The Symbiot

by Michel Weatherall

  Jim McShaw fired three times. All three bullets were destroyed in mid-flight by the Symbiot's powerful telekinesis. Nadia snapped her attention on Jim McShaw. The man's eyes bulged in terror and a sweat broke out across his forehead. But the Symbiot did not see this. She saw the billions and billions of atoms and molecules composing the man's whole physical body. She watched the shifting and ebbing of the molecular ocean tides. She saw the forces that held these myriads pieces together and whole. She concentrated on damaging and destroying those forces; of scattering these trillions of pieces. But more important to her, she saw the incorporeal forces interwoven into the atomic mass. She saw the life essence of the man's very soul! The Symbiot hungered.

  Jim McShaw's arms dropped to his sides and he began to cry out. His outline shifted and shimmered. It blurred. Neilson knew what was happening. He had to stop her! He had to break her concentration. The electronic equipment was still being crushed and the Symbiot was tearing Jim apart. She must be expending a great deal of concentration.

  Neilson steadied his arm and took careful aim with his pistol. He pulled the trigger four times. Each bullet was stopped and exploded before striking the Symbiot. Neilson felt her telekinetic arm reach out. It grabbed his right hand and twisted it until his wrist snapped and his hand dangled freely. The last bullet exploded in the pistol as it was crushed into a metallic pulp, but still Jim McShaw was being atomically disassembled! Neilson dropped to his knees in agony.

  "Michael!" Howard screamed. He knew he couldn't be heard. Veronica held Michael's arm desperately trying to help him to his feet but he only staggered and fell. Neilson reached out with his mind. He tried to read Michael's thoughts.

  Confusion. Vertigo. And a throbbing pain in the back of his head. He was knocked senseless. The back of his head bled. Neilson turned back to Jim McShaw. The man was only particles now. Like sand caught in the wind he simply blew away. What remained was only visible for but a second. It was Jim except colourless and incorporeal. It quickly collapsed into a marble-sized point of light and flew off towards Nadia, where she consumed it greedily!

  * * *

  The University's Audio-Engineering Building's entrance doors were locked. Juan Emilio Sanchez-Vasquez put his powerful shoulder to them. They burst open. The Hispanic was wheezing painfully. His heart thundered dangerously. The music became deafening as the front doors slammed against the walls. He had found the building.

  Juan Emilio leaned against the door frame trying to catch his breath and slow his racing pulse. But there was no time to waste!

  Over the roaring music and his wheezing he heard multiple gunshots. He charged down the darkened hallway frantically.

  * * *

  Tim Paupst freed himself from the smashed and twisted electronic equipment. He held the tape of Lorne Gibbons in his hand. He was terrified. He peeked over the equalizer. Nadia was staring at Professor Neilson and the man's outline was shifting and blurring!

  "OhmyGod, ohmyGod, ohmyGod!" Tim started gibbering in fear. He knew he had to get out with the tape. He climbed to his feet and stumble across the chaotic tangle of electronics. The smashed recording equipment shifted and moved. It became animated and barred his exit!

  A telekinetic claw clasped Tim around the throat and pinned him to the wall, his feet kicking wildly off the floor. Incorporeal fingers brushed over his hand and the tape. The Symbiot had found what it was looking for! The cassette snapped and crumbled to dust, while the tape melted and ran between Tim's fingers, burning them.

  * * *

  Neilson felt his body's torment as his atoms warred against unseen forces to remain intact.

  Michael struggled to his feet with Veronica’s help. He held the pistol loosely, barely able to make a fist. He felt noxious and couldn't decide whether he would vomit or fall down. The studio spun around him and his head throbbed painful.

  He saw Neilson on his knees. His vision was blurry. No. It was Howard who was blurry! Nadia was clear and focused. It was then that he realized the horrific truth. That this woman was no longer human. That she was only a shell now, a container for something hideous and alien; Nyarlathotep.

  Michael steadied himself against the wall, took aim and fired.

  The bullet struck the Symbiot in the forehead and tore clean through, exiting in a grizzly splatter of gray brains tinted purple by the light of the collapsing gateway.

  Nadia's body dropped to the ground but only lay there motionless for a moment. Her body stirred. Something incorporeal and black as the spaces between the stars began to billow forth from her. Like a pure energy of dark shadow. A substance that lacked any form or material - Nyarlathotep!

  The amorphous black shadow hovered over Nadia's body for a moment, churning and gurgling into itself. Then, it suddenly plunged into and through the collapsing purple gateway.

  The music immediately stopped. The sudden silence was ringing in their ears. Slowly and silently the gateway continued closing. All eyes fell on Nadia's corpse.

  Then, unbeknownst, a humanoid figure stepped out of the gateway! It appeared as only a dark silhouette superimposed over the diminishing dull purple sphere. Nobody noticed.

  The studio doors burst open and Juan Emilio charged into the room. His brown soulful eyes were wide with panic! He began shouting in Spanish. He then resorted to English as they obviously did not understand.

  "My God! Don't shoot! Veronica!"

  Michael turned and looked at the gateway. It was nearly shut. He saw the shadowy silhouette standing before it.

  "Holy Shit!" he shouted, drowning out the Hispanic's warnings. "It got back out! It got back out!!"

  The gateway snapped out of existence, plunging the studio into darkness. But Michael had took his aim and fired one shot into the darkness. The bullet found its mark and tore through the stranger's skull.

  There was confusion in the sudden darkness. Tim stumbled out of the tangled mass of electronic equipment. He knew where the emergency lighting was. Neilson shouted for the lights. There passed only a few moments of commotion and chaos before the emergency lights were switched on. It seemed like hours.

  Neilson looked around. Veronica sat on her knees cradling the body's head like a baby. She was weeping openly and pitifully.

  "He was only trying to escape!" she cried. "He was alive! It was him who was trying to communicate to me in my dream." She sobbed uncontrollably as Neilson approached.

  "Wait for me at the gate," she wept. "He was only trying to get out..."

  Neilson placed his hand on Veronica's shoulder as he looked down at the body. It was the body of Lorne S. Gibbons!

  "Wait for me at the gate," repeated Juan Emilio in perfect English. He placed his large and powerful hand gently and caringly on her back.

  "Veronica," he said soothingly, "I'm here. It's me, Lorne."

  Chapter IX: The Gibbons-Sanchez-Vasquez Connection

  Tim Paupst and Michael Richardson had secretly carried the remains of Nadia de LaFountaine and Lorne S. Gibbons to the University's medical building where the bodies were to be incinerated. The last thing they needed was to involve the police. They would never have believed the truth.

  As for the demise of Jim McShaw... that would prove difficult. Although his body would never be found, he would eventually be presumed missing. Inquiries would reveal that he was last seen in the company of Michael Richardson... but that problem would have to wait.

  Professor Howard Neilson, Veronica Francois, and Juan Emilio Sanchez-Vasquez talked. The Hispanic had repeatedly claimed to be Lorne S. Gibbons, Veronica's son-in-law, but the woman would not believe. Not until Senor Sanchez-Vasquez had recounted the horror of Mackenzie Street in Nadia's flat in shockingly minute detail. Veronica had then accepted it regardless of how miraculous and incredible it sounded. Even Professor Neilson was told things that only Lorne and himself had known and discussed in detail, and then he too believed.

  “But, what happened? How did this all come about?” Veronica asked. “You were lost, just like Na
dia; just like Marie and Henri were five years ago.”

  Juan Emilio's dark eyes turned to Veronica. “It is true,” he began, still wheezing from the past ordeal. “When your sister, Karen, threatened to stop my research I panicked. I hadn't perfected Erich Zann's theory on my own yet, but I was so close. I couldn't allow Karen, or anybody for that matter, to stop me.

  “I attempted the musical piece and failed. I was...” he paused, searching for the proper word, “... pulled, no, more like sucked through the Gateway. I became trapped in Nyarlathotep's prison-universe.”

  “My God,” stated Neilson absentmindedly. “How in Heaven did you survive for those four months?”

  “Time's not the same on the other side, Howard,” the Hispanic answered, breathing laboriously. “And neither is space.”

  “One of Nyarlathotep's species, a lesser brethren, if you wish...” here he paused for a long time. “...joined... with me.”

  “Lorne,” Veronica half gasped, “what do you mean... joined?” she whispered.

  “Not physically, no,” he continued still having difficulty breathing. He began to massage his left arm. He turned his attention back to Howard. “Nyarlathotep's species are completely incorporeal. They can't even enter a physical body. They do not have the proper... facilities, to make a physical union. Our souls however do have the necessary facilities to hold on to a physical body, of course. These 'symbiots' join with our minds, with our souls and through our soul hold onto the physical body.”

  The two remained completely silent. Juan Emilio regained his breath before continuing. “The Symbiot-species itself does not have a strong sense of identity or individuality. Hardly. It seems to be unaware of its own existence. It is only through symbiotic joining that it can learn identity from its host... me.

  “As for this,” he raised his dark Hispanic hands, “This is difficult to explain.

  “We had theorized some of the truth, Howard. Nyarlathotep's symbiot-species is immortal as we understand immortality. They cannot die. And since this symbiot joined with me on a metaphysical, or mental level... I cannot die... I cannot pass out of this world.”

  “What?! What do you mean?” asked Neilson.

  “In Nyarlathotep's prison-universe, time and space is... different. Here, in this universe, in this time-space continuum, time flows. In a straight line. It constantly moves forward as space grows larger and expands.”

  “Of course,” agreed Neilson.

  “In Nyarlathotep's prison-universe time does not... flow. It exists in random non-related 'clumps'.”

  “Clumps?” asked Veronica.

  “Yes,” answered Juan Emilio. “If we were to travel back one year, then we would be one year in the past. If we were to travel one year into the future, we would be one year in the future. In short, Now is Now. One year from Now is one year from Now. Right? Do you follow? Good. In our universe time travels in an ordered and predictable pattern. Not so in the other universe.

  “In the prison-universe what is Now is Now. What is one year from Now is... anywhere. What is one year in the past is... again, anywhere. Time is chaotic and unorganized, and since time and space are related, space does not expand or grow but exists in isolated 'clumps', or spacial islands, if you wish. There actually exists very little, if any matter at all.

  “But to answer your question, Howard, as to how I survived four months... well, to me four months didn't pass. Not really. It was timeless to me.

  “When the Gateway out opened, the symbiot-facet in me sensed it. I traveled towards it with intent of escaping... but the Nadia/Nyarlathotep Symbiot beat me to the exit. It wouldn't allow me to escape. So I tried to send a message while the Gateway was open – to you Veronica. 'Wait for me at the Gate', I think it was... in German? You can't know what thought is like in the prison-universe. I had difficulty in distinguishing between different languages – or I should say my symbiot-facet had problems.”

  “Yes,” answered Veronica. “You did reach me, through a dream.”

  “That must have been when Tim opened the Gateway by accident,” added Neilson. “When Nadia was set free.”

  Juan Emilio bowed his head in thought. “It was a very long time before the opportunity presented itself again. The Gateway out was again opened – tonight, only a little while ago. That was me who stepped out... who was shot. I remember it. That's how I entered Juan Emilio Sanchez-Vasquez's body, this body.

  “When I was shot, tonight, my body – the body of Lorne Samuel Gibbons died. My soul and the symbiot was forced out. That bond that ties the spirit to the body was broken through death. But the symbiot-species cannot exist within our universe without a physical aspect, and since it could not return to its own universe... it had to find a new body.

  “Now, how I ended up in this body involved more than what I've just explained. The symbiot-species is not accustomed to our forward flowing time-stream. It isn't natural to them. As I've explained, they exist naturally in a disjointed, chaotic time 'line'.”

  “I think I understand,” Neilson said.

  Juan Emilio breathed heavily. His left arm was agonizingly painful now. He continued, “When my body, my original body, died tonight, the symbiot-facet of me sought out the nearest vacant body in both time and space. It found this,” he finished, looking down at himself.

  “Juan Emilio Sanchez-Vasquez had died of a heart attack three days ago in Argentina. This was where I went – involuntarily.

  “This symbiot-facet must have some sort of rejuvenating power. I don't know for sure. ESP maybe? Whatever, it quickly repaired Senor Sanchez-Vasquez's heart damage.

  “I then traveled to Montreal. I had hoped to find you, Veronica, but you had already left for Miskatonic University, so I followed.

  “I still have a problem grasping it. I had actually traveled three days into the past!!”

  “But... Juan Emilio... died. What happened to his... to his soul?” Veronica hesitatingly asked.

  Juan Emilio's inner pain became very obvious. His eyes dropped and he remained silent for a long time before answering. When he did answer, it was little more than a whisper: “We absorbed it.”

  “What...?” gasped Howard.

  “He became part of... us,” answered Lorne. “A part of the whole. We all share each others memories and experiences and knowledge. What Lorne knows, the symbiot knows. What the symbiot knows, Juan Emilio knows. What Juan Emilio knows, Lorne knows.”

  Howard and Veronica fell silent. They couldn't even begin to imagine Lorne's guilt. They felt for him. They wanted to comfort him but had no idea what to say or do.

  “My God, that's horrible,” Veronica whispered out loud.

  “No!” snapped Lorne. “It's far worse!”

  Veronica's mouth dropped open. She hadn't meant it that way.

  “I know you didn't mean it that way,” Lorne grabbed the thought straight out of her head. “And neither did I.” He turned his attention back to Howard. “Remember Otto Zann, Nadia's father? How we couldn't fit him into my theory. Well, I have the answers now!

  “We've always assumed that Erich Zann opened the Gateway first, his son, Otto, second, and Nadia lastly. The Prison-Universe's time does not flow straight and forward like ours. It is not linear time.

  “True, Erich Zann opened the Gateway first, but his age and feeble health had killed him before Nyarlathotep could join. But where we made our mistake was that it was Nadia de LaFountaine, in 1987 who opened the Gateway second. Not Otto! She was killed tonight and Nyarlathotep banished back to its Prison-Universe, but to Nyarlathotep's view point, Otto Zann will be the third to summon it! Its time does not correspond with ours!”

  “But... Otto Zann has been in a German asylum for the past 50 years, comatose.” Howard said.