The Idolaters of Cthulhu

by H. David Blalock

  They would pay now, though. Oh, how they would pay. The Old Ones were coming. The Old Ones were almost here. And they were hungry. Hungry for the liars. Hungry for the hypocrites. Hungry for the ones who laughed at people like Tommy Fuchs. He was special and the whole world would see that. See it right before they were eaten.

  He smiled as he walked from his SUV. He saw others had already arrived. An assortment of vehicles were parked, hidden in the woods. He saw plates from all over the northeast and from as far away as Philly. A couple dozen in all. He joined a couple of men as they headed toward the falls. They nodded knowingly at each other.

  He was jittery with excitement as he walked, but he tapped in down. He wanted them to know he was in control. They exchanged simple pleasantries at first as they walked. No one knew what to expect tonight. He could tell, though, the others were just as excited at what tonight was to bring. And they were jealous of him. He was a local and the Old Ones, they would eat here first. One even said it, right out loud.

  "All your tormenters, all your doubters, they will know first what the new world will be like. They will see the real you.”

  Tommy felt a surge of pride on the inside. Yes, they would know. And soon.

  IV.

  From the F.B.I. Special Investigations Report(S.I.R.) 3/23/13 (classified)

  As to why Tommy Fuchs was chosen we will never know. He, obviously, is in no condition to tell us. We have no reason to think this will ever change. By all accounts in the days, months and years leading up to the events of late July and early August there was no discernible change in his behavior. He was an outgoing and pleasant young man who did his job well. According to some accounts, he was even more so in the months leading up to the events in question. He pursued women with the normal vigor of male of his age and had his share of success in that department. The one departure from normal behaviors is that he did seem to shrink from his more long term relationships. This was noticed by more than one friend. He did not cut himself off from long term friends, but did cut back time spent with them. Not enough to seem odd until after the fact. There is nothing in his behavior that would help us identify future problem people.

  Witness statement from F.B.I. S.I.R. - Deputy Alan Forrestor

  No one really thought anything of it at the time. We all took long weekends at one time or another throughout the year. Tommy loved to fish and spent a lot time alone out at the lake. He was always bragging about this fish or that fish that he had caught. Hey, Alan, check out this fish on my phone. So when he took off that weekend, I certainly did not think twice about it. I wish I would have Hell, now I wish I had just put a couple rounds into him weeks ago, but who could have known what was coming that weekend. No one. Tommy was just a normal guy, chasing women, drinking beer, all the normal stuff. He did smile.... a lot. [Witness shrugs] Who thinks that is a clue, you know? [Post event examination of Tommy Fuch's phone revealed only four pics of fish. All of which were over six months old. Whatever Tommy was doing at the lake over that time period, is a reasonable to think it was not fishing.]

  *****

  Tommy arrived with his new friends at the falls. They knew where to go. A large cave off to the side of the falls was the chosen location. Out of sight. He knew he would spend few days there. He had cleaned the area just three days ago. He had carved out all the symbols on the walls as he had instructed him. He had carved out the symbols on the floor in the center for the altar and kept it covered for weeks. No one knew. He had kept the teenagers away. No one knew. He had done well. He wanted to hear it from him. He needed to hear it. He longed to hear that he had done well. He had spent months dedicating his every moment to the mission, to the trust, that had been placed in him. He would surely come and tell him. Tommy refused to seek him out. He had to wait. But he knew he would seek him out and let him know he had done well.

  Others sought him out. So many wanted to know what he knew. He played it calm. He listened more than he talked. He simply said he was serving the Old Ones. Oh, yes, he wanted to see everyone punished and said that. All those who had wronged him. All those who looked down on him. Oh, he wanted to see them punished. That was what he had earned with his service. But it was all for the Old Ones. They must be fed with the liars and hypocrites and this county was rife with those people. People had not earned their life, their good fortune, stepping over those who deserved more. People like Tommy Fuchs. Oh, he had waited months, suffered in silence for months, waiting for this day. Oh, but he said little of all that. Just enough to let the others know he was like them. He wanted the world to pay its just due. But he always said, "I serve the Old Ones, I want to see them serve justice, to feed them the unjust." He talked about the Old Ones, mostly. He wanted everyone to know. All he had done. It was for them.

  He was relieved to learn he had visited no one more than once. He had waited day after day for a second visit from him. Yearned for it. He had been scared he had visited someone, anyone, more than once. It would have crushed him. Every conversation he had, his stomach went empty, scared to hear that someone had been gifted with a second visit. And with every conversation, he almost visibly exhaled with relief to learn that no one had been so gifted.

  Fear was starting to grip him as everyone started to get ready. He had not come to talk to him yet. He started to sulk a little. He had earned some kind of recognition. He had suffered for the Old Ones and he wanted to hear it said that he had done well. He wanted others to hear him praise him. He was the emissary of the Old Ones. What he said mattered. All the others should hear what Tommy Fuchs had done.

  He smiled and talked. When he dared, he shifted around to catch a glimpse of him. Where was he? Why does he not give me my due?

  Then, when he was about to scream in frustration, there he was. Right at his side, as if from nowhere.

  He spoke from beneath his cowl.

  "You have done well, Tommy Fuchs," he said from a mouth filled with razor sharp, shark-like teeth. He bent over, his face right up in Tommy's face. Being so close to him, Tommy almost forgot his lament. Fear overtook him and he was speechless. He thought maybe he had lost bladder control. He would need to check on that. Later.

  He fought to regain his composure and his speech. He rose up and spoke to the others in the cave. He spoke of the work Tommy had done. Of the sacrifices Tommy had made. How the coming of the Old Ones was served by the efforts of one Tommy Fuchs.

  The deputy recovered and his pride swelled. He had remembered. He had kept his promise.

  Tommy could see how all the others looked at him. With envy. He loved that. Many came to congratulate him. To thank him. He saw that people respected him. That knew he was important. He swelled with pride. "I serve the Old Ones," was all he said.

  V.

  From the F.B.I. Special Investigations Report(S.I.R.) 3/23/13 (classified)

  There is no evidence to suggest Sheriff Custer was in on the plot with his deputy. All evidence points to the deputy being a quite cunning individual. The suggestion that somehow Sheriff Custer should have been able to sniff out the tragic night beforehand has been thoroughly discredited in this report and elsewhere. Tommy Fuchs' actions were well planned and devised to last only days, just long enough to see the culmination of his actions come to fruition: that being the coming of the Old Ones.

  Witness statement from F.B.I. S.I.R. - Sheriff Dylan Custer

  I did my job. I was elected sheriff. People trust that I will protect them. Can I go now? [Other than the sheriffs own after-action reports, which are of the "just the facts" nature we know nothing of his thoughts on the events in question as it pertains to his role. Did he suspect his deputy? How did he arrive on scene so quickly? The only thing we know for certain is that he does not like us being in his town.]

  *****

  He led them. Tommy stood among the thirty-six assembled in the cave. Three circles of men chanting around the altar in the center of the cave. He stood with those in the center circle. He swelled with pride at this fact. He kne
w that he still had work to do. The fetching still had to be done and he had that all planned. But for now he stood with him and they chanted around the altar. They were opening a door for the Old Ones. He was ready. He had planned. They stood for hours, almost in a group trance. They did not eat. Drank little.

  *****

  Morning time. Tommy tried to stretch as he walked. Who knew standing made one so stiff? So tired? He could endure. Now was not the time to show weakness. Not with all his planning, all his pushing the pieces into place.

  The cabin was up ahead. Six men were with him. He had wanted more, but he said that was all he could spare. The rest chanted. The chanting was nonstop. The Old Ones needed a show of dedication, a show of desire. The chanting got dull. He was happy to have been chosen for something less monotonous.

  Inside the cabin was a collection of ten teens. Five girls, five boys. He knew they would be there. The sheriff's office had a backdoor into the school net and the school net allowed social networking if you knew how. Little did the kids know their phones ran through it whenever they were on campus. He giggled to himself. The school did not even know. He, Tommy, had set it up. The knowledge had come to him when he needed it. The school net had given him all he needed to set this little shindig up.

  The cabin belonged to his Uncle Harold. The kids had tried to set this weekend party up two weeks ago, without Harold knowing. Tommy had quickly asked Harold if he could have the cabin for the weekend. Harold, who worked most weekends at Jacks had said, "no problem." Disaster averted.

  The sun was coming up. Just as he had planned. No teenager at a weekend-long party would be up. The cabin was well stocked with booze. He was sure, from all their texts, they planned to drink. Going in at dawn ensured they could gather them up with no resistance.

  The entire group was on the back deck watching the sunrise. Tommy and his men had almost been spotted but the teens were too absorbed in their own activity. He cursed inside. He wanted to scream. How could they mess this up for him? He remembered his teeth. Inches from his face. Breath on his skin. The foul smell emanating from that mouth. Old, eaten meat. He wondered for a moment: If I fail, could that be me? No. No. NO. I am special. I was chosen.

  He regained his composure. Quickly, he spread them out. They were all hunters. They knew how to move through the woods. He had carefully chosen them. He waited. When they were in place, he slung his rifle over his shoulder, put on his best smile and just walked up to the back porch.

  "Uncle Tommy," a pretty brunette girl on the back porch almost squealed. She almost jumped up, but stayed in place.

  "Hey, Uncle Tommy, you out hunting?"

  Forced casual. Oh, she was cunning, too. Guess it runs in the family. She's not as cunning as me, though.

  "Melissa, I did not know you were here," Tommy said. He smiled a good smile.

  "Oh, we are just enjoying the sunrise," Melissa offered. Oh, she is so smooth. Inside all scared. Will Uncle Tommy blow up? Will he tell daddy?

  Tommy walked right on by. As if this were the most natural thing in the world. No, nothing wrong here.

  "I am thirsty," he said. He went into the kitchen and got a glass of water. He carried it back out and started to drink it. He whistled a bit on the way to the porch. So casual. He had found his place, serving the Old Ones. He would be so proud if he could just see Tommy Fuchs at work right now.

  He unslung the rifle. He let out a gentle sigh.

  "Such a beautiful sunrise, isn't it, kids?"

  He raised the rifle and smashed it into one of the boys' heads and, quick as you like, took a step back, leveling his .308 at the teens.

  "Uncle Tommy." The look in Melissa's eyes was priceless. She had never known.

  Oh, yes, he would be so proud.

  VI.

  From the F.B.I. Special Investigations Report(S.I.R.) 3/23/13 (classified)

  There have been questions raised concerning the conclusions raised in this report. Theories of mass hallucination have been put forward. The prospect of simple outright fraud has been raised. It must be pointed out again, the detail this unit has gone to in order to support our conclusions. The testimony supported by the extensive physical evidence shred all counter explanations. In short, this report is the authority on what happened in Ford's Falls in late July to early August.

  Witness statement from F.B.I. S.I.R. - Will Stobbel

  Hell, yes, I had my phone out. And I still want it back. I know you think you have this all sewed up with your cover story, what you put out to the papers and on the internet. I have my phone and I know what I saw. Give me my phone back! [Witness is shouting, visibly upset.] You know, you idiots, my carrier backs up everything in the cloud. You can all go to hell. I will just see what is in the cloud. You cannot cover this up. It's in the cloud. Idiots! All of you!

  *****

  Oh, yes, he would be so proud. How well he had done. All of the teens back. No more than a little bump on the head. No one injured. Oh, the girls and one of the boys, they cried. No one ever got hurt from some tears. Nicely tied together and sitting in the corner. Melissa. She would have been such a servant for the Old Ones. Such fire. She had cried a little, but oh, she had quickly shown her steel. Her fire. And oh, he hated her, too. Just like her dad. So sure of herself.

  Tommy wanted to make sure she went last to the altar. He wanted the delight of her tears as all of her friends went under the knife to the Old Ones. Surely, surely, she would cry a river of tears. Oh, they would be delicious. The emissary had them pulled one by one as the prayers continued. He put his tentacled fingers on Tommy and he both burst with pride and revulsion as he was chosen to pull the teens one by one. He still felt the sliminess on his clothes. Revulsion and longing filled him as he worked. One day, if he served well, he knew that gift would be his. He was earning it.

  As he pulled the third teen to the altar, ignoring the pleas of mercy, he looked around at the faithful servants of the Old Ones. The hours of standing, the hours of chants, were taking their toll. Fear held them in place. An hour before, one unlucky man, a soft, plump, middle-aged man who looked like he may have been an accountant, had passed out. The emissary had fallen on him so fast many had not realized what had happened.

  With preternatural speed, the emissary fell upon the fallen man. No one stopped chanting but all eyes were on the robed, tentacled man as he tore the hapless man limb from limb, stopping only to feast on his flesh with his rows of shark-like teeth. He was in a frenzy as he worked, ripping off limbs and tearing into innards with both teeth and tentacled hands. Five minutes later, hunched over a bloody half-eaten mess of a corpse, he had risen, covered in blood and announced to no one in particular, "You are not worthy of the Old Ones," and returned to his place at the center of the circled chanters.

  No one else fell out for hours.

  As Tommy handed over the third offering to the emissary, he saw a glimmer over the altar. It was the faintest of something just there in the air. It reminded him of the shimmering in the air that rises from gasoline fumes. For a moment, he felt fear that arose from the deepest depths of his self. He felt his bladder empty. He wanted for the briefest of seconds to flee, to run as long and as far as he could, to hide, somewhere, anywhere, to curl up in a ball and cry softly. He did none of theses things. He felt the foul breath of the emissary behind him. He stayed quite still.

  "It is the Old Ones," he said, his breath foul and hot on his neck. "You can feel them, yes?"

  Tommy watched the hole grow little by little over the next hours and days. With every offering, it grew. With every offering, the dread grew in him. With every offering, he loathed the emissary for what he was bringing into the world. With every offering, the pride grew in him. He knew the Old Ones would be proud of him. Every time a chanter fell, he watched the emissary feast and make his pronouncement. He would never fall out, he thought to himself with pride. He would earn his place by the Old Ones. He wondered if the emissary would fall out. What would he taste like?

  VII
.

  From the F.B.I. Special Investigations Report(S.I.R.) 3/23/13 (classified)

  The biggest question that remains is as to whether the actions taken by Sheriff Custer can be successfully repeated with the next incursion of the Old Ones into our world. Also, how did he know his actions would prove to be successful? Indeed, did he know? Sheriff Custer has returned to his duties and all indications are he believes his actions are repeatable. While he has not indicated to us anything worthwhile, his actions since the event belie this belief.

  Witness statement from F.B.I. S.I.R. - Sally Moore

  I was at Steuben’s, the waffle house on Second Street. Tommy came in looking all crazy. This was before the town went all crazy, before anyone knew what was going on, because I would have been long gone. I am seventy-five years old. I am too old for crazy and that night was crazy. I have never seen anything like it in my seventy-five years. Anyway, Tommy comes in looking all crazy and says, "they are here." That's it, "they are here," as if anyone knows what he is talking about. Then behind him, walks in this guy in long robes with his hood up and you can't see what is under it. He raises up tall and all theatrical and all. HHe... he slowly pulls his hood back, saying in this voice, [witness visibly shudders and starts to cry] "yes, they are here."