The Adventures of Andrew Doran: Box Set

by Matthew Davenport

  Once again flying through the air, I had hoped to fly through the air and land amidst the first jeep. Unfortunately, leaping from a speeding truck driven by a second dead monster isn't something that people get a lot of practice at. Fortunately, I hadn't missed the jeep by much.

  As I arched over the jeep I managed to grab the strap of a machine gun that was around one of the dead men in the backseat. My legs hit the gravel, but I was saved by the dead thing staying seated in the truck. I wasn't sure how I was going to get my legs off of the gravel road and into the jeep, but I thankfully didn't have to figure it out.

  A grip that was stronger than almost anything I had felt before suddenly grabbed me by the back of the neck and swung me into the jeep. The jeep was filled with four of the undead things, with one driving and the other three riding as passengers. As I landed in the lap of the soldier who had inadvertently saved my life the three unoccupied soldiers began to hit me.

  To my surprise, I still had my pistol with me and I swung it forward and to empty the last three shells. I took the first two soldiers in the head, returning them to their inert state, but my third shot went wide and missed the final monster. I kicked him away from me and slid the magical .38 into my waistband again. The first monster that I had killed happened to be the one with the loose machine gun strap. I grabbed the gun off of him and filled the monster I had kicked off of me with bullets. I started at the abdomen, but remembered that the bullets hadn't done any damage to these things until they'd struck the head. Remembering that, I kept the trigger depressed and raked it up the body toward his head. The gun stopped firing suddenly. A quick glance told me that it was jammed. I spun it around then and, burning my hands on the barrel, swung it at the monster. I connected with his gun hand and sent his weapon flying away.

  He grabbed my machine gun from my burnt hands and threw it among the floor boards. We both stood in the jeep, balanced carefully on the seats as the driver mindlessly drove on.

  The monster leaned forward and swung at me. It was fast, but I had seen it coming and ducked it. I then came up and, cupping my fists together, knocked him once and then twice against the chin. A normal man would have been down for the count on the first of those hits, but the animated corpse standing before me didn't even flinch. Instead, he thrust out his own fist with remarkable speed and caught me on the chin, rattling my jaw. His second swing, which I didn't even see coming took me right under my left eye and dropped me back and onto my butt.

  I kicked up then, taking him first in his groin with enough force to make a living man pray for death and then twice more in the stomach. I took the small second it took him to register that I had kicked him to stand back up. Once I was on my feet, I began punching him as hard as I could in the face. It would have been more productive to punch a brick wall. He took each hit and then grabbed my wrist in mid-swing. He lifted me up and off of my feet by that arm and then brought his fist into my stomach repeatedly. I'd lost count of the punches when a jolt in the running through the jeep made him drop me.

  I looked up and noticed that Leo had slammed the brakes of his car, causing the jeep to ram them. I tried to stand but fell back into the seat. Trying again, I barely managed to square off against the monster. He seemed to be smiling.

  I shouted, hoping that Leo could hear me. "Do it again!"

  He must have heard me or the timing had been just right, because the Frenchman slammed on his brakes again and the jeep rear-ended the car. I jumped forward and tackled my assailant. My mass and the sudden deceleration of the jeep sent him reeling backward. As I landed on top of him, I made certain to aim his neck as best as I could, landing it directly on the frame of the windshield. His head rolled down off of the hood of the jeep and I collapsed in the passenger seat as the chase started up again.

  The mindless driver continued onward as he sat next to me, completely oblivious to my now being the only occupant to his vehicle. I reached behind my seat and grabbed the fallen machine gun and set to work unjamming it. Once I had believed I'd succeeded, I tested it on the driver and then slid into his position.

  I was tired, shot, hurting everywhere, and hadn't slept in longer than I cared to admit. It was time to end this.

  I slammed on the brakes. The jeep with Olivia in it was far enough behind me that it didn't crash into me. The dead driver pulled the jeep around and took off after Leo. I sped up once the car was past and got very close to the back of the other jeep.

  The clever Frenchman caught on and slowed his car down. Once the jeep had caught up to him, and prepared to ram him, Leo depressed his brakes and allowed them to. I used that moment and gunned the engine ramming their jeep with as much force as I could put behind the military vehicle. It was a risky move, because none of the rotting monsters would have been any more affected by the jarring accident any more than they had been by the gunshots. It also had the severe risk of harming or killing Olivia, but at this point we were

  out of options. We couldn't shoot at them without risking hitting our French damsel, and I couldn't get close enough to take the jeep as I had this one without getting shot. The surprise of an overturned truck can only fool the dead once.

  As soon as the jeeps and the car had all come to a stop, I scooped up the machine gun and jumped from my vehicle. Much closer to the jeep now, I had no fears about shooting and emptied the entire machine gun into the dead things sitting with Olivia. Leo joined me in the midst of the mayhem and helped me drag Olivia's still unconscious form from the vehicle.

  Together we allowed Olivia to get some air and come to on her own, even though we both knew that this reprieve from action might not last. When she finally came to, we explained what had happened. She looked unbelievingly at me as Leo explained what he had managed to see me do from the mirror of his car.

  "I guess there is much more to you than guns and books, Andrew." She said as we all seated ourselves back into the car.

  I smiled a very sore and tired smile at her then. "I can cook, too." Olivia returned my smile and Leo changed the subject.

  "If you don't mind, Dr. Doran, I'll drive while you recuperate in the backseat."

  I agreed without hesitation. I doubt I could have kept my eyes focused on anything let alone the road at that moment.

  ***

  Getting into Switzerland ended up being a simpler task than anything that we had come across so far. Olivia and Leo's connections within the French Resistance got us across the border and into neutral territory without any trouble at all. Once across the border, we all began to breathe easier and weights that had been riding on all of shoulders simply melted away. For the first time since I had met her, I heard Olivia's laugh and it was as bright and energetic as the look in her eyes would have suggested.

  The last of the drive to Geneva took only another thirty minutes and we got there just in time to see the citizens moving about their mornings.

  We asked only two people where we could find Father Blake Fredericks and they both directed us across Geneva and to a small hut with crosses on the door. The untrained eye would have seen those crosses and thought that the end of it. I knew better. My eyes caught the warding symbols of the Necronomicon etched in the wood near the roof. This was definitely the place the old preacher had come to repent for his sins.

  Father Blake greeted me with a hug that sent aches through my aches, but I accepted it greedily.

  Olivia and Leo were greeted in much the same manner, with the Father winking at me when he pulled away from Olivia. I leaned toward him and whispered.

  "You're to be atoning for sins, not creating new ones," and I winked back.

  He shrugged and laughed. "No one is perfect. Not even you, Andrew."

  We all sat then and the Father fed us. Over dinner I explained what had brought us here and everything that had transpired since leaving Miskatonic. Some of what I had to say was new to my companions as well, and they listened with rapt attention. The Father, while American by birth, understood French, and we conversed in that la
nguage so to not alienate my allies.

  When I had finished, Father Blake crossed his arms. "I'm sorry, my friend, but I don't know if I can help you." My heart fell. I did not look forward to going into Berlin blind.

  "But," he said. "I think I know who can." He grabbed a roll of bread from a basket at the center of his small table and started talking over mouthfuls of bread. "You were correct. I have heard of the book falling into German hands. I have also heard of many greedy beasts screaming their jealousy from the rooftops. Some of them have even threatened to join the Nazi menace in hopes of at least catching a glimpse of your cursed book. As for where it could be, your estimate sounds the most likely. The Traum Kult are owned by the Nazi party,

  and the book could only be used properly by them." He took a swig of his drink. "Rumors and guesses are all that I have to offer, but I know who can help you. There is a scientist in Bern, two hours east of here. His name is Karl Freeman." He grimaced as if the name caused him pain. "He is American like us. I knew him from...my old life. He still lives with his beliefs and won't be easy to persuade to help you, but I think you'll get a more specific answer out of him. He's odd, and you should be cautious of anything he says to you."

  "Bern?" Olivia asked.

  Father Blake nodded. "It is an old city, with many..." he looked at me then, "secrets. I suggest you all stay here for a day or two and see to your wounds. Maybe you could get a little rest before moving on."

  I was eager to get to Berlin, but I had been running on no sleep for too long. I had also been dragged through hell and back in regards to what my body had gone through and was unsure if I would last another day.

  No matter how eager I was, the rest would be more than welcomed.

  Chapter 6: Cool Air in Berne

  Two nights in the company of Father Blake was two years too short with the jovial father. I had forgotten how much his attitude had lightened when he no longer begged for the rise of Cthulhu. Father Blake loaned us his car, under the condition that we promise not to tell anyone where we picked it up.

  Even in Switzerland, trust had become a rare commodity.

  We drove for a little under two hours before we found ourselves deep in the city of Berne. It took us another hour of questioning the locals before we located an address for Karl Freeman. The locality of Berne was not very excited at the mention of Karl Freeman, and I was surprised by the relief this caused inside me. Father Blake had claimed that Karl Freeman was a member of the Cult of Cthulhu. Well, he was a member of at least one of them. The cults were many and widespread. Some didn't even know that they were followers of Cthulhu, and others were primitive by means of technological advancement but thousands of years in advance of us in spiritual worship.

  My relief had found home in the fact that if the people of Berne were hesitant to talk about Karl Freeman, than he must be a scary man to know. That meant Father Blake had been right; Karl Freeman was the man who could tell me about the location of the Necronomicon.

  Leo had decided that he'd had enough of old men and dropped us off at the address to go find a place for us to stay. Hopefully, he'd also find us a way into Germany, but I decided to worry about that later. Leo hadn't been speaking much since he'd learned about the existence of the book. I doubted that he thought of it as anything more than a tool to be bartered with, but he knew that the Germans valued it, and that gave it value to the French Resistance.

  I still had my doubts concerning his motives, but there was nothing that I could do about it then.

  He left us in front of a short apartment building. It looked ancient and from the outside, Olivia and I could tell that most of the apartments were empty. The building was made of large stones and the roof had no slant to it. If I had to muster up my courage to enter, it was only to get past the dilapidated exterior.

  Pushing my fear of structural inadequacies aside, I marched toward the door. I didn't make it two steps before Olivia grabbed my arm.

  "I don't like it." She said through eyes that projected deep fear.

  "Don't like what?" I asked.

  "This man, this building, this city." Olivia looked at me then, instead of the building. "You're the one with the magical toys, can't you feel the...evil?"

  I reached out with my mind, but even I couldn't sense much of anything from this distance. I could feel what room Karl Freeman was in, but only barely. Whatever relationship he had with the Old Ones, his connection wasn't a strong one.

  It surely wasn't anything that someone with as weak a connection as Olivia should be able to sense.

  "I sense nothing." I eyed her. "You can wait outside, I should be safe."

  Olivia shook her head. "No, if you're going in, I'll follow." The look on her face was of unease and pain. I was unsure if it was pain at first, but a second look told me that whatever she was feeling, it caused her actual pain.

  I took the stairs two at a time once we entered the apartment complex. Olivia took them a little slower, but I'd already decided I wasn't letting anyone slow down my mission.

  The energy I'd sensed was on the third, and top, floor of the building. We came up on the landing and I slowed my pace to approach the door. As I touched it, the door pushed open, slowly. It was unlatched and I found myself wondering if maybe Olivia had sensed something that I should have. I glanced back at her and was surprised by what I saw.

  Olivia was drenched in sweat and had grown sickly pale. She looked as if she was about to collapse.

  I grabbed her around the shoulders. "What's going on?"

  She shook her head with effort. "I don't know." She straightened then. "I'll be fine. Do what you have to do. I'll...guard the door."

  I smiled at her then. "Just like the French."

  She returned it only half-heartedly. "Don't make me shoot you, American."

  I turned from her then and back to the door. I'd left my scabbard in the truck again, trying not to draw any attention to myself, but I wore my holster and the magical .38. I wouldn't feel safe unless I had both weapons, but I couldn't have the best of both worlds.

  Putting my hand on the door, I gave it a shove with my left hand as my right hand fell to the pistol. As the door creaked open, I was greeted with a blast of cold air from inside the room. There were no lights on in the cold room, but I could hear the whirring of a small motor and could smell something chemical.

  The blast of air that had greeted me at the door stayed with me inside the room. The entire apartment was at least 40 degrees cooler than the corridor outside. I assumed that the room was kept at that temperature by the mechanical sound I could hear.

  I took two more steps into the dark room before I was halted by a sounds that I could not make out. I drew my pistol and held it up, prepared for the worst.

  "Is anyone home?" I tried my best to peer into the blackness, but it did me no good. I was just about to take another step into the room when a was startled by a dry voice calling out.

  "Stop." It said, and I was unsure at first if it had even said that much. The voice sounded as if it was incredibly parched. A glass of water would go above and beyond in aiding the speaker, I was sure. "Stop." Louder and stronger this time. "Please. Do not come any further."

  I did not want to give any knowledge away without getting any in return. Instead of asking if it was Karl Freeman, I only asked, "Who are you?"

  "You know very well that I am Karl Freeman, Dr. Doran. I left the door unlatched so that you would be able to enter without me having to walk to the door. I expected no visitors today other than yourself." There was no discernible accent in Mr. Freeman's voice. Wherever he might call home, I had no doubt that he had originally come from a predominantly English speaking country, and most likely America. I hesitated before asking, "You expected me?"

  He made a noise that sounded more like choking, but which I assumed must have been a laugh or snort. "You know of my background, Doctor. Please don't play me for a fool." He was quiet for a moment, but I could sense that it wasn't my turn to talk yet. "W
hile I might not be able to predict the weather, I have no trouble when it comes to men of considerable means paying me a visit."

  The background that he was referring to was that of a worshiper of Cthulhu. To open your mind to Cthulhu's dreaming projections was as likely to threaten your sanity as rubbing a match against the grain was likely to cause flame. It was argued in philosophical circles that if you were able to come out of the experience with most of your faculties still under your control than you'd be capable of feats of the mind such as predictions or telekinesis. The other side of the argument was that no one who accepted the dreaded lord Cthulhu as their leader would ever again have enough sanity to be within control of their own faculties.

  "As a matter of fact," Karl continued. "I expect a great many things..." He let his voice trail off, and I waited for him to continue. "Is she in the hall?" He spoke up.

  I could only assume that he had sense the arrival of Olivia as well as myself. "Yes. She felt ill at ease and preferred to stay in the hall."

  Karl Freeman let out dry wheezing cough sound again and this time it was loud enough that I could hear some resemblance to a laugh. "Ill at ease, I am sure." He paused again. Whether he continued these pauses for effect or for breath I did not know. "Her kind will find that it is not welcome here."

  No matter how I worked my mind around it, I knew that he did not mean the French when he had said "her kind." I was suddenly in deep dread of my companion, but didn't let it show. Instead, I asked, "Women? The French? What kinds are not welcome here?"

  "French is she?" He asked. "I'm sure...yes. That would make sense. No, Dr. Doran, by her kind I am referring to lies."

  "Lies?" I pressed.

  "Yes," Karl rasped from his hidden corner. "This room is the pinnacle of truth and only truth can find a home here. Lies are veils and in this room there are no veils. All is bared for the guests to see."