by JG Faherty
Before I went to Flannery with the letter, I had to read the entire thing, be sure nothing in it incriminated me in any manner.
I reluctantly smoothed out the papers and put them back in order, damning my father and his whole lineage as I did so. I had no desire to read another word, yet what choice did I have?
Fire is a tricky thing. I intended it to be a distraction, a minor emergency to occupy the attendants while I made my escape, but it spread faster than I anticipated and found some volatile chemicals in one of the storage rooms. The entire structure collapsed around me as I made my way through a basement tunnel I’d discovered. I should have been crushed, buried alive. Instead, the ancient floor gave way and I fell, battered by stone and earth, surrounded by fire, tumbling and screaming for so long I thought it might never end, that I would plummet for all eternity.
How far? A hundred feet? Two hundred? When I struck the water it might as well have been rock. The impact tore my breath from me and shattered my legs. I heard them snap, felt the agony even through the shock of the ice-cold water.
Broken and burned, I had no strength to move my arms and I sank into the dark depths, death closing in on me.
And then she found me.
I closed my eyes. I had a terrible fear I knew what came next. What the she was that he referred to.
The beast I’d seen. The behemoth residing beneath our town.
The slumbering giant. She Who Waits in the Shadows. I saw her, in all her massive glory. At first I knew only confused terror. I felt sure my impending death had robbed me of my senses, that the water in my lungs and the blood leaking from my wounds had stolen my sanity.
Then she touched me.
In that moment, I knew the terrible truth. I’d been wrong all those years. Good and Evil did exist. There I was, in the grasp of a hideous creature from the very depths of Hades, about to become victim to that which I’d scoffed at as superstition.
But instead of taking my life, she saved it.
Saved it? I couldn’t liken the image of the demon in the river to anything with compassion. Then I remembered my father’s ghastly features. Perhaps the creature had saved his life, but at what price?
And for what reason?
Silas’s next words answered my question and confirmed my worst fears.
Powerful limbs lifted me up from the water that I might breathe. I was badly injured, my body so wrapped in pain I never felt the sting of her kiss. But what happened next, that I felt. In every fiber of my being.
Her essence flowed through me!
It burned, those alien fluids. Boiling liquids surging through my veins, my muscles. A thousandfold worse than all my other injuries.
It was too much for me. Overwhelmed, I descended into a deep sleep, deeper than any coma. Much like a frog in a pond or a larva in a cocoon, I went into a type of hibernation, unaware of time passing.
When I woke, I lay on the shore of the river.
Healed.
Whatever elixir she used on me, my flesh was repaired, my broken limbs straight and strong again. But the miracle didn’t stop there. Her magic had also opened my mind to hers. Allowed me to see through her eyes, to know what she knew.
But not everything.
For like me, she was injured. A great fire in the past, wrought by small-minded people who couldn’t understand the gifts she had to offer. Since then she’d lain there, dormant. Waiting for someone to come along, someone who could help her finish her work, what she’d been sent here to accomplish.
In order to do this, she’d passed on to me, her chosen son, something of herself. Her lifeblood, her very essence. I died a man, and months later woke as something else. Something better.
I was no longer human, but an amalgam of two races. Do you remember your studies of ancient Greece and Rome? The tales of demigods such as Achilles, Hercules, Memnon, Aeneas, the products of couplings between gods and humans? I have become such a thing, Henry. No longer mortal. Her blood gave me life and her seed made me what you saw tonight. Her vessel of destiny.
Oh, the things I have seen and learned! We humans are but infants in this universe. There are uncountable worlds beyond this one, and creatures that can cross the infinite spaces between them. Places where gods rule and wage war at the cosmic level. They control sciences beyond our wildest dreams, have abilities so greater than ours that to us they would seem like magic. Just as the creatures themselves would seem as demons to our feeble intellects. Natural or supernatural become meaningless terms because we cannot comprehend the magnitude of possibilities in this universe.
Heaven and Hell exist, my son, but they are just two dimensions among millions.
I no longer knew what to think. This creature had destroyed what little sanity remained in my father, turned him into an abomination. Yet some part of him remained. I could see it in his choice of words, I’d heard it in his voice when he spoke to me in that cavern of the profane. The old Silas slipping through, the one who’d never suffered those of lesser intelligence and always followed his beliefs as if they were absolute truths. The same arrogant confidence that made him a superior surgeon also made him the worst type of madman.
The kind that wrote what I read next.
We have a plan, she and I. To remake the world.
That is why I needed the book. In it are the equations – spells, you would call them – I require that will enable me to truly control life and death, to bring about a new world with me as its king and the Star Mother the holy queen. In eons past, she passed that knowledge on to other disciples, but time and injury have robbed her of too many memories. I – we – need the book to finish what she started when she came to this world. This she has promised me, and now it shall be.
And I want you to be a part of it, Henry. You are still my son. I’ve already given you the gift of life, but I cannot spare you from what’s to come if you choose not to stand with me.
Think of it! Father, Mother, and First Son. A holy trinity that will rule over everything. Join me, Henry. I will be waiting for you. But do not delay your decision. Things move forward now. I have the book again, and with it I will return the Mother to her throne and take my seat beside her, so that we may open the doorway between the worlds. Three nights I will wait before I begin to call forth the dead, and if you have not come to me by then, I recommend you remove yourself as far from Innsmouth as possible.
Join him? That was what he wanted? For me to become like him, a blasphemous thing, part human, part…monster? Demon?
No! I could never. I’d sooner die than allow myself to be transformed into an ungodly creature such as he.
And die I might. His warning was quite clear. In three nights, he and his army of the dead would rise up and…what? Take over Innsmouth? Slaughter all those who refused to bow down before him?
I recommend you remove yourself as far from Innsmouth as possible.
A picture came to me, hordes of dead people crossing the bridges into Innsmouth, emerging from sewers and tunnels right in the heart of town, my father urging them on as they commenced their attack on the unsuspecting populace. How many undead things had he created? Dozens? Hundreds?
How many would he need?
I’d seen firsthand how hard they were to kill. Our pitiful police force would put some of them down, and plenty of citizens owned guns. But my father knew the town, and despite his physical changes still remained a man of high intelligence. He wouldn’t just march his army down the main street. He would have a plan, use stealth as a weapon.
The good people of Innsmouth wouldn’t even know what was happening until it was too late.
Remove yourself as far from Innsmouth as possible.
Sound advice. Advice I intended to heed.
My strategy for survival would be a simple one. If my father really had taken the book from Professor Angell’s dreadful storage room, there was
no time to waste. I didn’t have much money in the bank, but I’d been frugal since leaving school and there would be more than enough to reach the far side of the country. Or perhaps England; placing an ocean between myself and the impending plague might be even smarter. From there I could make my way farther inland, to Germany perhaps, or Italy.
Even Africa or India if I had to.
How far would be far enough? Innsmouth would fall, of that I had no doubt. But what town would be next? In which direction would Silas move from there? Would it be a straight line, or would his evil pestilence spread in ever-widening circles, a plague not of disease but demons, infecting everything in its path, and no cure in sight?
And how quickly would the inevitable happen?
Enough! No more chasing my thoughts like a dog trying to catch its tail. I had to act, and quickly.
Had it been only my own safety I worried about, I would have left right then. However, I had someone else to consider.
Flora.
Nothing on earth would get me to abandon her, not even the impending danger of hell opening up beneath the streets of Innsmouth. And since she still remained in Ben Olmstead’s protective custody, I would need to convince him as well of the impending danger. Ben could join us when we left the city and started life anew somewhere else, or he could remain behind.
Either way, I wasn’t departing without Flora by my side.
And God help Ben Olmstead – or anyone else – who tried to stop me.
Decision made, I stripped out of my befouled clothes, washed quickly, and dressed in good traveling attire: sturdy trousers, a plain white shirt, and both jacket and coat. I didn’t bother packing a bag; I’d take care of that later, after I brought Flora to her apartment and retrieved what she needed for an extended trip. Then I would visit the bank and withdraw my meager savings.
I paused long enough to pick up the pile of mail under the slot and toss it onto the entry table. I’d read it later. Or not at all; bills and correspondence no longer mattered. I’d be taking with me everything and everyone I cared about. Let the solicitors worry about the rest.
My only concern was how to convince Ben to let Flora accompany me, without things escalating to physical violence.
I patted my pocket, where my pistol sat loaded and ready.
If it came to that, Ben would not triumph.
Chapter Sixteen
I rapped on Ben’s door, bracing myself for the expected rejection – after all, we’d agreed I’d send word first so he could dose Flora with laudanum beforehand. I feared he might send me away, if he even bothered to answer the door.
“Henry! Thank God. Where in the seven hells have you been?”
His intense relief unnerved me and I almost told him what had happened, but at the last moment I changed my mind. There’d be no way to tell my story quickly, and no guarantee he’d believe me. I’d forgone a stop at the police station for the same reason. Babbling about demons living beneath the city would only get me tossed in a cell again – or worse – and I couldn’t afford that. Not now.
“I was working on something with the police through the night.” Innocuous enough, I hoped.
“And most of the day as well? We sent a messenger to your house this morning and there was no answer. He put a note in your mail slot. We held out until noontime, and then we couldn’t wait any longer.”
“Noontime?” I pulled out my watch, realizing as I did so that I’d not once checked the hour since I woke from my drug-induced stupor. I’d assumed it to be morning since I’d visited Old Innsmouth during the night.
When I saw it was almost four in the afternoon, I let out a gasp.
I’d lost nearly an entire day to my father’s dastardly venom!
“I…I didn’t check—”
“We need your help.”
“We?” Had Flora changed her mind about me? I stepped past Ben and into the hall, not even bothering to doff my coat and hat. I’d only taken a few steps toward his guest room when a soft voice to my right stopped me in my tracks.
“Hello, Henry.”
Callie stood at the entrance to the parlor with her hands folded, demure as ever in her long dress and smartly proper vest, as if she’d just come from work. But rather than her usual delicate smile, she wore a look of consternation the likes of which I’d never seen on her.
No, not consternation. Fear. I glanced behind me, where Ben still remained by the door, wringing his hands. What I’d taken for enthusiasm at my arrival I now interpreted more correctly as anxiety.
Flora!
“Something’s happened.” I glanced between brother and sister, neither of whom met my eyes. “What is it?”
“That’s why we tried to get hold of you. Her fever grew worse by the hour, and this morning she woke up speaking nonsense.”
“What did the doctor say?” Surely they’d called him. I made for the guest room but Ben’s next words brought me to a halt.
“She’s not there.”
“What?”
“The doctor came by last night. He prescribed more laudanum and cold baths for her fever. I called Callie to help me with, er, bathing. But this morning, when we tried to move her—”
“She cried out so,” Callie said.
“She wasn’t getting better,” Ben continued. “The doctor said there was nothing more we could do.”
Ben’s words turned my blood to ice and I struggled to breathe. No, it couldn’t be. She couldn’t be—
“When you didn’t show, we had to take her ourselves.”
Take her? “Take her where?” I asked through numb lips.
“The hospital. We’ve just now returned, to fetch heavier jackets and see if you—”
“The hospital? How could you?” My father had always said hospitals were the last refuge of the dying, the place you went when you had no hope. What had Flora’s physician been thinking? If only I’d been there to stop him, to care for her myself.
This was all Ben’s fault. If he hadn’t prevented me from seeing her….
“We had no choice. She—”
“You should have come for me.”
“We did, dammit! And you weren’t there.”
Ben’s exclamation jabbed me like a sharp knife and stopped whatever I’d been about to say. Tears ran down his cheeks and his eyes were as red as they’d been at Scott’s funeral.
I couldn’t fault him. They had come for me. They’d even left a message, which in my haste I’d failed to read. What more could they have done? Neither Ben nor Callie had any medical training; likely as not they’d never even been to a hospital, never seen the atrocious conditions….
But I had. More times than I preferred to remember.
I had to get Flora out of there before it was too late.
“We must go there. Now.” I grabbed my hat and hurried for the door. Callie asked a question, something about what I’d been doing with Inspector Flannery, but I ignored it. All I could focus on was getting to Flora and removing her to safety. Ben and his sister could come with us or not. Let the whole damn town rot in hell. I no longer cared about anything.
Except saving the woman I loved.
* * *
The stench of sickness and death struck us before we even reached the steps to the hospital, a miasma of unwholesome smells that trebled as we approached the doors.
Row upon row of metal cots ran down both sides of the long room. Tall arches indicated hallways and staircases that led to the various floors and wings of the aged stone building. From what I could see, beds filled every corridor.
The cries and moans of the sick and dying assaulted my ears as powerfully as their odors attacked the nose. Men, women, children, all calling for help or wailing in pain, their laments echoing from wall to wall until they blended into a cacophony of woe.
I drew my handkerchief and dabbed my
eyes, which wept from the pall of human disease and caustic cleaning agents that hung in the air. Ben coughed and gagged so violently I feared he might vomit. Callie had paled but she apparently possessed the stronger constitution so many women have, and didn’t appear in danger of fainting.
Harried-looking nurses in starched white aprons moved from patient to patient, mopping fevered brows and administering laudanum and other medicines. Here and there, physicians garbed in dark suits and serious miens examined the sick and dying.
“Where did you leave Flora?” I asked, taking Ben by the arm. He winced and I eased my grip.
“I, I think…that way.” He pointed to a corridor on our right.
“Are you sure?” I demanded. If we had to ask the administrator to locate her, it could take hours.
“I—”
“I’m sure.” Callie stepped ahead of us. “I remember exactly where her bed is.”
“Thank God someone has their wits about them.”
Ben frowned but said nothing as we followed Callie down a hall populated by every diseased state one could imagine. I feared for my own health while we strode past the coughing, the bleeding, and, in more than a few instances, the already dead, and tried not to think about the pestilence we might be breathing in. I did my best to keep my gaze straight ahead so as not to linger on those who’d shat themselves or cast the contents of their stomachs onto their sheets, but in some cases it couldn’t be avoided, much like the puddles of effluvia that randomly stained the floor.
Flora’s bed lay near the very end of the hall, just before the doors that led to the next wing. By the time we reached her, Ben had his handkerchief over his face and even my stomach was out of sorts. Even so, I’d thought myself inured to the overall conditions of the place.
I was mistaken.
Flora lay in a tangle of bedsheets that did little to hide her emaciated form. Her complexion, always Irish-pale, now held a decidedly sallow cast. Sweat beaded on her brow and dampened her hair to the point where the normally luxuriant curls hung in limp ropes that called to mind a horse’s tail after a long run. Her lips were bereft of color and dark smudges rested in the hollows below her eyes.
