But the normally cold, distant Mummy couldn’t conceal her excitement as she examined Lord Cawley’s treasures. She had come to see the great mummified ape, but even the smallest jars and stellae fascinated her. The curse might have struck only one hundred years earlier, but in this form Amuna was ancient. She remembered the heat, the shifting sands, and the Nile’s yearly flood. She recalled a time when she had been alive during ancient Egypt, as a great lady or even a princess, colouring her face with kohl and carefully plucking every hair from her body.
But whose spirit she now wore, she had no idea. She recalled nothing that would tell her anything about her identity. So she was just Amuna, a name she had plucked from the air.
Eventually she made it into the gorilla’s chamber. A great crowd had collected her to whisper and stare, but the ape was so tall he towered head and shoulders over the audience. He wore the elaborate headdress of a pharaoh, and tattered bandages still hung from the massive wrists crossed over his chest. Amuna wormed her way to the front, occasionally influencing people so she could pass through. She stared at the great beast in fascination. She had never seen a mummy so well preserved. The burial chamber had been so well sealed that nothing had penetrated it.
But Amuna could tell that the sudden exposure to fresh air – or rather London’s air – was already affecting Goril-Ho-Tep’s millennia-old skin. He wasn’t sealed within a glass cabinet – only ropes protected him from the general public. And as Amuna watched, a small child ducked under the rope and rushed across to touch the mummy’s bandages.
“Oy! Come away from there!” shouted a guard, rushing from a corner. The child poked his tongue out, scooted back across the floor and vanished into the crowd.
Goril-Ho-Tep won’t last long under these conditions. The thought saddened Amuna, but what could she do? He wasn’t like her. He was trapped, at the mercy of the general public and their bad breath, pipes, cigars and grasping fingers.
Suddenly Amuna couldn’t bear it any longer. She spun and stalked out, startling people who had been previously beguiled. She made her way back to the Circus, but couldn’t face taking her place in the mummy sideshow. Not that there were many wandering about today – the British Museum’s new Egyptian show had stolen a lot of customers. Even the Ringmaster was considering leaving London. She overheard him discussing their next move with Professor Abbacus.
Amuna stopped dead, remembering something about the Professor. He had a machine which he kept in a cabinet behind the Jacob’s Ladder. He called it the Immortality Machine and used it to create zombies. As Lady Frankenstein she helped him bring the dead to life, using her skills to create composite animals.
Could she use it to bring Goril-Ho-Tep to life?
She had to speak to Abbacus, but he was taking his time with the Ringmaster, the only person he actually seemed to enjoy communicating with. When they finally finished, the Professor immediately spun around and headed back to the big top, Amuna ran to catch up with him.
“Professor!” she called.
“What do you want?” he growled before he even realized who was calling him. Typical.
She got straight to the point because he hated any beating around the bush. “I need the Immortality Machine to resurrect Goril-Ho-Tep.”
He stopped and stared. “What? Who the Hell is Goril-Ho-Tep?”
“The mummy gorilla in the Egyptian Wing of the British Museum.”
“So he’s the one responsible. But why d’you want him?”
“He will not last long in the museum, Professor – I can already see him degenerating. And I thought…” She lowered her gaze because her luminous beguiling stare had no affect on Abbacus, “… I thought he could be a friend for me.”
The Professor snorted, expelling a cloud of sooty black smoke from his chimney. “A mummy gorilla, eh? Very well - I like a challenge. How d’you propose to get him out of the museum? Surely you don’t expect me to fetch him for you?”
He was going to help her! Amuna couldn’t believe her luck. “I’m sure Bus Boy and Steam Saw will help me to break into the museum after closing time.”
“I’ll leave the details to you because I trust your intelligence. But don’t get caught. The Circus has been coming under a lot of scrutiny lately. I will power up the Machine and have it ready for when you return.” With that, he continued on his way to the Big Top.
Amuna found Steam Saw and Bus Boy down near the roller coaster, which was still running, but only half-full. They were keeping an eye on a group of young drunks who were waiting their turn. Amuna beckoned the zombies over. As soon as she told them of her plan to break into the British Museum, their eyes lit up expectantly. Lounging around the Circus all day making sure fights didn’t break out was their responsibility, but it became boring after a while. A mission of thievery was just what they needed to get their undead blood flowing!
“D’you think the Professor will let us borrow the Automotivator again?” Bus Boy asked eagerly. “I had so much fun driving it last time.”
“We need to be stealthy, not show off to all of London!” hissed Amuna. “We will take an unmarked carriage and two normal steeds! By now everyone knows our Carnivorses!”
Bus Boy sighed theatrically, but Steam Saw just tipped his helmet in acknowledgement. Amuna wished he was the one who could talk, not Bus Boy!
The carriage sheds were located around the back of the Big Top, next to the engines. After dark, and using the noise of the late show as cover, the little group hooked up two horses and headed off the Circus’s grounds. The few people they passed spared their ordinary carriage not a second glance. Even Bus Boy had altered his appearance so he looked more normal. He had removed his distinctive cat-mask, replacing it with a black scarf with eyeholes cut out of it. He couldn’t very well appear without a mask at all as his eyes and all the flesh around his eye-sockets had been eaten away. His eyes were two eerie yellow flames. But in a high-collared coat, and with a broad-brimmed hat pulled low over his face, he looked like a well rugged up fellow out for an evening ride.
Amuna and the far more distinctive Steam Saw sat inside. Amuna welcomed the silence of her companion as she methodically went over their plan. She remembered the path through the museum to the Egyptian Wing and retraced her path, recalling every step of the journey.
When they reached their destination an hour later, Bus Boy parked the carriage down a side-street, and Amuna hypnotized the horses so they wouldn’t wander away. Then they headed for the front doors, which were, of course, locked. No matter. Amuna couldn’t become mist like the Vampiress, but she could melt into shadows and become two dimensional. She simply slid through the crack under the door. Appearing on the other side, she unlocked the door and let her zombie companions inside.
Although they were quiet and careful, they did meet one security guard on the way. Amuna simply locked eyes with him and dominated his mind, ordering him to forget everything he had seen. He wandered off in a daze, and then it was an easy matter for the trio to slip into the Egyptian exhibit and steal Goril-Ho-Tep’s coffin. With their enhanced undead muscles, Steam Saw and Bus Boy were able to lift the sarcophagus and carry it between them. They slipped out of a side entrance closer to where they had left the carriage, and tied the coffin to the roof, concealing it beneath a heavy tarpaulin they had brought for the purpose.
“Let’s hope the weight doesn’t cave the roof in,” muttered Bus Boy as he clambered back into the drivers’ seat.
“Relax – it is meant to take a lot of luggage,” Amuna soothed, but the thought worried her too. Their trip back seemed to take a lot longer, and was accompanied by lots of creaks and groans from the overworked conveyance. The horses were sweating and exhausted by the time they returned, and Felina scolded Amuna for bringing them back in such a state.
“Sometimes I think you undead creatures have no regard for the living,” she muttered under her breath.
But Amuna didn’t hear. Normally she did respect her living companions as much as the un
dead ones, but now her entire focus was on the sarcophagus that Steam Saw and Bus Boy carried between them from the carriage-house and through the labyrinthine back corridors of the Big Top. The last show had finished but the carnies were still cleaning up the seating area.
Professor Abbacus was waiting for them on his stage beside the Immortality Machine. Normally the device was kept locked in a special room, out of the way, but it could be rolled out on a track built into the floor. It needed to be connected to the Jacob’s Ladder power source, but it required almost as much energy to operate as the Omniportallis itself. The Professor had made sure all the fires were stocked and the boilers running at maximum power. Smoke and steam filled the air. Even so, Amuna still felt cold.
“Blimey, it’s as hot as a Turkish Bath in ‘ere!” gasped Bus Boy as he and Steam Saw deposited the coffin on the floor. “Only there’s no naked ladies,” he added in disappointment.
“Enough prattle. Let’s get this open and see what we have to work with.” The Professor gripped the edges of the sarcophagus and lifted the heavy wooden lid. The gorilla’s perfectly preserved face was revealed, eyes blazing, mouth open in a carefully structured scream. “Impressive preservation – I may not even need full power.” Abbacus mused. “Let’s get him prepared.”
The Immortality Machine resembled a large steel coffin covered with rivets, small porthole-like windows recessed around its sides. The lid could be raised and lowered by an overhead pulley system, and now hung several feet above. Across the mouth of the machine rested a metal grille for the subject to lie on, which could be lowered into the belly of the device by a large crank-handle on the side. The mummy gorilla was carefully stretched out on the grille, his thick limbs locked into the steel manacles. Then Abbacus turned the crank-handle, lowering him into the tank, which was full of salt water. “Alright – bring the lid down,” he ordered Amuna.
As Lady Frankenstein, she had performed this operation many times before. She knew exactly what to do, and even began to feel a degree of her counterpart’s excitement at bringing a new creation to life. Soon Goril-Ho-Tep would walk the earth again.
The Professor powered up the Jacob’s ladder. But instead of great coils of energy crawling up the twin poles towards the ceiling, all the electricity poured into the Immortality Machine. The distant engines began to whine in protest and the overhead lights flickered intermittently. Through the metal coffin’s portholes, everyone could see snakes of power snarling through the water, coursing into the subject’s lifeless body. None of the onlookers needed to breathe, but they all seemed to be holding their breath, even the Professor. Although he had performed this operation countless times, he was still excited at the thought of bringing back something new.
Then the metal lid flew off with a mighty bang, and the machine’s occupant rose with a dreadful roar, salty water pouring from his body. The shackles bound his wrists and ankles only a few seconds before snapping like cheap twine. Was this monster even stronger than X?
The Professor darted backwards, slamming a lever down to cut the power. “If he destroys anything in here I will kill you!” he shouted at Amuna. Steam Saw and Bus Boy chose that moment to leg it out of the room, hopefully to fetch the Ringmaster.
She knew he meant it, but she could feel Goril-Ho-Tep’s rage. He had been so well preserved that he now thought he was alive. He was suffering his last, desperate memory before dying. Amuna stepped forward despite her fear, convinced the giant ape would stomp her flat as he leapt from the tank. But she had to try and calm him down. From behind her came the whine of capacitors as the Professor powered up the portable lightning-thrower in his arm. He wasn’t taking any chances.
“Goril-Ho-Tep!” she shouted. Her strident voice made it through the creature’s fury and he glared down at the scrawny being that dared to confront him. But as he caught her luminous gaze he realized that here was a kindred spirit, someone that felt as he did, lost and alone in a strange new world. “It’s alright,” she soothed, speaking the ancient tongue. “There’s no need to fear – you’re in a safe place now.”
The ape lowered his arms, still wearing the machine’s manacles as wristbands, and all the fury fled from his red-eyed gaze. He lumbered towards Amuna to examine her more closely. She held out her hands and he leaned in to sniff her, pausing at the necklace around her throat. He grunted.
“I am Amuna – I am like you,” she whispered, stroking the coarse black fur on the back of his neck. “But I am also Victoria-7. Please trust the rest of me as well.”
“And you’d better include the rest of us,” Professor Abbacus growled as he powered his lightning-thrower down. “I don’t fancy that brute trying to eat me as soon your back is turned.”
“Within the Circus you are safe,” Amuna told the gorilla. “We are all your friends.” She sent him images of the other circus folk, and each new friend calmed him further. By the time the Ringmaster marched in, flanked by Bus Boy and Steam Saw, Goril-Ho-Tep was sitting on the floor allowing Amuna to scratch him behind an ear. Abbacus stood by watching, his arms folded.
“You picked a fine time to crank up the Immortality Machine, Icarus,” The Ringmaster declared. “You’ve woken the entire circus! I thought we agreed not to use it here because it would attract too much attention!”
“Amuna came with an offer I couldn’t refuse.” The Professor gestured towards the great ape. “I had to see if it would work on him.”
The Ringmaster’s catlike blue eyes widened in amazement. “Wait a minute – is that the mummy gorilla from the British Museum?” He slapped his forehead in exasperation. “What have you done?”
The Professor gave a snort. “Well … you could say just eliminated our chief opposition!”
The famous Baker Street detective sat with the IntelliGent in his private club. They were playing chess. The detective had a snuffbox full of cocaine and a large glass of port beside him. The Gent sipped a clear liquid. Of all the weird concoctions he had tried to make his brain work faster, nothing worked better than good, old-fashioned water.
“So, have you actually been to the Circus Infinitus?” asked the Detective as he moved a pawn.
The IntelliGent sniffed disdainfully as he shifted one of his own pieces. “Mindless entertainment for the mindless masses with a few bangs and whistles thrown in. Why should I bother?”
The Detective nudged a rook. “You may be surprised. Some of the tricks even took me a few minutes to figure out.”
The Gent lifted a piece in response. “I have enough reports from that place to sustain me for now.” Truthfully, the Gent didn’t want to go anywhere near that mind-reading Ringmaster in case his shields weren’t up to the job. But of course he wasn’t admitting that to the Detective! He hoped the Stigmata would succeed where his Immaterium imps had failed.
“So how do you explain their new mummy gorilla? Necromancy?” The Detective sniggered as he made his move.
The Gent countered by using his bishop to take one of the Detective’s pawns. “Of course not! We all know there’s no such thing. They have obviously managed to grab a similar ape and dress it up in bandages.”
The Detective shifted a knight. “And the disappearance from the British Museum?”
“Obviously engineered by the Circus to make it look like they resurrected the gorilla. For publicity purposes, of course. Look at all the crowds there now!” The Gent made another move. “Of course the police can’t prove anything. The Ringmaster’s seen to that.”
“I’m glad you managed to figure it out.” The Detective smiled thinly. “Check mate by the way.”
Fool’s Errand
Bishop Victoris met with the Monocle in his private apartments in St James, eager to hear what his British contact had to say. Despite the wealth of the area, the Monocle’s rooms were bare and sparsely furnished, his windows wide open to let in the cold December air. Even in his thick, sumptuous clerical robes, the Bishop shivered. There was such a thing as taking one’s devotion too far, but he wasn’
t about to admit that to Sir Hubert. Time was of the essence.
The Monocle sat in an uncomfortable wooden chair, one of three similar such chairs in the room. Across from him perched another gentleman with pale skin, freckles and curly red hair. He held a pipe in one hand, but it was unlit. No doubt Sir Hubert forbid smoking in his sitting room.
“Bishop, please sit down,” the Monocle suggested.
Forcing his ample bulk into one of those backside-torturers would be almost as bad as standing, but the Bishop did as invited. “So, what do you have for me today?” he asked. “Please be quick – events are rapidly spinning out of control. I fear we only have a few days left to act.”
“Of course, Bishop.” Sir Hubert gave a thin smile and gestured to the angular man beside him, who was now twiddling his handle-bar moustache in irritation. “I have done as instructed and found a suitable member of the Jefferson family line. This is Bartholomew Sabbath. His mother’s maiden name is Jefferson. She is Alexander’s younger sister.”
Bishop Victoris rubbed his upper-most chin. “He may be too far removed from the firstborn. Why couldn’t you find Alexander’s firstborn? Or at least one of his other children?”
“After Sir Alexander Jefferson squandered the family fortune and killed himself, his children went into hiding, probably to avoid his creditors. I could track them down, but it’ll take weeks. And like you said, we don’t have weeks. This must be done now.”
The Bishop sighed heavily.
“Why the sudden urgency, anyway? The Circus has been there for over a month. I doubt it will move before Christmas. And surely we will receive warning before it does? Such an enormous layout will take time to disassemble.”
“Fool! You know it appeared in one night, fully set up! It will disappear with the same speed. The Ringmaster and his necromancer command unholy powers, some of which I experienced a few days ago. I felt dark energies blaze into existence, drawing the dead back to the world the living. They woke me from a deep sleep. The Circus must be stopped, and it must be stopped now!”
The Circus Infinitus Stories Volume 1 Page 8
