The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Sphere of Sleep, by Chester S. Geier

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

Title: The Sphere of Sleep

Author: Chester S. Geier

Release Date: June 9, 2010 [EBook #32750]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SPHERE OF SLEEP ***

Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

The SPHERE of SLEEP

By CHESTER S. GEIER

[Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from Amazing Stories December
1942. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
copyright on this publication was renewed.]

[Sidenote: Brad Nelson had a perfect way to kill Big Tim without any
danger of being accused. Then his foot slipped and he was hurled into an
unknown world.]

"I've got to kill you, Big Tim. I've just got to kill you! I want
Laura--and you're standing in my way...."

The thought beat urgently and continuously in Brad Nellon's mind. He was
absorbed in it to the extent that the terrible Titanian gale which
roared beyond the shelter of his thermalloy suit was forgotten.

Beside him, the object of his deadly thoughts strode unknowing. His
large, brown face crinkled in a grin of boyish enjoyment, Tim Austin was
fighting his way through the fierce drive of wind and snow. That grin
was always there. It was as much a part of him as his thick, tow hair,
his gentle brown eyes and giant's frame. He was big and carefree, and
life ran rich and full in his veins.

On Brad Nellon's face there was no enjoyment in the battle against the
storm. There was not even his usual resentment of the bitter cold and
the thick, white snow. His grey eyes were covered with a heavy film of
thought. He walked in a world where there was no storm save that of his
emotions, no reality outside of the imagery constructed by his brain.
His stocky, powerful form plodded along mechanically.

They moved in a world of snow and ice and screaming wind. Great
pinnacles and ridges, worn into fantastic shapes by the gale, towered on
every side. The curtain of snow occasionally lifted to reveal white
hills marching up