Challenger had no doubt that the beast would eventually slaughter him if it could. But there was a hope, a slim chance he could thwart it, stop its murdering incursion into his century - he could send it back into the darkness of extinction. He’d been shown the way by the long-dead hunter from pre-history, but only if he could get to a river.
He could beat it. But the catch was, it would cost Challenger his life. He dwelled on the matter for days, steadily getting weaker. He knew that if he didn’t attempt his plan soon it would be too late. It was now or never. Challenger wrote down a few words of cryptic explanation. It was all he felt he could do. If he told all, in its entirety, he doubted he would be believed anyway.
It was night. He pulled on a jacket that had oddly seemed to have grown by two sizes since the last time it had been worn. Challenger went unsteadily down the stairs, gripping onto the rail. His body felt dreadfully weak. Once in the hallway, he cautiously bent down and peered through the brass letterbox. He could see nothing in the darkness, but it was out there - he could feel its presence stronger than ever, like a second powerful heartbeat that pulsed intensely through his body. The question was, could he make it to his brand new Enfield Landaulet before it attacked him?
He felt certain that the creature was already strong enough to cause physical damage in this world. Before long it would be here completely, in all its terrible glory.
He summoned his waning strength. The front door was yanked open and he dashed the few yards down the drive to his motor vehicle, which had been bought on a whim two years since, and had been seldom used since. He had purposely left the starting handle engaged in the front of the engine. A quick turn or two and the 25 HP engine caught and idled happily away, mindlessly unconcerned as to the terrible danger that threatened Challenger. The driver door was unlocked, he pulled it open and tumbled inside. He tried to slam the car door shut, but couldn’t. He looked down. An indistinct shadowy appendage had reached into the gap and blocked all his attempts to close it. His leg suddenly seared with a white hot pain. Scarlet furrows magically appeared on his pant leg and blood gushed freely. Challenger howled in agony, and with both hands now holding the door handle he repeatedly slammed it until suddenly it closed. He clutched at his torn leg, his teeth bared in an expression of his pain. There was a terrific thump on the top of the car– the leaf suspension groaned and the metal and fabric roof suddenly depressed inwards several inches, thick cloth tearing under the sudden strain; the rear windows smashed, showering the interior with shards of glass. Challenger instinctively ducked. The Sabre-tooth was above him. Challenger pushed a pedal down to engage the reverse gear and at the same time advanced the throttle lever on the steering wheel. By now, despite the relative lateness of the hour, many of his neighbours were out on their doorsteps, staring incredulously at Challenger’s odd antics and the commotion he was creating.
His car reversed quickly and collided heavily with a parked motor vehicle that was on the roadway opposite. Without waiting to observe the damage he had caused, Challenger put his car into the first forward gear and shot away toward the distant Thames River.
As he drove, coaxing every spare ounce of speed that the Enfield would give him, he put it into the second and top gear. Professor Challenger glanced fearfully to the side, the shadowy bulk of the incredibly graceful creature from the dawn of time was pacing him. Its shape was still not clearly defined, but getting more distinct with each passing minute. It seemed to leap effortlessly over any obstructions, obviously intent on tearing him apart. The game was over, it was a matter of survival. Either way, Challenger knew he would die; but if he could drown himself as his counterpart did eons past, the link would be broken and the Sabre-tooth would vanish from existence once more. However, if the beast succeeded in killing him first…
They were almost at the river; it looked black and oily in the darkness. Challenger pulled the wheel round and headed straight for the bank. He knew at the speed of an incredible thirty-two mph his car would easily breach the safety railings. But even as the vehicle accelerated, the monstrous feline landed on the bonnet. The front wishbone suspension instantly distorted, both leading tires bent in on themselves as the bearings collapsed and the car nosed into the floor. The sudden added weight at the front and the instant deceleration flipped the car over. The vehicle cleared the railings, spinning end over end, and landed upside down in the water. The weight of the engine rolled the car again till it was upright. The current spun it round once and then it went quickly under, taking Challenger with it.
The river flowed into the car. Challenger was at peace as he prepared to suck in a lungful of water and end his torment. But as he opened his eyes just before his head was submerged, a dreaded sight almost stopped his heart. Inches away from his face, the huge and terrible aspect of the Sabre-tooth with its glowing yellow eyes and wicked fangs was there, clinging to the front of the sinking vehicle… The head thrust forward and the windscreen glass burst in. Challenger had strangely forgotten something vital. Sabretooth tigers, like all members of the felidae family, could swim quite well if necessary. If it killed him now, then it would be the end of Professor George Challenger’s existence and the beginning of this fearsome Smiladon’s. With a desperation born of necessity, a simple and elegant solution came to him. The car was sinking farther down. The creature, also submerged, was trying to get its bulk through the now broken out windscreen, but could only realistically fit in part of its immense shoulders. One huge paw that was tipped with razor sharp claws frantically tried to hook Challenger and drag him out of his seat. The professor had, in the intervening seconds, yanked off his silk tie. Making a slip knot in it, he deftly placed it around the flailing paw, and quickly hitched the loose end to the metal windscreen frame. The Sabre-tooth pulled back and the slip knot instantly tightened. Fighting against his instinct to breathe, Challenger kicked himself away from his seat and out of the car door, avoiding the probing paw. The Smiladon had now realized it was caught– and the last thing Professor Challenger could see before the wrecked car was dragged deeper and lost from his sight, was the creature desperately struggling to free its trapped leg as it was pulled down towards the river’s bottom. Challenger kicked hard for the surface. He was bruised and battered, but by some miracle he had survived.
Two days later as the professor watched, the police had Challenger’s Enfield motorcar winched slowly out of the Thames. As the smashed vehicle was gradually dragged out of the depths, becoming visible, Challenger realized, with some trepidation, that only part of his silk tie was still attached to the frame. Of the creature there was no sign. Unnoticed by anyone, as the dripping wreckage was hauled onto dry land, its progress managed to churn up and eradicate some very peculiar and deep tracks in the soft mud of the riverside. Challenger shuddered as he looked up and down the river, as if hoping to see something in the water. But there was nothing to be seen. Turning away, he pulled up his collar against the chill air, still limping from his injured leg, he made his way back home to Enmore Park, deep in troubled thought.
As the night drew on, the police and City officials stood around in the darkness, measuring up, smoking and drinking mugs of hot tea, chatting happily away and completing their paperwork.
They were totally oblivious that two large luminous eyes were staring coldly at them from a dark shadowy distance. Blissfully unaware that the hunt was now on.
CHALLENGERS IN SPACE
by Michael R. Brush
1 I received the handwritten envelope eagerly. Challenger’s barbed wire handwriting had not improved with age and had made it easily recognisable. I was again disappointed in my hope that one day he would address me simply as Edward, like any other father in law, but bluntly ‘Malone” began the missive. I paused in the hallway before making my way to the study.
“ What does my father want now?” came the delightful refrain from the living room, obviously she knew the only thing to stop me in my tracks was her great sire, The GEC.
“I won�
�t know until I read it, Enid,” and with that I slipped quietly away to examine my orders, for I was sure that was what the letter would amount to.
The sequence of directives said that I was to keep the whole procedure secret from everybody, and that I should follow the laid down instructions to meet him on that Isle we visited so many years ago, decades even. All the arrangements had been made, it concluded.
“Well, after making the world scream, he’s obviously got another grand idea on the go,” I said, on returning to Enid and sitting down.
“Secret?” she asked.
“Confidential,” I answered somewhat sheepishly. “That’s Grandfather, isn’t it Albert?” Enid asked our youngest, as he played on the floor, the eldest was at her school and learning more and more each day.
Engrossed in his toys, he happily ignored us adults as I continued, “It looks like a bit of a trip, I’m afraid.” “That’s alright,” answered Enid, ruffling Albert’s hair, “you will probably be off to that odd man-made island in the middle of nowhere.”
“Really?” I asked to cover up my shock at hearing that. “Oh, yes, we went down there with Victoria, didn’t we Albert, when you were off doing something for Nature,” Enid replied easily, before continuing, “the air seems to be doing great things for him, he seemed much younger there.”
“ Good,” I answered, my head in a swirl. After my return from the Isle Out of Time, Tarp Henry had kept a very low profile. I put it down to him making sure I could not even attempt to rope him into any more of my adventures, although after writing some columns and doing the odd trip for his periodical we had managed to cover over the breach. It must have been during one of those trips that Enid referred to. Without even leaving the house, my life was getting odder and odder and all because that great mind had once more reached out to me. I smiled to myself.
“That must be it,” I said, patting the letter in my pocket and left for the study to reply that I would do as instructed. It was a dreary morning that I waited for signs of the particular ship that was to return me to the Canary Islands. This was only the first part of the trip and I found my advancing age had crept up on me. My bones ached with the damp cold, although I tried to philosophise with myself that anyone who was as fit as me and approaching their fifties ought to be grateful for their robust health. As I stifled a sneeze, I cursed my efforts and decided to sink into a comfortable sulk.
Eventually I saw it pull into the private dock Challenger had appropriated for his purposes. Having his private fortune had made him even more of a recluse. When two burly sailors jumped overboard and wrapped their ropes about bollards, I made my way on board, clutching my one bag and grasping a rail with my free hand. I observed that without any formalities, the two sailors merely unlooped their ropes from around the bollards and jumped back onto the deck.
I was soon steadied by one of the hands and led off the deck and introduced to my cabin. It was just as well, good as my sea legs have become over the years, being unbalanced on board a ship turning to leave almost overcame me. Saved as I was from the misfortune of sprawling over the deck, I examined my cabin. It was spacious, as they go, but Spartan and I unpacked my bag.
The captain was a friendly enough figure who entertained me at his table but it seemed that he restrained himself to speak only of maritime matters. The mystery, or at least the sense of mystery deepened, and I was once more thrown into the whims of fancy as the spirit of adventure crept slowly up on me.
This sense of pervading weirdness only deepened on arrival at the Canary Islands. Alerted by the captain, I had packed my things and was on deck as we approached the port of Las Palmas. Instead of proceeding to land, the anchor was dropped.
“She’ll be here soon enough,” the captain told me as I looked out from the bow.
“I suppose we are waiting for the ship to take me into harbour?” I asked.
“I doubt that,” he answered with a wry grin, “you’ll be taken straight off on one of Challenger’s own ships.” I was not sure whether to be insulted that Challenger did not trust me to keep this matter confidential once landed or gratified that he had taken such matters for my rapid progress towards him. Whilst pondering this I saw a small, brass boat slowly approach us.
“That’ll be her,” observed the captain, “You are ready?”
I nodded my reply and pointed to my bag, on the deck next to me.
“Well, it’s been a pleasure,” he said and just left me there, to go and shout orders to make ready for the oncoming ship. I had to climb down the rope ladder to the deck of the ship that had come to collect me. My luggage was passed down and I was struck by the odd sense of familiarity I felt when I saw the captain of this neat little vessel.
“Captain Storlock, I presume?” I asked, risking what had become a cliché, hand outstretched in greeting. “ Malone?” he replied, after I nodded, he shook my hand and continued, “I am Cap’n Storlock but you are probably mixing me up with my old man, boy did he have some strange stories.”
He released my hand and with that exchange over just wandered off as I sneezed furiously. Having enjoyed some maritime air for a few days, I had yet to shake my cold off.
If I hadn’t kept my journal I would not have believed how rapidly Captain Storlock had conveyed me to that strange Isle but instead of having a flat, featureless top there was now a strange needle like structure rising towards the sky. I remembered Challenger’s theory that the place had been built to launch craft into the unknown galaxy. The audacity of my great friend took my breath away, I could only conclude that this was his next big thing!
I was about to ask if we could circumnavigate the isle when, after recovering from a sneeze or two, I noticed the ship had altered course in anticipation of my request. The artificial structure was much the same as I remembered but around its edge it now boasted a set of railings. This made me sure that Challenger had decided to occupy this real estate on a permanent basis. Surely, I thought to myself, as ways to indulge his reclusivity this was excessive, even for him!
Captain Storlock did not stop for my considerations and by the time I had collected myself we were underneath the massive overhang that jutted out over the sea from the top of island. As I looked up, I remembered how on the previous trip only glimmers of light shone through all the hurricane deposited debris, now however the hole had been cleared out and I could see that a great machine sat on top of the two prongs that had survived the ages, supported and held erect against any future storm by a small hill of scaffolding.
Once past we turned away from the open sea and headed towards the other end of the isle and the harbour formed from two outreaching arms of rock. I could not but be impressed at the dramatic change of the dockside from my previous visit. All the barnacles, limpets and seaweed was replaced by bare, clean rock. Reassured by the progress made, I grabbed hold of the railings against which Storlock rested his faithful craft and transferred over to the dockside. One of his hands deposited my bag next to me and with a wave, he said he would be around for a while but he was scheduled to take a closer look around the island to make sure everything was secure.
I smiled and waved him off. Picking up my bag I made my way into the interior wondering where my host was, or whether or not I would be met by one of the workers so obviously needed to accomplish all this activity. Without seeing any sign of anybody, I deposited my bag in the first entrance, now with a proper lobby and decided to climb to the summit.
“ Ah! Malone!” bellowed Challenger as soon as I turned my back. The voice was unmistakable and heartened to hear my great leader, I turned to face him.
“ George!” I cried before descending into a fit of sneezes. Prepared as I was by Enid’s comment, the transformation of my Challenger was striking. He looked five or so years younger than when I had last seen him.
“Well, we’ll have to get that cold sorted out,” he said without any preamble and led me into the hollow isle.
Fascinated that he had a cure, I forgot my bag in my ha
ste to keep up with him. “ It is a well-known medical fact that colds and other such complaints are the product by a parasitical intrusion by colonies of microbes and I have just the thing to sort you from them,” he said as we gained a ramp. I was half listening to him as I took in the change along even this most simple of corridors. The strange bulges that we had suspected may once have been used to light the interior were giving off a soft glow that gave ample illumination and revealed wires and pipes that ran along the top of the walls. “I have not only replicated Theodore Nemor’s Disintegration Machine but I have also plumbed its mysteries, far beyond, I believe Nemor himself suspected.”
“ What do you mean?” I asked, in a daze. Despite the obvious plans afoot for some herculean effort to travel away from our planet, he had also managed to reconstruct Nemor’s device. It was almost more than I could cope with.
“On entering this room, we will cure your cold,” he said as if that were an everyday achievement. I stepped forward into the brightly lit room and there it was. The device was not entirely as I had remembered it but it was unmistakable. There was the seat over which hung a large colander looking device, facing the seat was the large crystal block. There were wires trailing all over the floor and I noticed a low hum that was obviously from the power supplied to run the contraption.
“Now, just take your seat and we’ll have you fit in no time,” instructed Challenger, all business. It was then that I realised that instead of the simple lever controls Nemor had used, Challenger walked over to an electromatic typewriter, “I have found that using a control board with more options allows for a greater subtlety of employing the device.
“Are you ready?” he asked, turning to me. “Is this thing safe? You know Enid wouldn’t forgive you i f something went wrong,” I said, suddenly faced with even temporary obliteration, getting cold feet.
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