Beyond The Great Oblivion

Beyond The Great Oblivion
George Allan England
I. Beginnings
II. Settling Down
III. The Maskalonge
IV. The Golden Age
V. Deadly Peril
VI. Trapped!
VII. A Night of Toil
VIII. The Rebirth of Civilization
IX. Planning the Great Migration
X. Toward the Great Cataract
XI. The Plunge!
XII. Trapped on the Ledge
XIII. On the Crest of the Maelstrom
XIV. A Fresh Start
XV. Labor and Comradeship
XVI. Finding the Biplane
XVII. All Aboard for Boston!
XVIII. The Hurricane
XIX. Westward Ho!
XX. On the Lip of the Chasm
XXI. Lost in the Great Abyss
XXII. Lights!

XXIII. The White Barbarians
XXIV. The Land of the Merucaans
XXV. The Dungeon of the Skeletons
XXVI. "You Speak English!"
XXVII. Doomed!
XXVIII. The Battle in the Dark
XXIX. Shadows of War
XXX. Exploration
XXXI. Escape?
XXXII. Preparations
XXXIII. The Patriarch's Tale
XXXIV. The Coming of Kamrou
XXXV. Face to Face with Death
XXXVI. Gage of Battle
XXXVII. The Final Struggle
XXXVIII. The Sun of Spring


CHAPTER I
BEGINNINGS
A thousand years of darkness and decay! A thousand years of blight, brutality, and
atavism; of Nature overwhelming all man's work, of crumbling cities and of forgotten
civilization, of stupefaction, of death! A thousand years of night!
Two human beings, all alone in that vast wilderness--a woman and a man.
The past, irrevocable; the present, fraught with problems, perils, and alarms; the
future--what?

A thousand years!
Yet, though this thousand years had seemingly smeared away all semblance of the world
of men from the cosmic canvas, Allan Stern and Beatrice Kendrick thrilled with as vital a
passion as though that vast, oblivious age lay not between them and the time that was.
And their long kiss, there in sight of their new home-to-be--alone there in that desolated
world--was as natural as the summer breeze, the liquid melody of the red-breast on the
blossomy apple-bough above their heads, the white and purple spikes of odorous lilacs
along the vine-grown stone wall, the gold and purple dawn now breaking over the distant
reaches of the river.
Thus were these two betrothed, this sole surviving pair of human beings.
Thus, as the new day burned to living flame up the inverted bowl of sky, this woman and
this man pledged each other their love and loyalty and trust.
Thus they stood together, his left arm about her warm, lithe body, clad as she was only in
her tiger-skin. Their eyes met and held true, there in the golden glory of the dawn.
Unafraid, she read the message in the depths of his, the invitation, the command; and they
both foreknew the future.
Beatrice spoke first, flushing a little as she drew toward him.
"Allan," she said with infinite tenderness, even as a mother might speak to a well-loved
son, "Allan, come now and let me dress your wound. That's the first thing to do. Come,
let me see your arm."
He smiled a little, and with his broad, brown hand stroked back the spun silk of her hair,
its mass transfixed by the raw gold pins he had found for her among the ruins of New
York.
"No, no!" he objected. "It's nothing--it's not worth bothering about. I'll be all right in a
day or two. My flesh heals almost at once, without any care. You don't realize how
healthy I am."
"I know, dear, but it must hurt you terribly!"
"Hurt? How could I feel any pain with your kiss on my mouth?"
"Come!" she again repeated with insistence, and pointed toward the beach where their
banca lay on the sand.
"Come, I'll dress your wound first. And after I find out just how badly you're injured--"
He tried to stop her mouth with kisses, but she evaded him.
"No, no!" she cried. "Not now--not now!"

Allan had to cede. And now presently there he knelt on the fine white sand, his bearskin
robe opened and flung back, his well-knit shoulder and sinewed arm bare and brown.
"Well, is it fatal?" he jested. "How long do you give me to survive it?" as with her hand
and the cold limpid water of the Hudson she started to lave the caked blood away from
his gashed triceps.
At sight of the wound she looked grave, but made no comment. She had no bandages; but
with the woodland skill she had developed in the past weeks of life in close touch with
nature, she bound the cleansed wound with cooling leaves and fastened them securely in
place with lashings of leather thongs from the banca.
Presently the task was done. Stern slipped his bearskin back in place. Beatrice, still
solicitous, tried to clasp the silver buckle that held it; but he, unable to restrain himself,
caught her hand in both of his and crushed it to his lips.
Then