Zombies Of The Stratosphere - Chapter 4 (complete)

The Legions of Tomorrow, "A Count Dracula Story."

                    The Legions of Tomorrow

His swarthy complexion always confused anyone who first met him, as they always assumed that the undead were...undead looking. He would take their stares with good grace and let them off easy with the words..."I do not drink...blood!" A direct contradiction to those who had seen the once famous Bela Lugosi movies that had been perpetrated on the masses to scare and frighten them. The aging actor had been a distant cousin of the Count and had to apologize to him for the bad press, but he needed the work at the time and the Count had encouraged him to take the work. He didn't care about superstitious people's beliefs. Everyone knew there were good and bad in anything, good wolves bad, bad wolves; good vampires, bad vampires; ghosts that meant well, ghosts that had no such intention of every doing anything well for anyone. Demons who rocked the foundations of the earth to destroy it and demons who were working on getting their angel wings. 

So what others believed...he really didn't care or mind. Take  your pick. Had he been featured in a vampire movie, he would be more like that famous Latin actor who had made Dracula a dancing hero. He also loved to dance, thought at this particular moment, as he hung upside down from his bedroom beam, thinking about what he had in store for the morrow, he had no particular juice on any kind of dancing, except dancing to the bathroom as soon as possible. He had drunk a lot of blueberry wine the last night and his bladders...yes, he had two...his bladders, as strong as they were were screaming to be emptied.

So he dropped from the beam, flipping over nimbly midflight, and landed lightly on his feet. He yawned, then stretched and stumbled. Yes, even vampires wake up slowly and sluggishly. He stumbled into the lavatory to relieve his bladders. His eyes felt like they were going to pop until he was able to empty them. So many there was some truth to the eyes floating in...well, you know.

He took out his favorite razor, lathered it with a fine soap he had imported from the India Isles, and began drawing it delicately across his chin, then throat, until the fine mist of hair he was growing had been mown down like a savage forest trying to overtake a city.

He yawned again, revealing his two largish front incisors, which had given him and his father their legendary appearance in most modern horror tales of fanged monsters. The fangs could indeed suck blood through them, but never by force, always by free will. They never took what wasn't freely offered, and many friends would offer them a drink in exchange for the favors done for them, not because the Count or his father demanded them, but as a showing of appreciation and gratitude.

"Now what?" He thought as the huge bat knocker on his front door clanged loudly, making a shrieking noise up and down the hallways of his two story mansion. He smiled. Any guests were always startled by the joke he had installed, but after another visit or two caught onto his sense of humor and came to appreciate it.

He leaped from the second floor landing to the floor below, ignoring the beautifully carpeted steps and opened the front door. His good friend, and servant, Charlie Fritz, was not in the house at that time. He had been given leave and a good sum of money to fly back to Rome in one of the new fangled Tesla dirigibles to stay with his family for a month. The Count was not afraid of a little housework and since he only needed a few hours a night or day to refresh himself, he never had too little time to take care of the details of  household chores.

"Ah!" He said as he looked at Sherlock, resplendent in a tux with Watson next to him, and James Moriarity, their mutual friend.

"Come in! Come in!" He said, motioning them inside. He glanced outside. It was a full moon. He expected more guests and one in particular.

"I've had the table prepared since this morning for our repast. I hope you don't mind Charlie not being here. I shall happily serve you just as well. Or at least as well as I am capable."

Sherlock smiled. "It is not the service we have come to visit, my dear Count."

He stepped inside, throw his over cloak onto a hanger by the door, allowing Watson to do the same and they headed into the dining room. 

"Good doctor, how's your fiancée?"

"Marvelous. She sends her regrets for not coming, but was struck by one of those obnoxious colds that strike this time of year. I prescribed some sleeping potion to help her rest. By this time she should be comfortably between her sheets and covers and resting well."

"Very good. This way." The Count said, guiding them the rest of the way into the dining room. Inside was a very large table that shone like glass with settings for twelve.

"When will the others be coming?" Sherlock asked, seating himself at the near end of the table.

Watson sat on the corner near him and looked at the Count.

"I would imagine they'll all trickle in as usual."

The door bat slammed home again, sending shrieks through the home.

"Excuse me. I think we have more guests."

He went to the door and let in Lord Graystone and Lady Shareen, who were followed by Professor Challenger and Conan.

"Harry's on his way with Tesla and Edison." Conan explained as he and Challenger set their hats and cloaks on the hanger by the door.

"Very good." The Count said, then led them into the dining room.

He began bringing out food and drink for everyone, who all insisted that he wait for the others, but he insisted he had more than enough for everyone several times over and they shouldn't wait for one more minute.

Watson and Challenger tucked in immediately, their bellies almost screaming for food, they were such stout men.

James went into the kitchen with the Count and helped him bring more food out.

"You look good, James. The sea life must have agreed with you."

"Very much so."

He helped the Count set out the last of the food and drink as the Count went to answer the next shriek of the Bat ringer.

Tesla, Harry and Edison came in chatting up a storm.

Everyone sat down and after hurried greetings began eating.

Sherlock looked up. "We're missing a guest."

The Count looked at the empty chair. "I suspect there's a good reason."

A loud bang came from the door.

The Count smiled. "I think our guest has arrived."

He sniffed the air, then smiled.

He went to the door and opened it. Larry was there, his hat in hand. "I hope I didn't keep you. The moon has made me miserable. It's almost full."

"Don't worry, I have a nice room for you to stay in if you want to wait for the moon to pass."

"Thank you, Count. You're a great host. As always."

After everyone had eaten to their heart's content, the Count rose and held up his glass. "A toast to our brotherhood. To each other, our friends, and to those whom we serve."

"Here, here!" They all joined and drank their toasts.

They set down their glasses and looked at him expectantly.

"The reason why I've invited you all here this evening is not only for the companionship we all enjoy and share with each other, but to give you warning."

Sherlock tensed for a moment, then relaxed.

"Warning?"Challenger demanded.

Conan cocked an eye on the Count.

"About what?"

Watson shook his head. "Always something to sour the milk, isn't there Holmes."

James leaned over and whispered into Watson's ear. "No one drinks milk here."

"I do." Watson declared.

Everyone broke into laughter.

The Count waited for the laughter to subside, then spoke again. "We all know that the Hollow Man for quite some time now has been amassing an army."

Lord Greystone nodded. "I spotted some of his forces on my last patrol of the Isles of the Behemoth."

"Aye." James agreed. "Captain Nemo has spotted them as well."

"The Count nodded, then eyed his friends.

"My warning is the Legions of Tomorrow are on their way!"

The room became deathly silent.

"Have Wells and Verne confirmed this?"Sherlock demanded.

"Yes. And it's a very real threat. But that threat is still some time away. For tonight..." He said, raising his glass again in a toast. "Let us rejoice in our friendship and pray that we can continue to protect the innocent from the hordes that surely will soon be storming our gates."

"Here, here!" Everyone said and joined in the new toast.

Their jollity filled the ancient hallways of Count Dracula's home, but coming nearer and more near were the hordes. The Legions of Tomorrow, who had a more deadly agenda in mind.

Zombies Of The Stratosphere - Chapter 3

The Sorcerer's Apprentice Not "A Young King Arthur Story"

The Sorcerer's Apprentice Not

"A Young King Arthur Story"

Arthur looked at the huge log pail that Merlin had built from a fallen tree trunk and the soap water within it, then he looked at the huge cave floor that stretched for yards and yards in all directions. Then he thought about the huge backrooms and the entrance, and the lower levels and the upper levels. Well, you get the idea. He did a lot of thinking. He had become immobilized.

Toe Troll, a pet he had picked up quite by accident at Givers Creek as he was crossing its rope bridge, popped his tiny head up from behind the pail, and clambered to its top. He sniffed the air, made a happy sigh, then dove into the water.

"Oh no!" Arthur cried out and ran to retrieve his little friend.

Toe Troll popped to the surface, blowing bubbles that he poked and popped as they blew from his tiny mouth.

Arthur scooped him up and shook a finger at him. "I was supposed to  use that water to clean the floors."

Toe Troll gave Arthur an "I'm Sorry" look, then dove back from his hands into the pail of soapy water again. This time he began stroking around the edges of the water, singing a tiny song he had made up as he swam. "Toe ho, toe ho, it's in the bucket we go. Ho-ho-ho-ho. In the bucket we go."

Arthur shook his head and laughed. "You're so silly, Toe."

Toe clasped the pail's edge and pulled himself up to the top of it, then reached his arms up. Arthur caught him by the back of his tiny jerkin and set him in his right shirt pocket, next to the soap and sugar.

Toe looked at the sugar, rolled his eyes with pleasure and reached for some.

"That's for Dandelion, Toe. She'd be miserable if I didn't bring her some."

Toe sighed. 

Arthur took pity on him and set him down on the table he and Merlin always ate on and took some of the sugar and spread it there.

Toe let out a whoop of approval and began licking it up.

Arthur laughed again, then turned to eye the job Merlin had left for him.

"If I had magic, this would be a piece of cake. Or bread at the worst." He kidded himself.

Then his eyes caught a flickering at the right of his side. He turned and sure enough it was Merlin's spare wand, making itself known. Merlin claimed it had a mind of its own and that it only did the magic it wanted to do, much like Arthur when it came time to doing his chores.

Arthur laughed yet again. Maybe there was hope for this day yet.

He'd seen Merlin use his wand enough times to know how they worked now, so he strode to the corner where the wand was dancing for attention and clasped it from the notch holder it had been stuck within.

The wand squirmed eagerly in his hands.

Arthur gave it a suspicious look.

"You're not trying to trick me, are you?"

The wand shook its top from side to side. It really did understand him, Arthur thought to himself. Or did it? He'd test it.

"Okay. If you understand what I'm saying, make a lump of sugar for Toe."

The wand nodded, then gestured with its leafy hands...Merlin always grew his wands from tree limbs he planted himself. It gestured with its leafy hands and a sparkle of white glittering light lumped in front of Toe, who burst into applause, then eagerly began digging into the extra sugar.

"Ohhhh kay." Arthur muttered, still not convinced.

The wand made a gesture of impatience.

"Refill my pail of soapy water with fresh soap and water."

The wand gestured at the pail and it sprouted legs and hiked from the cave's main room, which was also its kitchen and sleeping area, and then marched from the cave to fetch more water. Or at least that's what Arthur hoped it was doing.

Arthur sat down at the table and watched Toe eat at the sugar lump, his tiny eyes swirling with pleasure. They were black with flecks of yellow iridescence within them, so they appeared to glow, even in the daytime.

Arthur's eyelids were starting to grow heavy from waiting when the pail walked back inside with fresh water and soap inside it.

Arthur sighed with relief.

"You know." He said to himself. "Maybe instead of being a knight, I should become a wizard like Merlin."

He grabbed the wand and pointed it at the bucket. "Wash all the floors of this cave until they sparkle like the sun."

Arthur waited. Nothing happened. He pointed the wand again. "Wash all the floors of this cave until they sparkle like the sun."

This time the pail sprouted a pair of arms and hands and began sloshing water onto the floor and scrubbing it. In a matter of minutes it had cleaned the main room and was beginning on the rooms connected to it.

Arthur yawned. "Maybe a little nap until it's done won't hurt. Merlin won't be back until nightfall anyway."

Arthur went to his small cot near the stove and laid on it, closing his eyes.

"Yeah. Maybe I won't be a knight after all."

He found himself drifting off into a dream where he was taking a bath in the cave and it was filled with so much water he could swim throughout it. The water was soapy and he was blowing huge bubbles everywhere. The water was warm and pleasant and kept getting deeper, which didn't alarm him at first, until he realized he couldn't swim back out, the water had shut all the exits.

"Help!" Arthur cried out. He realized he couldn't swim forever and he was growing more and more tired. More and more weak."

The water continued to rise and soon it was up to his nose and the ceiling of the cave was a mere few inches away from his noses. "What a miserable Sorceror's Apprentice I am!" He cried out in misery.

"Arthur!" Merlin's voice boomed at him.

"I can't hear you, I'm drowning." Arthur replied.

He felt a strong hand shake him and he opened his eyes to realize that he had been dreaming. He stood up quickly and examined the cave floor. It was not wet anywhere. He looked to his right.

Merlin held up the second wand. "I found it wandering around outside with the pail of water."

Arthur gave Merlin a contrite look. "I..."

Merlin sat Arthur down. "You have far greater things to do with your life than the humble work of a magician."

"But I want to be like you, Merlin, when I grow up!" Arthur protested.

Merlin smiled. "You are more like me now than you could ever possibly imagine."

And with those words of encouragement and the rest of his nap, Arthur took the pail and began doing the work he had been putting off. And you know what. He wasn't tired when he had finished. He even had enough energy to go swimming in the moonlight at the pond, with Toe on his head and Merlin playing a flute.

No, he was a Sorceror's Apprentice not. But he was a happy young teen.

Added Pinterest section to main menu

To make it a little more fun, I've added a Pinterest section to my blog. It's at the far right on the main menu.

On that page I've posted my pages for "Journey to the Center of the Earth," and "Baker Street Adventures."

The pages are loaded with all kinds of extra information, research and comments by me.

The Case of the White Phosphor "A Sherlock Holmes Mystery"

The Geldings Residence sat alone in a street of mainly shop keepers, a lone and ancient structure that had been inherited from generations of Geldings, starting from the days of King Cornish to the current Queen Mary of Scots. Not a lovely place. But a forbidding one, it sprung from the street like a malignant tumor against all the more brightly lit and clean businesses that hugged its right and left sides, and faced it from the Manly Park opposite it.

It had always been a queer neighborhood. Rumors of vampires, werewolves, changelings, black magic and dark sorcerers had abounded there from the times of King Cornish. Some even rumored it to be back from the times of King Arthur, when he and Merlin established their brief empire of Light and the round table of equality run by the most educated and noble Knights of the times.

Therefore it came as no surprise that one day the ancient structure should catch on fire and immediately burn to the ground, impacting business on both sides as firemen from the length and breadth of London strove to put out the scorching flames before all the good nearby businesses were leveled to the ground as well. The fire burned so hot that the firemen were forced to stand at least a hundred feet away to blast their water upon it.

McBride and McBride, fabled inventors of the Golden Ruby, a special hand watch that could accurately keep track of time no matter what time zone, were very bitter that Monday morning, as they rushed to their place of business to see it in flames as well as the dark and malignant mansion nearby.

"Serves them right!" Father McBride told his twenty year old partner and son, Fable McBride, a good lad with blonde hair and stark blue eyes that looked into your very soul. Or at least that's what people told him. Often. And repeatedly.

Fable shook his head, tossing his mane of shoulder length locks and curls about his broad shoulders. "We can rebuild."

His father sighed. "Yes. But will I still be alive to see the business thrive once more?"

His son was silent.

"Excuse me, kind sir." Watson asked from two gentlemen away. "Am I right to assume that you two are related to the fire here this morning?"

"Not related, but victimized." Father McBride corrected.

Watson stepped around the two gawkers of the crowd that had been building to watch the death and destruction of the old mansion, and took his hat off. "I'm deeply sorry for your loss. You are then Father McBride?"

"How would you know that, sir?"

Watson indicated the briefcase in Father McBride's hands, and the label upon it.

"Oh. Yes. Rather silly of me to question you on that, wasn't it? How can I help you then?"

"My friend and I..." He indicated Sherlock Holmes who stood closer to the fire, his eyes on something only he was aware of. "Mister Holmes..."

"Not the...Mister Holmes!" Fable exclaimed, reaching out his hand to take Watson's. "I read your articles in the London Blast every day. Fascinating. Brilliant. You are admired by every school child and young woman and man in the Greater Britains."

Watson flushed with embarrassment at the comment and looked away to hide his red face. "I've been told that you two knew the deceased."

Father McBride gave Watson another look of astonishment. "But how could you know..."

Fable nudged him. "No one could have survived that fire, Father."

"Right. Yes. So sorry. I'm just testy because of the damage to our reputation."

Watson turned to look at him again, his embarrassment under control once more. "Before we were summoned here by Inspector Bloodstone, he mentioned that you two had been having some...uh...difficulties with the Elder Gelding?"

"Yes. The man kept an inordinate number of bats in his basement, and they would fly out at night and attack our dear Nellie."

Fable jumped in. "A sheep dog. My father got him as a gift from me Mummy."

Father McBride corrected him. "Your mother!"

"Yes. That's right, Me...My Mother."

Watson almost laughed, but restrained himself at this minor infraction on the father's part against his son. It wasn't uncommon for the richer gentry to be very precise about their language as a way of showing off their wealth and considerations.

"I see." Watson spoke finally.

"Can you tell me how your dog fares now, Mister McBride?" Sherlock said as he stepped between the father and son to look into his face.

"Oh."

Sherlock waited, saying nothing.

"She is quite happy." Father McBride answered a bit too quickly.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed. 

Inspector Bloodstone, his short red hair flaring a bit from rushing to the crime scene, or perhaps not a crime scene. That was yet to be determined. He came up and nodded to the father and son. "You remember our earlier conversation?"

"Yes." Father McBride responded. "You had two gentlemen looking into the bats issue to see if a mutually agreeable solution could be found."

"It would appear a solution has been found, though not beneficial to either your, the Geldings, or the other business scored by this unfortunate incident."

Sherlock spoke again, more slowly. "Did you have any relationship with the Goodfellows, who owned the other shop?"

"We spoke sometimes when passing." Father McBride answered politely.

Fable jumped in. "Merilee Goodfellow and I are dating."

His father glared at him. "A bad relationship it is too."

"You do not approve of the daughter?" Sherlock inquired.

"No, I think she is fine, but the father is a dark sort, and I'm afraid his nature rubs off on his daughter as well, though why my son can't see that, I don't know."

"I see. Then you won't mind us speaking to them about this incident?"

"Why should I mind? It's a free London."

Sherlock nodded, then as the last of the flames were smothered by water and began settling down; he proceeded with Inspector Bloodstone to the ruins to inspect them. On the way he stopped to look back at Father McBride, who was watching him closely, but quickly looked away when seen doing so.

Watson took out a small notebook, with hurried notes in it. "How long have you known the Geldings?"

"Never. Never saw them. Never spoke to them, except through a Legal Counsel who applied the letter of law upon them for the bats."

"And Nellie, your sheepdog. Have you made a claim for her death?"

Father McBride blanched the color of a ghost. "How in the devil did you know that, sir?"

Sherlock and Inspector Bloodstone stooped in the smoking rubble and dug something up with their hands, then slowly lifted it into view. They came waking back towards Watson and the McBride's.

They set the object down on the cobblestone street in front of the pair.

Sherlock eyed the father. "You said your sheep dog was fine, am I correct?"

"Yes. Indubitably."

Inspector Bloodstone dropped back to the left on Sherlock's slight eye movement and kept an intent stance as Sherlock continued.

"Please examine the tags on this dog's neck."

"My God! The poor creature. Caught in that horrible place!" Father McBride gasped, then dropped to a knee and examined the tags. His face drained of all color as he slowly rose.

"Inspector." Sherlock spoke.

Inspector Bloodstone pulled out a pair of handcuffs from his jacket pocket and approached the father.

Fable tried to stop him.

"Son. Will you interfere with the arrest of a man for the murder of an entire family?"

Fable began to shake with fear and anxiety and dropped back, making short intakes of air, sounding like he might be ready to faint.

Sherlock nodded to Watson who attended to Fable, leading him towards a nearby constable wagon.

"Mister McBride, you are under arrest for the murder of Elmer, Aimee and Louis Gelding."

Father McBride put his hands out and they were handcuffed.

He looked back at Sherlock before he was led away.

"How could you know I set the fire?"

Sherlock raised a fingertip with a white substance on it. "Phosphor."

"Phosphor?"

"Your firm is well known for using phosphor in large quantities to apply the extreme heat needed for your construction of the most excellent time pieces you manufacture."

"Everyone knows that." Father McBride protested.

"This dog did not die of the fire." Sherlock noted.

"What!"

"No, it died from a severe beating. Its skull was split in three different places."

Sherlock walked closer to Father McBride.

"Mister Gelding caught you beating your beloved dog to death and threatened to expose you to the world as a man who hurts innocent creatures, thus tarnishing your reputation and that of your shop."

Fable, who had been struggling with the indictment of his father, spoke up, his voice weak and trembling. "Father. You told me that Mister Gelding killed the dog."

The Inspector gave the son a look of surprise.

Sherlock turned to the Inspector. "I think that you will find that it was the father, who ordered the burning of the mansion, but it was his son who delivered the deadly white phosphorous through the basement windows, knowing full well how deadly and highly inflammable it was."

The Inspector scowled at the son, who know hid his face in his hands and began to weep. 

The Inspector nodded to a nearby constable who took the son in tow. They marched the McBrides off to the constable wagon.

Watson sighed. "So many lives ruined over an animal."

Sherlock turned to Watson. "Which animal do you refer to, Watson? The dog or the father?" Without another word he stuck his hands behind his back and strode off, leaving a shocked Watson behind him.

Zombies Of The Stratosphere - Chapter Two (complete)

Zombies of the Stratosphere is a 1952 black-and-white Republic Studios serial that was intended to be their second featuring "new hero"Commando Cody and the third 12-chapter serial featuring the rocket-powered flying jacket and helmet introduced in King of the Rocket Men(1949). Instead, for reasons unknown, the hero was renamed "Larry Martin," who must prevent Martian invaders from using a hydrogen bomb to blow Earth out of its orbit, away from the Sun, so that Mars can take its position. As in Radar Men from the Moon (also released in 1952), most of the screen time for each of the dozen chapters is spent on fistfights and car chases between the heroes and a gang of crooks hired by Narab and his extraterrestrial colleague Marex to steal and stockpile the Atomic supplies needed for construction of the H-bomb.

The serial was directed director by Fred C. Brannon, with a screenplay by Ronald Davidson, and the special effects by Republic's Lydecker brothers. The serial is remembered today as one of the first screen appearances of a young Leonard Nimoy, who plays one of the three Martian invaders, Narab. In 1958, a feature film version of this serial, retitled Satan's Satellites, was made by editing down the serial's footage to feature film length.