by Greig Beck
Matt dimly became aware of the shaking of his arm, firm, then firmer, and then the voice. He blinked and licked lips that were parchment dry. Adira sat next to him. Abrams and Hartogg in front and Andy Bennet behind.
“Huh?” He felt groggy.
“We land soon.” Adira leaned around in front of him, trying to look at his eyes. “You’ve been at this non-stop for twelve hours. How are you doing?” She handed him some water.
Matt took the cup and drained it. He knew exactly what she was asking – the question wasn’t so much one of concern for him, but for his progress.
“More time. I need more time.” He waved her away and picked up the pen again. Once more he felt himself slide back into the dream. Time passed and he would not remember it. Instead, what Matt experienced was a world to come. He saw the images of what had been before, and what was to be for the human race – vile creatures herding humans like long lines of cattle into caves and holes and basements. The things like many-limbed amoebic blobs, eyes and mouths forming and unforming on their disgusting hides, towering over their human stock, uncaring, unfeeling, little more than army ants for a monstrous leader yet to come.
From time to time, one human soul would break away, but would be quickly chased down, grabbed, lifted and stuffed into a puckered hole that opened in one side of the dark horrors.
Matt wept as his hand flew across the page. The lines of people were endless – thousands, hundreds of thousands, and many more kept corralled in yards, waiting, waiting. The other billions of humans fled in panic, but nowhere would be safe, as they too were part of a grand new plan.
And then that too became clear. A huge living thing lifted itself from the Earth, its size beyond anything in human memory. It grew and grew, squeezing forth from the underground like a huge mass of pus from a wound torn open. Alhazred had tried to describe what he saw, but his words fell short of fully describing the horror. It was wormlike – a pulpy, rubbery-looking body, pulsing with enormous strength, that barely supported a grotesque octopus-like head. But the worst of all was the thing’s face – masses of eyes dotted the head, spider-like in their tight clusters, and each one glistened with a frightening but pitiless intelligence. Matt could already feel its malevolence, and its…hunger…as it rushed upward to sate its lust for flesh.
Matt placed hands over his ears as the scream of countless people rang out when the huge head dropped down upon them, its maw open wide.
“No!”
He was caught then, trapped, the tentacles wrapping around his body; he fought, but the bonds were unbreakable. There was a sharp slap across his face, and he opened his eyes. There were arms around him, and he found Adira gripping him and holding him in his seat. Hartogg and Abrams leaned over their seat backs and stared down at him.
Adira grabbed a towel and dabbed at his forehead. “You were crying out. I’ve been trying to break your trance.” She wiped his hair back with the damp towel. “We’ve been worried.”
“I’m okay.” Matt didn’t feel okay, and he could feel his heart careening in his chest. His stomach still felt like it was swollen with a poisonous liquid.
“It’s the Book, I…” He looked down. There were hundreds of pages written in Syriac, Greek and Arabic calligraphy. “Did I do that?”
She smiled. “You’ve done nothing else.” Her forehead creased in confusion. “You don’t remember?”
Matt shook his head. “All the people, the entire world is doomed if we don’t stop it.”
She gripped his arm. “Did you find something?”
Matt closed his eyes for a second or two and willed himself to calm down. “I saw it, and it will consume us all like grains of rice.”
Adira’s fingers dug in, and her gaze intensified. “Professor Kearns, did…you…find…something we can use?”
Matt searched his memory, rifling through the images. At last he slumped. “No.”
“Ach.” Adira let him go and leaned back into her chair. She breathed calmly in and out for a few seconds. Abrams and Hartogg sat back down in their own seats.
She smiled sadly. “Buckle up; we’re landing.” She seemed to think for a while, and turned her head. “Matthew, I think you do know, but perhaps you just don’t know it yet. The answer is there. Alhazred found a way – you will too.”
Matt sat back. “I need to rest for a while.”
Abrams’s voice floated back immediately. “Sorry, Matt, not yet; we need to report straight back to base. And you’ll be coming, Professor.” He stood up to look at Adira. “And we’ll be on home soil and safe. Captain, you have been of enormous help, but there are too many people who do not want you roaming around the countryside. I’m afraid you don’t get to leave the airport, and will be on a turnaround plane within twelve hours.” He sat back down.
Adira closed her eyes.
Chapter 17
Moore Observatory, Oldham County, Kentucky
“Amazing, simply amazing. You can almost feel it.” Walter Brayshore held out a hand, flat, and flexed stubby, white fingers, wiggling them in the air. “They…tingle.”
“Huh?” Geoff Swartz didn’t look up from the screen. “Pringles? None left.” He continued tapping keys and rotating the powerful 24-inch Ritchey–Chrétien telescope to follow the celestial body convergence occurring almost directly overhead.
“No, tingles.” Walter swung in his chair to stare at his fellow astrophysicist. The bearded scientist leveled his thick-lensed gaze at his colleague. “Tingles, I said.” He held out a stubby arm and shook the hand in the air. “See?”
Swartz turned, and then let his gaze run from Walter’s face to his hand. He held out his own for a second or two, shrugged, and then swiveled back to his screen. “It’s not related. Focus.”
Walter blew air through his lips and went back to his own screen. Focus, he repeated softly. Geoff was right; this was important. The Moore facility was tiny and its primary responsibility was to measure transiting exoplanets – a fancy name for mapping celestial bodies as they move over the face of another. And what was happening right now, in their own astronomical backyard, was big news.
Walter swung back again. “This won’t happen again for another thirteen hundred years…and we, my friend, are in the box seat.” He whooped, fist pumped, and then grinned, his tiny teeth just showing through his straggly beard.
Geoff wiped a hand up over his brow, continuing up and over his thinning hair. “Jesus, man, I’m hot; are you hot?”
“Huh?” Walter shook his head. “Not really.” He lifted one meaty arm; there was a huge wet ring under it. “Maybe a little.” He went back to his screen.
A line of dots was strung up overhead – some the size of grapes, and others little more than pinpricks of light. Geoff sipped from a bottle of water. “And in twenty-four hours, when the big cheese rolls around, we’ll have them all in a line.”
Walter clapped once, and his feet stomped under his seat. “I can’t wait, I can’t wait, I can’t wait.”
Geoff stood up, frowned, and then kicked off his brown slippers. He clawed his toes on the floor – three feet of solid concrete foundation for telescopic stability. “Hey, I knew it.” He clawed his toes some more. “This is where the warmth is coming from – the floor. It feels like it’s heated.”
Walter turned and blinked at him. He stared for another moment, and then got his feet. He stepped out of his prized Australian sheepskin boots – Uggs, he called them. He also clawed his toes. “Holy shit, man; you’re right.” He looked up. “You don’t think…?”
Geoff shrugged and looked at his feet. “Why not? With that amount of focused gravity it absolutely could cause crustal friction. The displacement alone would throw up a few extra degrees.” He looked up. “Is it a problem?”
Walter pursed his lips. “One or two degrees…now. But what about in twenty-four hours when the moon lines up as well?”
Geoff winced. “We better tell someone.”
“I’m not going outside; way too much weird s
hit going down.” Walter sat down and went back to his screen. “So, I agree, you better tell someone.”
*
Fort Benning, Columbus, Georgia
Matt felt overwhelmed by the assembled military crowd packed into the room. Abrams had brought them directly to Fort Benning, the new command centre, and one of the largest army posts in the US, with over twenty thousand active-duty military. According to Abrams, it could deploy combat-ready forces by any delivery medium at a moment’s notice. Matt guessed if there was one place you wanted to be when preparing for a home-turf war, it was right there.
A long table had been set up on a platform at the front of the hall-like room. Abrams sat next to Matt and Andy, and along from him was the general, Decker. Hartogg had showered, shaved and was down the back. When Matt caught his eye, he nodded and gave him a you’ll-be-fine gesture.
Dozens of seats were lined up and filled by various military personnel. Most sat talking in groups or with arms folded, eyes like hawks trained on the team at the front.
“Ladies and gentlemen.” Decker’s voice boomed, shutting down the chatter. “We are enacting War Plan Red.” The general’s eyes moved across the senior people in the room. None flinched at the term for a strategy to deal with a mainland invasion.
“We envisaged a non-indigenous force would one day seek to either occupy the mainland territory, or try and decimate the population through a weapon of mass destruction. We always envisaged that invasionary plan would be human foreign-power enacted. The ground has shifted under our feet – literally. Ladies and gentlemen, here are the facts.”
Decker clasped his large hands together. “An enemy force is already among us, capturing, subverting and killing our people.” Decker nodded to the rear of the room and the lights dimmed. The wall behind him lit up, and then the horrors appeared. The screen showed the Shoggoth in the containment cell. People sat forward, faces twisted in disgust, and there was angry murmuring.
“Jesus Christ, what the fuck is that thing?” came from one large man in the front row.
The thing was shown feeding – its body bloating as it consumed the flesh. Pulsating eyes popped open on its glistening dark hide, and ever more mouths opened as it consumed its prey, ripping it first to shreds, and stuffing the pieces of dripping meat into the holes.
The crowd shifted uncomfortably. Decker’s face was impassive. “Like I said; things have changed.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the images. “What is it? Hell if I know. It’s called a Shoggoth. But as for what it really is, our best and brightest have no idea. We can analyze its characteristics and make some educated guesses.” He lifted some notes. “High percentage of water, amorphous striated muscle that’s enormously strong and pliable. Has a toxic mucous layer in cells that are like chromatophores, except they don’t just allow the thing to change color, they also allow it to change shape.” Decker looked over his shoulder, his face like stone. “When this…thing was brought in, it looked like a man. The closest we can come up with is that it’s more closely akin to some sort of giant, semi-intelligent slug than anything else.”
Decker exhaled between his teeth and moved to the next image. This one was a film that started rolling as soon as it appeared. It showed an aerial shot of a large and deep sinkhole, with dozens of people milling around, some taking pictures. The people stopped moving, and all stared in the same direction – toward the rim of the pit.
Something came up out of the dark hole. Matt expected it to be some of the horrifying Shoggoth, but the thing’s body kept coming. At first it looked like dark scaffolding: long shiny legs gripped the edge of the pit, claws digging in to the concrete, and then it dragged the rest of itself free.
Long insectoid legs, shining in the sunlight, and all spiked and barbed like a monstrous locust. It rose higher and higher, gaining a height of about three stories. Its long body was that of a primitive reptile with short stubbed tail, and it had a mottled hide more like bubbled flesh than scales or skin.
It seemed to lack eyes, but the enormous head swiveled toward the people, who were all apparently rooted to the spot. They finally started to flee, but the creature moved, fast – too fast for something that size. It quickly ran down its prey. A long sticky tongue shot out, lapping at the fleeing bodies, and, like ants on an anteater’s, people were glued to the long tongue and reeled back up and into the open mouth.
“That’s enough,” Decker said softly. The image froze behind him, and the room sat in silence for several seconds.”
“The National Guard took this monstrosity out…eventually. Had to blow it to pieces and burn what was left. Like the Shoggoths, it is – was – we believe, a primitive form of life, but not mindless. These bastards are moving to a plan…under orders. They’re feeding, yes, but they’re also stopping us from entering the sinkholes.”
“Where the fuck are these things coming from? Are you saying they’ve been under our feet the whole time?” asked another granite-faced military man, chin jutting. Matt saw he had enough bars to cover most of his left breast, and sat with folded arms across a button-popping frame. Matt had been introduced previously – he was Fort Benning’s Commanding General, James McAllister. To date, he had seemed most pissed off because Decker, of equal rank, had been given mission seniority.
Decker shook his head. “I don’t know where they were, or where they’re from. Our seismology teams are getting readings from across the globe of activity about a mile down that are not related to anything geological. We’re also getting data in now, on the planet’s crust starting to warm. Probably related.” He shrugged. “The issue for today is, these things are here, now, today.”
“Whose orders? You said they were under orders?” McAllister asked.
Decker nodded to the man. “We believe there are two distinct forces at work against us.” He nodded again and once more images appeared behind him. The smiling tanned face of Charles Drummond filled the screen.
Decker’s mouth turned down as if he had just smelled something bad. “Charles Sheldon Drummond – movie production, publishing, media consulting – in the field of entertainment or communications, you name it, the guy had his thumb in it. Seems he’s been financing some sort of global cult that intends to aid and abet whatever is occurring right now. Drummond has also shown aggressive intent to slow down our efforts to even understand what is going on. My team was attacked in Egypt – people were tortured and killed. More worrying is that it showed us we have been infiltrated. One of our own people was a sleeper agent for Mr Drummond. This group has now gone to ground. Whatever is occurring is at point of culmination.”
McAllister shifted in his seat. “The sinkholes, the quakes, the weird creatures, the people attacked, and also disappearing – I can see the effects; they’re as plain as the nose on my face. But that doesn’t tell us what this culmination point is, or what’s about to occur.”
Decker sat back for a moment. “We had an interesting conversation with some of our observatories yesterday. Seems the celestial convergence that is occurring now is producing some physical manifestations – abnormal gravity effects causing crustal friction resulting in a rise in ground temperature. Also, the sinkholes have begun to outgas nitrogen – by itself nothing serious. But in combination with other phenomena, it starts to build a picture.” He turned to Abrams. “Joshua, do you want to take it from here?”
“Thank you, sir.” Abrams sat forward. “Our Earth was formed a little over four and a half billion years ago, and the Moon formed about thirty million years after that. At that time, the Earth was nothing but an ocean of magma. When the Moon did coalesce and first form, it was very close to the Earth, possibly as close as twenty thousand miles away – still sounds a lot until you realize that the moon is currently more than ten times that away now. That lunar proximity would have had a tidal effect even on the seas of molten rock.”
Abrams interlocked his fingers on the table. “Once the world cooled, it was another billion years before even single-cell l
ife appeared…and then it took four billion more before the first rudimentary animals evolved. Those missing billions of years have always perplexed scientists – there should have been something…more.” His face was grim. “Now we think there might have been. In this primordial stage of the Earth’s life, we believe there may have been a rise of other life-forms in the nitrogen-rich, high-gravity, high-heat planetary climate. Something that rose to dominate the world, and then, for whatever reason, fell away either into death or long-term hibernation.”
“Below the crust,” said Don Mancino, McAllister’s senior officer.
“Below the crust, below the ocean.” Abrams shrugged. “Whatever this race was, it attained a civilization of sorts and also had a high level of intelligence. Now, the Earth is unique among the terrestrial planets in having a large satellite, and we know the emergence and development of life has been strongly influenced by the presence of the Moon. It affects our oceans and tides. It affects our planetary rotation, and it can even affect our moods. Well, this effect is about to be increased ten-fold by a planetary line-up, a celestial convergence. The planet will be warmer, gravity will be altered, and perhaps the atmosphere itself will change – the higher nitrogen is indicative of the planetary atmosphere of about four billion years ago. In effect, the environment will be altered…”
“Terraforming,” Mancino said, matter of factly. “The environment will be temporarily more primordial.”
Abrams nodded but then turned to Matt. “Now, another piece of the puzzle. Professor Kearns…”
Matt nodded, feeling light headed, the lack of sleep dragging on his frame. From a satchel he pulled free the manuscript he had completed, now bound with simple boards. He opened it, knowing exactly where he needed to go.
