"Back, you! Get out!" roared Waldron, raising a fist. "We--"
A sudden belch of flame, outside, split the night with terrible
virescence. The whole steel building trembled and swayed. Some of its
girders buckled; and the east wall, nearest the oxygen-tanks, caved
inward as a mass of many tons was hurled against it.
A stunning concussion flung all three men to the floor; and, as they
fell, a withering heat-wave quivered through the place.
"The oxygen-tanks!" gasped Flint. "They're blown up--they're
burning--God help us!"
Scorching, yet still eager to live, he crawled on hands and knees toward
the steel door. Waldron dragged himself along, half-dead with terror.
Now, dripping gouts of inextinguishable fire were raining on the roof of
the building. A whirlwind of flame was sweeping all its eastern side;
and a glare like that of Hell itself seared the eyes of the fugitives.
Quivering, trembling, slavering, the old man and Waldron wrenched the
steel door open.
"_Me! Me! Let me in! Me! Save me!_" howled Herzog, dragging himself
toward them.
Pages:
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404