Cthulhu Armageddon

by Phipps, C. T.

  “I’m not going to use any heathen bullshit,” Jessica said, growling. “Our squad deserves better.”

  “You can opt out, Jessica,” I said. “A bit of paganism isn’t going to damn my soul any more than all the sins I’ve committed.”

  “Sin is an illusion,” Katryn said, putting away her M16 and pulling out her spear. “I am ready to deal with the Doctor.”

  “Guys,” Mercury interrupted, looking down the empty hall the same way Katryn did. “I hate to ask, but … where do you think he’s keeping the kids?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I got the rundown on what you were originally here for, remember?” Mercury said, lowering her gun and putting it to the side of her leg. “That’s why I’m here, to serve as an attendant to their needs. You said hundreds of children were kidnapped.”

  Mercury put a name to a nameless dread which had been haunting me since I’d started into this place. “Yes. Where are they?”

  “It’s a big cathedral,” Jessica said, sounding about as convinced as I was.

  “Not that big,” I said, gritting my teeth. “There’d have to be a prison, cages, or something. We’ve seen none of that here. Just mostly empty temple rooms and chambers with a few spots obviously used by the cultist for sleep or storing their wastes.”

  “He wanted to turn them into super-humans, yes?” Katryn said.

  “So he claims.”

  “Then they will be beside him.”

  I looked to the door. That was what I was afraid of. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

  I reached over to the crystal on the wall and placed my hand on it. It responded less to my touch and more to the presence of my thoughts, opening and revealing what lay beyond.

  Cthulhu’s Temple.

  Full of children’s corpses.

  No. No. No! Dammit!

  Stepping through the iris, I entered into a stadium-sized chamber which was as large as the Black Cathedral itself. There were massive rows of stone benches overlooking the central chamber, which was an acre long and dominated by a twelve-foot-tall stone relief of Cthulhu holding a spherical orb of light. The monster god looked down with four ruby-red eyes as the dragon-squid relief seemed almost human to me, staring down at us with a bemused expression. This representation of Cthulhu seemed almost saintly with a large, fat belly and its wings stretched around the globe as if enveloping it in a protective shield.

  The top of the chamber was an onion-dome-like one with a holographic display of technology not belonging to any human source. It depicted an image of the galaxy and with thought rather than images, projected the origins of Cthulhu’s people as they journeyed from their homeworld to this Earth in order to settle and construct their cities of eight-dimensional stone and thought.

  The holograms showed Cthulhu’s people doing battle with the Elder Things, warping reality with thought, before both were driven to the very edges of our watery third rock from the sun. As the Elder Things retreated to the frozen parts of the Earth and eventually the Dreamlands, so did Cthulhu’s race enter slumber deep beneath the oceans or surface. I saw, to my horror, early humans and earlier races start worshiping Cthulhu’s people and mistaking them for benevolent deities. They drew power from his sleeping form, confusing the Elder Things for deities and making an elaborate mythology as the psychics among them channeled his power to work amazing wonders.

  There were no Elder Gods who opposed the Great Old Ones, or hostile powers to them. Cthulhu and his ilk were the divinities of mankind who inspired all magic as well as most religions. It was their presence that, ironically, provided humanity their few weapons against their servitors. Ward had discovered this and learned to harness that secret.

  I didn’t want to take my eyes off the holographic display above because to do so would mean acknowledging the horrific holocaust of bodies spread across the ground. Hundreds of children dressed in white baptismal robes and surrounded in chalk outlines with beatific smiles on their face, ranging from four to fourteen, of both sexes.

  There were cups spread all around the room, the architect of their deaths no doubt, even as it was clear they’d all been given its murderous contents. The chalk outlines were surrounded with small sigils around them, invoking the names of the nonexistent Elder Gods and Cthulhu to protect them on their journey to a new homeworld in the Dreamlands.

  “Death was his salvation for them,” I muttered, staring down at them. “To send their spirits onward to a world in the Dreamlands away from us with no Great Old Ones to bother them. A place where they could live in wonder and glory forever.”

  “That sick bastard,” Jessica said, looking on the verge of tears. “He was just crazy all along.”

  “Yes,” Katryn said, looking down at the symbols on the ground. “I do not believe any of this will preserve their spirits. There is only a dream awaiting them.”

  Mercury checked the cup and sniffed it before shaking her head. “Shadowweed. It was painless at least.”

  “Small consolation to them,” Jessica muttered, looking ready to start shooting everything in sight. “Where the hell is he?”

  “He should be here,” I muttered, approaching the stone relief of Cthulhu. That was the source of the strange power I’d sensed.

  Approaching the ball of light in the Cthulhu statue’s unnaturally long webbed hands, I looked at it and saw it pulse with a strange blue-and-white aura. It was, in its own way, every bit as fascinating as the Black Cathedral had been to me when I first approached it. I could hear the music of Azathoth playing in my head as I approached it, only it was no longer the piping of violence or destruction, but a smooth, soft song of raw reaction. It was the song of creation, played by Azathoth’s inhuman pipers at the beginning of the universe.

  This universe at least.

  I realized in that moment Katryn was wrong, at least partially. Looking into the glowing orb, I saw the blue-and-white Earth which Ward had created for his stolen children. I saw the moment frozen in time of a planet full of life as well as a race of man which would never know want, death, or disease. The world’s entire history was contained in that bubble and it was possible to view it from the beginning to the end. I had never seen anything quite like it before.

  “John, what are you doing?” Katryn called over.

  “So beautiful,” I whispered, reaching out to touch the glowing orb.

  “Get away, Captain!” Jessica shouted, running over toward me.

  I backhanded her across the face, sending her spiraling backward across the floor. It was an instinctive action and one I didn’t have time to regret. That was when I saw Mercury holding her pistol in hand, aiming at my head. In that moment, I realized she was willing to kill me to prevent something horrible from happening.

  I admired her for that.

  But grabbed the glowing orb anyway.

  “No!” Katryn called out, too late.

  Mercury lowered her gun, unable to fire.

  A wave of light passed over me and consumed my world along with everything else in the room.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  As the light washed over me, everything was more vivid than in life. The sights, smells, and emotions. All of it.

  I could recall the colors of the sky on the day I was born and remember what the taste of a meal was a decade ago. These were the memories the orb stored and shared among the human ghosts who dwelled within its folds. It wasn’t limited to sharing memories either, but crafted dreams of stunning reality born from the most hidden desires of those souls it contained.

  A girl named Marissa dreamed of her dead parents, abundant crops, and marrying the boy down the road.

  A boy named Obed dreamed of becoming a great warrior, killing hundreds of opponents, then setting himself up as ruler of Kingsport.

  Marcus dreamed of the Pre-Rising world he’d heard about in stories and swung from skyscraper to skyscraper on over a city long since dead.

  The babe, Josefina, only a toddler, simply dreamed of growing up to become th
e woman she never would.

  Camille dreamed of watching her parents die over and over again in the most horrifying manner possible.

  James relived losing his virginity in a way which wasn’t the clumsy manner of two newly pubescent children fumbling with each other.

  Paradise.

  But like all heavens, it belonged only to the dead.

  I was alive.

  Wasn’t I?

  The memory I relived was one I’d almost forgotten, so drowned out in the struggles of daily life it had been. It was five years ago; I was returning home from a riot suppression at one of the collective farms which supplied New Arkham and the Remnant with its food. I’d been involved in killing a dozen farmers and the burning of their houses. The smell of charred flesh and wooden buildings stuck in my nostrils and I remember throwing up like I’d still been a cadet. I was supposed to be an elite soldier but this hadn’t been the work of a Recon and Extermination Ranger—it had been simple butchery.

  Yet, what choice did I have? There were close to five hundred thousand citizens in New Arkham alone and any interruption in the flow of grain, mushrooms, rice, or other foodstuffs would mean mass starvation. My chief loyalty had to be to the people of the Remnant. The greater good trumped everything, even if I felt sick about it.

  Right?

  Walking through the front door of my single family house, a relative luxury when most had to bunk together in barracks, I saw the lights were off and my children were in front of the static-filled television. It was well past midnight and they should both have been in bed, but:

  Fourteen-year-old Gabriel was sleeping on the carpet with his hands in his pajamas, his arms wrapped around my copy of Unspeakable Oaths with his head resting on the cover. It wasn’t the kind of reading material my wife or I encouraged him to read, but he’d been sneaking into my private book shelf since he was ten. The white-haired boy had always been a troubled child but I loved him anyway.

  Sitting on the couch was the half-awake form of my platinum-blonde-haired teenaged daughter Anita. She kept her hair cut short and was wearing a pink t-shirt with the R&E logo on the front and a pair of black bicycle shorts. Anita blinked when I opened the door and smiled at my arrival. “Hey, Da.”

  “Hiya, Scout,” I said, smirking. “What are you doing up so late?”

  “Waiting for you,” Anita said, keeping her voice low. She was fifteen now and about ready to take up a trade. Anita had made no secret of the fact she wanted to join the military and had aced every possible test for advanced long-term training.

  The possibility frightened me. I didn’t want my daughter getting herself killed in a misguided attempt to make me proud.

  “Where’s your mother?” I said, putting my finger in front of her mouth and walking over to sit down beside me on the couch.

  Anita gave me a sour look then turned away. “She’s staying at a friend’s.”

  “Ah,” I said, knowing what she meant. I didn’t blame Martha Booth for having taken up with other men. Our relationship had been forced on us by the Council, an attempt to breed psychic soldiers as if humans were just another animal to be husbanded. Neither of my children had displayed Martha’s gifts, though it was still too early to tell with Gabriel. It wasn’t like I could cast stones either. I spent time with prostitutes as well as a number of married Remnant women in similar situations. I’d thought about explaining that to Anita but, well, where the hell would I even begin?

  “Who’s been taking care of you in the meantime?” I asked.

  “Aunt Eliza,” Anita said, flipping off the television with a tape-covered remote. There was still a little light coming in through the windows from the moon outside.

  “Ah,” I said, thinking about the General’s wife. “We’re lucky to have her.”

  “Yeah,” Anita said, turning back around. “She took us shooting.”

  I blinked. “Really?”

  “Well, she took me shooting. Gabriel spent the entire time reading your creepy books.”

  I snorted. “Yeah, that sounds like him.”

  “I’m getting good,” Anita said, brightly. “I think I’ll be the best at the tryouts next month. They may put me straight on the path to becoming an R&E soldier!”

  Gabriel stirred in his sleep a bit before turning over and continuing to slumber. He was muttering in his sleep. “T’hyahaha Shub’Niggurath N’awtqnk. Ia Hastur. Uyyh’aagh.”

  I looked at Gabriel, recognizing that chant from when I summoned Nyarlathotep in the Dreamlands, but dismissing it as a trick of the dream. “Before you take those tryouts, I’d like to mention something.”

  “What?”

  I thought of a man trying to shield his wife and child while bullets flew through the air and chemical bombs were thrown. I thought of the burning houses where other soldiers from neighboring squadrons hadn’t bothered to force the inhabitants out first. That was just what I’d seen today, not even a fraction of what I’d had to do in order to protect New Arkham.

  Had to do.

  “Being a soldier isn’t the only way you can make me happy,” I said, looking at my hands. I’d cleaned off the blood but the stains were still there in my mind.

  Anita looked like I’d hit her, something I’d never do regardless of how often my father had done the same to me. “I just want to make you proud, Daddy. I want to protect people.”

  How did I explain to her that wasn’t what it was about? That there were monsters in the Wasteland but also people? That preserving order in New Arkham was as often about being the boot that kept down those who were supposed to be in your charge?

  It was too important not to tell her. “I’m just trying to prepare you, Scout. Being an R&E Ranger, being any kind of soldier really, is hard and dangerous work. I’ve lost a lot of friends over the years. Sometimes on missions which weren’t heroic. You’ve been taught in school the people outside of our borders are dangerous, evil savages. The truth is they’re just people. People who are hungry, afraid, or desperate will do things they wouldn’t normally. This doesn’t make them bad people. It just makes them less fortunate.”

  Anita seemed to hear what I was saying. “What about the monsters, Dad? They took over our world.”

  It was treason to say you sympathized with the creatures outside. “They’re a different story. Still, they’ve been on this planet a very long time. In many cases, longer than us. They’re also powerful. I’ve seen a lot of soldiers high on patriotism and vigor rush into situations where they think they can start taking the planet back from the monsters. That kind of arrogance gets them killed.”

  “Shouldn’t we be trying to take back the planet?” Anita asked, surprised.

  I took a deep breath, pondering how to explain what I was worried about. “Anita, I’ll support you in any endeavor you choose to take. However, if I can impart any single piece of advice to you, it’s this. Don’t worry about the Great Old Ones, mutants, monsters, or demons.”

  Anita looked confused. “Excuse me?”

  I pointed at Gabriel. “Worry about him. The job of a soldier isn’t to destroy the enemy, despite what you’ve heard in class or read in storybooks. The job of being a soldier is to protect those under his care. It’s what separates us from warriors and bandits. Those people who use violence to intimidate others. You won’t always be able to make your own calls either, as that’s what the chain of command is for. Sometimes you’ll be asked to do the wrong thing, though, and you’ll have to do it because that’s the way the system functions. If you remember Gabriel, your spouse in the future, your friends, and others—and let them be the ones you think of—then you’ll be able to be a good soldier. What helps them is to stay alive and keep your fellow soldiers alive.”

  It wasn’t the best advice, full of holes really, but I’d always muddled through fatherhood.

  Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t.

  Anita put her hand on my mine and I put my arm around her. “I think I understand.”

  I gave her
a kiss on the forehead. “You’re the person I think of when I’m out there, Anita. You and your brother. As long as I have those I love, I’ll be able to endure anything.”

  Anita gave me a hug and I held her tight.

  That was when I heard the sound of an explosion and watched as Gabriel and Anita disappeared in flames. The memory was twisted and deformed even as I stood among their burnt skeletons in the ruins of our home. Turning upward, my heart beating so fast I felt like I was going to die, I saw the form of a Cthulhuoid horror standing over New Arkham.

  It was a hundred feet tall with leathery bat-wings, the tentacled mouth of its ancient father, and a body both fat and repulsive. The creature drove men mad by its mere presence, causing them to kill their wives and children or be killed by them. In its terrible grandiose presence I realized I was not looking at a dream but reality. Not a precise vision of events but, even now, New Arkham was being destroyed by one of Ward’s creatures.

  Unharmed by the explosion, I raised my arms to the air and screamed before falling to my knees. I begged in that moment for madness to claim me, only for laughter to ring in my ears behind me.

  “It is your dream,” Nyarlathotep said, behind me. “If you do not like its contents then you should simply change the parameters.”

  I looked over to him. “This is reality.”

  The Black Soldier was standing among the ruins of my former house, looming over the bodies of Anita and Gabriel. “What is reality? Everything you experience exists in that tiny little brain of yours, a collection of wet matter and electricity. A dream is no less valid than reality as there is no way to tell the difference, really.”

  I gritted my teeth. “Is that what you told Ward? Is that why he murdered those children and sent them to this place?”

  “Yes,” Nyarlathotep said. “They live with the Small Gods of the Earth now. You could go there with your children now and dream for them the life you always wanted.”

  “They’re dead.”