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Zombies of the Stratosphere Chapter Six

The Visibility Factor, "A The Invisible Man Story."

  The Visibility Factor

                                                    “An Invisible Man Story” 

                                                                           John Pirillo

“So.” He told them as he poured a jar of grape juice into a lucent jar of crystal clear water. The students arrayed in the tiered clusters of choir seats leaned forward with interest, as the clear water became a deep purple color.

Professor Langdon’s eye crinkled with good humor as he turned to look at his rapt students. “As you can see what was once transparent and clear is now…”

A student raised his hand. A young man with a mop of red hair and plenty of freckles beneath it.

“Yes, Mister McCannon.”

“I’m not sure I understand the nature of this experiment.”

“You will.”

Professor Langdon raised a new beaker of liquid, which was even murkier than the grape juice to pour into the jar. He poured it slowly. As he did so, the murky grape juice waters became not more opaque, but less, until the water was crystal clear again.

The class broke into applause.

“Now.” Professor Langdon said, after turning back to his rapt audience. “Can anyone tell me what has just happened?”

A girl raised her hand. “You’ve made the grape juice invisible.”

Professor Langdon clapped his hands in applause for her statement. “Very good, Miss Dearling. Very good, indeed.”

A bell sounded.

The students remained seated attentively.

Professor Langdon smiled. “Tomorrow, I want you each to bring what you think just happened in the form of a formula. That will be all.”

The class erupted in a flow of movement away from the cramped seating, until the students had all evacuated except for Mister McCannon and Miss Dearling.

They looked at each other expectantly.

“Go on.” Mister McCannon told the girl.

“Professor Langdon, this is remarkable. With the formula to this you could make anything invisible. Even a human!”

“A human.” Mister McCannon joined in. “I’d like to volunteer!”

Professor Langdon gave him a sad smile. “Being invisible isn’t everything it’s cracked up to be.”

They gave him blank looks.

“Think of this. You get up in the morning to shave. How?”

“With a razor, sir.” Mister McCannon explained.

“And what would happen if you missed your face and cut your nose off instead?”

“You could learn to feel your face by touch. Besides, Professor, you could turn visible anytime you wanted.”

“What if…a supposition, of course, you could not return to visibility?”

Mister McCannon blanched. “I hadn’t thought about that, Professor.”

“Exactly.”

Professor Langdon closed his paperwork on the podium he had been speaking from and examined the faces watching him. ‘On Monday you will bring an essay that will cover two aspects of invisibility. 

“Number One, how might one deal with the visibility factor, if one were able to turn invisible.

“Number two, what would be the consequences of having that kind of power if you misused it?

“That’ll be all. Class excused.”

Everyone departed except for Mister McCannon and Miss Dearling.”

Professor Langdon looked up from a note he was scribbling as reminder to himself and saw them. “May I help you?”

“Uh.” Mister Cannon looked to Miss Dearling, who looked back at him.”

“Show him.” She said.

“Show me what, Mister Cannon?”

Shyly, the student began to pull up his starched white shirt. As he did so, nothing was visible.

Mister Cannon looked to Miss Dearling and she shoved the sleeve of her starched white blouse 

upwards, and as she did the elbow of her right arm faded away, revealing no upper arm.”

“I see.” Professor Langdon finally said after he took in for a moment what was revealed. 

“Come with me.” He ordered and they followed, rearranging their shirt and blouse to hide the missing parts.

They followed him down a flight of steps in the classroom to a door marked exit. He opened it and led them down another flight of stairs into his office. They were stunned to see is so barren. Only a minimal desk and chair and some paperwork. He smiled at their surprise, and then pressed a panel on the back wall. 

They both gasped as the wall began to slide upwards.

He gestured them to enter and closed the wall behind him.

As they entered he said. “Welcome to my world.”

The young adults were stunned. There were dogs with half a visible body, bats with only wings and eyes, bowls of goldfish with only their tails visible.

“Professor Langdon! This is utterly remarkable!” Mister Cannon said.

They both turned to look at him and he was nowhere to be seen. Then they saw a chair scoot away from a desk and a pencil and pad rise from it.

“Once you learn how to manage your gift, you will be able to make anything visible or invisible.” He told them with pride.

“The Visibility Factor.” Miss Dearling gasped.

“Yes. I have solved it for myself.” Professor Langdon replied as he dissolved back into view, a huge smile on his face. “And given the time and diligence, I can help you two as well.”

Both the young adults looked as if Santa had just visited them. Both had tears in their eyes as they nodded. There was hope after all.

Zombies of the Stratosphere Chapter Five

Sour Grapes for Atlantis, "A Professor Challenger Story."

When I first read The Lost World by by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle I was mentally stunned. It was so old fashioned, yet so marvelous in its excitement and concepts. As a child I had been introduced to a much larger world and a more frightening one, though these days I have come to find many of our real world situations much more scary by far.

 

Enjoy Professor Challenger from my Baker Street Universe series as he explores with Sir Arthur Conan Doyle himself!

--Best to everyone, John--

==============================================

  

                      Sour Grapes for Atlantis

            "A Professor Challenger Story."

    John Pirillo

Challenger wasn't exactly afraid of going into the very narrow tunnel. It was more like thoughtful. He remembered quite distinctly getting caught in the last one and being humiliated when he had to be dragged out by the seat of his pants to freedom.

"I can do this." He told himself, not believing a word of it.

"I really am getting too young to be doing this." He muttered, angry at himself for having even an ounce of doubt.

"Challenger, are you going to enter or not." Conan hollered at him from inside the tunnel.

"Well if you can do it, I see no reason why I cannot." Challenger decided with a certainty he wasn't exactly feeling. Sweat broke out on his flushed red forehead as he tilted into the opening, dropped to his knees and began crawling towards Conan.

"Come on, Challenger; don't go sour grapes on me." Conan chided.

Challenger swatted at the huge flies pouring all over him from inside and outside. "It's beastly hot in here and I hate grapes, sour or not." He confided in a burst of righteous outrage.

Conan ignored him. He kept sliding backwards deeper into the opening, like a carrot before a donkey, teasing his friend to follow. He knew he wouldn't get stuck. He had already been inside and back now to lead Challenger, but he knew his friend's fears of tight spaces were very real and didn't want to shortchange him by calling him a coward, for he was nothing such. A man who could survive the attack of a Tyrannosaur had nothing to worry about heroic moments, even the ones that required him to go into a very tight enclosed space.

"I'm coming, I'm coming." Challenger said over and over, as if to calm Conan, when in fact it was to keep his mind off his own nerves.

And the last time.

It was Atlantis. Or rather what remained of it at the time? Most of it had submerged off the coast of Africa, and its remains stretched all the way to the new world of the Mericas. He had been enticed by the possibility of finding one of the legendary crystals that that ancient civilization had supposedly had the use of. Such power was unheard of, even with Tesla, Edison and Einstein driving modern technology at a breakneck pace.

He had been invited in the explorations by an old friend of his, the Count, or as some called him Dracula. He preferred being called the Count, as it didn't have as many negative ramifications as Dracula. A long maligned family line, he had proven a true prince of grace and rescued many natives of the sinking portions of Atlantis, and removed them to his native lands, given them new land to build and cultivate, and help in the construction of new homes and jobs.

The Count never liked to talk about that part of his life, he considered it dull and unromantic, besides the lack of humility it implied. Ever the humble man, except when in public, he preferred anonymity for his gracious deeds.

He had been helped to function in the daylight by a device created by Tesla and Edison based on some physics that Einstein had come up with. With the device he was able to cloak the harmful rays of the sun so they did not harm his body. He could survive in direct sunlight, but it took him weeks to heal from the damage he  incurred. Rumors of silver and sunlight killing vampires were nonsense, as vampires were a natural mutation of the order of life, and not supernatural creatures. At least not in the world that this Professor Challenger had been born.

Magic was taken as natural and normal here, and no one gave it a second thought, unless they were being harmed by it. But there were organizations that dealt with black magic, voodoo and the practice of evil spells. They were highly hidden and remarkably efficient in taking out those who promised to be a threat to the world of today.

They were the Baker Street Adventurers, of whom he was one.

But at that time it was just him and the Count. The Count had discovered a vault was hidden deep in the central core of a falling island. It only had a matter of hours before it would sink completely and he and the Count had to work quickly if they were to invade the vault and retrieve some of the valuable crystals of Atlantis hidden there.

The Count had slid through the tunnel effortlessly, able to use his double jointed nature to slip through tight crevices. But alas, poor Challenger had gotten stuck on the way out, and with but a few minutes to spare before the sea claimed the tunnel and all within. Himself. The Count had to use drastic measures.

He had bitten Challenger in his bottom. The pain of it was nothing like the humiliation he felt to have a vampire take a healthy chunk from his generous bottom. He had screamed as if his very soul were being taken and broken through the crevice holding him, rushed outside, and then turned around to battle the Count, quite having forgotten why he was bitten in the first place.

"Well, here we are. The water is rising and our ride awaits us." The Count said calmly as the Professor reached for his heavy pistol.

Challenger suddenly relaxed his color normalizing as he realized he had been saved. He rubbed his aching bottom and told the Count. "If you tell a soul what happened here, I shall never let you see the light of day again."

The Count laughed. "Not such a big loss. But I will be quiet as a form of friendship which I owe you."

Challenger, mollified, had taken the one crystal they had found and raised it up to examine it more closely. It was purple in color.

As he looked at it the purple seemed to break apart, and he could see his other hand. Then the stench struck him.

He dropped the crystal, which was no such thing.

"We have been hoodwinked!" Challenger cried out. "This is nothing more than a prehistoric grape!"

And ever since that day whenever Atlantis was mentioned he could only think of that foul odor of the sour petrified grape.

Challenger finally managed to squeeze through the narrow opening that Conan had widened for him and entered a chamber of magnificent proportions that he could stand in. He felt all his fears vanish as he looked on in awe at the beautiful Elven runes carved into the marble walls, which formed a semi-circle about a fountain of spring water that flowed endlessly from a bulb shaped flower that lit up the room with sparkles of light.

Conan smiled. "I told you it would be worth it."

Challenger smiled. "My dear friend, Conan, I feel absolutely no sour grapes about Atlantis this time. For we have found the Fountain of Youth. Unfortunately..." He laughed. "It only works for Elves."

They both laughed, then Conan gave him a peculiar look and Challenger laughed even harder. Conan didn't need to know exactly why he knew that.

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.