The Slime Beast

by Guy N Smith

  THERE was virtually no wind again that night and a mist was forming across the salt-marshes, that would thicken as the moon rose. Gavin was grateful that they were not setting forth on any kind of expedition tonight The perils of the Wash would be increased tenfold. Not only was there the chance of walking into the Slime Beast but also the dangers of quicksands and fast-running tides.

  'Not a night to be abroad,' he told Liz as he pulled the thick wooden board back over the slitted window. 'I hope there's no mist tomorrow or it could be doubly tricky.'

  Shortly after nine o'clock they heard footsteps in the tiny corridor and then the door being wrenched open and closed again.

  Gavin rose to his feet. 'Your uncle's going out. On a night like this. I half-suspected it though. He's not said a word to us since he came in.'

  'He must be mad,' Liz snapped. 'He'll fall in a bog or something if the Slime Beast doesn't get him. We'd best follow him don't you think?'

  Gavin shook his head.

  'No,' he replied, 'definitely not. Tm not going out and neither are you. That's final. If he wants to end up in a watery grave that's his business. Nobody asked him to go. We're not going out and that's that. Not without that flame-gun anyhow!'

  Professor Lowson was breathing heavily by the time he reached the edge of the spike-grass. The netting was heavier than he had thought, so he dropped it on to the ground behind him, to rest his tired muscles.

  He consulted his compass for the umpteenth time that night. Damn this mist! It would decide to come down tonight of all nights. He peered in front of him, but visibility was restricted to five yards at the most, and he could not even see the mud-flats although he knew that he was standing on the edge of them.

  Maybe the weather was to his advantage though. He might be able to get right up to the Slime Beast without it even being aware of his presence. He smiled at the thought. He had no fear of it His reasoning went beyond that. He thought of the future afer he had captured it. There was no doubt in his mind that he would take it prisoner. If not tonight, tomorrow or the next night. If only that fool Gavin Royle would aid him. Still, now he would have the power all to himself. There would be nobody to share it with.

  He lit his pipe and settled down to wait It was going to be a long, cold night

  The moon was high above him when he heard the first squelching splash of lumbering footsteps. The Slime Beast was coming up out of the sea! He fumbled for the net and released the four grappling hooks. There would only be one chance!

  The mist seemed to thicken still more. It swirled in front of his face blotting out everything. There was only silence, nothing moved. He listened again, as the minutes ticked agonisingly by. What was it doing? Had it sensed his presence? Perhaps it could see through fog! If so, surely it would attack him.

  Then he heard it again, rasping, grunting, far away behind him. He was angry, perplexed. How had it passed him without him hearing it? It was far from a silent mover.

  He walked a little way to his left following the line of spartina grass where it adjoined the mud-flats. Then suddenly he stopped. Another step and he would have fallen into the muddy depths of the big creek where it ran into the sea.

  Realisation dawned upon him. The Slime Beast had floated inland on this deep rivulet! Blast the fog! He would have seen it otherwise. He swung the bundle of netting on to his shoulder, consulted his compass, and trudged back into the spike-grass. It would be hopeless to try. and follow the beast. Maybe tomorrow night there would be no fog ...

  Sutton village slept. The mist which had filtered up from the salt-marshes became thick fog which seemed more eerie in the bright moonlight which struggled to penetrate it.

  The rows of cottages and houses were reminders of a past era, of primitiveness, and poverty. Even in this affluent age they had not moved with the tunes. That was the way these people of the Wash wanted it: static; removed from the outside world.

  Far away across the Fens the church clock at Holbeach struck one. The sound was muffled by the thickening vapour yet almost every inhabitant of Sutton heard it. Almost all were in bed yet none slept Few had slept easily in Sutton these past few nights.

  Some remembered the legend of the guardian of King John's treasure. Tom Southgate had seen ,to it that those who had not heard of it were duly informed. The story spread faster than the fire which had once ravaged Harrison's Mill, fanned into further destruction by the sea-breeze.

  'It's them lot in the old blockhouse .who've stirred it all up,' the landlord had boomed countless times from behind his bar. 'There'll be no peace in Sutton until they've gone!'

  Angry murmurings had run through the crowded bar. Yet there had been a reluctance to go out and 'do 'em' in contrast with the other night. There was something unnatural about the whole business. Why should a man like Glover decide to help the party? Without his interference the archaeologists would have been deep in the quicksands, by now.

  Silence, except for the clattering of a dustbin lid behind Growson's shop. Everybody heard it. They knew what it was and breathed easily. Rex, Growson's massive black Alsatian was always loose at night, prowling like the wolf it resembled. It harmed none. It just scavenged.

  People tossed restlessly in their beds. Some dozed. Few slept deeply. The Holbeach church clock chimed the quarters. Two am. More dustbin lids clanged.

  Rex reached the wharf and sniffed the river. Usually he liked a foul stench. It reminded him of the food he ate. It was worse than usual tonight though. His hackles rose slightly and a low growl rumbled hi his throat. There was something that he did not understand in the night air; something evil—powerful. It frightened him a little. He decided to head back home.

  The smell seemed to follow him. It was pungent and penetrating. He growled again and increased his pace to a steady lope. The fog did not worry him. He knew every alley in Sutton by scent He did not need to see. He ran past The Bull into the Main Street, then suddenly he stopped.

  There was something in the road. He could make out a vague shape, similar to Man yet it was not Man! The stench was stronger now, halting him like an invisible barrier. He looked up. The thing was much bigger now than it had at first appeared. A breeze was blowing, dispersing the mist with every second. Slimy scales glinted in the moonlight Rex wanted to flee, but his muscles refused to yield to his natural instinct He barked. It sounded feeble. The beast let out a low rasping growl. It took a step forward. Then another. Then it had him.

  The long drawn-out howl of canine fear brought the usually slow-moving Tom Southgate from his bed to the windows in a single bound. He peered out. The mist had cleared completely. Then he saw the Slime Beast for the first time. It was holding Rex at head height. The Alsatian was struggling desperately, snarling and snapping at the scaly claws which held it. Vicious canine teeth clamped down on a stinking slimy arm. They crunched and snapped, and a smattering of broken bloody fangs dropped to the road.

  'What is it?' Marjorie Southgate sat up in bed. 'What's going on out there Tom?'

  The publican clutched at the window-sill for support. 'It's a... beast! It's killing Rex! It really exists.'

  The Slime Beast had got Rex by the neck now. Snapping the vertebrae was a simple matter. It flung the lifeless Alsatian to the ground. Claws sunk into the fur and ripped at the flesh, then the beast dropped down on all fours in order to dismember its victim more easily.

  Rex was disembowelled in a matter of seconds. The Slime Beast grabbed ravenously at the heart and liver, stuffing them simultaneously into the slitted mouth. It gurgled and squelched as it masticated, blood and entrails dripping.

  Tom Southgate pushed Marjorie back roughly as she approached the window.

  'Don't!' he yelled, 'for Christ's sake don't look. It'll send you out of your mind! '

  She flopped back on the bed quivering.

  The landlord rushed to the far comer of the room. He grabbed the twelve-bore which lay on top of the wardrobe and fumbled in the dressing-table drawer for cartridges. It seemed an eter
nity before he located a couple and pushed them in to the open breech. He did not speak. Words just would not come. Possibly because there was nothing to say. nothing intelligible anyway.

  The window-sash was stiff, and he had to use all his strength to force it open. The beast was still there, but there wasn't much left of poor old Rex now, he noted. Head. Legs. A few strips of fur. He remembered the reports on Manton Haywood's corpse. There was no doubt what had been responsible for that.

  The thing stood up and turned in Southgate's direction. Did it see him? If so, it gave no sign. He sighted it. The fearsome countenance was directly in line with the twin barrels. He squeezed the triggers, both together. Take that you bastard!

  The recoil from the double charge flung him backwards. He staggered, regained his balance and rushed back to the window. The beast was still there, unmoved, just looking up at him. Sightless or seeing?

  'Jesus wept!' He pushed Marjorie back again. 'More cartridges, quick woman. Tip those drawers out. Shell the bastard.'

  Windows were being flung open down the street. A man cursed. Some women were screaming. The men folk had been roused by Southgate's shots. The idea caught on. Moonlight glinted on several pairs of gun barrels. Breeches snapped shut. Safety-catches and hammers clicked.

  But the Slime Beast appeared not to heed them. It had fed and was satisfied, so there was nothing further to detain it here. It began to lumber off up the street in the direction of the salt marshes, greyish-green slime dripping from its scales, blood trickling from its jaws.

  Then a deafening boom rang out Somebody was using a heavy four-bore, its cracking report almost drowning those of the lesser gauges. Fire, reload, fire! Flame stabbed from a dozen or so windows, in a vicious crossfire of angry lead shot, fired by men who could kill a springing teal in the half-light of dawn or dusk simply by snap-shooting. Now they were presented with a target a hundred times larger, almost stationary.

  Tom Southgate dropped his gun to the floor. There were no more cartridges. The barrels were almost too hot to hold anyway. Somewhere at the end of Main Street somebody was still shooting. The man with the four-gauge. It was his last cartridge, and the Slime Beast was level with him now. Twenty yards, no more. An easy head shot. His shoulder ached but he punished it again. Dense clouds of black-powder smoke filled the room and hung heavily over the village street.

  The Slime Beast moved on, unperturbed.

  In the end house a large man was pulling on a dark blue uniform. The silver-plated buttons were more difficult than usual to fasten. He reached for helmet and truncheon, changed his mind and picked up the telephone receiver. This was no matter for a village constable. A higher authority had to be consulted.

  CHAPTER NINE

  IT was midday when Chief-Inspector Harborne and Detective-Inspector Borg arrived at the blockhouse. They had noted the absence of the Land Rover by the sea-wall and at first glance the concrete building appeared to be deserted. However, just as they were preparing to enter, Professor Lowson appeared in the open doorway. He was unkempt and dressed in an open-necked shirt and ex-cavalry trousers. He gave the impression of just having risen from his bed.

  'Good morning gentlemen.'

  He was more affable than usual. 'What can I do for you?'

  'We've now established beyond all doubt,' Harborne was inclined to be abrupt, dispensing with any formal greeting, 'that there's a dangerous creature on the loose. God only knows where it came from and where it's hiding. Anyway it paid a visit to Sutton village last night, killed a dog... and ate it! Almost everyone who owns a gun opened up on it. They might just as well have used pea-shooters for al the difference it made.'

  Professor Lowson lit his pipe and waited for the other to continue.

  'Where's Mr Royle and Miss Beck?' Harborne snapped.

  'Gone into Spalding for supplies,' Lowson replied, eyeing the two official men keenly. He was far from pleased but managed to conceal his feelings. Too many people were showing an interest hi the Slime Beast for his liking. He made no effort to invite his visitors inside. The sooner they left the better.

  "I've called in the Army.' Harborne made no secret of the importance which he felt 'Some heavy artillery and a few soldiers will be moving into the village this afternoon. I have no doubt in my own mind that this creature will return; if not tonight then tomorrow, or the next night. Whichever it is, we'll settle it once and for all. Make no mistake about that! '

  Lowson wished they would go. However they did not seem to be in any hurry to depart

  'We retrieved the remains of Glover yesterday afternoon,' Harborne growled. 'On the face of it it appeared to have been the work of a homicidal maniac again. Terribly mutilated but that foul slime had disappeared completely. Never seems to last more than a few hours. We've got a top boffin down from London, but he can't fathom it out either. Any ideas?'

  'Search me!' Lowson gave a hollow laugh. 'Everybody else seems to think it's come from outer space. Might as well go along with that idea. It's as good as any.'

  'It's crazy. There's got to be a logical down-to-earth explanation. No doubt we']! find one when we nail this monster once and for all. Sightseers are flocking in from everywhere. Word soon gets around, and that fellow Southgate's making a bomb out of it. He sold more beer this morning than he's sold all year. He's fully booked up too. There's caravans and campers all over the place.'

  Lowson fumed inwardly. Bloody interfering busybodies. Just when he wanted to be left alone. One more night, that was all he asked. A chance to drop the net over the Slime Beast. After that it wouldn't matter any more.

  'Which brings me to another point,' Harborne went on.

  'I'm not too happy about you lot camping out here. Especially the girl Mr Royle informed me yesterday that you've had a couple of close scrapes already. It isn't worth the risk. Move out for a couple of days. Professor. Just give us a chance to clear this whole business up and then you can come back in peace.'

  'Certainly not!' Lowson's eyes blazed and his beard bristled. 'I am here for a specific purpose. This expedition is in the interests of the public. I have a job to do and I intend to do it no matter what. I don't give a damn for space monsters or whatever you call them!'

  'You're a bloody fool,' Harborne snarled, 'like all these other idiots who've moved in today. You're just asking to get yourself killed I could get an order to move you but why the hell should I? I've got enough to do as it is without worrying about you lot.'

  With that he stormed off back across the saltings followed by the silent Detective-Inspector Borg. Lowson stood in the doorway and watched until they were mere dots along the sea-wall.

  He knocked the ash out of his pipe and went back indoors. Damn them. Damn them .all! He would still capture the Slime Beast, no matter what

  It was just after three o'clock when Gavin and Liz returned. Their growing tenseness had been eased by temporary jubilation at the successful purchase of a flame-gun.

  'Even if it did take us six shops to find one, we got it in the end,' Liz joked as they approached the blockhouse,

  Gavin was carrying their latest weapon in the war against the Slime Beast wrapped up in brown paper.

  'Better not let your uncle see this,' he murmured, 'the old devil's up to something himself, I'm sure. He didn't spend all night out on the salt-marshes for nothing.

  They went inside. The place was empty. Even the tobacco smoke filling the Professor's compartment was stale.

  'He's gone off somewhere,' Liz muttered, 'been gone an hour or two by the staleness of this pipe smoke.'

  'Well in that case,' said Gavin, wrapping their parcel inside a bundle of blankets, 'I'm going to take a quick dekko inside his quarters.'

  'It seems a bit sly.'

  'To hell with that! No doubts he's been poking through our stuff while we've been out. In fact I'm sure of it. Come on!'

  Professor Lowson's concrete cubicle was a mass of papers and books. Sheets and sheets of foolscap were covered with his sprawling handwriting, but G
avin gave them scarcely a glance. He would not be able to decipher them anyway. In fact he did not know what he was looking for until he found it, and even then it was some seconds before he recognised the object.

  'Why, it's a big square of fishing-net!' he exclaimed after he had unravelled the bundle which they had found beneath a couple of packing-cases. 'Now just look at these. Tied on all four corners. Grappling hooks. What the devil's he up to?'

  'He's going to try and catch the Slime Beast alive with it!'

  'Christ Almighty!' Realisation dawned on Gavin. 'So that's why he was out half the night. Crazy, but it might just work.'

  Suddenly a shadow filled the small doorway. They whirled round in alarm.

  'Hah!' There was triumph and sarcasm in Professor Lowson's voice. 'So you have decided to rifle my belongings eh?'

  Gavin decided that the best form of defence was attack.

  'Now let's get this straight Professor,' he snapped as Liz began to blush with guilt 'As members of your expedition, supposedly to locate King John's treasure, we've a right to know what's going on. You seem to have forgotten all about our original reason for coming here. You're obsessed with this Slime Beast Hoping to catch it alive with your net, eh? Like a minnow in a rock pool. You must be stark raving mad. This place is crawling with monster-hunters. The army has moved into Sutton, and set up defences in the middle of the village street, all loaded up with armour-piercing shells, grenades and the lot. What chance do you think you stand with a bloody fishing net?'

  That,' replied Lowson thrusting his face close to Gavin's, 'is my affair. You wouldn't co-operate with me in the beginning so from now onwards we'll work separately. The police were here earlier, suggesting we packed up and got out. I told 'em what they could do. It might not be a bad idea if the pair of you opted out though. The law doesn't want you, and I certainly don't If you want to stay then keep out of my way! '

  'We will, don't worry,' Gavin snarled, motioning Liz to follow him. 'If that's how you want it Prof, from now on it's every man for himself. And we're staying!'