the whining fearful mew of the cat beside him changed. It tensedagainst his body, and the whine in its animal throat became an iratehiss. He looked down and saw the hackles rising on the back of the cat,saw the creature looking up at him now, not with wide frightened eyes ofappeal, but with a ferocity of wildness that brought a chill to hisinner being.
And the glow grew around him, brilliant yellow in texture now. And withthe increasing brilliance of the light, the feeling of change grewwithin him.
It was stronger than he now. It held his every heartbeat in its pulsinggrip. It throbbed in his temples, ached to the ends of his toes, sethis body aflame with it.
And the cat suddenly lunged against him, its sharpened claws bitingthrough his garments and into his flesh.
His hands reached down in a quick movement and gripped the body of thecat. He tore the raking claws away from his body and held the cat in theair beside him.
The creature writhed in his grasp, fighting madly to escape. And as hisgrip tightened on the animal, the eyes of the cat suddenly locked withhis.
He felt the forces within him reach a crescendo at that moment. And hisbody was frozen immobile, his eyes locked on the cat's eyes, burninginto the animal, the animal burning into him. Burning and burning ...
It could only have been a matter of seconds, he knew. But they wereseconds that stretched into the farthermost reaches of eternity. Secondsthat lived a million years and passed in another fleeting instant.
And then he could move again.
And he felt strange as he moved. It was as if he was another person, asif the body he moved was alien to him, as if it had never belonged tohim, to any man, to any thing.
And his eyes tore away from the now dulled expression in the cat's eyes.He did not find it strange that this was so. He knew in some inner sensethat the mighty life force in him had quelled the cat. Had stilled thefighting in its feline eyes.
And he saw his hands clutching the body of the cat.
He stared at them for a long disbelieving moment. For they were not thehands he had known. They were not the hands of Blair Gaddon. They werenot the hands of any man. They were long and tapered and claw-like.There was dark fuzzy fur around them, fur that was cat-like.
Deep within him a fear struggled upward through his mind. A cold dreadthat forced his lips to move, to utter a gasp of the terror he felt.
And the sound left his lips.
It left his lips and echoed terribly in his ears. A harsh sound. Amewing sound. _A cat sound ..._
The creature in his grasp struggled feebly then. It was a smallmovement, a movement without vitality, almost without life. And as thecreature moved, a sense of rage welled up inside him. A rage that hecould not control, an anger that he wanted to unleash to its fullest.And as it took possession of him, the human part of his mind shriekedand forced words from his lips.
"_You fiend! You fiend of hell!_"
And his fingers crept up to the neck of the cat and closed in a mightygrip. He felt the animal give a single desperate effort in his grasp,but his grip tightened and he saw the mouth of the creature open wideand heard a faint hissing gasp as its tongue stuck far out and its eyesbulged in a last moment of life.
Then the animal lay limp in his claw-like hands and he dropped it to thefloor of the rocket chamber, a growl of frustration leaving his lips.
He stared at the cat's body for a moment, then his fingers stole up andtouched his face. He felt the hairy coarseness of it, the furry tingleof his once smooth skin. And he screamed into the now fading glow thathe knew was the energy of the cosmic rays.
"No! No! It can't be true! I haven't _changed_ like this!I--I--_meowrr_ ..."
Around him the thunder of the rocket fuel suddenly vanished intosilence, and then the rocket gave a lurch.
Deep within his mind he knew that the instrument section had beenreleased from the main body of the projectile, and even now he knew thesealed chamber was falling back toward the earth, back toward theatmosphere where the parachute would take hold and drift the chambersafely down to the Arizona soil.
And a dread closed over him in that moment. Back to the men. Back to thethings of men. Back he must go, a mewing thing that was not a man. Athing that he felt was taking hold of him, driving the last vestige ofhuman instinct from him.
He fought it. He fought it mewing on the floor of the rocket chamber.
* * * * *
"He must have gone mad!"
Fred Trent pulled his gaze from the sky and looked with stunned eyes atthe figure of Dr. Mathieson standing beside him. The scientist wastrembling with an inner feeling, and his head was shaking in disbelief.
"Gaddon! The man is going to his death! It's insane!"
Again Mathieson's voice broke the silence in the huddled group of men.Then the newspapermen came to life and excited talk became a jabber ofwords around them. Trent took the arm of Mathieson and turned him. Hetried to lead the scientist away from the newspapermen but one of themstepped forward and grabbed his arm.
"But why did he do it, doctor? The man must have had a reason!"
Mathieson shook his head numbly.
"I--I don't know, unless ..." his voice trailed off for a moment andthen he spoke again. "Unless he really believed what he said ..."
"What did he say, doctor?" the newsman asked.
There was a puzzled note to Mathieson's voice as he answered.
"He disagreed with me on the supposed effects of the cosmic rays. It hasbeen my contention that they are of lethal effect, and Gaddonmaintained that I was wrong. He kept insisting that they were a sourceof life energy. That was why we decided to experiment with an animal--tosee what effect the rays would have on a living creature ...
"But this! I never dreamed of such a possibility--to prove his point hesigned his own death warrant!"
"That's a story, doctor, a real story!"
Trent heard the newsman exclaim excitedly. And then it came to him thatthe real story was as yet untold. The real story that had been unfoldedin his car earlier that day.
Fred moved suddenly away from the clamor of the newsmen around thescientist. He knew what he had to do.
He hurried across the ground to his waiting coupe outside theAdministration building. Then he got behind the wheel and started themotor.
He drove to the gate and waited until the guard passed him through, thenhe turned up the road toward Tucson.
As he drove he felt an odd tenseness sweep through him. For he wasthinking of what Gaddon had said on the drive up to the Proving Grounds.He was remembering the man's words on the cosmic rays and the secret ofeternal life they held. And Fred Trent knew that this was the biggeststory. The story that he alone held. It was the big break that he hadbeen waiting for. It would be his exclusive. The inside, personal storyof a man who had died to prove his theory. Told as Gaddon himself hadrelated it. With all the vanity of the man, all the pompous assurance hehad shown. It would make the headlines and feature sections all over thecountry. The story of a man who had flown to his death in quest ofimmortality.
And then Trent's thoughts grew sober suddenly. But was he going to hisdeath? Could he be sure that Mathieson was right? That Gaddon wassuffering from some streak of insanity that had manifested itself inthis final venture of madness? Or could it be that Gaddon might beright, that ...
Trent set his lips and sighed. No, that couldn't be true. It was beyondthe comprehension of man.
What mattered now was the story. The story that would put his name in athousand papers all over the country. And he thought in that moment ofJoan Drake. A warm smile pulled at his lips as he thought of her. Thiswould force her to quit her job now and marry him. The one condition shehad made--he had finally overcome.
He thought of the date he was supposed to have with her that evening.It would have to be postponed until later. The story came first. Andthen ...
He drove his car swiftly through the outskirts of the city and into themain part of town. Then he pulled up before the
offices of the _TucsonStar_ and left his car at the curb.
* * * * *
He entered the building, took the elevator to his floor and walked intothe city room. The clatter of typewriters met his ears and the sound wassweet to him in that moment.
He crossed swiftly to his desk and sat dawn. Then he motioned to a copyboy. The boy came up to his desk.
"Jerry, tell the chief to hold up the form on page one. I've got aspecial--an accident out at the Proving Grounds. Headline copy."
The youth hurried away toward the office of the City Editor, and Fredpicked up his phone and dialed a number. He waited a moment and then thevoice of Joan Drake came across the wire.
"Dr. Fenwick's office."
"Joan, this is Fred."
The girl's voice laughed across the wire. "Don't tell me you're planningto break our date? Just when I get all dressed up."
A smile crossed Trent's lips. "You're almost psychic, honey.
The Monster Page 5
