Horrors Unknown

by Sam Moskowitz (ed)

  “That is they?”

  “That is they. Do you feel the evil?”

  “No,” I answered, “I do not feel the evil now.” And it was difficult, señor, to feel any evil, here, in the sun, high on the beautiful mountain, near to God. “Do they bring it?”

  “Yes, they bring it. You shall feel it again, and you shall see it,” he said. “As for me, I hear it; I hear my woman and my sister crying. But we may rest; we have plenty of time to meet the evil when it comes, and to uncover its face.”

  We rested here a little time, until the Picuris ants had disappeared in the foothills; they had traveled more slowly than we, because of the old persons and the women, and also to search the country for the enemy Apaches. When the sun was about an hour lower my brother arose.

  “We shall go,” he said. “It will not be good to arrive at the thunder-devil bird place in the dark.”

  Now we climbed again. We climbed to the very top of the mountain, where the trees were shorter and the rocks larger. The sun had set for the world below, but it was still bright up here, when my brother stopped.

  “We are here,” he whispered.

  “At the thunder-devil bird place?”

  “Yes, brother.”

  As soon as the blood cleared out of my eyes, for we had hurried fast, I began to believe that there might be something in the thunder-devil bird business after all. It was a devil place, sure enough: a black lake, not large, señor, sunk into black rock, walling it all about except at the end where we lay. The walls rose forty and fifty feet high, in almost a circle, and hollowed with caves; and at the farther end the mountaintop showed, black and gray and snow-patched, in the sun.

  The sun shone on it, señor, but not on the little lake, so that the water was like thin tar, and seemed to have no bottom. Back of us were the trees that we had left; in front of us there were no trees, only the lake, ten feet below us, and beyond the lake, the walls, pitted like spoiled wild honeycomb. We could hear not a sound: the water seemed to have no ripples and no voice; the place had no breeze, no life; the sun had no power. It was a place very black, very dead, and very evil.

  At our end the lake narrowed, with a tongue that licked silently into a piece of low shore. The shore was lowest almost opposite us, and ran around this open end from cliffs to cliffs. There were white things scattered on the low shore, and splashes of white upon the cliff faces, and in the air a smell of death—a strange, bad smell, very disagreeable.

  “Do you feel anything now, brother?” Antonio asked me, whispering.

  “I feel an evil, but you say that our evil is coming,” I whispered back.

  “You feel the evil that has been done here for the thunder-devil.”

  “I smell it,” I said. “Do I smell it?”

  “You smell it. Listen, now. I will tell you. You see that hole, in the wall across the lake and up?”

  “Which hole? There are many.”

  “The large hole, with a shelf in front of it, and a white streak staining the wall face below it.”

  “I see it.”

  “That is the house of the thunder-devil bird. He lives inside.”

  “You know?”

  “I know. I have seen him on the shelf. The white stain is his droppings. The stain is broader than it looks to be from here, and the hole is larger than any room at the pueblo. And he himself is greater in size than a buffalo.”

  “What is his kind?” I asked.

  “I cannot tell you. You shall see him for yourself, I think; but I have said that he is part bird and part snake. When he plunges into the lake the water rises and the thunder sounds. He can make the lake overflow down the mountain, the priests say, and there is water enough to cover all the world. So we feed him, that he may not have to hunt.”

  “Does he always stay here, then?”

  “Yes, he stays here while he is content.”

  “Can he fly?”

  “His wings are short, but he can fly on the thunder. The priests have seen him in the clouds. He likes the water best; and some day he may ride the water, when it overflows to drown the world. He does not see well except in blackness. That is why the lake is black, and the rocks are black, to make the nights black.”

  “And those other white things. What are they?”

  “They are his droppings, and the bones of things that he has eaten. Sometimes he comes to the shore, at night, to eat what he finds. He can cling to the walls like a bat, too, with his wings.”

  “Now tell me of the evil that threatens us, my brother,” I besought.

  “No, not yet. You will see. We are here. Let us stay where we are till morning, and Those Above will guard us. I got a good sign when I prayed.”

  The rocks between which we lay were taller than we. They, and the other rocks, were like rocks that had been melted black in a hot fire. We ate a little dried meat. Now the sun was just touching the mountaintop, before he sank entirely. To the world below he had been sunk some time. The lake was growing blacker, and the blackness was rising up the walls, and we could scarcely see the hole in which the thunder-devil lived. Night gathered swiftly here, señor, so that soon we two were lying all in the blackness, and even the mountaintop had been swallowed. The sense of evil was very strong. I had little doubt, now, but that it was the place of some devil.

  A change of air came blowing toward us from up the lake, and with it that smell. Yes, señor, the breeze carried a stench like the stench of a den of rattlesnakes, truly a devil stench and a death stench, enough to make a man sicken and fear. My brother and I lay pressed close for warmth and company, but we did not speak. It seemed to me that something was about to happen, in the stench and the stillness.

  Then we heard a sound, breaking the night in two. It was a sound that I cannot describe—a harsh sound, harsher than the sound of locked wagon-wheels grating over rocks. That is the only way I can tell you of it, but it was a sound terrible, made by a voice, in the darkness.

  I felt my brother tremble.

  “The thunder-devil is out,” he whispered. “That is he. Listen.”

  We listened, and smelled the evil stench. Again the thunder-devil called, with his loud croak; and up the lake, toward where he lived, we heard a scratching in the blackness. That brought out the sweat, señor, cold and sticky. My brother muttered, praying to his Those Above.

  “Try your medicine,” he said, to me. “But only a little of it. Do not throw it away. We shall need it in the morning.”

  “In the name of God and the Most Holy Virgin, stay where you are, devil,” I cried.

  Whether the words reached him I did not know; but we heard nothing more, then.

  “He is hungry, and waiting,” my brother whispered. “I think we are safe, for tomorrow he will be fed, and he knows. It is the time. Twice a year, on thunder-devil bird day, he is fed full. It lasts him a long time; his throat is small, and when he is full, he sleeps. He is never allowed to get too hungry.”

  We lay there. The stars were very bright above, but the darkness around was very thick, and through our blankets the night was very cold and the rocks hard. The stench continued. Once again we heard the thunder-devil call, and he rattled his claws; he was no nearer, though, and seeing that he kept his distance we grew less afraid.

  “He is waiting for tomorrow,” my brother said.

  “Then the people from the pueblo come?”

  “At sunrise. And I look to you to shrivel the thunder-devil bird. That is the only way to kill the evil that they bring.”

  “The evil that threatens and makes our women cry?”

  “So I have said. It is in the priests’ hands, not far. What we have smelt and heard is only a sign.”

  Well, the night seemed long, señor, while we lay and tried not to shiver, and the stars slowly passed. I think that we slept a little; but when the darkness paled I was awake, and so was he. Pretty soon we sat up, in our blankets; we ate a few mouthfuls of our meat, and watched the mountaintop brighten, until the time when we might see t
he thunder-devil bird hole. Thanks to God, the day had arrived and we were safe; for when the gray had crept down into the place, we saw nothing but the cliffs arid the lake. The thunder-devil bird cave looked empty, all the lake was quiet; he had gone inside his house, away from the day.

  The sunshine struck the mountaintop first, and began to flow downward. Then my brother bade:

  “Listen!”

  I listened, and I heard a singing in the distance. It was the thunder-devil chant. The singing grew louder, and I knew that the pueblo people were coming. My brother sat straighter and threw off his blanket.

  “They are coming, and the evil,” he said. “Let us be ready to face the evil and the thunder-devil with your medicine. Are you strong?”

  “With the help of God I am strong,” said I. “I want to know what that evil is.”

  “You shall know,” he answered. “And very soon. And while you work your medicine I will stand by you, for it is an evil that we share, and perhaps Those Above will help us also.”

  The singing drew nearer, from beyond the end of the lake. And we looked, and just as the sunshine reached us, there they came, into the open, out of the trees, with their priests leading, bearing a canopy, señor. As a procession they came, singing the thunder-devil chant—and in the name of God, señor, that was a sight; for every man and woman was without clothing, as naked as when born.

  This was evil enough. I had seen naked Indians before, but never so many at once. However, it was a custom, and not wrong in the sight of their gods, Those Above.

  “Shall we wait?” I asked.

  “Wait,” he said. “You shall see; there will be more for you.”

  “What is under the canopy?”

  “The evil.” And the voice of my brother was so fierce that I feared.

  Then I heard the sound of the night. The chanting filled all the place, and the sound had answered, harsh and grating and glad—the call from the thunder-devil. It made me gaze quickly; and I saw him. He was coming out of his hole, into the sunshine, for the hole faced the east. Santo Dios, señor, you may not wish to believe, but he it was, the thunder-devil bird. (I heard the squatted Antonio breathing quickly, all intent, and I felt the truth of the earnest old señor.) A devil indeed, as he emerged, part bird, part snake, just as I had been told. First there came his bird bill and snake head, with round, staring eyes; then his long, scaly snake neck, as long as my body, but thin and round; then his scaly bird body, on short legs with clawed feet. A body as large as that of a cow, señor, having no tail, and ending suddenly. He called again, opening his mouth, which had teeth; and he flapped his wings; short wings; but he did not fly. He sat there, holding fast on the edge of his shelf, weaving his neck and answering the people, with his eyes (as large as saucers, señor) open to the sun. They had no lids, señor; no lids any more than the eyes of a snake; and whether he could see or not, quien sabe? But it was terrible to witness him gazing into the sun.

  And such a stench from his body and his breath! The stench of the night, only worse. Truly an evil stench.

  “Santisima! Guard us!” I cried.

  “He hears. He is ready,” my brother said in a strange voice. “Look! They are making ready, too, and bringing what you are here to see. Now you shall know the evil thing that is upon us.”

  When the thunder-devil bird had answered, the people had answered back, shouting; they were singing the chant and dancing like mad, at the end of the lake almost across from us—dancing all except the priests and two who were women. But the two women were flat upon their faces, and the priests were taking out what had been carried under the canopy. Now they held the things up; held them up toward the thunder-devil bird, señor; but no evil things, only two naked little babies, which moved not, as if asleep.

  Nombre de Dios! I heard my brother speaking fast.

  “Brother! It is the offering to the thunder-devil bird. Your nino and my niho: Twice a year two babies to the thunder-devil bird. Now you know why the women cry, and what the evil is that has come upon us. Those Above have permitted it, because the people have permitted it, and fear is great and the priests strong. In a moment they will throw the nihos where the thunder-devil will smell them, out in the water; and they will go. Quick! If your medicine is stronger, shrivel the thunder-devil.”

  Then I think I turned a little crazy, señor, with all my blood bursting my head and blinding me. I cared nothing for the thunder-devil; I wished only to save those babies from the water. I stood up, and shouted, and not waiting I leaped straight out, down into the lake. Waist deep it happened to be, at this place, and I held my gun high and, shouting, I plowed across. Right behind me there came my brother, Antonio, who was this Antonio’s father—the father of the little Antonio in the arms of a priest. Yes; this Antonio and my own niho were to be offered to the thunder-devil bird.

  The people saw us, and they heard us; and the priests knew.

  “Kill, kill!” they cried. “A stranger is in the thunder-devil bird place. He shall die, and he who brought him. It is more food for the thunder-devil.”

  We were in the water and they all were on the shore. The men shouted together; they ran; they picked up rocks, and the thunder-devil was squawking and stenching; but I saw my niho, and I saw my wife lifting her face, and I called.

  “Friends! You are doing me an evil thing. That is my baby and that is my brother’s baby. Shame on you! I am here. You know me. I have lived with you. Be careful now, or some of you shall go to feed the thunder-devil.”

  “Kill, kill!” the priests ordered; and the rocks began to fly.

  “Quick, with your medicine! Shrivel them all except yours and mine,” Antonio begged, breathing hard beside me.

  “Wait!” I shouted again. “Let us talk.”

  “No. The time has come,” said the chief priest. And they raised the little babies, to throw them; but I called, and they saw my gun pointed at them. You remember that I had taken my gun, thanks to God, señor.

  “Stop! Listen, or one of you priests shall die and be thunder-devil meat,” I warned.

  That halted them indeed. The priests had no power against good powder and lead.

  “What do you want?” they asked.

  “I want the babies. Leave them safe, and go.”

  “No. That is impossible. The thunder-devil bird has been promised. You see him. He is waiting. It is commanded by Those Above, or we all shall die by the thunder.”

  “I will shrivel the thunder-devil, then,” I said. “He shall live no longer.”

  At that, señor, the women cried out. Dios, how they cried out! “He will shrivel the thunder-devil! Our brother says he will shrivel the thunder-devil!”

  “He lies,” the priests shouted. “Who can shrivel the thunder-devil bird? It is a god. It will live forever. Kill him before the thunder-devil burns us up for listening to the lie. Kill him, and that other who stands beside him, so we can make the sacrifice and go.”

  But the women cried louder:

  “No, no. Let him try. We hate the thunder-devil that takes our babies. It is time that he should die, or else we would die.”

  And señor, they ran forward, themselves, and they fought back the men, on the shore, who were stoning us. Yes, it was wonderful to see the women, even the old ones, fighting back the men—and all clothesless, but not ashamed, like animals. Some of the men, too, were shouting for us; and others were angry, the same as the priests.

  “Shrivel him quick,” spoke Antonio, to me, “if you can; for time is short. I will protect you.” And now he also shouted, bending his bow at the priests, “Our brother can do it. I say so. Stand where you are, priests. We are here to destroy the thunder-devil or die.”

  The thunder-devil had been squawking, as I have said, señor; but now a greater shout yet arose, making me look. Dios, he had grown impatient; he had lowered his snake neck, stretching it down from his shelf; and, caramba, he was about to plunge!

  “Save us! Save us!” the people cried. “He is coming.” And th
e women called: “Shrivel him, brother!” And the men called: “Give him the meat!”

  “Meat for the thunder-devil bird,” shouted the priests. “Meat he shall have. Back from the shore!”

  Todos los santos! The lake was no place for the thunder-devil bird and us, at the same time. I not being a padre, I doubted if any of my words would travel fast enough through that hubbub to catch him; something more certain must be done; and in the instant, while he teetered, I raised my gun—

  “Si, si” the squatting Antonio uttered. His black eyes blazed. “El escopeta!” Evidently temporal weapons appealed to him more than spiritual. He was war captain.

  The old señor paused, to summon: “Marfa! Here! Bring the gun.”

  The wrinkled Maria appeared at once, running out with a gun. An ancient, battered fusil it was, its lock tied fast with flinty rawhide. The old señor eagerly seized it.

  “This very gun I raised. It is a poor piece, señor, but it was my best; and a good gun, in those days. I raised it—so.” He aimed, strong again with youth . . .

  I called upon all the saints to help the bullet through the thunder-devil’s coat of mail, and I fired—Bang!” The imaginary recoil drove him back into his chair. “It was that, or nothing. The priests howled; but the thunder-devil, he howled too. Mira! See him! By the will of God the ball had gone home into him. He had fallen over, he flopped—”

  “Viva! Muy bien!" our Antonio panted.

  “Thanks to God!” old Maria exclaimed.“’Stabueno, bueno!”

  “Hurrah!” I encouraged.

  He flopped about, screaming and scattering blood and stench so that you could scarcely see the cave. Over the edge of the shelf he slipped; there he hung, on the face of the cliff, with one wing hooked like a bat’s into the rock. Like a bat’s it was, señor, leathery, and longer than I had thought. He extended from the shelf clear to the water, señor, and his blood hissed when it struck. Then his strength failed him; he let go; he landed with a great splash, he disappeared, and all the lake began to boil red with his struggles. Once his neck writhed out. En el nombre, señor, it was time for us to get our legs away. I tell you, in half a minute we were on the shore. That was another scene. The women were dancing and singing—“He has killed the thunder-devil!” they cried. “With his magic bullet he has killed the thunder-devil bird!” The men were staring at the lake; and the priests had their mouths open but nothing to say.