by Alan K Baker
The Dero looked at him, its maw hanging open in stupefaction. ‘True, this?’
‘True,’ said Crystalman.
The Dero uttered a gurgling cackle. ‘Then we kill! We kill and eat and play and–’
Yes yes yes, and so on and so forth! Crystalman thought as he broke the connection with the deeper caverns.
His promise would, he was sure, spur the Dero to even greater efforts to capture Fort and the others when they entered the caverns. The promise, of course, was quite genuine. When all this was over, when the rock book had been secured and the spirit of Haq ul’Suun released from the Martian Falcon, Crystalman would have no further need for these caverns.
The Dero could have them.
He hoped that they would enjoy them in the brief span of existence remaining to them.
CHAPTER 32
The Dero Cavern
They headed out to Long Island in O’Malley’s car, all the while keeping watchful eyes on the other traffic, on constant lookout for a cop car slowing or changing direction suddenly. They saw several squad cars during the journey, but none of the cops recognised them, and they passed without incident.
Manorville was a small, unprepossessing town on the eastern edge of the Pine Barrens Preserve, a 100,000-acre swathe of pine forest on the eastern side of Long Island. They had no trouble finding the exploratory shaft that had been sunk there in 1895: it was about a mile outside of town and was enclosed within a circular chain link fence topped with barbed wire and sporting a sign every hundred feet or so that said:
DANGER!
DO NOT ENTER
PENALTY FOR UNAUTHORIZED ENTRY:
$10,000 FINE AND FIVE YEARS IMPRISONMENT
As O’Malley brought the car to a halt and switched off the engine, Fort took the case from between his feet, opened it and took out the Teleforce Projector and the Anomalous Oscillation Detector. He put the AOD in his jacket pocket.
The headlamp beams of another car cut through the darkness. The gigantic limousine pulled up alongside them and Capone got out, followed by his zombies.
‘Right on time,’ said Fort. He turned to look at the others. ‘Ready?’
‘We’re ready, Charles,’ said Lovecraft.
‘Then let’s go.’
They got out of the car and approached Capone.
‘How’d you get your car back?’ asked Fort. ‘You left it on the Expressway… totalled, as I recall.’
‘Think I only got one limo?’ said Capone. ‘What kinda deadbeat you think I am?’
‘He probably got it from his hideout, Charles,’ said Lovecraft quietly.
‘Gee, thanks for putting me straight, Howard,’ said Fort.
Capone gestured to one of his zombies, who took three Tommy guns from the limousine and handed them to Lovecraft, O’Malley and Rusty. ‘I take it you won’t be needing one,’ said Capone to Fort, with a nod at the Projector.
‘Not likely,’ Fort replied.
The zombie reached into the limousine again and withdrew a large knapsack, which he slung over his shoulder.
‘What’s in the bag?’ asked Rusty as she checked her Tommy gun.
‘Hand grenades,’ said Capone. ‘Thought they might come in useful.’
Fort nodded his approval and glanced at Lovecraft, who was examining his gun in the same way an archaeologist might examine a strange artefact. ‘You okay there, Howard?’
‘I… well, I must confess that I’ve never used a firearm before.’
Capone laughed. ‘Nothin’ to it, librarian; just point and fire, but watch out for the recoil. It’ll jump around like a rat in a sack. And speakin’ of rats, where’s Sanguine?’
‘Nice to see you, too, Al,’ said a voice from the darkness. Sanguine sauntered into the island of light from the cars’ headlamps.
‘And your men?’ said Capone.
‘Oh, they’re around.’
‘What do you mean “around”?’ asked O’Malley.
‘Never mind. They’re here – that’s all you need to know. Now, let’s get on with this.’
There was a gate in the chain link fence, which was secured with a stout padlock. Capone reached for it, but Fort stopped him. Brandishing the Projector, he said: ‘I want to try this out.’
As Capone stepped aside, Fort switched on the Projector. Remembering what Tesla had shown him, he adjusted the beam to its narrowest setting, took aim at the padlock and pressed the trigger.
A glowing blue wire of energy leaped from the muzzle and struck the lock, which fizzed and crackled, and then popped like a kernel of corn in a skillet. It dropped to the ground in incandescent orange pieces.
‘Not bad,’ said Capone. ‘Hey, Charlie, if we get outta this, I wanna buy that gizmo off of you, okay?’
Fort grinned at Capone. Yeah, and my uncle’s the King of England, you crazy metal bastard, he thought. He pushed open the gate and walked towards the bunker-like concrete structure that stood at the centre of the enclosure. The structure was a squat cylinder about twenty feet in diameter and ten high, and was featureless save for a single steel door. Fort made short work of the lock and pushed open the door, which gave with the loud screech of long-disused hinges. From the nearby tree line, the pinnacles of the pines exploded with the dark shapes of startled birds.
O’Malley had pilfered a couple of flashlights from the maintenance room of the Visitation Rectory. He took them out and handed one to Lovecraft, who took it and glanced uncertainly at it and his awkwardly-held Tommy gun. Rusty sighed and took the flashlight from him. Capone had his own light, bolted to his left shoulder.
They played the beams around the room, which contained nothing but a ten-foot-wide circular hole in the centre of the floor.
‘Looks inviting, don’t it?’ said Capone as he leaned over the edge of the concrete maw and looked down, his shoulder-mounted flashlight moving back and forth. ‘Can’t see the bottom.’
‘It goes down about three hundred feet,’ said Fort, walking around the edge until he reached a line of steel rungs set into the concrete. ‘Inspection ladder. Come on.’ Shouldering the Teleforce Projector, he sat and swung his legs over the edge, then began to descend.
Capone moved forward, but Rusty jumped in front of him. ‘You last,’ she said. ‘You must weigh half a ton. I don’t want you ripping the ladder out before the rest of us get down there.’
Capone grunted and moved aside.
One by one, they followed Fort into the depths, their flashlight beams playing across the curved wall of the shaft and picking out discoloured vertical streaks of water-stained concrete and patches of dark green lichen that glinted wetly. The only sounds were those of their breathing and the echoing clicks of their shoes on the steel rungs.
Ten minutes later, they all reached the bottom of the shaft, including Capone, who was holding several of the inspection ladder’s rungs in his massive metal hands. ‘They came loose,’ he said. ‘Might have a job getting out this way. Didn’t let them drop. Didn’t want to make a noise.’
‘Good thinking,’ said Fort. ‘And don’t worry about getting out. If all goes to plan and we manage to survive the night, we’ll get out through Crystalman’s house.’
They looked around at the cavern into which the exploratory shaft had penetrated twenty years previously. It was large – about as big as a good-sized cathedral. In fact, it reminded Fort of a cathedral, with its high, fluted walls which met in a series of misshapen arches about a hundred feet above their heads. The similarity was further strengthened by the gigantic statues which stood against the walls, some upright, some partially toppled on the uneven ground – although any resemblance to human art was fleeting at best.
The statues were grotesque representations of strange beings, perhaps gods, or perhaps the inhabitants of distant and unknown worlds. They were the nameless denizens of the night of prehistory; of th
e time of the Atlans, when the Australopithecine ancestors of humanity barked and jabbered and looked uncomprehendingly at the godlike beings who had made the world their home.
‘Highly stylised,’ whispered Lovecraft, as he regarded the statues with their etiolated forms, their bulbous eyes and strangely-shaped heads. ‘At least, one would hope that they’re stylised.’
Fort took a small compass from his pocket and consulted it. ‘We need to head east,’ he said. ‘Come on. This way.’ He moved off across the boulder-strewn floor of the cavern, slowly sweeping the darkness ahead with the barrel of the Teleforce Projector. ‘Light!’ he whispered harshly. ‘I need more light! Cormack! Miss Links!’
Rusty and O’Malley fell in beside him. He glanced at Rusty. ‘Can you shift yet?’
She hesitated and then shook her head. ‘Still nothing. Damn that Carter and his stupid little gun!’
‘Odds are it’s not his. He must have got it from Crystalman. God knows how many other people he’s got up his sleeve.’
Rusty glanced around, her eyes darting fearfully at the walls and ceiling of the cavern.
‘That’s right,’ said Fort. ‘Keep a lookout for the Dero. That goes for the rest of you,’ he added over his shoulder.
‘Yeah,’ Rusty replied. ‘I’m watching for them… but I’m also watching for the air elementals…’
‘I don’t think you need to worry too much about them,’ said Fort.
She glanced at him. ‘Why not? They’ve been hounding me up the entire eastern seaboard.’
‘But they left you alone once you got to New York, didn’t they? Once you came to me. Crystalman called them off. He knows we’re coming, and he’s got us exactly where he wants us.’
‘What? When were you planning on telling the rest of us?’
‘I’ve only just figured it out, dummy that I am!’ Fort replied disgustedly.
‘Figured what out, Charles?’ asked Lovecraft, who had fallen in behind them.
‘I’m afraid there’ll be no element of surprise, Howard. Crystalman’s onto us. He knows what we’re planning. He’s known all along that I was involved with the Falcon case; he got that from Carter, of course. Once he knew that Rusty here was coming to see me, he called off the air elementals and let her do just that. Maybe that was a change of plan on his part, but it suited his purposes. Apart from Carter, we’re the only people who know about his plan, the only people who have the slightest chance of stopping him. And now…’
‘Now we’re heading directly for him. And he’s prepared,’ said Lovecraft. ‘That is rather… vexing.’
Fort came to a halt. ‘I’ve made a mistake – a bad one. We shouldn’t have come here. We should have gone after the rock book. Shit! We should have gone after the rock book!’
‘And tried to raid a stationhouse full of cops?’ said Rusty. ‘We wouldn’t have stood a chance.’
‘We’d have stood more of a chance than we do here.’
‘It’s all my fault,’ said Rusty miserably. ‘Somehow… somehow Crystalman’s inside my head. He knows what I’m going to do as soon as I decide to do it.’
‘Don’t be too hard on yourself, Miss Links,’ said Lovecraft. ‘After all, you were the one who told us Crystalman’s plan. You also provided us with the means to defeat him… if only Lieutenant Carter hadn’t arrived when he did.’
Rusty glanced back at him and smiled. ‘Thank you, Mr. Lovecraft.’
‘You’re most welcome, madam.’
Fort gave Lovecraft a sharp glance. ‘Don’t get all mushy on me, Howard. This dame’s still trouble with a capital T.’ He fell silent, thinking.
‘So why did you let me come along, if I’m so much trouble?’ said Rusty huffily.
‘You know why. You’re a shapeshifter. As a weapon, you’re at least as powerful as this Teleforce Projector…’
‘Assuming I get my ability back sometime soon.’
‘Yeah… assuming that.’
‘Hey, what’s the hold up?’ demanded Capone. ‘Keep movin’, ya buncha numbnuts!’
Fort turned to answer him, and then stopped, open-mouthed. Capone saw the expression on his face, and turned to look behind them, as did O’Malley.
The way back was blocked by at least fifty Dero, with more scuttling into the cavern from unseen recesses in the walls. Completely naked, their genitals dangling obscenely between their bowed, thickly-muscled legs, the creatures began to shamble towards them. Their filthy, distorted faces grinned, revealing blackened and broken teeth.
‘Welcome!’ they cried in their ragged, gurgling voices. ‘Welcommme!’
CHAPTER 33
Farewell, My Zombie
‘Let them have it, boys!’ shouted Capone.
His twelve undead soldiers turned as one, raised their submachine guns and fired. The cavern was instantly filled with the cacophony of exploding shells and the stench of cordite, but the noise was nothing compared to the insane, hate-filled, agonised shrieking of the Dero as the bullets tore into them, painting the dank air with thick, black blood.
More Dero appeared, hobbling over the ruptured bodies of their fallen comrades, screaming with rage, their wide, shapeless mouths dripping with greenish slobber. They fell upon one zombie and ripped him to shreds, hurling chunks of flesh at the others, who took no notice and continued to fire.
‘Grenades!’ shouted Capone. ‘Grenades, you dumb fucks!’
The zombie carrying the knapsack reached in, took a grenade, pulled the pin and lobbed it at the writhing mass of Dero. Half a dozen of them were blown to bloody fragments, but that didn’t stop them coming.
Rusty, O’Malley and Capone opened up with their own weapons – as did Lovecraft, but the recoil of his Tommy gun took him by surprise. He lost his footing on the rubble-strewn ground and fell flat on his back, his finger still squeezing the trigger. The bullets struck the ceiling, dislodging a large piece of masonry which plummeted to the ground, crushing another two dozen Dero.
‘Not bad, librarian!’ cried Capone. ‘We’ll make a wise guy of you yet!’
‘I regret to say that is not one of my ambitions, Mr. Capone,’ Lovecraft replied as he dragged himself to his feet and resumed firing.
Fort stepped forward and adjusted the Teleforce Projector to its wide-beam setting. He fired from the hip, hosing the still-advancing Dero with a glowing spray of blue death. Those it touched blew apart as if made of tissue paper, and yet others unhesitatingly advanced to take their place.
‘For the love of God!’ O’Malley cried. ‘How many of these bastards are there?’
‘More than we can handle like this!’ Fort shouted back. He glanced at the power indicator gauge on the side of the Projector. The needle was at the 75% mark. He had just used a quarter of the device’s electrical charge. ‘Shit!’ he said. ‘Tesla never told us it was this thirsty.’
The zombie with the grenades lobbed another one and took out a half dozen more Dero. Another three of his fellows had been taken down, pummelled and dismembered, the dripping fragments of their bodies thrown into the smoke-filled air like confetti.
Dozens of Dero lay in bloody lumps on the ground, and yet they still came, howling and mewling and cursing at the interlopers; shouting at the tops of their lungs all the things they were going to do to them. Lovecraft caught snippets of this and was glad he couldn’t make out the rest.
Fort glanced over his shoulder and caught sight of a small tunnel mouth in the cavern’s far wall. It was in the direction they had been headed, which was a plus. ‘Come on!’ he yelled. ‘This way!’
They all sprinted across the cavern, as yet more Dero appeared from out of side galleries to their left and right, converging on them with terrifying speed. Capone was behind the others, and several of the creatures leaped upon him, smashing his head and torso with their calloused fists. He grabbed one, threw it to the ground and stamped on its h
ead, which exploded like a ripe watermelon. He seized another and ripped it limb from limb, then used one of its legs to beat the others to death. ‘I love a good fight!’ he roared. ‘I’m a sucker for a good fight! Come on, the rest of you – whattaya waitin’ for? I’ll mash you all to a fuckin’ pulp, you maggots!’
Fort ran into the mouth of the tunnel and skidded to a halt. The tunnel contained a monorail, on top of which sat a bulbous car fashioned from a dull, pewter-hued metal. The car contained several bench seats, and the controls appeared to consist of a single lever and a number of dials. Could we be that lucky? he wondered as he reached into the car and pushed the lever.
Nothing whatsoever happened. He bent down to look under the car, and saw a mass of shredded wiring. I guess not, he thought. He peered along the tunnel, which seemed to be empty.
He heard O’Malley’s voice calling out: ‘Charlie! We’re in trouble here!’
He ran back to the mouth of the tunnel and shouted: ‘Looks clear this way!’
Capone paused in his decimation of the Dero who were unwise enough to go up against him, then turned and shouted to the zombie with the grenades: ‘Hey, Milo! Toss me the sack!’
The zombie did so and then went back to work on the Dero with his machine gun. He was the only one left, and it was only a few more moments before he, too, went down under their relentless onslaught.
‘So long, fellas,’ said Capone as he strode swiftly into the tunnel mouth. The others were already inside. ‘Run like hell,’ he said, as he took out one grenade and pulled the pin.
Fort, Lovecraft, Rusty and O’Malley ran.
Capone cast a single glance at the advancing Dero, and then looked down at the eight grenades remaining in the sack. He dropped the grenade he was holding into the sack, let it fall to the ground and flicked the pin at the Dero.
Then he, too, ran like hell.
CHAPTER 34
Out of the Frying Pan…
The explosion knocked them all off their feet, except for Capone, who planted his massive piston-driven legs wide and took the force of the blast. Almost immediately, there was a deep, powerful rumbling as the roof of the tunnel behind them collapsed, cutting off the still-advancing Dero.
