by Tim Waggoner
So she grabbed the envelope, stood, and left the bedroom. She’d kicked off her shoes before lying down, and she padded barefoot into the kitchen. She walked through it and into the dining room, and through that to the basement door. There was nothing especially sinister about it. It was a plain wooden door without a knob that up until this morning had been hidden by wallpaper. Odd for sure, but that was all.
She opened the door, reached inside to turn on the lights, and headed down the stairs. The unfinished wood felt hard beneath her bare feet, and the concrete floor was cold as ice. A far cry from the South American jungle she had imagined this morning. Feeling more than a little foolish and glad there was no one around to watch her, she slid the pages from The Book of Masks out of the envelope. She sorted through them until she found what she wanted—the section Maegarr had read in her dream. Once she found it, she cleared her throat and began reading.
“To see is to know. To know is to die. To die is to become nothing, and Nothing is Everything.”
* * *
Ash Creek wasn’t a large town by any means, but it always felt that way to Jon Lantz during rush hour. He hated dealing with traffic. It frustrated him to the point where he was yelling at every idiot on the road—or in other words, every damn idiot but himself—and by the time he made it home, he was stressed and irritable and, if he wasn’t careful, he would end up snapping at Joan and basically being a miserable grump for several hours. To avoid this, he usually remained at the store until 5:30, sometimes later, to give the traffic time to thin out. Sometimes he wondered if Joan thought he was having an affair since when he came home later he arrived in a better mood. But she’d never said anything about it, and he figured there was nothing to worry about.
He wondered what Joan would make for dinner tonight. She liked stir-fry dishes and made them a lot. They were good, but sometimes he wanted a more substantial piece of meat. She hadn’t made pork chops for a while, and he thought there were some in the fridge. If she hadn’t started cooking already, maybe he could talk her into making them. He was hopeful that they might have sex later too. But she hadn’t slept well last night because of that weird dream of hers, so she might be too tired. He smiled. Maybe he could talk her into that as well.
As he pulled into their driveway, he thumbed the garage remote. As he saw the door rise, he wasn’t surprised to see Joan’s Mazda inside. She normally arrived home before he did, unless she had shopping to do or it was one of her yoga nights at the rec center. He didn’t, however, see the finger-sized dark object slither from the yard into the garage. If he had, he most likely would’ve thought it was a chipmunk or a mouse. He wouldn’t have bothered to search for the thing. That would’ve been too much like work, and he’d already put in his eight hours and change. Instead, he would’ve left the garage door cracked a couple inches so the little bugger could find its way back outside when it realized there was nothing good to eat in the garage. But he didn’t see the creature, so he pulled in his pickup beside Joan’s Mazda, parked, cut the engine, and pressed the remote to lower the door. He grabbed the plastic bag containing a new set of doorknobs for the basement door, then got out of the truck and closed the door behind him. He walked around the back of Joan’s car and headed for the door that led into the house.
Jon didn’t see the black goo spreading out to cover the doorknob, and when he grabbed hold of it and tried to turn it, his hand slid as if the metal had been smeared with grease. Puzzled, he raised his hand to look at it. His palm was covered with a black smear of something. He wasn’t sure what the hell it was or how it had gotten on the knob. Had Joan—
Before he could finish that thought, thin tendrils extruded from the goop—seven in all, although Jon had no time to count them. They streaked toward his face, and two slithered up his nostrils, one wiggled into his mouth, two dug into his ears, and the last pair plunged into the tiny spaces between his eyeballs and tear ducts. Pain took hold of him then, so intense, so all-consuming, that he couldn’t move, couldn’t scream, couldn’t think. All he could do was stand there, immobile, as the Durg’s foul substance raced through his system, growing as it went, changing him, remaking him. The process was swift, only a few moments, but for the tiny remnant of consciousness that was all that remained of Jon Lantz, the agony seemed to last an eternity. When it was over, there was no outward sign that Jon was gone. His body looked exactly the same as it had before he’d reached for the doorknob. But inside…well, that was a different matter.
His lips stretched into a stiff smile. Not perfect, but it was only his first attempt. He was confident he could get better in time.
The thing wearing Jon Lantz’s body opened the door and stepped into the house.
“Hi, honey!” it said, the words too loud and overly enunciated. “I’m home!”
CHAPTER 6
“Remove the final mask and destroy it, so it may never be donned again, then gaze upon the Truth and know it at last in all its terrible majesty.”
The instant Joan finished reading the pages she felt a wave of warm humid air roll over her, and the basement lights began to dim. The shadows that had up to this moment been content to remain hiding in corners slowly came forward, then—as if emboldened by the lack of resistance they encountered—darted forward, eager to play. They filled the basement from wall to wall, ceiling to floor, blacking out the last few scraps of light until none remained. She had the impression of a great space yawning open above her head, and one by one stars winked into existence until the ceiling—no, the sky—was filled with them. She heard the rustle of leaves in the wind, and if she squinted, she could detect the silhouettes of trees surrounding her. The concrete beneath her bare feet became softer, warmer, until it wasn’t concrete at all but soft earth and yielding grass.
It was like what she had experienced this morning, only this was more present, more real. And instead of fading quickly as it had this morning, it continued, growing stronger and more there with each passing moment. She looked forward, toward what should’ve been an unfinished stone wall, but now—like the ceiling—seemed to open out onto a much larger space. She could see bluish green coldfire torches burning in the distance, could hear the opening strains of “Eat the Night” blaring from speakers.
It felt so real… All she would have to do was start walking forward, and she’d find herself in Placidity. She could join the rest of the Congregation in the Pavilion and listen to Maegarr speak. His words were like music all by themselves, and at the same time they were like a drug. They sounded so sweet, made so much sense, fed a part of her she didn’t know existed, a part that was so hungry.
She took a step forward.
She sensed movement in the darkness around her then, heard a soft shuffling as if numerous bodies had gathered and were moving closer. She heard a metallic clack-clack-clack, the sound cutting to the core of her soul like a blade of frozen steel. Although she’d never heard the sound before in her life, she knew exactly what was making it, and the knowledge scared the shit out of her.
Durg.
The clack-clacking rose in volume and although she couldn’t see them, she knew the Durg were coming closer. The spell of Maegarr’s music was broken, the lure of Placidity forgotten. All that remained to her was sheer, unreasoning terror as the Durg drew closer, closer…
A hand touched her shoulder and she nearly screamed. Darkness fled and light spilled into the basement once more. She spun around—dropping the pages from The Book of Masks—and saw Jon looking at her curiously.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He looked down at the pages scattered on the basement floor, along with the padded envelope they’d come in. He crouched and began gathering them together. He glanced at a couple pages before sliding them into the envelope. Then he stood and handed the pages to Joan.
“Looks like interesting reading.”
He smiled then, although it looked more like he was baring his teeth at her. Then he turned and started heading for the stairs. As he sta
rted up them, he said, “So what’s for dinner?” This was followed by a soft tapping sound, and she realized he was rapidly clacking his teeth together.
* * *
“It won’t be long now.”
Kevin stood in Harris’s living room, surrounded by the intricate and bizarre bone sculptures the old man had erected. Speaking of erections, Harris sat naked and cross-legged on the floor, his corkscrew pig penis engorged and standing at attention. Kevin noticed then that Harris’s left hand was gone. There was only a ragged stump oozing some thick tarlike substance onto the floor.
“What do you mean?” Kevin asked.
The man’s eyes were wide, as was his grin.
“Things have been coming to a head for a while now. A long while. It’s our task to poke holes in reality, create openings so corruption can enter, break down existence, and hasten the ultimate Dissolution. I did what I could to court the Vast, to bring darkness into the world. But my efforts were poor compared to what he did, and what he intends to accomplish tonight. It’s a comeback performance, one night only, and it’s going to be spectacular!”
Harris’s corkscrew penis swelled, reddened, tightened, and then burst in a spray of blood and semen. The foul mixture splattered onto Kevin, and he staggered backward, frantically trying to scrape the muck off his face. He stumbled into a section of Harris’s sculptures and spun around several times as he tried to extricate himself. But his efforts only managed to entangle himself further, and he ended up ensnared in a web of wire and bone. His feet slipped out from beneath him, but the sculpture’s wires kept him from falling. This was bad enough, but the wires began tightening, pressing deeply into his flesh, the coils around his chest preventing him from drawing in breath. And still the wires continued to tighten, bones pressing against him as if he were growing an exoskeleton. His clothes tore, and his dimpled flesh began to split beneath the wires’ pressure, and dozens upon dozens of cuts opened across his body, and blood flowed in thick streams, pattering on the floor like crimson rain. Kevin wanted to scream, needed to, if only to give voice to the fiery pain that engulfed him. But he couldn’t take in enough air, and his mouth could only gape silently as his life bled away.
Harris—his crotch now nothing but a ragged red ruin—laughed and laughed.
* * *
Kevin’s eyes snapped open, and the first thing he did was draw in a gasping breath. Olivia glanced at him for a moment and then returned her attention to the road.
“Sorry.” Kevin rubbed a hand over his face and was relieved to find it wasn’t covered in blood-cum. “Had a nightmare.”
He’d fallen asleep not long after they’d hit the road, the events of the last day—coupled with his lack of rest—finally catching up with him. He had no idea how long he’d slept, though, or where they were precisely. It was still daylight, but the deep orange quality of the light told him it was closing in on dusk.
Before he could ask, Olivia said, “We’re almost there.”
He hadn’t slept too long then, maybe forty-five minutes at most. It hadn’t nearly been enough, and that fucking nightmare hadn’t helped any. He felt more groggy and tired than he had when he’d conked out. He’d have been better off staying awake for the entire drive.
“Did you know you talk in your sleep?” Olivia asked.
It had been a long time since anyone had shared his bed, and those times had been infrequent and of extremely limited duration. Because of this, he wasn’t surprised that no one had ever mentioned he talked in his sleep.
“Really?” He forced a smile. “I hope I didn’t say anything embarrassing.”
Olivia kept her eyes on the road as she spoke. “You mostly mumbled and I couldn’t make out what you were saying. I did catch one word, though. Joan.”
Kevin felt his face go hot, and he knew he was blushing. He tried to sound casual as he replied. “Huh. That’s weird.”
The corner of Olivia’s mouth quirked up in a near-smile. “Isn’t it?”
They were on I-70, driving through a dull landscape of grassy fields dotted with trees and billboards advertising fast-food restaurants and so-called attractions such as AMISH CHEESE SHOP and HOUSE OF 10,000 PICTURE FRAMES. There was also the occasional religious-themed billboard of the fire-and-brimstone variety, displaying simple messages like REPENT and HELL IS REAL.
Kevin wondered what the people who’d paid for these billboards would think if they understood the universe’s true nature. There was no Heaven or Hell, only the Gyre’s infinite hunger. They’d probably grab one of their many hoarded guns, walk out into the backyard, and blow their brains out. Maintenance wasn’t against religion, though. Far from it. In fact, they did what they could to promote and strengthen it. The illusion that there was more to existence than being food gave humanity the will to keep going, and delaying entropy was Maintenance’s mission after all. Flavor to the Feast.
Kevin didn’t bother to ask Olivia if they’d passed across the state line into Indiana yet. They obviously had since she’d indicated they were close to their destination.
After the Intervention Team had cleared away the Durg, Kevin and Olivia had returned to Maintenance’s Ash Creek office to receive a truly epic chewing-out from Deanna. As angry as she was that they’d provoked the Durg into attacking, she was furious that the incident had taken place out in the open during the day, when potentially dozens of witnesses might have been watching. Because of this, she removed them from surveillance of the Lantz house and said she’d replace them with another team that was less “volatile,” as she put it. But Maintenance was, as always, shorthanded, and it was clear from the readings Kevin had retrieved at the Lantzes’—not to mention the fact that a Durg had been involved—that something major was happening. Therefore, Deanna had decided to broaden the scope of the investigation. She ordered Kevin and Olivia to travel to the Bishops’ new home in Indiana and put them under surveillance. When Olivia asked why Deanna didn’t request an Indiana branch of Maintenance conduct the surveillance, she’d said, “Because I want to get you two as far away from me as possible.”
Olivia hadn’t said anything to Kevin about their humiliating meeting with Deanna. She’d driven him to his apartment so he could shower and get a fresh set of clothes, and they’d set out for Yardley, Indiana, where the Bishops now resided.
Kevin glanced at Olivia. As usual, her face was expressionless as she drove.
“I’m really sorry about what happened,” he said. “I haven’t exactly been batting a thousand lately. I’ll understand if you want to request a new partner after this.”
She continued looking straight ahead as she answered.
“You don’t have anything to apologize for. We were only following procedure by observing the Durg. Everything that happened after that was a consequence of doing our job.” She paused, then turned to look at him. “I admire how you attacked the Durg with the fire extinguisher. It was bad-ass.” She returned her attention to the road quickly then, as if embarrassed.
Kevin smiled. “Thanks. That makes me feel a lot better.”
“Good. Now we just have to make sure we don’t screw up again.”
Kevin noted her use of the word we.
He sighed. Given how fucked-up this whole situation with the Lantzes had been so far, he thought Olivia’s words would prove more easily said than done.
* * *
The last light of day pinked the horizon as they parked down the street from the Bishops’ house. The couple lived outside Yardley, in a rural area consisting of small run-down houses and fallow fields that looked as if they hadn’t been planted in years. The trees were twisted, their bark dotted with patches of discolored mold. The grass was brown and lifeless, as if their region suffered from a period of extended drought, although a quick Internet search confirmed the rainfall in the area had been above average for the last several months.
Kevin and Olivia knew the signs of corruption when they saw them. Kevin wasn’t surprised the Bishops had moved to a place like t
his. Anyone who’d spent even a small amount of time living in a structure suffused with as much negative energy as the house on Hollyhock Avenue would be affected by it. Perhaps the Bishops needed a degraded area like this to feel comfortable. Joan Lantz hadn’t been living in the house on Hollyhock long—only a couple weeks—but it was bound to have changed her already. He wondered how much and in what ways. He wondered what was in the envelope the Durg had left for her, and what it might have done to her.
The Bishops’ new home wasn’t just a step down from their last house. It was a few hundred, Kevin thought. It was much smaller, little more than a shack, really. A boxy thing with a flat tarpaper roof and unpainted walls, the wood so weathered it looked like it might crumble away to nothing in a strong breeze. The windows were covered with opaque sheets of plastic on the outside, and Kevin wondered if there was any glass behind the plastic or if the plastic was the windows. The house was set back from the road thirty feet, and it had a short bare-earth driveway. An SUV was parked next to the house. The vehicle was in good condition, and it made quite a contrast to the rest of the property.
Kevin and Olivia got their equipment running, and while Olivia sat before one of the computers running scans, Kevin sat at the second workstation, contemplating how he could get close to the Bishops’ house to plant some close-range sensors. The Bishops didn’t have any nearby neighbors. The closest house was a half mile away. The fields surrounding the Bishops’ property were filled with dry knee-high grass and weeds, and not only wouldn’t they provide any visual cover, they would make a lot of noise if he tried to move through them. His only approach was to walk down the road and up their driveway, but he would be easily seen. And he couldn’t disguise himself as an employee of the power or water company. This wasn’t the suburbs where workers of that sort weren’t an uncommon sight. No, he’d have to wait until later, when it was full dark and the Bishops were most likely asleep. So it looked like he and Olivia were in for a long wait until—