Famine by John Creasey Page A

chance of escape,” Palfrey said, but even as he answered, he felt the chill of fear, for there was no way of being sure. The certain thing was that he must go back to London and alert the world’s governments of the acute danger.
    Imagine what could happen if millions of creatures like these were in existence. The thought made him shiver inwardly, but outwardly he showed no sign. He turned back to the soldiers, as the corporal appeared, a short man towering above the buildings of the ‘city’.
    â€œThe place is cleared right up,” he said. “They took everything. Couldn’t have got far, though, could they?”
    â€œNo,” answered Palfrey, but in fact he could not be sure.
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    Others knew and did not really believe it.
    Jim Baretta, in a helicopter travelling slowly above and in the wake of the smokescreen knew, but realised that it would be almost impossible to convince Palfrey, or anyone else.
    Six helicopters and four conventional reconnaissance aircraft kept a watch on the cloud which might be mist or smoke or gas. The smoke, as all of them called it, was greyish white, and moved sluggishly. It did not appear to thicken, nor to disperse. Thousands of photographs were taken from heights of a hundred to five thousand feet above the ground. Infra-red, and other much more penetrative photographic rays, were used, and most of the photographs were developed instantly. Nothing penetrated the outer layer of the smoke, and nothing at all appeared at the periphery.
    Research workers and army decontamination squads moving in the wake of the cloud at ground level, found nothing poisonous or harmful as far as they could judge; there were damp traces and patches of ordinary vapour or mist. The chase went on until dusk fell, and then the cloud stopped moving. Messages were flashed back to Z5 and were relayed to Palfrey who was on his way back to London.
    â€œSmokescreen has been stationary for three minutes.”
    â€œSmokescreen has been stationary for five minutes.”
    â€œSmokescreen has been stationary for ten minutes.”
    Ten minutes – fifteen – twenty—
    Palfrey stepped out of the helicopter. London’s lights were gay and bright over the river and West End, as its millions moved towards the rest and relaxation of evening. A decision would soon have to be made whether to force some penetration of the smokescreen, and Palfrey decided to consult with the Commander-in-Chief of Southern Command before making up his mind. He reached Green Park underground station, stepped into the secret lift, went down, and along to his office. As he passed Joyce’s room, she opened the door, and he saw at once that she was distressed.
    â€œSap.”
    â€œWhat is it?”
    â€œThat smoke dispersed.”
    â€œDispersed?” he echoed, and felt the icy clutch of fear.
    â€œYes,” Joyce told him. “And there was nothing beneath it. All of those little creatures had disappeared. Sap – where could they have gone ?”
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    At this juncture, Palfrey knew, there was no way of telling.
    He studied the reports, and the photographs, and was forced to accept the fact that a group of hundreds of pygmies, or midgets, call them what you will, had disappeared without a trace. In the morning, in full daylight, some traces might be found, but by then it would be very late to follow the trail.
    Palfrey found his heart beating very fast with a new kind of apprehension. What would the creatures do? Whom else would they attack? What were they? Where had they come from? The obvious thought, which he had forced to the back of his mind, was that they might be from another planet, a possibility which the most sceptical of men accepted today. But while life might have developed on other planets, and something akin to human intelligence might exist, was it likely that physical evolution would be so close to that of the human being of this earth? He did