Beyond The Chaos Gate: Lovecraftian Horror

by Quentin Ravensbane

  "I can do that," Garret answered, slightly mollified.

  "The fact is that we have no choice," Ian contributed. "We must resist this thing, or we will die, or become one of those things. It doesn't matter what is behind it, but we have to resist it, at least for ourselves. We may even be instrumental in saving our world from this thing.

  If we do not resist this thing here, it might mean death or mutation here, or everywhere. If we leave the fight, we may be condemning the whole world, or our part of it, to a doom. We do not know if stopping it here will stop it everywhere, but we cannot take the chance. We have to continue fighting."

  "We have to have faith that we can make a difference," Freya agreed. "We don't have a choice."

  The conversation considered for a good hour more, but they agreed that they had no choice but to win or die. There was no other possible choice.

  23 Attacked

  Thursday 18, 2019@ 10:00 PM

  The five friends had spent the last few hours in a low-energy relaxation mode. They suspected that the opportunity for sloth was going to be a very scarce commodity in the near future, so they tried to enjoy this brief respite. A general depression threatened to ruin the restful nature of this time of repose, but they were determined to take the rest while they could.

  Freya glued herself to Ian's side. The couple sensed that time was running short, and the felt desperate to cling to one of the few things left in the world that they needed to keep them sane in a world that was rapidly spinning away from any definition of it as a human world.

  Their need for the constant company of each other, and of the other's, as members of the endangered human species, rolled over the couple, and their companions, as waves of emotions beyond their mental control. There was the need for constant reassurance that they were all still alive, and waves of frantic and animalistic panic that threatened them all with mindless flight from the only sanctuary they had left.

  Even Garret was barely hanging onto his sanity by a thread, but Ian and Freya were hardest hit of all the surviving group members. Out of all of the surviving members of the group, they had the most to lose. The others had nobody left to worry about, but they had a newfound and precious relationship that neither of them could survive losing.

  Ian was feeling a sudden and imminent sense of threat that he could not explain, but he knew that it was a true KNOWING. The need to defend what he treasured was at an intolerable level, but he only knew the need, he didn't have any facts.

  About an hour ago, the electricity had shut off to the house. The water pressure reduced to a trickle shortly after that, and now it was off as well.

  They believed that the outage was a natural result of the neglect to man the structure, and not an attack specifically aimed at them. It was actually a miracle that the power had stayed on as long as it did.

  Luckily, for them, Freya's parents had been members of that strange niche of the population that valued their self-dependency. Former farmers, they combined the best of both the survivalist and the pragmatist communities. They had a backup generator, a water cistern, and plentiful fire and emergency supplies stored in the storage closets and in the garage.

  They had not counted on running out of food in this fecund area of the country, believing (falsely as it turned out) that they could glean or raise any food they needed in this area. If you had a fire, water, or security emergency, however, they had the rudiments covered.

  Ian and Oscar had attempted to raid the vacant neighbor's backyard garden earlier today, only to discover that some unknown rotting disease was at the core of every vegetable and fruit that they had gathered. Nothing that they found growing outside was still edible.

  There was sufficient water in the cistern to last them for weeks with careful rationing, but they would be out of food sometime tomorrow. They had only a brief time beyond the last of the food before they would have to abandon their refuge here, and take their chances that they could survive somewhere out in the world beyond this town.

  The television was on, thanks to the generator's power output. There was only news on the television these days, and it was always about the strange disasters that seemed to abound around the globe.

  This time, the news was about a very odd activity. Around the planet, people were seeing other people that had been dead for days, months, and sometimes years. They checked all of the boxes that said 'ghosts,' in that they could not be touched, under most circumstances.

  The ghosts usually appeared in the presence of their surviving family members, or other people with which they had a previous relationship. They were intent on communicating some kind of urgent warning, as though they feared for the safety of the living people that they cared about.

  There had also been some unusual sightings around the world. A number of people had been seen in numerous sightings, claiming that they were native to places and countries that were not on any map of the earth. The history of world events that they recounted was also different from what their discoverers knew to be true.

  Strange creatures were coming to light in distant locations and some that were simply out of place. Park Rangers in Yellowstone National Park found a Tyrannosaurus Rex and two Velociraptors running loose in the park. There were also some much more alien beasts found, creatures that just did not fit into any biological niche on Earth that anyone could discern.

  Ian turned off the television. Everyone was getting tired, and they all were almost asleep on their feet. They were all in that final stage of preparing to go to their separate bedrooms when a loud crashing sound came from the other side of the front door. At the same time, a long crack appeared in the wood frame of the door.

  Just like that, everyone was awake again. "Arm up," Garret shouted, and the five grabbed their blades and their guns. Everyone had learned their lessons, and the weapons were never out of their reach.

  "Blades and guns only," Garret cautioned. "We can't afford to set our own house on fire." Everyone stood in an uncertain semi-circle, facing the door.

  Another thunderous cracking sound came from the door, and this time, the crack became a break in the door. Half of the door was now supported by the hinges, while the locking side was unsupported, and slowly toppled to the ground. Beyond the door, the group could see a writhing activity, and they prepared themselves for the assault.

  There was a rush from the other side toward the door, and the hinge side was flung open by the creatures beyond. The process of mutation had advanced much further in these things than the previous versions they had seen before.

  There was a mass of whipping tentacle-like limbs, there were huge fang-like teeth, and the sounds that they made caused all who heard them to reel with a sort of mental vertigo on the edge of insanity. The creatures flooded into the room, and the five leveled shotguns and handguns in their direction and the resulting sounds were deafening.

  Several of the creatures went down under the barrage of gunfire, but something about these creatures was different. The impression that Ian got was that part of them was not entirely in the world of bullets and matter, and these parts of them skittered away like ghostly rats when the physical bodies fell.

  There must have been twenty of them that burst through the door, and the five were desperately firing their weapons as fast as they could, trying to kill the things before they came into grappling distance of the humans. Almost they succeeded, but the blades came into play to dispatch the last six of the creatures.

  Just as they were starting to think that they had won the battle, eight of the things flooded out of the kitchen, which they must have entered by way of the kitchen door. All of them made straight for Wilber, who was in a back position on the kitchen side of the skirmish line, and he went down in a tackle that would have made any football team proud.

  The other four all began to hack at the creatures as they held Wilber down, and in a few seconds, the last of the things had been turned into small pieces. They gingerly helped Wilber to his feet, where he lea
ned in an exhausted manner against the back of the sofa and struggled to regain his breath.

  There was something wrong with the way he looked, and it took Ian a second to realize that there was some kind of distortion taking place with his features. His nose, and lips, and the shape of his head seemed subtly wrong, and it struck all of his companions at the same time that he was infected with whatever this thing was that was responsible for changing all of these people into the sort of creatures that had attacked them.

  "I am so sorry," Ian said. "We couldn't get to you in time, Wilber."

  "I knew that I would not live through this thing," Wilber whispered. "I didn't know that it would hurt like this. The voices are so loud that I can barely concentrate." In the minute since he was infected, the changes to his appearance were so rapid that they were easily visible to all of the remaining humans.

  "Nobody touch him, without gloves," Garret ordered. "We can't take any chances of spreading that infection to the rest of us. We need to remove these bodies right now to prevent it from spreading. Guys put on your safety gear, and let's move the bodies and Jonny out into the back yard now."

  Everyone put face masks and gloves on, including Wilber, and they set to work, using the Stretcher to transport each of the bodies outside, and place them on top of a cord of firewood that would be the fuel to dispose of them. Even in his weakened state, Wilber was helpful. Despite his exhaustion, he did his fair share, since he no longer had to worry about infection; he did the most dangerous handling.

  Finally, the attackers were all outside, and the group went to Jonny's room, and removed his body, taking him outside to lay at the apex of the mound of corpses in the back yard. When they had finished the task, the group stood around uncertainly, unsure of what to do about Wilber.

  "Kill me," Wilber begged Garret. "I feel myself changing into one of those things. I would rather be dead."

  Garret stared at Wilber with an unreadable expression. "Do you know what you are asking me to do?" he asked.

  "I am sorry, but I need you to kill me," Wilber repeated. "Will you do that for me?"

  Garret nodded, and before anyone could react to the situation, he drew his 45 and shot Wilber in the head. Wilber fell, and Garret immediately looked around, to make sure that the blood splatter had not contaminated him or any of the other three humans.

  They were all stunned at what had just happened. When Garret ordered Oscar to help him place Wilber on the pile of corpses, it was with a great deal of emotional numbness that Oscar complied with the order. Soon, it was done, and the four of them returned to the house.

  As soon as they had a moment to rest, Garret immediately put all of the others to work to complete the tasks of cleaning the area with bleach and repairing the doors. While Ian and Freya sprayed the Clorox liberally around the areas where the bodies had lain, Oscar and Garret got to work, patching the doors with plywood, and strengthening the locks with an interior bar latch. After about an hour, the tasks were completed.

  They all felt a little better for the work they had done. They knew that the death of Wilber was the kindest and most acceptable solution to his condition, and they had finally had time enough to come to terms with that concept.

  When they had finally settled down with the last pot of coffee available, which they had just brewed, and they all had coffee in their cups, the satellite telephone rang. Garret had kept it on and charged, waiting for word from the General regarding the anticipated air strike. Garret picked it up and made the connection.

  "I am calling to let you know that the strike is scheduled to start in four minutes, and thirty seconds," the General advised. "I hope that you are far enough away from zero. It should be spectacular."

  "We are safe," Garret confirmed. "Thank you, sir. We will enjoy the fireworks. Goodbye."

  At Garret's insistence, the group returned to the yard, to peer expectantly in the direction of the Feeding Grounds for the flash of light, and the rolling thunder that would signify that the Old One was dead. Everyone had a brief chance for a smoke before the fireworks began.

  First came a blinding flash of light. A half second later, a second flash of light dazzled their already temporarily clouded vision. The ground shook beneath their feet almost immediately, and it increased its intensity a half second after that. Finally, a confused and deafening sound like a sonic boom farting deafened them, just as the light from the flaring flashes died away.

  Garret handed off the night vision goggles to Ian and focused his binoculars in the direction of the flashes. Ian could barely see past the hot spots through the goggles, but he saw enough to confirm that the whole top of the mountain peak was now missing.

  "I will go out to the area at first light, to verify that the strikes were successful," Garret decided. "Hopefully, that was enough to finish those monstrosities off.

  Just as they were about to return to the relative safety of the house, there were twin explosions in the general area of the former flashes. Focusing his binoculars carefully in that direction, Garret saw the smoldering wreckage of one of the fighter jets crumpled against the rim of the crater at the top of the mountain.

  "Damn," Garret swore. "It must have taken the planes out just after they had launched. I hope it was fast."

  In a slightly more somber mood than the victory over the Old One had initially inspired, the four of them returned to the house, and eventually, to bed.

  24 the pyre

  Friday 19, 2019@ 9:00 AM

  Ian woke up, disturbed that the dream had not disturbed his sleep. It had been traumatic enough that he was sweating, just remembering it, but somehow, for the first time, it had not been sufficient to wake him from sleep.

  He was grateful that he had slept for a solid six hours without interruption, but he was afraid that he might be becoming used to the darkness of the dream. A person cannot accept such inhuman concepts without in some small way becoming less human himself.

  That was enough of such worries, he decided. They were important, but the first task must always be survival. You want to be human at the end, but it would do no good to be a dead human.

  Freya was already downstairs, as usual. He put on his clothes and followed her likely trail down to the kitchen. He found the others already present around the kitchen table, having a somber chat about of the day's proposed activities while drinking up the small remaining supply of tea.

  Nobody had an appetite that was significant enough to deplete their little remaining supply of food. They took cups of tea with them into the living room, to see if there was any useful news on the television before they started the dirty task of burning the pile of bodies in the back yard.

  Ian turned the television on, a job that seemed to have been designated to him by some unknown authority. Freya used the remote to scan through the channels, looking for that broadcast worthy of their attention. On channel after channel, all she encountered was static. She was just about to give up on television for today when she finally hit a channel that actually had something other than static.

  It was a poor quality broadcast. It was on a channel that had never had a broadcast on it in the experience of the four. Nonetheless, it was there, and it was news of a sort. The uniformed anchor identified the broadcast as emergency news originating at the Red River Army Depot. The Depot was about twenty miles from the Arkansas border.

  "The local conditions have changed greatly in the last few days," the sergeant who was serving as the anchor of the news stated. "The Red River has split into several child streams, and most of these have found channels to the south of their origin point.

  The entire area is in flood stage, due to the low level but continuous rain in the area. Where the river has connected with tributary streams, the banks of the streams have seriously flooded and over flowed their banks. Many of the community areas in this part of Texas are, in essence, now islands in a fresh water lake that extends for miles. Any civilians in the area are advised that they may already be trapped by ragin
g waters, and even if they are not, travel is not recommended. It is unlikely that they will be able to find a route out of the area that flood waters have not made impassable.

  In related news, the Mississippi basin has been filled with ocean water, following the original river course. A series of lateral earthquakes from the New Madrid fault line has widened the river channel, turning the encroaching seawater into a bisecting ocean, splitting the North American Continent into two parts along that channel. One of our pilots confirmed this in a recent flyover, which ended in the loss of the airplane.

  Starting sometime late last night, the large thunderstorm, which had been ongoing in the western Louisiana area, expanded, and now extends over at least a one thousand mile area of the four states area. This cannot be a good sign for the cessation of the local rainfall.

  The ambient sunlight output from the sun this morning was measured at less than half of the level normal for this area at this time of the year. We have no explanation for this reduction in sunlight, but we can confirm that it is unrelated to the cloud cover, or other environmental conditions.

  We have limited sources of information available to us at this time, and this concludes our current understanding of conditions. Please standby for more information, as it becomes available. We will conclude this broadcast now, and initiate the next broadcast in one hour. If there is no new information, this broadcast will repeat at that time. This is Sergeant Miller, signing off for now."

  The television screen reverted to full static, and Ian hit the power button on the set to turn the television off. The four looked at each other for a moment of unspoken confirmation.

  "Given that our priorities have changed, we need to change our schedule slightly," Garret decided. "First, we need to take care of things around here, and then we will go check on things further afield."