The Adventures of Andrew Doran: Box Set

by Matthew Davenport

  “I can’t hold it for long. Let’s move.”

  The strain from the void was only slightly worse than the strain of gravity had been when I was holding the mast. I would be slipping soon.

  We ran across the deck as men slid past us and came to the breeches-buoy.

  The basket was larger than was usual, refitted to deal with the larger crates we had needed to move to the shore. Somehow in the chaos the pulley had been damaged and the basket had fallen into the icy waters.

  I pulled my sword and cut a length of thick anchor rope, and then another. “We’ll loop it over the top and slide down,” I explained.

  Sebastian nodded before amending, “You will.” I was confused until he nodded toward the point where the breeches-buoy anchored to the side of the boat.

  The bolts were already warped and they were getting worse as we watched.

  “Damn!” I shouted and almost threw the lengths of rope that I had collected.

  Sebastian placed his hand on my shoulder. “I can support it,” he grabbed the length of rope that he was supposed to use to slide to the shore. “I should be able to hold it long enough for you to get across.”

  I shook my head. “You will die. I can’t let you do that, not for me.”

  He barked a laugh. “Then for who shall I die? No one has done as much for me and my people as you have. We owe you so much.” Sebastian wrapped his rope around the smaller mast that anchored the breeches-buoy assembly to the side of the ship. He pulled, bracing himself against the side of the ship as strain entered his face. “I don’t plan on dying. I’m strong Innsmouth stock and I can handle the icy currents. Start a fire for me in the camp and I will be there nice and warm when you return.”

  I couldn’t argue with his determination. I needed to be the one to get to the shore if I was going to stop Strobel. Sebastian was good people, though, and he shouldn’t have to die. On the other hand, he was also right about his genetics. If anyone could survive this ship sinking into those dark icy waters, it would be Sebastian and his crew.

  I hoped so anyway.

  I nodded to him and clasped his shoulder. “Thank you, friend. I expect to see you on that shore.” Sebastian smiled through his straining face and nodded back.

  “Go!”

  I threw the rope over the buoy cable and leapt.

  The ship shuddered and shook through the rope as I slid down the cable and toward the shore. The lurching of the cable in reply to the sinking ship threatened to buck me off on multiple occasions, but I made it to the shore, only barely. As soon as the ice and snow were under me, the rope, and supposedly Sebastian, let go. I fell the remaining six feet and rolled into the snow.

  I got to my feet as quickly as I could and turned to look at the ship. It had sunk almost half into the water and it was speeding up. I couldn’t see Sebastian anywhere, but I had also let go of the magic holding him to the deck once he grabbed onto the breeches-buoy. Hopefully, he had gotten away from the undertow.

  Turning away from the sight of the ship and whatever subsequent explosions planned to follow, I made my way back to the camp. The breeches-buoy was supposed get the crates to the shore, but the shore was too windy for the campsite. With that in mind, the campsite was moved about a hundred yards more inland. It didn’t help much, as the entire continent was covered with a really strong wind, but it made a small difference.

  The first thing that I did was round up the three dogs. I wasn’t going to be walking through the snow to catch up to Strobel and his men. I tied the dogs all to the sled and threw them some meat from one of the crates.

  Then I grabbed the weapon crate, a snow suit, snowshoes, bedding, and a tent and strapped them down on the sled. While the dogs finished the meat, I moved each of the crates and the other tents much closer together. I piled the crates into a makeshift wall to block the wind and began putting together a fire with our extra firewood.

  I covered the wood with some of the extra fuel we brought along for the plane. Within minutes I had a raging fire sitting about six feet away from a large stack of supplies and a tent. Hopefully, Sebastian and whatever men he found would be able to find it before they froze to death.

  The secondary hope that I had for the fire was that Strobel and his men would see the smoke and figure it was whatever was left of the boat. Maybe Sebastian and his crew would be able to last long enough for me to successfully complete my mission, find some means of sailing back to America, and actually return back to them with said means.

  Yes, it was impossible, but I was moving forward by taking it one piece at a time.

  The first piece was to follow Strobel and his Nazi army into the heart of the terrible alien city.

  I yelled “Mush,” and allowed the dogs to pull me in the direction of army’s tracks.

  Before the dogs and I had taken off, I had also slipped more of the winter attire from the crates. I was grateful that I had. The wind tore at my face and clothes as the dogs carried me over the snow.

  I kept glancing over my shoulder, long after the shore was out of sight, to see any sign of Sebastian and his clan of Innsmouth folk. Of course, there was no sign.

  Pulling the coat hood tighter around my face, I yelled again for the dogs.

  Even though they had an hour head start, I hadn’t expected Strobel to be traveling as quickly as he was. The miscalculation on my part was that I assumed they were traveling on foot. The winds had picked up considerably since the sinking of the Arkatonic, but the drifting snows hadn’t covered all of their tracks. About three miles from the shore I found paths of kicked up snow that led toward the mountains. Each path was approximately twelve feet wide.

  The Germans were in vehicles. My guess was that they rode in large trucks on treads. I wasn’t going to be catching up with them at all. Quite the opposite, actually. The Germans were going to pull away from me.

  I kept the dogs moving and tried to calculate how I would catch up with my quarry.

  The short answer was that I couldn’t. The trucks could travel at probably twice the speed of the dogs and still retain a semblance of a safe speed. They also wouldn’t need to rest, which the beautiful dogs leading my sled most definitely would. The trucks were also protecting their men from the harsh winds. I wasn’t protected at all and the wind wasn’t only chilling me, but it was also draining me of energy. I would need to rest just as much as the dogs would.

  That night, I did just that. I couldn’t keep the dogs running as hard as I wanted and the wind was beginning to get colder and harsher as the evening hours came. I stopped the sled and we rested. It was three hours before I opened my eyes again. The tent from the crates kept most of the cold wind off of me, and I was using a small kerosene heater to keep the cold from killing me. I had also pulled the dogs into the tent with me. Four dogs, a kerosene heater, and stubborn Dean was enough to keep me from losing any toes.

  The plan had been to travel straight through the night, but I hadn’t been prepared for how cold the nights in the Antarctic were. In hindsight, that sounds kind of dumb, but when you’ve faced down as many monsters and climates as I had, you just started expecting to be prepared.

  The cold kept me from sleeping the rest of the night and as soon as the dogs began to stir, I packed up the camp and hooked the dogs back to the sled. I pulled my wrappings and coat tight around me and took off after the Germans again.

  My first break came about an hour after I took off. The sun was glistening off of the snow with such blinding light that I kept my eyes closed most of the time, only opening them to make sure that we were still following the path the Germans had carved into the snow. I had lucked out in that regard. The winds from the previous night hadn’t destroyed the trail the Germans had been making.

  It was during one of those stretches with my eyes closed that I heard it. It started so quietly and sounded like a buzz, as if a swarm of bees were approaching my location. It grew steadily louder and I began casting my eyes around looking for the sound.

  My
eyes saw it, but the idea was so strange that it took me a moment to realize what I was looking at.

  A small plane was flying low and along the trail that I had been etching across the fields of ice and snow. It came in low, roaring louder as it approached. Instead of wheels, the landing gear consisted of skis. It was a clever design that would work well to land on the unsure ground, and one I had seen only once before.

  The plane was the same plane that had been left disassembled in its respective crates at the campsite near shore. It was the plane that I had originally planned on using for getting to the terrible city.

  And it was coming lower, intending a landing just behind me. I didn’t know what to think. Either Sebastian and his men had survived, or the Nazis from the submarine come ashore and decided to use the supplies they found to chase down their companions.

  The plane bounced twice on the ice about a mile behind me. The skis kept it from sinking into the white, but the plane would require a long runway to make up its lack of brakes. The dogs immediately laid down, and I grew concerned that if the plane was aimed at me I wouldn’t be able to get them moved out of the way in time.

  As the plane grew closer, I realized the dogs and my sled were safe. The plane came up on my left and it slid by faster than I could get a look at who was inside, but slow enough to come to a stop only a few hundred yards in front of me. I hollered at the dogs and shook the reins to get them standing. They resisted because of how tired the already were but were up within moments.

  I gripped my pistol, pulling it from my coat as the dogs raced toward the landed aircraft.

  Pulling on the reins, I slowed the dogs down and jumped off the sled, letting the dogs and it come to a rest on their own. I ran as quickly as my winter-wear would let me directly for the co-pilot door. The door flew open in my grip and I shoved my pistol in, taking aim at the pilot.

  Sebastian grinned at me with his hands in the air. “Need a lift?”

  He was the only person in the plane, so I put the gun away. “How the hell did you get here?” I asked.

  Sebastian lowered his hands. “Between your warning and the blazing fire you left on the shore, most of us survived the attack on the Arkatonic,” he frowned. “We began taking stock and as soon as I found the plane, I knew what I had to do.” He waved at the sled and dogs out in front of the plane. “They won’t get you there with enough time to be any good.” Sebastian slapped his hands down on the plane. “This will.”

  Elation swept through me. I had been in such a rush to go after the Germans that I hadn’t even thought about taking the time to piece the plane together. In all fairness, I probably couldn’t have done it by myself, and I was grateful for the Innsmouth folk that have managed to piece together.

  I frowned. “What about the dogs?”

  “We can bring them with us or leave them behind.” Sebastian didn’t look very happy. “Either way, Andrew, they’ll probably freeze to death.”

  He was right. Even if took the dogs with us, they would freeze in the plane once we left them to take on the city. Logically, I should leave them to fend for themselves as long as they could, but those dogs had been nothing but faithful during my day and a half trip. I owed them better.

  Once the dogs were loaded into and around the back two seats of our little four-person plane, I climbed into the copilot seat. Sebastian was petting some of the dogs. Once I was in and secure he turned to me.

  “We don’t need to catch the Nazis, just get to the city.” He pointed out the window. “Is it that way?” Sebastian was pointing the way that I had been heading.

  I pulled out the papers regarding the original Dyer expedition and scanned them over. “Yes. That mountain in the distance is one of the outer walls to Dyer’s city. The whole range hides the city...protects it. Once we get over those mountains,” I mimed Sebastian’s pointing out the window. “Let’s get this over with.”

  The plane roared to life, and within minutes the dogs and I leaving the sled far behind as we approached what I hoped would be the final leg of our journey.

  Chapter 9: The Mountains

  "We'll do a flyby," Sebastian was shouting over the roar of the wind and the tiny plane's engine. "I'll take the plane around the city to find a place to... land."

  Sebastian sounded unsure of the word "land," and I didn't blame him. No modern day cities had airfields, why would an ancient alien city be any different in that regard? That being said, it sounded as if there was something else hidden behind his struggling with the word.

  "What's wrong?" I asked him.

  Sebastian's smile was weak as he explained. "Andrew, I might be considered the failed half-breed of the family, but my people only know the sea." He shrugged, tightening his grip on the yoke as he turbulence bounced the plane. "Flying has been surprisingly easy, but I have never flown or landed before today."

  I had suspected as much with how tightly he had been gripping the yoke for the entire flight.

  "Have you," Sebastian asked me slowly, "ever landed a plane before?"

  I laughed, figuring I was damned anyway, I might as well laugh at the universe. "No." I forced a straight look onto my face and ignored the husky trying to lick my face. "I have all the faith in the world in your ability to bring this plane down."

  Sebastian caught my words and returned my smile. "As do I," he laughed.

  "So," I asked, "what was your incentive to use the plane?"

  Sebastian shrugged in the tight cockpit. "It was either save you with the plane or let you freeze to death."

  I nodded, "A crash is quicker, I'll give you that."

  The mountains rose in front of us, filling most of the view. They were unlike other mountains that I had been to in that they were taller, sharper, and completely covered in white, instead of just capped. Some of them had black-as-night sides leading to the white-capped mountains.

  Maybe it was the reasoning behind us being there, or maybe it was just my imagination, but those black scrapings on the sides of those mountains looked as if they had been created by beings much larger than our little plane.

  My nerves were already worn, so it didn't really affect me aside from the casual observation. I filed it away in the back of my mind, hoping that I wouldn't have to fight something large enough to peel snow from the sides of mountains.

  Within minutes the mountains were taking up the entire view in front of us. As we crested the short valley between two of the peaks, Sebastian tilted the plane and put the city that we were looking for directly in my field of view.

  The mountains formed a perfect bowl shape, as if something had crashed into the Earth, creating a crater that froze into the shape of the mountains. In the center of the crater rested what I could only describe as the city that we were looking for. The sun seemed to be non-existent in the basin of the crater, but enough residual light touched the inside walls of the bowl to make out the city.

  It existed on multiple planes of reality. Which is a lazy way of explaining what it was that I was looking at. The dark city was protruding from angles that didn't exist in our reality. What I was looking at wasn't entirely new to me. I had seen similar structures any time that I had crossed into the reality next to ours.

  Any time that I had crossed into the veil.

  This wasn't the same as the Blasted Heath, though. Things weren't pressing against the veil to imprint on our reality. Something had moved this entire city into our reality from another. The creatures who had moved here had brought a piece of their home with them.

  The city was too large for the basin that it rested in. It only made sense in that I hadn't expected it to make any sort of sense. The geometry of the place was like everything else in the void and consisted of angles and dimensions that didn't exist in our reality. A mind less accustomed to the other realities would shatter under the pressures that such a sight would put on it.

  The ridiculously unnatural angles of the city gave way to shapes and patterns that also made sense when I studied them. I could
make out spires and what I assumed to be buildings. Between them stretched pathways that were obviously roads.

  The buildings themselves seemed honeycombed with holes in place of where I thought should be windows or some sort of viewing ports.

  Over all of the foreign and incredibly familiar features that I recognized, the thing that stood out the most was how pristine the city was. The stone had no signs of wear or decay, even though it had been almost two decades since William had been there last and thousands of years since it had been supposedly abandoned. If the stone that the city had been constructed from had come from our planet, then I would have assumed it to be obsidian by how polished it was. Unfortunately, I was an archaeologist, among other things, and I knew of the hydration used in recognizing the age of obsidian and if this city was designed from the black volcanic glass, then it was recently pulled from the largest pit of obsidian in existence.

  Hydration is the whitening of the edges of obsidian as it absorbs water over time. The buildings were completely black, showing none of the edging that should have come with age. If they were as old as I knew them to be, they were either not made of obsidian, or they were held in some sort of unaltered state of time.

  How could I explain to Sebastian what I was seeing? It was foreign in idea and scope to anything that I had ever seen. Sebastian was even further from having any note of comparison than I was. How could I show him what I was seeing?

  I opted against it, realizing that Sebastian would see it soon enough, and I wasn't expecting his mind to be capable of handling it.

  "Keep circling," I managed. "We need to locate a place to attempt a landing."

  Sebastian didn't like whatever shakiness or fear he might have heard in my voice. Maybe he heard the edges of insanity creeping back into my mind. I could feel the crawling oil-like feeling as it attempted to fill the void left by Olivia's leaving. I shook my head and tore my eyes away from the mesmerizing and alien sight.

  My eyes closed tightly and my mind returning to its more sane state, the plane jostled up and down in the currents of air coming up from the basin. The jerking of the plane reminded me of my recently wounded shoulder that I had previously been doing everything in my power to forget. I seized it instead of ignoring it, allowing it to fill the places that the oily insanity had previously attempted to fill.