The Lurker at the Threshold : A Horror Mystery

by Brandon Berntson

  He’d been curious about what had taken place since the growth serum had mixed with the reanimation serum. Lot 29, a serum that made things already alive bigger, had mixed with Herbert West’s reanimation serum, burying the sanitarium in a sea of new life. Anything could’ve happened in the months he and Millie had been away.

  “I’m worried about you and the Mad Arab, boss,” Macky said. “If he can influence you so easily, what’s to prevent him from doing so again?”

  “I’ve thought about, Dev, and I have a theory.”

  The day was moving by quickly. It was early afternoon. The drone of the coupe was the only sound. Beyond, Highway 117 seemed too dark, quiet, and lonely.

  “What’s that?” Macky asked.

  “Everything lies in the book. I think there are pieces of him in the book, if that makes any sense.”

  “It doesn’t.”

  “Whoever comes into contact with the thing acts as a catalyst in some way. People are gates themselves, susceptible to the forces that lie within The Necronomicon. I think it plays on hopes and dreams. You wanted to give Millie a gift. I wanted to be a part of something rare and valuable. But I’m also hopeful that, now that it’s out of sight, hopefully its influence is as well.”

  “That seems like a stretch, but here’s to hoping. It was gone before I found you.”

  “Maybe you helped break the spell in some way. Maybe he works better one on one. Or maybe he needed to get it to someone else. Maybe you helped break the spell, and he realized he’d have to try somewhere else, with someone else.”

  “I like the charming company explanation better.”

  “It does make one feel good about oneself, doesn’t it?” Capshaw said.

  “That means another gate is being opened because someone else probably has it. Who is he using?”

  “Anybody. The next person he sees.”

  “This is crazy,”

  “I agree.”

  “So, we talk to your friend,” Macky said, “then go back, find Millie, and find the book.”

  “Precisely,” Capshaw said.

  “And gates are being opened, and giant hounds are roaming the city.”

  “Correct.”

  “There’s no shortage of things to do.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  —

  It took them over an hour to get to Arkham. The first thing Macky noticed was the lack of rain. The sun was shining brightly over a vastly green, lush landscape even though it was approaching sunset. Arkham looked like a botanical garden. The summer had sped up the process. Was the serum still working its chemistry into the earth? Was Shub-Niggurath lying in wait below?

  He turned his attention to the asylum on the hill. Though he couldn’t see it, the density of foliage, verdure, and plant life looked like something from the prehistoric era. Not just the density of foliage, but the size. Leaves like palm trees, stalks of plants the size of tree trunks gave a density to the area that made it look like a jungle. The woods were no longer visible but buried under further growth. Plants and trees had corkscrewed, twisted, and arced in ways that made them look beautifully artistic. The boles and branches were shaped in alien, random configurations. Arkham had not only turned green. It was another world.

  He couldn’t help but wonder what was lurking below, however. If the serum had created this, what had happened to Shub-Niggurath? The tomb-legions? What had happened to every creeping, crawling thing that dwelled above and below the earth? Had they morphed into a new species? Macky thought of the worm that had killed Tiki, of Adelaide, and couldn’t help feeling sad.

  “Where to now?” Macky asked.

  “You remember where Miskatonic is?”

  “The university? All too clearly.”

  After some maneuvering through the streets, passing the Bannister Inn (several cars were parked in the lot), Macky found the university looking much brighter and cleaner under the late afternoon sun.

  The gray stone architecture looked more bleached, lush lawns, overhanging trees, and the soft, autumn sky.

  “This is all too familiar,” he said. “I didn’t expect to be back so soon.”

  “I’m sorry to dredge up old ghosts, Dev,” Capshaw said.

  They got out of the car. Macky let the man lead the way up the sidewalk to the doors. When he walked inside, standing in the same spot he’d stood with Millie, he was surprised when Capsahw cupped his hands and called, “Dr. Armitage! Are you here? Hello?”

  Macky turned and frowned. Henry’s life had been taken by the tomb-legions. Though he’d never seen the man’s body, he’d never doubted his demise. He was about to tell Capshaw this when he heard a voice, distinctly familiar, and bristling with all the cantankerous charm he remembered:

  “Confound it, what is it now?”

  “It can’t be,” Macky said under his breath.

  Capshaw turned toward him. “You said something, Dev?”

  Macky looked up. A face he couldn’t see was looking down at them, holding a lantern over the rail.

  “Impossible,” he said, under his breath.

  “What is it?” the voice called. “Who’s there? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

  “It’s me, Henry, Creighton. I need your help. I’m with a friend. Can we come up?”

  “Of all the blasted, inconsiderate, interruptions . . . there isn’t anything I can . . .Oh, confound it all to pieces!”

  It was the good doctor, Henry Armitage, alive and well, and as grumpy as ever. Macky couldn’t believe it.

  “Creighton, you say?” Armitage said. His voice seemed to soften as he remembered his friend. “Capshaw? From Innsport? You’ve made a long trip. Come on up.”

  “You see how easy that was?” Capshaw said.

  Capshaw said nothing about it on the way, and Macky had been too preoccupied with memories to ask.

  “The elevator still works,” Armitage said. “Feebly, but it works.”

  Macky looked to the cage elevator and sighed. “This old thing again.”

  “Huh?” Creighton said.

  “Nothing.”

  —

  When Macky got off the elevator and saw Armitage, it was as if nothing had changed. He was wearing the same brown tweed jacket, vest, white shirt, and bowtie. He wore dark brown corduroy trousers, two-toned cream and brown shoes. The same eyeglasses were on his face, beady and round, his hair mussed and spiky gray.

  “Good heavens!” the man said. “Is that . . . Devlin Macky?”

  “You remembered,” Macky said, smiling. “I thought Eric Moorland had . . . He said you were dead . . .”

  Their relationship had been frosty. Armitage had taken more to Millie than to Macky. But that had changed. The old man stepped toward, smiled wide, and wrapped his arms around him. It caught Macky off guard. When he pulled away, the smile transformed Henry’s entire visage.

  “How have you been, lad? Where’s that beautiful sidekick of yours?”

  “I’ve been good. She’s back in Innsport. That’s part of why we’re here. How on earth did you get away from Moorland?”

  Capshaw stood watching all this with some amusement. “I’m sorry, Dev. I never thought to say anything about Armitage. I assumed you knew.”

  “I wanted to surprise you,” Armitage said. “And I kept meaning to. But we had issues here for a while that needed our attention. Still do.”

  Macky didn’t know what to think. He stood shaking his head, but the smile never left his face. “I never thought to ask. I just assumed you were gone. I wanted to pay Addy a visit, too, but we have some problems of our own. How did you get away from Moorland, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  “He thought he killed me,” Armitage said, matter-of-factly. “Certainly. I thought he did, too. He dumped me in a cell after knocking me out. I think he planned on leaving me there to die, to be quite honest. But the chemical reaction, Lot Twenty-six flooded through everything, along with all the water building up. Some of the walls and doors were weak from all the moistur
e after so many years. I was able to get out in time, but just barely. I heard the blast as I was coming up the stairwell. I just missed being carried away by the serum. I assumed everything was your doing. I knew you’d think I was dead—Millie, too, so I didn’t expect you to come looking for me. I climbed up as fast as I could. The water and serum were rising, the floors and walls collapsing. I thought you and Millie hadn’t made it out. But I saw you both running up and out ahead of me just as I was coming up the stairs. I didn’t have the strength to call out, out of breath, the concussion. I got lost in another passage before finding another way up and outside. By the time I made it into town and to the hospital, you and Millie had already left. I was at the hospital for a while. I didn’t remember a whole lot during my recovery. And by the time I was released, I just wanted to get back to work. I had a feeling our paths would cross again soon enough. I didn’t expect it to be so soon was all. And we had issues here with the serum, with Lot Twenty-six. There were . . . creatures. Still are. Addy and I, and many of the townsfolk, have been busy trying to eradicate them ever since.”

  “Millie is going to be very happy to know you’re alive.”

  “I’m glad.” He turned to Capshaw. “So, what did you drive all the way out here for?”

  “That’s what we’ve come to talk to you about, Henry,” Capshaw said. “We need your help. The Mad Arab is wreaking havoc on the city. Gates are opening and closing. Yog-Sothoth. The Necronomicon.”

  Armitage frowned. “The Mad Arab? Good heavens! Are you quite serious?”

  Macky took a deep breath. “I’m afraid the whole thing is my fault.”

  “You’re fault?” Armitage said.

  Macky nodded. “I’ll try to give you the shortened version.”

  Chapter 11

  They were sitting around one of the large oak tables. The lantern light shed a soft amber glow. Capshaw and Macky briefed Armitage on everything that had happened since coming into contact with The Necronomicon.

  “You seem to attract the darker things in life, don’t you, Dev?” Armitage asked, one eyebrow raise.

  “It’s a gift,” Macky said. “I’m a monster magnet for mayhem. Through no fault of my own. Except this one. And Dagon. But that Arkham business was completely Millie’s fault.”

  Armitage nodded, but not at what Macky was saying. “The dark things in life have motives to kill and destroy. The regions around Innsport and Arkham are buried in myths and legends, dating back several hundred years. You have a special talent for recognizing them.”

  “I appreciate you wording it in a way to make me feel good about it,” Macky said.

  “Henry,” Capshaw said. “Miss Millie’s apartment has turned into a shrine of some kind, a landscape you’d see in a fantasy novel. It’s really quite beautiful is the thing, but Macky and I believe it could be dangerous. Goes against everything we’ve seen so far. Millie is there now. We haven’t much time. But I knew you’d know something about it.”

  “Describe it to me,” Armitage said.

  “It’s sort of . . . prismatic, I guess,” Capshaw said, thinking. “There’s a large lake to the north, deep woods. To the south is a celestial city, pillars of white marble. It’s breathtaking, to be quite honest, but it . . . also doesn’t feel right.”

  Armitage got up, went to a shelf, and pulled down several volumes. He put them on the table, rifled through one, and stopped at a page, reading it carefully.

  “Yes,” the doctor said. “The kingdom of Sarnath in the land of Mnar. Beauty. Kingdoms. And Millie. It makes perfect sense.”

  “What does that mean?” Macky asked.

  “Sarnath was a kingdom from several millennia ago. Beautiful, which I think is why Yog-Sothoth, or Abdul Alhazred, or even The Necronomicon, displayed it to her. Something she couldn’t resist because it gave no semblance to evil. She wouldn’t turn and run away. My guess is, it gave her a promise. That she would be its queen.”

  “That sounds like Millie,” Macky said.

  “Sarnath is beautiful. But . . .”

  “But?” Macky asked, raising his eyebrows.

  “Much of the Lovecraftian Mythos is rooted in dreamscapes and fantasy, it’s true. Aside from the cosmic horrors and madness, there are things of great beauty. Even benevolence. We can focus on Millie as a starting point, considering the history of Sarnath and its fall.”

  “Fall?” Macky asked, looking alarmed.

  Armitage nodded. “Yes. I’m afraid so. People of the Moon, they were called, the tribe that lived in the woods to the north. They would have been able to hide for years, which they did. The king of Sarnath wanted to eradicate them. He succeeded to an extent. But there were survivors. And they weren’t pleased. Nor should they be. The King of Sarnath stole their idol, took it back to Sarnath, and erected it in the middle of the city. Those who were left—the People of the Moon—waited in silence for many years. On a certain full moon, they ransacked the city, killing everyone there, and took back their idol.”

  “This story is going to play itself out, isn’t it?” Macky asked. “That’s what these gates are. They’re part of the Mythos.”

  “It sounds like it. It’s no different than your hound in the city,” Armitage said. “Same thing. If Millie has been captivated by the land of Sarnath, then she is, I’m sorry to say, to fall under the knife of the tribe. Sarnath’s past is playing itself out in Millie’s portal, her dimension, even her dreamscape.”

  “But this is no dreamscape,” Macky said. “It’s real! The entire apartment was . . .”

  “I understand, Dev,” Armitage said, nodding. “Regardless, the power of Yog-Sothoth is more than the three of us can handle. He might be using Abdul Alhazred for his own purposes.”

  Macky looked down and rubbed his temples.

  “Our first rule of business is to save Millie,” Armitage said. “And to find The Necronomicon. We have to make sure the portals don’t open. We must close the gates or Yog-Sothoth, and whatever other cosmic nightmares will be free to roam Innsport. And beyond.”

  “This is madness!” Macky said.

  The lantern light reflected in Henry’s glasses. “We are meant to be sidetracked, confused. That is the Mad Arab’s priority. To get the book into as many hands as possible, to read from its pages. To open doorways while he lays traps. The hound, Sarnath, Capshaw, and the book. These are all meant to separate and keep you occupied.”

  “At least three gates are open already,” Macky said.

  “My guess is perhaps five. You said the book was stolen. That means at least one more, and in that time, it may have fallen into other hands.”

  “They’re opening too fast.”

  “Precisely.”

  “And what if we’re too late?” Macky said. “What if we can’t get to them fast enough?”

  Armitage looked at him for a long time. “We pray. That’s the only thing we can do.”

  “That wasn’t the answer I was looking for.”

  Silence followed before Armitage spoke: “Yog-Sothoth is referred to as the Lurker at the Threshold. Yog-Sothoth is the gate, the key to the gate. Gomory is the first gate, which you witnessed.”

  “Yes,” Macky said. “That was the name we heard.”

  “I heard something else,” Capshaw said. “I can’t remember exactly, but it was speaking. Zagan, I think. Yes, that was it.”

  Armitage continued to nod. “Yes,” he said. “Zagan is the second gate. Sytry, the third, and Eligor, the fourth. Cthulhu is the last. They are trying to unleash chaos. There are other horrors unleashed on the city, I’m sure. We won’t know until we get back. But we have time.”

  Macky shook his head.

  “Abdul Alhazred worships the Old Ones, who are the Outer Gods, bound by time and space,” Armitage said. “Yog-Sothoth, mainly, and then Cthulhu. He’s acting as their disciple. Proving his loyalty. Doing their will, while adding more and more arcane knowledge to his own energy, spirit, manifestation, what have you. No doubt, they are granting him power. He
wants to let loose the Outer Gods, perhaps the Old Ones on Earth. In the words of Yog-Sothoth, he refers to us as ‘the irrelevance of humanity.’ They want to obliterate us.”

  “So how do we close the gates?” Macky said.

  “Incantations in The Necronomicon. I have some books here that may help us, though, but nothing for that, I’m afraid. Let me gather a few things.”

  —

  “Thank you for your help, Doctor,” Macky said.

  The doctor ignored him, put a couple of tomes under his arm, and started around the table. There was something on the other side of the lamp he grabbed and put in his pocket. Macky thought he saw the glimmer of gold, a green jade on a chain.

  “What is that?” Macky asked him.

  “Something that may help us. But I’m clueless as to how it works. The books may help. Creighton, could you grab that book there. That should give us time to research and do what we need.”

  Capshaw grabbed the volume Henry was pointing to and carried it under his arm.

  “I appreciate your help,” Macky said.

  Armitage smiled, came around the table toward him, and patted Macky on the cheek. “Anything to save Millie,” he said. “I’ve grown very fond of that young lady.”

  Macky looked at the two men. He looked at Capshaw. “I guess we’re ready.”

  Both men nodded and they followed Macky to the elevator.

  —

  “So, what happened to Arkham exactly?” Macky asked, once they were on the road to Innsport. Capshaw was in the back seat. Dark had fallen. They had been in Arkham for longer than Macky had hoped, over an hour. “Do you know anything about Adelaide Bannister? She and Tiki ran the Bannister Inn.”

  “Still does,” Armitage said. “She burned down asylum with the help of some of the townsfolk. The whole thing. What you saw earlier was the second growth. The reanimation serum mixed with Lot Twenty-six is still doing its work . . . where it spread anyway. I helped with some of it.”

  “How?”