by Jerry
“Thank you, Miss Allanna,” he grinned. “There’s nothing more disgusting than rotten scientific reports. I strive to get mine correct. That is why I am here tonight—to get your uncle’s startling discoveries first hand.”
They were interrupted by Dr. Pontius. “No need to introduce you two,” he chuckled quietly. “You’ll get along. Now let’s get busy. Allie, you know what to do. Mr. Douglass will help me with the tubes.”
SUDDENLY Dr. Pontius snapped an electric switch. Instantly the laboratory became a place of brilliant light. The young Mr. Douglass gave a start. His pulse beat a tattoo at his temples. Quickly he glanced around the room. The gloom had vanished and he found that the place was not so dismal as it had been under the glow of the single frosted desk lamp. Yet the peculiar revulsion for it all still clung to him. The four human skeletons stood out now in high relief against the wall. Their sightless sockets seemed concentrated upon him. He winced at a discovery.
The skeletons were not wired at all as he had suspected! They were indeed fresh, green bones partly dissolved in the devastating green jelly! With a sinking feeling he withdrew his popping eyes from them and glanced at Allie. She was making ready two operating tables in the center of the room. Her back was turned to him so that she did not observe the panicky look in his eyes and the pallor in his cheeks.
He was glad of it for he did not want her to think him a coward. He could have faced death easily knowing what confronted him. But here in this place of unknown things, unnatural life and inhuman sorcery, he was all but completely unnerved. Nor could he have been blamed for it. Only long association with such dreadful things could make a man or woman indifferent to them. Neither Allie or her uncle minded the strange combination of life and death in the least.
The place now seemed like a sepulchre. The silence was oppressing. The very atmosphere was filled with a high tension, as if a bomb lay in the middle of the place with a burning fuse nearing the deadly charge of explosives. Douglass sensed danger of an unknown degree and turned to the tubes to see the synthetic creatures appraising him greedily.
Dr. Pontius motioned to him from where he stood, just beside the first tube. Inside of it the creature leered, his lips curled into the snarl of a savage jungle beast. The reporter looked hard at him and found that he was no longer transparent. He glanced at the other man. Gone also was his transparency and he appraised the scientist questioningly. As though he sensed what lay in the reporter’s mind, Dr. Pontius voluntarily enlightened him.
“They were made transparent by this N-Ray projector,” he pointed to the globe above them. “I arranged that so I could see what was taking place within their anatomies at all times. But you will find that they have a healthy look now.”
The newspaperman looked at them again. Indeed they did appear healthy. Their skin seemed like green silk and as smooth as silk. But it still seemed ghastly and unearthly. Something about it created a sense of horror in the reporter. His soul rebelled against them and he wondered if Miss Allanna or her uncle had any such feelings.
Before he had time to inquire about it, Dr. Pontius announced himself ready to remove his subjects. The reporter’s blood pounded. His lips tightened across his teeth again and his hands went into balls of muscle and bone voluntarily. He watched the scientist as he began removing the sustaining bands from about the tube. Douglass felt his flesh creep. He stiffened strangely when Allie came up and stood beside him, their elbows brushing. She spoke to him in a very low whisper.
“Aren’t you thrilled, Mr. Douglass?” she asked, bubbling over with excitement. “I think it’s wonderful!”
“Yes, er—I am, Miss Allanna,” he replied shakily. “I’m so thrilled that my spine shivers!”
She gave an almost silent laugh and he felt her deep-blue eyes upon him. Fearful lest she discover his weakness, he did not look at her, but watched instead, the creature within the tube that Dr. Pontius was working on. The leering subject was gazing at his creator now, the tips of his fingers working convulsively as though eager to get at the throat of the scientist.
“Aren’t you the least bit afraid, Miss Allanna?” Douglass blurted suddenly. She chuckled.
“Not in the least,” she replied sincerely. “Are you, Mr. Douglass?”
Delicate Work
HE ventured a glance at her. She was watching her uncle. Her face was aglow with expectantcy. Not a single quiver of revulsion ran through her and the reporter marvelled at her remarkable equamnity in the face of such horrors. She was as calloused to them as her distinguished uncle.
“Now,” said Pontius crisply. “One more thing to do, and then we’ll be ready to remove them.”
He wheeled over to the tube a large stand, the lower part of which held a box on which were a row of black buttons. A long thick rod projected upward to a queer-looking metal globe. Pontius adjusted the stand in front of his creation, and sighting along it for a moment, pressed one of the black buttons. Instantly a sharp dazzling beam of light, emanating from the globe, bathed the synthetic man in its glow. For a moment, as Douglass gazed in awe, the creature remained motionless then his arms began to move slowly up and down through the confining liquid, and his features took on the look of one awakening from a long sleep.
“Now, Douglass,” said Pontius suddenly, “on the other side of the tube, you will find a crank. Turn it slowly in a clockwise direction until the tube is inclined fifteen degrees. Then we’ll open up the tube and release our good friend.”
Hesitantly the reporter went to obey. He grasped the handles as directed and was amazed to feel the tube slowly incline. When the inclination had reached fifteen degrees, he opened up the tube, leaving the synthetic man exposed as though he stood upright in a glass coffin.
Expecting to see the creature fall out of the tube and at him, Douglass quickly set the half-tube aside and partly crouched. The being stared at him strangely but made no effort to get out.
“I don’t believe Joe Agar would hurt a flea,” laughed Allanna, amused at the reporter’s actions.
Douglass calmed easily. “Joe Agar?” he squinted at her, curiously. “Is that what you are going to call the creature?”
“What else could we name him, Mr. Douglass?” Allanna smiled. “Agar is the substance from which they sprung. Hence the name. The other one is Jack. Their names are Joe and Jack Agar.”
“Brothers under the skin?” the reporter grimaced.
“Deeper than that, Mr. Douglass,” the girl replied quickly.
Her attention was suddenly drawn to her uncle who spoke softly at her.
“Are you ready to receive him, Allie?” the scientist asked without pausing in his work. “Strait-jackets for emergency, ether and all that?”
“Yes, doctor,” she responded, dropping all interest in everything but her professional duty as a trained nurse.
“Then take your post,” Dr. Pontius ordered curtly. He turned to the reporter. “Douglass, you stand ready to support the subject in event his weakness causes him to topple when I let the jelly out into the hole at the bottom of the tube.”
“Weak, eh?” Douglass muttered to himself. “I’m damned glad of that. Makes me feel better.”
“What’s that, young man?” Dr. Pontius snapped sharply.
“Nothing, sir,” responded the reporter. “I was just humming a tune.”
“Good!” ejaculated the scientist. “I like to have around me, men who are fearless and callous. You are improving, sir.”
“Thank you, doc,” Douglass said evenly. Then to himself: “If he only knew the truth!”
Douglass was so utterly startled by a sudden groan from the curled lips of Joe Agar that his face turned even more pale. The creature sagged forward a trifle as the jelly slowly filtered through the now opened hole. Instinctively but revulsively, the reporter reached forward to support him. His hands touched the greasy body. It felt as clammy as the skin of a snake and it made him tremble. He felt his flesh creep, but stood rigid, both hands under the armpit of the art
ificial man.
CHAPTER IV
The First Death
JOE Agar swung his steady unblinking gaze upon the newspaper man. Douglass avoided the green eyes by concentrating on the creature’s hairless head and aboriginal brow. He shook almost violently, for the somber, ominous atmosphere with its invisible menace, was striking deeply at his soul. Danger seemed to lurk on every hand and the reporter sensed it even more when the final protecting fluid had slipped from the creature’s body.
Instantly Joe Agar toppled limply into the reporter’s arms. The scientist quickly went to his aid and together they carried the weak synthetic creature to a table. Allanna had spread upon it clean sheets and blankets. She stood at its head, a mask in one hand and an ether container in the other. Evidently they had not expected the creature to emerge in such a weakened condition and they were ready to subdue him if need be. He was placed under the blankets and the girl laid aside her instruments of mercy.
“He is too weak to be harmful,” she said calmly, “and too feeble to stand an anasthetic.”
“That is correct, Allie,” said her uncle. “His respiration is dangerously low. Just cover him well and let him sleep until morning. I think he’ll be alright. Now Mr. Douglass, if you don’t mind, we’ll remove the other one.”
Silently they returned to the tubes leaving Miss Allanna bending over Joe Agar with a stethoscope attached to her ears.
He heard her gasp and glanced over his shoulders. She was looking after her uncle questioningly but said nothing. There came a dismal groan from the table. Dr. Pontius turned suddenly and retraced his steps toward it.
“What was that, Allie?” he asked apprehensively, as though sensing something untoward in the sound that had escaped his subject’s lips.
Miss Allanna looked up at him curiously. “I—I don’t know,” she replied softly. “Unless he is dying.”
Douglass came up beside her and looked into the grotesque face on the sheets. Joe Agar seemed to be breathing his last. His lips were still curled into a foreboding sneer and his lids were wide. A purple rash stood out on his brown and a greenish liquid perspiration fairly surged from his over-large pores.
“Why, he’s dying!” exclaimed the reporter with a feeling akin to genuine joy. Through his mind raced a wild thought. “I hope he does!” he thought. “A thing dies, then we’ll only have one, his brother, to reckon with! No doubt about it, they seemed to have taken a form of life to purposely revenge themselves on man who violated all laws of nature!”
“Silence!” snapped Dr. Pontius with a scowl. He reached up suddenly and took a green bottle from the shelf. As if ordered to do so by mental telepathy, Allanna pulled one of Joe Agar’s arms out into the open. Dr. Pontius emptied the contents of the bottle into a glass tube under the table and calmly began to transfer it to the veins of the dying subject. Douglass shuddered as a silver tube was inserted in the artery of the arm, and turned away, appalled. Something drew him to the other creature. He paused in front of the big tube, to stare meditatively at the leering features of Jack Agar.
He felt an urge to bolt the place, then suddenly he came down to earth. If he ran out on this terrifying experiment, he would never hear the end of it. After all, he was a newspaper man on an important story. He must continue with the ordeal whether he wanted to or not despite the fact that Jack Agar was going to be more difficult to handle than the other.
Jack Agar virtually chewed at his lips in a strange, sinister emotion of savagery. Muscles seemed to bulge under his silky skin. His fingers twitched with the restlessness of a mad man. Douglass realized that there was nothing weak about him. He heard Dr. Pontius emit a dismayed groan and turned. Allanna was working a small pulmotor frantically, but the scientist waved her aside.
“Never mind, Allanna,” he said ominously. “He’s done! Dead!”
THE reporter shrugged as she pulled a sheet over the green white face. Across his lips flashed a smile. Piously he glanced upward and shook his head as though to offer thanks to the invisible Creator of all things, for having interfered with this horrible violation of nature’s laws. He heard Allanna stifle a sob, and wondered if she mourned the death of the synthetic creature. But no, it was not that. She sympathized with her uncle who stood beside the bed dejectedly, like a man who has lost his all. He jerked erect suddenly and came toward the reporter.
“We’re not beaten yet, Douglass!” he muttered. “I rather suspected Joe Agar would pass on, but I have little fear for Jack. He’ll live to prove my father’s discoveries to the world.”
“I hope so, Dr. Pontius,” lied Douglass glibly. Yet he felt genuine sorrow for the old scientist who had spent his life to evolve man, then be forced to watch the results of his genius die at the point of success. “He is indeed filled with vigor and—uncontrolled deviltry.”
“You are right!” Dr. Pontius replied promptly. “He has developed far beyond his brother. That is why I valued his life more. Though he has scarcely less than the brute capacity of the simians and will be hard to control. Still, I have no fear of him, for I will bend him to my will by hypnotic suggestion.”
Douglass somewhat doubted the genuineness of the scientist’s expressed fearlessness. There was something in his tone now that belied a kind of fear for the creature in the tube, but the reporter argued with himself that it might be a tone of sadness at the death of Joe Agar. Yet his uneasiness increased and he stirred restlessly while Dr. Pontius dismantled the tube. He watched with unrestrained forebodings.
Jack Agar possessed the strength of a maniac. This might appear strange considering the fact that the creature had never been permitted to move freely. But Dr. Pontius had used special care to build up his muscular system. Scarcely had the reporter removed the front section of the tube than the synthetic man lashed out with a frenzied left hand to clutch at him.
“Hadn’t you better use a hypodermic needle on him, Dr. Pontius?” he asked, trembling. Then he added in a grim whisper: “I’ll sock him square on the button if I have to!”
“No! No! No!” said Dr. Pontius severely. “The shock may forever weaken his senses. Do not raise a hand against him, young man! I warn you!”
Douglass suddenly sensed the nearness of Allanna. She had crept up unnoticed to watch the work of releasing the bestial subject and had sent Jack Agar’s savage thrust at the reporter. There was an unmistakable expression of alarm on her features, yet she seemed calm and collected. She peered intently into the maniacal face of the struggling creature, her deep-blue eyes boring into him steadily.
As though compelled to do so by some powerful, invisible force, Jack Agar gradually ceased his struggles. The green fire seemed to vanish from his eyes. They became soft and languid as the eyes of a child looking up into his mother’s kindly face appealingly. Still, Douglass thought he detected an evil gleam in the look. His gaze traveled from the creature to Allanna. Across her lips flashed a pleased smile.
“Be a good boy, Jack,” she whispered softly, never moving her eyes from him for an instant. But whether Jack Agar understood what she said, Douglass could not decide. He very much doubted it however and wondered what force she had applied to him to bring him to submission. Had she used hypnotic suggestion or just plain hypnotism on a weaker will? Or was the creature merely fascinated by the charm of the girl and did the evil gleam in his eyes spell ill for her? Whatever it was, she had certainly subdued him, her eyes soothing him like music soothes the savage beast.
Dr. Pontius glanced at her presently. “He’ll be alright now, Allie,” he said smoothly. “You may rest a moment. You must be tired now.”
“Oh, I’m alright, Uncle Mark,” she responded, trembling slightly. “You can go ahead. The table is ready.”
CHAPTER V
Uneasy Hours
THE scientist gave her a warm, affectionate smile and turned again to the tube. Quickly he surveyed the silent, foreboding subject whose eyes followed Allanna as she turned away. Douglass crouched instinctively expecting the creature to leap
from his coffin of glass. But Jack Agar made no such move. He seemed thoroughly fascinated by the girl and watched her steadily through unblinking eyes. The reporter was amazed to see Dr. Pontius lead him easily from his container directly to the table. He followed cautiously, tensely, ready for any sudden outbreak from the synthetic man.
With his subject prone on the table, Dr. Pontius lost no time in strapping him down by the ankles and wrists. Jack Agar made no protest but kept his orbs glued on Allanna. Reaching to the wall quickly, the scientist grasped a cord and lowered a great, green-shaded lamp of the same proportions as the table. Without hesitation he switched on a brilliant light that sprayed the subject with an emerald glare. Jack Agar writhed as though he lay on a bed of coals. His muscles bulged and snapped; then Dr. Pontius flicked his open hand before his face like a hypnotist working on a subject. The synthetic man ceased his struggles and lay still under the flood of light.
The reporter heaved a sigh of relief. He opened his clenched fists and relaxed his numbed fingers. The nails had bitten into the palms, leaving crescent scars. His hands trembled in reaction to the released tension. Suddenly he found himself weak, very weak. Dr. Pontius appraised him, glancing at his watch.
“It is after midnight, Douglass,” he said, showing no reaction to the strain and uncertainly of his work. “Perhaps you had better retire. Allie will show you to a guest room.”
“You sure you won’t need me again tonight, Dr. Pontius?” the reporter inquired dismally.
The scientist nodded. “No, Douglass,” he said simply. “I will not need you. Let me thank you for your help.”
They shook hands. “Then if you don’t mind, I will retire,” replied Douglass, rising. He walked over and stood beside the table for a moment to stare at the synthetic man. Jack lay perfectly still now, as still as his sheet-covered brother near him. His unblinking eyes stared upward at the brilliant, illuminated tubes in the flood-lamp.