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Authors: Otis Adelbert Kline

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BOOK: The Malignant Entity
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“Seems to be a sort of foam,” I said, “with something alive floating in it.”

“The foam, as you call it, bears a singular resemblance to the basic life principle, protoplasm, when seen under the microscope,” replied the doctor.

“But those white things—” I began.

“The white things," he went on, “are the living remnants of a complex organism that has been destroyed. They are waging an unequal and hopeless battle against assimilation by the globules that surround them. These faithful guardians of the organism when alive still fight, and will continue to fight the enemy until, figuratively speaking, the last man falls.”

“But what are they?” I demanded.

“Unless I am very much mistaken,” he replied, “they are—”

His answer was cut short by the appearance of Chief McGraw.

“Coroner and jury are downstairs,” he said tersely. “I suppose they’ll want your testimony. I’ll leave a couple of men on guard here if you want to come down.”

“Let us go down to the study and complete our perusal of the professor’s manuscripts while the jury is in session,” said the doctor. “We can thus save considerable time and will be on hand when they are ready to question us.”

We met Coroner Haynes and his jurors at the foot of the stairs. They were about to go up for an inspection of the laboratory and its gruesome contents.

Dr. Dorp switched on one of the reading lamps and closed the door. Then he established himself in a comfortable chair with a pile of manuscripts and I followed his example. We found essays and articles on almost every subject pertaining to the transmission or generation of life. There were papers on anatomy, bacteriology, cell-structure, microbiology and embryology. There' were treatises on evolution, spontaneous generation, and the structures and habits of micro-organisms. A forceful and extremely impressive essay set forth the astounding theory that all life was merely a form of force generated from matter. The reasoning was, of course, purely analogical. The professor’s Contention, stated briefly, was that just as electricity, a force that is invisible and indefinable, is generated by the friction of particles of certain kinds of matter, so life is generated and springs into being when certain other types of matter come together in the right proportions and combinations.

“What is your opinion of this theory?” I asked Dr. Dorp.

“It is most cleverly put, but false because based on the false premise of the materialists that there are but two things in the universe, matter and force. They do not recognize the power that controls the force which moves the matter toward a fixed objective. That' power is mind. Thus, to them, all life and all mind are merely forms of force generated originally from inert matter.”

“If the professor succeeded in creating a living thing from inert matter,” I said, “it seems to me that he has demonstrated his proposition.”

“Why?”

“Because he was experimenting with dead matter and not with mind or living creatures. There would be no mind or soul involved to inherit its being from a parent mind or soul. A new life entity would be generated, as it were, from matter which formerly contained no life.”

“I think,” said the doctor quietly, “you would have stated the proposition more accurately had you said that a life entity—a mind without a body— had been induced to enter the body synthetically created.”

Our discourse was interrupted by Chief McGraw, who informed us that we were wanted by the coroner.

The Coroner’s Jury

DR. DORP did the talking before the coroner’s jury. All the way through his testimony was negative. When asked if he had any idea what killed the professor and the policeman he replied that he had several ideas, but none of them would be worth bringing before the jury without more facts to substantiate them. I could see that his purpose was to get the inquest over with as soon as possible so we might continue the investigation.

After due deliberation a verdict of “Death from cause or causes unknown,” was brought in and the coroner departed with his men.

“Now that the inquest is over, what do you suggest?” McGraw asked the doctor.

“My suggestion is that we immediately destroy the liquid in the glass-lined tank in the laboratory.”

“Why?”

“Because I am convinced that it is at least one. of the causes of the deaths that have taken place in this house.”

“I suppose you have a good reason for your assumption.”

“An excellent one, I believe. While you and your men were searching the house, Mr. Evans and I conducted a little investigation of our own. We put some of the liquid under the compound microscope and as we both saw the same things I am convinced that my eyes did not deceive me. Tell the chief what you saw, Evans.”

I described the foam work, the granules and the white objects which appeared to be alive and struggling to escape.

“All Greek to me,” said the chief. “What was it?”

“The foam work with its accompanying granules closely resembled protoplasm, the basic life substance.”

“And the white things—”

“Were white blood corpuscles from the veins of a human being. They were the strongest of the human body cells to resist assimilation and consequently the last to succumb. The red corpuscles turned the liquid pink for a while but they had disappeared before we made our microscopic examination.”

“Good Lord, why didn’t you tell me this before?”, demanded the chief. “Let’s go up and destroy the stuff now. Those two men up there might be killed any minute.”

We found the two policemen unharmed and made our plans for the destruction of the substance in the-tank. Several demijohns of acid stood under the table and the doctor selected one nearly full of sulphuric acid.

“Open the windows,” he ordered. “This is going to make a horrible stench.”

Then he removed the rubber stopper from the mouth of the demijohn and I helped him hoist it to the edge of the tank. The searing liquid struck the heavy fluid in the tank with a hissing sound and bored into it like hot water poured in a snow bank. The jelly-like mass quivered slightly, and pungent, nauseating fumes arose to torment our nostrils.

Then, suddenly, as if in horrible pain and awakened to the danger of its dissolution, the plasmic substance began to heave and billow toward the top of the tank with a movement suggestive of the writhing of a huge coiled serpent in its death agony. By directing the stream of acid at the various peaks that arose we endeavored to keep it all washed down to a common level. Then a dozen peaks rose simultaneously and I noticed that one was capped with a round ball in the center of which was a black spot.

“The nucleus!” cried the doctor excitedly, shifting the demijohn. “Pour it on the nucleus!”

We were too late. The thing upreared itself with amazing speed and lopped over the edge of the tank opposite us. ..We dropped the nearly-emptied demijohn into the tank and rushed around to intercept it, just in time to see the ball containing the black spot separate itself from the stringy mass by which it was suspended, drop to the floor and roll under the table.

An exciting chase of several minutes ensued. The thing darted, or rather, rolled from place to place with amazing rapidity. The tile floor was cracked in a dozen places by blows from the clubs of the two policemen who assisted us. At length we drove it into the corner beneath the lavatory and advanced in close formation. I had armed myself with a large spatula, the doctor gripped a heavy pestle, the two policemen had their clubs and the chief held his automatic pistol in readiness.

As we drew close we moved with extreme caution, our nerves taut, our weapons ready to strike when the thing should make its dash for liberty. We waited breathlessly, but no movement came from the corner. I prodded the space behind the water pipes with my spatula. Still no sign of the thing we were after. Then I peered behind them and saw the reason—a hole an inch in diameter in the tile floor, probably drilled in the wrong place by a careless plumber and left unfilled because it was out of sight.

When I pointed it out to Dr. Dorp he shook his head solemnly.

“The Malignant Entity has escaped,” he said. “No one in this house—in this community, even— is safe until it is captured or killed.”

“You don’t mean to tell me that little thing we were chasing around the room could kill anybody,” said the chief.

“I am not so sure that it could kill any one now that it has been reduced to the size of a golf ball, although the cytoplasm surrounding the nucleus evidently has the power of quickly dissolving and assimilating living tissues. Its growth, apparently, is only limited by the amount of food it can find.”

“Maybe we’d better get the women out of the house,” said the chief.

“The sooner, the better. I suggest also that you surround the place with men armed with shotguns. If that thing gets out and starts to grow I shudder to think of what may happen. Children will not be safe outside their own homes, and perhaps not even within them. Adults will be attacked as soon as the creature has attained sufficient size, and there is always the possibility that it may have the power to reproduce its kind. Organisms of this kind, as a rule, multiply with exceeding rapidity. Think of a thousand or perhaps a million such monsters roaming through the land. It is almost impossible to kill them because of the power we have just witnessed, of leaving the body, no matter how large it has grown, taking with it only enough cytoplasm to protect the nucleus and make a new start.”

We were all gasping from the fumes that came out of the tank, and glad to get out of the laboratory.

When all were assembled in the living room the chief phoned headquarters for men and shotguns while Dr. Dorp and I explained what we had found to Miss Townsend.

After we had described our adventure in detail, the doctor said:

“It seems strange that your father left no records of his experiments with the monster.”

“I feel quite sure that he left a record of some sort, though I have never seen it,” replied Miss Townsend.

“Have you any idea where it is?”

“Perhaps in his safe in the study.”

“I do not remember seeing a safe in the study.” “Naturally. It is hidden. Come and I will show you where it is.”

We followed her into the study and she swung back one of the bookcases which was hung on concealed hinges, revealing a small wall safe,

“Would you mind opening it for us?” asked the doctor.

She turned the dial to number twelve, then pulled the lever. It did not move. She seemed surprised, set the dial more carefully and tried again with the same result.

“It’s no use, I guess,” she said. “The last number of the combination is twelve. He usually turned it back to one and then it was only necessary to turn it to twelve to open it. He must have locked it last night.”

“Don’t you know the combination?”

“No. Father was the only one who knew that.” “I wonder if you would object to our blowing the safe,” he asked.

“Not if it will be of any assistance to you.”

Chief McGraw, who had just finished calling headquarters, came into the room.

“Think you can get us a safe-cracker tonight, Chief?” asked the doctor.

“Get you most anything you want. What’s in the safe?”

“We believe it contains some valuable information regarding the thing we were chasing a while ago.” “I'll get a man out here right away,” said McGraw, going once more to the phone.

Officer Burke escorted Miss Townsend, Mrs. Harms and the two servants to the Harms home, where they were to spend the night.

Shortly afterward there arrived twenty policemen armed with shotguns and carrying several dozen bulls-eye lanterns. They brought extra weapons which were distributed to all of us who remained in the house, the chief, the doctor, the four policemen and myself. Burke was to remain on guard next door.

A ring of lanterns was placed around the house and the twenty armed men were posted at intervals between them. We then divided our forces as follows: One policeman was placed on guard in the laboratory. Chief McGraw with another policeman patrolled the upper rooms and halls. The doctor and one policeman remained on the first floor and I, accompanied by a strapping young fellow named Black, who had recently been admitted to the force, did sentry duty in the basement.

Theorizing

THE Townsend basement was divided into three rooms, each lighted rather dimly by the yellow rays from an incandescent globe suspended on a short drop-cord. The furnace room and coal bins were situated at the rear end. The middle compartment contained a miscellaneous assortment of boxes, barrels, garden tools, household tools, canned fruits, empty fruit jars, bottles, and what not. The front room was used as a laundry.

Officer Black and I searched each room thoroughly, using a flash light in the dark corners and moving everything that wasn’t fastened to the floor or walls. Several mice jumped out from behind boxes and barrels, but we saw no sign of the creature we were hunting.

We were peering behind the furnace when several loud squeaks came to us from the middle room.

With shotgun held in readiness, I moved stealthily toward the point from which the sound came. There, in the center of the floor almost under the yellow electric light bulb, I saw the fast disappearing body of a mouse under a mass of plasmic jelly.

My first impulse was to shoot, but on second thought, I decided to attempt to capture the thing alive if possible. Instructing Black to hold his weapon in readiness in case I failed, I unscrewed the lid from a large empty fruit jar and walked softly toward the center of the floor. I expected the thing to spring away, but to my surprise it lay almost motionless on the body of its victim. I could see streaks of bright red flowing through the jelly-like mass as blood of the mouse was drawn up for assimilation.

I clapped the mouth of the jar over the creature and still it made no effort to escape. Then, sliding a fire shovel which Black brought me, under the thing and its victim, I turned the jar right side up. It fell to the bottom of the receptacle, still clinging to the now formless mass that had once been a mouse and making no effort to escape. I put the lid in place and screwed it down tight.

BOOK: The Malignant Entity
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