21.9.08

Untitled, a primer.

The shrill whistle echoed in the dusk light. Up and down the trench, the defenders piled up onto the firing step and sighted down their barrels. The evening had brought thick, rolling fog that obscured the view of the opposing trench. Whistles continued to sound from the shrouded unknown. Machine gunners double-checked that they could track back and forth without trouble, riflemen adjusted their sights, officers looked at their watches and nervously thumbed their pistol lanyards.

Deep Teutonic shouting picked up in volume from a low rumble to a thunderous din. The first attackers began to step out of the fog and began to drop from rifle fire. Sporadic firing began to pick up in tempo as more German soldiers poured from the mist. Machine gunners joined in the deadly cacophony, raking back and forth spraying deadly walls of lead. Whistles continued to sound in the distance, but their tune had changed. Instead of long bleats, the call was short, quick volleys of sound—the signal to fall back. As the fleeing attackers disappeared into the fog, the defender’s rifle fire slowly died down.

Captain Kowalski stood on the firing step and watched the slowly boiling mist for any sign of a renewed attack, but saw none. Tiredly, he stepped down from the top of the trench and slowly wiped dirt from his uniform. “Stand the men down, Sergeant.” He said to the short, barrel-chested man who patiently waited at attention. “Sir!” the sergeant snapped back, turned and went about his business.

“Krauts done for the day, Cap’t?” asked a red haired private, a new replacement in the company who Kowalski did not recognize.

“Probably, but keep your helmet on unless you’re in a bomb-proof. Shrapnel will end your war pretty quick.” Kowalski put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Where are you from?”

“Kansas, sir! Topeka.” The red haired boy smiled widely under his helmet. Most volunteers in the AEF were farm boys, but their wide-eyed idealism died quickly when called upon to go over the top and take the fight to the enemy. The AEF hadn’t been in the fighting long, but it had definitely taken its toll. Kowalski’s company had lost half of its strength in just a single attack and then lost half of what was left defending against German counter-attacks. He was glad to be reinforced, but he was dismayed when it was angry draftees and naïve volunteers and not well trained replacements gleaned from other commands.

“I’ve never been to Kansas, what’s it like?” Kowalski had long learned that it was best to be friendly with his men when he could, but not to shy away from harsh discipline when the situation arose—the men were better off for not knowing how their commanding officer would respond.

“To be honest with you, sir, there isn’t much to tell. It’s nothing like this, I’ll tell you.”

“Private, nothing is like this.” Kowalski decided this was a good time to break off the conversation. “Don’t forget to square your kit away while it’s still light. With Fritz on the prowl, there will be no lights outside tonight.” He walked away and down the trench. Some of his men looked up at him in acknowledgement, but none saluted. That formality had long since been proven meaningless. His men respected him because he never asked them to do what he wouldn’t and he was always fair in his discipline, regardless of how he personally felt about the offender.

His First Sergeant, McAdams, waddled up to him and rendered a rifle salute. “The men are stood down, sir.” He spoke in what was once a cockney accent, but it had been long tainted by Chicago polyglot. He had been in America for over forty years, but still insisted on acting like a British Sergeant he saw in a stage-play once. “Sir,” he hesitated, “why do you think they haven’t opened up on us with their heavy artillery? Just that light barrage before each attack, and nothing big. They should be hammering us to shreds right now…” He let his thoughts trail off.

“Word from Battalion is that they are short of shells like the Brits and Frogs were last year. Just a dozen rounds per gun.”

“You don’t believe that, do you sir? They got too much fight in them to be that bad off.”

“All I know is they’re not shelling is now and I’m glad for that. Thirty green replacements and the rest shell-shocked and tired? We’d be ruined by a heavy barrage.”

“Sir.” The Sergeant made it sound like an agreement.

----------------------

Morning came and the fog was still thick. Insects and birds chirped in the dawn silence—it always amazed Kowalski that animals still tried to eek out a living in the no-mans-land of war. Not total silence, but the incessant rumbling of artillery had long since become white noise to Kowalski’s ears.

Sergeant McAdams appeared next to him, and rendered a rifle salute. “All’s quiet, sir. Too quiet. You reckon the Krauts will try again today?”

Kowalski looked down at the set of orders in his hand. “We’re not going to give them a chance. This morning, we’re to mount a company raid into the enemy trench system and bring back intelligence and prisoners. Division has done the math and decided that the forces we are facing are no more than a single regiment, and that we’ve killed so many of them that they are now combat ineffective.”

“A little action will be good for the men, sir. And I could stand to stretch my legs.” McAdams again gave the rifle salute, this time with a little bounce in his step.

“I suppose, Sergeant. Anyway, we’ve got no choice. We move out in an hour, no preliminary bombardment, but we do have a squad with pigeons to request artillery support if we run into heavy resistance.”

---------------------------

Slowly, the company advanced. By platoons in line, their front was several hundred yards across and three men deep. Kowalski was directly behind the lead platoon, McAdams behind the next and company and platoon officers and NCOs spaced as evenly as possible to ensure rapid communication.

Slowly the fog began to lighten and visibility inched further out. When his company had reached midway through no-mans-land, Kowalski held up his hand and signaled a halt. The men tensed for action as the officers readied their whistles.

Kowalski drew his pistol and made sure the lanyard was attached, in case he dropped it. He glanced at his watch and pulled out his own whistle. After taking a deep breath, he put the steel whistle in his mouth and blew through as hard as he could, making the steady sound of a steam whistle as opposed to the warble of a playground toy. It was echoed all around him as the lead platoon took off at a run, picking their way through the wrecked earth separating the opposing trenches.

Kowalski always found it hard to think when he was leading an attack; he just ran faster than everyone to get ahead and didn’t stop. But he couldn’t help but notice that the defenders were not firing into the fog, nor making any appreciable noise at all. His men noticed as well and slowed down, subconsciously commanded by the eerie silence. Walking forward, the fog magically disappeared at the lip of the German trench. His men standing still, staring down into it, Kowalski checked his pistol as he walked up to the edge himself.

The first thing he saw was blood, lots of blood. It was splattered on the wooden walls of the German trench. Then he saw torn clothing, covered in blood. Ripped and twisted flesh, some in gobs and some in shapes recognizable as bodies. But his men weren’t looking at that, Kowalski noticed. He turned his attention to further down the trench, where a lone German soldier was limping in his direction.

The lone German soldier was saying something, but Kowalski couldn’t hear it clearly. The lead platoon’s medic stood aghast, paralyzed by what was before him. Kowalski slowly put his hand on the medic’s shoulder. The man flinched and turned, wide eyed and frightened. “What do you think?” Kowalski asked. The medic just jerked his head back and forth. Kowalski nodded.

Movement in the corner of his vision drew his attention. A First Platoon replacement was walking towards the German; arms out, showing he was unarmed. He got closer and closer. The German soldier huffed at him and the rookie almost backed away, but pressed on and touched the German’s arm kindly.

“He’s shaking pretty bad, sir.” The man reported. “He’s mumbling something…”

“What’s he saying Private?” One of the platoon’s Lieutenants asked.

The private moved in slowly, bringing his ear close to the German’s mouth. The riflemen at the lip of the trench tensed up and aimed at the German, just in case.

“I think he’s praying, sir,” the rookie shouted, “It sounds like---AAHHHHHHH!!!!” The German bit down on the private’s ear and grabbed hold of him with vise-like strength. The private screamed as the German ripped the ear off and wouldn’t let go.

Above, the gathered rifleman shouted in English and German but the enemy didn’t seem to hear. The rookie in the German’s grip cried for help, but ended in wet gurgling as the German bit into his neck. Blood cascaded down the two struggling forms.

The German dropped the quickly dying private and turned almost directly toward Kowalski. The Captain stared directly into the German’s eyes and was shaken to his core at what he saw. They were glazed over white, the eyes of a long-dead corpse. The German let out a determined moan and the smell of decay wafted at him.

Shaken from his stupor, Kowalski shouted “Open fire!” Immediately, his men began showering the German with bullets. Wet thumps sounded as the rounds went straight through the German’s chest and did not stop his slow advance down the trench. In desperation, a sergeant jumped down into the trench and attacked the German with his bayonet, pinning him to the wooden wall of the trench. The sergeant pulled his pistol and pointed it directly at the German’s head and looked up at Kowalski, who nodded. The round exploded the German’s head in a wave of black slime. The body hung twitching, but attempted no movement.

“What the hell was that?” Asked McAdams, who had ran up to the front when he heard the shooting.

Kowalski shook his head, at a loss for words.

A soft moaning began, and the young private who had been bitten stood up, facing away from his former comrades. He turned. Kowalski saw the glazed over white eyes of a dead man.

14.9.08

Jesus this blog is a sad sack of shit

And I'm too lazy to change that.

24.11.07

Black Utopia, Revised Edition

I don't know if "Black Utopia" is a fitting title anymore.

But, here is the revised version. I'm even less happy with it than I was with the original.

I cut out half of the story and it still ended up being a page longer than before.

I don't actually expect anyone to read it here, but I need an excuse to update.

Again, if the format from Word didn't carry over, I can't be bothered to go through and fix it all.

Enjoy. Or not.

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Light mist settled on the windshield, obscuring the view. James switched on his electric wipers and they slowly jerked across the window, smearing dirt across it. Squinting, he tried to find his turn off in the misty winter-evening light. The headlights in his car were about as effective as the wipers. On a hill in the distance he saw lights- lit windows in a mansion of titanic size. He knew he was near where he should be.

He found his turnoff and slid in the mud, but made the turn. After bumbling around on a dark trail for a couple of minutes, he found his objective and pulled to a stop next to the first police car he found; it said “Arkham Police” on the door. He got out and pulled out his ID wallet and handed it to the first officer he saw. “Kowalski, FBI. Can you take me to the officer in charge?”

The cop nodded and handed the wallet back, he was wearing his black police frock coat with the collar up to keep out the dampness. James followed him through the fog. Ahead of him was a tall hill of exposed rock, at its base was a circle of cars with their headlights pointing at a black opening in the side of the hill, dug into the rock. Men in long, dark coats and police uniforms paced around and talked in small groups. Some carried weapons and looked into the blackness of the opening.

One broke away from his group and walked toward James. “You must be Agent Kowalski?” he said.

“Yes. Do you want to see my credentials?”

“That won’t be necessary, sir. I’m Captain Bannon. I guess you want to know the situation.” It wasn’t a question.

James nodded, “I wasn’t told much--only that the Utopians might have kidnapped a girl.”

“Not just any girl. They took the mayor’s daughter. Did it in broad daylight, too. Grabbed her as she was leaving her father’s house and drove away. We have a witness that says the car went into this mine,” he gestured at the black chasm, “and haven’t come out. We have reason to believe that the mine shaft connects with the mansion at the top of the hill- you know who lives there…”

James grunted, “The Utopians.”

“Yep. We’re sure it was them. We’re trying to find any maps of these mines, but the old Arkham Mining Company went out of business almost a hundred years ago.”

“Yeah,” James nodded, “Something about ghosts or demons and the workers wouldn’t go into the mines anymore. It’s just a story- a myth.”

“People around here put a lot of stock in myth.” Bannon went silent and looked at the mine entrance. He sighed, “You probably want to talk to the witness.”

The witness was about sixty pounds of desiccated flesh. “I come over in ’73,” he spoke in a German accent, “nothing more denn ein Junge. But even back den, these people were here. They live in das große Wohnhaus…what is the word…mansion! The mansion on the hill. They make worship to their heathen gods. They have killed. They take people who get too close. They--”

James held up his hand. “Did you see a car enter the mine?”

“Ja, I did.” The old man answered. “They came down the trail and went inside.”

“And what were you doing at the time?” James looked deeply into the old man’s faded blue eyes.

“I was hunting. I had my Craig rifle- I fought for America you know. Joined das Heer. Kept my rifle when I left. Good rifle.”

“That’s all I need, sir.” James walked away, towards the mine, and motioned for Bannon to follow him. “This is bad procedure, but we need to go in there.”

“That is bad. We should wait for morning. Maybe call in more of your Fed boys.”

“Mr. Hoover made it clear to me that political pressure is being placed upon the Bureau to take swift action.”

Hoover? The President?”

“No, the vacuum maker. Of course not the President- J Edgar Hoover. Please tell me you’ve heard of him.”

“Mr. Kowalski, I do not appreciate your sarcasm.”

James nodded, “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day. Anyway, I need two of your best men.”

“Pemberton and Miller.”

***

James looked at the two officers, each with a shotgun on his shoulder. They were middle-aged and clearly experienced. “Either of you seen any action?”

Pemberton nodded, “We was in the 26th Division, 101st Regiment. Both of us. We fought at Soissons and St Mihel.”

James smiled, “Good.”

“What about you, sir?” Asked Miller, “You seen any action?”

Nodding, James said, “First Battalion, 339th. Fought the Reds.”

“Cold, eh?” Pemberton laughed. James forced a smile.

“Look,” James said, “you two know how bad an idea this is. But it’s something we have to do. There are rumors about people who let Mr. Hoover down, and I do not want to see if they’re true.” He picked up his Thompson and slung it on his shoulder. “I wish we had these in Archangel.”

The three were handed flashlights by other officers and they walked into the mine. The yellow glow from their flashlights illuminating narrow shafts of darkness, they relied on their hearing to determine what was ahead of them. As James pointed his flashlight down the mineshaft, the two officers searched around them. One grunted and gestured to an old overturned mine cart with “Arkham Mining Corporation” in large white letters on its side. The beam shifted from the cart to one of the supporting beams and an old oil lantern. James gingerly walked over to it; his flashlight aimed at the floor of the mine, and rummaged in his picket for a book of matches, struck one and held it to the wick. It lit. One of the officers gasped.

James spun around and saw nothing in the dim yellowish light cast by the aged panes of glass in the lantern. “What?” he asked.

Pemberton, his face pale white, pointed down the shaft. “Something moved down there. Something not human.”

Miller chuckled, “Looks like Pemberton’s got a case of the willies.”

“I’m serious!” he shouted, “I saw something.” His voice echoed in the mine.

James nodded, “I believe you, but it’s not there now. Let’s-” A voice came from down the mineshaft.

“Help…” the voice cried, “I’m down here! Help me…please hurry! They’re here!”

“We’re coming!” shouted Pemberton as he pulled out his sidearm, Miller follow suit.

They followed the voice down a side tunnel, unsupported by the usual timber frame seen in mines and the passage seemed…newer. Every few yards lay a discarded and broken pick or hammer and chisel. The walls turned from dirt to loose rock. The tunnel opened up into a deep, dark room. The three police stopped.

“Hello?” asked James into the room.

“I’m over here!” shouted the voice, very close now. They worked their way to the right along the wall. Their flashlights couldn’t reach far into the inky blackness.

Soon they found a wooden shack and heard sobbing from inside. Breaking their way in, they found a teenage girl in a fetal position, crying. It was the girl they were looking for.

She looked up with teary eyes and said, “They’re coming. Can’t you hear them?”

James listened carefully and sure enough, he heard scratching and dragging of feet. A wet breathing sounded from the outside of the shed. Pemberton aimed his gun alongside his flashlight and slowly scanned the outside through the door. Carefully, he poked out and scanned around, then left.

A few seconds later, gunfire erupted and the girl screamed. But she was drowned out by a shrill, inhuman howl of pain and torment. It died as quickly as it started and silence took the shed.

“Pemberton?” asked Miller, “Pemberton, you out there?” He too scanned the outside and almost instantly began firing. After emptying his gun, he grabbed the door and flung it shut and backed himself against it.

“I saw it,” the officer said, his voice breaking, “blood on its hands. We gotta get out of here.”

“What was it?” asked James.

“Satan.” The girl answered.

“What?” Miller looked at her, wide-eyed, “I think I killed the one I shot. But, I saw others. Must be the every devil out of hell out there.”

“Ok,” said James, “how do we get out of here?”

They began searching the shed with their flashlights. James stopped as his light illuminated some drawings on the one rock wall. He stood and looked closer.

One depicted a person being devoured by a squid. Another was a dozen stick figures bowing to a star with a flame in the middle. Letters were scrawled beneath it.

Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn. Ia Cthulhu! Ia Shub-Niggurath!

As James tried to figure out what those words meant, a pounding began on the wall next to him, opposite the door.

Miller sighed, “You run with the girl. We follow the wall until we find the tunnel. You get the hell out of here, I’ll cover us and meet you outside.” He took the shotgun from his shoulder and made sure it was loaded.

James just nodded and turned to the girl. She was sobbing again. The pounding on the shack’s wall got louder and the boards began to loosen. James dropped his Thompson, pulled the girl up and slung her over his shoulder. He nodded to Miller, who yanked the door open and fired into the face of the creature on the other side.

Not stopping to look at what it was, James ran as fast as he could. Every few steps, the officer would pause and fire a shot behind him. James slowed and looked around with his flashlight. “I think we took a wrong turn…” The girl struggled on his shoulder and he put her down.

“I remember,” she said, “It’s this way.” She ran down the shaft, Kowalski and Miller followed. After a few turns, she stopped. “Hand me your flashlight.” She took it and threw it to the ground, breaking it.

“What the hell did you do that for?” yelled Miller.

She laughed. “Fooled you.”

The sound of scratching came from all around. James fumbled in his pocket for his matches but only managed to drop them. He felt around on the ground for them and his hands found something wet and scaly- it moved away. The girl’s voice was a whisper in his ear, “The master has been expecting you.”

James tried to jump up and run, but something hit him in the head and ringing filled his ears. He dropped to his knees and the world faded out.

***

James was standing in the middle of a huge paved road, a road like he had never seen. Signs suspended above told of upcoming cities and places to eat. There were abandoned cars scattered across all lanes like discarded peanut shells. A strange, watery voice talked in his mind, “The future.” In the blink of an eye he walked for miles until he overlooked a vast metropolis, overgrown by forest. Tarnished metal buildings without windows towered into the clouds. A large green sign read “Chicago”. The voice returned to his mind, “A future you can stop.” Suddenly, darkness fell on the city before him and a huge appendage, a tentacle, descended from the clouds and ripped a vast swath out of the tallest of the buildings. It seemed to take forever to fall.

He heard footsteps behind him but couldn’t take his eyes off of the city. “It’s terrible, isn’t it?” asked the watery voice. James nodded and turned.

Next to him was a fish, walking like a man.

It said, “This is what happens if what is planned takes place. You will find yourself in a unique position.”

James just nodded.

“Do not accept your fate.” The fish-man pulled a handkerchief out of thin air and pressed it to James’ face. He blacked out.

He awoke to the sound of thunder. Light flashed in front of his eyes, illuminating steep canyon walls of basalt. Scraggly bushes poked out from cracks in the rock. Lightning creased the dark sky, throwing shadows from the bushes across the ground like the arms of slaves begging for release from a sadistic overseer. Ahead, a steady stream of light poured into the sky from the end of the canyon.

He moved ahead, not feeling his les move nor hearing his own footsteps. Chanting filled the air, a language he could not imagine being spoken by a human tongue. Undulating sound carried him forward, toward the light.

He came to the end of the canyon and stood on the edge of a great chasm. The chanting was reverberating off the walls, shaking the world under him. Stones rose from the chasm, forming a walkway to the middle. Lighting flashed and as the light cleared, a large platform appeared in the middle of the blackness. He walked to it.

On the platform rested a stone altar. He felt himself move to the side of it and a hooded figure came from behind him and lay on it. The hood fell backward to reveal James’ face. The chanting grew louder again. A second hooded figure emerged and pulled back his hood to reveal a man remarkably similar to him, but different. The rocks all around him shook with the sound of chanting. The standing figure pulled a knife from his sleeve and held it over the laying figure. The knife was thrust down, the chanting ended and he felt himself falling into the silent black chasm.

He fell and fell, the wind whistling past his ears. There was a light below. He heard footsteps and a girl laughing. “Fooled you,” a voice behind him said. The light below grew more and more intense. There was a rock floor coming up to meet him. He hit with a wet thump.

***

James opened his eyes, but couldn’t tell if he was blind or not. There was absolutely no light. Two sets of hands lifted him up to his feet, and he found he could stand and walk. He still couldn’t see and felt his way up the pair of hands on his left. They felt cold and clammy. There was the smell of rotten meat in the air.

“Agent Kowalski,” an educated east coast voice spoke out of the darkness, “it will take your eyes some time to adjust to the darkness.”

James tried to look around, but the pounding pain from the back of his head prevented him from moving too much. Out of the inky blackness four hooded shadows resolved into form.

“I can’t see your faces.” James said.

“Indeed, that is the point,” said the same voice, “You would not appreciate it. There is a dark side to this fabled utopia which has been created.”

“Utopia?”

“We do not have time to explain. Take this and think on it.” The educated voice pressed something into James’ hand. “Don’t try to look at it now. When you are in the light, take it in your hand and then look at it. Ask yourself where it comes from.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will. Now, let’s go. He awaits.”

They pulled James down a black passageway; the only sound was the scraping of his feet on the ground. He slowly noticed the rotten odor getting stronger as he was pulled further down the passage. After several minutes, the passageway opened into a cavern. Lit torches illuminated the shores of an underground river. He was being pulled towards a flat bottomed barge, a ferry, moored on this side of it.

One of the cloaked figures walked ahead and tapped on the bow with his foot. A old, crackly voice came from it, “What?” A man sat up from inside the boat. The man smiled, his teeth were perfect even if the rest of his body was weathered and wrinkled like an old pair of boots. “This the one that’s ‘spected?”

“Indeed.” said the educated voice.

“Ya’ll best get in, then. I’ll take you across.”

They piled in the barge and the old man pushed them across the river with a long pole.

On the other side were a timber dock and a simple wooden door set in a sheer rock wall. The figures pulled James up to it and knocked. The door opened in a cascade of light. He was pushed through the door and another set of arms grabbed him on the other side and pulled him up an echoing set of stairs. James, blinded by the light, saw nothing. He was pulled down a hallway, footsteps cushioned by thick carpeting and then unceremoniously thrown onto the floor and sank into the carpeting an inch. His vision was coming back, the carpet was red.

James looked up and around. There was the red carpet and everything else was golden, but it all had a strange white luminous hue. It didn’t really look like gold, but a deep, inherently human feeling told him that it, indeed, was. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the object given to him and it was a coin cast from the same gold substance. Written on it, in black lettering was: “Save us.” James turned it over and on the opposite side it read “Kill him.”

“What is that?” asked a voice that James could have sworn was his own, but it came from across the room. His head bolted upright and he squinted to focus his eyes just a little better. He saw himself, or almost himself. A man, about his height, and a near-mirror image was standing across the room. He was decked out in a finely tailored black suit with a red shirt and black tie. He wore a luminous golden chain around his neck and white gloves were tucked into his lapel pocket. “Ah,” he said as he walked forward, “A coin.”

James rubbed the coin and the writing smeared away. He looked up again. “Do I know you? Because I swear I’m looking into a mirror.” He put the coin in his pocket.

“No, you don’t know me. But you soon will.”

“Yes. We’ll get to know each other real good because you’re under arrest.”

His doppelganger laughed, “Under what authority?”

“The game’s up, buddy. I’m Agent Kowalski, FBI.”

“Kowalski? What a ridiculous name. And not your real name, either.”

James started to respond, but was silenced by a swipe of his doppleganger’s hand.

“Your real name is ‘Stuart’. James Stuart. I know because I am your brother, Edward. Your twin brother. You ran away from our parents when you were a child and were picked up by the state and adopted by that vile immigrant family you think is your own.”

James reached for his shoulder holster, only to find it empty.

Edward continued, “But now that is corrected. I have conspired to bring you here and now the covenant can be sealed.”

You brought be here? You kidnapped the girl?”

Edward laughed again, “Hardly. She willingly joined in my plan, as did her father and many of the police officers.”

“Pemberton and Miller?”

“Ignorant peons. They had no idea they were being sacrificed for the greater good.”

“Bastard. I’ll have you arrested.”

Edward smiled. “Never mind that…,” He searched for the word, “inconsequential business. You must help me. I know this is sudden- we’ve only just been reunited after years - but I don’t care. I am on the brink of the greatest event in human history and I need your help to bring it about. Look around you.” Edward raised his arms and swept around the large palatial room, like a throne room. “This magnificent place is but one tiny fraction of the wealth given to me. My world is literally paved in it. My walls are clad in it. And it is all a gift. The coin you possess is part of it. We cannot reject it. We cannot give it back. This is course that must be followed.

“You stand there, looking confused, as if I am insane. But I tell you that this is evidence of the wonders that await the human race. Utopia for all! Peace and wealth for all! No hunger, no sickness, no neediness!” His eyes burned in ferocity. “Freely given to us by our benefactors! All of humanity will thank me for bringing it about!”

Edward turned, pointing at the far wall. Slowly, on cue, the gilded wall parted at the middle, revealing a grand staircase heading down. A gust of damp, sour air plowed across the room and shocked James into action.

“What are you talking about…uh, Edward?” He asked. “Benefactors? I’m not here for any of this. All I wanted was to find the girl.”

“Forget the girl, James,” Edward shouted, “This is far more important! You are witness to the dawn of a new age! Follow me.”

Just then two sets of arms grabbed him on either side, pulled him to his feet and led him toward the stairway. The smell was…rotten. The dampness made it stick in his nose and it got worse as he neared the stairs themselves.

The staircase was sharply sloped downward into darkness. James recoiled from it. It was the same luminous gold, but was tarnished in the creases of its ornately carved balustrade. They were shaped like squid tentacles and were decorated with a strange symbol that frightened James at the very core of his being. He had seen it in the mine, alongside that alien writing: a five pointed star with a flaming eye in the middle. They were on every individual baluster. The banister was also gold, but worked to resemble a giant snake, slithering down into the depths.

“Heed my warning,” said the person to his right, he sounded like the educated shadow, “and don’t believe what he says. He means to destroy the world, to kill all of us. Look at the gold, it does not come from this world. Throw it away. Stop him. You are the only one who can.”

James’ reply was hushed by a low growl. It took him a while to realize that it came from his brother, who had his arms up again and was slowly descending the stairs. James listened closely and realized that Edward was quietly chanting to himself. He couldn’t hear the words as he was pulled and pushed down the stairs after him.

As darkness enveloped him, James felt himself jerked to a stop. His own face appeared before him. “What you are about to see, James,” his brother said, “Is a secret. But will be revealed soon. It is the portal to the future. Come.” Edward turned away and James was pushed fully into the darkness and ran, face first, into something. Flames came to life to his sides, torches, and he saw what he had hit.

It was a door. Not gilt, as the rest of the walls he had seen were, but ancient timbers, bound together by massive wrought iron bars. Edward walked up to it, mumbling something, and they opened outwards, pushed up lumpy robed figures who were also mumbling a chant. He signaled for the group to continue.

Through the door was a massive cave, carved out of the living rock. Illuminated by torches and by a giant crack in the ceiling, which let in a single spear of light from above, it was amazing. James followed the beam of light from the ceiling down to the floor only to realize that it was a giant pit, so deep that the light was trapped inside.

The dank, rotten smelling air seemed to pulse. First it was pushing on his face, and then it was coming from behind him, as if the cave itself was breathing.

On the edge of the pit was a platform with what looked like an elevator. Robed figures were turning a crank, pulling something up from the pit. As it neared the light, James saw the strangely iridescent gold. It was being pulled up from the pit.

“A mine?” James asked no one in particular.

“No.” said his brother from the edge of their narrow walkway. “That hole leads deep underground. The pit is the connection to our benefactors.”

“Impossible.” James could not wrap his mind around it.

“Yes, it is impossible. But it simply is anyway. Come, let’s go down to the edge.”

James was pushed down a set of rickety wooden stairs and looked at the cave wall as he went. It was full of tool marks. “Impossible.” James said again.

“No, James, very possible. A people with a vision can achieve anything. As Archimedes said, 'If you give me a lever and a place to stand, I can move the world’. And I have. We,” Edward put his arms out, as if to hug the cave, “did it all.”

James and Edward stood at the very edge of the pit. It wasn’t the cave breathing, it was the pit itself. The rotten smell was overwhelming.

Edward shouted, “Let it begin!”

On cue, robed figures appeared from the shadows all around the pit. Edward put his arms up. “Ia Cthulhu! Ia!” he shouted. The people responded in kind.

Edward chanted, “Since the dark times before time itself, the old ones waited. Their world was taken from them and given to lesser creatures, mere mortals.”

“Ia!” chanted the congregation.

“We are inheritors of this world, a world which is not our own. But we see the light. We see salvation.”

“Ia!”

“The old ones wait in the void between worlds. Their messenger, Cthulhu, calls for us and them.”

“Ia Cthulhu!”

“He gifts us with wealth and prosperity. We gift him with sacrifice.”

“Ia!”

Another group of robed figures emerged onto the elevator platform, four of them, dragging a man behind them. James saw that it was Miller. Edward turned to him and said, “He’s a worthy sacrifice.” Then he turned back to the pit. “Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn! In his house at R’lyeh, dead Cthulhu waits dreaming,”

“Ia Cthulhu!” chanted the congregation.

“Cthulhu fhtagn! Cthulhu waits!”

“Ia!”

The figures on the elevator platform pulled Miller to his feet and edged him toward the blackness below.

James pleaded, “Edward, you can’t do this.”

Edward turned back to him, burning torches reflected in his eyes, “No. He will not believe as we do. So he will be one with Cthulhu, our benefactor. Our savior.”

James shut his eyes and Edward turned away.

“As great Cthulhu gives us wealth and power, so we must in turn give to him. We cannot give back what we were given, so we give of ourselves.”

“Edward,” James said quietly, “it’s not too late. You can walk away. Throw the gold back down and bury it.”

“You refuse to understand, brother, what is given to us cannot be given back. It would be an affront to our benefactor. We accept of him and give of ourselves. Watch.”

On the platform, the robed people rocked themselves back and forth, chanting. Miller seemed to be drugged and chanted with them. Then as one, the four jumped off the edge with the Miller in their arms. They did not make a sound. No one did. After several minutes of silence, the assembled crowd quietly said, “Ia Cthulhu.”

Edward raised his arms and said, “A portal will be opened! Ready yourselves! Cthulhu is prepared to bring his people back into their world! We will usher them…”

Edward continued as James slowly walked around behind him. He thought, we cannot give back what we have been given…it will anger whatever is down there. He looked down at the coin he was given. And then he looked at the pit.

The educated shadow behind him walked up behind him and said, “Yes. Do it. End this. We cannot.”

James turned and looked at him, “Why?” he asked, “Why can’t you?”

The man pulled back his robe hood. His skin had a greenish hue, his mouth was fish-like. James noticed, for the first time, that his hands were webbed. His eyes had green whites and his pupils were narrow slits. “You see,” the educated one said between needle-like teeth, “We are transformed into servants of the master. I can walk to the edge. I can want to drop it in, but I cannot. The master has that control over us. Save us. Save the world. Drop the coin.”

James turned and looked at his brother, arms raised, chanting. Something had been lowered from the ceiling, an octagonal ring. It had a glowing triangular green light at each corner. It seemed to hum and the pit’s breathing seemed to get stronger.

James slowly walked up beside his brother, looked at him. His brother connected eyes with him. And he dropped the coin down the pit.

Edward’s eyes widened and appeared to bulge out of his head. “No!” he screamed and lunged at James, missed, and fell to the floor. The whole cave began to tremble. The robed figures around the pit scattered into the shadows. James ran towards where he had entered the cave and just as he reached the top of the stairs, they collapsed behind him. He stopped at the doorway and watched as a large chunk of the cave roof broke free and fell down into the pit. More pieces followed and the cave collapsed into itself.

He ran up the golden staircase and through room after room before breaking free into the night and into the waiting arms of a dozen men in trench coats. They gently lowered him to the ground. As he stared up into the stars, a face appeared above him, a flat nose, baby cheeks and cropped hair. “Agent Kowalski, what happened in there?” the man asked.

James smiled and stared through the face. Hoover. Fish. Cthulhu. Cthulhu. Cthulhu. Cthul-” Hoover slapped him across his face.

“Make sense, man!” Hoover spat at him.

“Sir!” a voice in the distance shouted. “The lower levels and the mines underneath the building are all collapsed. But we did find this…”

James forced himself to sit up and saw two men pulling a fish-faced man from the mansion. He laughed. Hoover looked down at him. “What is it, Kowalski.”

James laughed, “My name is Stuart!” And he kept laughing.

Hoover shook his head and spoke to another agent. “Torch the mansion and throw that body inside. No one heard of this. Round up the insiders from the town on suspicion of alcohol traffic and let them rot in a cell until they talk.” He walked toward his car, but turned and pointed at James, who was laughing uncontrollably. “And send that laughing idiot to Arkham Asylum. I’m sure Dr. Wilson will understand that silence is essential.”

15.11.07

Sitting here

I'm wondering how to revise the story.

The vast majority of the feedback I got is telling me to scrap the twin brother idea and to choose either the mine or the island to set the story. Clearly, the easiest would be to use just the mine. Scrapping the twins would be the only serious option here. So, this story would all take place in/around the abandoned mine. OK. I'm not thrilled with such a radical change, but I recognize that the advice is good.

The other option is to so expand the story as to make it a novella. I don't think the class would appreciate having to read a 100 page story and my wallet wouldn't appreciate paying for 25 copies of a 100 page story. I may do this eventually, anyway.

I don't have much choice with my limited time. The first option is what I need to do.

And in conclusion, here is a random image from my photobucket account. It's an inside joke that I don't expect anyone to get.

11.11.07

The complete Black Utopia, version 1

Here's how this works... I finished the Black Utopia story as part of ENGL407 at the university. However, this is the first version. I have yet to write the second, where I take advice given to me by the professor and other students and revise it. So, here's it as it is now. I don't know if my formatting from Word carried over in the copy/paste and frankly I can't be fucked to look through it all and check.


Try to enjoy it. Take tylenol for the pain.

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Wind blew dust in small tornados, picking up trash from the roadside. They cut a path over the highway until a long-haul truck flashed by, scattering the discarded fast food wrappers and soda bottles across the oncoming lanes.

James watched this over the roof of his car. Aside from the wind and the semi, the only sound he heard was the ticking of the fuel pump, the muffled rush of gasoline and the slow, shuffling steps of the gas station attendant. He turned to face the old man who started his gas pumping only minutes before. The old man, denim overalls stained with motor oil and filth, held a blue credit card at arms length.

“It ain’t workin’.” He said. He half-smiled, revealing the gaps of several missing teeth. The rest were stained from smoking and the gums had receded, leaving them appearing to be far too long and loose.

“How many times did you try it?” James squinted in the sun, leveling a questioning gaze at the old man.

“Four‘r five. Machine won’t work.”

James took the card back and reached for his wallet. “I guess I’ll pay cash. But, I’ll need a receipt.”

“No prob’em, sir. Yer nigh ‘bout finished.” As the old man talked, the fuel pump clicked off. James paid the man. As he was getting in, the old man coughed to get his attention. “Yeah?” He asked.

The old man leaned on the open car door and asked, “You that ‘splorer what all the noise was ‘bout some while back?”

“No, I’m not. That was my twin brother.”

The old man guffawed. “Sure.”

“Seriously. Eddie Stuart was my twin brother. I’m James.”

“Well’en what you doin’ out here?”

“I’m on my way to Utopia. Ever been there?”

“Naw. But, I hear once the streets are paved wit’ gold, there ain’t no crime an’ everything free. Don’t see how it’s better than around these parts. Sure, the streets ain’t paved wit’ no gold, but there ain’t no crime cause there’s ain’t nothin’ to steal and things might as well be free for you can get jus’ ‘bout anything barterin’. Why you ask?”

“I’m a private investigator and I’ve been hired to find a tourist who went there on vacation and never returned. Rich family, scared for their daughter; you know.”

“Yeah. Well, you keep yerself safe, ya’hear?”

“Sure.”

James pulled his door shut and drove away. A road sign he passed read, “Utopia: 109 miles.”

James turned the cruise control on and accelerated up to 70mph. He sat back and daydreamed a bit. Eddie. It had been a long time since James had given him any thought.

Edward Ulysses Stuart was the first of the twins born. Their mother had said he climbed his way out of the womb; that he couldn’t wait to explore the untouched corners of the world. And he began exploring at a very young age.

James and Edward were the distant relatives of some of the more wealthy families in New England and the distant prosperity translated into their parents owning large tracts of woodland. James was content to build a fort in the trees, but Edward wanted to find the best place to fortify. He found an abandoned mineshaft on their parents’ property and claimed it as his own.

For weeks, he spent all day, every day, in the dark seclusion of the mine. Every morning, he’d go down with lanterns and food and would come out in the evening covered in dirt and grime. After a week or so, he began taking tools with him. Shovels, pick-axes and wheelbarrows. The country house they lived at was soon without any labor implements.

When quizzed about his behavior, Eddie would try to change the subject.

After four weeks, Eddie left the mine alone and never went down it again. When James would ask about it, a look of terror overtook him and fear took his voice.

When the twins were 18, Eddie left for the University of Chicago, while James opted for a smaller local university to acquire his education. Archaeology was Eddie’s subject and history was James’. The day Eddie left was the last day the twins would be together.

Eddie left Chicago with a doctorate in Archaeology five years later, a feat of considerable academic and intellectual prowess. James tried for his PhD, but decided better of it and took an opportunity to start a career as a police detective.

James’ first case involved a missing girl and he was shocked to learn that she was missing in the woods that his family owned until just a few years before.

By some freak brainstorm, he knew where to look for the girl- the mineshaft his brother lived in for so many weeks.

He ordered the area cordoned off and he and two officers ventured into the mine.

Their flashlights illuminating narrow shafts of darkness, they relied on their hearing to determine what was ahead of them. As James pointed his flashlight down the mineshaft, the two officers searched around them. One grunted and gestured to an old mine cart overturned. It said “Arkham Copper Mining Corporation” in large white letters. The beam shifted from the cart to one of the supporting beams and a rather out-of-place electric lantern. James gingerly walked over to it; his flashlight aimed at the floor of the mine, and turned the switch. It lit. One of the officers gasped.

James spun around and saw nothing in the dim yellowish light cast by the aged panes of glass in the lantern. “What?” he asked.

The officer, his face pale white, pointed down the shaft. “Something moved down there. Something not human.”

The other officer chuckled, “Looks like Pemberton’s got a case of the willies.”

“I’m serious!” he shouted, “I saw something.” His voice echoed in the mine.

James nodded, “I believe you, but it’s not there now. Let’s-” He was cut himself when he heard a voice from down the mine.

“Help…” the voice cried, “I’m down here! Help me…please hurry! They’re here!”

“We’re coming!” shouted Pemberton as he drew his gun. The other officer did the same.

They followed the voice down a side tunnel, unsupported by the usual timber frame you see in mines and the passage seemed…newer. Every few yards lay a discarded and broken pick or hammer and chisel. The walls turned from dirt to loose rock. The tunnel opened up into a deep, dark room. The three police stopped.

“Hello?” asked James into the room.

“I’m over here!” shouted the voice, very close now. They worked their way to the right along the wall. Their flashlights couldn’t reach far into the inky blackness.

Soon, they found a wooden shack and heard sobbing from inside. Breaking their way in, they found a teenage girl in a fetal position, crying. It was the girl they were looking for.

She looked up with teary eyes and said, “They’re coming. Can’t you hear them?”

James listened carefully and sure enough, he heard scratching and dragging of feet. A wet breathing sounded from the outside of the shed. Pemberton aimed his gun alongside his flashlight and slowly scanned the outside through the door. Carefully, he poked out and scanned around, then left.

A few seconds later, gunfire erupted and the girl screamed. But her scream was drowned out by a shrill, inhuman scream of pain and torment. It died as quickly as it started and silence took the shed.

“Pemberton?” asked the other officer, “Pemberton, you out there?” He mimicked Pemberton’s scanning of the outside and almost instantly began firing. After emptying his clip, he grabbed the door and flung it shut and backed himself against it.

“I saw it,” the officer said, terror breaking up his voice, “blood on its hands. We gotta get out of here.”

“What was it?” asked James.

“Satan.” The girl answered.

“Yeah, yeah sure,” said the officer, “but I think I killed the one I shot. But, I saw others. Must be the every devil out of hell out there.”

“Ok,” said James, “how do we get out of here?”

The two police began searching the shed with their flashlights. James stopped as his light illuminated some drawings on the one rock wall. He stood and looked closer.

One depicted a person being devoured by a squid. Another was a dozen stick figures bowing to a star with a flame in the middle. Letters were scrawled beneath it.

Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn. Ia Cthulhu! Ia Shub-Niggurath!

As James tried to figure out what those words meant, a pounding began on the wall next to him, opposite the door.

The remaining officer sighed, “Detective, you run with the girl. We follow the wall until we find the tunnel. You get the hell out of here, I’ll cover us and meet you outside.”

James just nodded and turned to the girl. She was sobbing again. The pounding on the shack’s wall got louder and the boards began to loosen. James pulled the girl up and slung her over his shoulder. He nodded to the officer, who yanked the door open and fired into the face of the creature on the other side.

Not stopping to look at what it was, James ran as fast as he could. Every few steps, the officer would pause and fire a few shots behind him. They quickly came to the tunnel and James ran through, without stopping to see what became of the officer. As he entered the main mine, he heard gunshots telling him the officer was still back there. He ran towards the distant light of the lantern and then outside.

The police outside grabbed the girl from him and took her behind their barricades. James stood just outside the mine and listened.

He heard footsteps and grunting and knew the officer was coming. Suddenly, he heard a yelp and gunshots. The shots ended in a scream and then there was silence.

James ordered the mine entrance blown up with dynamite, sealing it forever.

That was the first he had thought of his twin brother in years. Were those…things the reason why Eddie stopped going in the mine and why he seemed to terrified by it? What were they? And what was so special about that writing?

For months, James found himself preoccupied by the events in the mine. He unconsciously doodled strange designs which reminded him of the drawings on the wall. He also contacted one of his university professors about the writing and he had never seen such strange words before. It wasn’t any spoken language.

He became so obsessed, that he quit the police force and went into business for himself, hoping to discover something about the strange writing.

Then, James got some news about his twin brother. Everyone got it.

It was the lead news story for every major network. “Famous Explorer Disappears Underwater!”

Eddie had discovered a sunken city in the Caribbean and was diving in a submersible and he just disappeared. The small submarine he was using surfaced with the entire crew and Eddie gone.

The networks played a clip from a press conference he gave a few days before.

Eddie stood at a podium and said, “It has always been my calling to explore what hasn’t been explored yet, to see what hasn’t been seen, to illuminate the dark areas on this planet. There is no terra incognita, not in this era of technology.”

The camera zoomed away from him, showing Eddie’s team.

“We have discovered an ancient city sunken deep below the Caribbean Sea- a city perhaps tens of thousands of years old and yet modern in many ways. Our data isn’t very clear, but we think this could be what Plato called ‘Atlantis’.”

Murmurs went through the gathered media.

“In three days time, we dive on the city and humanity will learn more about her own past in that one dive than has been learned in the last thousand years.”

The network cut the clip.

It’s said that when one twin dies, the other feels like he lost a limp. But, James felt nothing. He hadn’t seen his brother in years and no longer knew him. He was far more concerned about the mine.

James kept searching for the next few years, financing his quest with odd detective jobs. Then his current contract came before him and he accepted it and the money it would bring in.

James snapped back to reality when the road he was on ended in a parking lot. There must have been a hundred cars parked, most of them had thick coats of dust on them and were faded from the sun. Beyond the parking lot was a vast sparkling ocean. James knew that it was man-made and not very deep, but it was still beautiful. Sitting on it, slowly approaching was a white ferry.

James pulled into a parking space near the back of the lot and walked to the ferry dock. A man stepped out of the dock house and said, “I knew you were coming, so I called the ferry for you. You’d best change and get ready to leave.”

James looked at the man skeptically, “Change?”

The man smiled, his teeth were perfect even if the rest of his body was weathered and wrinkled like an old pair of boots. “Your outsider clothes and belongings are not allowed on the island. They would pollute the society. You’ll understand when you get there, now hurry, he’s waiting.”

“He?”

“You’ll find out when you get there. Change.” The man pointed to a bank of lockers. “Open one and take out the clothes inside. Put your outsider clothes inside and lock it. Don’t lose your key, you’ll need it if you come back.”

“If?” James was bewildered.

“You’ll find out when you get there. Hurry, the ferry is almost here and the ferryman is impatient.”

James walked down to an open locker and removed the clothes inside: plain un-dyed, unbleached cloth pants and shirt, sort of a tanish color and slippers of the same material with leather soles. He changed in the open air and locked his “outsider” clothes in the locker and removed the numbered key. He slipped it in the single pocket he had, on the front of his shirt.

The ferryman looked him up and down and grunted. He then went to the pilothouse and started the ferry. It had no cabin, merely a pedestal with controls. James stood at the bow and watched the empty horizon. Slowly, his vision began to blur and he lost his footing. Dropping down on one knee to steady himself, he looked toward the ferryman but saw no one. On hands and knees, he crawled toward the controls. His vision narrowed and he dropped into unconsciousness.

“Yep, that’s him.” James heard the voice but couldn’t find its source in the inky blackness. “Not much to look at.” That was another voice, opposite the first…on either side of him…Both uneducated, southern. “He’s waking up.” A third voice, this one behind him, with a Texas accent. “James Stewart, I presume.” A fourth voice, educated, East Coast.

Two sets of hands lifted him up to his feet, and he found he could stand and walk. He still couldn’t see and felt his way up the pair of hands on his left. They felt cold and clammy. There was the smell of rotten meat in the air.

“Mr. Stewart,” it was the educated voice again, “you can see, you just have to remember to open your eyes. Don’t worry about shielding them, it’s quite dark.”

James opened his eyes and in the distance saw an exit light over an unpainted metal door. “Better?” asked the Texan voice. Out of the inky blackness around the distant light four hooded shadows resolved into form.

“No.” said James. “I can’t see your faces.”

“Indeed, that is the point,” said the educated one, “You would not appreciate it. There is a dark side to this fabled utopia which your brother has created.”

“My brother?”

“We do not have time to explain. Take this and think on it.” The educated voice pressed a coin into James’ hand. “Don’t look at it now. When you are outside in the sun, take it in your hand and then look at it. Ask yourself where it comes from.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will. Now, let’s go. He awaits.”

The four shadows grabbed James again and half-pulled him towards the door. When it opened, the light was blinding. He was pushed through the door and another set of arms grabbed him on the other side and pulled him up an echoing set of stairs. James, blinded by the light, saw nothing. He was pulled down a hallway, footsteps cushioned by thick carpeting and then unceremoniously thrown onto the floor and sank into the carpeting an inch. His vision was coming back, the carpet was red.

James looked up and around. There was the red carpet and everything else was golden, but it all had a strange white luminous hue. It didn’t really look like gold, but a deep, inherently human feeling told him that it, indeed, was. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the coin given to him and it was the same gold substance. Written on it, in black lettering was: “Save us.” James turned it over and on the opposite side it read “Kill him.”

“What is that?” asked James’ own voice, but it came from across the room. His head bolted upright and he squinted to focus his eyes just a little better. He saw himself. He was decked out in a finely tailored black suit with a red shirt and black tie. He wore a luminous golden chain around his neck and white gloves were tucked into his lapel pocket. “Ah,” he said as he walked forward, “A coin.”

James rubbed the coin and the writing smeared away. He looked up again. “You’re supposed to be dead, Eddie.”

“Indeed I should be, but, alas, I am alive and well.” Eddie bowed. “What brings you to this, my utopia, oh brother dear?”

“Work.” James purposefully answered vaguely. What the hell was going on, he thought to himself, Eddie disappeared on that undersea expedition.

“Never mind that…,” Eddie searched for the word, “inconsequential business. You must help me. I know this is sudden- we’ve only just been reunited after years of me being dead and we should be emotional and thankful that we’re both alive- but I don’t care. I am on the brink of the greatest event in human history and I need your help to bring it about. Look around you.” Eddie raised his arms and swept around the large palatial room, like a throne room. “This magnificent place is but one tiny fraction of the wealth given to me. My city is literally paved in it. My buildings are clad in it. And it is all a gift.

“You stand there, looking confused, as if I am insane. But I tell you that this is evidence of the wonders that await the human race. Utopia for all! Peace and wealth for all! No hunger, no sickness, no neediness!” His eyes burned in ferocity. “Freely given to us by our benefactors! All of humanity will thank me for bringing it about!”

Eddie’s arms were still up and he turned around and slowly brought his arms down, pointing at the far wall. Slowly, on cue, the gilded wall parted at the middle, revealing a grand staircase heading down. A gust of damp, sour air plowed across the room and shocked James into action.

“What are you talking about, Eddie?” He asked. “Benefactors? I’m not here for any of this. All I need is to find this girl.”

“Forget the girl, James,” Eddie shouted, “This is far more important! You are witness to the dawn of a new age! Follow me.”

James was surprised to find two sets of arms grab him on either side and pull him to his feet and they led him toward the stairway. The smell was…rotten. The dampness made it stick in his nose and it got worse as he neared the stairs themselves.

The staircase was sharply sloped downward into darkness. James recoiled from it. It was the same luminous gold, but was tarnished in the creases of its ornately carved balustrade. They were shaped like squid tentacles and were decorated with a strange symbol that frightened James at the very core of his being. He had seen it in the mine, alongside that alien writing. It was a five pointed star with a flaming eye in the middle. They were on every individual baluster. The banister was also gold, but worked to resemble a giant snake, slithering down into the depths.

“Heed my warning,” said the person to his right, he sounded like the educated shadow, “and don’t believe what he says. He means to destroy the world, to kill all of us. Look at the gold- it does not come from this world. Stop him. You are the only one who can.”

James started to reply but was hushed by a low growl. It took him a while to realize that it came from his brother, who had his arms up again and was slowly descending the stairs. James listened closely and realized that Eddie was quietly chanting to himself. He couldn’t hear the words as he was pulled and pushed down the stairs after him.

As darkness enveloped him, James felt himself jerked to a stop. His own face appeared before him. “What you are about to see, James,” his brother said, “Is a secret. But will be revealed soon. It is the portal to the future. Come.” Eddie turned away and James was pushed fully into the darkness and ran, face first, into something. Flames came to life to his sides, torches, and he saw what he had hit.

It was a door. Not gilt, as the rest of the walls he had seen were, but ancient timbers, bound together by massive wrought iron bars. Eddie walked up to it, mumbling something, and they opened outwards, pushed up lumpy robed figures who were also mumbling a chant. Eddie signaled for the group to continue.

Through the door was a massive cave, carved out of the living rock. Illuminated by torches and by a giant crack in the ceiling, which let in a single spear of light from above, it was amazing. James followed the beam of light from the ceiling down to the floor only to see that there was none- it was a giant pit. So deep that the light was trapped inside.

The dank, rotten smelling air seemed to pulse. First it was pushing on his face, and then it was coming from behind him, as if the cave itself was breathing.

On the edge of the pit was a platform with what looked like an elevator. Robed figures were turning a crank, pulling something up from the pit. As it neared the light, James saw the strangely iridescent gold. It was being pulled up from the pit.

“A mine?” James asked no one in particular.

“No.” said his brother from the edge of their narrow walkway. “That hole leads deep underwater. Atlantis, James- that pit leads to Atlantis.”

“Impossible.” James could not wrap his mind around it.

“Yes, it is impossible. But it simply is anyway. Come, let’s go down to the edge.”

James was pushed down a set of rickety wooden stairs and looked at the cave wall as he went. It was full of tool marks. “Impossible.” James said again.

“No, James, very possible. A people with a vision can achieve anything. As Archimedes said, 'If you give me a lever and a place to stand, I can move the world’. And I have. We,” Eddie put his arms out, as if to hug the cave, “did it all.”

James and Eddie stood at the very edge of the pit. It wasn’t the cave breathing, it was the pit itself. The rotten smell was overwhelming.

Eddie shouted, “Let it begin!”

On cue, robed figures appeared from the shadows all around the pit. Eddie put his arms up. “Ia Cthulhu! Ia!” he shouted. The people responded in kind.

“Since the dark times before time itself, the old ones waited. Their world was taken from them and given to lesser creatures, mere mortals.”

“Ia!” chanted the congregation.

“We are inheritors of this world, a world which is not our own. But we see the light. We see salvation.”

“Ia!”

“The old ones wait in the void between worlds. Their messenger, Cthulhu, calls for us and them.”

“Ia Cthulhu!”

“He gifts us with wealth and prosperity. We gift him with sacrifice.”

“Ia!”

Another group of robed figures emerged onto the elevator platform, four of them, dragging a naked girl with them. James knew her, he was hired to find her. Eddie turned to him and said, “I think you’ve solved your case.” Then he turned back to the pit. “Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn! In his house at R’lyeh, dead Cthulhu waits dreaming,”

“Ia Cthulhu!” chanted the congregation.

“Cthulhu fhtagn! Cthulhu waits!”

“Ia!”

The figures on the elevator platform pulled the girl to her feet and edged her toward the blackness below.

James pleaded, “Eddie, you can’t do this. She’s just a girl.”

Eddie turned back to him, burning torches reflected in his eyes, “No. She will not believe. So she will be one with Cthulhu, our benefactor. Our savior.”

James shut his eyes and Eddie turned away.

“As great Cthulhu gives us wealth and power, so we must in turn give to him. We cannot give back what we were given, so we give of ourselves.”

“Eddie,” James said quietly, “it’s not too late. You can walk away. Throw the gold back down and bury it.”

“You refuse to understand, brother, what is given to us cannot be given back. It would be an affront to our benefactor. We accept of him and give of ourselves. Watch.”

On the platform, the robed people rocked themselves back and forth, chanting. The girl didn’t seem to know what was happening, drugged, and put her arms up; taking part in the chanting without understanding. Then as one, the four jumped off the edge with the girl in their arms. They did not make a sound. No one did. After several minutes of silence, the assembled crowd quietly said, “Ia Cthulhu.”

Eddie raised his arms and said, “A portal will be opened! Ready yourselves! Cthulhu is prepared to bring his people back into their world! We will usher them…”

Eddie continued as James slowly walked around behind him. He thought, we cannot give back what we have been given…it will anger whatever is down there. He looked down at the coin he was given. And then he looked at the pit.

The educated shadow behind him walked up behind him and said, “Yes. Do it. End this. We cannot.”

James turned and looked at him, “Why?” he asked, “Why can’t you?”

The man pulled back his robe hood. His skin had a greenish hue, his mouth was fish-like. James noticed, for the first time, that his hands were webbed. His eyes had green whites and his pupils were narrow slits. “You see,” the educated one said between needle-like teeth, “We are transformed into servants of the master. I can walk to the edge. I can want to drop it in, but I cannot. The master has that control over us. Save us. Save the world. Drop the coin.”

James turned and looked at his brother, arms raised, chanting. Something had been lowered from the ceiling, an octagonal ring. It had a glowing triangular green light at each corner. It seemed to hum and the pit’s breathing seemed to get stronger.

James slowly walked up beside his brother, looked at him. His brother connected eyes with him. And he dropped the coin down the pit.

Eddie’s eyes widened and appeared to bulge out of his head. “No!” he screamed and lunged at James, missed, and fell to the floor. The whole cave began to tremble. The robed figures around the pit scattered into the shadows. James ran towards where he came into the cave and just as he climbed the stairs, they collapsed. He stopped at the doorway and watched as a large chunk of the cave roof broke free and fell down into the pit. More pieces followed and the cave collapsed into itself.

James sat alone on the ferry as it slowly chugged back to friendly lands. He had it figured out, he thought- the cave with the pit and the mine. They had gone too deep underground. They had awakened something evil and lurking. The cave was gone, but James couldn’t help but think about that mine. It was still there. Its entrance was sealed, but the evil was still inside; lurking, waiting to be discovered again. More to his horror, he realized that there must be millions of mines which had tunneled deep enough-millions more opportunities for the evil to be released into its old world.