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SAMPLE CHAPTERS FROM THE NEW FANTASY/HUMOR NOVEL
"THAT DARN SQUID GOD"
by Nick Pollotta & James Clay
Coming August 2003 from Wildside Press.
ISBN: 1-59224-097-6

CHAPTER ONE

Swirling fog ruled the London night.

Stepping from a horse-drawn carriage into the thick mist, Professor Felix Einstein paused on the sidewalk to briefly consult the small glass globe in his hand. Trapped in the middle of the crystalline sphere was a mummified Egyptian tarantula that remained motionless under his hard scrutiny, and the professor relaxed at the sign that there was no evil magic in the immediate vicinity. At least, for the moment.

Satisfied for the nonce, Prof. Einstein tucked the talisman away once more into his great coat. Dressed like a Bow Street banker, Einstein was sporting an Inverness cape over his gray-striped suit and Oxford school tie, with the mandatory small porridge stain. His craggy face was deeply tanned, and the silver highlights in his wavy hair almost perfectly matched the silver lionhead of his ebony walking cane. The inner pocket of his coat bulged with an Adams .32 revolver, and looped across his waistcoat was a gold watch chain with a petrified shark tooth dangling at the end as a fob. Jutting from a pocket of his vest was an embossed case containing numerous calling cards that merely listed his name, address, and a few dozen of his titles. His real profession was not among them.

Starting to address the waiting cabby, Prof. Einstein frowned as he caught a gale of laughter coming from the nearby building. Eh? In the expert opinion of the professor, a tribe of Zulu warriors performing the Mexican hat dance could not have been more incongruous than the gales of laughter which came from the ground floor windows of the five-story brownstone building dominating the block.

In the past few weeks, Einstein had noticed that the weather patterns of the entire world were steadily becoming worse; snow in Egypt, tornadoes in the Amazon jungle, bright sunshine in Liverpool, and such. Yet those were merely side-effects of the coming apocalypse.

So who could possibly be laughing at such a dire time as this? the professor demanded irritably. Surely not my fellow club members! Maybe the fog was distorting the noise of some distant party so that it seemed nearby? Yes, of course, that must be the answer. How obvious.

"Best stay sharp, Davis," Prof. Einstein said, reaching upward to shake hands with the burly driver. The complicated procedure took a few moments as thumbs, fists, knuckles, tickling and slapping where involved. It seemed more of friendly fight between the two men than a salutation.

"I'd recommend a routine number nine," Einstein added as they eventually let go.

"My very thought," Davis whispered, checking the iron cudgel tucked into his wide leather belt. The 'Liverpool Lawgiver' was worn from constant use, and appeared as formidable as a consort Navy battleship. "Just you look for me, and I'll be there, governor."

"Good man."

Giving a wink, Davis shook the reins, and started the two draft horses away from the curb at a gentle cantor. The cab vanished into the billowing clouds, and soon there was only the rattling echo of its wooden wheels on the cobblestones to ghostly fade away.

Shaking off his uneasy feeling, Prof. Einstein checked the loaded pistol in his pocket before starting along the sidewalk towards the giant brownstone. Then the odd laughter sounded again, louder this time, and most definitely from the club. Outrageous! With an annoyed snort, Einstein began to stride impatiently towards the towering downtown mansion.

Reaching the front of the huge building, Prof. Einstein ambled up the worn marble stairs with his mind still on the strange laughter. Einstein was quite aware that at any given time one could be almost sure of the leader of some newly returned expedition regaling the assembled members with their latest tales of daring-do, heavily embellished with sound effects, visual aids and the unwilling cooperation of the nearest staff member. In point of fact, the London Explorers Club was the only establishment in England that was forced to offer its servants combat pay. But raucous laughter when the world was on the brink of destruction? Professor Einstein frowned in consternation. Most unseemly. He had sincerely hoped that at least some of the other members would have been able to read the portents of the coming apocalypse. Perhaps he was wrong.

Pushing open the brass-bound mahogany door, Einstein entered the mansion and handed his Inverness cape, hat and cane to a doorman, who in turn passed them to a liveried page. Taking a deep breath, the professor stood for a precious moment to let the warm air seep into his bones. The pungent atmosphere was thick with the homey smell of wood polish, pipe smoke and cordite. Ah, home, sweet home!

Just then, another burst of laughter arose only to be abruptly cut off by a man's stern voice. Einstein tried to catch what was being said, but it was rapidly drowned out by a new upswelling of mirth. The noise seemed to be coming from the Great Hall. In spite of the urgency of his mission, the professor was forced to admit that this was becoming interesting. There was an unwritten law in the club that one had best know when to stick to the truth and when one could embellish a story a bit. A law that many bent, but few actually broke. Sadly, there was always a significant number of expeditions that encountered nothing more exciting than fetid jungles, smarmy natives and dull animals who were so patently stupid that they would wander directly in front of you and politely wait while you dug the old 30.06 Winchester out of your haversack and did them the favor of blowing out their brains. But those were tales hardly worth repeating.

Proceeding quickly down the center passageway, Professor Einstein turned left at a suit of Spanish armor and entered the Great Hall. No exaggeration had been used to name the room as it was a good three hundred paces long, its oak beam ceiling an arrow flight away. The four'n square wood floor was dotted with a hundred islands of India rugs and velvet smoking chairs, while in the center of the room, a tiered Italian fountain quietly burbled and splashed. Lining the walls were mammoth bookcases containing over a million leather bound tomes, most of them first editions, or handwritten journals. High above this grandeur, a beautifully sculptured bronze bust of Marco Polo was on the second story balcony. The patron saint of explorers dutifully keeping watch over his modern-day students.

Crowding around a blazing fireplace, a group of club members were surrounding a small display table. Placed prominently on that scarred expanse of dark oak was a small wooden ship, barely a foot in length. A single low cabin was in the middle of the deck of the tiny vessel. No sails or masts were visible, and the rudder was broken.

"By god, Carstairs," Lord Danvers laughed from underneath a bushy Royal British Marine moustache. "You'll have to do better than that!"

"Rather," Dr. Thompkins snorted, dipping his red nose once more into a half-empty whiskey glass. "Balderdash, I say. Violates the unwritten law. Noah's Ark, indeed."

In righteous indignation, Lord Benjamin Carstairs rose to his full height and no hat was necessary for him to tower over the other members.

In cold scrutiny, Prof. Einstein could see the fellow must be over six feet tall, and maybe two hundred pounds in weight, with not an ounce on fat on the heavily muscled, almost Herculean, frame. The giant was in dapper a three-piece suit of a brown worsted material that perfectly complemented his stiff white shirt and striped Harvard tie. His lantern jaw was painfully clean shaven, while the pale brown hair and blue eyes clearly announced a Saxon heritage.

Oh well, nobody's perfect, the Norman-descended Einstein observed wryly.

"I stand on my earlier statement, sirs," Lord Carstairs said calmly, resting a tanned hand on the little craft. "You have seen my journals and read my analysis. This ship was found on the peak of Mt. Ararat, hidden in a stratified gully just below the snow line. It is made of 4,000-year-old gopher wood and sealed with crude pitch. To scale, it is of the proper dimensions, and perfectly matches the description of the craft in the Book of Genesis, chapters six through ten. I believe that it was constructed by Noah Ben Lamech, as a working model, before he built the actual sea-going ark itself."

Once more guffaws filled the air and some rude soul added a juicy American raspberry.

"Good evening, gentlemen," Professor Einstein said loudly, interrupting the brouhaha.

In prompt response, the boisterous crowd stopped making noise and turned smartly about.

"Felix, old boy!" Baron Edgewaters shouted, his bushy beard appearing to weigh more than his prominent belly. "Excellent timing as always. We've got a real wowser for you this time."

"Lad claims to have found a relic off of Noah's Ark, by gad!" Lord Danvers chortled, taking another healthy gulp. "Thinks he can fool us like Thomson did in '74 with his 'continent under Antarctica' theory. Haw!"

"How wonderful," Einstein snorted, dismissing the matter with a gesture. "He found Noah's Ark. My heartiest congratulations. But I have even more pressing news to convey."

"I said a model, not the ark itself, sir," Carstairs corrected primly.

The professor shrugged. "Whatever you wish. It is of no consequence."

"Indeed? And what could be more important than this?" Lord Danvers demanded, stroking his moustache. "The end of the world?"

Eagerly opening his mouth to speak, Prof. Einstein was cut off by Lord Carstairs.

"And exactly who are you, sir?" the lord asked.

"Haven't you two fellows ever met before?" Dr. Thompkins gasped in wonderment, rising from a chair.

"No," they replied in unison.

"But this calamity must be corrected with all due haste!" Colonel Pierpont declared, adjusting his pince-nez glasses and assuming an authoritarian pose. "Carstairs, might I introduce Professor Felix Einstein of the International British Museum, a private concern. Einstein, may I introduce Lord Benjamin Carstairs of Heather Downs, Preston."

With both hands clasped behind his back, Lord Carstairs nodded in greeting. "A pleasure, sir. I have read your books on archeology with the greatest of interest. Particularly your monograph on the feasibility that Stonehenge is a form of solar calendar."

Impatiently, Einstein accepted the compliment with what grace he could muster under the circumstances. "A minor work. And I have more than a passing acquaintance with your own journals, sir. Your theories on the possible Aztec origin of the Easter Island statues are most impressive."

"Thank you."

"And if it will speed things along, as a senior member of the club, I officially acknowledge and congratulate you on your find," Einstein continued. "For this is not a model as you suppose, but the actual ark itself."

The roomful of explorers went stock-still at that as if a live woman had entered the club.

"A-are you crazed, Felix?" Sir Lovejoy erupted in shock, going even more pale than usual. "The craft is barely a foot long! How in the name of Queen Victoria could that toy carry seven and two of every animal on the face of the earth?"

"Explain yourself, sir!" Dr. Thompkins demanded.

Quite exasperated, Prof. Einstein closed his eyes so that nobody would see him roll them about. Ye gods, plainly no other topic of conversation would be considered until this trifling matter was resolved. So be it.

"Jeeves!" the professor shouted over a shoulder.

Instantly, the liveried butler appeared in the doorway as if he had been waiting for the explosive summons. "Yes, sir?" he drawled in proper English servitude.

"Fresh gasogenes, please," Einstein commanded, thoughtfully rubbing his lucky shark's tooth. "Every bloody one we have."

This gave Jeeves pause. There was a barely used soda water dispenser on the liquor cart right beside the man. Why would he wish additional reservoirs? And every one? For a club like the Explorers, that meant several dozen, at the very least. Then the butler went cold. Oh no, he prayed fervently, not another re-enactment of the Amazon rain forest. Anything but that.

"Wasn't aware that you've recently been to the Amazon, Felix," Lord Danvers said, refilling his glass as the somber butler shuffled away.

Part 2