves as being "good citizens," just as they would think of themselves if they were acting in a diametrically opposite way under the influence of good leaders. Thus, there is no point in killing them all. This moral weakness will have to be bred out of the race over hundreds of generations. For now it is sufficient for us to eliminate the consciously evil portion of the population-plus a few hundred thousand of our morally crippled "good citizens" across the country, as an example to the rest. The hanging of a few of the worst race-criminals in every neighborhood in America will help enormously in straightening out the majority of the population and reorienting their thinking. In fact, it will not only help, but it is absolutely necessary. The people require a strong psychological shock to break old habits of thought. I understand all this, yet I must admit that I was troubled by some of the things I witnessed today. When the arrests first started the public didn't realize what was coming, and many citizens were cocky and abusive. I was present shortly before dawn when the soldiers dragged about a dozen young people out of a large house near one of the university campuses, and they, as well as their housemates who were not arrested, were screaming obscenities at our men and spitting on them. All but one of those arrested here were either Jews, Blacks, or mongrels of various sorts, and two of the loudest of them were immediately shot, while the others were herded into a marching column. The last was a White girl, about 19, a bit flabby but still pretty. The shootings had calmed her down enough so that she was no longer screaming, "Racist pigs!" at the soldiers, but when the preparations for her hanging shortly thereafter awakened her to her own fate, she became hysterical. Informed that she was about to pay the price for defiling her race by living with a Black lover, the girl wailed, "But why me?" As the rope was knotted around her neck, she blubbered out, "I was only doing what everyone else was. Why are you picking on me? It's not fair! What about Helen? She was sleeping with him too." At this last outcry before the girl's breath was cut off forever, one of the other girls (presumably Helen) in the group of now- silent spectators on the lawn shrank back in terror. Of course, no one answered the girl's question, "Why me?" The answer is simply that her name happened to be on our list and Helen's didn't. There's nothing "fair" about that-or unfair either. The girl who was hanged deserved what she got. Helen probably deserves the same fate-and she is undoubtedly suffering the torments of the damned now, in fear that she eventually will be found out and forced to pay the price her friend did. This little episode has taught me something about political terror. Its very arbitrariness and unpredictability are important aspects of its effectiveness. There are a great many people in Helen's situation, whose fear that lightning may strike them at any moment will keep them walking on eggs. The melancholy aspect of the episode is epitomized in the girl's lament, "I was only doing what everyone else was." That is a bit of an exaggeration, but it is true enough that had others not set a bad example for her the girl probably would not have become a race- criminal. She paid as much for the sins of others as for her own. Now I realize more than ever before how essential it is that we instill in all our people a new moral basis, a new set of fundamental values, so that they will no longer be morally adrift like that unfortunate girl was-and like the great majority of Americans today are. This total lack of any healthy or natural morality was brought home to me again just before noon. We were hanging a group of about 40 land developers and real estate brokers outside the offices of the Los Angeles County Fair Housing Association. They had all participated in a special program which made lower mortgage rates available for racially mixed families buying homes in predominantly White neighborhoods. One of the realtors was a sturdy, handsome fellow of about 35 with a blond crew cut. He was vehemently defending himself: "Hell, I never agreed with any of this race-mixing crap. It makes me sick to my stomach to see these mixed families with their mongrel brats. But a man has to earn a living. I was told by the head building inspector in the county that it would be a lot easier to avoid building-code violations for those realtors who went along with the special mortgage program." Without realizing it, he was telling us that a bigger income came before racial loyalty in his set of values-something which is unfortunately true also of a great many who were not hanged today. Well, he made his choice freely, and he hardly deserves any sympathy. The soldiers didn't argue with him, of course. When his turn came, he was jerked off his feet with the same impartiality they had shown toward those who had accepted their fate in silence. They were under orders not to argue with anyone or to explain anything, except a brief statement of the offense for which a person was being hanged. Not even the most convincing protestations of innocence or that "there must be some mistake" caused them to hesitate for an instant. Certainly, we must have made some mistakes today - mistaken identities, wrong addresses, false accusations-but once the executions began there was no admitting to the possibility of mistakes. We deliberately created the image of inexorability in the public mind. And apparently we were quite convincing. Our execution squads were hardly back in their barracks this afternoon when we began receiving reports from all over the city of what appeared to be a sudden wave of murders and beatings. Corpses, most of them showing stab wounds, were being found on sidewalks, in alleys, and in apartment-building hallways. A number of injured persons- several hundred altogether-were also picked up on the streets by our patrols. Although there were a few Blacks among these beating and stabbing victims, we quickly determined that the great majority of them were Jews. All apparently were persons whom our execution squads had missed, but the citizenry had not. Questioning of several Jews who had been beaten soon revealed that at least some of them had been hiding with Gentile families. After our proclamations were posted, however, their protectors turned on them and drove them into the streets. Local vigilante groups armed with knives and clubs had ferreted out others who had not even been on our lists. I am sure that, without the forceful lesson of this Day of the Rope, we would not have so quickly elicited this sort of citizen cooperation. The hangings have helped everyone get off the fence in a hurry. Tomorrow afternoon some of my men will begin organizing civilian labor battalions to cut down the corpses and haul them to the disposal site I have already picked. It'll probably take three or four days to remove all the bodies-there are between 55 and 60 thousand of them-and in this hot weather it'll be quite unpleasant toward the end. But what a feeling of relief it is to finally have all the negative part of our task here finished! From now on it's all uphill-in the good sense: reorganizing, re-educating, and rebuilding this whole society.

Rahan. Episode Four. The Magic Stone. Rahan leapt once again at the big chameleon which had come to prowl around his camp and once more the strange animal escaped him and took refuge in a copse. Rahan does not want to kill you! Oh! As he had taken, a moment earlier, the brown color of the ground, the chameleon was now taking on the hue of the foliage under which he was crouching. Never has a hunter from the blue mountain clan tracked such curious game. Come! Rahan wants to see "The Color-changing Beast" up close! The animal could not this time avoid the quick movement of Rahan. Page two: Ra-ha-ha! Whose joyful cry awakens echoes from the ponds. How do you blend in with the rocks and bushes? If Rahan had this power he would escape all his enemies! Rahan amused, observed the beast which moved between his hands, the color of which she had taken. The sun slowly descended on the ponds and the son of Crao felt happy. Tomorrow, his raft will take him beyond these ponds, towards a new territory, towards the unknown. Yes If Rahan had your power, he would fear nothing! Ra-ha! A terrible bite in the back, suddenly tore from him a cry of pain. He let the chameleon escape and, and jumped aside. Argh! He spun around and stood stunned. There was nothing behind Him! Rahan did not dream it! Rahan has just been bitten by a beast! Page three: Or did a man throw a stone at Rahan?! But there was no living animal nearby in the rocks. Nothing suggested the presence of one of his fellows! If a man spies on Rahan, Rahan will uncover him! The son of Crao knew how to take advantage of Nature's lessons. The beast that changes colors had given him an idea. These leaves will conceal Rahan from his enemy! Ha-Ha-Ha! Rahan also now knows how to conceal himself! An instant later, branches slipped into his belt and others stretched in front of his chest gave him the appearance of a bush! He returned to the rocks and remained on the lookout at the place where his invisible enemy had struck him. Why does he not return? thought Rahan. Page Four: Rahan would have preferred combat to this waiting. But the desire to try out his new cunning forced him into immobility and silence. Ah! This silence was suddenly broken by a crackling at his feet. A flame rose along his legs, and flicked at his loincloth of dry leaves. Only rushing to the nearby pond could save Rahan, who did not have time to free himself from his burning camouflage. It was a strange human torch that disappeared into the green water. Rahan is saved! Rahan reacted with such promptness, that the burns were only superficial. He freed himself of his “skin of leaves”. Page Five: And he came to the surface just as a big crocodile swam near to him. Rahan prefers an enemy like you to the invisible enemy of the rocks! For having faced such saurians many times, the son of Crao knew how to fight them. He dived under its greyish belly, clung to a scaly leg and his ivory knife did the rest! The dying monster was still whipping the water from its tail when Rahan regained his footing on the bank. And now Rahan wants to know! Rahan must know! Rahan wants to see whoever hit him! Rahan wants to know how the leaves caught fire! Knife in hand, he strode resolutely towards the rocks. Page Six: Come out of your hiding place and fight fairly! Oh! Although nothing had moved in the rocks, he had just felt a pain in his chest. It was like a burning ember ejected from a fire that stuck to the skin. But it was not an ember. Rahan exclaimed in wonder. It was a miniscule speck of light! Rahan brought his fingers there and the pain moved to the top of his hand! Now the burning became unbearable. He threw himself aside and the stupefying phenomenon ceased! It is that patch of sun that bit Rahan in the back! It is her that set the foliage on fire! It was then that he noticed the translucent stone behind which the sun blazed. Page Seven: He picked up a dry flame and offered it to the bite of the luminous point. The patch of sun only shines two steps from the magic stone. He screamed with joy when the leaf burst into flame between his fingers. Ra-ha-ha! “Those who walk upright” are ignorant of this way of making fire! Until this day, Rahan had only been able to create fire by striking two flints. This discovery also upsets him. Rahan will introduce the magic stone to his brothers! But to make fire when he wants, Rahan must have the magic stone! He patiently unseated the small block of shimmering quartz. And repeated the experience. Ra-ha-ha! The fire catches when the sun crosses the stone, and it is directed like this! At this distance! Page Eight: Enraptured, Rahan did not hear the grass fluttering behind him. Vrang! Ah! When he regained consciousness, his wrists were bound by vines. He recognized his knife in the belt of one of the men who surrounded him. That man brandished the transparent stone. My brothers have reported to Tagar strange things! They saw you start a fire with this! And Tagar wants you to do this miracle again in front of him! Rahan Cannot! The stone is magic only under the sun! And the sun has set! Rahan Lies! Rahan wants to keep his secret! But Tagar knows how to snatch it from him! The clan leader yelled an order and the vines suddenly tightened. Page Nine: The men braced themselves and brutally spread the limbs of their captive. Rahan has nothing to hide from those who walk upright! He will reveal the secret of the magic stone to his brothers! But he needs the sun! You lie! Pull harder brothers! Rahan flexed all his muscles to resist the merciless pull of his tormenters. His strength was such that the men of Tagar gasped for breath, Shuffled and made no headway, and even recoiled. Enraged, Tagar brandished his club! Rahan is strong but Tagar has burst heads stronger than yours! He was a stupid brute. He was going to strike. Stop! How does Tagar want Rahan to tell him the secret? When he's dead? Eh! Euh! Page Ten: Tagar lowered his club, his limited mind had not for a moment sketched the idea that the secret would escape him forever if he killed his captive! He growled! Tagar wait daylight! But let Rahan not hope to escape in the Night! Tagar himself watch Rahan! Rahan was tied to a tree away from the cave where the clan lived. The men took refuge there as soon as the darkness came. But Tagar remained twenty paces from the captive, crouching in the half-light like a beast. Rahan was right. If Tagar had silenced him, Tagar would never have known the secret of the magic stone. But when Tagar knows the secret, he won't need Rahan anymore! Then he can kill him! Page Eleven: Rahan was divining the secrets of this obtuse being. Tagar is a savage, a beast! Rahan can expect no mercy from him! As soon as I reveal to him the secret of the magic stone, he will have me massacred by his clan! Rahan might perhaps have been able to patiently loosen his bonds. Tagar had foreseen this! He even planned for the event that he fell asleep. A long vine bound the captive's ankle to the clan chief's wrist. The slightest movement of one would alert the other! And yet Rahan must flee before sunrise! Ah! If Rahan still had his knife! Page Twelve: But the ivory knife was slipped into Tagar’s belt, and he, over there, contemplated the translucent stone. The brute's face expressed such covetousness that an idea suddenly occurred to Rahan. Approach Tagar, approach, said Rahan! Tagar was confused. I have to trust you with something. Tagar clutched his spear and was suspicious. He cautiously took a few steps. What secret have you? Things that I could not say in front of the clan Tagar. The true secret of the magic stone. I lied by saying we had to wait for the sun. I was hoping to gain time and escape. But Rahan understands that he is at the mercy of Tagar! Page Thirteen: If Tagar promises his life, Rahan will tell him how to use the magic stone even at night! Tagar Promises! The cruel gaze contradicted the words. So lead me up there on that plateau. Why up there? Because you have to place the magic stone under the moonlight in a certain way. Rahan’s ruse to be unbound and escape from the clan was crude. But he knew what sort of savage he was addressing. You must also promise to keep this secret and reveal it to no-one. I promise! The promise this time was sincere! Rahan thought to himself that this brute wouldn't even give his brothers the benefit of the secret! On the contrary, he would abuse it to dominate his clan! Lead me! Zlack! Page Fourteen: With a stroke of the spear, Tagar cut the bonds of the captive, then threw himself quickly back. I know your strength Rahan! And I am weary! You will stay far from me, at the end of this vine! A moment later, curiously held on a leash by Tagar, Rahan hoisted himself up to the plateau overlooking the ponds. The first phase of his plan had succeeded. Rahan has nothing more to fear from the clan! The only danger now comes from Tagar! How to get rid of this brute? Tagar stayed behind, tugging sharply at the vine when a rock threatened to hide its captive from him. Gently Rahan! I do not want to lose sight of you! The two men finally ascended to the rocky platform were they were bathed in the blue light of the moon. Page Fifteen: The time has come to reveal the secret of the magic stone Rahan! The quartz faintly glimmered in Tagar’s hand. Give! Back! I will throw it to you. As Rahan approached, the spear was readied. Tagar was definitely on his guard. Rahan caught the magic stone. You will know its secret Tagar! Behold! See Tagar! The magic stone captures the light of the moon as in a trap! Rahan played the quartz in the light of the moon and the translucent stone lit up. Tagar followed all the gestures of his captive who retreated, stooped and stood up. The secret is to know the right distance, Tagar. Page Sixteen: And here is that distance! On the rock a stone's throw from Rahan a small light had appeared shining like a star. If the light of the sun replaced that of the moon, this star would be hot enough to start a fire! You now know the secret of the magic stone, Tagar! And I don't need you anymore! You are going to die! The brute brandished his spear and aimed it at his disarmed captive. But Rahan had foreseen this reaction, and. His Riposte: Before the spear left Tagar's hand, the magic stone flew from his! Ha! Ra-ha-ha! Page Seventeen: Oh! Argh! But Rahan had not foreseen that his enemy would stagger and suddenly fall into the void, dragging him. He tried to cling to the ground, but it offered no grip and he was dragged to the edge of the platform. He finally managed to land on a rocky outcrop. Tagar, suspended from his leg, was screaming in terror! The Knife! What are you waiting for to cut the accursed vine? Ah! Each gesticulation of Tagar bought a cry of pain from Rahan. And it was impossible for him, unsupported and hampered by his burden, to regain a footing on the platform. Page Eighteen: But the son of Crao had the gift of knowing how to be patient in all situations. If Rahan cannot go up, he will go down! Making sure that the vine would remain wedged by a projection of rock, he let himself fall into the void! His body counterbalanced that of Tagar. Who suddenly found himself at his height! We have no choice, Tagar! In a lightning motion, Rahan recovered his knife. And sliced the vine that entrapped his ankle. With equilibrium suddenly shattered, the two bodies fell towards the black waters of the pond. Page Nineteen: Vlouf. Back on the surface Rahan saw the caimans and he also saw his raft on which he would be safe. Ra-ha-ha! Ha-ha-ha! His cry of triumph elicited a great laugh when he saw Tagar gesticulating under the moon. Still hanging from the vine stuck in the ledge, the clan chief howled in the night, calling his people for help. Rahan did not even have to worry about the caimans, as they crowded under the ledge, watching for the food that would fall from the sky. Page Twenty: Was Tagar a victim of the saurians? Rahan never knew. His raft glided through the swamp almost noiselessly. His raft carried him to the other side of the great pond, towards unknown territories. And Rahan thought. Rahan discovered yesterday the "color-changing-beast" and the “stone-that-catches-and-traps-sunlight-to-make-fire”! Rahan thought of the strangeness of nature, and also of those who walk upright. He met a man as wild as a beast! What will he discover today? No one in these fierce times could answer this question. On this new day that dawned, in a stammering world full of dangers and mysteries, Anything could happen to Rahan son of Crao, anything!

Episode Five. The bewitched Cavern! Page one: The two friends Nick and Don, accompanied by their friend Timms and Chief inspector Manning and Mark Bowen, are locked in battle with the masters of menace: Creech and Krait! These last two have supernatural powers, which is how they have reduced their adversaries to miniature size! For now, Timms fights against Krait who has become a mutant reptile. Whew! Thinks Timms, A good escape! But where are the others? It is absolutely necessary that they are returned to normal size! Timms finds a bicycle. I will follow them! I cannot give up! Approximately one kilometer away. Arh! Creech! Krait? What is happening? Page Two: The effect of the Potion! I am being transformed! Creech Brakes suddenly, and the shrunken passengers suffer a violent shock. Ah! We will never get out of this! I received a large blow! We must hold on! This is our only chance of salvation! Hold on Nick, as soon as we are in their laboratory, we will get our hands on the ray device and restore ourselves to normal! I will try inspector, and that is a promise. I would love to be normal. Krait and Creech suspect nothing. Everything is good Creech. But look at the helicopter up there, they are hunting us! Poor imbeciles, this is in the bag! Let me use my rays. Page Three: You will turn it into a little toy? No! Watch me do it Krait, watch well! A moment later, the rays illuminate an immense elm tree. Did you see that Jeff? The tree will explode! Vroom! They can do nothing against us! The whole world belongs to us! Page Four: And the two accomplices return to their lair. Did you reconnect the telephone? Nothing abnormal should be detected. Fear nothing! Call the Prime Minister Creech! And let him know our conditions! Like little mice, the four friends run on the floor. They grab a cord. Pull hard! We have to rip it off! Snap! Hooray! It is ours! Ha-Ha-Ha! Where are you going my little ones? You are all going to die! Page Five: The breaking of the telephone cable was fatal for the four friends, transformed as they were into microscopic beings. Very happy to have you among us! What precisely are you doing? Happily, Manning always had his revolver on him. Split! Hide where you can! But Krait reacts immediately! Splat! Krait? What have you there? Our enemies are always around! But this time, they will not escape us! Page Six: I will sweep them away like the insects they are! Mark Bowen just has time to pull Manning by the arms. Thwam! But as the hand rises again, Don comes running up with a needle. Page Seven: Smiff! Ouch! Krait! Krait! What's wrong? The devil take them! They disappeared! Cretin! We cannot work with these little microbes among us! Be careful what you say Creech! Remember with my venom I can dispatch you on the spot! You too Krait! With my rays I can shrink you to a microbe! During this argument. They argue! Perfect! We will apply the motto of “Divide and Conquer”! Yes, we must take advantage of their disagreement! Page Eight: Our sole objective: We must find the Rays Creech controls, otherwise we will never regain our normal size. Listen! They are looking for us! However, the reconciled Creech and Krait search everywhere. If I turn into a reptile again, I will look sharp! Wait! I have a better idea! There is a vacuum cleaner in the closet! And it will be so much fun to suck them up with this device! A Vacuum cleaner! Quickly! In this hole my friends! No! We do not know if a mouse would be a greater danger! We must choose something else! Whir! Page Nine: He advances! We will be sucked! Whir! Sucky-Sucky! Whir! Whir! No nonsense! Even the smallest error will cost us! Ha-Ha-Ha! We will collect them in the dust bag! We have reduced them to impotence! We have sucked them to dust! Ha-Ha-Ha! Thump! Whir! The dust began to suffocate the four! Page Ten: We must unplug the vacuum cleaner! Careful! We could cause a short circuit and electrocute ourselves! But the monster gives them no time to try. Imbeciles! I was hoping for a little laugh! Stamp! Stamp! Then Creech intervenes. Krait! Stop! I want to have a little fun too! Page Eleven: But again, there is much ado about nothing. Little Demons, Where did they go? It is your fault Krait! You always lose your coldness of blood! At the other end of the room. Mark and Manning catch their breath. Whew! How do we get out of this? I wonder! Where are the two boys? Krait did not even realize that his matches had fallen! What a stroke of luck! I think I have a good idea! If we start a fire, Krait will rush to put it out. Creech will follow the events. At the same time, one of us can seize the device. Page Twelve: We have to hurry! They are everywhere! Voila! Here is a match. Give it to me, and go to the other end of the laboratory! Grasping the match in both hands, Manning strikes it against the box. Strike! Great gods! He miscalculated his strike! He will fall into the fire! Page Thirteen: But he will burn like a torch! He did not jump fast enough! At least he did not fall into the fire! Immediately, Mark Bowen rushes towards Manning. Whiff! With an energetic movement of his arms, he swings Manning forward. Page Fourteen: Let us hurry up Don! Careful! Our clothes can catch fire! Not a second to lose! Leave the lab while I go get Creech's device. Good Luck Mark! Suddenly Creech and Krait realize the danger. Ah! These little devils are terrible! Leave them! Take care of the fire first Krait! And while the two accomplices attempt to put out the fire, Mark climbs on Creech’s chair. Page Fifteen: He reaches for the arm of the chair. As long as he does not look down! I will his device steal. But just when Mark reaches to press the button. Devil! What is this? Thass! Sneak! Surprised, Creech squirms in his chair and Mark and the device are thrown to the ground. Ugh! Before the old man can react, Manning and the two boys rush into the beam of the Rays! Hurry Mark! He may try and take it back! Under threats and insults, the four friends return to normal size! No! No! You will not get me! Think carefully Creech! This time it really is your end! Page Sixteen: But again, Krait comes to the rescue! Poor fools! You don't know my power! I will turn you into reptiles! We are out to sea! The venom is in his ring! Just then, the building wall collapses! Crash! Voila! Behold! The four friends have just enough time to escape the burning building. A few minutes later. Ka-Boom! Crash! Everything collapses! The building was wood everywhere! The fire caught rapidly. That wasn’t Mister Timm’s house was it? Page Seventeen: Creech and Krait, are they still inside? Crackle, crackle. What can we do? Nothing Don. They are no longer harmful. But Creech and Krait are very much alive. The rays, it is my only hope! And Creech directs the rays onto a mirror on the wall. I have to hurry before the heat breaks the glass! It has to work! Crash! Page Eighteen: The rays reflect onto Creech, and in the space of a minute, he and his chair are shrunk! Perfect, now I can run! For his part, Krait thinks about his safety. My potion! It's the only thing that can save me! Immediately he swallows the contents of the vial, and the transformation is accomplished! Arch! Argh! The change, the change! Page Nineteen: My crocodile skin protects me from fire! My salamander blood helps me bear the heat! I'm alive! In the flaming maelstrom and smoke, the extraordinary reptile man flees the burning house! Liberty! I am free! But Creech, the filthy, hiss, egotist, hiss, where is he? By passing through a mouse hole, Creech also escapes the danger! It is done! Now to find a reflective surface to regain my normal size! But in his haste to flee Creech is imprudent! Thump! Page Twenty: His chair brushes against a cord, of what seems like an ordinary rope. Thump! Suddenly, he raises his head and lets out a cry of horror! What! Oh No! Huge compared to Creech, a spider slowly advances towards him. His cry of anguish is heard by Krait! Creech? Where is he? He cries for help. Page Twenty one: The spider relentlessly advances! Cursed Beast! Argh! On all fours, Krait searches for the source of the sound. He let me down! I should abandon him too! But I need his knowledge, he is precious! Like a microbe at the mercy of the spider, Creech faints from fear, but at that moment. Thwap! Zlang! Ha-ha-ha! Creech! You owe me your life, my little scoundrel! Page Twenty two: And carrying his important ally in the hollow of his hand, the reptile man bounded away. Our enemies imagine that we are dead, and above us only sky! But they are dreamers! We are still alive and we will carry out our plans. After a while, the fire went out in the bungalow. They must be completely charred. I believe it, no expert will be able to identify them. But Creech’s wheelchair is surely still there. It is possible. But nothing proves that they did not have time to flee. Page Twenty three: The four friends search for hours. Nothing! No trace! I wonder how they managed to escape? I wonder too. They will start again somewhere else! God knows where! And strike harder for revenge! The police were immediately alerted, and the village cordoned off. Two men, one in a wheelchair! We have orders to shoot. Keep your distance! It seems that they have formidable rays! They can destroy the entire city! Page Twenty four: Perched at the top of the bridge, Krait fumes. Poor Fools! They are unaware of my power! Do not brag too much! We have not had the last word. Wait until I go back to my normal size first! Krait stops at the very end of the bridge. He found what he was looking for. A truck! What a godsend! I will be able to escape! But they will hear you jump on the roof! Trust me, my friend! Hiss! Do you forget that I possess the suppleness of a reptile? Have you ever heard of the flying lizard of Borneo? Krait launches himself into space in the direction of the truck. Page Twenty five: Krait! Wait! You are only holding my chair! I am falling! Carried away in the moment, Krait does not hear the feeble complaint. We are almost there! Krait! I am falling! Krait lands on the Tarpaulin. Creech has disappeared! And the Ray machine with him! I have to do something! Page Twenty six: I can command all reptiles! They are all under my control! Listen to me! All listen to me! The next instant, the truck driver brakes suddenly. Damn it, there are creatures on the road. Lizards Frogs? Where did all these animals come from? And. One of you needs to recover the little man! He fell behind! Bring him to me! Page Twenty seven: Crouching in a bush, Creech regards the Toad that is searching for him. A second later. Ka bong! Ka Bong! Bravo my faithful friend! You can rejoin your faithful brothers! Go! Go, Go, GO! Ouf! They are leaving! What a nightmare! Page Twenty Eight: And the driver returns to behind the wheel. One more time I owe you my life Krait? You won’t forget hear? We need to make our plans carefully. First of all I need a mirror to return to my true size. There are mirrors in this truck. I will slip you into my pocket. I'm going to dislodge the driver and take the wheel. For Krait it's child's play. The venom-laden ring is aimed at the driver. What is this? What is it? Thrash! Krait is violently thrown to the ground. Screech! Ah! Ah! Page Twenty Nine: The truck swerved into the embankment. Ah! Crash! And after travelling a few meters it caught fire. Crash! Wumpf! Creech? Where are you? Creech, answer me! Page Thirty: Here Krait! I am here, Help me! Hiss! You survived, so much the better! The mirrors! Where are the mirrors of the truck Krait? Put me in front of them so that I become normal again! It is not that simple. Oh, it is broken. The one that is inside is too. But! But! What am I going to do? The region is deserted. A little further, and we will certainly find houses with mirrors. Page Thirty One: At the same time, Inspector Manning, Mark Bowen and their young companions. They took flight, Inspector. Those madmen are at large again! They will cause damage again! Suddenly! Nick! Don! It is Timms! Where were you Timms? I was trying to catch you. And I Saw Krait. Barely half an hour ago. He caused a truck accident! Krait was proceeding along this deserted road. Maybe he got lost. We have one chance to find him. Page Thirty Two: But in this abandoned region there lived a solitary man of whom few had heard. His name was Harkin the hermit. Here begins the experiment to find the elixir of eternal youth. The potion must boil! Once I drink it, the mirror will project my youthful face. I worked a lot on the formula. A special mercury, herbs. Absorbed in work, the hermit did not see Krait enter the cave. We have found it! Here is a mirror. And that old fool is no obstacle. Page Thirty Three: Harkin the hermit admires himself in his mirror. Ha-Ha-Ha! I'm going to drink my potion. And in my mirror, I will witness the transformation! But in that moment, he feels, a glacial pressure on his wrist. Ah! No more experiments, old wizard! I need to make better use of your mirror! Ah! What a disagreeable sensation! You will have many more! Tarsa! Zing! At this moment, pic, the hermit's cat let out a strange cry! Page Thirty Four: By a thousand cobras! What is this! Krait! Never mind the cat! Think of me first! Ah! Yes! I forgot you! Will you at least show me your gratitude? Of course! Of course! But please put me in front of the mirror! I need to recover my size! Page Thirty Five: Krait’s laugh turns into a long complaint. Argh! Argh! I am changing! And once again, the reptile became the man. Excuse me Creech, I was just transitioning! You're welcome! Don't leave me like this. Krait installs his companion right in front of the mirror. Is that alright? Very good! Watch out! I will activate the rays. But, at the same time. Is this where you saw Krait, Timms? I am certain. We must pay careful attention to Creech's rays! We must not be taken in anymore! They don't know we followed them Mark! We can surprise them again. Page Thirty Six: Just at that moment. Devil! What is this? Hiss! Hiss! A cat? Maybe savage. Savage cat, or alley cat, where did it come from? Oh look! He wasn’t us to follow him! Oh Good! Let’s go! He is heading for a cave. But what does this all mean? Krait and Creech never had a cat! I bet they are there! They may have dislodged a cat that had settled there! Page Thirty Seven: For a surprise, it is a surprise! Let us be prudent, all the same. You are right Manning! These two individuals are terribly dangerous! Inside. Are you ready Creech? Yes. The rays will cover me, and I will grow, little by little. Look! The effect begins, I can feel it. Page Thirty Eight: Suddenly, under their astonished gaze. Ah! The mirror is disintegrating! Kaboom! Then there is silence. A dreadful silence. What? What is this? What does it mean? I do not know! But the old hermit has something to do with it! It is of no consequence! Let us get out of here, we have a lot of work to do! A very strong wind was blowing when we entered and now not a breath! Page Thirty Nine: Turning around they see the cat frozen like a statue. What happened to this cat? It is hypnotized? I sense an indefinable danger! Something has happened. Faced with the danger that they cannot explain, they flee. Two hundred meters away, they stop to catch their breath. It smells like it's burning here! But it is us! Out clothes are consumed! It is probably that damned mirror! What mysterious forces did it release when it broke!? I confess I don't understand anything about it! But it's been a long time since I've been so scared! Page Forty: At the same moment. He searches everywhere! I will get the ray machine! Timms take care of Krait! In the inside of the cave, Harkin the hermit lay inanimate. Is he alive? Yes! But we must take care of him without wasting a second! They will inspector! Here are the traces of the wheelchair! A moment! We heard an explosion coming from inside. There is only one exit! They could not vanish! What if they had made themselves invisible? These two are capable of anything! The hermit is the only one who can enlighten us! Take him to the hospital! Page Forty one: At the same time, Mark and I will go in search of these two monsters! Pay close attention! In the deserted countryside, Krait and Creech felt uneasy. Not a breath! Nothing moves except our two bodies! And not a sound! What weight of weather. Look at that butterfly Krait! It is immobile, suspended in midair! It is incredible! But wait! I want to do a little experiment. Krait grabs the Ray device and. No! Krait! Do not drop it! Page Forty two: Much to their delight, the metal box remained suspended for a moment. Then imperceptibly it began to move. She Floats! No! It falls at normal speed but you and I don't see it! It is the effect of the bewitched mirror! Since we broke it, we've been living in other dimensions! We are moving much faster, both of us. A second for us is ten minutes for the others! That is the reason that everything seems motionless to us? And throwing up a laugh of joy, Krait resumes his place behind his friend. Formidable Creech! We have an additional asset to dominate the world, my friend! You're right! We can move as fast as this. We are invisible to an ordinary gaze, and nothing can stop us! Page Forty three: Very far behind, Mark Bowen and Inspector Manning follow the wheelchair tracks. How the devil did they escape from us? I wonder too! And if you notice? The tracks of the wheels are extremely light. And that the ruts are completely dry. As if the wheels were hot. It is uncanny! They should not be far away! And yet we do not see them! They certainly followed this path! Nick wondered if they had made themselves invisible! Is it possible? The rays of Creech, the power of Krait to transform into a reptile. That is not bad! But invisibility, never! In that case, let's continue to follow the tracks! We will eventually catch up to them! Page Forty four: Timms and the two boys had taken the opposite direction carrying the still unconscious old hermit. The hospital is just behind this wood, in the village. This old man bears the traces of snake bites! No wonder Krait attacked him! Do you think he can tell us? Without a doubt! I hope we can revive him before Mark and the inspector get in trouble. Are they in danger? I mean something unexpected that we didn't think about? At that moment. Stop Creech! Look behind us! Bowen and Manning! They cannot see us. They are immobile, like everything else. We can turn around and attack them before they move an inch. Page Forty five: They are at our Mercy! They cannot see us! We can act without fear! Indeed the two men were completely invisible to the human eye! They do not even hear our voices. Watch how I am going to destroy them with my poisoned ring! No! Let us not be in such a hurry! We can also burn them! It will only take a fraction of a second! But Krait's credulity causes their downfall. The box of matches fell from his hands with such speed that. Wumpf! Page Forty six: Poor fool! What have you done? Back off! Back away before the flames reach you! But their slightest movement increases the danger. Stop! Fool! Ah! We burn! We burn! The wheelchair crashes against the wall. Page Forty seven: And bounces towards the water with the two men. Creech! Stop the chair, Great Gods! This heat is unbearable! Then. Splash! Creech! What have you done? But you're the one who pulled out the matches! Luckily there was this water under the bridge. Page Forty eight: Quickly! Help me get the wheelchair out! Do you think it still works? Mark and Manning were ignorant of how close they were to death. They took the road. But from what side? More tracks! Let us go left, they descend! Oh! This wall has been broken down! But there is nothing below! Let us continue. Let them come Krait! They don't see us. As soon as the chair is out of the water, we will get away. We have truly become invisible! Page Forty nine: The wheelchair is hoisted onto the bank. You see? Our two enemies are motionless! They cannot see or hear us! They will not escape our vengeance! Krait marches off towards Manning and Bowen. Sit in your chair, I'll take care of them! Meanwhile, Timms and the two boys have taken the hermit to the hospital. You saved my life! Harkin will reward you! We are looking for the two men who attacked you. They are dangerous! Page Fifty: Harkin grabbed a carafe of water from the bedside table, stared at it, and pronounced strange words. Marathek! Mawreba! Krathon! I see them! I see them! They have reached the fifth dimension! They are invisible to the human eye! They are a death threat! What is he saying Don? I do not know. But He must prevent them from doing evil. The hermit continued to gaze intently into the carafe of water. Those who steal Harkin's secrets will pay dearly! Silence! I will act! Page Fifty One: At that moment, Krait was about to throw a big rock at Mark and Manning. Manning! Attention! It is Krait! Thrash! But how? Where did he come from? Abruptly transitioning from one dimension to another, Krait momentarily loses his composure. Creech! Help me! Help Me! Back in his chair, Creech rushes over. Come quickly Krait! Hurry Up! Great Gods! They escape! Page Fifty Two: Follow them! No Mark! If Creech sends his Rays against us, we are damned! We finally found them! Oh! If only we could telephone! How to stop them? How? Creech and Krait motor away in the wheelchair. The way is open for them! They can recommence sowing terror! I see nothing to stop them! Page Fifty Three: Creech and Krait were motoring in their infernal wheelchair when suddenly. Aircraft Creech! They have not given up on us! Ha-Ha-Ha! They will regret their folly! Hunter calling base! The two Men are in sight, reference one two six, three six five! To the northeast. Attack Immediately! Destroy! Manning and Mark are in contact with the aviators. It will be a real massacre! But why do the authorities not listen to us? Have they ever done that? For our part, we will try not to lose sight of Creech and Krait. A few miles away, Creech sends his rays against the squadron. Note well the aircraft in the center Krait! Page Fifty Four: Caught in the field of the rays, the plane expanded to three times its size. And the inevitable accident with the other two occurred. Crash! Boom! Ah! Is this not marvelous? The poor idiots will finally understand that it is useless to attack us! And we are in command! Page Fifty Five: An instant Creech! The government will certainly make a statement on television. I am thinking of something. In the space of a second England will be at our feet! Look Mark! There they are! They are coming this way! We can block their route! Excellent idea! We can hide behind the shrubs and shoot at them. And without remorse, believe me! What is going on? They should be here already! Yes. No obstacle is in their way. A long time passes. I will go and have a look. They slipped through our fingers once again. But how? Page Fifty Six: Creech and Krait are headed towards the television transmitter. Are you sure the rays can pass through? Of course! And since the link is direct, there will be no danger for us! Do you realize, Creech! Thousands of stupid people will plug in their sets and. And my rays will reach them in full. Ha-ha-ha! More than half of the population will fall into our hands, all at once! Nothing seemed to be in the way of these diabolical plans. Nothing except Harkin the hermit's revenge. I see them! In a strange place difficult to identify. It is necessary however! Manning and Mark have lost their tracks. Nick, Don and Timms attend anxiously. Machines. Screens. Unknown to me. I, I do not know. Page Fifty Seven: At the same time. Ha-ha-ha! Thousands of television viewers will be transformed in to little dwarfs. We will become the masters of the country. Nothing can stop us! At the hospital. All those machines. I don't see what it could be. I will give this news to Mark and Manning. And the three friends leave the hermit's room. Mark and Manning lost sight of them. But they must not be very far away! I hope so! Wait for me here. I will be right back. Nick manages to reach Mark and Manning by radio. It could well be a television transmitter. There is one on the moor. That would explain why they did not pass by here. Page Fifty Eight: Good god! They will transmit their reducing rays by television! Should we send cars with loudspeakers to towns to warn people? Those two monsters would have plenty of time to destroy everything! No! Let us do it alone, Mark! Mark and Manning rush through the moor. We will have to continue on foot. If they see us, we are done. They reach the building without difficulty. I have to shoot them! I have no scruples! We must put an end to the danger they represent! Page Fifty Nine: Unfortunately, Creech and Krait see him and. Bring them back to my Field, Krait! Wham! Lying on the ground, Mark sees Krait swallow the contents of a vial. Oh No! No! Yes Bowen! I will transform myself into an invincible serpent! And you will die! You and your friend will feel the effect of my poison! At that moment, Creech triggered his rays. And they enveloped his accomplice! Ah! What are you doing you fool! I am shrinking! Page Sixty: Then there was an explosion. The circuits shattered. It missed! Everything blew up! Barely standing on his feet, Mark drags Manning out Just in time! Blown up! It is the end! Boom! Crash! The authorities must have intervened. They cut the power to the relay station. This time we're definitely finished with Creech and Krait. The world can heave a sigh of relief! End of this Episode.

Rahan. By Roger Lecureux. Episode three. The fish trap. Rahan will still have to gnaw roots and eat the weeds. For a few moons Rahan has known how to fly under the water. But he still was not swimming fast enough to catch up with the marvelous mottled fish that would appease his hunger. Exhausted by this new and vain attempt, he returned to the shore. While the sparkling salmon that came up the river seemed to taunt him. If Rahan had vines, he would make a net, like the fishers of the clan of black men. But Rahan has no vines. Page Two: Lying in the shade of a bush he was watching the leaping fish when something crashed onto the river. Oh! Wampa! It would take a Rahan with wings like a Wampa. The great bird flapped its wings and its sharp beak caught in flight a salmon which sprang out of the water. Rahan stays huddled in the shadow of the thorn trees because he knows how dangerous it is to face this monster of the sky. But this one was already gone, a new fish in its beak. Rahan had not killed any game since he ventured into this savage territory. He was hungry, very hungry. Jump! Jump! He thinks, one of you may end up falling back on solid ground! A salmon wriggled at the end of a branch, suspended by its mouth from a thorn in the shrub. Very close to the thorn, Rahan noticed the cluster of tiny red fruits. Page Three: Perhaps it was to swallow these fruits that he jumped out of the water? And he impaled himself on the thorn! Rahan would never have imagined such a strange trap. Rahan, the son of Crao, the sole survivor of the horde of the blue mountain that was decimated by a volcanic eruption, has lived since his childhood in the wild. Nature was both his ally and his enemy. Sometimes she raged against him. Rahan does not fear fire from heaven! Sometimes, on the contrary, she would reveal secrets to him that his waking brain knew how to put to good use. If this trap attracts fish, they will be caught by Rahan. And since they devour each other, the flesh of this one will attract the others! Pruning a branch bristling with thorns Rahan perhaps invented that day the first hook. Page Four: And indeed, an instant later. Ra! Vlouf! Vlouf! Two, three, four fish hang from the fish trap. Rahan punctuates each take with a cry of victory! From then on, he knew he would never be hungry when he wandered near a stream. Rahan will no longer foolishly pursue fish in their domain, he will make them come to him! Ha-Ha-Ha! He was scaling one of these fish when the rustling of huge wings resounded above him. The shadow of the swooping predator enveloped him immediately. A terrible shock knocked him to the ground before he could touch his ivory knife. The Wampa! The, the, oh! Page Five: One fish then a second, disappeared in the bird's oversized beak. Back Wampa, back! Rahan did not fish for you! Rahan knew how fearsome this monster was. The fish of Rahan will not pass through your gullet! The ivory blade crossed through the throat of the raptor, which beat its wings one last time and collapsed. Long ago, Rahan did not know how to throw his knife! He would have faced you in hand to hand combat, and your beak would have opened his chest. It is this spear that will open your chest Rahan! The young man who was approaching held his spear high. That Wampa belonged to my clan! He is docile and faithful! He was fishing for us! Page Six: Is it possible for a monster like the Wampa to obey those who walk upright? Rahan has never seen such a thing! What does it matter to Marha what Rahan has seen! Rahan killed the Wampa! He must die in his turn! Zizz! Ha-Ha-Ha! Marha is not fast enough for Rahan. Leave the lance where rests Marha! I could kill you as easily as I killed the Wampa! But Rahan does not want to kill "Those who walk upright". Especially when they are your age! But you are going to make me die! Page Seven: What are you saying? If Marha returns to his family without the Wampa, he will be sacrificed! A look of terror passed over the face of the boy. No game is found in this cursed territory. Only the big river fish allow the clan to survive. But to catch the fish, you need a Wampa. Rahan breaks the spear. This one fishes for us! By killing him you have condemned the clan to starvation. I will teach you other ways to fish! This one for example. As soon as Rahan’s branch-hook had touched the water, a salmon was caught. Vlouf! Shortly after, the fish accumulated on the river bank, at the feet of the bewildered child. Ah! Ha! Again! Marha must be dreaming. What country do you come from to know such a marvelous secret? Page Eight: Rahan did not know before this morning! But Rahan knows how to observe things and sometimes imitate nature. In Marha’s eyes, admiration competed with fear. The clan will not forgive me for letting you kill the Wampa! But Marha! I will reveal to your clan the secret of fishing. Lead me to them. The clan of Marha lived in a large cave, not far from the river. Astonished shouts greeted the child. Who is the man with Marha? Where is the Wampa? The Wampa is dead Kardirk. A terrible silence suddenly fell on the cave. Rahan had the impression of hearing the beating heart of some colossus that had arisen. It is me, Rahan, who stabbed the Wampa! I was fishing on the river and the Predator wanted to eat my fish. I protected them, as is a hunters right! Page Nine: Rahan kept his hand on his knife, ready to respond to any assault from the clan. But no one moved. Chief Kardirk's voice thundered. It was indeed your right Rahan! And no one will reproach you. But Marha, to whom we had entrusted the Wampa, Should have protected it from your blows! The law of the clan is formal, whoever lets the Wampa die must die in turn! Marha must die! But it was I who killed the Wampa! I should be punished! No! You protected your fishing, as you should have! And Marha should have protected the Wampa. The men were already binding the boy’s arms and legs. Do not kill me! Do not kill me! Rahan will reveal the secret of fishing! Rahan threw the cluster of Salmon at Kardirks’s feet. Marha is telling the truth! Let him live and I will teach you. Every day, more fish than the Wampa could catch. Page Ten: Your secret is not important to us Rahan! Our horde has always fished with a trained Wampa! It will continue! Rahan recognized the feeling that he had repeatedly encountered in "Those who walk upright". Attachment to habits and customs. Kardirk is wrong! Rahan too once believed that his horde was the strongest, that it had the best hunters. But Rahan met others who were aware of the things of which he was ignorant. Rahan has known more skilled hunters than his brothers! "Those who walk upright" always have something to learn from each other! Kardirk eyed Rahan with a strange smile. Rahan thinks that he is more cunning, more skilled, and stronger than Kardirk? The horde leaders’ tone hinted at a challenge. This one was dropped. Since you are interested in Marha, I propose this to you. The first of us to bring a young Wampa back to the horde will decide Marha's fate! Page Eleven: Rahan caught a glimpse of Marha's anguished gaze. Rahan accepts Kardirk's challenge! We start immediately! Each their own way! If Kardirk brings back a Wampa first, he will decide to put Marha to death! May Rahan win this test! Rahan didn't know anything about this country. But he knew that the Wampas were still roosting in the mountains. He dashed into the steppe with low bushes. Rahan must discover the Wampa’s area before dark. The soft branches whipped his legs and hips, but he did not care. Oh! His knife, struck by a branch, was torn from his belt. Page Twelve: Such incidents had often happened. And he had repeatedly almost lost the precious weapon. Rahan wondered how he could keep the knife from slipping. During his fights, the knife had sometimes slipped from his hand. And Rahan had had the idea of this loop fixed to the handle. But he did not have that idea until this morning. Thus, Rahan will no longer lose his knife. The sun was very high when it reached the mountain. A couple of Wampas chased each other in the sky, the flight of which he carefully followed. But Rahan was not alone in observing the birds of prey. The nest of these Wampas is not far! Kardirk will cross it before Rahan! Page Thirteen: The two birds disappeared into a crevice in the mountain. Rahan will have to kill them to bring back one of their young. A moment later Rahan was climbing the rock wall. There were large and numerous protrusions helping his ascension. Ah! Kardirk. Down below, the leader of the horde had just missed a hold. He spun around for a moment. He is lost! No! A ledge had stopped Kardirk's fall. The chief of the clan remained motionless on this perch. Rahan saw that Kardirk had lost his weapon. He would not be able to face the Wampas. The birds of prey sprang from the crevice and dived towards the inert man. Rahan has no right to let them shred Kardirk! Page Fourteen: The birds seemed to hesitate and circled above the rock. Putting this hesitation to profit, Rahan leapt from one projection, and then to another. Rah! He landed near Kardirk just as a Wampa attacked. Ah! Raising his battle cry Rahan wanted to brandish his knife! And. His idea had turned against him! The vine which usually slipped easily held the knife to its belt! And he had no time to untie the knot. A Wampa swooped down on him, wrapping its wings around him! Ah! You may kill Rahan, but you will die with him! Page Fifteen: Pushed against the rock by the winged monster, Rahan hit where he could. Free to move, he had quickly found a vital point. But with the short vine holding the knife to his belt, he could not deliver blows above his hip! The second Wampa attacking Kardirk came to. Unarmed, the chief of the clan desperately resisted the raptor. Rahan stood up screaming his victory cry! Ra-ha! Kardirk is going to die. Rahan will be able to bring the young Wampas back to the clan! Rahan has won the challenge! Page Sixteen: It didn't occur to Kardirk that the one he had challenged could help him. So he watched with amazement as Rahan rushed forward. Ra-ha! The son of Crao had time to untie his Knife this time. And his first blow was so precise that he needed no time for a second strike. Zlang! Kardirk slowly freed himself from under the raptor’s corpse. Rahan could have let Kardirk perish. Why did Rahan not do it? Because Rahan thinks those who walk upright must help each other. As if they were all part of the same clan! Of the same horde! Page Seventeen: Strange cries now rose from the crevice. The young Wampas are in the nest. Go, Rahan, go! You have earned the right to bring one back to the clan! There was perhaps a little bitterness in Kardirk's voice, but not anger. Rahan hoisted himself up to the perch of the Wampas. He reappeared very quickly, happily brandishing a hideous and already enormous baby bird. I think this one will be an excellent fisherman! He joined the chief of the clan at the foot of the cliff, who had just recovered his club. Our horde will now have a lot of respect for Rahan, thought Kardirk to himself. Argh! The blow was so unexpected that Rahan collapsed without even seeing who hit him. Page Eighteen: He only understood when he came to. Kardirk the deceiver did not want to accept his defeat! He grabbed the young Wampa! He will claim to have won the event and will have the right to decide the fate of this poor Marha. And I know he will decide on death! Furious and anxious, Rahan rushed in the still fresh footsteps of Kardirk. He was soon in sight of the grotto from which rose joyful cries. The horde salutes the victory of its leader. I, Kardirk. I am happy and proud to have triumphed over an adversary as loyal, as courageous as Rahan! Rahan was amazed at the loud voice of Kardirk singing his praises! But since I brought back the Wampa, I have the right to decide on the fate of Marha! Page Nineteen: I Kardirk, Chief of the clan, decide that the young Marha must be forgiven! Marha will live! We entrust him with the task of training the Wampa for fishing. Oh Rahan! Rahan had just entered the cave with a faint smile on his face. I see a good decision Kardirk! I would not have taken another if I had been victorious! Kardirk, a little embarrassed dragged Rahan aside. You are the real winner Rahan! I told my people how you saved me! And that you knocked me out? No I lied about the Wampa. But you have to understand me, Rahan. If you had brought back the Wampa. I would have lost the trust of the clan! My people would have fought to designate a new chief. And I don't want them to fight anymore. Of course if you want you can tell them the truth! I will bow to their decision! Marha's fate alone interested me Kardirk. You saved him and I am satisfied. Page Twenty: However, I would like to reveal something to your clan! Kardirk was very worried, and followed Rahan who returned to the horde. The training of the Wampa will be long brothers! How will you eat while you wait? Don't you think the time has come for me to reveal to you the secret of fishing! Kardirk, gave Rahan a grateful look. And the latter spoke at length of the discovery he had made that very morning. In the days that followed there reigned a joyful animation on the banks of the great river. Rahan was right! We now know how to catch more fish than a Wampa family would catch! Your horde will never go hungry, Kardirk! Oh! Hold me! This one will get me Ha-Ha-Ha! Ha-Ha-Ha! Rahan was happy, happy. He had taught something to those who walk upright. He found his reward in their joy.

Episode four. The shadow of the Serpent. Page 1: Todays’ preferred distraction for Don Redding and Nick Dexter is fishing. Nick, I’ve got something on the end of my line! Lucky! Wait for me, I’m coming to help you. Even together, the line is still too heavy. But, but, it’s not a fish! Nick! Its, it’s a man! The two boys bring back the drowned man to the shore. Quickly! Artificial breathing Nick! I will try Don, but I’m afraid it will do nothing. Page 2: However, the drowned man seems to come back to life. But his eyes remain closed. He’s not very well yet. I’ll look for Mister Timms, he may be able to help us. A few minutes later, the man of science, Mister Timms, comes to their aid. I did what I could Mister Timms. Let’s bring him inside here. A half hour later. Where, where am I? In good hands, my friend. My name is Mister Timms. The two young people, they have pulled you from the river. The…the river? Oh yes! They drowned me to prevent me from becoming the master of the world. Page 3: I ALMOST HAD EVERYTHING! DO YOU HEAR ME! Great gods! You are doing well Monsieur. Excuse me! I am so, so tired. At the same instant, at the offices of Scotland Yard, London. Glad to meet you Mark. And you too, Inspector Manning, as our names are associated with the shadow of the serpent. That creature could destroy the country, Mark. I feel quite a relief now that he has been eliminated. Page 4: The man they speak of was a famous biologist who had discovered a potion allowing him to transform reptiles into fearsome monsters. I won’t be able to relax until we fish out his corpse. The current may have swept it away, mark. But the serpent was alive and well. Nick and Don, which the newspapers have spoken of. They fought Creech, chief of the white eyes. I must find this Creech! And together we will rule the world. Page 5: A few minutes later, the saviors find the serpent under the covers. Nick, Don, you two can retire, I’ll take care of things. You believe that he is completely recovered? At the slightest warning, I’ll call a doctor. Perfect. Till tomorrow. All is serene in the little bungalow, and then suddenly. What! What is this? Silence Imbecile! You are under my power! You and your two friends fought Creech, the master of the white eyes. Creech?! Page 6: What has become of him! You know, tell me! Uh! He is dead! But the door opens suddenly… Timms, is that you Timms? Creech! It is impossible! Creech’s fingers tighten on a small device that emits rays… Ah! Thurf! Ha, ha! Timms! You rejoiced too soon! It is YOU that are going to die, right now! Page 7: Wait a moment, hang on a minute, something isn’t quite right! Back you! I am the master here! Don’t move! The slightest movement, and I’ll transform you into a serpent! You are the serpent then? It is me! I wanted to meet you! Because together, we can become the masters of the world! I have the secret of rays that can make men ten times stronger! And I have power to transform anyone into monstrous reptiles! Page 8: Two days later, the two master criminals rob a pet store. That’s it! I have the lizards. Let’s hurry! Henceforth we shall be known as the Pet Shop Boys! And back in their new laboratory… A lizard is a type of reptile that I can command. Let me do it Krait! My rays will work Marvels! A few minutes later, a monstrous beast is standing before them! Skur! Ah! Look at our power and despair! Extraordinary! Let’s see if he will obey! Creech and Krait appear amazed by the result! What a menacing appearance! It is a monster, a monster that I will control! Page 9: Back! Back! Obey the orders of your master! Immediately, the monster lays on the ground. Marvelous Krait! But will he obey in other circumstances? You doubt my Power? Let’s try it on you! You threaten me!? I can transform you into a white eye that obeys me with a finger, do you hear? Ha, ha! A mere jest, my friend! We must join our exceptional forces! Krait became serious. I have little work to do. This man you want to make disappear, this Timms. Creech’s eyelids flutter for a second. Timms, ah yes. I forgot all about him. Page 10: With a sneer, Creech directs his rays at the monster, and it retransforms into a harmless lizard! Let’s recover Mister Timms. Come my beautiful Lizard! I promise you Timms for dessert! Meanwhile, Don and Nick comeback to see their friend Timms. Bizarre! Timms isn’t in the habit of leaving his door open. Quick, let’s go in and see what’s happening. They find Timms lying on the ground. And on closer inspection… No! No! It’s not possible! The curse of the white eyes! Page 11: It is serious! This means Creech is still alive! We must notify the police! And get Timms out of here! Timms seems totally unconscious. Beware Nick, Creech must be close by. Indeed. Here, Look! With that other mannequin that we dragger from the river! Quick, let’s go out the back door. If they see us, we’re cooked! When Creech and Krait enter the House. What? Flown? Timms couldn’t have left all by himself. He did not have the strength. One moment! Page 12: Look! The two boys! Pass me the lizard! He will be the instrument of my vengeance! And while Nick and Do are in train with their friend. Timms is already a white eye! A Zombie! I could order him to destroy these boys! Certainly, certainly! But the lizard is so much more spectacular! And Creech pulled out his amazing Ray device. Go ahead! Turn it into a giant reptile! And I will prove my power to command the reptiles! But... What are you doing? I’m changing Timms back to normal, so he can be terrorized by the attack of the Lizard. Page 13: Timms convulsed and almost fell over. What is going on? Timms, you have become yourself again! There it is! I remember! Creech is back! What a nightmare! Only Creech could return you to normal! He must still be around! Stand aside Krait! The show begins! Look at this! Those two get along like thieves at a fair! Let's go! Fast! BUT: Grah! Turn around, my beautiful creature! Take a good look at the enemies you must destroy! Page 14: The ground trembles as the giant reptile lurches forward! Hiss! It is hard to believe! Another Creech invention! How can we escape him> He has the strength of a dinosaur! Hiss! Rip! The three friends run straight ahead, without the faintest idea of where they are going. Ah! The ground is slippery, there is nothing to cling to. Ah! A cliff is ahead of us! All three of them fall and roll on the ground. Ah! We’re going to fall! Page 15: Forever followed by the ignoble reptile… Hiss! Which in turn, slides along the slippery rocks behind Timms, Don and Nick! Skar! Ah! Hiss! Page 16: Luckily, the three amigos Were stopped at the first rock outcropping. Ugh! This is horrible! By a miracle we have been saved. But Timms has been struck on the head. Ah! A spectacular end for those three idiots, Krait! I told you that I could command the reptile. Listen krait! We are going to create an army of lizards, snakes and toads which I will transform into giants, thanks to my rays! And I will command it to sow terror! Page 17: At that moment. Poor Timms! What a shock he received! His breathing is labored! We absolutely must get him out of here and to a hospital. But how? Help me up Nick! You watch over him, while I search for help. Page 18: The business is perilous but Don is determined to achieve his goal. I must have a good hold! Provided these two lascars are not nearby. Phew! I’m there. I’ll get what I need from Timms house. Ten minutes later he returned with a rope, a hammer and a stake. He pounds the stake into the earth. I’m going to throw you a rope Nick! Attach it under your armpits before climbing! A few minutes later, Nick and Don haul up their friend. How are you doing? Careful not to slip Nick! Page 19: The main road is five hundred meters from here. We will find a car to take us into town. After dropping Timms at the hospital, we will run to the police station. But then. Creech? The white eyes? A giant reptile? Come on, come on, what do you take me for? But its true monsieur inspector. We could not invent such a story! And there was another man with Creech! An ugly man with a nasal voice. Perhaps an Australian. Perfect, we are going to see the commissioner. But I warn you, if you lie, it will be a bad quarter hour. Page 20: What is the point Nick? They will not believe us. And these two monsters are at large? Who knows what they will invent next? You will explain everything to the commissioner, since you are so sure of yourself. He will never believe us Don! And that was naturally what happened. How can you prove that Creech is still alive? We have reported the strict truth monsieur commissioner! We must act quickly! The commissionaire is enraged when. Don points to a photograph on the wall and exclaims. That’s is him! The other man that was with Creech! WHAT? But that is absolutely impossible! Page 21: Right away the commissioner grabs the telephone. Get me inspector manning, it is extremely important. And that’s how Nick and Don found themselves in the Police officer in charge of the Krait affair! Mat I present Mark Bowen! He was Kraits assistant. We’re all ears. We will tell you everything, down to the minutest detail. The story Nick and Don tell convinces the two men totally. I shall create a gigantic cordon enclosing your estimated location of Creech and Krait. Make sure the army helps! Their usefulness is immeasurable! I will order a helicopter and take these two boys with us. At the same time, alone in their lair. What do you think of the chair Cheech? Is it convenient? I am delighted, it is the last word! I move like a normal being. Page 22: Ha-Ha-Ha! I can even descend the staircase! Thump! Bump! In this case, we can move anywhere, I can’t wait to try it out. Pick up the specimens Krait! The entire Village would tremble in fear is it was aware of our plans. Krait fills a box with Lizards. Come, come, and advance towards the master of all reptiles. Suddenly, the roar of a helicopter is upon them! Take cover Krait! No one must see us! Page 23: Do not worry, my friend. Who would be interested in two harmless old men! However. LOOK THERE! LOOK THERE! Aim over there. At the first attempt! What luck! All units in location, Encirclement! Five, four, three, two, one. I repeat encirclement! On the ground, Krait knits his eyebrows and frowns. Those two boys, with my old enemies from the past, Brown and Manning! Page 24: Release the Lizards! Quickly, quickly! I will direct my rays upon them. They will bring us those demons in that helicopter. Inspector Manning continues to give orders. Assemble yourselves and tighten the cordon. Attention, Manning here! They are preparing something below! Quickly Krait, quickly! Release the lizards! Three little lizards are set free and subjected to the fantastic Rays! Zap! Come on, my little ones, you have to GROW, GROW LARGER! Page 25: Gar! Snurfa! Slurp! The pilot abandons control of the helicopter, and Manning ceases to give orders! By the great ghost of Caesar! What are those monsters called? We have to escape! Krait commands monsters! Advance my lizards! Destroy the enemies of your master! Like creatures of a horrible nightmare, the Reptiles pursue their prey! Higher Manning! Climb even higher! But Manning seems paralyzed with fear! They climb into the void! One of the Lizards touches the helicopter! Page 26: Slurp! Indeed, a slight lick to the fuselage boom of the Helicopter… The passengers are knocked about, but Manning regains control of the aircraft. On the Ground, Creech and Krait are Jubilant! Fascinating! Magnificent! They will see that we are serious now. Crouching on the ground, one of the Lizards concentrates its energy into a strike with its tail against the aircraft. Ah! Look! Page 27: At just that instant, shots are heard, and grenades are thrown. Boom! Skrak! Ah! Our men surround them! Don’t Hesitate! Arrest Creech and Krait! The two fools saw the danger. We must flee! Bad luck about the helicopter. The reptiles must open a way for us! To me, my beautiful lizards! This Way! You must help us now. Obeying the power of Krait, the two monsters advance under the gunfire. That is very good! Continue! Help us to escape! Page 28: But the soldiers have nerves of steel! Parker, Jenkins, there is no point shooting, nothing touches them. Then, heavy artillery rounds detonate and burst around them. Tak! Tak! Boom! Finally, Manning, Don and Nick see the reptiles crashing to the ground. Bravo! They fall! Yes, but the weight of their bodies rolls them towards the soldiers. The soldiers are indeed swept in all directions. Out of the Way! Argh! Crush! Crunch! Squelch! Page 29: Keep Moving Krait! Forward! We will get through this! Vroom! The two criminal masterminds hurtle away on the wheelchair. A man tries to stop them, but Krait knocks him down. Crack! Thung! DOG! You can do nothing against us! While, from the Helicopter. Hello, Hello, This is Manning. They are getting away, they are getting away, heading south! We must not lose sight of them. Of course Nick! Do not worry! The inspector has one more trick up his sleeve! A place to finally intercept them. We have two tanks. In two minutes, they will be in action. Page 30: Indeed, as Creech and Krait motor away. The devil! Look there! We don’t have any time to operate on Lizards. You will have to think of something else! Creech stops immediately. Perfect! Be reasonable, and we won’t shoot! Poor idiots! They are ignorant of the power of my rays! But, I hope you don’t turn them into giants Creech! On the contrary, on the contrary, ha-ha-ha! Thrash! And the rays burst forth! Page 31: Ah! What is this? What is happening? We have become smaller! Blinded by the rays, the soldiers continued to fire. You see Krait! It works! These cretins are getting smaller and smaller! Oh No! No! The soldiers continue to shrink! What is happening to all of us! Page 32: Look carefully Krait! One of them will shoot at us, his bullet will disappear into the atmosphere. Suddenly there was nothing. You are a genius Creech! They have become invisible to the naked eye! Ah! What adventures they will live! They will fight like tiny insects! They will fall into the crevices that are like abysses! Without them, I could rule the world! What for? A world without slaves? Page 33: Bursting out in sinister laughter, the two men escape on their fantastic wheelchair. And above all, we must not quarrel Krait. From their helicopter Nick, Don and the others did not comprehend what had happened. Look, there are the tanks! The men had to conduct Creech and Krait to headquarters. But the response from headquarters surprised them. The colonel has completely lost contact with them! We had better descend Mark, but for heaven’s sake be careful. There is no one left in the tanks! Suddenly, Nick picks up a rifle that had partially escaped the effects of the rays. Look! This rifle, look at the size it has been shrunken to! Page 34: So, they guess the ugly truth. Creech possesses a ray that can change man and beast into giants. And to shrink them to even make them disappear! But then Creech and Krait have escaped. In order not to spread panic, Inspector Manning decides to keep the adventure a secret. We will have to keep quiet and follow the sequence of events. For now, and action would be risky. Ten kilometers away, life continues as normal in the small village of Tanbury. Good morning postman! It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it? Well I’m quite worried about the storm. Page 35: Everything was calm in the municipal library. When suddenly, against all expectations. Crunch! Splat! What is going on? The building is collapsing! And in the middle of the stones and rubble appeared a gigantic toad. Gurk! Guruck! Page 36: In vain, the people attempt to run away. Ah! Everything collapses! Things fall apart, the center cannot hold! Look at that monster, it’s the biggest one of those I have ever seen! Skrunck! Crunch! Slurp! An invasion of space monsters! Run away! Run away fast! Page 37: On a nearby hill, Creech and Krait rejoice at the spectacle. Go ahead! Destroy! Crush everything! Ah! Ha-ha! In a few minutes everything will be in ruins! Can you imagine Krait! The panic there must be there! We are the masters of the universe! At the police station of the little village. This is sergeant Walters in Tanbury. Horrible things are happening here! It is terrifying! Ah! Crunch! Page 38: The news reaches Manning and Bowen. But that’s not here from here! Let’s go! And these two young boys, inspector? Sorry! But we can’t involve you in these events! But here we are! And from the start! You can’t exclude us like this! Ah! But we must! It’s too dangerous! Out! What a story! I am furious! Don’t worry I know a short cut! We will arrive at the same time in Tanbury! Advancing through the fields, the two friends stop suddenly. Oh look Nick! A gift shop! GREAT GODS! CREECH AND KRAIT! Page 39: Monsieur Bowen and Inspector Manning will be happy after all when we give them this information. Excellent! They have to be stopped! But a twig snaps under Nick’s feet! What? Those two kids again! Turn around! Creech and Krait motor towards Nick and Don! This time, they won’t escape us! I will direct my rays on them, and they will die! Page 40: Nick and Don start running! We need to warn Bowen and inspector Manning! Behind them, Creech fumes! I cannot have them in my way! Calm down, my friend. There are bumps in the chair, and trees that get in the way. Suddenly a falcon crossing the sky gives Krait a diabolical idea. Stop Creech! Direct your rays on that falcon. But, but, you cannot control the birds! No! But the falcon is a predator, and transforming into a giant, he can attack the two boys. Page 41: Immediately the rays from Creech sweep the sky and an immense shadow falls on Nick and Don! Nick! Oh No! We are caught! Where can we hide! While the giant bird descends on them, Nick grabs a pebble the size of a small ball, and throws it at him. Page 42: The pebble hits the bird on the beak, and unbalances it. Run quick! Nick and Don arrive on the main highway. Look Nick! Its Inspector Manning’s car! They have seen us! In a second Manning is out of the car. Bang! Pop! Stand aside, young boys. Page 43: A revolver shot, and the bird falls heavily from the sky. So little fools! We had recommended that you go home! But! But! We saw Creech and Krait! We followed them! Where are they? I don’t see them! No doubt, this huge bird is there work. We have to get our hands on them! In fact, the two men are only a few meters from them… We have all four of them Creech! Do you realize! All four at once! A moment Krait! Be patient. I will focus my device at one point. Page 44: A second later, and Creech presses the button of his diabolical machine. My darlings, I will reduce them to grains of powder. They will flow like sands through the hour glass, for the rest of the days of their lives. Sparkle! Zap! Crackle! For a few seconds, the four friends do not realize what is happening to them, and then. Hello! The car is getting bigger! But no! It is we who are shrinking! Its Creech again and his Rays! Don and Nick approach the Car. But this car is enormous! It’s as big as a whale, and seats about twenty! No way! I am telling you, it is us who are becoming smaller! Page 45: Ha-Ha-HA! Look Krait! They become microscopic! Manning is the first to react. Run away, before they make us disappear completely! We will have to hide in a safe place! This cave would be a good choice! Quickly, inside! Page 46: And once inside. Oh Look! Great Gods! This cave is the lair of some animal! Page 47: The beast resembles a rabbit, but it has the eyes of a ferret. Don’t move! Stay especially still! These little animals attack anything that moves! But we cannot go out! Creech and Krait are waiting for us outside! I have my revolver, I will shoot. But just at the moment Manning is about to pull the trigger, the beast rushes at them. Guh! Page 48: Don grabs a big stone, and Come on, Youi Big thing! Wham! The ferret rolls to the end of the cave. Oh look! The cave is collapsing! The stones crumble with a deafening noise! We are imprisoned! Page 49: At the same time. Those miserables! They have slipped between our fingers. Ah! No matter, they cannot do us any harm, tiny as they are. They will never return to their normal size! The four trapped friends examine the collapse with the aid of inspector Manning’s flashlight. What are we going to do? How are we going to get out of here! Nick is the first to regain his wits. What a mess we are in! Everyone knows rabbits dig holes! Surely there is another way out. They advance into the dark. Damn! Look at that millipede! Fortunately, he fears us! He looks like a giant serpent! Page 50: If it is a snake, Krait has the power to control it! AH, those! You will have to find them. But what can we do against them, small as we are? We must get our hand on that infernal machine of theirs, otherwise we shall stay small forever. In the ruined city, Creech and Krait rejoice at their success. In this dust that was a city, here we are, we’re sitting pretty! It is destruction! Chaos! We can cause it anywhere, anywhere! London, Moscow, New York can become our targets. Do you realize we have achieved the impossible! The governments of all countries will tremble! But they will gain nothing by resisting! Nothing! Page 51: Raising his head, Krait gives a long whistle in the direction of his reptiles. You did a beautiful job, my friends. Come closer, and return to your normal size. Then, Creech shines his rays on the monsters, and. Ha! Ha! They are rendered harmless. Now we can go home to study our plans. But one man who has known Creech for a long times has just left the hospital. He drives alone, and listens to the radio. What? Huh? Everyone has left town? But I am not afraid. I would love to meet these two characters. That man is Timms, The companion of Nick and Don, the only one with the power to calm the panic that has gripped the region. Behold the village! But the reptiles have gone. I have to find Creech and Krait! Page 52: Two hundred meters from Timms car. Finally, the exit! A way out you say? A way out? I thought we would never get there. But our troubles are not over. We do not even know where we are. Look, we are at the entrance to the village. With hope, Creech and Krait are still here. Just then a warning noise advertises itself. Great Gods! Trying to run from the monstrous engine, Don slips close to the wheels. Ah! Page 53: The car slows down. Argh! Manning draws his revolver and aims at the wheel. Put! Le bang! The tire bursts! Bang! And the automobile comes to a halt. Screech! Page 54: Don, who do you feel? All good, inspector Manning. When the driver gets out of the car. Don! Look! It is Mister Timms! Reduced to the size of commix division, the small friends recognize their friend. Timmy look down here! Squatting down, Timms can hardly believe his eyes. Is this the work of Creech! Do you know he and Krait demolished the village? Of course! Timms, you are our only hope! He is right mister Timms! Page 55: We must recover him if we want to return to our normal proportions. And small as we are, we can approach them without them noticing! At the same time, in the ruins of Tanbury. What do you suggest that we do now Krait? A telephone call to the Prime Minster. I’m sure he’ll want to see us. He will try and use force against us. Of course! But we can transform their soldiers to the size of dwarves! And we can send giant toads against London! Suddenly! Thwack! Argh! What was that? Someone threw a pebble! I thought the entire village ran away in panic! Me! I’m not afraid of your monsters! Creech! Here is a madman who must be pursued and destroyed! Bah! Leave this poor idiot. Page 56: No! I will transform myself into a reptile! Allow me to take this man Creech. I will destroy him! The incredible potion transforms Krait in a glance. Argh! I am changing! On the other side of the wall. My trick worked! I caught their attention! Perfect Timms! Occupy Krait, while we sneak up on Creech’s wheelchair unobserved! Page 57: Careful Timms! Krait is behind you! Stay here, but don’t get caught! Krait is transformed into a reptile! Watch out for the ring! She sends her venom! Timms begins to run, making as much commotion as possible! Argh! You cannot escape me! Page 58: Suddenly, flexing his muscles, Krait jumps like a toad! Great gods! Timms finds himself in a courtyard, surrounded by rubble. I am a prisoner, the stones are unpassable. There is no sign of Krait, only his voice reaches Timms. Ha-ha-ha! Have you ever heard of the Chameleon, that’s takes the color of his surroundings? I am here! No! No! Stop poor fool, I am coming. Page 59: Timms jumps into a hollow behind the pile of rubble. I must hide, he has extraordinary power! But no barrier can prevent Krait from passing! I hiss saw you! Hiss! I will follow you! Creech starts to become impatient. Krait! Krait! Stop! Stop being stupid we have more important matters to attend to. He does not see the four tiny shadows that slide towards him. Krait? Do you hear me? Come back. Keep going Creech! continue! An above all, don’t look around you! Page 60: A few minutes later, the four little adventurers are on the wheelchair. Ouf! It is difficult to climb on this slippery surface! And when Krait returns empty handed, they are again safe. He ran away! But it is of no consequence. When he tells of his adventure, he will sow panic around him! And off they motor on their wheelchair. It is good Krait! Now to serious matters. We will be masters of the Universe! The masters! Nothing can stand in our way! Nothing but us! We are in the mouth of the wolf! But our luck is holding! End of this episode!

Rahan. Episode Two. The Crazy Horde. A Puke (TM) Comic. Rahan. Episode Two. The Crazy Horde. Page 1: The gigantic wave rose up into the sky, and seemed immobilized for an instant above Rahan, then the mountain of water crumbled. Ah! Rahan will escape you, as he escaped your sisters! The ridiculous battle cry was drowned out by the crash of the waves. The skiff tumbled, broke up and disappeared under the torrent of foam. And Rahan, stunned, was carried away by these logs to which he had attached himself at the beginning of the storm. Page 2: Rahan doesn’t want to die! Rahan wants to see the sun again! Tangled under the raft, Rahan has only a few seconds to free himself. His ivory knife severed the cords. The wreckage passing over him hid the day. Ah! The great desert of water will not smother Rahan. When he burst out into the open, still gasping, the storm was passing. But the monsters that worried him so much, and that disappeared with the storm, were already reappearing here and there. The fishermen of the clan of black men know how to face this. Fish! But Rahan does not know, Rahan does not dare. Ah! Vlouf! Struck by a splinter of bark, his cutlass had just been torn from his belt. A brief yellow flash. The weapon of ivory disappeared in to the depths. Page 3: Without his knife, Rahan would not last for long. Rahan cannot survive without his knife. The son of Crao remembers when he braved the darkness and then escaped from the lake hunters, after stealing their leader’s marvelous knife. Those of the lake had said that the forest had been barren twice by the time Grahar had finished polishing the knife. If Rahan does not retrieve it, he will never find another like it. He still hesitated. Should he let himself be carried away to the land he could see in the distance? Or brave the big black fish that prowled around the skiff? The desire to recover the precious weapon won. He buried his head in his arms, as he had seen the men of the river do. Ra! Page 4: Rahan may be crazy for acting like this. The desert of water is perhaps endless, like the sky! Rahan will get nowhere. He had no time to be surprised by the aquatic landscape that he was discovering for the first time. Oh, what can Rahan do without his knife? The shark spirals around him, twisting around. Rahan caught a glimpse of the sharp teeth, and an idea occurred to him. Rahan also has teeth! Teeth and Claws! Flattening himself against the shark, he felt his collar. His fingers clenched on the sharpest of the claws, once torn from the giant mountain bear. Rahan will cut you. The claw lacerates the white belly. If this wound was not enough to kill the monster, a stream of blood nevertheless gushed forth. Page 5: Attracting the other sharks who, a few seconds later, argue over the shredded flesh of their fellow. They forget Rahan! Oh! The knife! Rahan learned that day that the desert of water unlike the sky had an end. And strange vegetation grew on its floor. The sharks were still killing each other in the distance, when he hoisted himself on the wreckage. Rahan is thirsty, very thirsty. He will find water on this land. Stirring the waters, as the black men had taught him, he paddled towards the shore. Why? Why? Why kill him Taar? Because you must. If he discovers our secret. He, He, He will reveal it to all those who “walk end to end.” Page 6: Rahan heard the whistle of the arrow, and threw himself on the sand. But. Ha-ha-ha! Where is the clumsy child who fires at Rahan? The arrow had stopped twenty paces from him. Angry cries broke out, and two men appeared. Taar will kill you! They walked upright but in the strangest of ways. One step left, one step right. They leaned on each other and sometimes staggered to the point of falling. Rahan did not come to your land as an enemy! Advance no further! Taar will crush you! They looked Robust, and Rahan was apprehensive about hand to hand melee. The colossi lurked forward at the same time. But did not reach their goal. One of the two men ploughed his way into the beach. Ah! Page 7: Rahan, with a single push, sent the one named Taar to join him. Ha-ha-ha! The enemies of Rahan have legs as hollow as reeds! His knife in hand, he waited for the counter attack. Stand up limp-legged men! Stand up! Rahan is ready for combat! But they remained there, paralyzed by stupor. Slumped over on each other, his two adversaries had fallen asleep! Rahan did not strike them, and they are knocked out! But maybe it's a trick that Rahan doesn't know yet? It was not a ruse, because the two men did not react when Rahan tied them up. As soon as Rahan finds food, he will build a new raft. And set out again on the great desert of water. Under the palms of nearby trees hung clusters of strange hairy fruits. Page 8: A moment later, Rahan was racing. These fruits are as hard as the rocks of Mont Bleu. Clock! Clock! Disgusted, furious he threw some of the giant nuts on the ground. His anger was such that his knife escaped him. Ah! He quickly descended from the tree, and remained still. What amazed him was not that the fruit had burst on a flat stone, Oh! But that his knife was stuck in the sand, up to the hilt! How is it possible that the knife sticks itself? Never before had Rahan used his weapon other than firmly held in his hand. It fell from above. It spun several times and, and, it planted itself. Page 9: Amused by the discovery, he repeats the experience. As luck would have it, the knife, thrown in the air, planted itself once again. Zlop! Rah! If the knife sticks in the sand, it can also stick in the flesh! Can Rahan kill game without approaching it? Forgetting his captives, Rahan practiced on a palm tree. Skillful, intuitive, he quickly understood that it was necessary to project the weapon in a certain way. Zlang! Rah! Zloc! Dependent upon the distance, he gives it a certain rotation so that at the end of its course the point arrives first on the target. He had just thrown his knife again, when the horde burst from the thickets. He killed our brothers! Kill! Kill! Let us avenge Taar! Page 10: Rahan had no time to jump towards his knife, so far from him. Disarmed, he was overwhelmed by the pack. Kill! Kill! Hands held him down. Others brandished formidable spears. Stop! Save the man who came from the water! Taar and his companion had straightened up. And curiously enough, they were no longer swaying. Taar was at his mercy and he could have killed me. But he did not do it! He deserves to live! The horde released Rahan, who went to recover his knife and cut the bonds of Taar. Rahan came as a brother. Why did you shoot an arrow at him? What arrow? The bewildered Taar seemed sincere as he crouched to examine the arrow. Rahan looked on, unsure what to think. Oh I understand! Taar drank too much at the red source! He who drinks too much from it no longer knows what he is doing. Page 11: The red source? Come! Taar will lead you to the marvelous source. The leader of the horde was already leading Rahan in the forest. A little later. This hill was covered with trees. The fruits were so numerous that it appeared as red as blood! But an avalanche has ravaged everything. For days the rocks felled the trees, and crushed the fruits that were more numerous than the leaves in the forest. And the blood of the fruits flowed in rivulets down the mountain. This pond, long since dried up, has been filled with this marvelous beverage that you see! Drink Rahan! Do like them! You'll feel stronger, bolder! Rahan listened, confused. The clan gather near the reddish pool, like a thirsty heard around a water hole. Page 12: Rahan was thirsty. He drank a sip, then a second, a third. This drink burns your mouth and throat! Rahan doesn't like fruit blood! Taar and his men drank greedily, they laughed and shouted for no reason. Rahan understands why Taar had hollow legs and why he shot his arrow so poorly. Cursed is the drink that clouds the sight. Rahan had taken a few sips, and although the sun was shining brilliantly. The horde appeared to him, as through the mist that sometimes floats over the swamps. Stop! Drink no more! Fruit blood makes you weaker than a child! Stop! Stop! But the men were not listening to his exhortations, and drank and drank. Some quarreled stupidly, others gesticulated like monkeys. Others staggered before collapsing on the ground. Don’t drink anymore Taar! Page 13: Taar is the chief! Taar does not take orders from the man who came from the water! Brutally pushing Rahan aside, Taar plunged his face back into the thick red liquid. Rahan thought to himself that, if an enemy were lying in wait, these fools would be defeated without even a chance to defend themselves. Rahan felt only a slight uneasiness. But in prudence, he hoisted himself into the fork of a tree. The blood of the fruits makes you sleep. Rahan will never drink it again. He was about to fall asleep, when cries resounded near the red pond. A woman. A woman was indeed running from one man to another in despair. Wake up! Wake Up Taar! An animal is in the camp! Page 14: He ransacks our huts! He will kill our children! Your Children! The men groaned and grunted, but none regain consciousness. The woman recoiled in fear when she saw Rahan. Useless woman! The blood of the fruits has got the better of their senses! What do you want from me? Who, who, are you? What does it matter, woman! Take me to your camp! Let us not stay and stare at each other, I want to help you! What will you do alone against the animal? A moment later cries of terror interspersed with terrifying rumblings reached Rahan. We are here! May the great hut have withstood the animal. Look! It has already broken into the huts! I managed to escape while the other women and children took refuge in Taar's hut! Page 15: A huge tiger clawed furiously at the log wall. He had already broken into the most fragile huts. Grr! Vrang! If the big hut collapses, the animal will massacre the children. Rahan knew what carnage would ensue from an unrestrained tiger of this size. He knew that only one thing could calm the enraged monster. The death he threw. Ra! The wall suddenly collapsed. Rahan could see the terrified faces within. Grr! Rahan knew that if he could not divert the fury of the beast onto himself, the children would be lost. Abandoning their now vulnerable refuge, the women and children fled into the forest. Do not stay together! Spread out! Page 16: The giant beast bounded behind the refugees, and Rahan bounded behind it. A child suddenly stumbled, and a woman, without doubt his mother, threw herself on him to protect him. Gr! Ra! Ra! Rahan roared as he jumped onto the back of the tiger. A cloud of dust enveloped the struggling man and monster. Never has Rahan confronted an animal as great as you! But you will not kill Rahan! Rahan grabbed one of the gigantic canines and twisted the terrifying mouth away from his chest! The other hand was striking randomly. But a claw suddenly tore his weapon arm. Under the blow, the weapon flew twenty paces. Page 17: The women watched the combat anxiously from a distance. Who is this man Maraha? I do not know. He was with the others near the red pond. But alas, ours were senseless as usual. Rahan had just freed himself and the giant tiger gazed with a certain amazement at this prey that had resisted him so fiercely. A wounded animal never gives up the fight. If Rahan does not strike him in the heart, Rahan will die. The two adversaries ready themselves at the same time. The man to seize the arrow he had just seen, the beast to leap. The fragile arrow breaks in the chest of the monster. The new injury increases its fury tenfold. He made a fantastic leap while disengaging, turned around in an instant and renewed the attack. Page 18: Hitting a root, Rahan fell on his back near a copse. His raging cry turned into a clamor. Ra! Within reach of his hand, His knife hung suspended on a branch of the copse! He saw the tiger relax. The terrible claws and teeth. The white underbelly where lay the beating heart. He threw the knife. The ivory blade disappeared into the coat. The handle turned as red as the blood of the fruits. And the monster rolled over at the feet of Rahan. Struck down. Come back! Come back! You have nothing more to fear from the animal. Rahan as slain the beast with knife teeth! The faces of the women relaxed. Page 19: They released their children, who ran towards Rahan, assailing him with their joy. Rahan is strong and cunning! Only Taar could have done what Rahan has done. The leader of the horde appeared, followed by a few of his men. But Taar did not! Taar slept while his loved ones were in danger! He approached with an uncertain step. Without Rahan, the animal would have slaughtered your son, Taar! Rahan was right, the blood of the fruit is cursed. Taar thanks the man who came from the water. Rahan is welcome for as long as he wants. If he wishes, he can be of this clan! But the son of Crao could not stay long on this island. Were there not other unknown lands that were waiting for him? Why leave Rahan? Because Rahan wishes to taste everything, to know everything! Page 20: He had learned of the sea floor of the desert of water. And of the wood skinned fruit he had never seen. He had discovered that you could throw your knife like this! But above all, he learned that those who walk upright must beware of the blood of the fruit! Taar also learned this! When Rahan left the island some time later, the sound of an avalanche reached him. Taar and his hunters blocked up the source of the red liquid. Their voices are clear and their legs are strong! The horde can depend upon them again. Rahan answered the salutes of the clan until the land disappeared into the distance. He let himself be carried away by the currents, towards the distant horizon. Rahan contemplated that there are other worlds, other men with unknown customs, and other mysteries. Rahan will discover them! Thus thought Rahan, the son of fierce ages. Hundreds of thousands of years ago, at the dawn of man.

The Turner Diaries, Chapter 22. A Puke(TM) Audiobook Chapter Twenty-two. July 19, 1993. For the past five days I've been witnessing what surely must be one of the biggest mass migrations in history: the evacuation of the liberals and mestizos and "boat people" from southern California. We've been marching them to the east at a rate of better than a million a day, and there still seems to be no end to them. I learned at our unit meeting this evening, however, that tomorrow is expected to be the last full day of evacuation. After that, it'll just be a matter of sending them across the lines in batches of a few thousand at a time, as we round up strays and finish separating some areas which are still racially mixed. My men and I have had the responsibility of finding transportation for those unable to make the trek on foot. We started with flatbed trucks and large tractor-trailer rigs able to haul a couple of hundred people at a time, and we ended up using every delivery van and panel truck we could find in or near the evacuated liberal and Chicano neighborhoods: nearly 6,000 trucks altogether. At first we tried to do a careful job of making sure each truck had just enough fuel in its tank to make the one-way trip into enemy territory, but that took too long, and so we settled for trying to be reasonably sure that each vehicle had at least enough fuel for the trip. Late yesterday we began running out of trucks, and so all day today we have been using passenger cars. I broke up the roughly 300 men under me into squads of 10. Each squad rounded up approximately 50 young liberal volunteers-with the promise of food-who claim they are experienced at jumping the ignition on cars. Then our squads began ferrying every parked car, from Volkswagens to Cadillacs, which can be started and whose fuel gauge indicates at least a quarter of a tank of gasoline, into the packed debarkation areas. There our liberal car-thief volunteers hustle a pregnant Negress or an elderly cripple behind the wheel, pack the vehicle with as many picaninnies and miscellaneous lame, sick, and halt non-Whites as it can possibly carry-sometimes piling them on roofs and fenders- and send it on its way. Then back for more cars. I have been surprised to see how callous our volunteer liberals are toward their own people. Some of the older liberals, who haven't been able to fend for themselves, are obviously near the point of death from starvation and dehydration, yet our volunteers handle them so roughly and pack them so tightly into the cars that it makes me flinch to watch them. When one overloaded Cadillac started onto the eastbound freeway with a lurch this morning, an ancient Negro lost his grip and fell off the roof, landing headfirst on the pavement and crushing his skull like an egg. The liberals who had just loaded the car roared with laughter; it was apparently the funniest thing they've seen in a long time. Our logistics have been terrible. We've violated every security rule in the book and taken some extraordinary risks. There were hundreds of times when the liberals could have jumped us, because we were spread so thin and often obliged to work deep within their jam-packed enclaves without backup personnel to rescue us in the event of trouble. I really don't have enough men to handle this job properly, and we've all been working at least 18 hours a day, often not stopping to rest until we're so tired we're stumbling. It's a good thing tomorrow is the last day, because I don't think my men can last much longer-or our luck either. What we've accomplished so far is really quite remarkable, though. We've moved out approximately half a million non-Whites who couldn't possibly have made it on foot. Each and every one of these is now the responsibility of the System-to feed and house and clothe and keep out of trouble. Together with the seven million or so able-bodied liberals and Chicanos we're sending them, that's quite a responsibility This whole evacuation amounts to a new form of warfare: demographic war. Not only are we getting the non-Whites out of our area, but we're doing two additional things which should pay off for us later by getting them into the enemy's area: we're overloading the System's already strained economy, and we're making life next to intolerable for the Whites in the border areas. Even after the evacuees have been dispersed around the country, they will constitute about a 25 per cent increase in the average nonwhite population density outside California. Even the most brainwashed White liberals should find this increased dose of "brotherhood" hard to swallow. On my way to the unit meeting about an hour ago, I stopped at an overlook above the main evacuation route out of Los Angeles. It was after sunset, but still light enough to see well, and I was awed by the sight of the enormous stream of colored life moving slowly to the east. As far as I could see in either direction, the unwholesome flood crept along. Later we'll switch on the street lamps along the freeway, and the march will go on all night. Then, in the heat of the morning, the evacuation of the able-bodied ones will be reined in enough so that we will have room on the freeway for our vehicles to get through again. We found out at the beginning that when we tried keeping the marchers going during the day they dropped like flies. The sight of that huge, flowing swarm of non-Whites left me with an overwhelming feeling of relief that it was moving away from us, out of our area. And I shuddered with revulsion at the thought of being at the other end of the evacuation route and seeing that swarm moving toward me, into my area. If the System bosses had the option, they'd turn the liberals back at the border with machine guns. But with the border manned with mostly non-White troops, it is pretty hard to give the order to fire on that non-White flood. Since the inundation began, they haven't been able to figure any way to stop it. They are trapped by their own propaganda line, which maintains that each of those creatures is an "equal," with "human dignity" and so forth, and must be treated accordingly. Yes, sir, things are looking up here, and I'm sure they're looking liberaler and liberaler elsewhere! The proof of that is the counterflow of White refugees into our area from the east. From a hundred or so a day 10 days ago, their numbers have grown to several thousand a day. Our border guards have processed a total of more than 25,000 Whites coming across the line, up to this afternoon. Most of these, it seems, are simply running to get away from the liberal troops and the liberal and Chicano evacuees who have flooded the enemy's border areas. If it is easier for them to run west than east, they run west. But about 10 per cent of them are not from the border areas at all. They are White volunteers who have deliberately crossed over to join our fight. Some have come from as far as the East Coast, whole families as well as young men, who made their decision as soon as it became apparent to the country that our revolution has indeed established a foothold here. July 24. Boy! I'm really becoming a Jack of all trades. I just got back to HQ from a repair trip to the big switching station outside Santa Barbara. It's been acting up, knocking out our electrical power here every day or so, and I had to figure out what was wrong and get a repair crew to fix it. I'll certainly be glad when we get the civilian population here organized, so that the people who're supposed to keep the utilities running are back on the job again. But we must do first things first, and that means reestablishing public order and insuring an adequate food supply. We still don't have order, but we're now bringing almost enough food into the metropolitan area to keep the people from starving. I got some insight into how we're managing that during the Santa Barbara trip. In the countryside I passed literally hundreds of organized groups of White youngsters, some working in the orchards and fruit groves, others marching along the road singing, with fruit baskets slung across their shoulders. They all looked tanned and happy and healthy. Quite a difference from the hunger and the rioting in the cities! I had my driver stop as we came abreast of a group of about 20 young girls, all wearing heavy work gloves and miscellaneously dressed in shorts and overalls. Their leader was a freckled 15- yearold with pigtails who happily identified her group as the 128th Los Angeles Food Brigade. They had just finished five hours of fruit-picking and were headed for lunch at their tent camp down the road. Well, I thought to myself, this is hardly a brigade, but obviously a lot more organizing of the civilian population has been going on than I've been aware of. I knew the girl was too young to be a member of the Organization, and, it soon developed, she was totally innocent of any political understanding whatever. All she knew was that things back in the city are frightening and unpleasant, and so when the nice lady with the armband at the emergency food-distribution center had talked to her and her parents and told them that youngsters who volunteered for farm work would be looked after and well fed, they had agreed she should go. That was a week ago, and yesterday she had been appointed the leader of her group of girls. I asked her what she thinks about her work. She said it is hard, but she knows it is important for her and her girls to pick as much fruit as possible, so their parents and friends back in the city will be able to eat. The adults at the camp have explained to them what an important responsibility they have. Had they also been told about the significance of the revolution? No, she doesn't know anything about that, just that the Chicano farm workers have left, and now the White people will have to do all their work. She thinks that is probably a good idea. Other than that, all that the girls have been taught is how to do their particular job-and the work songs and the hygiene lectures in the evenings, around the campfire. Well, that's not a bad beginning for 12- to 15-year-olds. There will be time for their further education later. If only the adults were as cooperative as the kids! The girls did have one complaint: their food. There was plenty of it, but it was all fruits and vegetables; no meat, no milk, not even any bread. Obviously, the people who're organizing the food brigades have a few logistic problems yet to work out too. We swapped the girls half a case of canned sardines and some boxes of soda crackers we had in the car in return for a basket of apples, and both sides felt they had gotten a good deal. Coming through the mountains just north of Los Angeles we encountered a long column of marchers, heavily guarded by GI's and Organization personnel. As we drove slowly past, I observed the prisoners closely, trying to decide what they were. They didn't seem to be liberals or Chicanos, and yet only a few of them appeared to be Whites. Many of the faces were distinctly Jewish, while others had features or hair suggesting a Negroid taint. The head of the column turned off the main roadway into a little-used ranger trail which disappeared into a boulder-strewn canyon, while the tail stretched for several miles back toward the city. There may have been as many as 50,000 marchers, representing all ages and both sexes, just in the portion of the column we passed. Back at HQ I inquired about the strange column. No one was sure, although the consensus was that they were the Jews and the mixedbreeds of too light a hue to be included with the evacuees who were sent east. I remember now something which puzzled me a few days ago: the separation of the very light liberals-the almost Whites, the octoroons and quadroons, the unclassifiable mongrels from various Asian and southern climes-from the others during the concentration and evacuation operations. And I think I now understand. The clearly distinguishable nonwhite are the ones we want to increase the racial pressure on the Whites outside California. The presence of more almost-White mongrels would merely confuse the issue-and there is always the danger that they will later "pass" as White. Better to deal with them now, as soon as we get our hands on them. I have a suspicion their trip into that canyon north of here will be a one-way affair! But obviously there's still a lot of sifting-out to do. We have cleared the all-liberal and all-Chicano areas and certain all-Jewish neighborhoods, but there are still areas, comprising nearly half the urban territory under our control, where utter chaos prevails Jews in these areas, working with reactionary elements among the Whites, are becoming more brazen by the day. There is nearly continuous demonstrating and rioting going on in the worst sections, and the Jews are using leaflets and other means to maintain the general unrest in other sections. Since Friday four of our people have been killed by snipers. Something must be done soon! July 25. A very pleasant contrast today with most of my work of late: I spent the day interviewing some of the volunteers who have crossed into our area since July 4, trying to pick a hundred or so for a special problem-solving group which will begin doing in a regular and systematic way the sort of engineering and logistic chores I and my crew have been stuck with till now. The people I talked to had been pre-screened before they got to me, and they all have an engineering or industrial-management background. There are about 300 men, plus a hundred or so wives and children, which is an indication of the really substantial flow of new blood into our area. I don't know what the total is up to now, but I do know that the Organization has increased its strength in California several times over in the last three weeks- and we are taking as members only a small fraction of the new volunteers. The great majority have either been organized into labor brigades, primarily for farm work, or, in the case of most of the males of military age, put into Army uniforms and given rifles we've salvaged from one of the bombed-out National Guard armories. In the latter way we are gradually increasing the overall reliability, if not the proficiency, of the military force under our control. Many of these "instant soldiers" have had little or no military training, and we haven't had a chance yet to give them any of the ideological preparation which the new Organization members are receiving, yet they are clearly more sympathetic to our cause, on the average, than the regular GI's. We are integrating them into the regular units as rapidly as we can. I queried the people I saw today about their present living arrangements and family situations as well as about their training and work experience. Nearly all of them have been assigned to a block of recently vacated housing in a former liberal area, just south of Los Angeles proper. The Organization has set up a new unit HQ in a small apartment building there, and that's where the interviews took place. There were very few complaints from the people I talked to, although they all mentioned the extraordinarily filthy condition of the buildings into which they have moved. Some of the apartment units are so saturated with filth they are simply not habitable. Everyone, however, has pitched in cheerfully, and the disinfecting, scrubbing, and repainting effort has made a remarkable transformation in just a couple of days. I made a brief inspection tour, and it was heartwarming to see pretty, White children playing quietly where previously hordes of screaming, young liberals had swarmed. A group of about two dozen parents were still working on the grounds around the apartments. They have collected a small mountain of litter: beer cans, cigarette wrappers, empty TV-dinner cartons, demolished furniture, and rusted-out appliances. Two women have marked off a sizable area of barren, thoroughly trampled lawn with stakes and string and are spading up the earth for a community vegetable garden. In windows which had previously known only torn paper shades, bright curtains-improvised from bed sheets and home- dyed, I imagine- have gone up. Fresh flowers are on sills formerly occupied only by empty liquor bottles. Most of these people arrived here with little more than the clothes on their backs, having left everything behind and risked their lives in order to be with us. It's a shame we are unable to do more for them now, but they're the type who are pretty well able to do for themselves. One of the first volunteers I picked this morning was a man to find a suitable truck somewhere and use it regularly for hauling refuse away from the new settlement and bringing in food each day from the nearest distribution point, which is about six miles away. He will be responsible for his own mechanical maintenance and for finding gasoline wherever he can, until we have time to set up a new fuel-distribution system. He is a 60-year-old who formerly owned his own plastics factory in Indiana, but he is happy to be a garbageman here! By the time we get the overall civilian situation whipped into shape, the average population density in our part of California will be a little less than half what it was a month ago. There'll be the greatest plenty of housing for new people coming in, and we'll probably level about half the residential and commercial areas in Los Angeles county, plant trees, and make parkland of them. That lies in the future, though, and for now our aim is simply to settle the new people temporarily in areas well separated from those we haven't pacified and weeded yet. But even the tiny beginning we have already made fills me with joy and pride. What a miracle it is to walk streets which only a few weeks ago were filled with non-Whites lounging at every street corner and in every doorway and to see only White faces-clean, happy, enthusiastic White faces, determined and hopeful for the future! No sacrifice is too great to successfully complete our revolution and secure that future for them-and for the girls of the 128th Los Angeles Food Brigade and for millions of others like them throughout our land!

Rahan, Episode 1 The Secret of the Sun. By Roger Lecureux. Translate by Puke on a Plate. Rahan. Episode one. The Secret of the Sun. Page One: Rahan is still. His hand rests on his Ivory Knife that he stole two moons ago from the chief of the lake clan. Rahan is not afraid of the “Man with the long legs”. If you do not get out of this copse, Rahan will find you! You run long legs, but you will not escape Rahan! You will reveal the secret of the sun. Rahan did not know that this being was not a man, but an animal which we would come to know as a kangaroo, dozens of thousands of years later. Page Two: He was so fast, that he caught up with this marsupial this morning… Your long legs are not so valuable as Rahan’s. Only the sun can escape Rahan. But Rahan will join him soon! I know he is hiding in your country longlegs! Flac! SPEAK! Where is he hiding? Rahan will be thankful if you take me to the lair of the Sun. By the time an odor warns Rahan of a new presence, it is already too late. He didn’t have time to avoid the great swirling butterfly that struck him in the head. Vrang! Ah! Why did he want to kill the Kaga? Let us kill it! We will kill it after we find out where it came from. Page Three: Robust, Rahan recovers his senses. My name is Rahan, Son of Crao, the chief of the blue mountain tribe. My tribe was devoured by the blue mountain many moons ago. One night the blue mountain vomited its bowels of fire and all of my horde perished. The visions of that terrible night assail him once again! Again, he sees himself huddled under a flat rock that protected him from the torrent of lava. The whole clan disappeared. “Crao”, “Raror”, even “Taa”, the dog. Only Rahan was spared by the wrath of the blue Mountain! Rahan was small then, very small. But the clans that he wanted to join have not wanted him! They always shunned him, and pushed him away. Those who walk upright are beasts. Rahan will be a beast. Page Four: And the sole survivor of the horde of the blue mountain was as dangerous as a wild beast. Arh! Killing for defense. Killing for food. Killing for survival. And his clamor of victory erupted so often throughout the great forest. Rah! When these had turned green as many times as the digits of both hands, Rahan, who could have been the leader of the horde, knew nothing of other men, of other worlds… Rahan wants to join the sun. He wanted the long-legged man to lead him to the cave of the flaming god! The kraga is not a man, but a beast! And no one has ever been able to approach the realm of the Sun! Rahan is even stupider than a kaga! Rahan will die! You will not kill Rahan! Page Five: The boomerangs flew towards Rahan as he flew to the woods. He knew how to avoid them, and even captured one in flight. In the forest, Rahan knows how to track the most cunning beasts. Rahan knows how to cover his tracks. But Rahan knew not that "long legs" is an animal. These men are right. Rahan is stupid. Rahan knows nothing. He does not even know how to use this wooden butterfly. Enraged, he threw away the boomerang. And: Oh! It returns! It returns as the dog “Taa” used to return, at the call of his name! Rahan tries ten times, and ten times the marvelous projectile returns to his feet! There are men more ingenious than those of the Blue Mountain, of the river and the lake! And Rahan is ignorant, ignorant of everything. Page Six: Maybe it is true that no one has ever discovered the lair of the Sun God! May be it exists not! His pursuers had been lost long ago, and Rahan, as every evening, was chastened by the Sun. You hide again! But Rahan knows your cave is at the bottom of this desert! Rahan will soon be with you! Since the night when the river of fire had carried away his brothers, Rahan had feared the darkness. Rahan will beg you to shine endlessly. There will be no more night, no more darkness. I know you will court Rahan when he is near you. From his infancy, the son of Crao has pursued the sun. But he only discovers new horizons behind which the flamboyant God unceasingly evades him. Page Seven: Three more times the forests are bare. The sun escapes Rahan, as Rahan escapes his enemies. But Rahan is relentless. Rahan learns to handle his wooden butterfly with more dexterity than those of the river use their stones. But those of the river know how to lie down on the water and glide like fish. Rahan knows this not! In the pursuit of the sun, the rivers are formidable obstacles. Rahan will not stop. Rahan will never stop. Like all of his clan, he is ignorant of swimming. And he wasted long days searching for a crossing. But one Morning. If the trees glide on the water like those in the river, Rahan can use the trees! Page Eight: The trunk onto which he jumps spins on itself, precipitating him into the rapids. Ah! Rah! But another stump, instinctively snatched as it passes, saves him. Rahan moves on the water, like those of the River. With knowledge of how to cross the largest rivers, his march to the sun accelerates. Rahan will soon be near you. What is your secret? Why cannot Rahan, who catches that fastest prey, catch you? Doubt grew within him. The men of the kraga country, where they not right? Was not the cave of the sun god inaccessible to those who walked upright? Page Nine: One thing irritated Rahan: The way in which the sun god mocked his efforts. A hundred times he had the experience of falling asleep, facing the horizon where the sun was hiding. And a hundred times the sun appeared behind him. It is a trick to make me go back! Rahan will not fall into this trap, he will surprise you where you are sleeping, while you are sleeping. Other seasons pass. Rahan crossed other deserts. Other Jungles, facing beings he never knew existed. One evening when he was running towards the red disc of the sun god, stupor and despair invaded him. Is this you lair? The river was so immense that the other side could not be seen. The sun god was slowly sinking into the desert of water. Here ends the land of men and beasts! Here begins the great territory of the Sun God. Page Ten: The sand caressed the shadows and Rahan glimpsed the most curious monsters he had ever seen. They do not attack Rahan. They are not dangerous to him. Indeed, giant tortoises do not attack humans. At dawn, some crawl to the great desert of water. Since these beasts live in the realm of the sun god, they will lead me to him. He straddled one of the monsters, who seemed indifferent to the burden. Rah! Ha-ha-ha! For the first time in his life, Rahan can walk without his legs! Ha-ha-ha Lead me to the Sun, “Round back”, Faster! Faster! Ha-ha-ha! He was still laughing when the tortoise carried him out to sea. Page Eleven: But his laughter was strangled, when the monster suddenly sank beneath the water. Ah! Deprived of his usual raft, Rahan is lost. He flails wildly in the middle of the waves Ah! Rahan does not want this! Not to die without meeting the Sun. His hands and feet first stir the water without order Vlouf! Vuf! Rahan does not want to die! Then in a manner more calm, as he had observed among the men of the river people. Stroke, stroke. And he howled with joy! Rah! Rahan floats on water! Rahan has defeated the water! Page Twelve: His joy of triumph over the hostile element was tarnished by the appearance of the sun. As always, you show yourself on the other side from where I saw you disappear. But Rahan knows part of your secret! He saw you conceal yourself in the desert of water. AND HE DID NOT SEE YOU COMING OUT! It is that you take another trail! The shore is therefore not the end of the land! Beyond these waters exist other lands, and perhaps other men! Rahan wants to know them! For days Rahan was busy. You will carry me to the other side of the desert of water. He constructed a raft more solid than any he had made before. The idea that unknown worlds existed in the depths of the water desert haunted him, now more than the Sun god. The new taunts surprised him. Page Thirteen: Shine where you want! Disappear and reappear where you want! Rahan has wasted too much time chasing you Sun! Rahan, son of Crao, laughs at you! The vengeance he feared did not happen. And Rahan follows that one could defy the gods with impunity. He no longer feared the darkness. One morning, he let himself be taken by the currents. Rahan arrives in unknown lands! Rahan will join you, unknown men! For two days he was carried like this. The men of the river have never seen such fish! But Rahan sees it! Rahan knows more than them. The flying fish that sometimes fell on the raft helped him overcome hunger. And Rahan knows part of your course, Sun! Page Fourteen: He knows that you appear at the bottom of the desert of water and that you fly above to hide on the other side! Indeed, from east to west Rahan can observe the voyage of the sun. But part of this journey remained unknown. But what happens to you beyond the desert of water? Eh! It is on dawn of the third day that land appears, and the current pushes the raft there. It resembles the small mountain where the clan lived. Distant cries arise from the other side of the island. Only “Those who walk upright” make cries like this. Rahan climbs the little mountain. Black men? But why do they pursue each other? Why do they want to kill each other? Page Fifteen: Mounted on rafts lighter and faster than his, the dark skinned men chased each other across the watery desert. Ah! From the ridge where he was in ambush, Rahan dominated the entire island around which the black men chased each other. He was suddenly surprised. The fugitives are now behind those that pursue them! The fugitives are like the sun! YES! They are like the sun which disappears IN FRONT of me and reappears BEHIND Me! The great territory of men and beasts therefore resembles this land. IT IS ROUND, LIKE A FRUIT. And the sun journeys around it and never lands on it. Page Sixteen: Thus at the dawn of humanity a being sketched a vague notion of the world in which he lived. Rahan could not imagine of course that in reality the "Fruit" revolved around the sun. But why don’t they fight? Why do the fugitives in turn become the pursuers? The ways of the black men astounded Rahan, who had never seen men chasing one another without killing each other. They Saw Rahan! They came ashore, but Rahan was not scared of the black men. Rahan had dared launch himself onto the great water desert. Rahan had discovered the secret of the sun. He would face this horde, as Crao would have done. His ivory knife in one hand, his wooden butterfly in the other, Rahan went down to the curious huts where the black men gathered. Page Seventeen: Arriving on the beach, he marched straight towards the enemy as would have his father before him. How will they attack Rahan? Do they not have stone tipped sticks? Will they make Rahan face the strongest of them, as the lake clan did? Or will they attack me all at once, like the cowardly horde of the wood? Rahan was now only thirty paces from the black men. As two of them rushed towards him, he raised his boomerang. He did not have time to throw his returning butterfly before a kind of spiders web fell over him. Page Eighteen: He tries to stand up, but his limbs become entangled in the swarm of vines. Rahan is captured like a fly. And Rahan will die! Black men crowd around him. But their words have nothing in common with the sounds of humans ready to finish off captive game. Free the white man! The clan of fishers salute you, man from afar. Uh? Rahan did not comprehend these words. But as they helped him to free himself, and offered him fruits, he knew he would see the sun again. Page Nineteen: He awoke and slept many times before he assimilated the language of the black men. We would not have caught you like a fish if you did not brandish that thing. Rahan was getting ready to fight. For combat? My brothers never fight. Neither among themselves nor with the clans of the distant islands. What you saw on the day of your arrival was only a game. Our young men often race each other. A GAME? A RACE? Never before had it occurred to Rahan that skill and strength could be used for anything other than hunting and combat. The clans can therefore do something other than kill each other? Men can therefore live with other men like those of his own clan? All of us together are formed into the great horde of “Those who walk upright”? Page Twenty: The revelation fills the heart of Rahan the savage with joy. For the first time in his life, Rahan was welcomed as a brother. Rahan is happy. And then there is no longer clan, no longer horde. Rahan will be the son of all clans, all hordes. Rahan will go everywhere, see everything, and learn everything! He will reveal what he possesses and teach the others. So will live Rahan, in the first age of humanity. In these times where everything is still unknown, dangerous and mysterious for the species of: “Those who walk upright.” SUCH WILL LIVE RAHAN. SUCH WILL LIVE THE SON OF Crao. SUCH WILL LIVE THE SON OF AGES. FEARLESS.

Made with 100% Recycled Clickbait, better for the environment. Remember! With Guilt Credits, you can feel guilty about the environment, and trade them with friends! Just like Indulgences really. Episode Three. The Cursed Island. Page 1: Like any other day, the steamer Jolly Jack transports hundreds of tourists on an excursion to Doomcrag Island. Nick Dexter and Don Redding are among the passengers spending their vacation on Doomcrag Island. Three long weeks! Do you realize? What a dream! We will finally forget the white eyes! To their immense surprise, a familiar face stands out in the crowd. Oh look Don! Monsieur Timms! Hello Mister Timms! Page 2: But, the chemist disappears in the crowd. Strange! Did you see that? Why is he running away from us? Nevertheless, we are friends. A little later, Timms climbs towards old Doomcrag castle. The Boss will reproach me. He wanted me to arrive unnoticed. An in the Grand Hall of the Castle… Patron! I made a mistake. What have you done, you crawling dog? The Patron is none other than Ezra Creech, the one we thought was dead, eaten by a shark. I was recognized by the two young boys, Dexter and Redding. They are here on Doomcrag? And you are surprised? By all the demons reunited! You will pay for this. Page 3: Obeying orders, Timms sits in his chair and attaches himself. I am ready Boss. Perfect! Now Suffer! Under the evil eye and insane laughter of the old man, Timms chair is electrified. I don’t want you to ruin my Plans Timms! After this electrical discharge you will obey y sole will! Now, and whatever comes! Timms gets to work at his beakers and retorts. So, miserable, what are your results? Very soon master, before tonight. Indeed… That’s it? Here is the gas that transforms men into monsters with white eyes one hundred times more powerful than the previous one, and it resists all the antidotes! Page 4: Ezra Creech breathes in the gas, and the transformation is instantaneous! Bah! I’ve won once again! Humanity will tremble! I shall take up the con quest of the world. But first, lets have some fun. A huge rock known as the “Devil’s Balloon” dominates the Village. You will see, poor people down below! Ezra Creech stands by the huge rock, and with one hand… The Devils Balloon rushes upon the peaceful village. Page 5: It lands in the village square. Rumble! Rumble! Don has just enough time to save a baby in a stroller. A few seconds later, a pleasure boat is crushed! Crunch! Page 6: Immediately the passers-by gather around Don. My baby! How can I thank you monsieur? Replied censored. “It is my pleasure Madame”. Say Nick! Do you know where the mass fell from? From the summit, up there. So it was the Devils Balloon up there? How could it fall? It’s been there for centuries! Meanwhile at the top of the mountain, Ezra Creech is Jubilant. Ha, ha, ha! This is just a small start, to start our hand. It is tomorrow that everything will commence. At that instant, a Pidgeon passes in front of a window at the chateau. Page 7: He enters the laboratory, and wets his small beak in a beaker. And the transformation occurs! Next day, the regular scheduled aircraft lands at Doomcrag airport. No one sees the Pidgeon flying over the ground. No one, except the pilot. Ah! Look! Page 8: The small and fragile legs strike the aircrafts wing. Crash! The aircraft crashes and Burns! Emergency help arrives and passengers and crew disembark. The Pidgeon! It’s them! The white eyes! What story is he recounting? Help me. The White eyes! The white eyes? Again? No! No! It is not possible! Page 9: The news spreads immediately in the City. The White Eyes! The White eyes are back! Nick and Don start out to climb the mountain, and hear an explosion. Boom! What else is going on? It’s coming from the airport, look and explosion! But, here, at the point where the Devils Balloon had rested. Do you see those teeth, it’s how the stone was fixed forever. Yes, until yesterday, but who, and why? Suddenly! Don! Look, at the top, on the ramparts! What, my word, its Timms! Page 10: The Chemist looks down sadly on Doomcrag. No! No! He thinks. I cannot go on like this, I’ll tell the boss I’ve had enough! Immediately Timms finds Ezra Creech at his desk. Boss, I don’t want to do this dirty work anymore. What does this mean? The White of Ezra Creech’s eyes shines brilliantly! You will obey my orders you understand! If you protest, you will undergo my treatment! No! No! You can have it! Perfect! Take this vial! You will pour the contents into the water reservoir, and tomorrow, the whole island will be peopled with white eyes! Page 11: Hidden behind the window, Don and Nick have not missed a word. Great Gods! Did you hear that! We must prevent this from happening! When Timms descends towards the village, he is shadowed by the two young men. You there, hold it! Why, wheat is it? A sudden movement, and the vial escapes from Timms hand. Argh! Page 12: And tumbles towards the city! To explode in the courtyard of a primary school! A moment later, all of the schoolchildren are turned into white eyes! Kill! Burn! Destroy! Kill the teachers! Terrified, the teachers barricade themselves in the buildings. Vive les white eyes! One lifts up a teacher’s car. Lift it up, we will tear it to pieces! In a few seconds the school is sacked! Destroy! Destroy it all! Destroy! Page 13: The school children from Cragsby go through the town! To the chocolate factory! Death to all those who oppose the White Eyes! Spreading through the factory, the children gorge on chocolate! Ha! Ha, slurp, slurp! Crunch, Chomp! Argh! Meanwhile, on the heights, Nick and Don Question Timms Why are you in the service of Ezra Creech! He, He Has destroyed my will by his electric treatment! I made a gas much more powerful than the other! Get me out of here so he never finds me! You’re just a poor fool, He has reduced you to nothing! We have to help him Nick! The two friends hide the Chemist in a cave. Page 14: Wait for us here, we will return for you. Thanks Nick. Look Nick, a boat is heading to the Village. The “boat” is in reality a great aircraft carrier. We must seize this chance! Yes, we must make Creech harmless. They go to the aircraft carrier, and then… Can you take us to the Commander? It's a matter of life or death. It’s the white eyes. The White eyes? A few minutes later, the two boys are in the cabin of the commander. You ask me to send aircraft to bomb Doomcrag castle. But you are crazy! You must believe us commander! There is not a second to loose. Ezra Creech took refuge there. Page 15: But from his refuge, Creech had seen the Aircraft Carrier. Ah! This boat can be a menace to me, but I will use it against them! We are going to have some fun, ha, ha. And Creech throws handfuls of grain into the air. Eat! Eat my little children! And become my allies! Squawk! Squawk! Indeed, soon after the birds head towards the planes! Oh Look! Damn seagulls come by the hundreds! Bad luck, look at their eyes! And they fall on the deck, destroying everything Squawk, Squawk! Page 16: From the conning tower, Nick and Don attend the scene. Too late! Creech is faster than us! We have one chance again! Open fire on Doomcrag castle. But, while the marines obey orders and load the guns. Squawk! Ah! It is dramatic! Squawk! Page 17: The aircraft carrier is cut in two! Squawk! Boom! Whoom! Don and Nick are saved with the others. It’s another blow by Ezra Creech! During this time, the one on the tower rejoices at the spectacle. Bravo, my feathered friends. Nothing will prevent me from becoming master of this Island, nothing. Page 18: However, the two boys are able to reach a calm beach. So, what do we do now? Call the police! We must organize an aerial attack against the castle. But the news of the white eyes has made the inhabitants flee. A little boy walks alone on the street. This kid will show us the way Do you know where the police station is? Suddenly the eyes of the boy become white! Nick and Don take to their heels. He belongs to the group of friends. He’s chasing us, we have to act fast! Page 19: Nick climbs into a truck and releases the brake. Quick, run! But to their great surprise, the truck doesn’t move! Ah! And soon the road is blocked by hundreds of the white-eyed kids Beware of intruders! Hunt them down! After them! Page 20: Destroy! Destroy! Let's get in there quick, the building under construction! Don! It's our only chance of salvation. They go up the long steel staircase. What do we do now? CONTINUE UPWARDS! At the base, the little white eyed monsters don’t waste any time! Nick! The whole scaffolding will collapse! A second later, Don is thrown into the void! Argh! Nick holds onto his friend with all of his strength. Phew! I can’t take it anymore. Climb so I can let go! Page 21: Suddenly a helicopter appears and stops above them. Hold on to the hook. Damn! It was about time! Incredible! Both safe and sound. A little later. I picked up these two young people while I was doing an inspection tour over the city. If you have any information to share with us on the white eyes, come and see the colonel. Any information! And how! Page 22: Their story ended. At dawn I will send an infantry battalion to dislodge Ezra Creech. It would be suicide Commander. You must blow up the castle and Creech with it. WHEN I NEED more advice, young man, I'll ask you. Oh, Excuse me Colonel. We should try to get Timms of this Island, and with him, the antidote. In this case it is best to leave with the brigade. Meanwhile at Doomcrag, Ezra Creech addresses the little white-eyed monsters. You will help me turn every living thing on this Island into white eyes! Vive the white eyes! We obey you, Boss! Page 23: This very evening, Ezra Creech throws several vials containing the gas into the town’s water reservoir. It's Timms who would have this job Ah! This one I will destroy. One hour later retirees in the retirement home drink the contaminated water. Your Chocolate, take One! Thanks friend. A few minutes later. Ah! Demolish! Destroy it. Page 24: At dawn, the army arrives on the Island. Stop on the beach. Nick and Don are with the first wave. And now Don? Quickly, let’s get Timms from the Cavern. A group of old people arrive in front of the soldiers. And to their great surprise! Kill the intruders. Huh! Whack! Page 25: Long live the White Eyes! Kill the intruders! Quickly! Get out of here. The invisible hands attack the pillars of the Jetty, and one collapses. No one can oppose the power of the white eyes. Only a few soldiers manage to escape the Island by swimming. A few other try to get to their truck, but… No one will escape the white eyes! Page 26: And the army attack on Doomcrag ends in catastrophe. Argh! Eagh! Crash! Ezra Creech rejoices at the spectacle. Ha, ha! he thinks. Nothing can stop me now. NOTHING. In a few hours, everything living on this Island will be transformed into white eyes. Page 27: He will visit the amusement park. Ha, ha, ha! What an adorable creature he thinks as he enters the tank for the giant killer octopus. In the aquarium. He admires the monster in his glass cage. You will be very useful! A friend with eight tentacles! Meanwhile, Nick and Don arrive at the cave where they had left their friend Timms. Timms, Timms, where are you? Where is he? He is not here Don! Timms seems even more terrified than before. We will leave this Island, so you can fight against the white eyes. I WILL DO ANYTHING... ANYTHING YOU WANT, BUT TAKE ME FROM HERE. Page 28: Everything is fine until they get to the lighthouse. Let’s take one of those little boats… Suddenly, everything changes! Great Gods! A Giant Killer Octopus emerges from the ocean! Eh! Ah! It is the end! Quickly! Get into the lighthouse! But the building tumbles under the assault! Crack! Page 29: Heavens! The giant killer octopus ingests the lighthouse! Phew! We had a narrow escape! Yes, now we have to find a boat. Crossing the deserted town. You think he is too? I don’t know, let’s be on our guard. Page 30: Under his helmet, sparkling white eyes! With hands of steel, he seizes Timms. No, No! Don’t hurt me! Take me to your Boss! Creech receives him vociferously! Timms You disobeyed me you sniveling dog! You will be punished! No! Have pity! To start with, you will undergo the treatment! Then, if you will work for me...I have a task for you! Whatever you want boss! Page 31: SILENCE! YOUR GAS DOES NOT SATISFY ME COMPLETELY! YOU WILL PREPARE ME ANOTHER TIMMS, MORE POWERFUL Meanwhile, in the military camp on the mainland, the colonel reviews the situation. Ezra Creech has transformed the inhabitants of the Island into monsters with white eyes! I should have listened to the two boys. We will bombard the Castle! And it must be reduced to dust. Nick and Don are hidden behind a rick, when the first sound of cannon fire starts! It is the Army firing on the Castle! They have finally decided to follow our advice! Too late! If they had listened to us, the world would already be rid of Ezra Creech. Page 32: Creech sees everything, hears everything from his new headquarters. Poor fools! They think we can attack Ezra Creech like any mortal. At his call, and animal presents itself, a giant white-eyed kangaroo with boxing gloves on its paws! Perfect! You will fly to the continent and silence their absurd canon! In the shadow of the eagle, the kangaroo soars in the sky! GO ahead my friend! Rend, tear, and destroy! The batteries of cannon are still firing when the eagle and the kangaroo arrive. Ah! God in heaven! The White Eyes! Page 33: The two envoys of Creech fall upon the cannon! Ah! Strewth! Fair Dinkum! Ah! No! I don’t want to be attacked! Run fast as you can! Wham! Balaam! Squawk! Having turned the canons into piles of scrap, the eagle and the Kangaroo return by air. Page 34: And soon after. Good Work, my dear friends! Now, I will summon all our brothers and sisters on the island for a great council of war! A little later, from their observation post, Nick and Don see the inhabitants of Doomcrag filing past. What do you think of that Don? They are going into the amusement park. Follow them Nick! Looks like a meeting! Damn! Creech is there too! Page 35: My brothers, my sisters, as the first stage of conquest of the world, I propose to invade the continent! Long live our chief! Let’s invade the Continent! Yes! I promise you. We will burn demolish, destroy! And my friends from the old people’s home will lead the assault! Of all the assistants, missus Pinkie, the dean is the most enthusiastic. The meeting ends, and the two friends advance by the light of the ghost train. The authorities on the mainland must be alerted! They probably aren’t really paying attention to an aircraft carrier being sunk, and a combat battalion destroyed. All right! But let's wait for Creech to announce the date of the invasion. Page 36: In a store, they take a huge lamp and… Returning: to the beach, nick starts sending a message… He spells out: D, A, N, G, E, R. Provided someone sees it, someone who can read Morse code. But two white eyes watch! And before the two young people have seen the danger, a multitude of crabs surround them! Look out Nick! Ah! Page 37: Tighter and tighter the circle draws. Nick, what are we going to do! We can’t let ourselves die, we have to try to leave. And, jumping into the air, he takes a prodigious leap. Come quickly Don, let’s try our luck! Don jumps in turn, and the two friends go running, pursued by the redoubtable claws! A few meters further. Bad luck! An army of Lobsters! Let’s climb the Jetty! It’s out only chance! Page 38: TO THEIR AMAZEMENT, They have not escaped the danger. The lobsters begin to saw through the iron columns with their powerful claws. The center cannot hold! In a few seconds everything will fall apart! Let’s get on to the roof of this rotunda! When all of the Iron scaffolding crumbles. Hold on Nick, we’re going to slide! Saved! We are saved! Incredible! Let’s leave before those awesome creatures find us! A little further along the beach, at the repair dock. Damn! Look at that! We have seen it all! Page 39: Dozens of white eyes were repairing the Jolly Jack. Miss Pinkie, Terror of the old people’s home, was fixing the rivets by hand! Ha! Ha! Hah! What will they do with the Jolly Jack? Evidently use it to invade other territories! Page 40: Meanwhile at general headquarters, Ezra Creech talks with Timms. So, this famous gas, a thousand times more powerful, is it ready or not? Not everything is done! Is not so easy. I don’t want to hear about difficulties. Good Boss. I must have this gas to Invade Europe and America. The operation to conquer the world begins tomorrow. It will all begin with the invasion of the continent with the Jolly Jack! Page 41: Ezra Creech reunites his friends at the amusement park. My brothers, My Sisters! The hour has rung for the white eyes to be masters of the world! Tomorrow we invade the continent! You will sail on the jolly jack and miss pinkie here will command the shock troops who will eliminate all living beings! Destruction! Demolition! Yells Missus Pinkie, the demolition mam. From their hiding place, Don and Nick see and hear everything. Let's try again Nick. To send a warning in Morse. They try a first message. At Dawn. Let’s go quickly! They will notice us if we hang about. They are very fast. We’ll get across to their boat. We will remain hidden until departure and during the crossing. Page 42: They climb along a hawser and hide in a lifeboat. I can't wait to see the dawn break you know. Oh, yes, we'll have a blast! Shortly before dawn, Ezra Creech witnesses the departure of the white eyes under the orders of missus pinkie, who is wielding a sledgehammer. Fight savagely my brothers and my sisters. We will not forget you boss! Long live the White Eyes! As soon as the old ship leaves port, it is escorted by seagulls that had been transformed into white-eyed monsters. Page 43: Canon fire rings out from the shore. Poor idiots, they shoot at us. Soon their canon will be silent for eternity! And Missus Pinkie howls an order to a vulture perched on the mast. Seek! Locate! Exterminate! Squawk! Squawk! The shots come from a single tank. Naturally the soldier does not see the danger coming. Aim to the right. Fire! Squawk! Squawk! Page 44: The Vulture with the white eyes drops the tank into the Sea! Our feathered brother has done good work! A few minutes later, Missus pinkie leads the shock troops onto the Normandy beaches! Demolition! Destruction! Tea and a chocolate biscuit at eleven! There are no obstacles, and it is under an oppressive silence that Nick and Don advance up the beach. The army surely did not receive our message. They would have taken action. These monsters will raze the city. Which is when. Two monsters with white eyes! Open Fire! Page 45: Nick and Don have just enough time to throw themselves to the ground. No! Stop! We do not have white eyes! Stop! Those are two boys that have helped us. The Sergeant explains to Nick and Don, that he is part of the Brigade that is defending against the White eyes. In that case, you should have received your message yesterday. We received it, and the measures taken for the welcome are spectacular. We set a trap, says the smug soldier. There is a column in the square that is booby-trapped. As soon as they approach it will fall over on them and crush them. Page 46: At just that moment, the redoubtable Missus Pinkie conducts her troops towards the Village Square. Demolition! Destruction! Let’s Go! One, Two, Three! But as soon as they arrive at the foot of the column. Crack! From the proud tower at the center of the town, Death looks gigantically down! And before the huge mass of marble crashes down on them. Hold it, hold it my brothers, hold it! We are not afraid of such a huge erection hitting us in the face! Page 47: Long live the White Eyes! We are invincible! The rumor reaches the small group at the beach. I believe that it, says the sergeant. But another surprise awaits the survivors at the station. Then. Look! I will crush this miserable wretch! No! No! Please, I will do whatever you ask! I am a train conductor! I can take you wherever you want! I can take you to London. Perfect! Take us to London! I can’t wait to raze the parliament and Buckingham palace! Page 48: And thus, carrying its monstrous passengers, the train starts in the direction of the Capital! Demolition! Destruction! But, five kilometers from the small village, the driver jumps from the train! To the devil with you. A few seconds later, and the vehicle is involved in a catastrophe! Look! The Points! They have been destroyed! We are betrayed! Vengeance! Vengeance! Revenge my Brothers. Page 49: The rails have been torn up. Ah! We are doomed! But the redoubtable missus Pinkie reacts immediately. Help my feathered brothers! The birds with white eyes answer the call! Squawk! Squawk! And hundreds of pairs of wings land of the roof and change the direction of the train. Page 50: Well played! The white eyes are unbeatable because they are united! As we no longer have a conductor, we have to find another means of transport or continue on foot to London. Walk! Think about the work we can do on our way! However Nick and Don were taken to the headquarters of the armed forces. Dexter and Redding have arrived from Doomcrag, General. Did you derail the train? Everything failed. They are advancing on London. And nothing and no-one is in their way to stop them. Page 51: What about Timm’s antidote? And he's the only one who can make it! If he's still alive! He still lives. But Creech holds him under his power and makes him manufacture the dreadful gas. If we can bring him back here, he could work for us. It’s all about getting him out of Doomcrag. Nothing is easier! You will retrieve him with a helicopter. A helicopter? The monstrous birds will immediately attack it! And by the way, they will attack any means of transport. The best way is to swim there. Nick and Don are excellent swimmers. At nightfall… Provided we don’t meet with the white eyed sharks! Or the giant lobsters and Crabs! Page 52: But the monsters living on the seabed seem to be asleep. No trace! So much the better! What luck! I can’t believe my eyes. But a familiar voice startles them. Ha! We meet again, my good friends! Creech! Under the rays of the moon, the white eyes of Creech flash sinisterly. Poor Morons! My aquatic friends have notified me of your arrival. You are surrounded. Ha! Ha! Ha! Page 53: A policeman seizes the two young men by their shoulders. Do I tear them to bits or what Boss? No! I want them to live and suffer. Flashes of hate shoot from the eyes of the monster. I could transform you two into white eyes. You are unworthy of such a fate! You will suffer! SUFFER! And the two boys are moved to the amusement park that Creech has made his headquarters. Hold Timms! I bring you two helpers! They will undergo the same torture as you for each day of delay! No! NO! Please not that torture! When they find themselves alone with the chemist. Timms! Come on, let's see! You have to work on the antidote! We must do it to save humanity! I have already found it. Page 54: He takes in his hands two small ampules. In my left hand is the antidote, in my right, the super gas, one puff of which will allow a man to move mountains! Good! We have to get min off this island immediately! Let’s hide them, the dawn will is coming soon! Yes, but how? The white eyes are everywhere. A few minutes later, there are three silhouetted profiles in the park. It was certainly not their lucky day. Gaah! Yells the particularly articulate policeman. Let’s hurry! Let’s quickly climb the cliff! Page 55: As the two boys and the chemist climb as fast as they can. There we go! He is not following us! In front of them is a menacing danger. Timms! Use the antidote quickly! Gah! Argh! Timms is unsettled. I mixed the ampules up! I do not know which one is the antidote and which is the gas! Too bad! Try and use any of them. Page 56: There! I hope it’s the right one. The ampule comes crashing down at the feet of the policeman. He utters a cry that makes the cliff shake. Argh! Argh! Argh! As he pounds his fists on the rocks. Argh! Oink! Oink! Police sounds! The cliffs begin to tremble as if it were an earthquake. It was the wrong ampule! He has become super powerful! Page 57: The policeman becomes a thousand times fiercer! Ga! Argh! Oink! For heaven's sake Timms, send the antidote before that individual destroys the entire island! Let’s go! And I hope the formula works! The ampoule bursts at the feet of the uniformed man, and immediately: Hello, hello, hello, you three tell me why you’re up there! It’s forbidden! Page 58: In a few minutes the policeman took on his normal appearance and remembers what happened. If your friend has the secret antidote, we must immediately bring him back to the mainland. Follow me. Where are you taking these miserable three, Brother? Orders from the boss. Top secret! Accompanied by the policeman, Timms, Nick and Don arrive safe and sound on dry land. Stop right there! Who are you! Dexter and Redding! Take us to the General quick as you can! Seconds later. Perfect Timms! Now, quick as you can, without delay, you get to work and produce the antidote. Nothing simpler, Colonel! After mid-day nap times, I’ll have large quantities ready. Page 59: Indeed, a few hours later the first helicopter carrying the antidote flies over the railway tracks heading to London. Attention! Here come the shock troops of the white eyes heading towards London! At the head of the Shock troops, the redoubtable Missus Pinkie did not lose her courage! Poor Miserables! Do you think that you can stop us! They are dispensing some product on us. A little later, the shock troops is composed only of the old and feeble. What are we doing here? I want to go home. Is it elevens yet? Where is my cocoa and biscuits? Let’s hurry back, we will miss the soap opera on television. The same evening the island of Doomcrag is rid of the white eyes. This time we have succeeded! Page 60: Aware of the danger, Ezra Creech hurries to leave the island in his own manner, in the claws of a mighty white eyed eagle! Quickly my feathered brother! Quickly, before they enfeeble us! But Creech doesn’t make it very far. Turn left, my friend, or we are prisoners! One second later, the Eagle returns to normal, and the monstrous Creech tumbles into the Port. Squawk! Argh! Doomcrag is definitively free from the nightmare of the white eyes. I hope this time it's the end of Ezra Creech Nick! And that it is also the end of the monsters with white eyes! End of the episode!

Reptil by John Catchpole and Angus Peter Allen. Episode two. Failure to become Superman. PAGE 1: An error in the manufacture of a new insecticide produced a harmful power. By breathing this gas, living beings underwent a transformation! In particular, they became white-eyed, aggressive monsters. Thanks to the efforts of two boys, Don Redding and Nick Dexter who successfully delivered an antidote, the village of Wimbering was saved. Army tanks leave the valley, carrying all the insecticide reserves in order to put it out action, while Nick and Don fly over the city by helicopter in the company of Timms, the chemist. Thus, any remaining insecticide will be buried at the bottom of the Atlantic? Yes Nick! Ten miles deep? It is the safest place. This damned product is unfortunately not biodegradable. So it has to remain buried for eternity at the bed of the sea. PAGE 2: But when the huge cylinder reaches the coast not far from Merehaven. You see them Ivan? Yes master, they transport it on the on the barge. Ezra Creech, the man in the Wheelchair, is wanted by all police agencies. Hello! This is control, this is control! The package has arrived. Action! Over! Ezra Creech was disabled and had been confined to his wheelchair for ten years. In few hours, I will become a normal man again: and even a superman! A little later, escorted by destroyers the huge cylinder is sunk. How long will it take? Five days. They will open the hull of the barge and it will sink, along with the cylinder. PAGE 3: The operation took place a mile from the port. All of a sudden! Boom! It’s an explosion Capitan! Great gods! You are clever! What caused it? How? In a few seconds, the frog men take a sample of the gas. PAGE 4: That night in his lair, at the top of the hill, Creech breathes in the gas. Finally! Immediately, his eyes turn white. Victory! Ezra Creech holds the world in his hands! The old Villain intends on displaying his power. Let’s go, just to see what happens. He tears up a train track. Crunch! Formidable! PAGE 5: Ha, Ha, Ha! For ten years I have waited for this moment, now I am Invincible! His second target is a great bronze statue! He, he, he! Into the dirt with you too, son! A very good start! Now to begin serious work! I will conquer Merehaven and then the whole world! PAGE 6: Meanwhile, the police are taking stock. Sirs, the cylinder is at a depth of ten fathoms! It is accessible to anyone wishing to withdraw small quantities of gas! It has already been done! A white-eyed monster has caused a disaster on the port. A monster with white eyes? Has someone else breathed that damned gas? A little later. Look! The man with the white eyes has removed the rails, and the freight train has passed over the bridge. Nick and Don, who are in the crowd, exchange a knowing look! Don! Everything is repeating itself! Alas! What a nightmare! We are back to where we started! PAGE 7: This week at Merehaven! The man himself! An animal star box contest: the Gorilla Man! And that night, when the Animal gorilla man is doing his running training on the hill, when! The man in the wheelchair stretches his foot and trips up the giant! Ouch! Miserable! I will grind you to dust! Try it! We will have a laugh. PAGE 8: At first contact, the animal is thrown forward! Aha! Eh! And tumbles several times over himself. Ha! Ha! The performance of a lifetime! Then, Creech’s henchman approaches the boxer. Just one puff, Ivan! And I'll have this giant for as an ally. PAGE 9: A few minutes later, after the effect: What? What as it happened to me? And who are you? Look me in the eyes and you will see that we are the same! We are the white eyes! And we can conquer the world! The two men head towards a hundred year old tree at the top of the hill. Do you feel the new forces buzzing within you? Go on, my friend, knock over this tree! Yes! Yes! With a single effortless gesture, the white-eyed giant uproots the tree. AAAH! PAGE 10: Strengthened by this alliance, Creech goes to the reptiles of the Merehaven zoo. A forty five meter Anaconda. We shall release her! It will make a noise in Merehaven! Let’s Go, he said pointing to the American Anaconda. Right away the partition glass is broken and the harmful gas is released. In a few minutes, the snake rears up. Hiss! He is one of us! Yes, we gain an ally! At the same time: Timms drives Don and Nick to Merehaven station. But why return us with us? We would like to help. We have done enough at Wimbering! I can't watch you risk your life again. PAGE 11: But, as they cross the square. Hiss! Argh! Heavens! look! Hiss! Hiss! A giant anaconda crushes a bus. Ah! The little car is thrown up into the air by the huge reptile! Ah! Don and Nick are unharmed from the accident but Timms has lost consciousness. Do you know what I think Don? Yes, there is no question of leaving Merehaven! Exactly! Merehaven has a wonderful aquarium that is where Ezra Creech and his two accomplice next arrive. Look carefully! This will be our new ally! PAGE 12: Yes, the great white shark, the terror of the oceans, will now part of our family! The famous gas is injected into the shark! Just a small amount is enough! One hour later, under the horrified looks from the guards, the monster leaps out of the aquarium. He returns to the ocean! That evening, three naval units enter the port. Object in view! It looks like a shark fin! PAGE 13: A second later. Eh! Arch! Argh! The eyes, look at the white eyes! The boat turns around on itself, and its cannons are trained afar, unable to bear on the target. However, in the hospital, Nick and Don attend with anxiety for news regarding Timms. How is he doctor? I can't tell, he's still in a coma. PAGE 14: So we stay here! But how to fight against the White eyes! Let's alert the authorities first! The City is completely deserted! People are staying at home. The white eyes can strike at any moment. They go up to the lighthouse to better monitor the city. It is a question of knowing how humans and animals have been affected by this gas. We have to see the results first, and check if it is indeed the white eyes. To their great surprise, they hear a voice a voice behind them. Tell me, young people, what's going on in town? Scary rumors are spreading. Nothing great, Sir! But it is advisable not to leave our houses. PAGE 15: The authorities have things well in hand, and the police helicopter is flying over the city. You reassure me! It is terrible being old and without defense. Good night sir, we will come to see you tomorrow! Goodbye children. You are really very nice! Ezra Creech takes off his glasses, and his white eyes start to shine. Perfect, Perfect! Those two kids just gave me some interesting news. At nightfall. Her it is Ivan. The Apiaries of Merehaven, Delicious local honey. PAGE 16: A little gas in each hive and we will have many more friends. At dawn the police helicopter crosses the skies of Merehaven again. Hello, this is the patrol. No sign of the snake or the shark. The city is completely deserted. And then Suddenly! Ah! What is it? The helicopter is engulfed in a buzzing cloud! No! No! Ah! They are coming from everywhere! All around us! PAGE 17: Thousands of bees cover the helicopter and force it to descend! Until it is forced to crash! And then, the swarm returned to the abandoned lighthouse, into which Ezra Creech was retiring. And here our little friends return. PAGE 18: He, ha! Ha we present the power to strike anywhere on earth. At sea and in the air. The whole world is under my domination! Indeed - when the tanks enter the afflicted city. Your orders are to shoot anything that moves! The power of Creech is felt immediately. Gash, Argh! PAGE 19: And only stops after destroying the first two units. While in the port, the divers try to remove the large cylinder containing the harmful gas. Are surprised by the white-eyed shark! Don and Nick represent Timms at an improvised police meeting. PAGE 20: To limit damage, we will ship all of the zoo animals to London! Excellent Idea. As an afterthought, we must also evacuate the taxpaying inhabitants. Don and Nick leave the meeting. Let's take a look at the old man who lives in the lighthouse. We should bring him some provisions. He should not dare go out. The two boys are far from imagining that the object of their compassion is the most formidable man there is! You are too good to me, my children! I am a poor weakling in constant menace of death. Don’t worry! We’ll take care of everything. The animals at the Zoo will be… No Nick that is secret information! What nick means sir is that we will take some measures to limit the spread of the trouble. PAGE 21: The old fox at instantly understands. They will evacuate the animals from the zoo by train I guess. So, that afternoon the animals are loaded onto freight trains. Approximately five hundred meters from the station, on a small wooden Bridge, Ezra Creech and a trusted acolyte wait with a small gas bomb. Here’s the train! We are going to spray everything with the contents of the bomb and all the passengers without exception will become our allies! The train moves forward as the gas vapors slowly spread. Ha, ha, ha! Long live the white eyes! PAGE 22: THE DRIVER AND HIS ASSISTANT ARE THE FIRST AFFECTED. Argh! What? Why are we leaving Merehaven? Yes! Why? It is here that we have to live, stop the train! The train stops, and the two men get out! Quickly! Let us free our animal friends! And then, to action! But already the beasts have become monsters, and have smashed the wagons and headed for the city! Overturning everything in their rampage! Attack! Destroy everything! PAGE 23: Immediately alert, the Army is at attention! Fire! But before the order is carried out, the soldiers are savagely attacked! Argh! Ah! Argh! From their hotel room., Nick and Don hear the noise and put their noses to the window. These are the zoo animals! They are ruthlessly devastating the city! An Eagle swoops down on their window. Squawk! Heavens! He will carry us away! Retreat! PAGE 24: The eagle is already in the room! Squawk! Squawk! Help! Help! Don was torn from the ground by the claws of the animal. Nick Do Something! Don! No, No! A few seconds later, Don flies over the port. Bad luck! He’ll take a bite out of me! PAGE 25: The jet fly’s around the eagle and its prey. Squawk! Just my luck, a poorly drawn English Electric Lightning! After completing a wide turn, the Plane rushes towards them. Oh No! They will not shoot at us. Then, promptly releasing its prey, the eagle throws itself at the jet, and snaps its wing off! PAGE 26: Dropped from the air, Don will fall into the sea. Ugh! In vain does he try to come back to the surface! Misfortune! The shark with white eyes. Is it me he's going for? Finally Don reaches the surface. Bur! A little longer, and I would have ended up in his mouth. Climbing the ricks, he sees the old lighthouse. I will visit the old infirmed man. Provided we do him no harm. As he approaches, he hears a sound of voice... We must find other men to help us. Shut up you! I have already thought of it. I will tell you what is we must do. PAGE 27: Inside, Ezra Creech addresses an imposing assembly. We are seventy here! The City is in the hands of our friends from the zoo. But for the world to be ours, we must become more and more numerous. Look at these specimen! It contains the precious vapors. Six volunteers among you are going to spread them in town. Don gets chills of horror! The villain is the chief of the white eyes! We will choose your targets wisely. Retain only the strongest the smartest. Only the best deserve to be part of our group! Yes! Yes! PAGE 28: Don remains hidden until the departure of the six white eyes. I have to warn the authorities of Merehaven of this new danger On the outskirts of town he finds a bicycle. What a godsend! Alas! On reaching the high street No! What bad luck. A white eyed gorilla! He pedals at full speed. Na! Argh! You can howl old man he yells at the Gorilla! I believe I’m getting ahead. PAGE 29: But the Gorilla is Unchained, and. Rips up a street lamp! And hurls it at the boy! Crash! Argh! Triumphantly the Gorilla advances towards the boy pinned under the lamp! Argh! Argh! PAGE 30: But all of a sudden, a black cloud covers the sky! Eh! Helping arms reach to help Don. We have succeed with the use of Smoke to scare away that animal! But let's go fast! He could come back. Let’s go young man! The soldiers carry don to the post office at the center of the village. I have extremely important news to convey. We will see the commander of the troops in the region. A few minutes later. You claim to have discovered the one who directs all the operations of the White Eyes? Yes, it’s the disabled old man who lives in the lighthouse. PAGE 31: This evening, he sent six of his men with the order to spread the harmful gas in very specific points. Well, tomorrow at dawn, I'll send a squadron to the old lighthouse. Thank you young man, what are you planning to do now? I'll find my buddy. Don't worry about me commander. Left alone in his office, the brigade commanderr…. Calling all patrols, watch out for a young boy named Don Redding. He is part of the White eyes, watch out! His white eyes flash. Heh, heh, heh! PAGE 32: Don arrives at the hotel, where he hopes to find N ick. I bet the doors are locked. They are! All refugees in the attic. Suddenly, he is grabbed b y a snake in a vice like grip! Argh! Le Hiss, Sur Le Hiss! The embrace tightens around his chest, he is strangled… Suddenly, he seems to hear a familiar voice. Don! Don, can you hear me Don? PAGE 33: When he opens his eyes, Nick sees his friend bending over him. Nick, Nick, what happened? You were very lucky! Close your eyes and go back to sleep, we'll talk about all this tomorrow. As Don obeys, his friend's face changes… Yes, I ordered the snake to let you go. And tomorrow I'll drive to the boss, you'll be one of us. The dawn rises over the little town of Merehaven, revealing a village invaded by the white eyed animals. The beasts seem peaceful though. but a man goes out to get groceries and is savagely attacked. Argh! Help! Help Argh! PAGE 34: From the window of the Hotel, Don views the scene. Brigadier Ponsonby has promised to send her tanks to dislodge the villain who lives in the lighthouse. What? Why? What did he do? What did he do? But this man is the leader of the white eyes! He is responsible for all our misfortunes! Let's go see what's happening at the lighthouse. Watch out for the beasts they attack without warning. Indeed, just behind them. Nick, look to your right! PAGE 35: But, to their surprise, the snake slithers away. Incredible, he leaves quietly and doesn’t attack us. Is the snake Italian? Don reflects for an instant. I have a thought about this thing Nick. How did you rid us of the snake? Do you also possess some extraordinary power? Nick didn't need to respond! His eyes answer for him... Ah! You too belong to their group? Yes! It happened last night, along with Brigadier Ponsonby and some others! He will never send his tanks against our great boss! The big boss? You mean to say that. Yes! Ezra Cheech, the old man from the light house! I’m going to take you to him and you will become one of us! PAGE 36: Don reacts immediately! No, No my old man he yells as he runs away. Perfect! So you refuse to become one of us? All that remain is to eliminate you. And Nick puts his power to the test. The arch of the bridge crumbles as Don screams in terror! Argh! PAGE 37: And holds onto an outcropping of stone, while below him, in the water… Bad luck! A great White shark! Muscles stretched to the limit, he tries desperately to maintain a hold. I should have dropped! Better to be eaten by the shark than shot buy is best friend! You refused the last luck that remained to you! Nick rushes at Don. PAGE 38: But Don Crouches and Nick is pitched into the void. Ah! Damn! Curses! Provided that the shark does not attack… Nick indeed emerges unscathed from the water. You cannot escape me Don! None can escape from the power of the new whites, it is infinite! And raising his arms, Nick begins screaming at the top of his lungs. White eyes from heaven! Listen to me! By the hundreds attack the fugitive! Attack! Strike! PAGE 39: A few minutes later, Don feels the whisper of a hundred pairs of wings above his head. Ah! And the beaks and sharp claws attack. Ah! I can't take it anymore I'm exhausted. He pushes into the first door he finds, which by chance is the Merehaven Cottage hospital. Ouch! He stammers as he staggers into the reception room. And finds himself in a Great Hall. Oh, he wonders, it is The Hospital! Is Doctor Timms still here? PAGE 40: Timms is the only one in a room, Don! What pleasure to see a friendly face! They moved the whole hospital to the basements and forgot me! But we cannot not stay here Timms. White eyes will arrive in a moment! What happened since I lost consciousness? All the Zoo animals turned into white eyed monsters! And poor Nick was affected too. Merehaven is no longer a safe place, you have to leave the village. You hear that Noise? It sounds like tanks. PAGE 41: In fact, a column of tank emerges at the end of the avenue. Look out Don! We are saved! Hey! It's me, Don Redding! And with me is Mister Timms! Alas, in the turret of lead tank one white-eyed military man yells into his mic. Two men in sight! Stop at two hundred meters and open fire! Oomph! Bang! Boom! Keep your head down Timms! Run away! Suddenly a tanker truck appears in front of them! But this truck belongs to my company. PAGE 42: Indeed, the driver hails them with a cheerful voice. He! Monsieur Timms, Were are you running to in you pajamas? We are being pursued by those tanks over there that are still shooting at us at a range of two hundred meters. Can we bum a ride? Don has just time to jump inside the vehicle. Wait for me I come too! While microphone in hand, Brigadier Ponsonby Yells orders to the white-eyes. Fire on the tanker truck! The truck flees at full speed. As soon as they received your message at the factory, they sent me here with huge quantities of the antidote mister Timms. There is enough here to cure millions of white eyes. PAGE 43: Suddenly they feel a shock. Oh no! We are on fire. Immediately, Nobby the drive applies the brakes, and the three descend from the vehicle. Quick behind the wall, the fire is spreading. The Truck’s explosion is heard from miles around, and a thick fog descends on the little village of Merehaven. Ba-Boom! PAGE 44: When Brigadier Ponsonby breathes that vapor. But what happened to me? Why did I give the order to fire on this tank truck? Creech in his wheelchair, along with his accomplices breathe in the gas. What is happening to me! I am loosing al my powers? Trying to get up, Creech reverse his chair… Tellme it’s not true! I am forever the strongest! The world belongs to me! Bur it is already too late. PAGE 45: The great shark has also lost its fearsome strength. And this ends the terrible threat of the white eyes. The in habitants begin to emerge from their basements. The army confines the animals to the Zoo. Finally Don finds his fearless friend Nick. I’m so sorry for what happened in the past Don! All is forgotten Nick! It's all over! The antidote has done its work in time Fortunately. End of the Episode. Next episode: The Cursed Island.