The Revenge of the Mummy
by John Pirillo
Chapter Twenty One
Wells. Mister Herbert George Wells was a young man of only twenty-five, tall, longish hair, sideburns appropriate to his age, a thick mustache and a boyish smile that melted the hearts of any woman who met him stood silently, watching Big Ben get ready to count down to Midnight. Twelve strokes and he could leave the town to return to his beloved Paris once more with his good friend, Jules, who for some reason was late to show up.
Their one big thing they did together each holiday was to watch Big Ben count down to Midnight. It was their one way of cementing their childhood friendship which had blossomed into a partnership of outstanding virtue and value to each of them.
Both were quite strong family men, with Jules quite honorable and proud to be married at the ripe old age of twenty-three, and he long married since nineteen. Neither had children yet, and didn't plan on that happening soon. They had seen too much of the future to let that happen just yet. Too much of this world and so many others depending on them walking delicately along the time stream of their lives in this world.
That may sound mysterious to an outsider, unaware of their history, their past together, but these two men were not from this world, though they had chosen it to finally settle down within, to take the stress off their past adventures, which had not been fun at all, but terrifying and full of terror enough for many lifetimes.
"Wells!" Came a cheery voice.
Wells turned around with a welcome smile for his very handsome friend, Jules, who stood slightly shorter than he, but carried himself much taller. He was the true genius of the two. Though both were excellent writers in all the worlds they had lived, yet in this one, and many others, it was Jules who always shone on the scientific side of things.
"Well come, my dear man." Wells greeted, holding out his free hand. The other gripped his walking stick, which he didn't need normally, but ever since the last accident he had, the winter months caused some discomfort in walking, so he took it everywhere, even if not needed. In case.
Jules clasped Wells hand warmly, then gave him a hug and kiss on either cheek. "It is so good to be here, my good friend."
Wells crossed himself with a smile lighting his lips. "From your ears to Whomever is in charge of all this."
Jules laughed. "If you were to spout that in front of an English gentleman they would say Her Majesty, Queen Mary of Scots."
"And they would be wrong." Wells shot back, winking.
"Yes, they would." Jules said, then turned to eye Big Ben as its hands closed in on the final minute.
Jules felt the warmth of his companion next to him. They had shared so much together over the years. Their childhoods had been full of football and imagination, inventions and fantasies. Both were highly regarded authors in their respected countries...with Jules just finishing the autobiography of Captain Nemo, a man he respected greatly. The man had suggested he call his autobiography, "Twenty Leagues Beneath the Ocean," but Jules felt it would not be powerful enough for such a good man with such a large vision and had instead named it "Twenty Thousand Leagues Beneath the Sea."
Wells, on the other hand, had recorded some of their adventures of late in his latest novel, "The Invisible Man," which was based on the life of Professor Langdon, and so much more interesting than the fantasies they normally wrote. Who would have thought humanity would ever grasp the finer points of Tesla physics and chemistry like the Professor had.
His thoughts were shattered by the clang of Big Ben, shattering the calm and quiet of the snow-flurried night.
"Two." Jules said.
"Three." Wells went next.
"Four." Jules whispered.
Bong. Bong. Bong. Twelve times the mighty, majestic chime of Big Ben rang across London and all its sprawling buildings and housings. People, still up, scurried to get home. Taxi drivers rushed to get to the local pubs before they closed. Sailors kissed their Midnight Angels goodbye and hurried to get back to their s hips for a few hours sleep before the morning tweet called them from their hammocks to work on the decks and sails of the merchant ships they sailed.
A brisk breeze hammered at their backs, sorting soft piles of snow into tiny flurries that danced around their legs and feet.
Both men shrugged their shawls more tightly about their throats and tightened the top of their over cloaks.
The clock stopped chiming and the two men turned to look at each other.
"You think we will succeed this time, Wells?"
"We can only try. The last one that got away...well..."
"Yes. But we can't let what happened there, happen here. This is our new home now, Wells."
Jules considered his words and nodded, his eyes stern at the thought of what they had been pursuing and facing each and every spare moment of their lives.
As they lapsed into quiet a very tall gentleman with a quite beautiful young woman strolled past. For a moment the tall gentleman sniffed the air, as if sensing something out of the normal, and then eyed them thoughtfully. But since they presented no immediate threat or danger to him and his lady, he continued on.
"That was strange." Wells said.
"Did you not recognize him, Wells?"
"Not really. Not much for remembering faces."
"That was Lord Graystone, the Jungle Lord. The one who rules Fairie's jungles."
Wells turned to eye the very tall man and his lady as they took a turn. "Well, he is even more powerful looking than you described."
"He is said to have the strength of a bull ape."
Wells laughed. "No man could possibly have that much strength."
Jules didn't laugh, he turned back, his eyes on several merchant ships slipping into the docks on the Thames. "Now there's something we haven't looked at closely enough."
Wells turned to eye the Thames as well. "You think maybe this one is not averse to liquid as the others?"
"Many worlds, many choices. Infinite Worlds, infinite choices." Jules said.
"You heard about the murders?"
"What are we going to do about it?"
Jules began walking away. Wells followed, using his walking stick to take the weight of his sore leg. "Yet." Jules finished.