by Al Halsey
“R’lyeh,” he whispered, and then glanced at the door. “I’m coming!” he shouted.
He shuffled to the door, and something brushed his leg. Kelsey reached down to pick up Marlin who had nosily trotted to the door. The feline was notorious for his escapes from the house, and he did not want to chase the varmint in the cold.
“Stay back,” he whispered, and the sound of a small thud hit the door. Wood splintered as a hole the size of a nickel appeared, followed by two more. If he had not been bent over, the bullets would have caught him in the chest.
Kelsey dove flat, and tossed the cat on the couch. He reached up onto the small table and his fingers groped for his holster. Three more holes cracked into the door as he grasped the leather. With practiced precision, muscle memory took over, and he unloaded a clip of .40 caliber bullets back through the door.
The slide of the Glock locked back as the last cartridge was spent, and he dropped the magazine and slid another in. The gun clicked as the slide jammed another cartridge into the chamber, and he waited with the sights aimed at the center of the door.
Something clattered on the other side of the entryway, and he waited for a few seconds before he grabbed his phone. Kelsey retreated into his bedroom. He hooked his holster to his belt, reached under the bed, and grabbed a gun case.
The house was eerily silent, except for the television. He popped the latches and grabbed the shotgun. Kelsey jacked a shell into the chamber, and then moved cautiously to the back door.
Kelsey peeked out the window into the back yard. His eyes adjusted to the darkness. There was no movement, and he slowly unlocked and opened the door. He waited beside the door for a sound. It was silent and he moved around the house.
Kelsey took a deep breath and cleared his lungs before he rounded the corner. On the steps of his home were two figures, dressed in black overcoats. Shotgun aimed, he advanced on the bodies. Both were male: one was barely alive as he tried to paw at a pistol on the steps. Kelsey kicked the gun away and surveyed the pair.
The first was immediately recognizable as FBI Agent Johnson. It appeared he had been hit at least three times in the low abdomen and once in the shoulder. The other was someone he didn’t recognize with an entry wound just above his left eye.
“God damn you,” Kelsey spat and pointed the gun at the wounded man’s face. “You and your bullshit about the end of the world is worth killing me over? Why?”
“It’s…bigger…than us,” the agent whispered. “There…has to be…order. To…the end.”
“Why?” Kelsey demanded angrily. “Why not tell people? Why not warn them if it’s true?”
The FBI agent moaned, closing his eyes. “We…have to have…jobs. What…else would…could we do? We’re… government…employees.”
The detective reached down to examine a hole in the agent’s shirt. One of the hollow point bullets had caught the man just on the right side, under the armpit and bled profusely. He looked at the crimson for a few seconds and watched the fluid spread on the steps. Eventually, lights flashed as they came down the street. Red and blue brightly interrupted the night, and cast iridescent shadows over death.
“God dammit,” Chief Rodgers roared. “Two FBI agents shot, one dead, one most likely going to die within minutes. What am I supposed to do with this?”
Kelsey focused on the lights on one of the patrol cars, then at the EMTs who tried to resuscitate the FBI agent. “I dunno. Not my problem.”
“Well you had better come up with some damn answers quick,” Ray shouted. “You know what the feds do with this kind of thing. Lawsuits, reviews, withholding money. They went after Arpaio down in Arizona with the full force of the Justice Department because he pissed them off. I don’t have the time.”
The Detective looked at the Chief. “I guess I fucking shoulda let them shoot me to avoid the political complications on your end, boss!” Kelsey shouted.
Ray glared, his hands clenched at his side and his body shuddered in controlled anger. He let out a long breath.
“Better he’s dead than you. What would bring him to your door to pull this stunt? When you guys were alone in my office the other day, what went on? You’d better come clean and fast,” the Chief said.
Kelsey looked down. “He threatened me. Told me to quit investigating the Samuels suicide, or else. Said to talk to no one about any of the end of the world stuff. Said he had a bullet with my name on it.”
Rogers bit his lip before he spoke. “An FBI agent threatened you and you didn’t think it was worth mentioning it to me? Feds or not, that’s bullshit.”
“I know,” Kelsey said angrily.
Patrolman Gibbs stood quietly and listened to the conversation. “You know procedure. Give Gibbs your gun.”
Kelsey pulled the Glock from its holster and cleared the chamber before he handed it to Gibbs, handle first.
“Idaho State Police Forensics are on their way, Chief,” the Patrolman said matter-of-fact.
“As of now you are on administrative leave. Don’t leave town, check in tomorrow so we can ask a million more questions with the State investigators present. The FBI will be crawling up our asses tomorrow,” the Chief said, and pointed at the detective. “Don’t talk to anyone without your union rep and an attorney from here on out, alright? What a mess this is gonna be.”
Gibbs finished as he fastened yellow tape around the door. “Crime scene,” he said before he nodded at Kelsey. “Gonna keep a patrol car out front all night.”
“Should be safe then, while the house is being watched,” the detective replied and picked up his cat. The beast purred, unaffected by the death out the front door. “Thanks.”
Gibbs headed towards the back door, then stopped. “Those FBI guys must have really been off their rockers, y’know?”
“Yeah,” Kelsey said quietly. “Off their rockers.”
The Patrolman left and Kelsey turned off the lights. He fumbled with the television remote, turned down the volume, then sat on the couch. The detective stared at the ceiling and mulled over the events of the last several days. The end of the world seemed to be the worst-kept secret and he had become the center of the vortex.
Something about the encounter with the old Nez Perce man seemed now to particularly unsettle the detective. It was more than the .38 tucked in his belt and his intention to end his life before he saw what would happen. Kelsey remembered the words of the man. “Dark creatures, leathern wings spread, like a bat the size of a man…bloated devils…I will make sure I don’t see it. You have the dreams. If you think about them too much, they affect your dreams. Old ruins, voices out of time, the dead trying to warn you that come back to haunt. You have them.”
“There has to be evidence,” Kelsey whispered. “If these things exist, there has to be evidence.”
Kelsey moved from the couch and sat down at his computer. He started to type words into search engines. Bats, giant bats, unnatural bats, mutant bats, bat men. Thousands of entries scrolled down the screen as he searched.
He began to combine different words and click on links, amazed at how much porn came up no matter what he typed. As the first rays of hazy, overcast dawn began to filter through the bullet holes in the door he found what he was afraid he might. The name of the link was ‘Giant Unknown Bats, Unidentifiable Animals’.
The link was of a small clip of video, produced by a television station in Rio Di Janeiro, Brazil. The video subtitled in English and showed the massive statue of Christ the Redeemer on the peak of Corcovado Mountain. The news story showed a shaky home video, taken early morning several weeks ago. The giant Jesus was silhouetted against the sunlight, but things moved around the massive construct.
The video showed something similar to giant bats as they roosted underneath the Savior’s outstretched arms. They were stirred to flight by the morning light. Kelsey shivered at the sight of the dark entities as they flapped and swirled around Christ. The video zoomed in but was blurry, details obscure other than the dark wings that propelled black bl
oated bodies through the air.
Several college professors talked over the pictures. They theorized about the origin of the giant bats, and from where they originated. One suggested some unknown genus of creature, the other suspected genetic mutation from nuclear power. The final voice and picture was that of a broken-toothed local, the brother of the man who shot the video. Shortly after the footage was delivered to the television station, the videographer mysteriously disappeared.
Kelsey played it again, and watched the dark figures flap. A sense of doom crept over him. Under the video was a list of comments, mostly in Spanish and Portuguese. One comment had a link that made him curious, and in shaky hand, he clicked it and another video started. A frozen image of the Spring Temple Buddha, near the Zhaocun Township in China, opened the newscast.
The language was Chinese, the subtitles English. The giant gold statue, towering at 153 meters glinted in the video. Predawn light sparkled against the folds of the Buddha’s metal robes. But something sinister flapped near his head and landed in his massive outstretched hand, where it and others shuffled unnaturally. The video zoomed closer as the camera operator tried to get a better picture. The focus was lost as multiple winged figures circled the sacred monument. Kelsey then realized how shaky his hands were as he watched the jumpy video. He glanced at the subtitles as they scrolled. The theory presented was the creatures were an American plot.
The dark, winged figures circled the colossus. Then several landed on the Buddha’s head. The staccato sounds of Chinese continued as he quickly read the subtitles. “Like a bat the size of a man…” He could almost hear the sound of the Elder’s voice again. Kelsey jumped when his cell phone rang.
He picked up the phone and looked at the screen. “Yeah, what’s up Gibbs?”
On the other end of the phone was the sound of an exhale, and Kelsey focused distantly on the television while he waited for a response. The set was turned down too low, but the screen showed a ‘Breaking News’ graphic with video of an aircraft carrier. “Kelsey, this is Austin. Are you watching the TV?”
The detective tensed. “No. Should I be?”
“Yeah,” Gibbs said tentatively. “Yeah. If you need anything…I mean…we’re here for you.”
“OK,” Kelsey said hollowly, and groped for the television remote. Shaky hands fumbled with the buttons before coming to rest on the volume. The screen jumped from the image to image, stock footage of warships and fleets and the volume increased until he could make out what the newsreader said.
“The press conference begins in just a few seconds. With something this major, there are always last-minute details to work out. Information moves quickly. Now we take you live to the Pentagon.”
The scene shifted from the footage of a destroyer to a podium backed by a field of blue. An American flag stood behind a man wearing a Navy Dress Uniform.
“I’m sorry to bring you here like this, but you may have heard the rumors. I will not answer questions as this is an ongoing investigation. Search and rescue operations are underway as we speak and details are hazy as to what has happened. I will not speculate as to the cause of the disaster,” the Admiral looked around the room. “I leave that to the press corp.”
A chorus of voices arose, and the Admiral held up his hand. “Yesterday morning, 2 A.M. Greenwich Mean Time, the U.S. Pacific Fleet was engaged in live fire exercises near New Zealand with the Russian Pacific Fleet. Something catastrophic happened, we don’t know what exactly yet, the investigation is ongoing. The results are both of our fleets were destroyed. This is a sad tragedy for both of our Nations. The cost in lives is incalculable. We want to stress that this was not an aggressive action on the part of the Soviet Naval forces. They are working in tandem with us to investigate the horrible tragedy.”
“R’lyeh…” the shade of his dead brother had whispered.
The chorus of voices raged, questions were shouted and a tear rolled down Kelsey’s cheek as he thought about the vision of his brother.
“We are engaging in search and rescue as we speak, but weather, combined with unusual magnetic disturbances hamper our efforts. We have ships moving to the area now, as are the Australian and Japanese Navies. We speculate that either magnetic anomalies from the recent earthquake caused some type of catastrophic weapons malfunctions on the ships, or some tidal phenomena associated with the recent quakes we don’t understand.”
A woman’s voice shouted a muffled question, and the Admiral looked over the crowd at the cameras.
“No survivors have been located yet. The effort is slow. No more questions.” He walked to the left of the podium, off camera and the room went insane with shouts and questions.
“Cthulhu,” Kelsey whispered, and then he choked. “Rob. Oh god, my brother is dead.”
He stood, and with all of his strength threw the television remote against the screen. The flat panel cracked, the colors of the picture scrambled as the set fell.
“God dammit!”
He fell backwards, sobbed, and held his face in his hands as he sat on the couch. For a few moments his thoughts swirled as it all came together in his mind, and he was a believer. They were right. The end of the world had begun.
He picked up his phone, began to dial his ex-wife. Then he stopped. She will see it for herself, he thought. Let her see if for herself.
“…the horrors that will befall the human race…” the old man had said.
“…neither conformed to our laws of physics or human decency...” Bishop Oakes had said. “…beyond time, beyond logic, beyond decency… Death will be a welcome reprieve when Cthulhu rises from his ocean tomb. Humans will be herded like cattle…”
Kelsey stood, teeth clenched and put down the phone, then replaced it with his shotgun.
“…I don’t fear death. I will not live to see what is happening…” the old man had said yesterday. “…the dead trying to warn you that come back to haunt…”
The detective thought about his brother as he put the barrel of the gun in his mouth, and thought about the final words of the FBI agent. “…There…has to be…order. To…the end…”
“The things come from another planet, being able to live in interstellar space and fly through it on clumsy, powerful wings which have a way of resisting the ether…if you do not dismiss me at once as a madman.” H.P Lovecraft, The Whisperer in Darkness
“Red Ruins”
Inspired by H.P. Lovecraft’s The Whisperer in Darkness
Mission Commander Frank McLaughlin and Mission Specialist Darwin Edders looked at the surface of Mars from the command deck of the Spirit of St. Louis. From orbit, the planet passed slowly and the two watched distant craters and valleys far below.
Darwin tapped on the glass, pointed and smiled. “Valles Marineris, to the south,” he said softly. “We did it, Frank.”
The Mission Commander smiled and nodded. He stared out of the window through the fourth planet’s thin atmosphere and to the largest canyon in the solar system.
“Air braking was a bit more disturbing than the engineers said it’d be. No simulator even comes close,” Frank said.
“First humans in orbit around Mars, and you’re still thinking of the procedures. That’s why you’re the Commander, I guess,” Darwin said.
Frank bit his lip and thought about the long journey. “Yeah. We did it.”
“Just twenty-four hours ago this was all theoretical. We’ll go down in history. First manned mission to Mars. August 22, two thousand and fifty. Have you ever thought of that?” Darwin said.
“Not really. I haven’t slept in the last twenty-four hours,” The Commander said as he scratched at his short, blond hair. He looked around the deck. The lights were dimmed, as the four other crew members had retired to sleep before the next workday started. Screens flickered with data that streamed from every functional sensor on the ship. This compartment of the craft was no more than a cramped ten feet across, but the two windows made if feel like it went on forever.
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�Who knows how many single event upsets we will be cleaning up in the next couple days, and replacing those nodes after charging. It would have been nice if the engineers back home would have modeled that big of a hit,” Darwin said.
“I don’t think anyone thought we would survive an SEU that big,” Frank said.
“The mainframe will take care of the upsets and decompress the backup data. Who knew we would be hit by that much radiation from the solar flare? Some sparking was bound to occur,” Darwin said and rubbed the dark stubble on his face. “Still reads nominal on the main boards. Backups are working. We will begin on the sensors after some rest. Power conservation mode in effect while the backups run diagnostics.”
The commander looked back out the window, touched the thick armored glass then turned to scan the screens. “We have a red light on the low gain panel. Are we getting DPacks we need to monitor?”
“Sorry, sir. We’ve been downloading data packets since the coronal mass ejection event and braking. Nothing unusual I’m aware of,” the specialist said.
In the zero gravity of the ship, Frank pushed himself off the bulkhead and floated to the low gain antenna panel. He gazed at the light. The flat panel monitor indicated seven different packets downloaded and decompressed at that moment. They were relayed from Earth so far away it took seventeen minutes and thirty-two seconds of travel time to arrive.
“Military code six,” Frank said quietly, and hooked an earpiece over his ear. He pushed the bud deep and gently touched his thumb to the screen. The computer identified his print and cued up the message. A prompt appeared and a fourteen-digit security code had to be entered.
“Code accepted,” the synthesized voice of the primary mainframe announced in his ear. His index finger gently tapped on the screen and another familiar voice echoed. It sounded so close yet half a solar system away.
“Commander McLaughlin,” said the deep tone of Colonel Mike Ferguson. “Good to get your last report: the engineers are working double shifts to analyze all the telemetry Dpacked back to us. That Solar Event was a little more than we expected. Glad to hear you’re all ok.”