The Incredible Melting Man (3 page)

He left the lab and walked along the corridor. The bloodstained floor and walls had already been wiped clean and workmen had been and boarded up the broken window. Everything had assumed a peaceful normality as he stepped out into the bright sunlight of the parking lot. Nevertheless he couldn’t help but notice the ominous pile of damp-looking sand as he cut across to his flat at the far end of the complex.

Funny that he’d not heard anything first thing this morning; he was normally a light sleeper. He felt his temples suddenly prickle as he thought of Judy looking out of the window and witnessing the scene. It was going to be bad enough breaking the news to her. She’d have to know. They’d have to entertain Perry and she’d be bound to smell a rat when he arrived. In any case, he desperately needed her moral support.

She was upstairs resting when he entered the house. Without disturbing her he made himself a cup of coffee and sat down in the lounge to relax and think. The sun was streaming in through the window and aggravating the headache that had nagged him all morning.

He walked over to draw the blinds, gazing out at the lab and following the line the search party had taken. Where the hell had he gone? What had been going on in his decomposing mind? He fought back the hideous notion that had plagued his brain since he’d discovered the mutant cell. What was the
raison d’etre
of an amoeba except to feed and ultimately reproduce? He’d need continual nourishment to synthesise the massive amounts of nuclear material contained in those cells. And he was taking it directly by ingesting vast quantities of human tissue.

Only panic dislodged the sickening image of the mutilated nurse from Nelson’s mind. My God! he thought. He’d made straight for the domestic quarters after killing the nurse—the only other source of food at that time of day!

He was seized with fear for the safety of his wife. He was upstairs now! That’s why the search party had missed him!

He jumped up, splashing coffee over the carpet. He dashed upstairs and flung open the bedroom door. Sunlight was filtering through the net curtains on to the composed features of his sleeping wife. She stirred, opened her eyes, and gave him a happy smile.

“Hello, darling. What’s the matter? You look in a state.”

His anxiety melted when he saw his wife’s tranquil face. How beautiful she looked, and healthy. He was sure she could make it this time and have the child they so desperately wanted. If only—

In that moment he determined to keep the news about Steve from her at all costs. He’d shoulder the worry alone.

“It’s nothing, love,” he said. “Nothing at all. Things have been a bit hectic at the lab, that’s all. We’ve got some big-wig coming down from Houston and I’ve had to jump to getting a few reports together.”

Judy’s face clouded with concern. “How is Steve?” she asked.

“No change, I’m afraid,” he lied. He frowned as a thought struck him. “Darling,” he said, reaching for her warm hand. “Don’t let on to General Perry that you know anything about Steve. You’re not supposed to know he’s here, you know. It’s strict security.”

“General Perry?,” she exclaimed. “Coming here? Isn’t he in charge of operations, and during countdown—Ted, darling, something is wrong, isn’t it?”

“Perry’s just a figurehead,” he bluffed. “Things will continue OK without him. He’s just flying over for a while.”

He was saved by the telephone, yet the sound made him start nervously. He excused himself and went downstairs to answer it.

“Hello, Nelson.”

The curt crackle of General Perry’s voice burst down the line. “Found him yet, Nelson?” he demanded.

“No, sir. But we’re doing our best.”

“I should bloody well hope you are,” exploded the General. “It’s as much as your job’s worth, Nelson, if you don’t get him quick. And if any of this gets out I shouldn’t give much for the future of your lab, either. Understand?”

He slammed down the phone, leaving the doctor staring hopelessly at the receiver. Judy had come downstairs and was standing watching him from the doorway.

“Hadn’t you better tell me what it’s all about?” she said quietly, moving towards him and brushing a tangle of hair from his forehead. “Come on.”

She drew him to the settee, brushing her soft lips against his cheek. “Unshaven?” she scolded gently. “My! You must have been up in a hurry this morning. What is it?”

He gave himself up to the sweet warmth of her body. For a moment he felt defenceless, like a child. He’d have loved to have curled up in the soft safety of her womb where their child was. He placed his hand on her stomach to see if he could feel the swelling yet. The perfect sanctuary for the child to develop, for the cells to divide and grow in peace.

She felt his hand stiffen and his body grow rigid.

“What’s the matter, love?” she enquired.

Like a poison the thought had seeped back into his mind. The grotesque gestation within Steve’s body. What hideous destructive seed from out there in space had lodged there? He’d hated Loring’s ruthless logic, but what was the ultimate purpose of the mutant cells? The amoeba feeds to reproduce. What unearthly offspring would grow from the jelly that was once his friend?

“I’m sorry, love,” he said, seeing his wife’s look of alarm. “It’s Steve. It’s a lot worse than we thought.”

“Contagious?”

“Sort of,” he replied. “But there’s nothing for you to worry about.” He rose to leave. “Look, Judy, love, I must get back to the lab. I’ll tell you more when I can. Promise.”

In the heat of high noon the waterfall drew them. The cool stream slid like silk to the edge, was held in the vertical blast of the torrent, then burst on the rocks below in stinging clouds of spray.

Two boys, about eight or nine, sat on the bank at the base of the falls in the shade and security of the overhanging bushes. One of them puffed inexpertly at a cigarette watched by the eager eyes of the other.

“Come on. Give me a go, Billy.”

Billy stuck assiduously to his task, tentatively drawing the hot smoke into his lungs before exploding in a fit of coughing. The other boy saw his advantage and grabbed the cigarette from Billy’s shaking hand.

“There, told you it would make you choke,” cried Peter triumphantly. “Watch me!”

He drew fiercely on the cigarette until the end glowed red, then just as fiercely expelled the smoke in a noisy splutter.

“You didn’t do the swallow,” protested Billy.

The noise of the waterfall drowned the sound of the approaching footsteps. A hand settled on Peter’s shoulder.

“Ah, Peter Brightwell,” piped a small shocked voice. “I’ll tell Mom over you.”

Peter swung round guiltily then scowled contemptuously at his younger sister. “I’ll bash you if you do,” he threatened.

The threat worked and the small girl ignored the cigarette.

“Mom said you had to play with me,” insisted the girl. “She said you’d got to look after me.” She looked down with a mixture of pleading and hero-worship in her eyes. Peter scowled more forcefully, nonchalantly drawing on the cigarette until the smoke was in his mouth then spitting it like poison.

“Clear off!” he snarled.

The little girl refused to be intimidated but sat down resolutely on the bank beside her brother, drawing her knees up to her chest and staring up at the waterfall with pure blue eyes.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” she sighed.

Peter sneered scornfully and turned his back on her, generously handing the soggy cigarette to his friend. Billy, equally generously, declined the offer.

“Let’s play a game,” suggested the girl brightly after a few moments.

The idea met with a mute response. Undeterred the little girl went on. “Why not play hide and seek?” she cried. She looked round at the wood-lined river bank. “It’s a lovely place for hide and seek.”

A furtive gleam entered the eyes of her brother. “OK,” he said, clambering to his feet. “Come on, Billy,” he said, giving his friend a sly nudge. “Let’s play hide and seek with Carol.”

He led the way into the trees, selecting a large pine where he stopped.

“Right,” he ordered. “Carol, you’re It.”

Carol pulled a face. “I don’t want to be It. You be It and me and Billy’ll hide.”

Peter shook his head determinedly. “No, unless you’re It, I’m not playing.”

Carol gave in reluctantly and approached the tree. She grasped the trunk, making to hide her face, when her hand touched something sticky. She drew it away with a cry of disgust, a string of slime hanging from her fingers.

“What’s that?” she cried.

“Nothing,” replied her brother. “Don’t be so soft. Wipe it on the grass. Ready?”

Carol held her hand away from her, screwing up her small features with distaste and wiping the hand vigorously on a clump of grass at the base of the tree. She was very unhappy.

“Right,” called her brother. “Close your eyes and count to fifty.”

“Fifty?” she protested. “That’s too much.”

“Fifty,” insisted Peter. “Or we don’t play.”

Carol turned grudgingly towards the tree-trunk and covered her eyes. In her small blue dress she was dwarfed by its massive girth. She began to count.

The boys set off down the path. They’d only got a few yards before Peter grabbed Billy and steered him away to the edge of the wood. They broke into a run when they were out of the trees and disappeared across a field.

Carol continued to count, oblivious of their total departure. She was having some difficulty with the higher numbers and it was a long time before she reached fifty. Her small shrill voice scrupulously counting out the numbers was the only sound to disturb the encroaching silence of the wood.

When she’d finished she uncovered her eyes and turned. A happy smile lit her face as she grew to the excitement of the game.

“Coming,” she called, but the sound fell flat in the wood’s heavy stillness.

First she crept stealthily round the tree, craning her small neck in the hope of catching a glimpse of them before they saw her. Nothing.

There was another thick trunk deeper inside the wood. That would make a good hiding place she thought, moving towards it, concentrating with all her might not to stir the dead leaves underfoot. Her breathing came in short bursts as she grew out of breath with the effort of stealth and her mounting excitement.

There was no one behind the second large tree, and her disappointment came out in a sharp sigh. The wood had grown darker, trees crowding in. She looked about her with mounting confusion. There were so many good hiding places now, she didn’t know where to start. As she became aware of the stillness she began to grow afraid.

Suddenly she heard a stick crack in the undergrowth. The worried frown melted and the excited smile returned. It had come from behind the silver-barked tree over there. She crept towards it, then stood for a moment listening.

She felt sure she heard breathing.

She hesitated, her fear returning.

“Come on out,” she called. “I heard you. Peter? Billy?”

Silence. Now she heard nothing but the pounding of her own heart.

“Come on out,” she cried tearfully. “I’ve caught you.”

Still nothing stirred and she approached the tree warily. Then, she gave a sudden jump, compressing all her own fear and alarm into the movement and letting out a cry meant to frighten the hider into revealing himself.

There was no one behind the tree.

As her disappointment began to crystallise into panic she caught the sound of leaves stirring behind her. The breathing was unmistakable, heavy and pained. She shrank against the bole of the tree, her hands coming into contact with something sticky. She let out a terrified scream and burst into tears.

Slowly, out of the undergrowth where he’d been crouching, the thing rose to look at her.

She stood transfixed with horror as it stumbled towards her. The torn and bloodstained remains of a white hospital gown flapped around it, from which the pale limbs protruded, the flesh grey and swollen like a corpse the sea has had time to work on. The hands were outstretched, half questing, half in supplication. The face was a mutilation, features running like melting cheese, so that the hard case of the skull began to poke through at the brow, the cheek bones, and the jaws. The eyeballs swam restless and hungry in their red and bleeding sockets.

He reached for her face, a trail of mucus falling heavily on to the blue flowers of her dress. Then the fingers faltered and a thin and ragged cloud of memory drifted across the unholy landscape of his face. The sunken lips began to work and between the heaving gasps of breath came the choked fragments of a word. It sounded like “girl’.

Carol closed her eyes and ran, tumbling over the outstretched roots of a tree. She opened her eyes and the awful monster had gone. Screaming for her mother she rushed away into the wood.

The thing turned slowly, almost sadly, and watched her go. Then the red fury struck and the heat rose up inside him, spilling into his eyes until they burned with the unquenchable thirst to kill. He lunged after her, plucking wildly at the overhanging branches which blocked his way. A hidden strength drove him, fuelling the tired cells to a new impetus. Smashing his way through the undergrowth he burst out of the wood into the blinding sunlight.

His sickened mind reeled, throwing up the broken memories.