The Metallic Muse (24 page)

The others moved through the gate and left him talking to himself.

At the rear of the yard a sheet lay loosely over unnatural contours. “We took photographs, of course,” the commissioner said, “but it’s so incredible—we wanted you to see—”

The four men each took a corner, raised the sheet carefully, and moved it away. Allen caught his breath and stepped back a pace.

“We left—things—just as they were,” the commissioner said. “Except for the child that survived, of course. He was rushed—”

At Allen’s feet lay the head of a blonde, blue-eyed child. She was no more than six, a young beauty who doubtless had already caused romantic palpitations in the hearts of her male playmates.

But no longer. The head was severed cleanly just below the chin. The eyes were wide open, and on the face was a haunting expression of indescribable horror. A few scraps of clothing lay where her body should have been.

A short distance away were other scraps of clothing and two shoes. Allen winced as he noticed that one shoe contained a foot. The other was empty. He circled to the other side, where two more shoes lay. Both were empty. Hilks was kneeling by the pathetic little head.

“No bleeding?” Hilks asked.

“No bleeding,” Dr. Anderson said hoarsely. “If there had been, the other child—the one that survived—would have died. But the wounds were—cauterized, you might say, though I doubt that it’s the right word. Anyway, there wasn’t any bleeding.”

Dr. Hilks bent close to the severed head. “You mean heat was applied—”

“I didn’t say heat,” Dr. Anderson said testily.

“We figure it happened like this,” the commissioner said. “The three children were playing here in the yard. They were Sharon Brown, the eldest, and her little sister Ruth, who was three, and Johnnie Larkins, from next door. He’s five. The mothers were in the house, and no one would have thought anything could possibly happen to the kids.”

“The mothers didn’t hear anything?” Allen asked. The commissioner shook his head. “Strange they wouldn’t yell or scream or something.” “Perhaps they did. The carnival was making a powerful lot of noise, so the mothers didn’t hear anything.” “Carnival?”

The commissioner nodded at the tents.

“Oh,” Allen said, looking beyond the fence for the first time since he’d entered the yard. “So that’s what it is.”

“The kids were probably standing close together, playing something or maybe looking at something, and they didn’t see the—see it—coming. When they did see it they tried to scatter, but it was too late. The thing dropped on them and pinned them down. Sharon was completely covered except for her head. Ruth was covered except for one foot And Johnnie, maybe because he was the most active or maybe because he was standing apart a little, almost got away. His legs were covered, but only his knees. And then—the thing ate them.”

Allen shuddered in spite of himself. “Ate them? Bones and all?”

“That’s the wrong word,” Dr. Anderson said. “I would say—absorbed them.”

“It seems to have absorbed most of their clothing, too,” Allen said. “Also, Sharon’s shoes.”

The commissioner shook his head. “No. No shoes. Sharon wasn’t wearing any, and it left the others’ shoes. Well, this is what the mothers found when they came out. They’re both in bad shape, and I doubt that Mrs. Brown will ever be the same again. We don’t know yet whether Johnnie Larkins will recover. We don’t know what the after-effects might be when something like that eats part of you.”

Allen turned to Hilks. “Any ideas?”

“I’d like to know a little more about this thing. Did anyone catch a glimpse of it?”

“Probably a couple of thousand people around here have seen it,” the commissioner said. “Now we’ll go talk to Bronsky.”

“Who’s Bronsky?” Allen asked.

“He’s the guy that owned it”

They left Dr. Anderson at the scene of the tragedy to supervise whatever was to be done with the pathetic remains. The commissioner led the way through a rear gate and across the meadow to the tents.

Above the entrance a fluttering streamer read, JOLLY BROTHERS SHOWS. They entered, with Hilks mopping his perspiring face and complaining about the heat, Allen looking about alertly, and the others walking ahead in silence.

Allen turned his attention first to the strange apparatus that stood in the broad avenue between the tents. He saw miniature rocket ships, miniature planes, miniature ground cars, and devices too devious in appearance to identify, but he quickly puzzled out the fact that a carnival was a kind of traveling amusement park.

Hilks had paused to look at a poster featuring a row of scantily clad young ladies. “They look cool,” he muttered, mopping his face again.

Allen took his arm and pulled him along. “They’re also of unmistakable terrestrial origin. We’re looking for a monster from outer space.”

“This place is something right out of the twentieth century,” Hilks said. “If not the nineteenth. Ever see one before?”

“No, but I’ve seen stuff like this in amusement parks. I guess a carnival just moves it around.”

Sheriff Townsend spoke over his shoulder. “This carnival has been coming here every year for as long as I can remember.”

They passed a tent that bore the flaming title, EXOTIC WONDERS OF THE UNIVERSE. The illustrations were lavishly colored and immodestly exaggerated. A gigantic flower that Allen recognized as vaguely resembling a Venusian Meat-Eater was holding a struggling rodent in its fangs. A vine, also from Venus, was in hot pursuit of a frantic young lady it had presumably surprised in the act of dressing. The plants illustrated were all Venusian, Allen thought though the poster mentioned lichens from Mars and a Luna Vacuum Flower.

“That isn’t the place,” the commissioner said. “There isn’t anything in there but plants and rocks.”

“I’d like to take a look,” Allen said. He raised the tent flap. In the dim light he could see long rows of plastic display cases, each tagged with the bright yellow import permit of Terran Customs.

“I’ll take another look later, but things seem to be in proper order,” he said.

They moved on and stopped in front of the most startling picture Allen had ever seen. A girl arose genie-like from the yawning opening of an enormous shell. Her shapely body was—perhaps—human. Tentacles intertwined nervously where her hair should have been. Her hands were webbed claws, her facial expression the rigid, staring look of a lunatic, and her torso tapered away into the sinister darkness of the shell’s interior.

“This is it,” the commissioner said.

“This?” Allen echoed doubtfully.

“That’s one of the things it did in the act.”

Hilks had been staring intently at the poster. Suddenly he giggled. “Know what that looks like? There was an old painting by one of those early Italians. Da Vinci, maybe.

Or Botticelli. I think it was Botticelli. It was called ‘The Birth of Venus,’ and it had a dame standing on a shell in just about that posture—except that the dame was human and not bad-looking. I wonder what happened to it. Maybe it went up with the old Louvre. I’ve seen reproductions of it. I may have one at home.”

“I doubt that it has much bearing on our present problem,” the commissioner said dryly.

Hilks slapped his thigh. “Allen! Some dratted artist has a fiendish sense of humor. I’ll give you odds this thing comes from Venus. It’ll have to. And the painting was called, ‘The Birth of Venus.’ From heavenly beauty to Earthly horror. Pretty good, eh?”

“If you don’t mind—” the commissioner said.

They followed him into the tent. Allen caught a passing glimpse of a sign that read, “Elmer, the Giant Snail. The World’s Greatest Mimic.” There was more, but he didn’t bother to read it. He figured that he was too late for the show.

Bronsky was a heavy-set man of medium height, with a high forehead that merged with the gleaming dome of his bald head. His eyes were piercing, angry. At the same time he seemed frightened.

“Elmer didn’t do it!” he shouted.

“So you say,” the commissioner said. “This is Chief-Inspector Allen. And Dr. Hilks. Tell them about it.” Bronsky eyed them sullenly.

“Do you have a photograph of Elmer?” Allen asked.

Bronsky nodded and disappeared through a curtain at the rear of the tent. Allen nudged Hilks, and they walked together toward the curtain. Behind it was a roped-off platform six feet high. On the platform was a shallow metal tank. The tank was empty.

“Where Elmer performed, no doubt,” Allen said.

“Sorry I missed him,” Hilks said. “I use the masculine gender only as a courtesy due the name. We humans tend to take sex for granted, even in lower life forms, and we shouldn’t.”

Bronsky returned and handed Allen an envelope. “I just had these printed up,” he said. “I think I’ll make a nice profit selling them after the act.”

“If I were you,” Allen said, “I’d go slow about stocking up.”

“Aw—Elmer wouldn’t hurt nobody. I’ve had him almost three years, and if he’d wanted to eat somebody he’d of started on me, wouldn’t he? Anyway, he won’t even eat meat unless it’s ground up pretty fine, and he don’t care much for it then. He’s mostly a vegetarian.”

Allen took out the glossy prints and passed the top one to Hilks.

“Looks a little like a giant conch shell,” Hilks said. “It’s much larger, of course. What did it weigh?” “Three fifty,” Bronsky said.

“I would have thought more than that. Has it grown any since you got him?” Bronsky shook his head. “I figure he’s full grown.” “He came from Venus?” Bronsky nodded.

“I don’t recall any customs listing of a creature like this.”

Allen was studying the second print. It resembled— vaguely—the painting on the poster. The shell was there, as in the first photo, and protruding out of it was the caricature of a shapely Venus. The outline was hazy but recognizable.

The other photos showed other caricatures—an old bearded man with a pipe, an elephant’s head, an entwining winged snake, a miniature rocket ship—all rising out of the cavernous opening.

“How do you do it?” Hilks asked.

“I don’t do it,” Bronsky said. “Elmer does it.”

“Do you mean to say your act is genuine? That the snail actually forms these images?”

“Sure. Elmer loves to do it. He’s just a big ham. Show him anyone or anything, and the first thing you know he’s looking just like that. If you were to walk up to him, he’d think it over for a few seconds and then he’d come out looking pretty much like you. It’s kind of like seeing yourself in a blurred mirror. I use that to close my act—I get some guy up on the stage and Elmer makes a pretty good reproduction of him. The audience loves it.”

Hilks tapped the photo of the distorted Venus. “You didn’t find a live model for that.”

“Oh, no,” Bronsky said. “Not for any of my regular acts. I got a young artist fellow to make some animated film strips for me. I project them onto a screen above the stage. The audience can’t see it, but Elmer can. He makes a real good reproduction of that one—the snake hair twists around and the hands make clawing motions at the audience. It goes over big.”

“I’ll bet,” Hilks said. “What does Elmer use for eyes?”

“I don’t know. I’ve wondered about that myself. I’ve never been able to find any, but he sees better than I do.”

“Is it a water creature or a land creature?”

“It doesn’t seem to make much difference to him,” Bronsky said. “I didn’t keep him in water because it’d be hard to tote a big tank of water around. He drank a lot, though.”

Hilks nodded and called the commissioner over, “Here’s how I see it. Superficially, Elmer resembles some of the terrestrial univalve marine shells. That’s undoubtedly deceptive. Life developed along different lines on Venus, and up until now we’ve found no similarity whatsoever between Terran and Venusian species. That doesn’t mean that accidental similarities can’t exist. Some of the Terran carnivores produce an acid that etches holes in the shells of the species they prey on. Then there’s the common starfish, which paralyzes its victim with acid and then extrudes its stomach outside its body, wraps it around the victim, and digests it. Something like that must have happened to the kids. An acid is the only explanation for the effect of cauterization, and the way their bodies were—absorbed, the doctor said, a very good word—means that the digestive agent has a terrifying corrosive potency. The only puzzling thing about it is how this creature could move fast enough to get clear of the tent and all the way over to that house and surprise three agile children. Frankly, I don’t understand how it was able to move at all, but it happened, and it isn’t a pleasant thing to think about.”

“How did Elmer get away?” Allen asked Bronsky.

“I don’t know. We’d just finished a show, and I closed the curtains and saw the people out of the tent, and then I went back to the stage and he was gone, I didn’t know he could move around. He never tried before.”

“No one saw him after that?” Allen asked the commissioner.

The commissioner shook his head.

“May I see Elmer’s license?” Allen asked Bronsky.

Bronsky stared at him. “Elmer don’t need no license!”

Allen said wearily, “Section seven, paragraph nine of the Terran Customs Code, now ratified by all world governments. Any extraterrestrial life form brought to this planet must be examined by Terran Customs, certified harmless, and licensed. Terran Customs may, at its discretion, place any restrictions it deems necessary upon the custody or use of such life. Did Elmer pass Terran Customs?”

Bronsky brightened. “Oh. Sure. This guy I bought Elmer from, he said all that stuff was taken care of and I wouldn’t have any trouble.”

“Who was he?”

“Fellow named Smith. I ran into him in a bar in San Diego. Told him I was in show business, and he said he had the best show on Earth in his warehouse. He offered to show it to me, and I walked into this room where there wasn’t nothing but a big shell, and the next thing I knew I was looking at myself. I knew it was a natural. He wanted twenty-five grand, which was all the money I had, and I wrote him a check right on the spot. The very next day Elmer and I were in business, and we did well right from the start. As soon as I got enough money together to have the film strips made we did even better. I got a receipt from this guy Smith, and he certified that the twenty-five grand included all customs fees. It’s in a deposit box in Phoenix.”