The Lovecraft Squad

by John Llewellyn Probert

  As he was thinking this, he was eyeing the bodies on the ground far below him. He now had no doubt that they must have been subjected to the same test, and failed.

  Either that or, of course, they had been put there to discourage him.

  The thought hadn’t occurred to him before, but now he remembered that Dr. Cruttenden had said that this would be the Circle of Fraud. Maybe that meant that nothing here was as it seemed. But which was real, and which was fake?

  He reached out with his left hand and pulled himself two feet closer to the left side of the platform. The glass felt real enough, and a quick exploration with his fingers confirmed that the edge ended exactly where it appeared to. But was the drop real? Or the bodies? Or the staircase? Should he just get to his feet and step off the glass? Was that how to pass the test and escape this particular realm? Or would that just add his corpse to the ones below who, for all he knew, were the banished dead of this circle, the ones who had not been able to tell the difference between what was false and what was true and had paid the price for it?

  The wind picked up, as if to remind him that his time was running out.

  Slowly, carefully, and with all the patience he could manage under the circumstances, Chambers used his right arm to push himself farther to the left, all the while feeling for the edge of the glass. The surface was so smooth very little pressure was needed to get him to move. When he was almost at the edge, he stopped and felt the rim of the trapdoor again.

  He still wasn’t far enough over to open it.

  He was close enough to the edge that he only had to crane his neck to be able to see over. With infinite care he moved a little closer.

  A little closer still.

  A sudden gust of wind caused him to cry out as he gripped the edge of the platform, his fingers white with the exertion. He waited for it to die down and, eventually, it did.

  All part of the test.

  Those gusts of wind would probably come more frequently the longer he delayed. Something was determined for him to descend, by one means or another.

  Chambers pushed himself as close to the edge as he was able, and then felt for a means of opening the exit.

  Nothing. Not a switch, or a handle, or a button. Apart from the rim suggesting a door was there, the exit may as well have been invisible.

  Holding onto the platform edge with his left hand, he began to press the outlined square, hoping that at some point it would give, or tip, or spring open.

  Still nothing.

  Another gust of wind, harder and stronger and coming this time from the opposite direction, tore loose his grip and sent him skidding across to the other side of the platform. Scrabbling at the glass, the fingers of Chambers’s left hand dug into the groove of the trapdoor while his right hand gripped the opposite edge of the platform.

  And felt a switch.

  He doubted that last gust of wind had been intended to help him, but on the other hand it would not surprise him to learn he was being toyed with. Which led to a new question.

  If he pressed the switch would it open the door, or cause something worse to happen? Perhaps the entire platform would tilt, causing him to slide to his death. Or flip up, catapulting him into the void.

  Stop thinking like that.

  Besides, he thought, it was the only thing he had found that could open the door.

  Press the button.

  Chambers reached beneath the platform, his index finger hovering over the switch. Far below he could see the tiny bodies of those who had failed. Had the same thing happened to them? Had they found this switch and pressed it?

  This place is making you indecisive. Get on with it.

  It was true. Normally he wouldn’t be dithering like this. His life, possibly his soul, hung in the balance, but he had been in worse situations than this.

  He pushed the button.

  There was a click as the trapdoor swung downward. Chambers peered over the rim of the open doorway to see the top of the glass staircase six feet below him. Because it was almost perfectly transparent, he could see that pushing the button had caused something else to happen below him as well.

  Far beneath him, the previously prostrate bodies of the fallen were beginning to rise.

  Chambers cupped his hands around his face to cut out the glare once more. It was still difficult to see exactly what was happening way down there, but the figures were definitely moving now. Slowly, sluggishly, once they were on their feet they moved aimlessly for a short while. Then, as if they had suddenly managed to get their bearings, they all began to stagger toward the same place.

  The staircase.

  All of his horror and panic now turned to dread. That switch hadn’t been intended to give him access to freedom, it had been intended to give the dead access to him.

  He could see them clustered at the bottom of the staircase, like flies around a rotting carcass. It was difficult to tell if they were coming up, or if a similar barrier to the trapdoor existed at the bottom and was yet to be opened by his blundering.

  He was wondering what to do when another savage gust of wind caused him to lose his grip and blew him toward the opened trapdoor. His flailing fingers failed to save him and, before he knew it, he was through and on the top step of the staircase. It was farther away from the platform than he had estimated, and now, standing with his arms raised, he knew there was no way he was going to be able to get back up there.

  Which only left him one option.

  Of course he could stay where he was, but he reasoned that the nearer he got to the ground, the less his chances would be of being killed when he finally jumped to avoid the creatures that were coming for him. He looked down, banishing his vertigo to a part of his brain where it could scream all it wanted—he couldn’t afford to let it take control of him now. The cluster of shapes seemed to have narrowed, and he knew that could only mean one thing.

  They were coming up the staircase.

  Time to get moving.

  The steps were farther from the platform, and they were also narrower. Therefore, Chambers’s first act was to sit down. He hadn’t descended steps like this since he was a child, but it would be much safer, especially if the wind picked up again.

  Which it did just then.

  He held onto the sides of the top step as the gust buffeted him, gritting his teeth and wondering what else this realm had waiting for him.

  The wind lasted longer this time, and he was sure it was more ferocious. When it finally died down, he slid himself onto the next step down, then the next, and then the next.

  So far, so good.

  He was five steps down when they turned to ice.

  At first Chambers thought it was an effect of the wind, which had become more chill with every blast. When he next lifted his left hand, however, he found the palm was stuck to the frosty surface and he had to force it. When he looked at it again, the skin was wet.

  The seat of his trousers was wet through too.

  He slid down two more steps, and looked back to see that the step he had been on had almost melted to nothing. A dripping hole in its center gaped into nothingness.

  Someone’s very keen for me to keep moving.

  The figures below him were closer now. Chambers wondered how they were coping with the ice and wind before realizing there were probably no such problems down there. In fact, every attempt was probably being made to speed up their ascent.

  Are you sure this isn’t the Circle of Paranoia?

  He still couldn’t be sure what was fake and what was real. Perhaps the steps melting was a sign that they didn’t really exist. For a moment he was tempted to launch himself into space, but somehow he knew that was the kind of action that would keep him here forever.

  There was nothing to do but to keep on going down.

  The faster Chambers moved, the faster the steps dissolved behind him. Soon he had no option but to get to his feet and start running. Even then he could feel the water forming beneath his feet. The figures we
re much closer now, and he could begin to make out details. Each one looked the same—dressed in rags and limping. But the most shocking and obvious thing about them was their blackened appearance, as if they had just emerged from a coal mine or stoking a ship’s boiler.

  Or as if they had been horribly burned.

  As he got closer, Chambers could see the discoloration of their skin was not because of fire, but because of age. The creatures making their way up the steps were immeasurably old, and their skin had mummified to the point of becoming charcoal.

  He was twenty feet from the ground when he decided to jump.

  The creatures were much closer, of course, which was the reason he felt it was time to take his chances. It was impossible to make out how soft the ground was, but he figured breaking every bone in his body would be preferable to the bony embrace of the things that were coming for him.

  That were now ten steps away from him.

  He took a deep breath. Behind him, the last of the ice steps melted and crumpled in on itself. It wouldn’t be long before the step he was on would go the same way.

  Time to fly.

  Chambers was well aware of documented examples of people suddenly finding themselves able to do the impossible. Feats of strength, or courage, of which they would never have thought themselves capable. Leaping a wall to escape danger, running faster than they ever had done to save someone from an oncoming car, withstanding pain that would usually render them helpless.

  He also knew that there are the times when minds and bodies fail, when it is suddenly impossible to do what has to be done. When one freezes in panic, unable to do anything but look on helplessly when the few seconds of opportunity available should be snatched and acted upon.

  Chambers couldn’t move.

  The cursed souls of the Circle of Fraud were almost upon him and he needed to jump, but he couldn’t. His legs refused to do what his brain was telling them. He could feel the step he was on melting beneath his feet, and still his limbs refused to move.

  The creatures were five steps away.

  Jump.

  Four steps away.

  For God’s sake what’s wrong with you?

  Three steps.

  Jump!

  Two steps.

  Now!

  One.

  Chambers closed his eyes and waited for his flesh to be eaten, his soul to be drained from his body, his eyes plucked from his skull to be used as playthings.

  Instead, he felt a gentle hand shaking his left shoulder. He opened his eyes to see a familiar face.

  “Karen?” He could scarcely believe the eyes that by now ought to have been torn from his head by the creatures that had been approaching him. Creatures that he could no longer see.

  He was no longer sitting on a melting staircase either. Instead he was in a cave, sitting on a hard-packed earthen floor. He couldn’t make out the source of the orange glow that lit the place. But that didn’t matter. The creatures were gone, the steps were gone, the dizzy height was gone. It was possible that this was the ground that he had been so afraid of hitting with force but, even if it was, that didn’t matter now. He went with his instincts and gave Karen the biggest hug he could.

  “Am I dreaming?”

  “No.” The voice came from behind the woman crouching before him, and it was instantly recognizable. “Unless, of course, you’d like to consider everything we have experienced so far as a dream.”

  Chambers gave Karen a relieved smile and then looked over her shoulder at Dr. Cruttenden. “Was I dreaming before, then?”

  “No, you were being tested, just as Karen and I have been tested.”

  “You have?” He looked at Karen, who shook her head in a way that told him she didn’t want him to ask.

  “We are in the Circle of Fraud,” the lecturer continued. “I presume you were encouraged to do something that would endanger your life? Something reckless that, if the circumstances were real, would have led to your death?”

  Chambers nodded.

  “Well done for resisting. I don’t know what it was you had to do, and to be honest I don’t want to. Just know that if you had failed, we wouldn’t be here talking to you now.”

  Chambers looked around him. “Where exactly is here?”

  “We’re hoping it’s the way out,” Karen said as she got to her feet and extended Chambers a helping hand.

  He dusted himself down and gave her a curious look.

  “Is something the matter?”

  No, he thought, not exactly. He looked her up and down. “The words.” He was still trying to work out what exactly he was thinking of. “You got them right.”

  Karen looked bewildered. “I don’t remember saying any words. Should I?”

  Yes, he thought, and there was something else I wanted to ask, but he couldn’t quite recall what it was.

  “Memories of the circle before this one.” Dr. Cruttenden still seemed to have all the answers. “And best not thought about. I’d suggest you forget all about it and concentrate on going forward. We only have one more circle to go, and the exit is that way.”

  She was pointing into the darkness of a narrow passageway ahead.

  “What happens then?” Karen asked.

  It was obvious from Dr. Cruttenden’s face that she didn’t know.

  “Perhaps that’s when we get a reprieve and are sent back to All Hallows,” said Chambers. “I never thought I’d say it, but I’m starting to miss the place.”

  “Even with the things we left behind there?”

  Karen had a point.

  “Somehow they don’t seem quite as scary after everything we’ve faced here,” he replied.

  “We haven’t faced everything yet,” said Dr. Cruttenden. “I very much suspect the worst is yet to come.”

  She began to lead the way, as Karen called after her. “What is the Ninth Circle again?”

  Dr. Cruttenden’s answer echoed around the chamber as they made their way toward the glowing portal that had appeared.

  “Treachery.”

  THIRTY-TWO

  AFTER EVERYTHING HE HAD already been through, Chambers dreaded to imagine what the Circle of Treachery might look like. Perhaps a room filled with people talking behind each others’ backs, he thought, or (God forbid!) another torture chamber, one where you had to deceive your way out of being a victim only to end up as one of the torturers.

  What he wasn’t expecting was a narrow corridor.

  The floor was tiled with linoleum that was scratched and gray, and the walls paneled in a dusty, scabrous oak that reached as high as Chambers could see. Ahead of him, the corridor seemed to end abruptly.

  “Where are we supposed to go after that, I wonder?”

  “I very much suspect all will be made clear,” said Dr. Cruttenden from behind both him and Karen.

  She was right. Instead of ending, the corridor took an abrupt right-hand turn, ending in a heavy oak door. It was reinforced with rusting iron rails, and the wood itself bore the weary traumas of what looked like kicks and scratches to its stoical frame.

  “Seems as if people were eager to get through this.” Karen was looking over Chambers’s shoulder.

  His face was grim. “Perhaps they were being chased by something that hasn’t caught up with us, yet.” He gave the door an experimental push. It refused to yield. “There’s no handle,” he noted. “Do you think we have to say the password?”

  “Well, if we do, you’d better hurry up and work out what it is.” Karen was looking behind her.

  “Why?” Chambers was banging on the door now, despite the evidence that this was unlikely to prove successful.

  “Because the corridor walls are closing together.” Dr. Cruttenden pushed her way to the front. “If there’s a password it’s probably here somewhere, just not in plain sight.”

  While she searched, Chambers looked behind him. The paneled walls had taken on an elastic, almost fluid consistency, and were now coming together toward them. It would only be a matter of
minutes before they were crushed.

  “You’d better hurry, doctor.”

  “I am aware of that.” Dr. Cruttenden was crouched down low, passing her fingers over something carved into the wood. “No, that’s not it,” she mumbled to herself. Then, to the others, “I think I’m going to need some help here.”

  “What kind of help?” The corridor was barely four feet long now, and both Karen and Chambers were in danger of crushing Dr. Cruttenden before the walls did.

  “If you could both place your palms flat on the door as I’m doing. It may be that one is only admitted if one is worthy.”

  Worthy of treachery? It didn’t make any sense to Chambers, but at this point he wasn’t going to argue. He reached over Dr. Cruttenden’s head and put both hands flat on the damp-feeling wood. To his right, Karen did the same.

  Nothing.

  “It’s not working.” Karen pressed harder, as if that would help.

  “We have to give it time.”

  “That’s the one thing we don’t have,” said Chambers as, with a creak, he felt the wall on the left begin to crush his shoulder. Although the wood had become elastic, the pressure it was exerting was enormous, and it was all he could do to keep his hands firmly on the door. As the walls came together and they began to struggle for breath, the door also began to take on the same elastic qualities.

  “That’s it.” Dr. Cruttenden’s voice was more of a strangled croak. “Push now! As hard as you can!”

  It was nearly impossible in such a confined space, but they did their best. Chambers could feel the now-spongy consistency of the door giving way beneath his fingers at the same time as he was being squeezed by the vast, heaving bulk of the corridor either side of him. He took a deep breath, knowing that it would probably be his last, and thrust himself forward.

  For a split second, he felt crushing, stifling agony. Then there was the sudden blessed feeling of release as he fell forward onto a rough wooden floor, palms stinging as they came down hard on the unyielding surface. Once he had regained his breath, he was somehow unsurprised to discover, when he pushed himself away, that the part of the floor on which he and his companions were now lying was the door they had been pushing against.