e red mass. Then, slimy wriggling
things rained all about them, fragments of the red weed that still
squirmed and crawled and clung. Bill Petersen yelled and clutched at
his neck where one of the things had taken hold.

Another warning whistle of a falling bomb. Crash! More of the horror
raining down and splattering as it fell. Whistle--crash! A huge blob
of quivering, luminous jelly fell before them--a portion of one of the
mother-plants. Crash! Crash!

"Run!" Van shouted. "Run for the plane. We'll never make it now. Damn
those bombers, anyway!"

All along the advancing front, the bombs were bursting, shattering the
air with their detonations and scattering the glowing red stems and
tendrils in all directions. The din was appalling, and the increasing
brightness of the crimson glow added to the horror of the situation.
Stumbling and cursing, they ran for the plane.

"Fools! Fools!" Bill was shouting. "Can't they see the field and the
plane? Why in the devil are they dropping them so near?"

* * * * *

Then Bart was down, clawing at a three-foot length of red tendril that
had fallen on him and borne him to the earth.

"Bart! Bart!" Van turned back and was tearing at the thing with
fingers that were slippery with the sap that oozed from its torn skin.
Monstrous earthworms! Cut them apart and each portion lived on, took
on new vigor. And these vile things could sting like a jellyfish!
Where each sucker touched the skin a burning sore remained.

Bill helped them break away from the thing, and all three fought on
toward the lights of the landing field. Only a short way off now; it
seemed they would never reach it. The bombers were dropping their
missiles with unceasing regularity, and the red death only spread the
faster.

When they scrambled into the cabin of the plane, the red wall of
creeping horror was almost upon them. Advancing speedily out from the
red-lit darkness, it seemed to halt momentarily, when it emerged into
the brilliance of the great arc-lights which illuminated the field.
Then, more slowly and with seemingly purposeful deliberation, the
wriggling feelers reached out from the mass and bore down upon them.
Bill slammed the door and latched it, then fumbled frantically with
the starter switch. A most welcome sound was the answering roar of
the motor.

The pilot yanked his ship into the air, taking off with the wind
rather than running the risk of remaining on the g