Rat-A-Tat: Short Blasts of Pulp

by Russ Anderson, Jr

  For long moments he stood there, dirt falling from his uniform, his ears, his lips. The detonation of the blast had destroyed all the lanterns that had lined the stairwell, but at the very top, the faint light of the sun glowed, outlining the door in light that stung his eyes. It hurt, but it was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

  With a shuddering, shambling step, the boy began his ascent back toward the light. The earth would not hold him. He would see mountains and sky again. Behind him, he left the cowardly boy he had been to rot in the depths of darkness. He was reborn now. His name was Exeter Nox, and from this moment on, he vowed that he would never allow fear to control him again. Step by step, Exeter Nox climbed from the pit of his death and into the light of a new life.

  DEEP… BELOW

  By Jaime Hudson

  “Yes, into the breach we go again!” pronounced Pennyworth to his long time good friend and co-inventor, Professor of Science, Truman Lightfoot. “But not in haste, my boy. You know it’s been almost four years since our last, rousing adventure.”

  The year was 1906, and the location the main Tampa, Florida laboratory of Sir Stanley Pennyworth, who was holding detailed sketches of a very new machine that another inventor, a Mr. Burton Van Lansing, had mailed to him only a few days before. For the past several years, Pennyworth and Lightfoot had busied themselves at improving on their past small inventions, teaching at local schools, and such. But Pennyworth now envisioned many exciting possibilities on the near horizon that lay just ahead.

  “You are quite right, Pen, but what exactly is this machine?” asked a very interested Truman.

  “Well, True, this new vehicle is much more modest than our one and last great effort, the C.O.S.M.O.S. +T, but a fantastical device, for sure. Also, the main power source driving it is like something right out of Jules Verne. But the best part of all is the damn thing’s already been built! Mr. Van Lansing is coming over for dinner tonight to discuss his new machine and why he wants us in on his forthcoming venture with it.”

  Van Lansing was a hard-working self-made man like Pennyworth, and was also a descendant of African slaves. Sir Stanley was very much excited to soon be meeting him.

  ***

  Pennyworth’s new cook, Miss Mayweather, set down the last items on the large wooden table in the dining salon and excused herself for the evening. Truman inhaled the aromas of the beef mutton, various cooked greens, and the top-hat-high biscuits – so good with butter and fresh strawberry, guava, or local sea grape jam on them. His mouth watered.

  Pennyworth and his new guest, Burton Van Lansing, seemed less interested in the meal waiting before them, being engrossed in going over the latest blueprints of The Mole. The Mole was the name, quite proper for sure, of Van Lansing’s manned deep-digging machine. The machine was also capable of operating in the ocean or fresh lakes, up to a certain water depth and pressure.

  Oh, well… thought Truman to himself, and started in on his own feasting, as he had not eaten much since having a hearty breakfast a near eon ago. The sounds of his tableware and such brought Pennyworth and Van Lansing out of their reverie.

  “Oh, my good Burton, forgive me. Seems that dinner’s been served already. Go ahead and dig in, my boy!” Van Lansing was a good twenty or so years his junior, and not more than a few years older than Truman.

  “Thank you, Sir Stanley. I have not had such a grand-looking meal in quite a while,” responded the rugged, yet handsome, coffee-coloured inventor and mining expert.

  Too soon, Pennyworth handed the new blueprints, along with some diagrams and maps, to poor Truman, who just wished to get in his fill before discussing anything at hand.

  “Now, Truman, our good visitor Mr. Van Lansing has asked us to go on the next test of his Mole machine. He has a vast knowledge of mining, and some grand theories on where some new gold and other mineral deposits are to be found. And I agree with him that the Mole is the best way to get at them in short order. He has kindly agreed to let us take any science and other equipment we see fit on a trip into the near bowels of the Deep Earth,” spoke an excited Pennyworth.

  “Sounds quite grand, Mr. Van Lansing. Have you studied with Edison or Tesla, or other inventors, as Pen and I have?” offered Truman, starting off the business of the evening as they all continued to dine on the wonderful meal there on the table.

  “Yes, Sir Truman, but not with the two gentlemen you just mentioned,” replied Burton. “I have studied their theories, though. I also have studied the works of Royal Rife, T. Henry Moray, and Walter Russell, as well. And I did spend six months in Germany studying under Master Viktor Schauberger himself. All of their theories and inventive genius have I incorporated, over time, with my own - and into my Mole machine.”

  Soon enough, the three got engrossed into a very long conversation that went on into the wee hours and early morning of the very next day.

  ***

  A week later the three adventurer-inventors were all provisioned up. So much so that the Mole interior was quite cramped indeed. But better to give up some lounging space then to be unprepared for anything that might develop or confront them on their trip.

  Truman had thoroughly gone over the blueprints of The Mole, but to see the real thing before him now was almost a shock indeed. It was a most impressive-looking machine. He was also quite impressed with its inventor, Van Lansing, to accomplish such a feat.

  The Mole was over forty feet long, from the gigantic drilling apparatus at the nose to the rudder and brass propellers at the tail end. It was mostly a huge cylinder in between, and rested on two very rugged looking sets of a very recent invention – caterpillar tracks.

  There was an entry hatch in the port side, and also a second hatch at the top of the main cylinder. There were also many mechanical protrusions on the sides, which, along with the drilling nose and caterpillars, would accomplish access and motion through the Earth, as well as travel on the bottom of a sea or deep lake up to a certain depth and pressure. And the Mole carried an equally impressive set of self-defensive devices: external electro-bolt guns, Thermite grenade-bomb launchers, and more secret gear and knobs in the main driver / controls area. The plans Pennyworth had been given did not tell all.

  The Mole rested on a specially built steam locomotive rail car, which brought it to a spot by the Gulf of Mexico, not far from where the Rio Grande finally emptied into the sea.

  “Your Mole machine is a very beautiful creation, indeed, Mr. Van Lansing!” spoke Truman, to their journey’s soft spoken host.

  “Thank you, Mr. Lightfoot. Please, call me Burton, or B.V. for short. I have gotten used to being called that over the years.”

  “Oh, yes. Well, B.V., just call us True and Pen. Keeps it all simple, I suppose.”

  ***

  Soon enough, the train and rail cars carrying the three intrepid inventors and the Mole arrived at their destination. It was not long before everything was unloaded and trucked to a spot near where the fresh and salt waters mixed together. Quickly, all their gear and themselves were loaded aboard the interior of the metallic monster-machine.

  “Well, here we go,” spoke Van Lansing, as the Mole’s engines were brought to life and she worked her way, riding on the caterpillar treads, off into the Gulf waters.

  As the small portholes of the Mole were covered by the water, Truman had a tight lump in his throat. He said a small prayer that the Mole truly would live up to the claims that B.V. had made over the past days and nights.

  As the Mole went deeper into the depths, on the bottom of the Gulf sands, they all gave a big cheer of “Hurrah, hurrah!” for the Mole – and its creator, Van Lansing.

  An hour or so later, after travelling and testing various elements and equipment aboard the Mole, the three spied a curious-looking structure just ahead of them on the sea bed. It looked like a temple made of stone blocks and similar to the Great Pyramid of Egypt – just a wee bit smaller.

  “My word – this is a fantastical discovery, my dear B.V.,” spoke a very a
nimated Pen.

  “Yes, B.V., quite amazing, indeed!” added Truman. Burton only gave a short grunt.

  There was a kind of street, made of more stone blocks, leading away from the temple, and the Mole followed it, over time, to a large cavernous opening. Of course they pressed onward, and into the cave mouth. This is most curious, thought Pennyworth.

  The various instruments and compass readings of the Mole all indicated that this cave was heading deep under the Rio Grande River system itself. “This confirms some theories of a few geologists I have known and studied,” B.V. said.

  Truman and Pennyworth were both too breathless to let out anything more than a gasp.

  For several more hours the cave went on, and soon the Gulf waters were left behind. They tested the air, now outside the Mole, and found that it was rich in oxygen, and safe.

  Stopping at a larger cathedral-like area of the cave system, they took a meal break. Before they had taken many bites of food, it was Van Lansing’s turn to let out a gasp.

  “Pen and True – we have a visitor, if you can believe your own eyes!” spoke B.V.

  “My word, you are correct, my good Burton,” answered Pennyworth. “True, does that not look, much like –”

  “Yes, Pen – it looks much like the Volcanian man we met before,” Truman interjected.

  A tall man, wearing a dark coloured robe and carrying an antique lantern, approached them.

  As he got closer, they all could clearly see his pointed ears; otherwise he looked like any man from the surface, but with a more stern looking visage and expression on his face.

  Burton popped open the top hatch of the Mole, and Pennyworth climbed up to talk.

  “Why, hello there – do you speak English? And are you a Volcanian?” queried Pen.

  “Yes, Earth Surface dweller, I do, and am. My name is Tu’Vollo,” spoke the stranger.

  “Tu'Vollo. My associate Truman here, and I,” said Pennyworth, pointing to True, “once met another Volcanian man named Tu-Baak, in another faraway cavern system.”

  “Yes, my tribe is a related, similar one, under what you call North America,” replied the unusual-looking, but quite calm speaking man before the three adventurers. Tu’Vollo then gave the exterior of the Mole a quick overall glance. “A very fascinating travelling machine you surface men have there. Please, if you and your machine would slowly follow me on ahead, you are welcome to meet my people.”

  Tu'Vollo was a fast walker, and in not much time the Mole parked near a small city.

  The inhabitants of the cavern city were made up of several tribes. Besides the Volcanians, they met a few elders of the Mole Men, the Bird People, and, to Truman’s delighted surprise, the cat-like humanoids, similar to Ka-Leeta of the tribe that he and Pen once had met, in another far away adventure, only four years back.

  After the three had enjoyed a special dinner by their Inner Earth hosts, Van Lansing and Pennyworth engaged the various elders in a long discussion on many topics. Burton was especially engrossed in this society of such varied types of beings that seemingly were living all together, and quite harmoniously. He reflected on his own ancestors' hard lives, and how just the shape of one’s nose, or the colour of skin, would so often cause such deep felt hatred and discord over such mere appearances.

  In the meantime, Truman got a bit bored and soon wandered back to where the Mole sat. He then partook of the rare smoke of a small cigar he sometimes allowed himself after a good and hearty meal. Leaning against the side of the Mole, he silently thought about the events since they left the surface world behind.

  Truman’s quiet solace was soon shattered, as he heard a loud cat-like scream, from not too far away. He grabbed a pistol from the Mole and one of his Ever-Bright lanterns, and ran off toward the now quieted screams. In mere moments, he raised the pistol and let off a shot, just above the head of a lizard-man that was trying to muffle the mouth of a robed female cat-race being. He also apparently had blinded the strange offender temporarily with his bright lantern. The lizard man soon let go of the cat woman, and then scurried off and quickly away from the outskirts of the city and nearby Mole craft.

  “Are you alright, Miss? My name is Truman,” was all that True could think to say.

  “Yes. I thank the gods of my people that you came when you did. My name is Bellatrix, and I am very grateful to you, surface visitor,” spoke the striped and Siamese coloured cat woman, in a similar lilting-voiced purr that Truman had heard once before.

  “Who or what was that lizard creature, and why did he attack you?” asked Truman.

  “He was a spy from the Deep Dragon clan,” she answered. “They are lizard people, and do not like any but their own kind. I suspect he was trying to learn of your friends, and of your strange travelling machine – which the lizards would likely see as a threat. I had come back early from a bath at the nearby hot springs with my two sisters, and was just unlucky enough to have surprised him right here.”

  “I assure you, Bellatrix, that we are not a threat to you or your peoples, or to anyone down below. We are merely inventors on an exploration of this world under our own,” spoke Truman, helping steady her. “You say there are hot mineral springs nearby? That sounds quite good, after that meal and very short smoke,” he said hopefully.

  “A smoke – what is that?” she asked, curious as a… Truman explained and then lit up a new small cigar, letting Bellatrix gave it a try. She actually seemed to like it.

  “Come, True-Man, and I will share one of my people's after-meal pleasures with you,” she purred, leading him back to the vernal falls and hot springs, where the bathing was something between a ritual and an evening’s healthy refreshment.

  He was a bit taken aback, being asked to disrobe before such a female creature as she, but his Old World scruples soon fell away. He took his time in enjoying the warm caress of the waters – and much more – that Bellatrix rewarded him, for his bravery toward her.

  Having once owned housecats for pets, he had often wondered what it would be like to be licked clean, all over his naked body. He found it to be quite a splendid experience. Bellatrix, and her two sisters, soon had Truman clean as a shiny new whistle. And later that night, he had the best sleep of his life in her soft, feather-lined bed, as her tail gently patted and caressed his back.

  ***

  The next morning – it was hard to tell, down in these caverns, but the timepieces in the Mole and in all their pockets seemed to bear it out – the three adventurers had another long discussion with the various tribal elders about how to safely proceed in their journey.

  The locations of the Deep Dragon lizard men – as far as was known – was shown on a simple, yet easy enough to understand set of maps. After that, they were on their own.

  They all gave their farewells and thanks to the people of the Deep City.

  Truman’s farewells to Bellatrix and her two sisters were perhaps the fondest, yet saddest, farewell of all. He promised that he would return and visit with her again. He left her one of his trademark lamps, a small serigraph portrait of himself, and one of the new electrical-bolt pistols that he and Pennyworth had recently perfected to protect her people from the lizards. She gave him a wet, furry kiss, and a hug – and the delicate golden necklace with a jade cat-head pendant she was wearing when they first met.

  Time was moving so slowly for Truman, yet also very fast, as the Mole too quickly departed from the small underground city. Hopefully, he thought, I will return.

  ***

  Van Lansing learned much, as did Pennyworth, from their talks with the city's tribal elders. He even suspected much more than was said about what gold or mineral wealth that might be found by him and his Mole machine. He had spent many long months and many hard-earned and invested monies in the building of the steel-iron Mole-Submarine craft. Soon, he was sure, it would all pan out - and he would become a very rich man. A very rich man, indeed.

  Having resupplied the Mole with adequate air and food supplies from the city, it
was not more than another several days that the Mole came upon the ancient ruins of another city – but one long ago abandoned by its makers, whoever they were. And this city was very different in design and decoration from the inhabited one they had recently left. This city looked a bit like the ones of very old Egypt, with a bit of Meso-American architecture thrown in. There was a massive pyramid with several smaller ones nearby; there was also an ornate temple, overgrown with dense vegetation, yet absolutely fit for a true god, either real or imagined.

  “Who could have built such a wondrous city – and then simply abandon it?” thought Truman out loud.

  “My guess is the descendants of Lemuria, True,” responded Burton.

  “Why, yes! I have read a bit on that mythical land myself,” added Pennyworth.

  “Pen, I hate to admit my ignorance in this, but what is, or was, Lemuria?” asked True.

  “Lemuria was a fabled civilization of long, long ago, much like that of Atlantis, but of the Pacific region,” was the short answer produced by Sir Stanley.

  “My word – we could spend months simply studying this city!” gasped Pennyworth.

  Unseen by the other two, Van Lansing gave a quick, subtle smirk. He had little time for any in-depth surveying of mere buildings and relics; he was after so much more.

  “Well, shall we make camp for the night, my good fellows?” suggested Burton.

  “Yes, quite a good idea, B.V. – and my old bones would be most happy to oblige,” replied Sir Stanley.