Laura threw some wood and paper on the coals of her small fire, and soon the flames leapt high. The night was cold, and the fire would be dead by the time she woke. She should have closed the door to keep the coons, cats, and dogs out. With the fire warming the concrete floor, she threw an old rug over herself and curled into a ball. She hoped she wouldn’t dream.
She woke with a start to see a man squatting before her fire. Before she was fully awake, she had rolled into a defensive crouch, spear in hand, ready to kill. He just raised his hands, showing her that he had no weapons.
“I just want a can of your food, some time by your fire, and a little talking.”
“I got the clap and AIDS.” Her voice was gravelly and rough. She hadn’t spoken to anyone for more than a month. “Do me, and your cock’ll rot.”
His eyes were sad.
“I don’t want that.”
She’d heard that before. Looking him up and down, he didn’t look like the men from the Dominion. She noted a big knife in a belt sheath, and the way he kept his hands away from it. An unkempt mane of white hair cascaded down his shoulders. A long-healed scar ran across his temple, just below the hair line. His skin was dark and weather-beaten, a flowing white beard covered much of his face. The long leather coat was only just more travel-stained than he. A heavy carry-bag was slung across one shoulder.
“What’s your name?”
The rumbling undertones in his voice reminded her of her father, kind and strong. But that was no reason to trust him. She adjusted her grip on her spear.
“What kind of food do you want?”
“A can of whatever you’re willing to spare.” He was still on his haunches, warming his hands over her little fire.
“We’ll see. What did you want to talk about?”
“Can I at least know your name? Mine is Travis Dornier, and I’ve come a long way to see you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I want to know your name, so I can be sure you’re the right person.”
She eyed him warily.
“Sheila.”
“That’s not it and you know it.”
“Mary.”
“I’m not going away until I learn your name. It’s important.”
He didn’t seem like a sorcerer. They had people to do things for them. They didn’t go wandering around alone. She might not understand magic, she’d never heard that anyone needed your name to cast a spell on you.
That wasn’t enough reason to trust him, though. They were playing this stupid game about her name, and she could feel him trying to make her like him. She looked him over again. He was lean, probably stronger than her, but she could outrun him no problem. She didn’t want to talk with him, but the need for company welled up in her.
“Laura,” she conceded.
“I wondered if it was.”
He reached for his bag, and her spear was at the alert again. With one hand, he made a placating gesture.
“I’m not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you.”
He took a blue box from his bag. It was glossy and shiny, with a picture of a girl. Laura held her breath. She was beautiful, the way only people from Before could be. She had long yellow hair and fine, pale skin that hadn’t seen a lot of sun. And yet, there was something sad and perhaps lonely about her. Inside the box were the mirrored disks that told stories of the Before time.
“What’s this?”
“Laura, I’ve waited more than ten years, and come more than three thousand miles to meet you. I’m so relieved to finally be in your presence.”
“Me? You’ve come to see me?” She tightened her grip on her spear. “What’s this about?”
“Do you see the girl on this box? She was the chosen one who would stand against the Masters – ”
“Liar. No one knew about the Masters in the Before Time.”
He looked down at the fire before he spoke again.
“Some of us did. Some even tried to warn everyone before the Corpse City rose, and the world went mad and the dead were piled as high as buildings.”
Laura shuddered. Though years gone, she remembered the nauseous, omnipresent stench of the corpse-piles, some half the size of city blocks. For a moment, there was no sound but the low dirge of the wind.
“Maybe if we’d tried harder . . .” He didn’t finish the thought. “We failed. And a lot of people died. But now I have found you, the new chosen one. And you can put this right.”
There was a lump in the pit of her stomach.
“Me?”
“You, Laura. If you cannot drive the Masters back under the ocean, no one can.”
“What can I do? I’m just me.”
“You are more than you know, Laura. The girl on the box, her name was Laura, too. If I could, I would tell you all the stories on these disks. Stories of her bravery, how she did not give up when everyone around her had.”
Laura vaguely remembered the big windows that told the stories on the disks. She hadn’t thought about them for a long time. She glanced at the broad, dark window in the apartment, but it was just so much junk, like most Before stuff.
“And you are like her, Laura. You are chosen, the one that can, that will, defeat the Masters, drive them back to where they came from, and make the world like it was.”
Laura’s goals were simple: find untainted food, locate shelter, stay away from the Dominion of Manhattan. Now, there was an unfamiliar feeling inside her, almost a hunger of the soul. She pondered her two-fingered right hand, maimed long ago when some dogs had chased her down. She had other scars, too. A large pucker where a cat had torn a chunk out of her shoulder, three thick lines across her breast where a dog had scratched her. She had a short line across her belly, and two on her left forearm from men with knives.
“It won’t be as it was, not for a long time. But if you listen to me, and do as I say, you can kill the Masters, kill them all. And then, peace.”
“The Dominion’s tower for women?”
“No more tower.”
“The Lord of Manhattan?”
“Destroyed utterly.”
“Impossible. The Masters are as big as buildings. What can I possibly do against them?”
“Do you know any magic, Laura?” He said it slow and long. She shook her head, resisting his enticing tone.
“Magic is only for the Masters and the people they favor.”
“There is more than that. I have a spell that I want to teach you.”
The thought thrilled through her. To have that power, to be a sorcerer, like the Lord of Manhattan.
The noises he made were an unintelligible jumble of mixed sounds.
“Repeat it.”
She did her best.
“No. Say it again.”
She did.
“No. Do it again.”
“How will I know?”
“You will know. Say the words again.”
She did.
“Did I get it right?”
His sour look did not indicate success. He repeated the words, and then she did. She tried to hear the difference between what they were saying, but she ended up randomly emphasizing this word or that. And then, after ten minutes, a hot spark flew from her mouth, and she tasted tin. Her hands flew to her mouth. Her teeth were hot, her breath scorching. And she saw the triumph in his eyes.
“Now, say the words again.”
She did, and got it wrong.
“Again.”
The taste of tin returned. Her mouth dried out with the heat of it.
“Once more.”
She got it right instantly. Her tongue felt like it had been left in the sun for days.
“You must say it to yourself every morning, and every night before you go to sleep.”
“Will it kill the Masters if I say it to them?”
“It’s not that kind of spell. But if enough people say it, chanting it at the same time, it will kill all the Masters.”
An awe mixed with fear welled up in her.
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“How many?”
“It has to be at the right time, said by thousands of people. As many as you can teach. And when the time is right, we will destroy them all.” A fire lit in his eyes as he said it.
“How long will I have?” She was disappointed that she wouldn’t be able to simply point her finger and destroy the Masters or their servants. In the wake of the ruined fantasy, hope remained.
“Laura, tell nobody that you are the chosen one. If the Masters or their slaves catch wind of it, they will stop at nothing to kill you. For your own safety, say nothing to anyone.”
“I won’t.”
His hand shot out, and he grasped her with painful strength.
“You must promise me. Promise you won’t tell anyone.” She tried to yank her hand away, but his grip was hard, and his fingers sank into her flesh.
“All right, I promise.”
He let her go.
“I didn’t want to hurt you. But you have to understand how important it is that no one else knows.”
It didn’t feel right, but he’d given her the key to the world, shown her who she truly was. He looked away from her, his mouth set in a deep frown, eyes down as if searching for something on the floor. She wanted to say something so he wouldn’t feel bad.
“When will the time be right?”
“Not for a while.”
“But you’ll tell me.”
He shook his head.
“I won’t be here.” She felt a stab of fear. “I have a lot of research and preparation to do.”
“You’ll be staying at least a little while?” She felt lost. How would she know what to do as the chosen one if he didn’t guide her? A part of her wondered how she’d come to need him so much. She regarded him again. Only her small fire held back the darkness. He looked strange and sinister with flickering shadows thrown against his face.
“I cannot. I have spent years finding you, Laura, perhaps too many. If it isn’t too late, I can proceed with the next stage of my plan.”
“But what do I do?” She sounded desperate in her own ears.
“Teach. Travel, find other people who have escaped the Masters. Teach them that peace is coming, and that if we all act together, Cthulhu and his spawn will be destroyed.”
She shuddered at the dread name.
“When?”
“If I am not with you, I will send green lights into the sky that you will not be able to miss, no matter where you are.”
“You can do that?”
For the first time, he smiled. It made his face warm, and she felt herself liking him even more.
“I can do many things. And this . . . this is important. Do me proud, Laura. Say the words every morning after you get up and every night before you sleep. Teach those who are willing. You are the chosen one. If you cannot destroy Masters, no one can.”
He reached out and she thought he was going to caress her cheek, but instead he claimed a can of food, which he stowed in his pouch. She sat, silently amazed, as he walked into the darkness. After several minutes of listening to his footsteps recede, she closed the door.
Laura’s mind whirled for the rest of the night, thinking about what Dornier had said. It kept echoing through her head; that she was the one person who could eliminate the Masters, possibly even sink the Corpse City back into the ocean.
She did not forget herself so much that she didn’t keep an ear out. She woke from sleep to hear a pack of dogs on the ground below, but they passed by without stopping.
In the Before time, dogs had been pets, and people slept safe at night. In the Before time, Mom and Dad had watched over her. Before Mom had been torn apart and eaten. Dad had lasted three more years, until an infected bite had gotten him. She remembered staring in terror at his still form, unable to believe that he would never move again. She stood vigil for two days, not eating, not drinking, waiting for him to get back up. Watching his skin sink and turn grey. She tried to keep the insects away, but there had been too many. Dogs had ended her vigil, chasing her away and reducing her father’s carrion to scraps and bone. Laura hadn’t remembered that for a long time.
So many people lost, until now she was alone. She remembered friendly people, and smiling faces. She couldn’t bring them back. The world hadn’t always been this way. Dornier had given her the means to make it better, to make it free from danger. As she thought about it, there was nothing she wouldn’t do to get that sense of safety back.
Her fire had faded to embers, and she shivered in the chill darkness. She whispered the words to herself, and felt the hot spark fly out of her. This was how she would to set things right.
At first, Laura skulked around the fringes of the Dominion of Manhattan. She didn’t even try to talk to the men. They were all crazy because their women were locked up in the tower. They feared the Lord of Manhattan more than death. Boys were interested enough to talk with her, and she could outfight or outrun them easily.
None of them remembered the time Before, but she found that if she made promises about the destruction of the Masters, they cooperated. She taught them the spell, and told them when it was for, and they promised to repeat it when they were alone. She seldom saw any of them again. She wondered how many of them would practice like she told them, before going to sleep at night and first thing on waking.
Winter was difficult, as it always was. Laura knew how not to leave tracks for a hunting party to stumble across. If someone armed with a gun found her, that would be the end, chosen one or not. She watched the night sky for any hint of green, but the remote stars were all that stood in the unending black. She wished Dornier would meet her again. She had so many questions.
When summer came, with the hot, humid weather the fish-men didn’t like, she decided to take a greater risk than just talking to boys. All the women in Manhattan were kept in an old tower made of ornate stone, about five miles from the Lord of Manhattan’s court. It was old, but solid. A fence surrounded it, and above the second floor, the windows were covered with chain-link fencing. Inside this perimeter, fish-men patrolled, rifles in their large, web-fingered hands, their unblinking eyes ever watchful.
Laura found another building like it, several abandoned blocks away, and learned how to climb the outside. At first, her efforts were clumsy and loud, dislodging fragments of stone, dropping them noisily into the street below. Every time she slipped, or raked her fingers bloody on the unforgiving walls, she reminded herself that she was the chosen one. She could do it. At night, when her fingers wouldn’t stop throbbing and her muscles ached, the knowledge gave her comfort. After some weeks, she learned to wedge herself quietly into windows, and grip the cracks between stones. She would teach the women in the tower the spell. No one would want to destroy the Masters more.
After a month, she began to climb in the dark. She learned a slow, stealthy pace that didn’t disturb the roosting pigeons until she reached up and grabbed them. She ate well. All that was left was to wait for a sweltering day followed by a hot, airless night.
The cruel Manhattan weather did not make her wait long. The Sun dragged across a sky of molten metal, and the air was heavy with the reek of asphalt. Laura spent the day in the shade, her breathing shallow, mind racing at the prospect of the hot night ahead. She was slick with perspiration, and the death of the Sun brought no relief. It was time.
She threaded her way through the piles of discarded and rusting cars, keeping eyes and ears open for fish-men. She hid behind a burned-out hulk of a car, watching the fenced perimeter that surrounded the tower. Enormous hybrids in ill-fitting clothes patrolled the inside of the fence with listless motion, rifles slung across their backs. Laura nearly gave up and sneaked off at the sight of their glassy and unblinking eyes, but she thought of Dornier, and being able to make everything right. When a patrolling sea-devil had shuffled into the omnipresent dark, she ran to the fence, vaulted up with a clatter of metal on metal, sprinted to the building and started to climb.
She was nearly at the se
cond floor before the fish-man came back to the fence, rifle at the ready. Laura froze, barely daring to breathe, and tried to press herself closer to the building’s hot stones. How good was their hearing? She was sweating freely, would they be able to smell her with their flat nostrils like cut holes in their faces? Her heart hammered, and she felt her grip slipping, and perspiration seeped into her eyes, stinging like ants. Below her, the fish-man grunted, and was joined by a second one. Their movements were sluggish in the simmering heat. Laura’s arms burned as she clung to the side of the building, still as a stone. How good was their hearing? Would they hear if she shifted her hand? They would see her if only they looked up. They were so close. She could have landed on them, but she would never be able to overpower their hideous strength.
Eventually, they moved on, croaking guttural imprecations. Laura didn’t know if sweat or tears ran down her face. Her arms were cramped from being locked in one position, but she forced them to work, feeling for grip points and toeholds, hauling herself up.
The third-floor windows were covered with chain-link fence. Laura thanked the Masters for their consideration. With very little room, she gripped the window ledge with her toes, and clung to the fence. She couldn’t reach the window, and just as she was wondering how to contact anyone inside, a gaunt face appeared in the window.
They stared at each other. Laura hadn’t expected the women in the tower to be pretty, but she hadn’t anticipated anyone this haggard. The face that looked at her was so worn that Laura couldn’t begin to guess her age. She was frail, with colorless hair surrounding her head like a gossamer halo. Tattered rags barely covered her swollen belly. Seeing Laura, she, pressing one fist to her mouth, reached out with the other. The window opened only a little, just enough for the stranger to get her hand under the sash and toward the wire fence. Her fist smothered a sob when Laura touched her stick-like fingers. At first, she didn’t know what to say, clinging to the side of the building, staring at the weary, desperate woman who clutched at her fingers.
The Dark Rites of Cthulhu Page 4
