Chapter 15 Lair of the Medusa

Darkness had swallowed the bat of a plane before Doc Savage returned to the cockpit. Dusk had come and gone while the bronze man labored in the chemical wizard's den at the rear of the big ship. Lucky Loo sat at one set of controls, Renny Renwick at the other. The former seemd to be flying the plane, the latter supervising. The auto-pilot was not engaged, Doc noticed. "I'm teaching Lucky to fly," stated the big engineer. "He's doing pretty well." Doc, with one corded bronze hand, held up a small ceramic jar. He addressed the two men. "Take this. Rub its contents all over your bodies. Don't miss a spot. Don't worry about putting too much on. After a few minutes, it will be absorbed into the skin, much like cold cream or vaseline." Switching on the auto-pilot with one over-sized thumb, Renny said, "Okay, Doc." The big engineer stood from his chair, followed by Lucky, who said, "Yes, boss." The two left the cockpit. Doc Savage engaged the silencers for the three big motors, and their noise promptly faded away to be replaced by a sound not unlike three cats purring after lapping up a saucer full of milk. Three large, powerful cats. In the fuselage of the plane, the big-fisted engineer began disrobing. Lucky uncapped the jar. "Phew," he exclaimed. "What is this stuff?" "I don't know," rumbled giant Renny, "but if Doc says do something, it's a good idea to do it." He began applying the salve. It was thick and gooey, like petroleum jelly. Screwing up his nose at the noxious odor, Lucky began removing his clothing. The two of them entered the cockpit minutes later. Both wore unpleasant expressions, faces screwed up in annoyance. "This stuff sure ain't going to win any perfume contests," Renny observed ruefully. Lucky Loo was silent, holding his nose between finger and thumb. "I didn't have time to make it pleasant-smelling," Doc said dryly. The sarcasm there was ephemeral. "The odor will fade as the salve becomes absorbed by the skin." "How long before it's gone entirely?" asked the worthy with a nasal twang, his nose pinched shut. "A few days," Doc said, with a little too much mirth for Lucky's liking. "The chemical has to work its way out of your system." Renny took his seat. He gestured to the sliver of moon in the night sky. "We're lucky the new moon was only a couple of days ago. We don't need reflections of moonlight on the wings alerting Medusa to our arrival." Doc agreed as Lucky handed him back the small jar. The bronze man put it into a pocket. Easter Island shortly appeared below them. A faint light was visible. Its irregularity suggested it came from a fire. "I think that's a plane down there," rumbled giant Renny, squinting for a better view. "I can just make out its outline." "Land in the water, Renny," Doc instructed. "We'll leave the plane off-shore, and take the collapsible boat. We'll have a better chance of getting ashore undetected that way." The collapsible boat was standard equipment aboard the big plane. It unfolded to a size capable of carrying several people. Renny and Doc Savage paddled, silently propelling the small craft toward the shore. The paddles could double as shovels, if necessary. The bronze man planned for as much of his equipment as possible to have more than one use. He saved valuable space this way. The tri-motor functioned as a sort of mobile headquarters, designed to serve in any number of situations. There was no sign of anyone on the beach. It was as quiet and deserted as a church on Saturday night. The two muscular giants stroked away quietly, neither seemingly exerting himself, yet the small boat shot toward the island. It wasn't long before the collapsible craft reached the shore, and Doc disembarked the thing--instructing the others to follow suit--and hauled it up onto dry land. He and big Renny carried it behind a set of small boulders near the beach, leaving no trace of its trail. Doc Savage withdrew from his vest three sets of eyepieces, which resembled aviator's goggles but for the lenses. The lenses, black as a lump of coal left for a naughty child by Santa on Christmas morning, were the size of condensed milk cans. The bronze man handed one set to Lucky. "Put these on," he instructed. Lucky did as he was told, finding the lenses completely opaque. He literally could not see his hand in front of his face. Quite suddenly, the worthy's vision lit up brilliantly. He saw Doc and Renny, each wearing his own set of goggles. In one hand, the bronze man held a device which resembled a camera. The area where the "camera" pointed was brightest, Lucky observed. "What goes on?" the worthy asked in a low voice. "This lantern projects infra-rays, which are invisible to the naked eye," Doc Savage explained. "The goggles are specially designed to allow the wearer to view the rays, as a person would normally view sunlight. It is not so much the light you see, as what is being illuminated by the light." "It's as bright as noon," exclaimed Lucky. Doc swung the lantern away from the worthy, and the area before Lucky grew dim. The thing functioned like a spotlight--very little of the rays were visible outside the main beam. "This way," said the man of bronze, indicating a path with the beam from the infra-red ray lantern. The three of them worked their way inland, passing among the huge stone heads carved hundreds of years earlier by the natives of the island. "Isn't it kind of odd," said Lucky, "the 'stone death' coming from the island famous for its giant stone statues?" This observation was greeted by silence. "Maybe it's not so odd," said Lucky, nervously, a moment later. It wasn't long before the small group came upon the airstrip they had spotted from the air. Two armed gunsels stood beside a fire, and behind them, a plane, obviously the one stolen from Mills Field in San Francisco the day before. Doc held up a hand to alert the other two before they came in sight of the guards. He motioned to some scrub brush, taking cover behind it. "Wait here," the bronze man instructed. He handed the lantern to big Renny, then got to his feet, removing his goggles as he did so. Doc left, his passing as silent as that of any jungle predator. He disappeared into the darkness. Presently, Renny and Lucky, from their limited vantage point, heard a thrashing noise, as if something--or someone--had stumbled into a scrub bush not far from the plane. It sounded as though the creature had become entangled in the brush and was struggling to free itself. "Come on," exclaimed Lucky, scrambling to his feet. "Doc's in trouble." The big engineer grabbed the worthy with an iron grip, pulling him from his feet. Lucky tumbled to the ground without much sound, his pride, more than anything else, hurting. "Stay put," rumbled Renny, in a low voice which left no room for discussion. Lucky and the big-fisted engineer watched as the two gunsels walked toward the noise. There was some talking going on, but neither Renny nor Lucky could make out what was being said. Using flashlights, the two guards investigated the source of the sounds. Neither, however, left sight of the plane. They were professionals. Doc Savage, with all the noise of a ghost, re-appeared so suddenly next to Renny and Lucky that the worthy gave a start. "We thought you were in trouble," whispered Lucky Loo. On the other side of him, Renny rolled his eyes. "Just making certain Medusa does not leave this island before we're ready for him to do so," the bronze man assured Lucky. The worthy's face screwed up in puzzlement. "The plane has been disabled," Doc explained. Lucky's face still held the blank expression of bewilderment. "A chemical will prevent the engines from starting," Doc Savage elaborated. Renny knew of the chemical the bronze man had used on Medusa's plane--it was one which prevented combustion. Doc normally used it as a vapor, in which form it was drawn into a motor. It became a sticky, gummy substance which could not be washed away with water. An engine would not start until the chemical had been wiped out of the carburetor using alcohol. "The chemical will lose its effectiveness after several hours," Doc said. "We have until dawn, perhaps." Doc Savage had thrown small glass grenades containing the vapor at the motors, the big engineer deduced. The audible noise which had attracted the gunsels' attention had been a ruse caused by Doc, drawing them far enough away from the plane so they would not hear the breaking of the glass of the tiny grenades. Renny had not seen the bronze man use the chemical in this form before, and decided the change explained its limited efficacy. Doc was always experimenting with his gadgets. "I discovered a path which seems to be relatively new," Doc Savage said. "It may take us where we want to go." The bronze man went off silently into the darkness, leading the way. The new path wound through scrub brush and low hills, twisting and turning. After several minutes of travel, Lucky Loo had no idea where on the island they were. Doc, in front, suddenly held up a hand, indicating the party halt. He disappeared into the night. Minutes passed, probably fewer than Lucky Loo believed. Renny watched for signs of activity while they waited. The bronze man returned shortly, shouldering a man. Doc put him behind a small bush, laying him curled up, with the idea he would be harder to spot that way. "There are guards all around," the bronze man whispered. "We are near Medusa's encampment. Proceed with caution." Before either big-fisted Renny or Lucky could respond, Doc Savage moved away, blending into the surrounding darkness. The worthy looked to the big engineer for some kind of answer. Renny withdrew from a shoulder holster a gun which appeared to be an over-sized automatic, one equipped with a ram's-horn clip in front of the trigger guard. The gun was one of Doc's design, created years earlier, at the beginning of the bronze man's career. Big Renny started moving along the path, leading the way with the compact infra-ray projector. It was an indisputable fact that Doc Savage could move more quickly and more quietly by himself. He did so, rapidly outdistancing his two companions. The bronze man had been taught tracking and silent movement skills by the best native hunters in the world. It was a simple matter for him to locate the guards Medusa had posted. The gunsels might just have well been wearing lights on helmets, like miners, for all their ability to hide from Doc. The acrid odor of burning tobacco assaulted the bronze man's sensitive nostrils. He followed the aromatic trail, locating the man who smoked a cigarette. The gunsel was a South American whom Doc recognized from the tramp steamer. Doc Savage sprang on the guard like a jungle cat, silent and deadly. The man fell hard to the ground, the bronze man on top of him. Doc got hold of the man's neck, twisted some nerves there, causing the guard to become insensate. The bronze man dragged his quarry behind a scrub bush, and went on. Doc Savage collected half a dozen gunsels in as many minutes in this manner. The man of bronze found the encampment. It consisted of a main fire, around which several gunsels lounged. The base abutted a low hill, which gave it protection on two sides. It would be difficult to get into without being seen. Doc's golden eyes roved the area and discovered a small space between two boulders at one side of the camp, the edge of the hill, just large enough for a man to squeeze through. He backed away from the camp, and moved around it toward the gap, silent as a leopard padding through the veldt. To his surprise, the bronze man found another path, leading away from the fire pit. It came through the gap Doc had been planning to enter. He followed this trail, which also was fresh. Doc Savage's keen ears picked up the scuff of a boot against the ground on the trail ahead. He moved off the path, got behind a rise, and waited for the oncoming man. The lone traveller came up the trail. Medusa! The bronze man recognized the man on the trail. For all his fearsomeness, Medusa wore plain khakis, and sturdy boots. He walked past the spot Doc Savage hid. Doc rose silently from his crouched position behind the rise, like bronze smoke, poised to strike... Came the cacophonous rattle of gunfire!

The Stone Death Written By: Jeff Deischer Dedicated to "Kenneth Robeson X" for his encouragement. The Stone Man is a work of fan fiction. Doc Savage is © Conde Nast Back to: Top of Page Index Page Home Page