by Bo Luellen
Just then, a sharp crack of breaking ropes snapped in the air from the other coffin that was ten feet away. One end had fallen free, while the other was now holding the entire weight. The wooden box groaned at the new stress points, and it spun in a circle.
Thomas yelled out from inside his box, “What was that?”
David took a deep breath and felt his anxiety building, “T-those things put us in coffins and hung us over a river, under a train trestle. I made it over to you, but we’re not going to last long before the ropes give. T-there’s another casket, and it just lost one of its ropes. I’m guessing Nicolaas is inside.”
Thomas yelled out, “What’s our plan?”
David rubbed his legs, “I was hoping you had some ideas.”
The sharp splintering of wood shot out in the night. Nicolaas ’s knee stuck out of his dangling coffin. A second later, a leg lurched out of the hole, and the lid was wedged open.
The druid yelled up, “Hey, what’s that noise?”
The young Van Helsing swung out from the opening and grabbed hold of the rope that was still attached. Amid the windy underbelly of the train tracks, the casket folded. Nicolaas kept his grip as the box crumbled into pieces and fell into the river. Moving one hand over the next, the shirtless would-be vampire hunter ascended the rope until he had his foot sitting in the loop.
David lifted his arm and waved, “It’s Nicolaas . He’s out.”
Thomas replied, “Great. Let’s do what he did.”
He rested his head on the ropes, “Not likely.”
Nicolaas yelled over, “How are you two holding up?”
He gave an okay sign and screamed, “Dandy!”
The young man moved his hips and managed to create a swing that drew him ever closer to David. After a few minutes, Nicolaas dropped down and held on only by his hands. Kicking his feet out, he increased his arc and hooked his legs around one of Thomas’s support ropes. Like a trapeze artist, he locked himself in place and tied his rope off to theirs. His biceps bulged as he worked his way down until he was standing next to David on the coffin lid.
David gave a wary look to Nicolaas , “You’re … chipper.”
The Van Helsing gave him a grin, “My Granddad used to lock me in rooms or leave me out in the wild. I had to learn techniques that would allow me to survive. I’ve gone up to two days without food.”
As Nicolaas hovered over Thomas’s upper half of his casket, David replied, “Charming.”
In the distance, the sound of a train whistle bellowed out, and Thomas exclaimed, “Come on! You’ve got to be kidding!”
Nicolaas put one hand on each of the supporting ropes and yelled, “Thomas, turn your head and close your eyes!”
The young man lifted his heel and slammed his foot down on the top of the lid. The box cracked, and the druid let out a high pitched scream. Nicolaas cleared the loose boards and revealed a bloody-nosed Thomas Booth. The young man helped him up to his feet and moved him to the opposite end from David.
Nicolaas turned around and pointed at a support pillar, some fifteen feet away, “Okay, here is how we get out of here. I’m going to take both of you, in turn, over to that beam.”
David shook his head, “Good plan, kid, but it won’t work. I don’t think either of us is in any condition to make that happen. My hands are toast and Thomas…”
The druid patted his belly through his brown cloak, “I’m too fat. I’ll say it.”
Nicolaas took off his belt and wrapped it around Thomas, “I’m threading the belt through my belt loops. This will give you some additional support, but you got to try your best to not rely on them. If those loops snap, you’re falling, and David won’t have his turn. With any luck, it will only take one swing.”
The sweaty druid looked at David, who shook his head and said, “It’s worth a shot.”
A few minutes later, Thomas was latched onto the front of Nicolaas , as the young man reached up and laced the rope around his hand. With a quick jerk, the slip knot was free, and the druid screamed out, as they swung towards the support beam. David heard the grunt, as the two smacked hard against the unforgiving trestle column.
Nicolaas yelled, “Turn around a grab hold! I can’t support us both for long!”
Thomas stepped up onto a ledge of the pillar and unbuckled himself from the young man. Booth kissed the rusty metal, while Nicolaas caught his breath. David felt the weariness set in and looked down at the reflection of the moonlight in the river, as the tormenting train passed overhead.
From the pillar, Thomas yelled, “Look!”
David lazily looked where the druid was pointing and saw the vague outline of two people sitting on the shore of the river, close to where they were. He turned his tired body slightly and tried to make out what he was seeing.
Thomas made his way down the pillar, as Nicolaas shouted, “It’s the Lanyons! It’s the girls! They’re just sitting on the shore!”
They were dressed in all black clothes, with alien-looking symbols etched in dried blood on their faces. All around them were burnt candles, and rocks lined up in a 10-foot wide pentagram formation. Surrounding the kids were the bodies of countless dead fish that had bites taken out of their bellies.
Nancy saw them descending and screamed, “No! You were supposed to die! We were going to get to watch!”
Nicolaas looked back at David and laced his belt into the loop in the rope, “I need to help him. Take this and get yourself across.”
The Van Helsing slung the heavy line out, and David caught it in his hand. Nicolaas zipped down the pillar, passing Thomas on the way. The girls screamed in rage as the men approached the bottom. The pair of girls turned and bolted off the embankment, away from the fast-moving river. The men waded furiously across the rapids in hot pursuit.
David felt a presence and looked to his left. Sitting next to him on the casket was the blonde-haired superwoman, no more than a foot away. She seemed more tangible and real than ever before. Turning her body towards him, she leaned on the rope and set her deep blue eyes on his beleaguered face.
David no longer felt the cold or the will to run, “Are you real?”
She pushed a thumb under the mask and pulled it off. The sharp cheekbone of a strange blonde glowed in the moonlight. The woman slid off her black turtleneck to reveal her bare upper body. Her skin was painted with arcane tattoos that stretched around her torso in chaotic patterns. Her muscles were toned and tight to the surface, with veins poking out along her shoulders. The woman’s breasts were the only thing not marked.
Her etchings glowed with dark red energy, “Long ago, my father taught me how to awaken in my dreams. Since then, my Lord Cthulhu has taught me how to walk into others. You are a special person David Keller, and I’ve been testing you.”
David put his hand on his forehead and irrationally scratched a bloody path along his own flesh, “Who are you?”
She held up her right hand and drew a glowing pattern in the air, “I’m the daughter of one of the greatest sorcerers of our time. I’m the Sword of Cthulhu, and one day I will be his concubine. You caught my attention back in the Preserve. I hoped you would please The Dreamer, and I could have you.”
Below him, Nicolaas came back out of the brush with April, as the little girl screamed, “No! You made Violet give us up, but we will make her love us again. We will find her!”
Thomas burst out of the same thick bushes, with Nancy in a headlock, “The Shining twins are creeping me out. Can we just hit them with a rock or something?”
The woman conjured up an image of their fight at the Preserve, “You caught my attention during our fight. It’s the first time since my father gifted me with the strength of the Elder God that anyone was able to confront my power. I had hoped you would please The Dreamer but look at you, a frail old man. You’re so tired, and yet, a coward too scared to sleep. No, Cthulhu has selected another for me.”
He scooted back away from the impossible magic she was displaying. David saw the
fight being replayed, and he felt the suffocation of not being able to escape her. She stood up and flared her hands outwards. Red flaming tentacles shot out of her bare skin and wrapped themselves around the casket. He felt the hot fire on his flesh, as one burned into his pants.
He shook his head repeatedly and screamed, “No! No! This can’t be real!”
She blinked, and her eye sockets were empty, “I walk in your dreams. Here, I’ll find the little terrors you dare not speak out loud and set them up on high, for all to see. I’ll make you crave the bile of your own body and deprive you of every pleasure. Scurry away little flea, let me see you fly.”
David shot out of his slumber and flailed his hands at the illusions of his arcane nightmares. He was alone on top of the casket and unable to separate the echoes of the spellbound dream and reality. Not fully realizing where he was, the big man launched himself off the battered coffin and into the night air. His companions below yelled in disbelief, as he streaked for the shallow water below. He heard the snapping of his neck and felt the cold water rush over his body. His mind shut down, and in the darkness, the realm of Cthulhu opened its gates and welcomed his soul.
Chapter 15: Amanda VIII
The Wilds of Scotland – Thursday, November 15th, 2018 – Early a.m. BST
Her last night at camp with Roger Quinlynn, Ian MacLean, Peyton Greum, and her college friend, Josh Dyer, seemed like a distant dream. Amanda Lanyon had been pursued relentlessly by the Crimson Brotherhood for over three grueling days. Every attempt to make for civilization resulted in her finding Brotherhood patrols in the forest. She kept to wilds and hidden from the black helicopters that seemed to suspiciously frequent the skies above her.
She had run out of Cliff Bars on the second day, and her pace had slowed up from a mixture of fatigue and lack of nutrition. Staying hydrated had been another problem, as she had only found several small caches of trapped water in puddles and leaves. Those little pockets of moisture were not enough to fuel her need to stay on the move to avoid being spotted.
This morning, she was startled awake by the sounds of someone stomping through the woods nearby. Amanda poked her head up over the cover of twigs and foliage she had assembled. She quietly raked some of the dried leaves on top of her legs and pressed her head down against the sticks.
Her heart pounded in fear, as two black-clad men carrying rifles jogged out of the tree line and towards one another. Neither of them was in good shape, and they both struggled to catch their breath. They met 20 feet away, and she suddenly realized how vulnerable she was. Her cover was nothing more than dried out twigs, which wouldn’t have a hope of stopping a high powered bullet. She gritted her teeth and imagined she was one with the ground.
Amanda tried to control her fear, They could see a foot sticking out or my breath in the cold. Oh, God help me!
The Crimson Brotherhood insignia glistened in the morning sun, as the fatter of the two greeted the other in R’Lyehian, “Llll h’ nafl’fhtagn!, Th’ master says we cannae stoap ‘til Amanda Lanyon is deid.”
The other man kicked a rock and yelled, “We’ve bin oot ‘ere fur days! Whit’s sae important aboot this wifie?”
His pudgier companion answered, “Grand Master Enfield isnae saying. Th’ Irish sect is oan thair wey tae hulp, sae it mist be important!.”
The second voice scoffed, “We dinnae need they Lowlanders! we’d be better aff wi’oot thaim!.”
His friend retorted, “We’ve bin at this fur three days. If ah dinnae fin’ thaim, mah wife’s gaun think a’m cheating oan her.”
The slimmer man patted his companion’s robust belly, “Wi’ wha, a piece o’ shortbread?”
They shared a chuckle and then agreed on a direction to search. The two split up and yelled into the radio, as they marched off. Amanda got up from her hiding place and looked around the forest, hopelessly lost. All of her clothes were ruined and torn in several places. Even the well-made outdoors coat Josh had purchased for her was caked with mud and weathering at the seams. Arms slumped at her side, she picked up a stout stick and trogged onward to the next miserable destination.
The Wilds of Scotland – Thursday, November 15th, 2018 – Late p.m. BST
Amanda rounded a large oak to find a small abandoned barn in the middle of a clearing. The paint had all but peeled from its outer walls and only hinted at its original green color. The roof was made of rusted tin, and there were holes in the boards.
She felt an exhilaration come over her. Oh, you’re a lovely sight.
Making her way cautiously across to the dilapidated threshold, she scanned the darkening skies for any sign of the Brotherhood. Moving inside the dirt-floored barn, she took stock of the dead and dying grass. Only a small bush was left in the corner, and full of ripe blue colored berries.
She dropped her walking stick and cried, Crowberries!
Amanda sprinted towards the bush and tore a handful of the small fruits from its branches. Devouring the tasteless berries, she hit her knees and forgot about the hunters. She filled her empty stomach and welcomed the succulent gift until her hands were stained sapphire. Once her belly couldn’t hold another bite, she stuffed her pockets with what was left on the bush. Exhausted and in pain, she laid down next to her savior. As night fell, Amanda slipped out of consciousness under the rickety metal and dreamed of her daughters.
The Wilds of Scotland – Friday, November 16th, 2018 – Early a.m. BST
The next morning she woke up in a start at the sound of a loud click. She opened her eyes and found a red-bearded man in black tactical garb standing at the entrance to the barn. He had a bolt action hunting rifle pointed at her head and was struggling with the mechanism.
The man tried to work the stuck bolt action, “Jobby!”
Her muscles were sore to the point of being immobile, but Amanda still summoned up the willpower to stand. The cultist worked the slide back and forth, attempting to remove the jam. She staggered towards her walking stick, as the man threw down the rifle and pulled out a buck knife. The gun landed on a pile of dead grass, and something living gave a loud squeak. As the redhead stalked her, the dead foliage shifted under the rifle, and something furry stuck its snout out of his hole.
In a flash, a black and white badger bolted out of its den and sunk its teeth into the calf of Amanda’s would-be assassin. The Scot screamed in agony and lost his balance. Falling forward, he kicked his leg out in an attempt to get the animal free of its hold. The badger was invested in his suffering and growled with anger.
Amanda kicked the cultist in the face, as he reached for her foot. Blood and curses streamed out of his mouth, while the badger made a meal of his calf. She snatched up her stick and swung with all her might. Her makeshift staff found its mark on the point of his chin and broke the wood in half. Amanda scrambled to the corner of the small barn and frantically looked for something to defend herself with.
The Brotherhood member lay face down and motionless on the ground. She suddenly noticed something in the back of his jacket was poking up. Something underneath his coat was making a tiny tent in the small of his back. He twitched for a moment and then went still.
The badger stopped his assault and removed a chunk of the redhead’s muscle. It waddled back to its dugout home and gave her no regard. She slid down the wall until her butt flopped on the ground..
Ten minutes passed before she was stirred from her shock by a man’s voice coming from an earphone that had been knocked loose, “Th’ Seers located Amanda Lanyon. We ur meetin at rally point Charlie in twenty minutes. Acknowledge.”
Energized by the sound of people still out there looking to kill her, she worked her way back up to her feet. Careful to avoid her roommate’s front door, she made her way over to the dead man. Grabbing under his arm, Amanda strained and pushed the body onto its back. As it settled, the handle of the buck knife stuck out of the man’s chest. The weight of the corpse rested on the tip of the weapon and slowly pushed the blade back out the way it had entered.
She gagged and turned her face away from the sound of tissue sliding against steel.
Realizing time was against her, she reached out and grabbed the throat microphone. Amanda examined the device, rolling it over in her hand. She put the radio around her neck and secured it. She shoved the earbuds into in place and heard, “Hunter 2 Acknowledged... Hunter 5 Acknowledged... Hunter 12 Acknowledged...”
Amanda felt her hair stand on end as the call signs counted in the twenties. Lanyon kept a tally on the dirt floor of all the codenames she heard over the radio. After a few minutes, all the numbers up to twenty-five had reported, except for one.
She squeezed the call button on her throat and announced in a low voice, “Hunter 7, Acknowledged.”
Amanda held her breath until finally a man said, “A’ hunters acknowledged.”
Amanda stood up and thought, How do they keep finding me? When they meet, they’ll figure out one of their guys are missing and it won’t be long before they come looking. I’ve got to move!