The discussion moved on to examining the fact that some of the town's people were downright hostile, and some of them were disturbingly and inappropriately intimate. Ian had revealed to the group that the two men who had accosted him seemed uncertain about whether they should eat him, or fuck him.
Everyone agreed that the changes in the people were the definition of insanity, not to mention sheer weirdness. Garret eyed Crawford surreptitiously as he told the group about the strange grafting process of the octopus bodies onto the necks of the headless murder victims. He admitted that he didn't see any reason to withhold that information, given the current situation.
"It doesn't matter," Crawford repeated. "We will catch the killer in no time. When we do, the world will be what it is supposed to be."
"We should just treat this case like any other case," Garret said. "Use a little reason, and do a lot of documenting, and it will eventually get solved."
Garret felt that the message that Crawford was trying to pass to the group was unrealistic in the extreme. He did not want to discourage folks about the prospects of getting all of this behind them, but he doubted that the resolution would be as simple as Crawford was implying.
Crawford got up and headed for the restroom, after telling the group much more about his bodily functions than anybody wanted to know. Ian took the opportunity to take Crawford's empty seat beside Garret so that he could whisper to him.
"Garret, Crawford is lying about something," Ian whispered. "Don't trust him! He is not what he seems."
"You do not need to worry about that," Garret answered. "I do not trust him, or anyone else for that matter. I don't really need to trust him to work with him, but I will keep an eye on him."
Ian returned to his seat, just in time to occupy his original position before Crawford returned from the restroom. Crawford grinned like a man without a care in the world as he reassumed his seat. Ian trusted that grin about as much as he would trust the smile of a hungry crocodile.
Freya was sitting beside Ian at this point, and she reached over and squeezed his arm. "I am kind of freaked about everything that is happening lately," she said. "I am glad that you are around. I don't know what I would do if you weren't here."
"Don't worry," he replied. "You couldn't get rid of me now if you tried. It will all blow over soon. You'll see."
The group droned on about various subjects, most of which were variants of "What the hell is going on?" After about an hour, the time was just after nine PM, and the background conversation was acting like a background chant, sending him into a light trance state. His tiredness was contributing to his abstract state, and at some point, he found himself descending in a mental freefall into a deep meditative state.
Ian suddenly knew that another family murder was taking place right now, and he saw them arranged in their death poses a few moments in the future. He found himself speaking, but he did not understand the words he spoke.
"Ipse venit," he was compelled to say. "Ipse venit!"
Oscar recognized that Ian was speaking in Latin, from a short course in the language that he had taken in college.
"He is saying that 'He is coming,'" Oscar said. "I am going to ask him who is coming."
"Qui venturus?" he asked. "Qui venturus?"
"Eum!"
"When I asked him who is coming, he said Him," Oscar explained. "I don't know why he picked just now to speak in Latin, but I think he is talking about the person behind the murders."
The Latin conversation ended at this point when Ian seemed to fold up and slide to the floor. He did not exactly look unconscious, but he was definitely out of it, and Freya instantly took charge of the situation, requesting that Garret drive him to the hospital so that they could check him out.
On the way out of the door, Ian seemed to come out of his funk a little bit, but Freya would hear none of it when he appeared to protest the idea of going to the doctor. Garret half supported him on the way to the car and drove him to the nearby hospital. Freya closed up the bar and followed them to the hospital.
Freya fully intended to go home with Ian tonight, but Ian's collapse had put an end to that plan for this evening. She was patient. She was going to claim that man sooner or later!
5 the hospital
April 9, 2019, 10:30 PM Tuesday
Agent Garret navigated the half-dark streets of the town in the direction of the hospital. He noticed that there were a number of people out tonight, and none of them seemed to be on legitimate missions that should take them out into the night.
He swerved to avoid a bicyclist who was oblivious to the car, and he carefully drove around the man lying in the middle of the road. He loosened his semi-auto in its holster when he saw the large group of individuals standing at the corner of Lester and Holmes, under the streetlight. He passed them without incident, but not before he saw that they were trapping cats for some mysterious reason that was not evident.
He pulled into the entrance circle of the Emergency room, with Freya right behind him. She ran in the doors, and a moment later, she came out with a wheelchair.
As they loaded Ian into the wheelchair, Garret received a call to let him know that there was a new crime scene. Garret made his apologies to Freya and pulled out of the entry circle on the way to the murder scene.
Freya pushed Ian's wheelchair into the emergency room and found a bed for him with the aid of a nurse. After a half hour wait, an Intern checked his vitals and examined him. He did not find a definite diagnosis, but he said that Ian should remain in the hospital for overnight observation.
Garret met Detective Crawford at the new murder scene. It was only about five blocks away from the bar, and Garret concluded that the crimes were accomplished with minimal sounds, since this area of town was relatively densely populated, and someone should have heard any sounds of distress that were made.
The murders numbered four at this residence. The family had been watching television, and they died in front of the tv. The dog also suffered death at the hands of the culprits, and it had been killed, skinned, and left hanging on the wall of the living room.
Officer Craton was on the scene, and he came up to Agent Garret to brief him on what they knew about the case. Crawford drew near to listen in on the brief.
"The family of victims was the Canyons," said Officer Craton. "The father was Alex, age 51, the mother was Sarah, age 38, the son was Ted, age 11, and finally, the daughter was Jessica, age 13. Four victims, all beheaded, with the grafted octopuses in place of heads, and the strange fungi everywhere."
"Sounds like the killers are running out of ideas," Crawford said sarcastically.
Garret noticed that Crawford was increasingly becoming flippant about the cases, and it just didn't seem as though he was likely to contribute significantly to solving them. As for Garret, he was almost awed by the accuracy of the visions reported by Ian about this case, before it had even happened!
There was a minor disturbance at the door, and Garret was momentarily blinded by a flashbulb, as one of the six reporters who had intruded attempted to get as much of the photographic part of the story as they could, before being evicted from the crime scene. All of the reporters had cameras, and all of them were clicking at the crime scene as fast as their cameras could go.
Officer Craton and a large Uniform named Bill intercepted the reporters. The two cops and the reporters engaged in a short scuffle, and in a strange twist of fate, all of the reporter's cameras 'accidentally' was destroyed when cops mistakenly stepped on them.
After the scuffle, the officer named Bill actually reached around Three of the reporters in a large bear hug, and he used their bodies to push the remaining three out of the door. He then released the other three into the wild and slammed the door in their faces.
6 the third case
April 9, 2019, 11:30 PM Tuesday
Police Chief Smite pulled up to the crime scene and crossed the yellow tape in order to enter the residence. He approached Garret with an indesc
ribable expression on his face. Garret concluded that he was showing some mixture of shock, bewilderment, and disbelief.
"Does it look like the same persons committed these murders as the last?" Smite asked. "The average serial killer goes weeks between kills. What could possibly motivate such frequent kills?"
"They seem to be continuing a ritual process," Garret replied. "I would guess that they are following the requirements of that ritual, which apparently requires a higher body count than usual for these things."
"These monsters must be absolutely crazy," Smite said. "I cannot figure out why anyone would do these things, ritual or not."
"The crime scenes almost remind me of a sort of countdown clock," Garret admitted. "The interval between the murders is getting shorter with each offense if you can trust a pattern with only three points to it. At this rate, the next murders should be after slightly more than one day, and after that, it will be a matter of hours between murders."
Officer Craton came up to the Chief and the Agent and began to inform them about the latest findings on the case. He had completed a liaison with the Forensic Team, and there were a number of odd and amazing facts to reveal. First on the agenda was to inform his superiors on case related activities.
"We have dogs trying to pick up the trails of the perps in a wide perimeter around this house," Craton began. "I doubt that they will find anything, though. Usually, they would get a trail in the first few moments they are sniffing. I suspect that the murderers either got picked up or actually drove away from the scene of the crime."
Garret looked at Smite. "I suggest that you lock down this town, and impose an early curfew," he said. "That should make the culprit stand out when they are out, and make any movement against curfew immediately suspicious."
"See to it," Smite ordered Craton, "After you give us your report, of course."
"We have all the same MO as in the previous crimes," Craton said. "Same octopus replacements for the heads, same fungus present, same beheading process, their heads missing as usual."
"The primary difference in the crimes is the progression of the 'changes' in the victims," Craton continued. "The fungus is present in a higher density than before, and it seems to be instrumental in the weird process of octopi being attached to the human bodies."
"The fungus is getting more aggressive with every crime," Craton noted. "It acts like flesh-eating bacteria if it makes contact with any living matter, but it seems to actively promote the grafting process in the victims. In addition, these victims are not exhibiting the usual rigor mortis and lividity or blood pooling in the corpses. It is almost like they are not quite dead."
"Well, it is getting late in the day for me," Garret said. "I think that I will go to the motel and catch a nap before I have to do some crap about this situation." He looked around the scene to see if he forgot anything.
"Smite, I strongly suggest that you have these bodies cremated as soon as Forensics gets done with them," Garret finished. "That fungus is some nasty shit, and I wouldn't be surprised if these bodies get up and walk around if we do not dispose of them."
The Chief looked as though he wasn't sure if that last comment was a joke or not, but he reached a decision about the suggestion. "Good point," He said. "I will see to it."
Garret strolled out of the house and stuffed his body into the car for the short trip to the motel. He thought that it was fortunate that this was such a small town that traveling to any part of it from any other part was always a short distance.
As he pulled into the motel parking lot and levered himself out of the vehicle, he ruefully thought that there was a time when he was not saddled with the few extra pounds that made maneuvering himself out of the vehicle difficult.
There was a time when he would have bounced in or out of the car without effort. There was also a time when the Agency was new to him, and he felt like a big deal until real life hit him. Oh, well, time stops for no man, and all that bull.
Garret spent about half an hour reviewing the case notes. His system finally quieted down enough for sleep to be possible. It sounded like a good idea, even if the Dream would come to depress him in the night, just as it had every night for the last few nights.
7 the realization
April 10, 2019, Wednesday 10 AM
I am walking down an earthen path rimmed in that sort of plants that grow in the shade of the sun-hungry trees that I see above me. As I turn a curve in the trail, I see a tall man in leather armor, reclining against the trunk of one of the largest trees I had yet seen.
As I approach the man, I see that he is missing his right hand. He seems entirely human, and yet more than human. I know this man to be one of the gods, but it is only a knowing.
I stand quietly in front of the man, and he speaks to me. "I am Tyr of the Aesir, defender of the nine realms, and Walker in shadows. The Norns did plead with me that I come to you, to let you know what the future holds."
"I have glimpsed a little of what the future holds," I say. "I am filled with foreboding and dire dread when I think of what is to come."
"You should be afraid of what comes," Tyr says. "It is one of many Shadows of that which the gods did fight far away from here. If there are Beings of Order, there must also be Beings of Chaos, and one such Being attempts to enter your world."
"How can we defeat this thing," I ask. "Are there weapons that will defeat it, or allies that can help us fight this creature?"
"There are no weapons that can be used to fight this Entity of Chaos," Tyr tells me. "It lives in another universe, so you cannot reach it with any weapon. We did block another such Entity using a Sigil of Worlds, but that is beyond you, and it took a major gathering of the powers to create the Sigil which is not possible now."
"So what can we do?" I ask of the godling.
"This Entity seeks to open a gateway into your universe, so that it may enter. To open the way, it needs the belief of those in your world to tear the veil between the universes. If the Entity enters your world, the laws of your universe will change to chaos, and all hope will be lost."
"How are we to stop the believers?" I ask. "How do we stop them from bringing the thing?"
"You cannot convince them. You must destroy them. They are not human any longer, and there is nothing in them to save."
"I do not know if we can do that," I say. "Is there any other way?"
"No. Destroy them, or you will surely be destroyed. Do not stay your hand, or you will doom all those you love."
As he says this, there is a blur of speed, and it is as though I am removed back to whence I came.
Ian opened his eyes, and he remembered the dream as though he had just lived it, which he suspected he had done. He knew the dream to be a true seeing, and what was told in it was the Truth.
He heard glad greeting type noises, and he focused on the room outside of his head. The first thing he noticed was a fluids stand with a saline bag hanging, and the second thing was his friends.
Freya was sitting beside his bed, and Jonny and Oscar were across the room, reclining in that strange sort of hybrid easy chair that does not recline, has no footstool, and is not really that comfortable. They noticed that he was awake at about the same time that he became aware that they were present.
"Ian, you're awake!" Freya cried. "You had me worried for a while."
"Hey, sleepyhead," Jonny quipped. "I think you screwed up the 'get out of stuff by feigning unconscious' scam. You are supposed to wait for a situation where you actually benefit from pretending to be out of it."
"Do you have any clue what you were doing, and why, before you passed out," Oscar asked. "Jonny was inconsolable. He thought that he would have to develop a different man-crush."
Ian looked at Freya fondly. "Freya is a welcome sight," he said. "I guess you two are not too annoying also. Just try not to say stuff."
The CNA came into the room and did the usual vitals check, and ruffled the saline bag as though she was going to actually do something
, before wandering out the room to give Garret a call, as he requested when Ian woke up. The conversation between the friends continued for another fifteen minutes until Garret appeared.
"What the hell are you two doing here?" Garret demanded of the two men. "Don't you have jobs or something?"
"My boss said that he was not going to open the dealership today because he thinks the people might get weird," Jonny admitted. "I guess that the chance of damage outweighs the potential profits."
"As for me," Oscar chimed in, "I have a flexible schedule. Also, all of the tests I have run lately have come out strange, so they are not really useful."
"You will have to explain that one to me," Garret said. "In what way are the results 'strange', and why are they strange?"
"I don't know why they are strange," Oscar admitted. "The results suggest that the laws of physics and chemistry are now different at different times, and there doesn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to the changes in the rules. The results are now frequently outside of any possible ranges so that the content of one component of an analyzed substance shows as being greater than the total content of the entire sample, things like that."
"Weird," Garret admitted. "Ian, any idea what happened to you last night?"
"If you are referring to when I passed out," Ian said, "I have no idea. I don't remember anything about it. I did have an informative dream afterward, however."
"What did you dream about?" Freya asked.
"I dreamed I met a one-handed man named Tyr, and he told me about the thing that is behind all this," Ian said. "He stated that there are no weapons that we can get that will stop it. The only defense is to find the people that want it to come here, and eliminate them."
"That sounds a bit extreme," Garret argued. "If 'eliminate' means kill, why not just arrest them?"
Beyond The Chaos Gate: Lovecraftian Horror Page 4