Keyport Cthulhu

by Armand Rosamilia

  "What if they go to the authorities?"

  "How can they? I said they were let go from the pit. I did not say they could escape Keyport. I've made arrangements. No one will be leaving tonight. We're taking out the bridge leading north, closing the roads to Route 36 with a massive sewer break, and the Esoteric Order of Dagon will be patrolling for those who need to be inside on this glorious night. I suggest you go back to the house and await the final command."

  "This is madness," Harrison said as he stomped away, trying not to look back as his wife was, once again, led to her doom in a rowboat.

  * * * * *

  Matthew was pissed. Not only had Tina acted like a bitch and gotten out of the car, but now this twisted old man was harassing her. "How about you walk away and leave her alone?"

  The old man ignored him, which made Matthew angrier. This guy was going to run interference between Matthew and Tina, and he couldn't have it. He needed her mad at him so the makeup make-out session that followed would be intense. He'd tell her he loved her again and he was sorry for being so rude or whatever she wanted to hear, and then he'd see how far he could get with her in the backseat of his car. But this guy was in his way.

  "I won't tell you again," Matthew said and tried to get between the man and Tina, who was leaning against the back of his car and hugging herself. "I will fight an old man."

  "Matthew, please. Father Rocco needs my help," Tina said.

  "I'm not helping this smelly old dude. Did you take a bath in garbage?"

  The old man smiled. "I woke up in a dumpster. I apologize for my ripeness but there is really no time to clean up. Time is not on our side tonight, I fear." He turned back to Tina. "We must act quickly."

  "Tell me what needs to be done," Tina said.

  "What are you talking about?" Matthew put an arm on Tina's shoulder. "I'm sorry for telling you about my story. I'll take you home so your dad doesn't freak out."

  Tina shook her head. "I need to stay here, in Keyport, and help Father Rocco."

  "What, is he from your church or something? One of your dad's Baptist buddies?"

  "Your father is a minister?" Rocco said and grinned. He looked up. "This is truly the sign I needed." He turned back to Tina. "We have much work to do. Where do you live?"

  "In Hazlet."

  Rocco stopped smiling. "We won't make it out of Keyport. I was hoping your dad could help me as well. But beggars can't be choosers, as they say."

  Matthew shook his car keys. "I'm leaving."

  The priest and his date were talking about bullshit like heaven and hell and other nonsense, so he got into the car and started it. He glanced in the rearview mirror but they hadn't noticed and Tina was still against the trunk. What the hell? Matthew was hoping she'd get his subtle hint and get in the car, but she was too busy with the old man, who was probably a pedophile. Matthew was so going to put this jerk into his next story and kill him off in the most horrible way.

  "I am driving away," Matthew said as he got back out and left the car running. "Unless you're planning to sit on the trunk while I drive, I suggest you move… or, better yet, get in the car."

  "Sorry," Tina mumbled before stepping away from the car and following the priest a few feet away.

  "I don't want to see you anymore," Matthew said loudly.

  Tina and the priest were still talking, and the old man was saying weird words that sounded made-up.

  Matthew got back in the car and drove away, watching them in his mirrors as he drove past Keyport Fishery and headed north. She'd be calling him in the morning and begging for forgiveness, and he'd use it to his advantage. Tina would be on her knees by tomorrow night, asking for him to unzip his fly and…

  "What the hell now?"

  The road just over the bridge was blocked off, orange drums and flashing lights and a sign announcing the road was closed. They'd come this way not thirty minutes ago. Matthew couldn't see anything wrong with the road ahead.

  He got out of his car and looked around, but he didn't see anyone or anything, besides the blockade, to keep him from driving over the bridge. He didn't have time for this shit.

  Matthew had grabbed the first work horse in his way and started dragging it off to the side when he saw a shadow detach from the other side of the road. A flash of light showed a weathered face as a man lit his cigarette with a match.

  "I wouldn't do that if I were you," the man said. "In fact, I'd put it back where you found it, turn your piece of shit car right around, head back into town and go find a nice place to hide for the evening."

  "Why would I do that?" Matthew said, trying to sound confident.

  The man stepped into the light and smiled through cracked and yellowed teeth. "Because things are about to get interesting around here, and everyone should stick around and be a part of it… just in case we need some warm bodies."

  Matthew ran and got back into his car, locking the door. He toyed with the idea of simply crashing through the barrier. It would only add a couple of new dents to the Kia, so it was no big deal. He thought, if he backed up and stomped on the gas, he could get enough momentum to bust through and maybe knock over the barrels, or there might be enough space to get around them.

  The man knocked on the window, startling Matthew. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. Put it in reverse, make a K-turn, and get back into town." The man pulled up his shirt, revealing a handgun tucked into his waistband. "I'm not playing, boy."

  Matthew decided it would be in his best interest to go back to the parking lot and find out what Tina and the priest were planning.

  * * * * *

  The parking lot across from the Keyport Fishery was empty by the time Matthew pulled back in and parked in the same spot as before. He got out and looked around. Nothing. It was quiet. He wanted to call out to Tina but decided against it because… well, because he was scared. The man at the blockade had freaked him out, and he kept looking over his shoulder and expecting him to come walking up any second. Matthew decided to search quietly for Tina. How far could the old priest walk?

  The docks were, to Matthew, the obvious place to look first. He walked along the weathered boards, past silent fishing boats, but there was no one around. The cool breeze, off the bay, made him shiver.

  "Hello?" he finally called out, afraid someone or something would answer him back. Something splashed in the water just beyond the closest fishing boat. It was dark and he wouldn't have been surprised if a thick fog rolled off the water and shadowy figures with glowing red eyes came at him.

  "Calm down," he murmured, scaring himself. This wasn't a stupid horror movie. He didn't have to be freaked out, because bad stuff like that only happened in the movies. And in bad horror books. Not the ones Matthew wrote.

  He pulled out his cell phone and laughed when he saw he had five bars. In every movie he saw, the phone was dead or he couldn't get a strong enough signal. He called Tina and was relieved when he heard the first ring.

  There was another three rings before her voicemail clicked on. "Tina? Where are you? Call me back."

  Another splash in the water, this one closer and louder, startled Matthew. He began walking away, crossing the tight street and getting as far from the water as he could.

  Matthew looked back and nearly wet himself. Something was pulling itself from the water and climbing onto the docks.

  * * * * *

  "This was my church and my home for many years, until the town was overrun by this nightmare," Father Rocco said. He leaned heavily against the charred gate surrounding his former haven. "I kept my mouth shut when they came and threatened me. I thought God would take care of them. I was arrogant and did not see He was trying to tell me to do something with His power. I hid behind my shrinking congregation and my own beliefs. I should have acted years ago."

  "You had no idea," Tina said after a moment. She was shaking.

  "Oh, but I did." Father Rocco stabbed the air with a bent finger. "I knew all along. I saw what had happened in New England all th
ose years ago, and I did nothing to stop it in my own backyard. I knew the bloodline and the way it spreads. Have you seen the children?"

  "I don't understand the question."

  "The children of these monsters are monsters. Twisted and grotesque. You're supposed to love all of God's creatures, but these… things… have nothing to do with God. The blood of unspeakable evil courses through the abominations. I should have acted many years ago, with blade and fire, and rid Keyport of the black underbelly."

  "I don't know why we're here," Tina said. "I need to get home before my dad freaks out. He already dislikes Matthew. I can't imagine what he's going to say when he finds out I got out of his car and left him." Tina wiped a tear from her cheek. "I need to find Matthew and he needs to take me home."

  "You can't leave," Father Rocco said. When Tina shrunk back like she was slapped, he tried to smile. "I'm not threatening you, child. I'm just being realistic. I don't think they're going to let anyone leave town tonight. Or any night."

  "What can we do?"

  Father Rocco pointed at the ruins of the church. “Somewhere inside is the tool we need to battle them. But I can't retrieve it."

  "You keep talking so cryptically," Tina said.

  Father Rocco laughed. "I'm sorry, child. I'm not trying to frighten you but I'm trying to stress the importance of every action. God has shown me the way to battle the Esoteric Order of Dagon in Keyport, and I can only do it with you." He looked at the blackened brick and wood. "If I enter the former church, which has now been taken over by something sinister, I fear I won't make it out alive. There is something lurking inside and it knows me. It doesn't know you, but I know you for what you are."

  "What am I?"

  "The child who's been sent tonight to turn the tide and keep Cthulhu asleep."

  * * * * *

  Four of the hellhounds were on the top landing of the ancient house when Harrison came inside, and they growled low at him but didn't attack. He hated them in the home but could nothing about it. Just like the rest of his life.

  He dropped onto the dusty couch and put his feet up on the coffee table. He would fall asleep here another night and wake, sweating, from a dozen nightmares, each one more grotesque. Harrison had no intention of going up the steps to a bedroom and walking past the creepy framed picture on the wall. The priest had somehow fallen into it, and Harrison didn't know how and didn’t want to know. He made sure he didn't look at the horror painted on the canvas.

  As if in answer, there was a thud in the corner bedroom upstairs. Harrison was almost positive it was the thing that might be his grandfather… but he wasn't going to find out. Things were happening at such a frenzied pace and he had no control over anything. For the second time, his wife was being rowed out to the end of the bay to be sacrificed to Old Ones. Harrison didn't know what had gone wrong the first time and didn't care. The woman who appeared in the dark pit under the house wasn't his wife anymore. She was a shell of her former self, broken and lifeless, despite her breathing and muttering.

  When the locals had come to his door tonight, Harrison had simply stepped aside and let them go into the basement. The priest and the biker, both unconscious, had been carried away. Harrison was sure they were both fish food now. His wife was put back into a rowboat as the men chanted and did weird things around her body. It was all confusing to Harrison and he did nothing about it. What could he do?

  Nothing.

  He tried to get comfortable on the couch, closing his eyes. He could hear the damn dogs above with their sharpened nails clicking on the wooden floorboards in the hall. They hadn't tried to bite him but they were making it known where he could and couldn't go in the house. It was quite unnerving. Harrison just wanted to sleep tonight and wake with the sun shining. It was always better in the morning. The nights were getting too long and too scary.

  In the morning, it was like the night before had never happened, thoughts fuzzy around the edges. He knew it was happening but it was easier to waste the day on the porch in the sun and nap on and off, since sleep at night was so fleeting. The nightmares kept him from getting a good night's sleep, and the damn dogs, scratching around in the house and growling, unnerved him. Harrison was waiting for the time he woke from a dream with one of the hellhounds feasting on his fingers or something far worse.

  Nichole was out on the bay and probably already being sacrificed or whatever they were planning for her. Harrison was amazed when she first came back, even as wasted as she was, but he couldn't help her. They were always watching him, and when he was even remotely nice to Nichole, the dogs would growl and someone from Keyport would knock on his door within the hour, smiling and talking pleasantries, and, all the while, make veiled threats to keep her safe but keep her in the pit.

  Harrison was worried about the biker and the priest returning, too. He thought they both needed to be either killed or left in the hole, as shitty as that sounded. Even though he'd started out helping everyone, in the end his fear had forced him to turn on them. He became their keeper. And the enemy.

  The priest wasn't so bad, because he was frail and had big ideas but no muscle behind them. Harrison was troubled by Bones, who was a pretty big guy and could do some damage. Harrison was in fear of his life. By yet someone else. This was all getting to be too much for him.

  He went into the kitchen and decided he'd either look for alcohol and get drunk or find a weapon and end his life. It was that simple. He really didn't feel too emotional either way, because he was numb to it all now. A sharp knife would do the trick and get him out of this mess. Maybe the combination of alcohol and a steak knife would really be the answer.

  "You suck," Harrison murmured as he entered the kitchen. One of the hellhounds was standing at attention between the pantry and the silverware drawer, and it began growling as soon as Harrison entered. "I got it. I guess I'll go lie down and get back to some nightmares."

  * * * * *

  "In here," he heard the little voice, and Matthew followed without thinking, slipping in the side door of the building. The strange wet noises following him from the dock were disconcerting.

  He was plunged into darkness and nearly screamed when he felt something touch his hand. He was told to be quiet by the voice again. He felt a tug and was led through the dark, the wooden floorboards squeaking underneath him. He could feel the walls to either side of him, shoulders brushing against the wood.

  A door was opened in front of him but he still couldn't see. Matthew tried to turn around in the pitch black and run the way he'd come because he was terrified, but as he spun he couldn't get his bearings on where he was and which way he was facing.

  He felt his hand being tugged, more insistent this time, in the direction he was facing. As he stumbled along, he could feel drops of water hitting him on the head and face, which was unnerving. Matthew didn't know how long or how far he'd walked in the darkness when he saw a thin beam of light underneath what must be a doorway ahead, sloping down.

  The door was opened a crack and a young face peered out, lamplight behind him or her. It was hard to tell in the flickering light, but Matthew now knew his guide was a small girl of perhaps six or seven, frail with long frizzy blonde hair, covering her face and running halfway down her back. She was dressed in a nightgown, dirty and gray.

  "Come in but hurry. They're right behind you," the one in the doorway said.

  Matthew started to turn and look back but his hand was tugged.

  "Hurry, before it's too late. They are searching for you."

  Matthew complied and entered the small room and took it all in as the door behind him was shut and three deadbolts pushed into place. He was in an ancient storeroom, with crates and sacks piled in all four corners. There was another door on the other side of the room.

  Six small children were sitting on sacks or standing far away from the lamp set upon a beat up wooden table. They were all dressed in dirty clothing or sleepwear, and were all… off.

  "What is wrong with you?" Ma
tthew asked the one still holding his hand. In the light, he could see she was deformed: the left side of her face looked melted, the skin of her cheek stretched and hanging three inches down to her shoulder. On closer inspection, the skin itself was tinged a sickly yellow-green and he could see small scales jutting from her face.

  The little girl smiled with perfectly white teeth. "Nothing wrong with me. You look kinda funny, though."

  Matthew took a good look at all the children and the room and was horrified by the strange birth defects in each child. Two of the boys only had one eye, the other side of their face swollen, green-tinged and like clay. Scales between fingers and toes were predominant, and underneath at least one child's clothes were large humps or fins. Matthew couldn't be sure in this light and didn’t want to see more than he had to. He wanted to wretch.

  The smell of the room suddenly overwhelmed him. It reminded him of dead fish, very subtle but definitely there. An underlying rot he felt clawing into his nostrils. He moved to the far door, which he reached in two quick steps. It was also bolted from this side.

  "What are you doing? Where are you going? Stay with us for awhile," one of the little girls said, her giant fishy eyes pleading with him. "You can't go that way. It leads to the bay, and Father is out there tonight and awake. He'll find you."

  Matthew unlocked the bolts and opened the door, staring into the darkness on the other side. He could hear dripping water and the smell of the ocean was strong. He had to be under the streets of Keyport or maybe under the docks, and he knew the water of the bay was right in front of him in the dark. "Is this a dead end?" he asked.

  "You could say that," one of the boys said as he struck Matthew in the back of his leg with a small sack, stunning him and dropping Matthew to one knee. "You're going to stay here with us until you're called. We need you alive, but not conscious. Do you understand me?"

  All the children crowded around Matthew, moving in with rusty blades, rope and sacks as weapons. He was pitched forward onto his stomach and his arms and legs were pinned to the dirt floor.