The Monster Part 7

And he felt the other thoughts starting to move forward in his mind again and he forced them back. He knew he must keep control of that mind. For there was something that he must do.

He thought desperately about it. And the pattern became clearer in his mind.

The cosmic rays. The reaction in his body. He had sought immortality in the door to outer s.p.a.ce and had found a monster waiting for him. A force that had changed his glands, grown the s.h.a.ggy fur on his body. Glands that had warped his mind. Opened an age-old cunning of feline thought.

_Glands._

Gaddon's thoughts whipped the word. Held it. Knew it must be the answer.

And then it found a prayer of hope. And a name that went with that thought.

"Fenwick! I've got to reach Fenwick before it's too late. _Before it's too late!_"

His voice came hoa.r.s.ely, strangely formed. And he looked wildly about him. He saw, off in the distance, a glowing of lights in the night. And he knew somehow that it was the city of Tucson.

And in that city, at its very edge, was a house he must reach.

He stumbled away into the darkness, feeling his limbs move rapidly then, smoothly, covering the ground in great leaping strides.

And though Gaddon's thoughts kept the balance of control, deep inside his mind, the monster growled with a cunning laughter ...

Fred Trent pulled the last sheet of paper from his typewriter and leaned back in his chair exhausted. That was it, the end of the story. He waved his hand at a copy boy and the boy ran up to take the final page. Each sheet had been taken like that, to be immediately set in the composing room. Now it was finished, the story of the year.

And as Trent slowly lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, he knew that he had done a good job on the story. And a smile crossed his face as he thought of it. His future was a.s.sured now. There could be no more stopgaps, no more delays in his plans to marry Joan and settle down. And the girl would have to agree. For the first time in many months, Fred felt that his troubles were over with. And the feeling was nice. It spread through him and he was content.

He glanced at his wrist watch and frowned. The story had taken longer than he had antic.i.p.ated. It was nearly eleven. Some of the enthusiasm ran out of him as he thought of Joan waiting for him at Fenwick's. He could imagine how angry she must be by now.

He got up quickly from his desk and reached for his hat. As he started to walk away, the phone on his desk rang.

He stepped back and picked up the receiver.

"Trent speaking."

"_Fred!_"

Trent heard his name uttered in terror across the wire and he felt a chill run through him as he recognized the voice. It was Joan Drake.

"Joan, what's wrong?" he asked anxiously.

"Fred! Come quickly! Bring help before it's too late--he'll kill us!"

"Joan! For G.o.d's sake, calm down! Now what's the matter?" His voice held a tenseness in it as he spoke.

"It's Gaddon, Fred! Only it isn't Gaddon--it's a monster! He'll kill us!"

"_Gaddon?_" Trent's voice spoke incredulously. "But that's imposs--"

"Oh, Fred, hurry-- I--oh--no--no! Keep away--"

He heard the girl scream over the phone then. And he heard something else. A growling sound. A sound of animal noise unlike any other sound he had ever heard. And then as he shouted into the phone: "Joan! Joan!"

the line went dead.

He stood for a moment, staring stupidly at the receiver in his hand.

Then he slammed it back on its cradle and turned. He nearly knocked over the copy boy who hollered at him.

"Hey, Trent, the boss wants you in his office!"

But he swept by the boy unheeding. He didn't wait for the elevator. He took the stairs in leaping bounds, and then he was on the main floor of the building and out on the street.

He slammed the door of his car shut and started the motor. His hands trembled as he meshed the gears and shot the coupe away from the curb.

Then he was moving swiftly through the traffic.

As he turned down the street where Fenwick's office was, Fred Trent's mind was a whirl of confused thought.

There was fear there. Fear and dread. And there was puzzlement too. A puzzlement that made his brain spin. Joan had spoken with terror in her voice. Terror that had said somebody was going to kill. And Joan was not a girl to be easily frightened. And she had mentioned Gaddon's name. Gaddon, the man who had shot into the heavens in an experimental rocket. Gaddon, who was supposed to be dead.

He felt now that same feeling that had crept through him after the launching. The feeling that had whispered in his mind that maybe Gaddon had been right after all. That maybe he wouldn't die. That maybe ... And now the dread swept him. For he thought of the sound he had heard over the phone. The last sound before the line went dead. The sound of an animal growling in wrath. And he remembered the girl's scream about a monster.

A cold sweat was on his forehead as he pulled the coupe into the curb in front of the Fenwick house. He switched off the motor and closed the car door after him.

Then he was hurrying up the walk to the front door, his eyes taking in the house in a swift glance, noting that the lights were lit in the consultation room. Lights that slivered out from the closed venetian blinds.

He stood then on the front porch, his hand closing over the k.n.o.b of the door.

It was locked.

He pressed the bell then and heard its clarion sound inside the house.

But other than that there was nothing to be heard. A deep, ominous silence that somehow brought a feeling of panic to him. Was he too late?

And then suddenly the panel in the front of the door opened and a face peered out at him.

Fred Trent felt the blood drain from his lips. A paralysis seemed to grip his body at what he saw framed in the opening.

For it was not the face of a human being. And yet, it was not the face of an animal. It was a horrible, twisted, cat-like visage that peered out at him, furred and ugly, with bared teeth and glowing, feline eyes.

And as he looked, a sound came from the twisted lips. It was the same sound he had heard over the telephone. The sound of a growling rage.

And as the sound hit his ears, a terrible realization swept over him.

For his eyes, riveted on that monstrous countenance, had registered an impossible fact upon his mind.

_As twisted as it was, as horribly changed into an animal grimace, it was the face of someone he knew--the English scientist, Blair Gaddon!_

And then suddenly the face vanished from the opening. And Fred Trent felt his paralysis leave him. He knew now that he should never have come alone. That he should have called the police first. That he--

The door swung open then and Trent found himself facing the thing that had been Gaddon.