The Slime Beast

by Guy N Smith

  'Follow it!' Lowson snapped. 'Don't let it get out of our sight!'

  That scream...'

  'Whoever it was they're beyond help now. We mustn't lose it. Get going man!'

  The Slime Beast's progress was not difficult to follow. The flattened rushes made the going much easier for them and the wind was blowing in from the sea. They retched as the beast's odour was carried back to them.

  Once clear of the large reed-bed they had to hang back for they would be seen too easily on the flat marsh. However the Slime Beast forged steadily ahead never once looking back.

  They followed it, keeping a distance of five hundred yards or so behind. In the moonlight they caught a glimpse of something which shimmered in the distance.

  'The mud-flats!' Lowson hissed. 'Or rather, the sea. The tide's in. That's where the Slime Beast's heading.'

  It was true. The Slime Beast was making directly for the mud-flats. It was taking a definite course out towards the tide-line.

  'You're right!' Gavin snapped. 'Just look at that. It's walking straight into the sea. That's where its lair is: on the sea-bed!'

  There was nothing more they could do. Slowly, without a word to each other, they turned and retraced their steps back to the blockhouse.

  It was a very frightened Liz Beck who unfastened the door and admitted them.

  'Whatever's the matter?' Gavin caught her by the shoulders and pulled her towards him. 'What's happened? Where's Glover?'

  'Dead!' she sobbed and burying her face against his broad chest she shook with tears.

  Slowly, with many pauses, she told them the full story.

  'It was ... horrible,' she concluded. 'Can't we get away from here? Right now. Please!'

  'Well we're safe enough for tonight," Gavin said pouring the remainder of the brandy into a tumbler and handing it to her. "The Slime Beast's gone back into the sea. It is satisfied for the moment so the odds are it won't venture forth until tomorrow night. So, first thing in the morning I'm going into Spalding to see Chief-Inspector Harborne. I want you to come with me, Liz. We'll tell them the facts just as we know them. The ball's in their court then.'

  The expected outburst from Professor Lowson was not forthcoming. Instead he merely nodded, turned on his heels and went back to his quarters.

  'No protest.' Liz was more composed now and managed a weak smile. 'I expected him to blow his top.'

  'Probably he realises the futility of it.' Gavin slipped an arm round her and kissed her. 'All the same I don't trust him. He's got something up his sleeve. I can't see him just giving up and leaving it all to the authorities.'

  'Nor can I. One point though. If and when we manage to convince them that there's a dangerous beast, possibly from outer space, on the loose, what then? Do we go back to London?'

  'I'll put you on the first train,' he promised.

  She shook her head and a defiant gleam crept into her eyes.

  'I said we," she snapped. 'What about you, Gavin? '

  'I'll probably hang on for a day or two,' he said, trying to appear casual. 'I'd like to see this thing through since we were in at the start of it'

  'Then I'm stopping with you. I don't go from here until you do.'

  He stood up. 'There's no point. Look at it from a reasonable point of view. The army'll take over no doubt. There won't be any danger.'

  'So there'll be no harm in me staying on.'

  Gavin wrung his hands in despair.

  'All right,' he sighed. 'We'll see what Harborne and Borg have to say. We can't make any plans until we've talked to them.'

  Once they had snuggled down in their sleeping-bag their fears seemed to diminish. As they felt each other's naked body the Slime Beast might have been a million miles away, back in his original habitat. Their lips met, tongues probed, and then their hands explored.

  Gavin felt Liz stiffen as his fingers found her small neat breasts and teased the nipples to an even greater degree of hardness than they had attained during the whole of the previous night. Then he eased his hand down and she eased her thighs open. Gently he located the soft warm moistness and she moaned with pleasure.

  Her hands groped for him and closed over his hardness. It gave her an added thrill to pull him closer and closer to her until suddenly they made contact. She sucked her breath in sharply and then, her desires ruling her reasoning, she pressed his manhood tightly against her.

  Gavin eased himself up and rolled between her open legs.

  Her heart was pounding and her breath was coming faster and faster. 'Give it to me properly, Gavin, like every woman wants her man!'

  Slowly he slid into her and it was only when he had penetrated her fully that he spoke.

  'Liz!' he murmured. 'Oh Liz! Believe me, I want to give it you properly but... damn it! You could end up pregnant as it is. 'I'll try and do the same as I did last night. I...'

  'No, please no,' she swung her legs round and closed them over his body in a vice-like scissors grip. 'I won't let you draw out. I want all of you ... everything ... inside me... even if I do have a baby!'

  He lowered himself down on to her and their lips brushed.

  'Liz,' he breathed, 'Liz ... I'm in love with you. I know we've only known each other a few days but... but I'm not doing this just for a thrill. I want to be part of you. I don't ever want to be away from you. I'd ... I'd love you to have my baby. That is, if you really wanted to .. .'

  'Of course I want to.' She tried to press him further still inside her. 'I love you too, Gavin!'

  She dared not voice her innermost thoughts. It was only then that she realised exactly what she was trying to do. In some ways it frightened her, disgusted her. Wenches who thought there was a good catch in the offing did things like this. She knew full well that she was trying to trap him! She was using a ploy as old as the hills. Eve might even have used the same tactics to secure Adam. Liz despised herself for it. Once she was pregnant Gavin would not leave her. He wasn't the type.

  For a long time they were in a world of their own. The Wash, the Slime Beast, Professor Lowson, all were forgotten. Just a gentle rhythmic movement of two bodies, each caring for and trying to please the other. Every so often they relaxed, trying to prolong the greatest joy known to mankind for as long as possible. Liz released her captive grip on her man. It was not necessary. Nothing on this earth would have stopped him now.

  Suddenly, neither of them could contain themselves any longer. Rising tensions burst open and then they were both jerking and writhing in unison. Liz felt as though she was being hurled and then suspended in mid-air, before falling into a bottomless chasm. On the downward journey she sensed a beautiful warmth spurting into her with force, engendering a feeling which she had never experienced before.

  Totally exhausted, they lay in each other's arms, thinking of nothing except what they had just done.

  'I... I never thought I'd ever let anybody do that to me outside marriage,' Liz murmured drowsily. 'Oh, if only we weren't in this terrible place. Gavin I wish we'd never come here.'

  'Then, we wouldn't have met each other, would we?' Gavin laughingly replied and kissed her passionately. 'I guess we can thank old King John for this. Blow him, he can keep his damned jewels. I've found some treasure even if the Professor hasn't!

  They dozed uneasily. The thought of that monstrosity at large on the marshes did cast a cloud over their supreme happiness. Gavin promised himself that on the morrow he would do everything in his power to bring about its total destruction. If only the police would listen to them...

  Chief-Inspector Harborne looked across his desk at the two young people who had just told him the most amazing story he had ever heard in all his years in the Force. He studied them intently before replying.

  'Any other time Td ask for you to be examined,' he said. 'It's like something out of a weird science-fiction magazine. Yet, things have happened here these last few days which we are unable to explain logically. For instance this strange trail of stinking slime which the thing left behind
it; it evaporated into nothingness before we had a chance to examine it properly. Nobody apart from yourselves has seen the creature, but tell me, why has Professor Lowson not accompanied you here this morning? I should have thought that he would have shown more interest in this matter than he has done so far.'

  'Uncle's too wrapped up in other matters,' Liz put in diplomatically before Gavin had a chance to speak. 'He lives in the past He's not interested in the things which happen around him.'

  'I see.' Harborne turned to Detective-Inspector Borg who had so far remained silent. 'Naturally we shall make investigations into what these people have told us. However we can't really call in the army yet to deal with some mythical creature which only they have seen. Perhaps then Inspector you would take some men and locate the body of this man Glover.'

  Borg nodded and left the room.

  'Thank you for coming to see me,' Harborne smiled as he ushered them to the door. 'Please don't think that I disbelieve you. There is something very strange going on certainly. Yet I feel sure there is a logical explanation for it all.'

  'Like what?' Gavin fought to control himself. The bloody fool was going to waste more valuable time in trying to find some down-to-earth solution.

  'Well,' Harborne coughed and looked away. The idea of something out of space is a bit far-fetched you must admit. We must look for something more explicable. There are creatures on this earth which man has never or seldom set eyes upon. The ocean bed holds many secrets, so do the jungles of the Amazon. Could not some exploration party returning from South America have brought this Slime Beast back with it secretly? It escaped and its owners feared to report it to the authorities. There are many lines of thought available to us.'

  Gavin remembered his owe earlier theories and was silent

  Professor Lowson had gone off on his own somewhere when Gavin and Liz returned to the blockhouse.

  'So much for that,' Gavin mused as they ate sandwiches and drank coffee. 'We've virtually got nowhere. The police don't actually disbelieve us which is something I suppose. Now we've got to wait a few days until the experts come up with something. It'll either be a giant gila monster secretly smuggled into the country or a homicidal maniac who has discovered some kind of slime with which to throw the police off the trail! Whatever they decide it all adds up to one thing—delay. Every hour of indecision means another hour of freedom for the Slime Beast! '

  'Couldn't we destroy it ourselves?' Liz lit a cigarette and began clearing the packing-case which they used as a table.

  'What!' He looked up at her, amazement and concern evident on his face. 'Are you crazy, girl?' Then more gently, 'you've been through a helluva lot this last few days. Maybe I should take you back to London after all!' She smiled, confident, taunting him. 'You're the one who's backing down now,' she said. 'It's just that I've been doing a lot of thinking lately and I've come up with a theory. If you'd just shut up for a minute and listen...'

  'Go on,' he sighed, 'let's hear it. We've had that many theories today that one more won't make any difference.'

  'Well,' a smile touched the corners of her pert mouth. 'You remember when the Slime Beast tried to get in here and you repelled it with burning newspapers?' He nodded.

  'It's obviously a creature that thrives on cold and damp,' she continued. 'Fire will frighten most wild beasts, but I think we could go a stage further with this one, and subject it to the exact opposites to the requirements of its body. Dryness and heat are the reverse of damp and cold. Its body structure could not stand up to it I'm sure. Look how the slime which it leaves evaporates after a while. Anyway, those scales, from what I've seen of them, are tougher than armour-plating, so a bullet or even a heavy missile would just bounce off them.'

  'What are you getting at?' Gavin was intrigued.

  'Just this,' she said. 'I believe that the Slime Beast could be destroyed by fire. I don't mean just a bundle of blazing papers, I mean fire projected at it with force. A flame-gun for instance. One of the paraffin models you can buy for a few quid. Lots of people use them for clearing weeds in their garden.'

  He was silent for a few moments. Then he looked up and the sarcasm had disappeared from his expression.

  'Maybe you've got something there Liz. You may just have hit on the very thing that will rid the world of this monstrosity. At least if the flames don't kill it they'll certainly keep it at arm's length. Probably drive it off. So there won't be too much danger in giving it a try.'

  She smiled but said nothing. He looked at his watch.

  'I'll go in to Spalding tomorrow morning and buy one. 'If I remember correctly today is half-closing so all the shops will be shut. We'll stop in here tonight and hope that the Slime Beast gives us a miss. There's nothing we can do for the moment.'

  It was half-past four before Professor Lowson arrived back. They noted the expression on his face and said nothing. He was not in a good humour and was best left alone, but they saw that he was carrying something under his arm. Whatever it was it was concealed in hessian sacking and was very bulky.

  'Now what's he been up to?' Gavin whispered to Liz as the Professor ignored them and shut himself in his own room.

  'He needs watching,' she murmured. 'He's always been a queer cuss but lately he seems to have really gone round the bend. Whatever the reason you can bet that it's something to do with the Slime Beast!'

  It wasn't until he was safely in his own compartment of the blockhouse that Professor Lowson tipped out the contents of the large sack. His eyes gleamed brightly as yards of specially reinforced netting tumbled loosely on to the floor. He gave the sack another shake and four iron grappling hooks clanged on to the concrete.

  He carefully filled and lit his pipe before commencing work. Gnarled but nimble fingers unrolled the netting and then began tying the hooks securely on to all four comers. He pulled hard on each one testing its strength. There must be no slip-ups! A faulty knot could ruin the whole plan as well as jeopardising his own life. He tried each square of mesh. The fisherman who had sold it to him had assured him that it was capable of holding a fully grown shark. It needed to be far stronger than that though if it was going to ensnare the Slime Beast!

  He rolled it up again, carefully, ensuring that the four corners were folded on top of the bundle temporarily held together by the four hooks. He lifted it up and poised it above his head. It was more manoeuvrable now; ready to be thrown, and to open out as it became airborne. All that was required now was a true aim... and the Slime Beast!

  Throughout the day the wild geese had fed in the large field. There were gleanings in plenty here. Careless potato-pickers had left ample tubers lying amid the scattered tops. There was no need to hunt for food. It was there for the taking.

  The afternoon wore on. Once they saw a man in the adjoining field and had slowly walked away in the opposite direction, gaggling in mild alarm. Yet he had not troubled them and soon they were feeding peacefully again.

  The sun began to dip behind the far horizon. The massive grey gander who had brought them here day after day for the past week suddenly stretched his long neck skywards and honked loudly. Sixty pink feet stopped feeding. They gaggled, flapped their powerful wings and knew it was time to go. A rush of wingbeats, a wild musical chorus, and then they were airborne, gaining height rapidly.

  Soon they had formed themselves into a perfect 'V formation, the old gander in the lead, taking a direct course towards the distant mud-flats shimmering in the late afternoon sun.

  As they passed over the dark green saltings they struggled to reach an even greater height. The reports of the guns far below were only too familiar to them. Only in a gale or fog would they be forced to fly lower and run the gauntlet of the waiting wildfowlers. Then, some of them would not make it, and would plummet downwards struck by a charge of shot, to thud lifelessly on to the spartina grass.

  That was life though. They accepted it, and maybe even regarded it as a challenge. Tonight the shot did not reach them. Still the fowlers kept on firing,
hoping that a lucky pellet might bring a hapless goose down, but it did not, and the skein flew on unscathed.

  Another few minutes and the old gander saw the mudflats directly below. They were safe now. They could rest their wings and glide, losing height rapidly until they came to the banks of the Welland Channel where they could roost in safety. The tide was flowing but it was of little importance, for they could sleep afloat as comfortably as on the mud.

  Suddenly a movement on the banks of the channel caught the gander's sharp eye. A wailing gunner? His wing beats were increasing and he was fighting for height even before he could discern it clearly. The remainder of the skein followed suit, honking in alarm. They tensed themselves for the shots for they were well within range.

  None came. The shape materialised, rising from its bed of mud like Behemoth awakened from centuries of slumber.

  The formation was forgotten as the geese scattered to right and left, passing within fifteen yards of the scaly man-shaped monstrosity. A ghoulish face was upturned, soulless eyes noting their presence, yet the webbed claws did not grope vainly in the hope of securing a fat goose.

  The Slime Beast had little interest in animal or bird-life. Human flesh and entrails were more tempting to its vile appetite.

  The geese honked on into the gathering gloom, their favourite roosting-ground forgotten. They flew for fully two miles before planing down again towards the mud, and they decided to settle only after they had circled several times in order to ascertain that no horror lay in wait for them.

  As deep darkness closed in they huddled together, feeling more secure in numbers. Yet few slept peacefully. Like Gavin and Liz in the blockhouse four miles away, they feared that the monster from the mud should slink silently upon them, materialising evilly out of the darkness.

  The old gander had come to a decision in his own instinctive way. Tomorrow he would take his skein further a field. It was quite apparent that this was no longer the domain of the pink foot goose.

  CHAPTER EIGHT