THE REVENGE OF SOLOMON GRUNDY
Part 1: Grundy is Loose!
Not real life – only a weird distortion of it – Solomon Grundy is said to have been created by the strange chemical reaction of sizzling sunlight beating down on the decayed vegetation of soggy swampland…
"Impossible!", said scientists. Well, maybe it was! But before long, a criminal band followed a new chief – Solomon Grundy!
Soon – too soon – an entire nation was trembling before the ominous onslaught of a raging colossus of crime who couldn't be stopped by bullets.
Finally trailed to the Petrified Forest by indomitable Green Lantern, a truly titanic battle ensued…
Bullets couldn't kill him – jails couldn't hold him – only the emerald energy of Green Lantern had any effect on Solomon Grundy…
And to this day, that vision of terror is still trapped in a bubble of emerald energy!
From a UP News article by staff writer Gardner F. Fox
A storm raged overhead in the Petrified Forest. Within his emerald prison, Solomon Grundy brooded, his crude subhuman thoughts, as ever, on revenge. "Some day–" he thought, "get out – destroy enemy – Green Lantern – some day! Cannot kill me – live forever – must come time when am free! Then – kill – Green Lantern!"
The time came much sooner than he expected, as a bolt of lightning blazed directly upon the bubble of energy that held him captive, and shattered it with a deafening crash and a whiff of ozone. Grundy let out a yell of triumph. "Free! Free to go after Green Lantern! Free to take his body between my hands and crush it! FREE!"
He set forth upon his quest, directed by a sinister non-human instinct, heading eastward. Mile after mile, city after city, state after state, forever forward, he lumbered implacably on and on.
Thousands of miles away, at the New York City headquarters of the Justice Society of America, the tall blond Green Lantern waited for his comrades to arrive. He had come much too early for the scheduled meeting, but reflected that that was better than arriving late. The others, he thought, should be along any minute–
There was a knock at the door. "That must be some of the boys now", he said to himself as he went to answer the knock, "though I can't understand why they don't walk right in–"
He opened the door, and stared in astonishment. "YOU!", he exclaimed.
Some time later, the rest of the Justice Society arrived, to find the door standing ajar and no one inside. The Flash, who was first into the meeting room, stopped stock-still, his blue eyes wide in shock. The window was broken, and every bit of furniture had been thrown around and smashed by someone, or something, with titanic strength. Dr. Mid-Nite, at his heels, said, "Whew! Someone had a terrific fight in here – but who?"
Wonder Woman, the last to arrive, counted noses and observed, "We're all here – all except Green Lantern!"
Johnny Thunder, inquisitive as always, tried the radio and found that it still worked. As he was turning the dial, he caught the end of a news flash. "–on the alert! Police warnings have been flashed to all states! Grundy – that inhuman menace to mankind – has escaped! Warning – Solomon Grundy is on the loose!"
Six pairs of eyes met. Six hearts sank. All shared the same dread thought. It was Hawkman, the JSA chairman, who voiced it first. "Maybe Grundy was here!"
"–And got Green Lantern?", replied Flash with a shudder. "It's possible, but I'd hate to think–"
It was Johnny who noticed the obvious. Pointing to an enormous muddy smear on the carpet, he swallowed hard and called, "Hey fellas! Lo-o-ook! It's Grundy's muddy footprint! That proves it! He was here – and he got Green Lantern!"
Dr. Mid-Nite refused to draw the obvious conclusion. "I can't believe our friend is dead!," he said resolutely. "I – I won't believe it!" Then, squaring his shoulders, he continued, "Well, come on! Let's go after Grundy! Maybe – maybe we'll be in time!"
With profound sympathy in his voice, Flash said, "We know how you feel, Dr. Mid-Nite…but we have no clues yet." He spoke to convince himself as well as the Doctor, for Green Lantern was his closest friend.
"But we will find clues!" Mid-Nite insisted. "We'll pursue Solomon Grundy until we finish him – even if it costs us our lives!"
Privately Flash agreed whole-heartedly, but his logical mind and scientific training told him it was no use running off without any hints as to possible direction.
Just then Wonder Woman called their attention to the radio again. "Boys," she said, "there's something coming in – about where Solomon Grundy has been – maybe this will furnish the clues we need!"
The radio squawked, "Solomon Grundy wrecked several houses going through Harford. Grundy then blasted through Dander; in Carver he has been ruining farm crops in a fit of rage! He streaked through Alcona, leaving a path of destruction behind, and was later observed in Lynneville! "
Hawkman, the group's strategist, swiftly plotted the points. Grundy appeared to be rampaging in a widening spiral, which meant that if each of them took one of the towns and cast outward from it, they had equal chances of catching up with him. He explained this in a few words, and then said, "Harford – here I come!"
The Atom, the youngest, smallest and feistiest team member, said, "I'll go to Lynneville. There may be a clue there that will lead to him!"
"Alcona for me!", said Flash, claiming the farthest point because everyone knew he could cover the most ground.
"I'll take Dander–", said Johnny Thunder.
"–While I cover Carver!", Dr. Mid-Nite finished.
"It is understood then!", said Hawkman, speaking officially. "No matter what the personal cost – no matter what perils lie ahead – Solomon Grundy must be crushed!"
"Right!", exclaimed the Flash. "Let's go, gang!"
"Where do I go, Hawkman?", asked Wonder Woman.
"You remain right here," the chairman said. "Solomon Grundy may return – new clues may come in – it's important that one of us remain. And now – goodbye!"
Part 2: Hawkman
The town of Regis, not far from Harford, was too small for two newspapers – or so Eddie Mark, owner of the fledgling Regis Herald, and his father, the owner of the established Courier, both insisted. The latest incident in their bitter feud had Eddie seething. "Rib me, will he?", he snarled in the direction of, more than to, the elderly man who ran the Herald's printing presses. "I'll show him I can run a paper better than he can! The old fogey is years behind the times!"
Seating himself at his desk, he continued, "Wait'll he sees my latest editorial! I'll make him look as silly as his old-fashioned policies!"
"But, Eddie", the printer protested. "He's your father!"
"Don't you start that now!", Eddie shouted. "He's my father, and his Regis Courier has been in our family for years – and I'm supposed to follow in his footsteps! Well, I won't! I'm going to make a success of my paper in spite of his smashing editorials against it!"
As he ran a new sheet of paper into his typewriter and began feverishly pounding the keys, unaware that the printer had left the room and someone else had entered, he continued in a gloating tone, "The Herald has outstripped the Courier in news-gathering, in smart up-to-the-minute editorials and in circulation! Before long, the Courier will have to quit!"
"The Courier will have to quit even sooner than that, Eddie," said a too-familiar voice – his father's voice – from behind him. "It looks as though your cheap sensational tricks have paid off!"
Eddie whipped around in his chair. "Cheap? That's showmanship! Good business!"
"I'm ashamed of you," the older man continued. "A real newspaperman doesn't run a scandal sheet."
"You're jealous", Eddie retorted, "because I scooped you on the graft exposé and hotel fires! No wonder you're losing money!"
So intent were the two men on their bitter quarrel that they did not hear the steady thud of ponderous feet, nor the unhuman deep voice that growled, "Somewhere somebody must answer my questions!" They had no idea that they were in imminent mortal danger until a monstrous dead-white shape clad in torn and frayed garments burst through the door and the deep voice rumbled, "Is he here?"
"What!", snapped Eddie, more annoyed at the interruption than frightened at the cause of it. "Is who here? This is a newspaper office!"
Even now, the elder Mark could not resist getting in one last jab at his son's expense. "Newspaper office?", he scoffed. "What a joke!"
"No patience with jokes!", snarled the monster, seizing Eddie's typewriter and crushing it between his bare hands. "You tell me what you want or I put your head between my hands!"
The senior Mark, getting a good look at the creature, gasped in horror. "He – I recognize him! It's Solomon Grundy! Run, son – run for your life!"
"You know me? Then you tell me where–" Grundy seized the older man in his hands and lifted him effortlessly off the floor, squeezing his ribcage until he cried out in pain.
Eddie, all thoughts of their quarrel forgotten, instantly flew to his father's defense. "Let my dad alone!", he cried, pounding futilely on the monster with his bare fists.
"You dare challenge me?", growled Grundy. "I SMASH!"
Not far away, Hawkman picked up Grundy's trail at a ruined farmhouse. The woman who owned the farm, while comforting her weeping young child as best she could, told him, "It was Grundy all right. Because I couldn't answer his questions, he wrecked my home – and then went on toward Regis–"
"Thank you," said Hawkman, taking to the air again. Very soon he sighted the town and swooped low through its streets, looking for signs of his quarry. "I hope I find Grundy before he inflicts too much damage," he said to himself.
Just then a human figure was hurled through a shattered door and into the street. "Uh-oh," remarked Hawkman. "Looks as though I've found Grundy and damage!" He alighted and went to the aid of the dark-haired young man.
Eddie Marks recognized his succorer as Hawkman, and gasped out urgently, "Inhuman monster – murdering my father – in the office – never mind me!"
"That's all I want to know!", said Hawkman, laying Eddie gently back down before he plunged ferociously through the door, mace at the ready.
Inside, Solomon Grundy held the senior Mark's body over his head, prepared to hurl it violently against the wall. Hawkman brought his mace down with all his strength on the back of the monster's head, hoping to bring a quick end to the fight and discover what Grundy had done with Green Lantern. The monster didn't even blink, and completed the action of throwing the old man toward the wall.
Hawkman intercepted the victim's flight in the nick of time, and as he did so, Grundy got a good look at him. "You wear queer clothes – like Green Lantern – who are you?", the shambling thing asked.
"One thing at a time, Grundy!", replied Hawkman. First I'll get this chap to safety–" Suiting actions to words, he deposited the old man in the street beside his son. Observing that although both were bruised and battered, neither one was severely injured, he returned to the fray. "And now to answer your question, my name is Hawkman. I'm Green Lantern's friend – and a member of the Justice Society of America!"
"And you want to match strengths with me, eh?" Grundy put the question in the only terms he understood. "If you are Green Lantern's friend, you are my enemy! DIE!" And he seized Hawkman by the throat in a powerful clammy grip that tightened remorselessly, choking him.
Hawkman let his nth metal belt suspend him in mid-air while he brought both legs up for a savage kick to Grundy's head. This had the intended effect of breaking the monster's grip and allowing Hawkman to dodge out of grasping range. "That does it!", he gasped, his chest heaving as he drew in great gulps of badly needed air.
Grundy picked up the desk as though it were made of balsawood and flung it at Hawkman, snarling, "I squash you like fly!"
Hawkman dodged the hurtling desk in the nick of time. "Holy Hannah!", he observed. "He's got the power of a runaway locomotive!"
Still gasping for breath, his nearly-bare upper body streaming with sweat from the tremendous effort, Hawkman plunged back into the fight, whacking Grundy on the side of the head with his trusty mace. "What did you do with Green Lantern?", he cried.
But Hawkman had underestimated Grundy's speed. The monster's arms whipped around his waist and held him like steel bands. "Too much time already wasted–" growled Grundy.
His ribs creaking under the pressure Grundy applied, Hawkman struggled desperately to free himself. The two powerful bodies, locked in their deadly embrace, flailed wildly around the room, finally crashing through the rear brick wall. For long moments both figures lay still. Then, slowly, one of them rose and shambled away. The other did not stir.
Eddie and his father, braving the scene to learn the outcome, rounded the corner of the building to see Hawkman lying in a motionless heap. "Is he–?", the older man wondered aloud.
Just then Hawkman groaned, and struggled to his feet, every muscle in his body screaming in protest.
"He's alive!", cried Eddie in relief. "And he might as well know that Solomon Grundy did some good!"
"Yes, Hawkman," said Eddie's father, putting his arm across his son's shoulders. "Eddie and I are uniting our newspapers!"
Hawkman waited for the explanation while he caught his breath and regained a little strength. It was not long in forthcoming.
"My stubbornness was really admiration for my dad," said Eddie. "I wanted to show him that I was good enough to be his son!"
"And I kept needling Eddie", said his father, "because I wanted him to make good – in spite of opposition!"
"Good luck!", Hawkman wished them both, as his nth metal wings beat his way back into the skies. "And now for a return bout with Solomon Grundy!"
Part 3: Dr. Mid-Nite
Later that day, at the kitchen door of the huge Chase mansion some distance from Carver, the housemaid handed the young son of the family a picnic basket. She was dark-haired and rather pretty, but with a sly expression on her face. "Here's your lunch, Jimmy," she told the boy. "Go with your friends into the woods. There's a nice clearing there, where you can play marbles."
As soon as the Chase boy was out of sight, the housemaid called, "The coast is clear – come on, Joe!"
From a bush emerged a smallish man with a thin vulpine face, half concealed by a red plaid cap pulled low over his narrow beady eyes. "House empty now?", he asked.
"Yes", the woman replied. "The Chases are away for the weekend, and I sent Jimmy off on a picnic lunch."
"Great!", said the foxy little man. "It shouldn't take me long to crack the living room safe. Then, baby, we'll be on Easy Street."
The woman directed her companion to move a particular painting aside on the living room wall, revealing the safe. He bent to his task, listening intently to the tumblers. "Are you sure nobody'll walk in?", he asked.
"That's what I took this job for," said the housemaid, puffing away on a cigarette. "I watched the boss's every movement."
Deep in the woods, a distorted thing that looked like a hideous caricature of a man stumped along, snarling to itself. "First Green Lantern – then Hawkman – members of the Justice Society. I hate them – All of them!"
Presently the monster came across three young boys in a clearing, playing marbles. They looked up with the fearless innocence of the young, to see only a looming stranger who might be interested in joining their game. "Golly! He sure is big!", said one of the boys. "Want to play marbles, mister?", asked the second.
"Marbles? What is that?", the hulking monster asked.
The boys tried to show him and to explain the rules, but Grundy's huge misshapen hands were unable to handle the smooth glass marbles, and they laughed at his clumsy attempts to emulate their skill. "You're funny!", said the first boy between whoops of laughter.
"Funny?" growled Grundy. "I don't know that word." In frustration he crushed the marbles to powder, exclaiming, "Bah! Too little – no good!"
"You big gorilla!", cried the third boy, Jimmy Chase. "Those marbles were mine!"
Grundy knew when he'd been insulted. "Gorilla?", he rumbled. "I don't like you to say that! I don't like you!" And he lunged for the boys, who ran away screaming in fright. They were faster than he was and they knew the woods well, so they soon eluded him.
Nearby, Dr. Mid-Nite pelted down the road from Carver, his goggles trained on the ground to pick up any trace of Grundy's passage. Presently he passed a farmer hiding behind a buckboard, which was pointed in the other direction. "Dr. Mid-Nite!", called the farmer. "Gosh, I'm glad to see you! I just saw that Grundy guy – and I'm scared!"
"Grundy?" asked Mid-Nite. "He's the savage brute I'm after! Which way did he go?"
The farmer pointed off to Mid-Nite's left, saying, "He turned off and lurched into those woods!"
"Destination – Grundy!", Mid-Nite exclaimed, and followed the obvious swath of broken and trampled shrubbery. Behind him, he heard the farmer urging his team to "Gee-yap, and let's get out of here!"
Shortly, the trampled path led Mid-Nite to the clearing and the crushed marbles. "Only that skulking scarecrow has the necessary strength to do that," the doctor mused.
Then, noticing Grundy's huge heavy footprints in the dirt, he began tracking them on down the trail. They led him presently to a huge mansion, and he caught a glimpse of Grundy just outside. But before he could quite catch up with the swampland shambler, he heard voices from inside the house. "Hurry!", said a man's voice, high and shrill with a touch of panic. "We gotta scram with this stuff before anyone wises up!"
"Well, look at that," said Mid-Nite, smiling to himself at the irony of his using that expression, for without his special infrared goggles he was completely blind by daylight. "Can it be that Grundy has a couple of crooks helping him? Has he taken to robbery again?" As he burst into the house, he continued thinking aloud. "It doesn't seem logical – but this is no time for questions!" He found himself in an elaborate living room, filled with antique furniture, fancy bricabrac, and paintings. A cut-glass chandelier hung from the ceiling, and on one wall a fire burned in a double-sided fireplace. Apple wood, he noted casually, identifying the pleasant tang of the smoke.
Across the room and on the far side of a coffee table, a thin foxy-faced man and a dark-haired, sly-looking woman stared at him. The man recognized him and pulled out a gun. "Dr. Mid-Nite!", he yelled.
Mid-Nite kicked the coffee table into the foxy man, knocking his aim askew as the gun went off. "It isn't polite to point", he said sternly, "especially with a gun!"
Crossing the room in a few swift strides, he stunned the man with a swift right cross. "Whether you're teamed up with Grundy or not, you're still a crook!", he observed, somewhat unnecessarily.
Lurching out of the shadows, Grundy snarled, "I hear noises – I hear my name – HA!" And he seized Dr. Mid-Nite in a steel-vise grip. "Another masked man – another enemy!"
Lifting Mid-Nite with effortless ease, he hurled him into the open fireplace, shouting, "BURN!"
Mid-Nite reacted with the split-second timing of a trained athlete, silently blessing all the hours he spent to keep himself in top shape. He somersaulted over the flames and landed on his feet on the hearth in the other room. Spinning on his heel, he kicked a flaming log back into Grundy's chest. "This is the second kick I've had coming today!", he joked. Then he leaped back through the fireplace and rushed Grundy.
"Enough of this foolishness!", snarled Grundy, tearing the chandelier from the ceiling and bringing it viciously down on Mid-Nite's left forearm. Mid-Nite felt a bone crack, and he gasped with the intense pain. Drawing on all his reserves of courage and strength, he fumbled with his right hand at his belt, and flung down one of his patented blackout bombs. In the thick darkness, in which he could see while his adversary could not, he intended to tackle Grundy again.
Grundy, however, had had enough. "Too much time wasted already," he growled as he flailed his way through the murk and out of the house. "There is someone I still must find!"
Mid-Nite was in no shape to follow him. Under cover of the darkness, he improvised a splint for his broken arm, and hid the splint under the sleeve and glove of his costume. Fortunately, it seemed to have been only a greenstick fracture, which would take less time to heal than a complete break. He wouldn't be much use in a fight until it was healed, though, and he had no intention of letting anyone else know that. Particularly not the pair of crooks whom he still had to apprehend.
As the blackout bomb's effect began to dissipate, he heard the woman urging her companion to "Try again, Joe! That terrible blackness is disappearing. Now we can see where we're heading–"
Dr. Mid-Nite stepped out in front of them, bluffing for all he was worth. "I see where you're heading – to the local jail!"
The crooked couple were so cowed that they offered little resistance. Just then Jimmy and his friends emerged from his bedroom, where they had been hiding under the bed. "Gee, wow, it's Dr. Mid-Nite!", he exclaimed. "I'm Jimmy Chase, and I live here. Anything we can do to help you?"
"As a matter of fact, there is," he replied. And with the boys' assistance, the two crooks were soon securely bound in chairs.
"Thanks, Jimmy, for helping me tie up those thugs," said the doctor.
Now that the danger was over, Jimmy admitted, "We were plenty scared when that big ugly guy chased us into my house – but we weren't worried no more when you tackled him!"
Smiling to hide the pain that still throbbed in his arm, Mid-Nite said, "It's lucky in a way that the trail led here – or I never would have come upon those safe robbers…pure coincidence! I've got to go now, but the police will be here shortly to pick them up. You be sure to tell them all about it."
"Roger, wilco!", said Jimmy. "Good luck, Doc!"
Part 4: The Flash
Police chief Alvin McGurk, veteran lawman of the town of Moosehead, came home in the late afternoon to find his wife of forty years sobbing into a lace handkerchief. He knew then that she must have heard the same bad news he had just received. "Don't cry, Martha," he said, feigning a cheerfulness he did not feel. "We'll get along!"
She replied, "After forty-five years of serving Moosehead as Chief of Police, they want Spencer Blade to take your place. It's not right! You can still do the job better than anyone!"
"Blade is a young man, and I'm getting on in years," McGurk said. "But I didn't think they'd retire me yet – I-I'm a cop – an active one! I'm not ready to sit back on a pension!"
Just then they heard every church bell in town ringing, and it wasn't a Sunday. Then the fire siren, too, went off. That could mean only one thing – a major emergency. Kissing his wife goodbye, McGurk headed out into the street. The first person he saw was Spencer Blade, armed with a rifle and loaded for bear. "What is it, man?" McGurk asked.
"Solomon Grundy's loose in the center of town," Blade told him. "He's destroying everything!"
Indeed, almost immediately Grundy came rumbling down the street toward them, smashing fire hydrants, crumpling cars and trucks like tinfoil, breaking off signal lights like cornstalks. "Run for your lives!,' Blade yelled to the people of Moosehead. He and McGurk stood their ground. "A couple of 30-30 slugs will stop him!," Blade asserted.
"I hope so," McGurk replied.
As soon as Grundy came within range, Blade started blasting. Grundy paid no attention, shrugging the heavy rifle rounds off as though they were less than mosquito bites. Blade swallowed hard. "I've filled him with a pound of lead – and still he keeps coming!" His nerve broke, and he flung the useless rifle away. "Bullets won't stop him!", he cried. "He's not human! Run! We haven't got a chance!"
Everyone else ran. McGurk ran, too, but not away – toward his car. If he could get up enough speed and ram it into Grundy, he might – just might – be able to stop him. He didn't give much for his chances of surviving this course of action, but it was the town's only hope.
Some miles to the east, the Fastest Man Alive zipped along, following the swath of destruction Grundy had left behind him. "I hope I can reach him," he thought aloud, "before he cuts loose with another destructive rampage." Signs of Grundy's passage grew fresher, including a crushed tractor that still spewed steam from a smashed radiator. The Flash knew he was on the right track, and raced even faster.
In the center of Moosehead, Chief McGurk drove his car straight toward Grundy. "I'm still police chief of this town," he thought, "and I'll protect the citizens if it means losing my life!"
The car hurtled into Grundy and crumpled like a child's toy. McGurk was catapulted out of his seat and into the air. Grundy only sneered. Catching the hapless police chief in midair, he exclaimed, "Fool! I break you in two!"
Suddenly a red-and-blue blur of motion caught up a stop sign and hurled it at Grundy's chest. The monster grunted, and dropped the man he was holding. "Pah!", he said. "Another puny idiot in colored costume!"
"Looks like I got here just in time," said the Flash. "Now my troubles begin–"
He was only too right, as Grundy ripped a tire from the shattered car, pulling the whole wheel off in the process, and threw it straight at his head. Flash, taken by surprise by the suddenness and viciousness of the move, failed to duck in time. "For the Justice Society, I have but one message – DEATH!", thundered the monster.
Flash's head was spinning and aching, but he got back to his feet – just in time to see Grundy pick up the whole car and hurl it at him. With all his super-speed, it missed him only by inches. Flash scolded himself severely. "Taking one's eyes off Grundy – for even a second – can spell disaster!"
Then he cut loose with a flurry of super-speed blows, none of which seemed to do more than to get Grundy angry. That, however, was Flash's whole idea. "Got to lead you – away from town," he gasped breathlessly, "–not let anyone else get hurt!"
It took every erg of energy in the Flash's lean wiry frame to stay just out of reach of Grundy, taunting him, leading him further and further away from the town, slipping in for another flurry of blows and then away again before the monster could close and crush him. If Grundy ever did get his hands on him, Flash knew, he would be broken like a twig.
At length, nearly exhausted, Flash found himself trapped on the edge of a sheer cliff. There was nowhere left for him to run, and little chance of getting by Grundy in the other direction. Grundy's subhuman cunning showed him what to do. He picked up a large rock and hurled it into the Flash's ribs, knocking him over the cliff. His mocking laughter echoed in Flash's ears as he fell….
Back in Moosehead, the townspeople gathered outside the hospital, waiting for news of Chief McGurk. The news, when it came, was good. He was alive and expected to recover fully, and the mayor had asked to see him.
In McGurk's hospital room, the mayor removed his hat. "Chief McGurk," he said, "I – as mayor – want you to know the town can never repay your courageous stand against Solomon Grundy. You're still our police chief – as long as you want the job!"
McGurk was deeply touched. "Thank you", he replied humbly. "I am honored."
And the Flash? He clung to a branch halfway down the cliffside, cursing himself for carelessness and overconfidence. "Super-speed helped me break my fall," he observed, "but by the time I get back up there, Grundy will be gone. I'll have to take up his trail again!"
Part 5: Johnny Thunder
Evening found Johnny Thunder walking along a road outside Dander. He reflected, "The radio said Solomon Grundy was in Dander and that he came this way. Am I scared? Am I? YES!"
Presently he came to a crossroads and stood puzzling over which road to take. One signpost read, "Meriden", and the other said, "Zenith". Both roads looked equally well traveled. A blonde and a brunette watched him from the shadows. "That's one of them," said the blonde. "Let's go!"
Sashaying up to Johnny, the blonde threw her arms around his neck from one side, while the brunette did the same from the other. "Oooh! You handsome brute!", cooed the blonde. "I'll bet you're going after Solomon Grundy!"
"What's your name, cutie?", giggled the brunette, ruffling Johnny's short blond hair with her fingers.
Johnny, flustered by all this feminine attention, stammered, "Johnny Blunder – I mean Thunder!"
"Grundy went that way!", said the blonde, pointing to the left. "That's right – to Meriden!", the brunette confirmed, pointing in the same direction.
"Thank you very much, ladies, yes indeed!", said Johnny. "Meriden, you say? By a queer twist of fate, I just remembered that I have a very important appointment in Zenith! It's a matter of life and death – mine!" And he started briskly down the road toward Zenith.
The two girls stared after him with perplexed and slightly vexed expressions. The blonde said, "Too bad – we did our best!" The brunette replied, "Let's go along and watch the fun anyhow!" They hastened after Johnny and soon caught up with him. Each one took him by an arm. "He's so strong!", said the blonde. "What muscles!", exclaimed the brunette, feeling Johnny's biceps. Johnny looked smug. "After all," he said with a chuckle, "a member of the Justice Society has gotta be powerful – and – uh – fearless!"
The three of them proceeded down the road and into the town of Zenith, arm in arm in arm. "Since I'm not going to meet Grundy," Johnny thought, "I feel much braver now!" Aloud he boasted, "Ha! I'll wreck that Grundy ghoul with one hand!"
The brunette sighed, "My hero!"
"Don't worry," Johnny bragged. I'll tear him to ribbons, batter him to–" He broke off with a startled gulp. Around the corner came a trio of men. Two of them were ordinary thuggish-looking types, but the third – unhumanly tall, dead-white of skin, powerfully built – was obviously Grundy.
"I've been double-crossed!", cried Johnny. "What's he doing here?!?"
Then Johnny did one of the bravest things he had ever done in his life. He took a step forward and began milling his fists. I can’t let the Justice Society down, he thought. Aloud, he yelled a challenge. "Come on, I dare ya! Just take another step! Another – one more! Hit me – go ahead, I triple dare ya!"
The ghastly white-faced man hit him – once. Johnny sailed through the air and landed on his back, stunned, with visions of tweeting birds spinning before his eyes.
"Oh, look," mocked the brunette. "He's gone to sleep!"
"Tsk!", laughed the blonde. "If he takes a nap here, somebody's liable to sweep him away!"
Laughing in concert, the blonde dumped a bucket of cold water over Johnny's head, while the brunette squirted him with more water from a hose. "Stop that", said the blonde. "You'll drown him!"
"What makes you so sure?", asked the brunette.
"I'm not sure," the blonde answered. "I was just making conversation, dearie."
"Oh – good!", said the brunette, leaving the hose trained on Johnny. "Let's gossip!"
Johnny coughed, spluttered, and came to. "Glub – pardon me, but – glub – girls – please! Turn off the rain and I'll capture Solomon Grundy for each of you!"
"This we must see!". said the blonde.
"Yes, sir!", bragged Johnny. "I'll tear Grundy limb from limb and I'll give you each a piece!" Then he gasped, "What am I saying? Grundy is the strongest man in the world!"
A man came racing down the street, yelling, "Run! Run! I just saw Solomon Grundy heading for the cereal factory on the edge of town!"
"Okay, Johnny, this is your chance – let's go!", said the blonde.
Johnny swallowed hard, but in front of two pretty girls he could hardly back down. He made his way to the cereal factory and waited outside. Presently the figure of Grundy shambled out the door.
"Here he comes now", Johnny said to himself. "Ohhh – if only I could learn to keep my big mouth shut!" He ran his tongue across dry lips that tasted of salt and fear.
The monster said, "Solomon Grundy kill funny-looking specimen of manhood–", and started for him.
"He calls me funny-looking!", exclaimed Johnny in annoyance. "Okay – that does it! If I gotta die, I might as well die a hero!" And he landed a straight left on the creature's jaw that sent him sprawling.
"Say, you aren't so tough!", Johnny said, accidentally speaking the magic words that controlled the Bahdnisian Thunderbolt. "I thought you'd put up a good fight–" And he tackled Grundy and began wrestling with him.
Overhead, the Thunderbolt popped into existence as Johnny tussled with Grundy. "I'll cure you, you big ham!", said Johnny. "That's a joke, son!" And he laughed aloud at his own wit.
Two men ran from the factory, brandishing guns. "Feed 'im lead!", shouted one of them.
"It's about time I made my bow," said the Thunderbolt, and he dove through the air, stunning the gunmen and knocking the guns from their hands. "Once over lightly!", the Thunderbolt laughed.
Johnny, meanwhile, let out a yell of pure horror. "I pegged his lulls off – lulled his pegs off–", he stammered.
"You pulled his legs off," said the Thunderbolt, coolly surveying the scene. "Only they aren't legs – they're stilts! You haven't got the real Solomon Grundy, Johnny!"
Now that he was a bit calmer, Johnny could see that it was true. The white skin was greasepaint, the clothes were heavily padded, and the unhuman height had been due to the wooden stilts that Johnny had pulled off. He felt a bit foolish, but also relieved.
One of the thugs explained the deception. "Everybody's so afraid of Grundy, we figured we'd cash in on it! So we made a phony Grundy and had no trouble taking what we wanted!"
"We'll turn in these thugs, Johnny," said the Thunderbolt, "and then I'll help you find the real Grundy."
"That's – fine", said Johnny, with a nervous gulp.
As Johnny and his Thunderbolt soared off into the night sky, the two girls looked after them with expressions of annoyance. "The crooks hired us to misdirect anybody looking for that fake Grundy," said the blonde, "and now we don't get paid!"
"Well, naturally," said the brunette. "Their firm is out of business – that Thunder is dopey, but he gets things done!"
Part 6: The Atom
In a Lambert City pool hall, that night, former underworld big shot Baldy Balsom was sounding off to some old colleagues, a tall lean man in a tan suit who sat beside him on the pool table, and a shorter man in plum who sat backwards on a chair, his arms crossed on the top of its back.. "They got th' nerve to say I'm washed up!", he sputtered indignantly. "Me – Baldy Balsom – who used to control an entire city!"
"But you wound up in jail, Baldy!", the thin man reminded him.
"So what?", sneered Baldy. Anybody's entitled to one mistake! Forget it – this time I got th' biggest deal ever set! Put in with me, an' you can't lose! We'll build up to the biggest mob of all time!"
"I not only guarantee you guys more dough than you can spend – but I promise there ain't a copper that'll lay a finger on ya!" He got up and went to the door.
"Prove it, Baldy – prove it!", scoffed the man in tan.
Baldy's proof lumbered in through the opened door – the huge, unhuman, monstrous figure of Solomon Grundy. Baldy's henchmen turned to run away. "Relax", said Baldy. "He's on our side!"
"Then we're with you, Baldy," said the shorter man. But where'd you get him?"
"I sent a man to track Grundy from Lynneville and bring him here," Baldy explained. "My pal Grundy is gonna make us rich!"
Most of this was lost on Grundy. He rumbled, "Yes, I help you – but you promised to help me find something! Do not forget!"
"Forget? Not me!", said Baldy. "But th' info you want costs dough – which you haven't got. So come with us and we'll show you you how you can get all th' money you need!"
Shortly afterward, Grundy ripped the door off a bank vault while the thugs watched. "Wow", cried the thin man in tan. "Th-think what those paws would do to a guy if he was mad at him!"
Baldy paid no attention, gleefully scooping up money and tossing it into a sack held by the short man in plum. "Yahoo!", he cried. "It's th' comeback trail for Baldy Balsom! Money! Money!"
Grundy grumbled in dissatisfaction. "I do my share – now do yours! Get me my information!"
Meanwhile, in the nearby town of Lynneville, the Atom's search attempts were running into trouble. A number of people, it seemed, had sighted Solomon Grundy, but no one wanted to talk about it, or even remember. They were all too afraid of Grundy, and of what he might do to them if they said anything.
Atom wandered down a road in the moonlight. "No one wants to tell me a thing," he complained. "Everybody's too badly frightened. How can I find out what happened to Green Lantern? I don't know where to turn-"
He sat down disconsolately on the running board of an abandoned car, to try to figure something out. The car had apparently been abandoned in such haste that the radio had been left on. "Flash!", it said. "The Lambert City Bank was broken into this evening–"
"Gee, that radio is noisy!," Atom remarked aloud. "Imagine a guy parking a car and leaving the radio on full blast–"
His attention was arrested by the next words. "The vault door was smashed to bits as though by a giant hand–"
"A giant hand?", the Atom exclaimed as he jumped to his feet and ran into the night. "It's only a hunch – but that could be the work of Grundy – wild goose chase or not – a hunch is a hunch! Next stop – Lambert City!"
Even as the Atom raced against time, Grundy and the Balsom gang completed their next strike. "That Justice Society! I will crush them – like this!", Grundy growled as he battered down the heavy iron door of a mansion on the outskirts of town.
"Okay, okay," Baldy said. "But first we want to get th' Baraboff Emeralds – get busy!"
"I got you the emeralds!", said Grundy as they made their way to the next target. "Now what else do you want before you get me my information? – And no lies!"
"No! No! Honest, Grundy!", Baldy protested, the irony of that statement completely lost on him. "One last job – an' I'll do whatever you ask! Just help me crack the safe of a shoe factory – they're meetin' a payroll in the mornin'–"
Atom's route into Lambert City happened to pass right by the ransacked mansion. He stopped to offer assistance to the security guard, who was just regaining consciousness after a savage blow to the head. "Grundy hit me," he told the Atom. "He's with some crooks – headed along the road toward the Lambert Shoe Factory–"
As far as the Atom could tell, the man had just been badly stunned. "You'll soon be all right," he told him reassuringly. "I'll leave you and head out after the others."
When he arrived at the shoe factory, he found that Grundy and Balsom had gotten there first. The heavy metal doors were crumpled and torn off their hinges, shredded, he thought, like a toy in a giant's hand. He whistled softly at the thought of what such strength could do to frailer substances, such as human flesh. Obviously, the place had already been robbed – but from the noises inside, he might be able to prevent the robbers from leaving. Cautiously, he crept up to a catwalk to get the advantage of height. As he jumped down upon them, the man in tan recognized him. "Huh? It's the Atom!"
Always nice to be recognized, the Atom thought. His leap caught Baldy's henchmen and knocked them both cold, one with each foot. "Wise guy, eh?", snarled Balsom, pulling a gun. "I'll fix your wagon–"
Atom cow-kicked upwards, knocking Balsom over and making him drop the gun. "Thanks for letting me know you were around–", he remarked.
Just then a huge powerful foot slammed him into the pile of bodies. "You like to kick, eh?", rumbled an unhumanly deep voice. "I also like to kick!"
The Atom gritted his teeth and gingerly got to his feet. Grundy's foot had caught him in the ribs, and it felt as if he might have broken one or two. But, he reflected grimly, the fight wasn't over yet–
In the clutter on the floor lay a heavy iron bar. The Atom seized it and ran forward, swinging it in a vicious arc. The metal bent around the back of Grundy's head, but Grundy didn't even seem to notice. "This – is – end!", roared Grundy, lunging for the mighty mite.
"Maybe," the Atom said, slinging a metal table at Grundy, which barely budged the swamp creature, "but you're still going to know you were in a fight!"
"Little fool–", Grundy growled as he swung a huge right fist that knocked the Atom clear across the room and completely out of it. Grundy lumbered over and surveyed his work with satisfaction. "Mmm," he rumbled. "Very still – quiet. He will lie there for long time. And now can no longer wait for Baldy's help – must find what I'm looking for myself–"
By and by the world stopped whirling and became less dark. The Atom pulled himself painfully to his feet, too keenly aware of his pounding head and aching ribs. "Grundy's gone," he remarked to himself, "but at least I stopped Baldy Balsom and his gang. The payroll is safe – but is Green Lantern?"
That, Baldy could not answer. He was too busy bemoaning his fate as the Atom marched him and his thugs off to jail. "Nobody ever comes back, I guess – nobody!", he lamented.
"Good men do," said the Atom, "but not criminals. Not even Solomon Grundy – we'll catch up to him yet!"
Part 7: Green Lantern
Green Lantern opened the door, and stared in astonishment. "YOU!", he exclaimed. Of all the faces he had expected to see, that of his stubby little sidekick, Doiby Dickles, was just about the last. "You shouldn't come here," he continued. "You know that!"
"I had to, Lantrin", said Doiby, his normally comical snub-nosed face set in what passed with him for a grim expression. "It's bad news – Solomon Grundy is loose!"
That put a different complexion on the matter. The tall Lantern put his arm around his little buddy's shoulders, drawing him into the room. " Solomon Grundy? How did you hear that?", he asked.
"A pal o' mine is one of them ham radio amachoors," Doiby explained. "He picked up a flash from a friend o' his out in Arizoney. Lantrin," he concluded earnestly, "we gotta do something!"
"No time to lose!", cried the Lantern, scooping Doiby up under his arm and casting a protective aura around them both with a casual thought. Then he smashed his way out the window, explaining, "Grundy will come after me. I want to meet him as soon as I can – to save others from harm."
As they flew off into the distance, Doiby found the breath to exclaim, "You sure took some shortcut! Wow!"
What the Lantern had not foreseen was that Solomon Grundy's tracking instinct would lead him directly to the last place he had been – the JSA meeting room. Finding the door open, the massive monster stalked inside, snarling, "Green Lantern is here. I have found him, across a continent. Green Lantern, I have come to kill you!" But no one was there, and Grundy's instincts told him he had missed his prey. "He ran away!", cried Grundy. "He thinks to cheat me of my revenge!" Unable to wreak destruction on the person of his hated adversary, Grundy took his frustration out on the meeting room, wrecking it with savage fury. Then he stalked off in search of his enemy, leaving the evidence for the arriving Justice Society members to find and misinterpret.
In a secret hideout, Green Lantern worked feverishly to set up and attune some special apparatus. He told Doiby that he needed to be alone.
"Y'mean I should go?", asked Doiby unhappily.
"Yes," said the Lantern, very gently. "I don't need you for a while. I've got some work to do. This special radio I built, in my capacity as Alan Scott, engineer, is going to come in handy."
Seeing that Doiby lingered, he continued to explain, "This radio is attuned not to sound waves, but to the mental wavelength of Solomon Grundy! With a little manipulation I should be able to follow his progress and locate him before he does too much damage…I hope!"
Curiosity satisfied for the nonce, Doiby withdrew and closed the door, leaving Alan alone with his apparatus. Presently, lights flickered on the face of the device. "Ahh – here it is!", the Lantern noted to himself. "I've caught his wavelength…these lights should tell me where he's been, and I can telephone the radio station…."
Through the day and far into the night he worked, plotting, calculating, and correcting, and calling in the results to his station until his voice was hoarse. The station relayed each report as it was received, and kept the Justice Society informed. They stayed hot on Grundy's trail, sometimes making contact, sometimes just missing him, never able to stop him. The Lantern heard those reports too, and concluded that he had to face Grundy alone. His calculations showed that if Grundy kept to his current path, he would be in State Park somewhere around five in the afternoon. He duly reported those findings, and then recharged his ring before setting off to meet Grundy.
The ring transported Green Lantern with the speed of thought to the wilds of State Park precisely at five. Racing through the woods, he thought, "That uncanny instinct of his – like the sense of direction of a homing pigeon – will eventually bring him to me! But I'll make it easier! I'll get to him first!"
Grundy was indeed plunging through the depths of the woods, rumbling happily to himself, "I'm getting nearer to him…nearer…."
At the brink of a high waterfall, their paths crossed. "Hah! At last!", roared Grundy. "Trail's end!", exclaimed the Lantern.
"Little man," Grundy snarled, "when this fight is over, only one of us will be alive!"
"I'll take the chance it will be me!", Green Lantern replied.
Even as he spoke these brave words, Grundy ripped a huge tree right out of the ground and whipped it around as though it were a toothpick, using the tangled roots to trap the Lantern. Alan, since his ring was useless against wood, ripped desperately at the roots to free himself before Grundy could get his hands on him. He knew that if that happened, he would be a goner.
Just in time, he freed himself and ducked, and Grundy's clutching hands met nothing but air. "Whew!", the Lantern sighed. "Much too close!"
Then, directed by his indomitable willpower, he sent a green energy fist hard against Grundy's chin. It rocked the monster backward, a little, but that was all. "That blow would have caved in a building," exclaimed Green Lantern, "but it hardly bothered him!" Evidently Grundy was still all but immune to the ring's emerald energy – not surprising, since the largest component of his pseudo-flesh was wood.
In desperation, the Lantern turned to more direct means of attack, using the ring's energy to propel himself forward and add greater force to the impact of his fists. "Only a powerhouse attack will work," he said aloud, "but I can't keep this pace forever–"
"And I can!", Grundy gloated.
Alan put every ounce of strength he had into each punch, staggering Grundy, but not able to subdue him. Suddenly Grundy writhed like a snake and grasped him around the waist, then threw his own ponderous weight backward, carrying them both over the edge of the falls. "GOT YOU!", roared Grundy triumphantly.
Together, they hurtled down the cascade of water, to land with shattering force on the bank at the bottom. The impact knocked the combatants apart. Green Lantern lay stunned, battered, and breathless, too spent to move. Grundy seized his chance, and raised a huge rock to brain the helpless hero. With the very last of his strength and will, Alan used the power of his ring to disintegrate the rock.
Grundy leaped upon him with a subhuman snarl. "Since you prefer that I kill you with my bare hands, I do so!"
The Lantern's strength was now utterly drained. "Can't move…finished…", he gasped.
The merciless monster grabbed him by the throat, dragged him into the icy mountain stream, and forced his head underwater, the cruel grip relentlessly tightening. From some unknown depths of his being, Alan drew the strength to mount a feeble resistance, but he could do nothing against Grundy's unhuman might. Within minutes, he realized grimly, he would be dead, either strangled by those gnarled hands, or drowned. His lungs burned with the need for air, and his heart was pounding. His struggles grew weaker and weaker as consciousness and life began to ebb from his body….
Part 8: The JSA vs. Solomon Grundy
Down from the sky screamed Hawkman in a power dive. I've tracked that ogre for miles, he thought to himself, but am I in time? With all his might, he swung a morningstar, a spiked ball and chain attached to a handle, which could generate much more force than his plain hafted mace. The morningstar made solid contact with Grundy's head, dazing him and jarring loose his deadly grip on Green Lantern's throat.
Out of the underbrush leaped the other men of the Justice Society, grim-visaged and intent on rescue or vengeance. It was the Atom who uttered the thought that none of them wanted to speak aloud. "Green Lantern is so still – so quiet–"
The Atom caught Grundy by the waist, while Dr. Mid-Nite hooked his good right arm around Grundy's neck and pulled with all his might. "Give us a hand, Flash!", he cried.
"Nothing would please me more!", the usually gentle Flash snarled, plain murder in his eyes.
All together, they heaved Grundy off his inert victim. Then, while the others tackled Grundy again, Dr. Mid-Nite pulled Green Lantern onto the bank and began assessing his condition. It looked very grave, he had to admit. Green Lantern's tall strong body lay utterly slack and motionless, his fine-cut features deathly pale, his eyes closed, his parted lips with a livid tinge. He did not appear to be breathing. Mid-Nite held his own breath, and listened closely to the Lantern's chest. Could it be that – was he–? Wait! There it was! Faint and fading and far too fast, but there! His heart was beating! He was alive!
Mid-Nite thought very fast. With his left arm all but useless, he had only one option – a little-known and radically experimental technique that preliminary reports indicated gave far superior results to the conventional methods. It meant getting rather personal, though, and he hoped it would not be misinterpreted.
Swiftly, Mid-Nite made the Lantern's drenched cloak into an improvised pillow and placed it under his neck and shoulders. Then he tipped the blond head back as far as it would go, placed his mouth completely over the Lantern's in a tight seal, and exhaled strongly in an attempt to force air from his own lungs into Green Lantern's. The broad chest rose! Mid-Nite released the seal and watched the Lantern's chest fall, then repeated his effort, again and again. Come on, Alan, he thought, come back to us! You can't die – you mustn't die – I won't let you! He kept it up until Green Lantern gasped deeply, coughed several times, and began breathing on his own. Immediately, Mid-Nite sat back on his heels, watching intently and holding the Lantern's wrist in his good hand. Moment by moment, the pulse under his fingers strengthened and slowed, the breathing became stronger and more even. He allowed himself to hope.
Presently Alan's eyes fluttered open, and he moaned softly. "Lantern, can you hear me?," Mid-Nite asked. "Do you know where you are – who I am?"
"Yes", the Green Lantern responded, his voice faint and hoarse. "Thank you, Mid-Nite."
While Dr. Mid-Nite fought furiously to fan the spark of life in Green Lantern's body, his comrades fought to subdue Solomon Grundy. Hawkman beat him about the head and shoulders with his morningstar, Atom tackled his legs and tried – uselessly – to trip him, and Flash hit him from all sides at once. Even Johnny Thunder pitched in, though his efforts were unavailing. "Can anything stop this mad monster?", cried the Flash.
"We can't give up," said Hawkman. "The future of the world may be at stake!"
Grundy shrugged off their efforts and sneered at them. "You cannot stop me, little men! Nothing can stop Solomon Grundy! Nothing!"
Using all his unhuman strength, Grundy raised a massive rock high above his head. "Justice Society! Pah! I – Solomon Grundy – now destroy you!"
"Watch out, Johnny!", cried the Atom, as Grundy seemed to be bringing the rock down closest to Johnny's position.
With unbelievable speed, a crimson comet hurtled forward, colliding with the rock and knocking it into Grundy's chest, and Grundy off-balance. Grundy roared with anger. "Grab him when he falls," yelled the Flash, "and don't let go!"
"Hang on, everybody!", shouted Hawkman as all four of them piled on top of Grundy.
"Maybe by sheer weight – and combined power – we can hold him down!", gasped the Atom, exerting all the strength in his undersized but powerful body to do just that.
Just then Wonder Woman showed up and added her Amazonian might to tip the balance. With all of them working together, they were able to restrain Grundy – just barely. "Whew!", said Hawkman. "It worked, thank heaven – but we can't spend our lives just holding this madman!"
Green Lantern, still weak but alert, was sitting up by this time. "What can we do?", Dr. Mid-Nite asked him. "We have Grundy – but we can't hold him forever!"
"–And a jail certainly won't hold him," Green Lantern said. "That's been proven!"
"How about your power ring?", the Flash asked.
"That won't do," the Lantern replied, rising slowly to his feet. "It didn't hold him long the last time–" With a casual thought, he used the power of the ring to dry all their clothes. He stood pensive for a moment.
"Well, let's figure out something quick," said Johnny Thunder. "It's getting dark already – the moon is out." He added contemplatively, "Say, I wonder what the man in the moon would do with Grundy?"
Hawkman said, "That's it, Johnny – the moon! You can travel anywhere with your ring, Green Lantern. How about leaving Grundy on another planet?" An unspoken question hung in his tone of voice, Are you up to it?
"Sounds ridiculous," the Green Lantern replied firmly, "but the power ring can do it!" I can do it, he implied.
Once again a green globe of titanic energy shimmered and formed about Solomon Grundy. Within it, the monster raged, "Destroy Justice Society – Green Lantern–!"
Green Lantern said, "It'll take every ounce of my willpower to complete this job successfully–"
Then up into the void of frigid space rose Green Lantern and his unhuman captive. Higher – higher – till at last they reached the cold and lifeless surface of Earth's sister planet. Here, Green Lantern deposited the shimmering bubble. "This will be your home for all eternity, Solomon Grundy," he said. "You must never be allowed to walk the Earth again. Never! "
Some time later, after Green Lantern had returned, the assembled Justice Society gazed up at the moon. "Well done, boys!," said Wonder Woman. "The people of the world will be forever grateful!"
"The moon looks innocent enough," Hawkman said thoughtfully, "but it holds the greatest menace this world ever knew – an unkillable, mad thing!"
The Atom asked, "I wonder how long that far-off satellite can hold him prisoner?"
"Forever, I hope," Green Lantern said softly. "But who knows?"
- The end? -
Story originally told by Gardner F. Fox
Retold by Bettina Helms