Uchronic Tales: The Studio Spectre

By W. Peter Miller

Clark Tyler returns to the Uchronic past in another exciting novella also featuring an exciting new hero, The Jade Monk.

The set of Triumph Pictures latest epic is threatened when accidents and tension plagues the set of starlet Fay Reynolds' newest picture, The Mayan Mummy.

Action, thrills, and double crosses careen across the silver screen and it is up to Clark Tyler and his new friends, Kendo Foster and the mysterious Jade Monk, to solve the case and save the studio.

The Studio Spectre is action in the classic pulp hero style and adventure in the tinseltown in the 1930s.

Clark Tyler is also featured in the other Uchronic Tales novellas, The Zeppelin, and The Horn.

• Language: English
• Publisher: W. Peter Miller
• Release date: Dec 11, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301555215

W. Peter Miller

W. Peter Miller is a film editor and author living in Southern California. Recent works include "Uchronic Tales: The Horn", "Uchronic Tales: The Zeppelin", “The Studio Specter” in Green Lama Vol. One - available from Airship 27 and through Amazon and Indy Planet. Ancient work includes “The AADA Road Atlas and Survival Guide: The West Coast” from Steve Jackson Games.

Book preview

UCHRONIC TALES:

THE STUDIO SPECTRE

by

W. Peter Miller

Copyright 2012 by W. Peter Miller

Smashwords Edition

Uchronic Tales: The Studio Spectre

Featuring The Jade Monk and Clark Tyler

This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, places, organizations, and events portrayed in this book are fictional, or used in a fictitious manner.

Published by the Uchronic Press

Visit us at: UchronicTales.com and docsavagetales.blogspot.com

The Studio Spectre is © 2012 W. Peter Miller

Cover Art is © 2012 Mike Fyles

All Rights Reserved

Copy Edited by Erica Snow

Typeset by Matt Drake

Support New Pulp Publishers

http://www.newpulpfiction.com/

Uchronic Tales – Stories that exist in a timeline that is

almost like our own—except for the people and events that

never existed in our world—events that forced changes

to our chronology. Here you will find heroic adventures,

outlandish science, ferocious alchemy, mystic forces, and an

alternate history just slightly larger than our own.

THE STUDIO SPECTRE

Chapter One

The Mayan Mummy

January 14, 1939

The walls of the tomb dripped with dew and were draped with spider-webs and fear. Dim light revealed little save the slow crawl of a tarantula. The creature reached a carved stone sarcophagus in the center of the dank chamber.

The scraping of boots disturbed the ancient silence. The hairy spider scurried out of view. Light appeared in the entry—torchlight that danced through the eons of cobwebs that blocked the portal. A bold silhouette cast its shadow on the webs; a woman’s form that held the torch in one hand and a high caliber revolver in the other. The shadow paused.

The chamber walls were stone, carved with the mysterious glyphs of the Mayan people. The intruder threw her torch through the webs. The strands sparked and sizzled.

The woman stepped through the sparkling portal. She paused in the dramatic light flickering from the torch at her feet. Her shapely figure wore tight khaki pants that pegged into black leather boots. Her white blouse was snug in all the right places and her short blonde hair was tucked under a pith helmet.

Her gaze was drawn to the intricate carvings on the stone casket. She ran her hands lovingly over them and smiled a perfect smile.

You are finally mine, she said, and bent down to look into the eyes of the sarcophagus. The Queen of the Mayan Empire is mine.

A low moan seemed to emanate from the very rock. The woman’s smile cracked and her eyes darted around the room. The moan grew louder, shriller. Then it suddenly stopped. The woman calmed slightly.

Then there was a sound like a low wind. The adventuress’s hair blew back and she screamed, spinning wildly about. She fired the gun repeatedly, emptying the cylinder.

CUT!

The woman explorer continued to scream angrily. She whirled around and violently threw the gun at the faux stone wall.

Where are you? she shrieked. Her expression was feral, out of control.

I SAID CUT! the director yelled. He pushed the cameraman aside and ran onto the temple set. He was a smartly dressed, handsome man in his early thirties. He held a script in his hands and ran up to the woman putting his hands on her shoulders. She jumped away. He looked into her wild eyes and said, Fay… It’s OK. Really. There’s nothing here.

She looked at him as if he had just slapped her. After a moment, she ran through the cobwebs and off the set, sobbing.

The man threw his script to the ground in frustration and chased after her. Fay! Fay!

He followed her through the cobwebbed opening and out of sight. The film crew stood there, dumbfounded. After a moment, a man with a clipboard stepped into the tomb and turned to the film crew. He said, That’s a wrap, everybody Call is 8 AM tomorrow, rushes will be at lunch.

Fay Reynolds, the actress in the explorer’s costume, was sobbing with her head on the makeup table. Fay was the biggest thing in Hollywood. The tabloids called her, This season’s ‘It Girl’. Fay hit the big-time fast and hadn’t had time to look back. But something was troubling her now.

Something dark and strange that had shaken her deep in her soul.

There was a light knock and she looked up. Even in tears she was a knockout Go away, she said softly.

The door opened. The director peeked in. Can I come in?

Fay looked at him. No. He smiled and her face softened a little.

Alright, she said.

The Mayan Mummy director, Freddy Dmytryk, entered Fay’s dressing room. Dmytryk pulled up a chair and sat next to her. He took her hand in his and said, I don’t know what is happening, but I promise that I will keep you safe. There is nothing to fear…

Nothing to fear! Fay shrieked. You can’t tell me it’s nothing because it’s real. You’ve heard the rumors. There is something… wrong here. There’s a presence. I felt it.

He looked deep into her eyes and that’s when it hit him like a ton of bricks. He’d never felt this way before. He had dated a long series of starlets and made many of their careers. He had helped actress after actress get leading roles—in his films and in his bed, but he never felt anything but a longing for the next one. That feeling was now gone.

He sighed deeply at the realization. He didn’t notice, but she