The smell seemed to follow him. It was pungent and penetrating. He growled again and increased his pace to a steady lope. The fog did not worry him. He knew every alley in Sutton by scent He did not need to see. He ran past The Bull into the Main Street, then suddenly he stopped.
There was something in the road. He could make out a vague shape, similar to Man yet it was not Man! The stench was stronger now, halting him like an invisible barrier. He looked up. The thing was much bigger now than it had at first appeared. A breeze was blowing, dispersing the mist with every second. Slimy scales glinted in the moonlight Rex wanted to flee, but his muscles refused to yield to his natural instinct He barked. It sounded feeble. The beast let out a low rasping growl. It took a step forward. Then another. Then it had him.
The long drawn-out howl of canine fear brought the usually slow-moving Tom Southgate from his bed to the windows in a single bound. He peered out. The mist had cleared completely. Then he saw the Slime Beast for the first time. It was holding Rex at head height. The Alsatian was struggling desperately, snarling and snapping at the scaly claws which held it. Vicious canine teeth clamped down on a stinking slimy arm. They crunched and snapped, and a smattering of broken bloody fangs dropped to the road.
'What is it?' Marjorie Southgate sat up in bed. 'What's going on out there Tom?'
The publican clutched at the window-sill for support. 'It's a... beast! It's killing Rex! It really exists.'
The Slime Beast had got Rex by the neck now. Snapping the vertebrae was a simple matter. It flung the lifeless Alsatian to the ground. Claws sunk into the fur and ripped at the flesh, then the beast dropped down on all fours in order to dismember its victim more easily.
Rex was disembowelled in a matter of seconds. The Slime Beast grabbed ravenously at the heart and liver, stuffing them simultaneously into the slitted mouth. It gurgled and squelched as it masticated, blood and entrails dripping.
Tom Southgate pushed Marjorie back roughly as she approached the window.
'Don't!' he yelled, 'for Christ's sake don't look. It'll send you out of your mind! '
She flopped back on the bed quivering.
The landlord rushed to the far comer of the room. He grabbed the twelve-bore which lay on top of the wardrobe and fumbled in the dressing-table drawer for cartridges. It seemed an eternity before he located a couple and pushed them in to the open breech. He did not speak. Words just would not come. Possibly because there was nothing to say. nothing intelligible anyway.
The window-sash was stiff, and he had to use all his strength to force it open. The beast was still there, but there wasn't much left of poor old Rex now, he noted. Head. Legs. A few strips of fur. He remembered the reports on Manton Haywood's corpse. There was no doubt what had been responsible for that.
The thing stood up and turned in Southgate's direction. Did it see him? If so, it gave no sign. He sighted it. The fearsome countenance was directly in line with the twin barrels. He squeezed the triggers, both together. Take that you bastard!
The recoil from the double charge flung him backwards. He staggered, regained his balance and rushed back to the window. The beast was still there, unmoved, just looking up at him. Sightless or seeing?
'Jesus wept!' He pushed Marjorie back again. 'More cartridges, quick woman. Tip those drawers out. Shell the bastard.'
Windows were being flung open down the street. A man cursed. Some women were screaming. The men folk had been roused by Southgate's shots. The idea caught on. Moonlight glinted on several pairs of gun barrels. Breeches snapped shut. Safety-catches and hammers clicked.
But the Slime Beast appeared not to heed them. It had fed and was satisfied, so there was nothing further to detain it here. It began to lumber off up the street in the direction of the salt marshes, greyish-green slime dripping from its scales, blood trickling from its jaws.
Then a deafening boom rang out Somebody was using a heavy four-bore, its cracking report almost drowning those of the lesser gauges. Fire, reload, fire! Flame stabbed from a dozen or so windows, in a vicious crossfire of angry lead shot, fired by men who could kill a springing teal in the half-light of dawn or dusk simply by snap-shooting. Now they were presented with a target a hundred times larger, almost stationary.
Tom Southgate dropped his gun to the floor. There were no more cartridges. The barrels were almost too hot to hold anyway. Somewhere at the end of Main Street somebody was still shooting. The man with the four-gauge. It was his last cartridge, and the Slime Beast was level with him now. Twenty yards, no more. An easy head shot. His shoulder ached but he punished it again. Dense clouds of black-powder smoke filled the room and hung heavily over the village street.
The Slime Beast moved on, unperturbed.
In the end house a large man was pulling on a dark blue uniform. The silver-plated buttons were more difficult than usual to fasten. He reached for helmet and truncheon, changed his mind and picked up the telephone receiver. This was no matter for a village constable. A higher authority had to be consulted.
CHAPTER NINE
IT was midday when Chief-Inspector Harborne and Detective-Inspector Borg arrived at the blockhouse. They had noted the absence of the Land Rover by the sea-wall and at first glance the concrete building appeared to be deserted. However, just as they were preparing to enter, Professor Lowson appeared in the open doorway. He was unkempt and dressed in an open-necked shirt and ex-cavalry trousers. He gave the impression of just having risen from his bed.
'Good morning gentlemen.'
He was more affable than usual. 'What can I do for you?'
'We've now established beyond all doubt,' Harborne was inclined to be abrupt, dispensing with any formal greeting, 'that there's a dangerous creature on the loose. God only knows where it came from and where it's hiding. Anyway it paid a visit to Sutton village last night, killed a dog... and ate it! Almost everyone who owns a gun opened up on it. They might just as well have used pea-shooters for al the difference it made.'
Professor Lowson lit his pipe and waited for the other to continue.
'Where's Mr Royle and Miss Beck?' Harborne snapped.
'Gone into Spalding for supplies,' Lowson replied, eyeing the two official men keenly. He was far from pleased but managed to conceal his feelings. Too many people were showing an interest hi the Slime Beast for his liking. He made no effort to invite his visitors inside. The sooner they left the better.
"I've called in the Army.' Harborne made no secret of the importance which he felt 'Some heavy artillery and a few soldiers will be moving into the village this afternoon. I have no doubt in my own mind that this creature will return; if not tonight then tomorrow, or the next night. Whichever it is, we'll settle it once and for all. Make no mistake about that! '
Lowson wished they would go. However they did not seem to be in any hurry to depart
'We retrieved the remains of Glover yesterday afternoon,' Harborne growled. 'On the face of it it appeared to have been the work of a homicidal maniac again. Terribly mutilated but that foul slime had disappeared completely. Never seems to last more than a few hours. We've got a top boffin down from London, but he can't fathom it out either. Any ideas?'
'Search me!' Lowson gave a hollow laugh. 'Everybody else seems to think it's come from outer space. Might as well go along with that idea. It's as good as any.'