by R. A. Jones
CHAPTER XXXV
With a straining heave, the Clock tossed the last body into the flames.
He stood catching his breath, staring into the gaping maw of the massive furnace that was one source of power for the Fantom’s serpentine lair.
The Clock had decided there was neither time nor necessity to dispose of the six dead assassins in any more traditional manner. He had not consulted with the Eye regarding this course of action, for when the sorcerer had regained his composure he had grabbed the Librarian by the sleeve and dragged him into the chamber now serving as their makeshift archive.
He had slammed the door shut behind them, leaving the Clock to deal with the aftermath of their pitched battle.
And he had dealt with it in the most expeditious fashion that had presented itself to him.
Feeling that consumption by fire was a fitting end for such servants of evil, unfazed either by the smell of burning rubber or burning flesh, he slammed the metal grate of the furnace closed and took his leave.
The horrors of the Great War had inured him to the worst sights and sounds imaginable. At times, he worried that the toughness of mind he had been forced to develop to retain his sanity in the face of mass slaughter had left him stripped of vital pieces of his humanity. But then he re-envisioned the No-Man’s Lands of France, the bodies by the thousands swelling in the merciless sun, the screams of the wounded, the overwhelming smell of blood and human waste – and he was glad he now had steel in his spine.
If what the Eye foresaw in the near future came to pass … he would need it.
When he returned to the sanctum’s central chamber, he found Aman and the others waiting for him. All of them, he thought, even before they briefed him on their failed mission, looked somewhat the worse for wear.
He couldn’t help but wonder if he and the Eye had placed too great a burden too soon upon their young shoulders. But such doubts were only to be pondered, not given voice.
Instead, he instructed them to follow him, taking them to the chamber where the Eye was sequestered.
He pushed open the door without knocking, stopping with mouth open at the sight that greeted him. The Eye gave no sign he was even aware of the intrusion, his eyes and fingers never leaving the mystic book he was scanning.
But the Librarian jumped with surprise, rattling like a tinker’s wagon as he did. Around his neck lay a multitude of chains, at the end of which dangled a crucifix, a Star of David, a crescent of Islam, an Ankh, various other magical and sacred icons and what appeared to the Clock to be a chain of small onions.
“Do I smell garlic?” Ferret said.
Not onions. Garlic.
Clutched tightly in the Librarian’s left hand was a small crucible of holy water. And perched awkwardly atop his head was a Great War vintage Doughboy’s helmet.
“Will any of that stop a bullet?” the Clock asked.
In response, the Librarian loosened a few buttons on his shirt, pulling the fabric far enough apart to reveal an undershirt seemingly made from some sort of chain mail.
The Clock sighed softly, shook his head and turned his attention to the Eye, who was now slowly closing the massive book he had been perusing.
“Any news, Aaron?”
“Not enough,” the Eye replied, “but some.” He swung around on his stool to fully face the others.
“I still haven’t been able to learn what the five artifacts are to be used for, or how. Only one thing is certain. When they are all brought together, by whomever does know how to use them – utter chaos will be unleashed.”
“And whoever that someone is,” Aman said, “he only needs one more gem.”
“Precisely,” the Eye confirmed. “That’s the one bit of good news. My clinking, clattering collaborator and I have learned the approximate location of the final jewel.” He stood and stretched, moaning as aged muscles cried out in protest.
“As soon as your plane is refueled, you can be on your way,” he told them. “That is, if you’re still up for it.”
“Of course we are,” Aman said.
“Just try and stop us,” Man of War echoed, smiling.
“Hold on,” Ferret said darkly, drawing everyone’s attention. “There’s one little thing I need to know before I agree to go anywhere.”
He raised one hand and pointed at Iron Skull who was, as was his wont, silently standing alone off to one side.
“I want to know what the hell that thing is.”
“He’s a member of this team, Mr. Denton,” the Clock replied coolly. “Just like any other.”
“Like hell he is,” Ferret snapped.
“Yes. Like hell he is.”
“Tell it ta Sweeney. Your little mechanical man sprung a leak back at the pueblos. But it wasn’t oil or hydraulic fluid he left behind.” The others leaned in closer, now clearly intrigued.
“It was blood,” Ferret declared. “Human blood!”
“You’ve been hurt?” the Clock exclaimed, obvious concern in his voice. Ignoring Ferret and his pronouncement, he quickly moved to Iron Skull’s side.
“It’s nothing serious,” Skull assured him.
“Let me be the judge of that,” the Clock said. “Come with me.”
Taking hold of Iron Skull’s right arm, the Clock turned him and led him out of the chamber, momentarily leaving stunned silence behind them.
“You want to explain that?” Ferret demanded, stepping closer to the Eye.
“Explain what?”
“That … whatever it is. We all thought it was a robot!”
“Then you were wrong,” the Eye responded calmly, making to turn back to his books.
“Oh, no,” Ferret said, imposing himself between the mage and his waiting tomes. “We need more than that. We deserve more than that.”
“And just what is it you think you deserve?” the Eye asked, a hitherto unheard edge creeping into his voice.
Ferret was not fazed.
“I’ve been told how everybody else came to be here, but nuthin’ about him. We’re puttin’ our lives on the line out there, grandpa. And I for one wanna know who and what I’m fightin’ next to.”
“Is it really so important?” the Witch said, trying to hide her unease at this talk of secrets unrevealed.
“We probably all have things in our lives best kept hidden.” She looked with almost pleading eyes at the Ferret.
“Don’t you, Cal?”
“Sweetheart, my life’s an open book,” he said. But his eyes softened and he smiled at her.
“I’m just askin’ about one chapter of his.”
“He saved her life out there,” Aman reminded his teammate. “Isn’t that enough?”
“What do the rest of you say?” Ferret asked.
“I’ve witnessed more strange things, been a part of more strange things these past few months than in the rest of my life,” Man of War declared. “I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.”
“Let it go, friend Ferret,” the Fantom said softly. “Just … let it go.”
Ferret’s eyes slowly swept the faces of the others, then turned back to face the Eye.
“I’m lettin’ it go, Eye,” he said with resignation. “For now.”
“Good,” the Eye replied, the icy hardness in his eyes and voice moderating.
“And now that you’re not demanding knowledge,” he continued, “I think I will tell you something about the man who no doubt is, even as we speak, subjecting himself to fresh pain so that he can continue to aid all of us in our cause.”
The Eye then proceeded to tell them of the fiery near-death that had claimed Rex Wiley in Australia months earlier. All of them were stunned to hear of this; even the Witch had memories of seeing his once handsome face lighting up the movie screen in Budapest, in a happier time. Like the rest of the world, she and the others had thought Wiley had been consumed by the wildfire.
When the Clock had seen the savagely seared actor crawl out of the river, he too assumed death was inevitable. But he also felt su
ch courage and honor deserved a chance to fight for life.
Using all the considerable resources at his disposal, he had succeeded in keeping Wiley alive, though it was painfully clear that the man would never fully recover or be able to lead anything approaching a normal life.
Not inclined by nature or temperament either to give up and die or to merely exist as a near-helpless invalid, Wiley had unflinchingly agreed to allow the Clock to perform a bold and untried experiment upon him.
The greatest team of scientists ever assembled, including fellow Ring member Albert Einstein, had used synthetic materials to repair and replace both bone and muscle tissue.
“Certain … enhancements were added in the process,” the Eye said, “as you have seen. So he does in some ways resemble a robot. But he’s just as human as you or I. Maybe more so.” Even this sage who had lived for the span of a dozen normal lifetimes had to grimace as he envisioned what had come next.
“The final stage was the most delicate and agonizing of all,” he told them, “as every inch of scorched flesh was peeled from his body and replaced by layers of durable yet highly flexible metal sheets.
“Through it all, Wiley never complained, never asked for relief, never indulged in self-pity. What survived, what came out of the forge of adversity, is what you see today.”
“That poor man,” the Witch murmured softly, tears welling in her eyes.
“Don’t cry for me, Natalia,” Iron Skull said, having re-entered the room just as the Eye was finishing his narrative.
“At least in this form I can still do something that has some meaning.”
“But … doesn’t it hurt?” she asked.
“Some,” he replied, with what they all suspected was gross understatement. “But when you’ve nearly been burned alive … any pain less than that is almost pleasure.”
Turning partly away from him, the Witch caught Ferret’s eye. She fixed him with a stern look and jerked her head in Skull’s direction.
Scowling, feet shuffling like those of a contrite schoolboy, Ferret approached Skull, his right hand extended.
“I’m sorry, pally,” he grunted. “I didn’t know. Slip me five.”
Skull, once he figured out what it was the Ferret was offering, gladly accepted his hand in friendship.
“No offense, bud,” Ferret said, “but even when you smile you look creepy.”
“Cal!” the Witch scolded.
“It’s all right,” Skull assured her. And with him, it was. A barrier had been breached, and he felt certain he would now be fully accepted as part of the team.
“Can we get going now?” Aman asked, dispelling any lingering awkwardness.
“Just one more minute.”
Surprisingly, this time it was Man of War who brought them to a halt.
“What more do you want?” Iron Skull asked.
“Nothing from you, Rex.” Man of War assured him. Skull was surprised at how good was the sound of his own name.
“It’s you two,” the masked swashbuckler said, looking at the Eye and the Clock.
“Something Ferret said brought up a question. One of the few things we all have in common is the fact that in the last year we’ve each been faced with a moment of peril or crisis.” He paused to let each think on what he was saying.
“And at each of those moments … either one of you or your agents were there, too. That’s stretching coincidence a bit far, don’t you think?”
“Indeed I do,” the Clock replied. “But it wasn’t coincidence at all.” He turned to the Eye, smiling tightly.
“Maybe you should explain.”
“Gladly.” He paused, collecting his thoughts before continuing.
“The Clock and I first became aware of the threat we face several years ago. Its source was even more shrouded in mystery then, but we used every means imaginable to learn more. What we discovered only came to us in bits and pieces, parts of a jigsaw puzzle the size of the world.
“Perhaps the most important thing we came across was the prophecy we came to believe would be fulfilled when Aman came fully into his own.”
Aman humbly hung his head to avoid the looks being directed at him.
“Other knowledge slowly came our way,” the Eye resumed. “Some came too late; we were unable to retain possession of the gems, or to save two of our dearest friends.
“But we weren’t too late to save you. The ancient texts foretold not just the coming of John, but of you all.
“Each of you was destined to become what now stands before me. Each of you is destined to serve some greater calling, some greater good.”
He smiled paternally as he looked over their earnest faces.
“I believe you’re destined to save the world.”
“Is that all?” Ferret quipped, and even the Eye had to chuckle at the dark humor.
“I think that will be enough,” he said.
“Now can we go?” Aman said.
“Just a moment, John,” the Eye said. “Could I speak with you alone before you leave? It won’t take long.”
“All right.” Aman turned to the others. “I’ll meet you at the plane.” He then followed the Eye into yet another chamber of the vast sanctum.
“I wonder what that’s all about?” Man of War said.
“Whatever it is,” Ferret said, “it had better end in a nap for the Eye. He’s startin’ ta look like death warmed over.”
“Imagine how you’ll look 900 years from now,” the Fantom said wryly.
When Aman and the Eye made their way to the hangar where Zona Henderson was already revving up the engines of their aeroplane, all but the Ferret had already boarded.
As the Eye shook his young protégé’s hand, Ferret thought the old mage was looking even more feeble. As Aman then approached the plane, there seemed to be something vaguely different about him as well. But it was nothing Ferret could firmly identify.
“Is there anything the rest of us need to know, big guy?” Ferret asked. He noted that Aman hesitated for just a fraction of a second, then shook his head.
“Not really,” he said, sounding slightly puzzled. “He just gave me a thirty-second pep talk about the importance of our mission – as if I didn’t already know that – then a pat on the back and that was about it.”
Aman shrugged and hurried up to boarding ladder leading into the aeroplane. Ferret watched him with concern etched on his features.
“A thirty-second pep talk,” he repeated softly.
Then why had Aman and the Eye been gone for ten minutes?
CHAPTER XXXVI
August 26, 1939
The scream of a panther cut through the fog, trailing off into a rough, coughing snarl.
“Why couldn’t one of those gems have been hidden on the French Riviera?” Ferret groused.
“Just be thankful there aren’t as many alligators here as there used to be,” said Aman.
Upon first arriving in Louisiana, the heroes had initially set out in a large truck provided by the deep pockets of the Ring. The ride had been treacherous, taking them over the so-called “trembling prairies”, which were little more than thick mats of vegetation growing atop water or even quicksand.
They had left their vehicle an hour ago and were now walking through the waist-deep waters of a shallow tributary of Teche Bayou, south and east of New Iberia.
The smell of mold and decay was only partially offset by the fragrances of hyacinths and camellias growing nearby. The buzzing of insects was incessant.
Aman was in the lead, but close behind him came Iron Skull. He held his right arm up and outward, the palm of his hand emitting a beam of green light that could penetrate the dark and gloom by only a few feet.
“You may be right about the alligators,” Ferret said, “but there’s still plenty o’ rattlesnakes and water moccasins in these swamplands.
“I spent most of my youth in west Texas, but I made more than a few forays into Louisiana; enough to know how dangerous the bayous can be.”
>
“He’s right,” the Fantom concurred. “There are things here no man should ever see.”
“Hold it!” Skull called out.
“What is it?” Aman asked.
“I’m not sure. Something out at the edge of my light. Something under the water.”
“Look,” Fantom directed.
Each glanced down to see small ripples of bubbling black water lapping against their bodies.
From their very midst, water spewed upward as though a depth charge had been detonated below the surface. Most of them, including Iron Skull, were lifted from their feet and sent flying in multiple directions, like pins in a bowling alley.
Only Aman was able to maintain his footing, and he now stared upward in amazement at the glistening figure rising skyward from the middle of a column of spraying water.
It appeared to be an enormous serpent. Its body was thicker in circumference than a man’s leg. Its head was as large as a bull’s. It hissed and exposed two rows of teeth that looked like bayonets dripping saliva. Leathery flaps spread out in a collar from behind the base of its skull. Its cold reptilian eyes bore into the man’s senses.
With blazing speed it lunged forward. Aman threw himself to one side, feeling and hearing the sharp snap as the serpent’s jaws closed down on the empty space where seconds ago had been Aman’s head.
Slowed by the mud sucking at his ankles, Aman was an easy target as the serpent wound its slimy coils around him. The next instant, they constricted so tightly around him that his left arm was pinned to his side.
The great snake again shot up into the air, carrying Aman with it. He had but a second to look down at the comrades as they struggled to regain their footing before the monster dipped its head and dived back down beneath the roiling waters.
Dank waves spewed in all directions. The surface bubbled and thrashed about wildly. But by the time the fallen heroes had all managed to reach the spot, only small ripples could be seen. They stood in a circle, expecting a renewed attack that was not forthcoming.
“Skull!” Man of War called out at last. “Go under. Find where that thing took him!”
Without hesitation, the mechanized man plunged below the water line. Those who remained behind could at first faintly see the light he was emitting as he searched. Finally, it disappeared.
