Doc Ardan and The Abominable Snowman

by Guy d'Armen

Yet, if this was the work of a madman, it was very well constructed and full of some interesting concepts. Especially when one considered when it was written. It was too bad de Venasque hadn’t made it back to civilization. Had he returned to France, he would have had a future as a fiction writer.

  When Ironcastle returned I related the above conclusions to him. He listened intently, but didn’t show any emotion until I stated my final thought on the matter. The only way to verify the account would be if someone journeyed to the North Pole to investigate. Ironcastle smiled and nodded in approval. He asked me if that was my way of volunteering. I paused for a moment, and stated that it was. Ironcastle was pleased; he proclaimed he had reason to believe portions of de Venasque’s account. I asked him to enlighten me, but he looked around the room and shook his head. He then told me it wasn’t the time or the place to discuss such things.

  Ironcastle and I left the Gun Club together. He wished me luck and instructed me to reach out to him should I need anything. I began planning once I got back to my lodgings, which my cousin and his bride have allowed me to use while in Baltimore. I’ll be leaving tomorrow morning to gather resources and begin planning the expedition.

  March 12, 1928, Kabarova, Russia

  I have spent the last two weeks in this small Samoyed village situated south of the Jugor Straight, near the entrance to the Kara Sea. This is the same village where de Venasque and Ceintras prepared for their voyage in their dirigible. All inquiries made around the village support their presence here in 1905. Some of the villagers who were children, or young adults, remembered the pair very well. From the descriptions of the villagers, I was able to sketch the appearances of the two and have the townsfolk confirm my accuracy.

  Tracking down the lover of Ceintras proved to be quite easy. I spoke with her... and her son who is now 23 years-old. She accepted the fate of Ceintras long ago, but in private, she asked me to bring back his body, if there was one to be found. I made no inquiries on the parentage of her son, as it was simple to deduce.

  My means of travel will be a Boeing Model 40 A. It’s one of only twenty-five built. I’m making some customizations to the engines and frame to allow for better performance in cold temperatures. The craft must also be modified to allow for additional fuel. Luckily, compartment space is plenty. If need be, I can easily fit a passenger in the cargo hold with my equipment.

  Preparations are going splendidly. I hope to have the modifications completed in the next few days, followed by a test flight by the end of the week. If successful, the aircraft will then be transported by ship to the southern tip of Franz Josef Land, just as de Venasque and Ceintras transported their dirigible. My cousin has graciously lent me the use of his ship, the Faucon Occidental for transportation.

  March 16, 1928, Franz Josef Land, Russia

  The test flight was a success. I arrived this morning in Franz Josef Land aboard the Faucon Occidental. Camp was set up. All preparations are set for a sunrise flight tomorrow morning. My plan is to spend the rest of the night in my mind palace in preparation. If all goes according to plan, my next journal entry will be from the North Pole. For purposes of record-keeping, I will use a chronometer of my own design to keep track of the time, and day while at the pole.

  March 17, 1928, The North Pole

  Although the area surrounding the pole is in total darkness this time of year (with the sun due to rise in the next few days), I was guided to this spot by an orange light on the surface. Upon landing, I observed the obvious lack of violet light, as well as any plant or animal. The ground was a solid sheet of ice, with no sign of any river or stream. The source of the orange light I observed from above was a small signal fire. I quickly unpacked my supplies and set up a tent for shelter. I plan to use this as my base of operations while investigating the surrounding area. I’m going to take refuge from the cold and attempt to get some rest before exploring the area further.

  March 18, 1928, The North Pole

  I woke feeling refreshed and eager to begin my investigation. After eating my morning rations, I returned to the fire. Utilizing the flames, I ignited a torch. Around the blaze I observed a path of well defined footprints that led to the fire. The footprints then circled around the fire, and disappeared back into the darkness. The tracks made a large horseshoe shape. Judging by the depth and rendering, the same person must have been walking over their own footprints for some time.

  The below zero temperatures at the pole required me to bring some prototypes I recently completed. I’m particularly proud of the undergarments that prevent my body heat from escaping. Pair these with the heat packets I inserted in my boots and gloves, and I was able to stay out in the open for hours at a time. I’ve been letting my hair and facial hair grow since leaving for Russia, and it has come in very thick. Every little bit helps. I donned a pair of pilot goggles as well. After checking my handset to ensure the tracking device on the plane was functioning, I pursued my investigation of the footprints.

  I walked parallel to the trail for ten minutes before my vision started to blur. After approximately two more minutes, I began to lose my equilibrium. My knees buckled, forcing me to stop my trek. I closed my eyes and concentrated on my breathing, taking an internal diagnostic. Before I could complete a hypothesis, the sensation faded. My vision cleared and I was no longer off balance. I decided to continue following the trail, when I noticed the footprints were no longer visible. After circling the area, I was unable to find any sign of the tracks. The only footprints I could locate were my own. Not only that, but I noticed I felt a bit winded, as though I was at a higher altitude than before.

  An examination of the horizon revealed I was on a plateau between two mountain peaks. This shouldn’t have been possible. I posited that I may have blacked out during my trek and somehow ended up there, thanks to my prodigious physical abilities. Even for me, that situation seemed remote. I consulted my hand-held tracking device, but the screen gave no indication of my aircraft’s presence. The device was functioning, as the dot indicating my position was active, but there was no sign of my plane.

  When modern technology fails me, I’m always open to more archaic methods. So I looked to the stars. I had studied the arctic sky upon landing the night before. Gifted with an eidetic memory, I can assure you the sky I was observing was no longer the same sky. Even the Pole Star, Polaris, proved difficult to identify, as it was out of position.

  With both technological and archaic means of navigation failing me, I chose to attempt to retrace my footsteps. I turned around and began trekking back in the opposite direction. Continuing on the same course away from my shelter and means of egress would have been most unwise, regardless of how far away I actually was.

  As I turned back, I noticed movements in my peripheral vision. I was being flanked on both sides.

  I had just enough time to pivot and execute a baritsu technique on the assailant on my right, which flung him into the attacker on my left. Both fell to the ground on impact. The two tripped over each other trying to get back their footing.

  They growled at each other in their disorientation. Clearly, these beings had never encountered the martial arts before. Their confusion was to my benefit, as it provided me time to study their appearance. I also gave some ground to put some distance between us, as to better observe them.

  They weren’t human. Well, they weren’t homo sapiens, that much was obvious. Their faces resembled Neanderthals’. They snarled and made gestures at me. I would describe their skin pigment as yellow, and they had thick black manes. The beings wore white animal skins, presumably of the polar bear. They were squat, approximately 5’4” in height, but they were stocky. They were especially broad in the shoulders. These were powerful-looking creatures. Judging by their heads and hands, they had large skeletal structures as well.

  As I prepared for their attack, two more creatures appeared behind them. Then two more behind those. The initial two creatures I encountered had their blood up and this worked up the other fou
r into a frenzy as well. It’s my belief that they were verbally communicating with each other. They kept staring at me with what I can only describe as murderous intent. Finally, they reached beneath their cloaks and produced daggers made of bone.

  It was my estimation that I was capable of snapping their necks or backs with my bare hands on an individual basis. However, this would be a difficult task when fighting them simultaneously. It was evident if all six were to rush me at once, there would be little I could do. Even a smoke pellet from my vest would only delay the inevitable. I was outnumbered six to one on an icy plateau with no escape. Coming to the conclusion that I was faced with a fatal outcome, no matter the situation in hand to hand combat, I decided to engage them with a weapon.

  I reached into my belt and drew my dagger, the God Slayer. This is an ancient blade I discovered on an archaeological expedition in the Caspian Sea. The name is derived from the scrolls found cached with the blade, which claimed it once slew a deity. The blade was razor sharp and made of an alloy that I haven’t been able to identify. I had little doubt in its capabilities to sever the thick muscle and bone of these creatures.

  If the creatures had attacked first, I wouldn’t have been able to defeat their superior numbers, so I took the initiative and launched myself at the first two creatures. Gripping the blade with a backhanded grip, I made a single arching cut across the throat of one creature, severing his jugular. I grabbed the second creature by his mane and drove the blade through his forehead and twisted for good measure.

  Two others came at me, but they attacked head-on and I had the advantage of a longer reach. I kicked one squarely in the face to buy some time. Then I spun behind his partner and attempted to sever his spinal cord at the base of the neck. I did cut him, but evidently not deep enough. The creature attempted to get back to his feet, but I stabbed down and embedded the dagger in the top of his skull. Expecting attacks from the final two, I spun around and prepared to defend or attack. But the final two weren’t attacking. As a matter of fact, they were giving me some ground. I was about to back away and go about my business when I discovered the reason for their hesitation.

  Out of the darkness walked even more creatures. A quick count put their numbers at roughly a hundred. These creatures were garbed in thicker animal hides, and all carried spears. It was apparent I had only met the forward scouts of this larger army. The remaining two scouts eyed me with sinister intent. The joy was apparent on their cruel faces. The situation looked grim until the scout closest to me looked puzzled and began sniffing the air. He looked to his right, pointed and yelled in alarm.

  In the direction he pointed was a large group of warriors, their bronze armor and swords gleaming in the moonlight. I counted their number to be at sixty. They didn’t have the superior numbers, but this didn’t seem to faze them. Their leader shouted: “Lomar rus!” as he led the charge into the fray.

  It was an epic and savage battle, with both sides rending flesh and bone all around them. As much of a spectacle as it was, I didn’t think it would be wise to be around to answer to whomever the victors might be. I retreated and took the opportunity to quickly rehydrate and consume some rations. Then I made my ultimate exit from the scene.

  I approximated the direction where my aircraft was supposed to be to the best of my ability, and began running in that direction. I needed to get away quickly, but didn’t want to burn excess calories due to my situation. My rations were limited. So I jogged lightly, and went into a wolf trot once I felt I was far enough away from the battle. According to my chronometer, I wolf-trotted for a half hour. The peak I was running toward didn’t seem to be getting any closer. I continued my pace until I became overcome with disorientation once again. Closing my eyes and focusing on my breathing got me through the episode once more.

  When I opened my eyes, it was to a violet-lit sky. I wasn’t standing on ice any longer, but grass. A feeling of warmth came over me. Twenty yards in front of me was a flowing stream. I was now at the very place described by de Venasque. Seeing the stream, I knew the dirigible and entrance to the underground tunnels must be nearby. I crossed the stream and made my way over a small hill. On the other side was the dirigible, still anchored to the surface. I crouched down and produced a pair of binoculars, then scanned the area.

  I saw no signs of movement at first, but I did spot the door to the tunnels described by de Venasque. I remained in a crouched position at this location for several minutes before venturing down to the dirigible.

  On my way down, I observed footprints both human and non-human. The human footprints were consistent and appeared to belong to the same person. While the non-human footprints were inconsistent and seemed to belong to different individuals. Before approaching the dirigible, I buried the God Slayer. If the magnetic clamps were still active beneath the vessel, I didn’t want to have my dagger pinned to the surface as well. As I rounded the base of the dirigible, I noticed a small campfire that was still burning. The remains of a small fowl-like creature were still on the spit roast.

  I proceeded to enter the dirigible by knocking on the cabin door, but no answer was given. I entered and saw the reason why: there was a man on the floor curled into the fetal position. I crouched down and examined him. He was a little bit older, but it was without a doubt de Venasque. However, he didn’t look nearly as aged as I expected him to. My diagnosis was he was suffering from malnutrition from a lack of a balanced diet. From the scraps around the room, it appeared his only source of nourishment was from meat of the fowl-like creatures. I felt his abdomen and it was rock hard as well. I deduced he must be having difficulty passing stool, causing him added discomfort.

  I undressed out of my heavy arctic garb and unpacked the supplies. My first order of business was to get some nutrients in his system. I administered an IV solution mixed with ingredients from my first-aid kit. I also performed an enema to help him with his abdominal discomfort. While he didn’t awaken for nearly three hours, his bowels did vacate multiple times. I observed the look of discomfort on his face disappear. The man was a bit confused when he first woke up, but this was eclipsed by his joy at how much better he was feeling. He thanked me for my help and introduced himself as Jean-Louis de Venasque. I shook his hand and introduced myself, before he drifted back off to sleep.

  To say this has been a busy day for me is an understatement. According to my chronometer, it’s now 22:00. I can’t begin to understand the events of today, but hopefully tomorrow will bring some answers. I’m going to refill Venasque’s IV bag and get some rest myself.

  March 19, 1928, The North Pole

  After awakening at 07:00, I checked on de Venasque. Upon measuring his pulse, he jolted upright. Not used to having anyone touch him for quite some time, this startled him out of a dead sleep. He then remembered the situation and my name. I explained to him how I came to be there and what I had discovered since arriving at the North Pole. I explained the periods of disorientation to de Venasque and he stated it started happening to him as well. De Venasque proved to be quite sound of mind despite my earlier conclusions drawn from his manuscript. He appeared to have overcome the mental stress inflicted upon him.

  De Venasque indicated he has been the one lighting the signal fire, and if I had followed his footprints exactly, I would have reached his location much sooner. Apparently, the North Pole is in a state of flux due to the Earth’s magnetic field surrounding it. This has caused a strange phenomenon to develop. De Venasque calls them “invisible doors,” but I believe they are rifts in space and time.

  When one travels through them, they visit the North Pole, but not necessarily the native North Pole of their own time or dimension. It’s just a theory and I have no way to prove it, but, “once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth”.

  The Great Detective’s logic is ever sound, and proved quite reassuring. Especially in the face of what could be considered a supernatural event.

  I indicated to
de Venasque, that if he could lead me back to the signal fire, I had an aircraft ready. I told him I was willingly to fly him and Ceintras back to Russia, or anywhere else they would like to go. The mention of Ceintras’ name caused a frown on de Venasque’s face. He relayed that he hadn’t seen Ceintras since he left the camp of his own will. De Venasque told me he kept track of the days by when he fell asleep. However, once he became ill, his sleeping habits became too erratic to be accurate. By his estimation, five years had passed, possibly more (which again tells me there is a peculiar distortion surrounding the North Pole). De Venasque stated Ceintras was surely dead by now. He explained he had only managed to survive by consuming the miniature pterodactyls and their eggs. His only source of water came from the stream.

  When I asked him about the iguanadons, a look of fear washed over his face. According to him, when Ceintras committed his act of murder, it was like a ripple in a pond. Ceintras introduced the concept of murder into their culture, and they haven’t been the same since. Although they still allowed de Venasque to live on the surface, the iguanodons would attack him if he entered or approached the tunnel. I asked him if he had had any luck with the magnetic clamps, but he said he gave up finding a solution some time back. He told me the door to this dimension he and Ceintras accessed in the air would be very difficult to find now anyway. He suggested we both leave on foot via the ground “door” which he used to keep the signal fire lit.

  I agreed, but didn’t wish to leave right away. After traveling all this way, I intended to visit the underground tunnels and observe the iguanodons. We left the dirigible, and I retrieved the God Slayer. De Venasque walked me to the rift he used to return to our native pole, and I instructed him to wait there for my return. I couldn’t enter the tunnels without a disguise, so I made use of iguanodon skins de Venasque had in his possession, as well as a fresh iguanodon corpse found near the stream. The corpse had its throat torn out, but it could still be made into a suitable mask. De Venasque indicated this type of martial combat was becoming more and more common among the People of the Pole.