The Slime Beast

Below them all was silent except for that steady breathing.

'Well, it's still asleep.' Gavin found his cigarettes, lit two and passed one to Liz. 'Christ only knows what it would have done if we'd woken it up.'

The Professor crawled back to the edge of the crater and peered down, his fear dispersing rapidly.

'Interesting,' he murmured to himself. 'Fascinating, unbelievable! And to think that we should have the honour of finding it'

'What do you think it is. Professor?' Gavin asked with an arm around Liz. 'Or to be more precise where do you think it came from? A prehistoric era? Life preserved in the mud?'

Professor Lowson shook his head.

'No,' he replied, 'definitely not. It is not of this earth. That slime is proof enough of that. I would say that somehow it has come from another world—a distant planet; another galaxy. Somewhere where it lives beneath greyish-green mud. Though how or why it is here is beyond me.'

That's crazy,' Gavin laughed. Hollow and unconvincingly. 'A beast from another planet! There has to be a logical explanation somewhere. Maybe it's come from a zoo, or a safari park. Caught up in the wilds of South America or some such place, then escaped.'

Professor Lowson rarely laughed. He did now, but there was no mirth in it, only peals of semi-hysterical laughter rang out until Gavin and Liz both feared that his mind had snapped. Suddenly he stopped. He was rational again and cantankerous.

'No,' he murmured. 'Not even the darkest jungles of the Amazon could produce anything like this. Yet it has come from somewhere and we have been privileged to find it.'

Dusk was now turning to darkness. A good half-hour's walk lay ahead of them and Gavin did not relish the idea of losing their way on the saltings. Especially with a loathsome creature like that in the vicinity. It was sleeping, yes, but surely it must awake sometime.

'We'd better make a move.' He helped 'Liz to her feet 'First thing tomorrow morning I'll get a call through to the British Museum. This is something they won't want to miss.'

But Lowson's voice stung him like a whiplash. 'No. This is ours. Yours, Liz's, Mine! The greatest discovery of all time and you would let someone else take the credit for it! Allow ourselves to be merged into anonymity? Think again, man! Anyway we haven't had a chance to examine it properly yet. We cannot dismiss it with a cursory examination in the half-light. The best thing we can do is to come back here tomorrow and have a good look in broad daylight; take a few tests, and then we can decide what we are going to do.'

Gavin nodded. It seemed logical. Just so long as nobody else found it in the meantime!

Professor Lowson followed Gavin and Liz. He spoke little, his mind occupied with recent events. That fool Gavin Royle. It was typical of his breed to want to call in the experts right away! Experts! They would have even less idea of the beast's origin than he had. His theories would be dismissed Somebody in authority would come up with some preposterous notion. Earliest form of man and all that rot. He could visualise the small part his own expedition would play in the days that followed. The newspapers would report the thing as having been 'discovered by a small party searching for King John's lost treasure'. Maybe even no names would be mentioned. And what would they do with the monster? Most likely put it in a cage and charge extortionate prices for the public to come and gawp at it! It might even die. Then the taxidermists would resurrect it There was something else though. Something which only he had noticed. Something which emanated from the thing. Power! He could not explain it even to himself; he just knew it—felt it! Like waves of atomic radiation. Evil but omnipotent

He thought about it again. Power was made to be harnessed, used and controlled. Take robots for instance: machinery, greater in strength than a whole nation of people; yet mindless and built to serve. This beast was a robot except that it lived. Probably it 'lacked the logic of even earliest man.

It needed a master, and only one man in a million would be able to do it: Professor John Lowson! He smiled at the thought. No good saying anything to either Gavin or Liz. Neither of them had any ambition.

It could be done. He didn't see how at this very moment but most certainly he would find a way. All he needed was time. Time for research. Time to apply the findings of that research. So far he had gained a day. Tomorrow they would spend with the slumbering beast, but the day after ... Gavin would certainly want to get in touch with the British Museum then.

Fortunately the darkness prevented the other two from seeing his expression. Nothing would stop him. There were ways and means of silencing his companions ... for good, even if one of them was his niece. Calor-gas had a nasty habit of leaking, particularly during the nocturnal hours when people slept... never to waken! Still, there was always the chance that they would listen to reason.

The block house loomed up ahead of them, gaunt and uninviting.

Liz collapsed into the nearest chair as soon as they entered, quivering with relief.

Gavin busied himself preparing the food. 'Perhaps it would be best if you stopped here tomorrow. After all, apart from that horrible thing in the mud that smell can't do anybody a lot of good. You stand a chance of catching diphtheria as much as anything.'

But her expression was defiant 'You two aren't going to steal all the glory. After all it's just a... Slime Beast!'

'The Slime Beast.' Gavin paused and turned round. 'Say, that sounds a good name for it. The Slime Beast... sums' it up perfectly.'

He handed the other two a mug of soup each and picked one up for himself.

'Well, I guess we'll know a good deal more about it by this time tomorrow. Then we'll really be able to give the boys some info to start on.'

Professor Lowson took his soup back to his quarters with him. He "would take no chances on his expression revealing his thoughts.

CHAPTER THREE

THE meal such as it was, seemed to revive them. New life coursed through their veins and all traces of tiredness disappeared. Gavin looked at his watch.

'Eight o'clock,' he said. Too early for an early night even. We could always go into Sutton for a drink. We can take the Land Rover.'

Liz began brushing her hah'. 'Good idea. I could do with a break. Just to get out of this stuffy hole for an hour or so will be a relief.'

She went into the adjoining compartment to tell the Professor and found him seated at a card-table, surrounded by books and papers, busily writing in his notebook. He did not even look up.

'Uncle Jack,' she said. 'Gavin and I are just popping into Sutton for a drink.'

'Hmm. . .' he carried on writing. She went back to Gavin.

'He's lost in his own little world,' she smiled. 'Probably writing a thesis on the Slime Beast. Getting it all ready to hand over to the British Museum along with the thing itself. Ugh!' she shuddered.

There was only one pub in Sutton: The Bull, which stood just back from the estuary in the centre of a row of untidy cottages.

They noticed the name over the door as they entered:

Thomas Southgate—Licensed to sell Beer, Spirits and Tobacco.'

There was just a public bar: nothing else. Bare boards, half a dozen tables and chairs and a dartboard at the far end. Some fishermen were playing dominoes and three or four more clustered round the bar. The large bearded man pulling pints of ale was obviously Tom Southgate. He was sullen and spoke little.

Gavin ushered Liz into one of the chairs and walked up to the bar. Southgate looked up, saw him, scowled and carried on serving. Surly bastard, Gavin thought