RICK BRANT RED DEATH 1

THE SIGN OF THE RED DEATH
 a Rick Brant fanfiction adventure

all current chapters available at this alternate site:
https://sites.google.com/site/rickbrantfanfiction

Chapter One: THE WHITE CLAWS
New York City, December 1948

Rick Brant and his friend Don Scott walked down bustling Fifth Avenue in New York City. It was a gray overcast  Friday afternoon in mid-December and the boys were on vacation from Whiteside High for the holidays. The jostling crowds of Christmas shoppers, the Salvation Army Santas clanging their bells at the store entrances, and the hawkers of every type offering their wares on the street corners all added to the festive holiday spirit boldly announced by the colorful decorations on storefronts and lampposts.

Rick smiled broadly as he looked around. "There's nothing quite like Fifth Avenue at Christmas time, Scotty," he said, using his friend's nickname. "It sure can get you in the holiday spirit."

Scotty, a husky dark-haired boy who was a year older and a few inches taller than the slimmer brown-haired Rick, nodded in agreement. "We're in the holiday spirit, all right." He looked down at the shopping bags they were carrying, both of them filled with gifts. "All we have to do is buy something for Barby and we'll be finished with our Christmas shopping."

Barby was Rick's sister, a pretty blonde a year younger than him. Scotty had taken a special liking to her since having come to live with the Brant family at their big house on Spindrift Island off the New Jersey coast, not far from New York City.

"We have to get her something special. Something relating to polar bears," Rick said as they walked past Saks Fifth Avenue department store. The boys both craned their necks to look over the heads of the crowd at the elegant holiday window displays.

"I know of a taxidermy shop on 46th Street near Times Square," Scotty told him. "There's a pawn shop next door where I used to pawn things when I needed money before I joined the Marines."

Rick didn't know much about Scotty's life before he had come to live with him and his family after his stint with the Marines in the war was over. Scotty seldom talked about it. "Sounds good," Rick said. "They might have a polar bear tooth, or something like that. Let's go to Rockefeller Center to see the ice skaters and the big Christmas tree, then we'll go over to Times Square."

Scotty agreed and the boys crossed the avenue at 50th Street by St. Patrick's Cathedral, moving along with the teeming crowds. Rick was especially proud of Barby right now. Through her very own ingenuity, he and Scotty were poised on the brink of what promised to be an exciting adventure. Rick tensed the muscles of his upper left arm, and he could feel the snug-fitting band he wore wrapped around it that he and Scotty had dubbed 'The Barby Bear Tracker'. He grinned as a couple of the holiday shoppers jostled him and Scotty.

"Hold onto those bags," Scotty remarked. "We sure don't want to lose our gifts."

"No way," Rick replied. "Especially with the extra tracker collar in this bag I'm carrying. Isn't it great to know that Barby is back home tracking us here in New York City?"

"It's super," Scotty agreed. "We should call her by telephone and see how it's working."

"Great idea! We can call her on the way over to Times Square."

The boys knew that right now Barby was sitting at the desk in Rick's bedroom tracking them on the base station radio unit. The entire bear tracking collar invention had been her idea. Barby had written a paper for school last term about the polar bears up north on Hudson Bay in Canada. While doing her research, she discovered that the Canadian Wildlife Service was trying to put together a tracking collar system for the bears so that the biologists could keep tabs on them to study their lives and habits.

Because of his talent in electronic science, Barby had suggested to Rick that he try to design a bear tracking collar system. He took up the challenge and within several weeks had a working model. With the help of his father, Hartson W. Brant, the world famous scientist, and the other electronic scientists at the Spindrift Laboratories on Spindrift Island, Rick soon had a base unit put together that could track the collars using radio waves and geodetic coordinates.

Then came the really exciting part. Through connections of Rick's dad and the Spindrift labs, Rick was invited by the Canadian Wildlife Service to take his tracking system up to Hudson Bay and try it out on the polar bears. If it worked and the service wanted it, the Spindrift Laboratories would produce the system and Rick would receive a royalty for having conceived and created it.

Of course, Scotty was to accompany Rick to Canada, and the boys were scheduled to leave for the Manitoba coast of Hudson Bay on the following day. The plan, if all went well, was to stay a few days in the Churchill area testing out the system and then return home to arrive the day before Christmas. Chahda , the Hindu boy they had recently met in India while on their way to Tibet, was going to be home from his boarding school in Massachusetts for the holidays, and they were looking forward to seeing him. He had become another adopted member of the family. Even though both Rick and Scotty were excited at the prospect of going to the far North in the dead of winter, they wouldn't dream of missing Christmas on Spindrift Island for anything.

Soon the boys had reached the lower plaza, the world famous open court surrounded by the towering skyscrapers of Rockefeller Center. They wormed their way through the crowds to the ice rink where dozens of skaters were spinning around in carefree abandon beneath the golden statue of Prometheus and the tall beautifully decorated Christmas tree above it.

"That's the tallest Christmas tree in the world," Rick said, gazing up at its heights. "Wow, what a job to decorate it, huh?"

Scotty didn't respond and Rick looked over to see a very pensive and sober look on his friend's face.

Scotty sighed. "I used to come here every Christmas season when I was younger. Usually alone. I'd stroll over here to see the tree and watch the skaters."

Rick looked at him, feeling uncomfortable and not knowing what to say.

Scotty smiled a sheepish grin. "I guess I'll tell you about those days ..... someday."

Rick clapped him on the back and squeezed his shoulder. "Hey, anytime you want to." Knowing it wasn't polite to pry, Rick looked back to the ice rink and added, "This is one of the most popular New York holiday traditions. Lots of people from all over the world come here to see the ice skaters and the Christmas tree."

Scotty looked up to the tops of the powerful skyscrapers surrounding them. "Whew! How did they construct these buildings? Darn if it doesn't make you wonder. Manhattan is one heck of a place. Sure beats that lost city back in Tibet, doesn't it?"

Rick nodded in agreement. Scotty was referring to the adventure they'd had earlier in the year when they discovered THE LOST CITY of the Mongols in the Valley of the Golden Tomb in Tibet, and relayed a radio message from there to Spindrift Island via the moon.

"Good thing Barby gave us those fireworks for the Fourth of July," Rick said. "They sure helped to scare off the Mongols and save the day. We were lucky to get out of there alive."

Scotty smirked. "We'll be lucky to get out of this place alive, too. But if we don't make it, at least Barby will know where we are."

The crush of the crowd had grown to annoying proportions, and they really did need to move on and finish their shopping so they could get home to Spindrift Island in time for supper. The boys had flown to Newark Airport in Rick's yellow Piper Cub airplane. There they had rented a late model coupe and driven into the city. They had parked the car at the Plaza Hotel near Central Park.

"Then let's scram," Rick suggested. "We'll stop and call Barby, then go to the taxidermy shop."

Scotty agreed and they literally had to push their way out of the crowded plaza. Both of them being young and strong and athletic, they had to be careful not to knock anyone down.

"Sort of like holiday-shopping football, isn't it?" Scotty commented with a laugh. "Look at all these people!"

Rick chuckled too. "But I bet I'm the only one here wearing a bear tracking collar!"

"The only one in all of Manhattan," Scotty corrected. "You truly are one-in-a-million, young man!"

The boys walked over to Seventh Avenue and then down to 46th Street in the heart of the theater district. They stopped at a telephone booth on the corner where Broadway intersected, and Rick stepped inside to place a call to Spindrift Island.

Barby let out a squeal when she heard his voice. "Rick! I'm tracking you perfectly! This system is a huge success. Right now the co-ordinates tell me you are smack in midtown Manhattan. Looks like, um, Times Square......?"

"We're right on the uptown edge of it," Rick said, excited at the exactness of the tracking system. "Are you picking up the signal loud and clear?"

"Clear as a bell, Rick."

"That's amazing, considering the crowds and these tall buildings."

Barby chuckled. "The relay antennas Dad got them to put on the Chrysler Building and the lighthouse at Sandy Hook really do the job! And those new-fangled things you scientists call 'transistors' really fire up the transmitters on those collars."

Rick's eyes crinkled with a big grin. "You bet they do. I just knew the Spindrift labs were right on track with dreaming those up. When they become readily available in the near future, why .... they'll revolutionize radio!"

Barby always knew Rick was one hundred percent right. "Wowsville! Just wait till you guys get up to Hudson Bay. You'll be able to track the polar bears all the way to the North Pole."

Scotty leaned into the booth and shouted in the phone. "We're almost done shopping, Barby. Just have to get a gift for you and then we're on our way home."

"We'll get you something really special," Rick added. "The tracking system was your idea, and you deserve something out of the ordinary."

Barby wished them luck. "I'll track you on the way home," she added. "Have a good flight from Newark!"

Rick hung up the phone and he and Scotty crossed Broadway at the intersection famous for being one of the busiest in the world. Lugging the shopping bags, they hurried down West 46th Street.

"That's the pawn shop." Scotty pointed ahead as they approached. "And next door is the taxidermist."

Rick looked at the pawn shop as they passed and he couldn't imagine Scotty having to go there to trade items for cash. He was glad his friend now lived with him, had a good job and school to attend, a family, and a roof over his head.

The taxidermy shop was far more interesting. The sign above the door read MORRY'S WILD ADVENTURE, and the windows on each side were filled with animals of every kind, from small squirrels and chipmunks to the large heads of deer and moose.

"Looks like my kind of place," Rick said as Scotty pulled open the door, setting off a little bell to tinkling.

Entering the store was indeed like walking into a wild adventure. Animals of every size and shape filled the crowded establishment, every one of them frozen forever in a dramatic pose. There were jungle beasts from Africa, India, and South America, predators from the mountains, forests, and deserts of North America, and critters familiar to everyone from their own backyards.

"Wow," Rick breathed, impressed as he looked at antlered heads, skins, and pelts hanging on the walls. "I sure could spend a fortune in this place."

Scotty's eyes darted from one beautiful trophy to the next. "They're all pretty incredible. I guess people actually buy these animals and pelts and display them in their homes."

Rick rolled his eyes and chuckled. "Could you imagine Mom's surprise if we brought her home a tiger?" He pointed to a white one with black stripes that was almost as big as Scotty. It was hunched down and ready to spring at an imaginary victim.

Scotty grinned. "I think she'd throw us out if we brought something like that home. I've heard of white tigers, but I never saw one before."

"They are very rare, indeed," said a voice behind them. "That one is an especially excellent specimen. And a good buy, too, at only five hundred dollars."

The boys swung around to see a short elderly man with graying hair and a close-cropped beard. His sharp-featured face held a friendly expectant smile and his inquisitive eyes darted up and down as he assessed the boys as prospective customers.

"Five hundred!" Scotty exclaimed. "Jeez, who would buy it at a price like that, and what would they do with it?"

The man smiled in amusement, giving the boys a somewhat condescending look. Scotty's remark had let him know they weren't going to be big spenders. "The usual buyer for a trophy of that quality is an uptown executive, and it'd most probably be placed in his library or den where it can readily be admired from a favorite easy chair. It might even find its way out to a Connecticut or Long Island estate."

Rick's brows furrowed. "Well, it's definitely not going out to the New Jersey estate where we live. My mom would bop me one, even if I could afford it. What we're interested in is polar bears. Not a whole one, mind you. Something small. A pelt, a claw, maybe a tooth?"

The man introduced himself as Morry Patterson, the owner of the shop, then crooked his finger. "You're in luck. I recently got a shipment of polar bear items from an associate up north."

Rick and Scotty followed him around to the next aisle where an elephant head competed with a huge gorilla for attention, next to them two striking wolves, one white and one black. Across from the wolves was a polar bear cub on all fours with several fluffy white pelts piled high next to it. Beside them was a massive full-grown male polar bear that looked more than ten feet tall. It was standing on its hind legs, its front paws raking the air with long black claws extended.

"Man, would you look at that beast?" Scotty exclaimed. "Big fellow, isn't he?"

Rick nodded with wide eyes. "I sure wouldn't want to run into him on an ice floe."

"A prize specimen, to be sure," Morry said proudly, patting the big bear affectionately. "But the price on this fellow is one thousand dollars. I don't think you boys are interested in spending that much, eh? What price range are you looking for?"

Rick shrugged. "Around fifty dollars or so, I suppose. We need a Christmas gift for my sister, something for a girl. She has a keen interest in polar bears."

Morry's eyes lit up and he grinned shrewdly. "I might have just the item you seek, although I don't know if I can go that low on it. Come on over to the showcase."

He led the way to a glass showcase in the back of the shop where he had his cash register and other office items. He stepped around behind as the boys looked at the articles within. There were feathers of every color and hue, some made into headdresses, pins, and other decorous items. Snake skins, small birds, and rabbit feet on gold chains were set on the velvet-covered shelves along with an array of jewelry made from the animal hides and parts.

"This is great stuff," Rick said admiringly. "I didn't know taxidermy extended to items like these."

"Its main popularity is with interior decor, but jewelry and accessories are a close second." The shopkeeper pulled a box out of the showcase and placed it on the glass top. The boys' jaws both dropped at the sight of what lay within it. It was a necklace on an ornate silver chain featuring five long gently curved white claws connected an eighth of an inch apart by silver caps and links.

"It's beautiful," Rick said, immediately liking the piece.

"And the perfect gift for Barby," Scotty added, his eyes wide with admiration.

Suddenly Rick's brows knitted in thought. He looked down the aisle at the huge white polar bear, then back to the necklace. "Are these polar bear claws?"

Morry nodded. "You bet they are. And rare ones, too."

"But they're white," Rick said. "Polar bear claws are black, aren't they?"

The older man grinned. "Indeed they are, almost always. But these claws are from a black polar bear. Blacks are extremely rare and almost never seen. Some experts believe they are only the stuff of old Indian and Eskimo legends. They are like a reverse albino specimen, an oddity, and they have white claws."

The boys looked at him dubiously. "Are you serious?" Rick asked. "Black polar bears?"

"Serious as can be." Morry turned and pulled a manilla folder off a shelf behind him. He flopped it on the counter, opened it, and began rifling through a bunch of eight-by-ten hunting photographs.

"Here." He placed one of the photographs on the counter so the boys could see it. It was a winter scene on a frozen treeless tundra. A parka-clad hunter stood on each side of a huge black bear spread out on its stomach to show its enormous size. It looked like a polar bear, but it was black.

"They're probably one-in-a-million," Morry went on. "Or even more rare than that. This is a photo of the only known one ever to be taken whole, several years ago up in Manitoba. The claws on this necklace came from one that had been killed in a fight with another bear. Its carcass had mostly been devoured by scavengers when the hunters found it, but they were able to salvage some of it."

Rick and Scotty exchanged glances. They knew that many animal species were known to produce strange oddities now and then. It would only make sense that the same would apply to polar bears. Rick wondered if Barby had come across this information in her recent study of the polar bears, and he made a mental note to ask her about it.

"This is really a very special item then," he said, looking at the necklace again. "And that's what we want. What's the price?"

"One hundred dollars."

Rick and Scotty both groaned.

"We just can't afford that," Rick said. "Although I'm sure the necklace is worth every penny of it."

Scotty made a fist and pounded it lightly on the showcase top. "But we have to get this for Barby!"

Morry Patterson lifted an eyebrow. "Is it so important to get her a polar bear item? I have plenty of other things appropriate for a young lady."

Rick nodded. He briefly told the man about Barby's idea for the tracking system, how he had actually turned it into a reality, and that he and Scotty would soon be bound for Hudson Bay to test it out. "So you see, we just have to get her something like this," he added.

The shopkeeper stood back and looked the boys over. "That's quite an impressive tale. It just so happens that I get most of my polar bear items from the Churchill area. I'd heard from my contacts up that way that the Canadian Wildlife Service has been testing ways and means of tracking the bears."

"Rick is wearing one of the collars," Scotty told the man. "And we have another in one of these shopping bags. Barby's at home tracking us right now. Show him the collar, Rick."

Rick usually didn't like to flaunt his inventions, but he could see no harm in showing the collar to the man. He withdrew his left arm from its jacket sleeve and showed Morry the brown leather collar coiled tightly around his upper arm. In its center was a round metal casing which held the electronic tracking device.

Morry stroked his beard and looked dubious. "And it really works?"

Scotty nodded eagerly. "It sure does. We called Barby a few minutes ago and she knew exactly where we were. In Times Square. Through connections of Rick's dad, we got test relay antennas put up on the Chrysler Building and the old lighthouse at Sandy Hook, in the state park in New Jersey. They are picking up the signal, amplifying it, and sending it back to the base unit at home perfectly."

"Hmmm." Scratching his chin, the elderly man pressed his lips together and his eyes narrowed. "And you have another in one of those shopping bags?"

Rick nodded, pulling his jacket sleeve back up into place. "It's not activated, but we brought it along as a spare, just in case. They're really pretty simple devices that most anyone with a knowledge of radio electronics could understand."

The shop owner chuckled. "Nothing electronic seems simple to me. But it sure looks like you got a winner there, and your little gal who came up with the idea does indeed deserve this necklace as a reward."

"Can you come down on the price?" Rick asked eagerly.

"Tell you what I'll do. This item is for sale on consignment. In other words, it belongs to another party and I get a commission for selling it. I sell a lot of items in that manner. I can call the owner at his office, and if he's willing to come down to what you can afford, it's yours."

Rick and Scotty exchanged hopeful glances. "We'd really appreciate your doing that, Mr. Patterson," Rick told him.

"Let me go in the back and make the call," said the man. "It might take a few minutes, so just hold on and I'll be back shortly."

He put the lid on the box with the necklace and took it with him, pulling aside a curtain which hung in the doorway leading to another room in the back of the shop. He was soon lost to sight and the boys could hear him dialing a telephone.

"Man, if we can get it for fifty bucks, that'd be half price," Scotty said in a low voice. "A real bargain, huh?"

"He'll probably want seventy-five," Rick said with a grin, expecting that this was just a set-up for bartering. "We'll have to offer sixty in that case. That's the absolute highest we can go."

Scotty nodded sagely and they listened to the murmur of Morry's voice as they awaited his return. Soon enough, they heard the click of the phone being hung up and the curtain was thrust aside. The man walked out smiling.

"You fellows are in luck," he said, placing the box back on the counter. "The owner says you can have it for fifty dollars. He can use the money for some hunting gear. Believe me, you're getting a really good deal."

Rick and Scotty looked at each other with surprised glances, then eagerly sprang for their wallets. They hadn't expected such good news.

"Thanks, Mr. Patterson," Scotty beamed. "You really caught us a break."

They paid him for the necklace and the man removed the box lid so they could see it again. Then he wrapped the box in a heavy protective paper. "Did you boys drive in from New Jersey?" he asked, as he placed the wrapped box in a paper bag.

"We rented a coupe at Newark Airport and drove in from there," Rick told him. "We parked the car uptown at the Plaza Hotel. And we'd better hurry and get going. It's a long drive back to Newark in the afternoon traffic."

The shop owner handed the bag to Rick. "Good luck to both of you on your trip to the far north country. You're sure to see polar bears at Churchill. They often wander right into the town."

Scotty chuckled as they turned to leave. "Who knows, we might even see a black one, if we're lucky."

Rick placed the bag with the necklace into the shopping bag he was carrying, and he and Scotty, after once more thanking the man for his kindness, hurried outside. Light snow was falling and it seemed even colder than before.

"We'd better get a taxi," Rick suggested, not relishing the idea of a walk uptown in the snow.

Scotty agreed, and they hailed a taxi and were soon flying across town and then up Fifth Avenue toward Central Park. The traffic was heavy, but it still seemed like they were caught up in a speed race on the avenue with the other motorists. The boys were laughing when they got out of the taxi in front of the Plaza Hotel.

"Next time we get the notion to go to far-off strange lands for excitement," Scotty jibed, "we can just come to New York and take a taxi ride instead!"

It was almost the same when they retrieved their rented coupe from the hotel garage and Rick began to drive back toward midtown. It was impossible not to get caught up in the rushing flow of the traffic and drive a little faster than normal, but Rick knew he'd never be able to drive in the city with the devil-may-care panache of a New York cabbie.

He drove down through the Lincoln Tunnel across to New Jersey and followed the route through Union City. He and Scotty eagerly discussed their upcoming trip along the way, making last minute plans about gear and equipment. The radio equipment, antennas, and collars had already been sent to Churchill, but they were taking along a complete system with them, just in case. They'd learned from their trip to Tibet that the unforeseen could happen, and often did. Even so, they had no real fear that any kind of trouble could befall them in a country so civilized and cultured as Canada.

Rick had driven to the outskirts of Union City and the coupe now sped down the highway to Newark in the wetlands near the Hackensack River. There wasn't much traffic at all on this stretch, only their coupe and a long black sedan not too far behind. The skies were miserably bleak and snow was falling lightly. Scotty had become unusually quiet since they'd come into the swampy area.

"What's up?" Rick asked, wondering why Scotty had gone quiet.

"That big sedan in back. It's tailing us."

Rick looked in the rearview mirror at the expensive-looking auto. He had noticed it a few minutes ago but had no idea how long it had been behind them.

"It's been behind us since we left the Plaza Hotel," Scotty said when Rick voiced the question. "All the way down to midtown, through the tunnel and Union City, and it's still right behind us now."

"Why didn't you say something?" Rick asked, frowning.

Scotty shrugged his broad shoulders. "I thought maybe I was imagining it, or maybe they're just going the same way. Why would anyone want to tail us?"

Suddenly, as they approached an especially lonely stretch of the remote pike, the big sedan sped up and closed in on them. Rick grunted. "Why would anyone want to tail us, indeed! Who knows? But no doubt they are!"

He slammed the accelerator to the floor and sped up, but the big car followed suit and stayed within a few yards of them. In the mirrors, Rick could see two men in the front seat with hats pulled down low over their foreheads. "Two guys in the front," he told Scotty. "Maybe more in the back. What the heck is going on?"

"Trouble," Scotty quickly returned, his fists clenched. "That's what. Try turning off down this side road."

They were closing in on an unpaved road that led toward the river. Rick made a sudden turn and the flashy coupe careened off the pike and sped down the dirt track. The big sedan followed, almost tipping over as it made the hairpin turn on two wheels.

Then, suddenly, the air was full of the unmistakable ping-ping of gunfire!

"Talk about highway robbery!" Scotty muttered angrily, hunkering down in the seat. "Those guys are shooting at us!"

Rick slammed down the accelerator again, giving the lighter-weight coupe all it had. It roared along the bouncy road, jostling him and Scotty. He gritted his teeth. "Looks like we're not going to get back to Spindrift Island as planned!"

Ping! Ping! Ping!

Just then, a bullet hit one of the coupe's back tires and the resulting blowout threw the car wildly out of control. The steering wheel flailed round and round, back and forth, as the coupe twisted and turned, and Rick could not keep hold of it.

"Watch out!" Scotty yelled as the coupe fishtailed directly at a huge old tree on the verge of the swampy shoreline.

Both boys tried to grab hold of the spinning steering wheel, but it was impossible to get the car back in control. The next moment brought a resounding crash as the coupe side-swiped the tree and seemed to spin around it as both Rick and Scotty were flung mightily out of the popped-open passenger door!

Add files

Comments

Mike DeBaptiste