was Gaddon struggled to fight it back. For it realized with a sickness
that spread horror through it that the thought was part of the animal
existence that had been created in him. Part of the monster that lay by
instinct in all feline creatures. And Gaddon knew that the dead creature
at his feet, the limp and twisted body of the cat, had died long before
his hands had crushed it in their mighty grip. For the essence of that
life, that animal existence, had been merged with him, fused by a mighty
source from outer space.
* * * * *
And as he struggled with the thought, fought to regain the balance of
control of the strange body that was now his, the rocket chamber swayed
in a gust of wind from without. And as he clutched the sides of the
chamber with his strong claw-like hands, the chamber gave a bounding
lurch as it struck the ground a glancing blow.
There was a grating sound as the metal chamber gouged into the earth,
sank its weight upon the Arizona soil. And the thing was thrown
violently against the side of the chamber.
Then there was quiet again.
Gaddon's mind fought to the fore, took control of that feline man-shape
that was his, struggled to its feet and moved in a lithe bound to the
opposite side of the chamber. A clawed hand reached up where Gaddon
knew the release mechanism of the door lay, and pressed it.
The door slid back with a sliding sound and the cool night air rushed in
upon it.
Gaddon moved his cat-body through the opening and bounded to the ground
in a lithe, powerful movement. He felt new muscles react as he landed on
the ground, and knew that there was a great strength in them. Strength
that was waiting to be used.
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 space and had found a monster waiting for him. A force
that had changed his glands, grown the shaggy 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 hoarsely, 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 assured 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 anticipated. 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 God'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 knob 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.
He took a backward step and started to turn and run for his car and
help, but he was too slow.
An arm shot out and a claw-like hand suddenly gripped his shoulder in a
swift, steel-like movement. He felt himself being pulled forward and
into the house, as another growl snarled from the lips of the creature.
Trent tried to break the grip of that vise-like hand. He tried to smash
his fist into the ugly visage of a face that confronted him. But he was
like a child in that grip. And like a child, he was hurled across the
hall, and he heard the door slam shut behind him.
As he got slowly to his feet and turned to face the creature, he heard a
sobbing sound from the open door of the consultation room. It was the
voice of Joan Drake.
And then the monster had reached him and the clawed hand reached out
and spun him through the doorway, into the consultation room. And he
heard a growling voice utter harshly: "You will regret this
interference, Trent!"
And he knew that it was the voice of Blair Gaddon. And yet he also knew
that it was not the same voice. It was changed. It had a bestial quality
to it.
Then Trent looked around him. He saw Joan Drake, huddled in a corner of
the room, beside Dr. Stanley Fenwick. The specialist was sitting in a
chair, holding his right hand to his mouth. Fred could see blood oozing
from a gash in the surgeon's lips.
* * * * *
And then he heard another sound. A sound from without the house, coming
from the rear. It was the baying of Brutus. The big dog must have sensed
the presence of the monster. And it was protesting in its animal voice,
a mournful dirge.
Then his attention was drawn once again to the animal body of Blair
Gaddon. And now that the first shock had left him, Trent stared at the
man. He heard the girl sob.
"Fred! I told you to bring help--"
"Be quiet!" the voice of Gaddon issued from the twisted lips. And the
girl's sob stifled itself in a look of dread.
Then the face that had been Gaddon turned to Trent. There was a twisted
leer to it, and Fred sensed that there was a struggle going on in that
warped mind.
"You are Gaddon? The Blair Gaddon who went up with the experimental
rocket?" Trent's voice came incredulously.
The face of the creature twisted in a grimace of acknowledgment.
"Yes, Trent. I am Blair Gaddon. I am not a pretty sight to look at, am
I?" Words left the twisted lips, and there was a bestial pain in them.
"But--you're supposed to be dead! Mathieson--"
A strange sound of irony came from Gaddon.
"Mathieson was right about the cosmic rays--I know that now. Look at me!
You see what has happened to me? I sought immortality through the life
energy of space--and look at me!"
Horror reflected in Fred's eyes in that moment. For he felt the pained
terror in the voice of the animal shape before him. And he saw the
claw-like hands clench spasmodically.
"My glands!" the voice screamed. "The cosmic rays reacted on them--fed
the essence of the cat into them--changed me into this monstrous being!"
Trent stared at the rage-filled face. Felt the emotion that was sweeping
through the creature. Felt a sudden compassion that was erased by the
bestial look that came into the monster's eyes.
And then it turned toward the chair where Fenwick sat. The doctor was
looking at the creature, his eyes wide and terrified.
"But what do you expect me to do for you, Gaddon? Why do you stand here
threatening--" Fenwick's voice came hoarsely.
"Why? You fool! Because there is so little time! I am changing! Even now
my human instincts are nearly gone!... You're a gland specialist! There
is something you can do--stop this change--stop it!"
Fenwick shook his head slowly. "You're raving like a madman, Gaddon. I'm
not a God--do you think I can change something that is beyond human
understanding? If you'll only let me call in the authorities ..."
A growl of rage left Gaddon's animal lips. "Authorities! So you can have
me put in cage like a wild beast? So you and your medical experts can
stand and watch me as you would a freak? You're a fool! You'll help me
now! You'll do something--before it's too late! Do you hear me?"
The creature advanced slowly upon the doctor, and the girl backed away
to the far wall, fear mirrored in her eyes.
Then Fred Trent stepped forward, his voice tense.
"Hold on, Gaddon--of course the doctor will help you--_won't_ you,
Fenwick?"
There was an urgent emphasis in Trent's last words, and his eyes caught
those of the surgeon's, and held them in a meaningful look. He couldn't
say what he wanted to, but the message in his eyes was imparted to
Fenwick, and the doctor suddenly nodded.
"Yes--yes, of course ... But you'll have to remain quiet, Gaddon, and be
patient a moment...."
The creature stopped its advance upon Fenwick then. And a growl rumbled
in Gaddon's animal throat.
Then Fred watched as the doctor stepped swiftly to a table with
instruments and hurriedly began to prepare a hypodermic.
"I'll give you a special extract injection to start...." Fenwick
explained as he worked.
And Trent knew that the doctor was preparing an injection that would
subdue the monster. That would enable them to call the police....
And the eyes of Gaddon watched the fingers of the surgeon prepare the
hypodermic. And for a single moment the human part of Gaddon's monster
mind relaxed its tenacious hold.
* * * * *
There was a rumble of raging thought deep within his twisted brain. It
swept up, gripped the human element, and enveloped it. A hoarse mewing
sound left the twisted lips as the mind became a single, bestial thing.
And now it thought with a viciousness. It knew now that it was finally
in control. That the full change had been completed. And it knew
suddenly what it wanted.
Its animal eyes stared at the three humans. And it felt a hatred for the
men who did not understand it. And it felt a desire for the woman who
feared it. A desire that crept out of the primeval jungles. That swept
through it to find one of its kind. And there was the vague instinct
that was Gaddon, who told it how to fulfill that desire. Gaddon, who
knew where the secret lay.
And then there was the driving urge that swept up from the animal ages.
The urge to kill, to destroy what was hated. And the eyes of the monster
fastened on the figure of Fenwick as the doctor turned from the table,
the hypodermic in his hand.
"All right, Gaddon ..."
The voice of Fenwick trailed off. And Fred Trent stared at the face of
the monster. What he saw there brought a chill to his being. And he
heard the girl gasp from the far corner of the room, as her eyes too saw
the change that had spread over the face of the creature.
For there was no longer any vestige of human recognition in that face.
There was no longer any trace of the man who had been Gaddon. There was
only the monster now. The twisted, leering lips of an animal mind.
A harsh growl left those lips then and the creature moved forward toward
the surgeon.
Trent knew what was happening, and he knew what he must do. There was
death on that bestial face. Death that was reaching out ...
He heard the dim baying of the Great Dane from the rear of the house as
he leaped forward.
Then his fist lashed out and caught the animal face in a lashing blow.
His knuckles felt numb as he screamed:
"The hypodermic--doctor--quick!"
Then the creature turned on him and a long arm shot out. Trent felt a
claw rake across his face and felt the burning bite of that claw sink
into his flesh. Then, as he tried to dodge away from the beast and bring
his fist up again, the monster leaped at him and Trent felt a powerful
blow crash against his chin.
He spun back, falling to the floor, his head hitting the edge of an
examining table. His senses reeled and he felt the blood running down
his cheek, a warm, sticky stream that dripped to the floor.
He fought to keep his consciousness as he saw the beast turn away from
him, satisfied that he was out of the way. Then he saw it leap at the
stunned figure of Fenwick.
He heard the girl scream in terror and he saw Fenwick's arm come up with
the hypodermic. He saw the doctor try to bring the needle down in a jab,
but the monster's arm swept the needle aside and then a claw-like hand
gripped Fenwick's throat.
There was a gasp of terror from Fenwick's lips as those fingers closed
around his neck. Then the hypodermic fell from his nerveless hand and he
fought to break away.
A deep rumbling growl spat from the lips of the monster as it closed
with the struggling figure of Fenwick. Then the claws that were its
hands raked the surgeon's throat in a feline rage.
Trent watched with numbed eyes, fighting back the wave of blackness that
threatened to overcome him, and he saw the figure of Fenwick suddenly go
limp in the grip of the monster.
He saw a spurt of blood burst from the man's torn throat, and then the
creature dropped the limp body.
It fell to the floor, and a wave of red washed across the floor from the
mangled throat. The monster stood over the lifeless body, a triumphant
sound issuing from its twisted lips.
Then it turned toward the girl.
Trent tried to move. He tried to push back the weakness that numbed his
body. But he couldn't. His head swam with the pain of the blow he had
received, and he could only watch through half-closed eyes as the
monster reached out for the girl.
Joan Drake screamed once as the long arms reached out for her. Then her
voice ended abruptly as she fell to the floor in a faint.
The monster stood over her for a moment, then it reached down and picked
up her body in its blood splattered-arms.
It turned for a moment, holding the girl, and shot a hate-filled glance
at Trent's limp figure.
Then it moved swiftly across the room and out into the hall.
And the baying of the Great Dane sounded angrily in Fred Trent's ears ...
* * * * *
With a superhuman effort Fred Trent forced the numbness from his body
and moved slowly to his feet. A horror gripped him that brought a new
strength to his body, flooded it.
He stepped over the body of Fenwick, forcing his eyes away from the
grisly sight of it as he dashed to the hallway.
"Joan--_Joan_!"
The girl's name came hoarsely from his lips as he ran into the hall and
stared at the open door of the house. He ran to the door and out into
the night.
His eyes stared wildly into the darkness, searching the street. But he
saw nothing but his parked car at the curb. The monster had vanished.
And with him, the unconscious girl.
A hopeless despair welled up inside Trent at that moment. For he knew he
could never hope to find the creature now. And by the time help came it
would be too late. They would find Joan's mangled body ...
The baying of the Great Dane rang in his ears then. The huge dog's howls
of rage thundered in his ears and he heard the hound crash its great
body against the closed door at the end of the hall, striving to get
through.
And then a cry of hope left Trent's lips. He turned and ran back into
the house. He grabbed the long leash from its wall hook beside the rear
door and then he swung the door partway open.
"Brutus! Quiet, Brutus!"
The head of the Great Dane struggled through the partly opened door, a
snarl of rage welling from the huge dog's mouth as Trent shouted at it.
Then he slipped the leash into its metal ring around the neck of the dog
and pulled the door open.
The animal rushed into the hall, nearly tearing the leash from Fred
Trent's hands as it lunged forward.
The dog paused beside the open door of the consultation room where the
body of Fenwick lay dead and still on the floor. The animal lifted its
muzzle and sniffed the air. A howl of anguished rage left it then and
Trent knew that the dog sensed its master had been murdered. And then it
caught the scent of the monster, the thing that had caused its wild rage
to be unleashed, and it leaped forward, down the hall and out the front
door into the night.
Trent held the leash tightly in his hands, running behind the straining
dog, jumping over a low hedge after the animal as it headed down the
shadowed street to the edge of the city.
And then the last house was behind them and Trent was racing behind the
dog out into the desert land beyond.
* * * * *
His breath was an aching fire in his throat. His legs were numbed beyond
feeling. They were parts of his body that simply refused to stop moving,
though every nerve and muscle in them screamed in protest.
It seemed like he had been running for hours, half tripping, stumbling
across the darkened ground behind the seemingly tireless body of the
Great Dane.
They ran in near silence now. Only the sounds of their labored breathing
mingled with the night wind. The howls of rage no longer issued from the
throat of the huge dog. There was only its panting breath, and the
strain of its mighty body as it sought to tear loose from the man
holding it.
But Trent held grimly to the leash, running as fast as his numbed body
would go.
And he knew he could not go much further. That soon he would drop to the
ground in exhaustion. That his last reserve of energy was nearly spent.
And then his eyes peered through the darkness ahead and he saw a glow of
lights in the distance. And suddenly he knew those lights. And he became
aware of where they were racing toward.
It was the Rocket Proving Grounds!
And the fence of the government project loomed close ahead.
And as they neared the fence, Trent's eyes pierced the darkness and he
saw a jagged tear in the metal mesh of the fence. A tear that stood as
high as a man, a hole through which a man could have entered.
The Great Dane bounded toward that hole and Trent followed the dog
through it. He felt the animal pause momentarily and he nearly stumbled
over a body lying on the ground at his feet just inside the fence.
His heart stood still for a moment and the girl's name sped to his lips.
But he never uttered the word. For he suddenly saw that it was the body
of a guard. A body whose torn throat lay red and gory in death.
And then the Great Dane let a howl of anger out on the night wind, and
the beast leaped forward again, Trent running behind it.
And ahead of them, Trent saw a great looming shape in the darkness, and
as his eyes fell upon it, a despairing terror gripped him.
It was the second rocket! Standing in its cradle, silent in the night, a
shaft of metal that looked skyward.
And a realization of what the monster had in mind struck him. He knew
now where they were headed. He knew why the monster had torn the fence,
why a guard had been killed where he stood.
And as if the thought had been a prelude, he saw the rocket loom before
them as the Great Dane bounded around its base.
And he saw the metal stairway leading up to the middle of the giant
projectile.
And at the top of those stairs, going into the now open rocket chamber,
was the monster, holding the unconscious girl in its arms.
The Great Dane saw the creature in the same instant. And a terrible howl
of rage welled from its throat. It gave a lunge forward then that broke
Trent's grip from the leash he held. And the dog was free.
* * * * *
The monster turned in the same moment and saw them. A roar of feline
anger left its throat as the huge dog leaped up the steps toward the
platform above.
The monster dropped the girl's body on the narrow platform and backed
toward the opening of the rocket chamber.
Then the Great Dane reached the platform and poised itself for a leap.
Trent was dashing forward toward the stairs as the dog's body flew
through the air. He saw the flashing jaws of the animal snap at the
throat of the monster, as its heavy body smashed against it.
Then the arms of the creature were tearing at the dog as it was forced
back into the rocket chamber.
Trent's feet flew up the stairs, his breath a tortured gasp in his
throat. He saw the girl stir on the platform, as consciousness returned
to her.
"Joan!"
Her name sped from his lips as he reached the top step. Then his hands
closed around the girl's shoulders, lifting her to her feet.
The snarl of the Great Dane reached his ears from the rocket chamber,
and the answering roar of rage from the monster as they fought. His eyes
saw the vague, terrible shadows of them, heard the snapping jaws of the
dog, and the raking claws.
And then he was dragging the girl down the steps.