Death Dimension

by Denis Hughes

  It considered carefully—or appeared to—before answering. Then: “If human decency is exemplified by the traits of Brooking I would rather be without it. To build me and bring me to life, that man took the lives of two people. Life does not matter to me, but now that I have it I shall keep it for various reasons, revenge being chief among them. To me, all mankind is an enemy, and I am powerful enough to do considerable damage.”

  Tern listened, alert for some point of weakness. There was none. He said: “How did you know my name?”

  The creature made a grimace that might well have been a grin of sardonic amusement. “I had an idea that would puzzle you,” it replied. “You will discover in time that there is little I do not know—if I choose to concentrate hard enough on anything for a short while. That is my strength, and therein lies my ability to wage a war on the human race.”

  “You’re mad!” gasped Tern.

  “By what standards? Human degrees of madness are of no consequence in my case. Suppose I was captured and tried by your courts? I don’t happen to be a human being in the accepted sense of the word. That would fox them, would it not?” The Thing broke off and chuckled quietly.

  “You’ll never be brought to justice that way,” said Tern. “You’ll be hunted like a wild animal—with rifles!”

  “In which case it is even more fortunate for me that you discovered this hide-out. You and the girl will be useful, Tern. Especially the girl…”

  Tern licked his lips, his eyes darting this way and that. There was no escape from here; he knew that and his heart sank. “Why do you say that?” he demanded.

  “Because a hunted creature needs company and someone else to act as a link with the rest of the world. You two will serve that purpose admirably.” The slit mouth twisted in a semblance of a smile as Tern glanced anxiously at Vivienne. “No,” it went on, “you needn’t be afraid for her sake. If it suits me I shall kill you both; you won’t have to worry on other counts. Remember that I’m not wholly human.”

  Vivienne stirred beside him, returning to her senses. He was glad she had not been listening to most of the conversation. Her eyes were wide with horror as she saw the monster again. Tern slid an arm round her shoulders. “It means us no harm,” he whispered. “We’re…hostages of a kind, I fancy.”

  “You put the position clearly, Tern,” he was told. “And now shall we discuss the immediate future?”

  Tern shrugged, trying not to appear disturbed. “What did you have in mind?”

  “The question of moving from here to a more mobile place of concealment. Concrete walls, I find, have a cramping effect on me.” It paused and stared round the cellar.

  “You’ll find a grave more cramping still!” snapped Tern. Without the slightest warning he lunged forward, past Vivienne to grapple with the man-made being.

  He might as well have hurled himself at a brick wall. The first thing he knew was an odd effect that his feet had left the ground and he was floating backwards at tremendous speed. Then he landed with a crash on the ground, all the breath knocked from his body. And the monster was standing over him, grinning wickedly, the gun in its hand covering Vivienne.

  “It is fortunate that I need you alive,” it said flatly. “Otherwise I should have hit you harder. Now get up, and for her sake don’t try that kind of thing again. You’ve had your warning, Tern; take it to heart!”

  Tern crawled to his feet. His chest felt as if most of the bones were cracked, and he was staggered by the speed of the blow he had run against. It had been so swift that quite literally he never saw it coming. This creature, he decided ruefully, was a potent enemy—even without a gun.

  Vivienne, after a single yelp of dismay, had run to his aid, kneeling beside him before he rose. For some reason or other he felt a surge of pleasure at her nearness, and that in spite of the desperate situation they were in.

  The Blue Peril stepped back beyond the prostrate form of Brooking. The scientist was still unconscious, proof of the monster’s strength. “You are ready to behave like a rational being?” it demanded of Tern.

  Tern dusted his clothes and glared back belligerently.

  “That will depend on what you mean!” he growled. “Personally I think you’ll end up dead before long, but that’ll be your affair. What do you want of us?”

  The being eyed him coldly for a moment. “There will be times when I shall find it advisable to remain in hiding,” it replied. “On such occasions some link with outside events and personalities will be useful. That is where you come into the picture, Tern. And that, if I may say so, is where Vivienne Conrad will prove her worth as well. She will be my safeguard at times when you are away from us.”

  The idea slowly dawned on Tern that they were to be kept as prisoners by the Thing, yet prisoners with a certain amount of freedom, the safety of one depending on the good behaviour of the other. There was more than human cunning in the scheme; it was devilish, he thought. But just at the moment the Blue Peril definitely had the upper hand.

  “You’re clever,” he said aloud. “Don’t be over confident though. We have a human adage about there being many a slip. You wouldn’t know about that; or would you?”

  “I know about it, Tern, don’t worry yourself. And now for action! We are leaving here, and the life of this girl rests entirely in your own hands. Try to trick me, or call attention to what is going on, and she will die at once. If you remember that, everything will be all right; forget it and I need not impress on you the consequences. Are you ready?”

  Tern looked round the room. “Which way?” he asked. “If you go back the way we came you’re certain to run into the police. That wouldn’t do you much good—us either.”

  The being chuckled. Tern thought its chuckle was the most horrible sound he had ever heard in his life; he grew to dread it and hate it with the passing seconds.

  “You know very little of Brooking’s past activities,” the monster said slowly. “There is another escape route from here. Why do you think he built this cellar if it was only a dead end? How do you think he disposed of the bodies if there was nowhere to take them once he was down here? You are a bigger fool than I bargained for. However, there is no doubt there will be times when you may come in useful.”

  Vivienne clung to Tern’s arm nervously. She averted her eyes from the monster whenever it looked in her direction, but it made no move to approach her more closely. Then it gestured to the wall behind Tern. “Brooking has always been something of a craftsman when it comes to manufacturing gadgets, you know. If you examine the concrete very closely you will observe a hair crack in the structure. It forms a second exit, and by devious means brings one to… But you shall see in a few minutes, for that is the route we shall take.”

  Vivienne cringed away as the being advanced towards them. Tern stood aside, curious now, some of his instinctive fear leaving him. How this creature knew so much was something he had not discovered, something he would like to know. But for now it must wait; there were more vital issues at stake.

  The Blue Peril, always managing to keep one eye on Tern and Vivienne, pressed a concealed button in the wall. In a moment the section surrounded by that unnoticed hair crack quivered and opened inwards, revealing a dark passageway wide enough for two persons to walk abreast.

  “You will walk ahead,” said the being. “And remember that I have this weapon and know how to use it. It will be the girl who suffers first.”

  “You don’t have to rub it in!” snapped Tern. He took Vivienne’s arm and started into the gloomy tunnel. After a few yards—just when he was considering if the darkness would cover a dash—a whole string of electric bulbs came to life in the shallow arch of the roof. The monster did not seem to miss much, he thought wryly. In fact there was little it failed to discover or utilise. He wondered uneasily if it was capable of reading their thoughts.

  The passageway went on and on for what seemed like miles. Here and there it turned abruptly. Every turn was a right angle, but he noticed that most
of them cancelled out so that progress was always away from the beginning of the tunnel.

  The creature at their backs made little or no noise, but whenever Tern glanced over his shoulder it was never very far in the rear. At the end of each straight length of tunnel it switched off the preceding lights, switched on the next section of illumination. And there was no chance of their being followed. Tern realised, because the creature had shut the irregularly shaped door to this underground warren.

  “You have not much farther to walk,” came its voice from behind them. “Another hundred yards or so…”

  “Where the devil does this come out?” demanded Tern in an irritable tone.

  “You will see soon. For the moment contain your impatience and just keep moving.”

  Tern pressed Vivienne’s arm reassuringly, trying to tell her that their chance would come before long, that a moment would arrive when a desperate bid would be rewarded by freedom. She seemed to understand, shooting him a grateful glance in which the hint of a wan smile showed up at the back of her eyes.

  Then the tunnel ended and they stopped of their own accord.

  To their ears came the sullen splash of water; the thick smell of London River, tidal mud, smoke and fog all mixed, touched their nostrils. Through cracks in a rough wooden door they glimpsed light as the Blue Peril switched off the last of the electric circuits.

  “Open the door, Tern!” it ordered curtly. “No tricks either!”

  Tern felt over the planking for a handle, found it and gave it a twist. There was a creaking sound and the door swung outwards, spilling in the grey light from beyond. Tern peered out and found himself looking into what appeared to be a small warehouse, bare and empty and fronting on the river. But when he studied it more closely he saw that an arm of water ran right inside from the river itself, and in the arm of black water lay a blue and cream motor cruiser, its bows pointing outwards.

  “Move on,” said the monster quietly. “This is where Gregory Conrad came with the first victim’s body; it was near here that he was seen to dispose of it, hence he became a fugitive from justice, though innocent of murder. And it is to this place that Brooking brought Conrad’s body when the vital portion of it had been extracted. This is the place from which Brooking himself could have escaped completely had he not been so big a fool.”

  Tern and Vivienne stepped from the tunnel into the more open space of the building. To all intents and purposes the place was an innocent private boat-house, though rather a large one. Tern stared at the cruiser. That it was Brooking’s he had no doubt, and when a moment later the Blue Peril urged them towards it the idea was confirmed.

  “Brooking kept this for emergencies,” said the monster. “The boat-house is well known to the river police, and Brooking himself owns the premises. He frequently uses the boat, or did until recently. Naturally, no one is aware of the way it was used. Brooking has always been a careful person.”

  Tern glanced at it angrily. “What do you expect us to do now?” he inquired. “Go for a trip on the Thames?”

  “Not just at the moment; that will undoubtedly come later on when I am ready to establish a headquarters somewhere. For now you will go aboard the cruiser.”

  Tern, still gripping Vivienne’s arm, tried to decide if an attack on the creature would be successful. In the end he reached the conclusion that the risk to Vivienne was too great, so shelved the notion. Instead he piloted the girl towards the stern of the vessel and stepped aboard, glancing out through the fog-shrouded front of the building. There was no sign of assistance in that direction. The fog clamped down so thickly that he could see no more than a yard or two of sullenly rippling water beyond the entrance. The only feature of the position that gave him some hope was that according to the Blue Peril the police were familiar with Brooking’s ownership of the place. A time would come when they would search it, connecting the presence of a boat with some possible plan for escape.

  The cruiser was large, a powerful sea and estuary craft. Under the prompting of their captor, the two of them entered the after companionway and stood in the roomy saloon.

  “It is obviously necessary for me to remain concealed,” said the monster. “Quite plainly, too, it is necessary that I should eat. The same goes for you, of course. But there is no food on board this vessel and that is one reason why I am enlisting you.”

  Tern caught his breath, remembering a report that the body of the murdered woman near Vivienne’s home had been torn as if by savage fangs. The monster seemed to tread his thoughts, for it smiled hideously and shook its head.

  “You need not be afraid that I shall eat Vivienne,” it said. “Not unless I am forced to, that is…I have a certain regard for her of all other humans, perhaps because the tissue of which my brain is composed once belonged to her brother, Gregory. However, that is not the point. The immediate need is for you, Tern, to go and get supplies for the three of us.”

  Tern coloured angrily. “I’ll see you in hell before doing that!” he snapped.

  “You mean you’ll condemn Vivienne to death. That is what refusal would amount to. No, you will walk out of here quite naturally and bring back some food. If you fail to return, or, worse still, if you bring anyone back with you, the girl will die. No action on your part could save her, and you have already tasted some of the speed with which I can move when I have to. Are you willing to take the risk? I promise you that nothing will happen to Vivienne while you are away, but heaven help her if you try to double-cross me. Even if I begin to suspect such a thing I shall act at once.”

  Vivienne’s eyes were eloquent of despair and fear, but Tern knew he was faced by a problem defying solution except by doing as he was told. There was nothing else for it.

  “What is it you need?” he demanded reluctantly. “And how can I be sure that you’ll keep your side of the bargain?”

  The monster smiled slightly. “I shall keep it because it suits me to,” it said. “As to what we need, a few supplies to go on with will be sufficient; say enough for a couple of days on our own. My immediate plan is to run down river out of the search area. Just to make life more comfortable, you understand?”

  “I’ll be back in half an hour,” said Tern. He looked at Vivienne. “Honestly,” he added, “we shall have to trust it, my dear. I don’t think you’ll come to any harm, and I won’t be long.”

  The monster wagged its enormous head. “She will be all right,” it said. “Remember that for now she is my hostage, nothing worse than that. If she were to die without need my hold on you would vanish, and I may need you even more at some later date. Are we quite clear on that?”

  Tern grunted, “Very well,” he said. “I’ll be back!”

  “There is a normal outside door to the building over there. Tern. Use it and you will find yourself in a street. Don’t forget to come back.”

  CHAPTER 6

  FOG ON THE RIVER

  Tern, his mind in a whirl of troubled thoughts, wasted no time once he had located the exit door and reached the street. It was little more than a mean alleyway between warehouses on one side and the boat-house on the other, but presently it opened into a busier thoroughfare in which the gloom of the fog was shot by pale yellow blobs of light from street lamps. It was hard to believe, he reflected, that the time was now almost eleven o’clock on an autumn morning.

  From the unseen river came the eerie, rather mournful hoot of a ship’s siren as the vessel felt its way downstream. In the distance, too, car horns were strident, muffled by the fog. Some heavily laden vehicle rumbled past on the street only a few yards away from him, its side-lamps liverish eyes in the dense grey moisture.

  He took careful note of where he was, waiting till he could be sure of finding his way back. There was no hope in his mind of turning the tables on the monster at this stage, and his one intention was to get the necessary stores and then hurry back to Vivienne.

  A dark figure loomed up in front of him, grunting as it almost collided with him. Tern sidestepped and
continued. Presently a patch of glowing illumination heralded a shop. He heaved a sigh of relief as he recognised a food store and went in, closing the door behind him. The place was small and none too clean, but provided the simple things he must take.

  He was halfway back to the alleyway entrance when a sound he dreaded came to his ears. From somewhere in his rear came the shrill blast of a police whistle, followed almost immediately by the thud of running footsteps, vague shouts and the grinding of hurriedly meshed gears as a truck started up.

  The last thing Tern wanted was to be embroiled in a police hunt of any kind, whether it had anything to do with the monster or not. Fear gripped his heart when he thought of what the creature might do to Vivienne at the sound of a police whistle. He began to run, dodging down the narrow pavement, hugging his bag of supplies to his chest as he ran. The strain made his leg ache damnably. Then someone crashed into him from the opposite direction. He cursed and jumped clear, but the whistles were being reinforced in the background and the man who had collided with him suddenly took it into his head that this was the fugitive.

  With commendable speed and disregard for danger, the man, who seemed very large to Tern, grabbed him tightly and started to yell at the top of his voice. The thudding footsteps came closer. Several other people were closing in, also mistakenly believing that the wanted man had been caught.

  Tern was desperate. He dropped his bag of provisions and lashed out like a madman, scoring a perfect hit on the man’s exposed jaw. The man grunted, stopped yelling, and suddenly let go his grasp on Tern.

  Tern was running again, running blindly through the fog, his main object being to escape from further embarrassment.

  Instead he ran straight into the arms of a singularly energetic figure who was poised for a rugger tackle only a few yards distant. The two became locked in each other’s arms, twisting this way and that, panting for breath. But suddenly the other man stopped, thrusting his face close to Tern’s.