-the Symbiot's hypnotic trance was broken. Nyarlathotep lost the image of the iridescent bubble-congeries as it became aware of music. It forced the Symbiot's consciousness to condense; to return to its physical host on earth. To return to the revitalized body of Otto Zann.
Otto's green eyes flashed with anger as the morning sun broke through the freezing rain clouds as he scanned back and forth. Someone was opening the Gateway to the Prison-Universe! He had heard the music! His body began to fall into a mist, being broken down for teleportation, being dispersed, being summoned, being sucked to that 'pocket' universe between the two. Being summoned to the location of the opening Gateway!
But the Symbiot wasn't greatly concerned. It was freed. It had symbiotically joined with a physical host. It could remain within this universe. It couldn't be forced through the Gateway. It could return to Yog-Sothoth shortly. Whomever had opened the Gateway would pay dearly! The Symbiot hungered.
* * *
When Tim Paupst and Michael Richardson returned the Hispanic man was quite dead. Professor Neilson and Veronica explained everything that the Lorne-symbiot had said including the new-Otto/Nyarlathotep Symbiot.
"We'll need to open the Gateway again," Howard stated, "but as to how we can get the Otto-symbiot through..." He shrugged his shoulders.
"How can we open the Gateway?" asked Michael. "Veronica, you had the original copy of Lorne's tape, right? That copy was destroyed. Tim -" he turned to Paupst, "- you made a filtered copy. Did you save it?"
"No," the boy answered solemnly. "Nadia destroyed it too."
Veronica added, "But I had made an additional copy myself, intended for Howard... but the Filipino impostor took it," she finished with a sigh.
"Then we can't open the Gateway..." whispered Neilson. "It's hopeless."
"What about performing the musical piece itself?" asked Tim.
"As far as I know there were only three people who could. Erich Zann, which is long since dead," Neilson began, "Otto Zann, which is now our biggest problem, and Nadia de LaFountaine, which we've just killed tonight."
"What about Lorne Gibbons?" Tim Paupst would not lose hope.
Neilson pointed to the body of Juan Emilio Sanchez-Vasquez. "That's Lorne. He's dead."
There suddenly appeared a strange thin mist throughout the room. All four of them noticed it. It very quickly congealed into a thick fog and collapsed into a humanoid silhouette. The next moment there stood a thin, vile looking Filipino man with Tim Paupst's ghetto blaster in his hand.
All three shouted at the same time:
"Holy shit!" shouted Tim, "That's Mr. Samuel!"
Veronica muttered, "Mon dieu! That's the impostor!"
And Neilson said, "Good Lord! That's the cabbie who crashed my rental at the Montreal Airport!"
Chapter XI: Mr. Samuel's Voyage
April 7th, '92
The Philippines, Manila
(2 ½ months ago)
It had been nearly three days since the Filipino had raised out of the swamp in the shadow of the mighty Tarlac – since he arose from the dead.
His decomposed muscles and ligaments had healed enough to allow him to walk and walk he did. He was just entering Manila, a one-hundred and twenty mile walk.
The Filipino's primary concern right now was to attain Senor Sanchez-Vasquez's American Express Card, for he knew the Argentinian was very rich. He could answer any question the American Express Office might ask. He knew all the personal information the Hispanic man knew. He could even forge the man's signature perfectly – and why not? He had been the man before the metempsychosis occurred.
The sun was low in the sky over Manila. It would set shortly. The Filipino had no idea where to find the American Express Office. The Filipino-facet of this symbiot had been a very poor man. He never had the luxury of credit cards – or for that matter, even for 'those rich foreign banks'. But the other facets of this symbiot knew. He now only needed to find the location of the branch.
The sun had sunk below the city's jagged horizon when he came across a pair of poor, shabby looking men. He was very tired of walking and was near starving. His eyesight was still poor, which didn't help his searching. He had given up completely on searching through the city. He asked the pair in the Filipino language if they could help him.
Due to his poor vision, he caught only the metallic flash of a blade before the two were upon him. They were not particularly fast. No, it was that he could not make his yet unhealed body react quickly enough.
One had pinned his right arm to the wall with one hand and with his free hand squeezed his testicles. The second Filipino, the one with the knife, pinned his left arm and held the blade to his throat!
“What does a diseased beggar like you need with an American Express Card?” the one with the knife demanded. “Are you rich? Do you have money? Pesos?” He pressed the knife harder. The Filipino Symbiot felt the razor-sharp blade bite into his neck.
Deep within his multimind something dark stirred. The alien-facet sensed the threat. It billowed forth. The human-facets fought and struggled to contain it. But its survival was at stake. It overcame, overpowered and came to the front – took control.
The knife-wielding mugger's face seemed to grow – to expand – to become huge! The symbiot was now seeing the man's atoms and molecules! The human-facets were amazed by their beauty. They watched the waxing and waning of the molecular oceans. The energies that flowed and coursed through the cells – the energies that were the man's very essence – his very life force – his very soul, were more beautiful than they had ever seen in their combined existences. They were astonished by the complexity of the body, the delicate and intricate bonds between mind and body!
Then the serene moment was broken. The symbiot struck! The mugger's eyes opened wide! His mouth became slack and his jaw dropped open. His clenched fist dropped the knife.
As all of the symbiot's facets shared the same thoughts, the human-facets became immediately aware of the other's monstrous intent. They knew what was going to happen!
Within the multimind there abounded a deafening flood of denial and pleading from the human-facets! They did not want this to happen! But the alien-facet drowned out their protests and continued…
The mugger's body collapsed! The atoms and molecules burst in a fine but short lived outward spray! What remained was a specter of the man, his eyes wide with terror!
The human-facets surged within the multimind. They could no longer save him but they could stop his consumption... or so they thought! Again the alien-aspect seethed into supremacy...
The ghost-Filipino contracted into a small glowing sphere.
One final attempt! But this time the symbiot-facet was prepared! It bloated itself into massive proportions, drowning its other parts within its enormous bulk – burying them deep into the multimind!
The specter-sphere was absorbed by the Symbiot! The second mugger, being frightened beyond his wits, turned and ran.
The alien-facet focused on the second mugger – but its survival was no longer in danger and thus its resolve was weakened. Weakened enough for the human-facets to take reigns...
As the second mugger escaped, the multimind shared the thoughts, experiences, and knowledge of their new facet. They knew where the American Express office was. They also knew where and how to attain a fake passport. Good, they thought, that would be of great help. After all, they did have to enter the U.S. and Canada.
* * *
April 8th, '92:
The Filipino had attained Senor Sanchez-Vasquez's American Express Card and withdrew a large cash advance. He had slept the night and breakfasted.
He had purchased an overcoat and a large brimmed straw hat. Although he was slowly healing and rejuvenating, his face was still showing signs of decomposition. He could pass as a plague-riddled victim but that would only deter the help he now needed: namely, passage to the North American Continent.
On the whole he was unsuccessful. He did manage to bribe a
freight ship's captain bound for Ponape for passage. It wasn't what he had desired but it was one step closer.
* * *
April 10th, '92:
The freight ship had arrived in Ponape only an hour ago. Night had fallen. The Filipino-symbiot knew that the U.S. had control over Ponape under an United Nations trusteeship since WWII.
His luck was changing. He had hoped to find an American bound ship. As Lady Fate would have it, the U.S. Lady Monterey, a freight and trading ship was due out within six hours, bound for San Francisco! The Lady Monterey's captain, or any person of authority, could not be reached however. This posed a problem.
He knew the alien within possessed the power of teleportation, but this symbiot was young for its species and its abilities were untried and untested. He did not wish to attempt it. In all honesty the thought of having his body disassembled and then reassembled did not sit very well with him. No, he would have to find a different method.
He could telepathically reach out to one of the ship's dock workers. Force him to unconsciously help him aboard as part of the crew. Yes, this would work. If he could accomplish this he would succeed. Should any officer of foreman not recognize him, he should be able to plant the memory within the man's mind artificially. It was decided.
* * *
April 20th, '92:
The U.S. Lady Monterey had docked in San Francisco at noon. Shame, the Filipino thought, he didn't even need his fake passport. He had entered completely unhindered.
All there was left to do was catch a flight to New York and then a connector to Montreal. Child's play!
As circumstances turned out, Mr. Samuel had to spend a night in New York and his connector flight only took him as far as Syracuse. He then took a flight from Syracuse to Montreal.
* * *
April 25th, '92:
He had just exited the Montreal airport. When departing the plane, the Canadian Officers were checking passports. No problem; he had his fake one.
He checked into the Bonaventure Hilton International Hotel. Mr. Samuel had remained at the hotel for two full months. During which he secretly stole Mrs. V.L. Francois' mail daily, checking the correspondences between her and Professor Neilson, then returning the mail so as to not raise any suspicions.
Mr. Samuel had learned that Professor H. Neilson was to obtain a copy of Lorne S. Gibbons' tape! This was Mr. Samuel's single goal! He had to detain Neilson at the airport and then impersonate him to gain possession of Lorne Gibbons' tape from Mrs. V.L. Francois.
* * *
June 25th, '92
Montreal International Airport
3:00 pm
Mr. Samuel was horrified to find that Professor Neilson's flight had arrived five minutes ago! It wasn't due until 3:15!
Don't panic, he whispered to himself. He knew Prof. Neilson and judging from the letters between Neilson and Veronica, he would more than likely rent a car.
He had to think it through: Neilson would still be busy. Departing the plane, getting his luggage, clearing customs; it would all take time.
I'll get my own rental, Mr. Samuel thought, wait for Neilson, and crash his car. That would surely detain him. That would give me time to approach Veronica and obtain the tape.
As Mr. Samuel walked through the airport to the car rental kiosk, he planned what rental he wanted; Something big and heavy. Something that could damage another car into uselessness but keep running. A luxury car. A Cadillac? Why not? It was Senor Sanchez-Vasquez's money. It was his money. A Cadillac it would be!
Mr. Samuel had waited a good fifteen minutes in line. The Discount Rental Office was training a new employee and he wasn't working very efficiently.
When he did have service it too took time. The whole ordeal was topped off by Mr. Samuel being informed that his American Express Card was unacceptable! Declined!
He cursed himself silently. He knew what had happened. He had overused it. Senor Sanchez-Vasquez was rich and wouldn't have noticed a couple thousand dollars - but he had splurged! The two month stay at the Hilton's Bonaventure. The plane tickets. The large cash advances. The card had been canceled or frozen.
As he scanned back and forth in a deepening panic he saw Neilson outside with briefcase in one hand and rental car keys in the other! He was heading for the parking lot!
Samuel's panic had given into rage. He quickly glared around. A taxi! That was where he ran. A dark haired, mustached French-Canadian cab-driver stared at Mr. Samuel inquisitively.
The alien-facet pumped adrenaline through Samuel's body. The Filipino snatched open the taxi's door, bending it's hinges in his violence, grabbed the driver by his jacket lapels and quite literally tossed him across the parking lot. The driver smashed through another taxi's windshield.
Samuel jumped into the taxi and threw it in gear. The taxi raced towards the rental car lot. Neilson was driving a Capri, exiting and turning right; directly towards the taxi.
The taxi hammered into the Capri, knocking its engine block back a full foot! Both vehicles jumped and skidded from the violent impact. A moment passed as Mr. Samuel shook off the bone jarring collision. He remained stationary only to see if Neilson was hurt - he wasn't – and to listen for his running engine. The taxi still ran.
He backed out of the wreck and the tires screamed out of the airport. Mr Samuel drove to La Bellefeuille Maison like a bat out of hell.
* * *
Samuel walked up to La Bellefeuille Maison's front doors. He had almost instinctively walked in... almost. He stopped himself and rang the doorbell.
No answer.
He rang the doorbell again. He could hear Veronica talking in the house. She wasn't answering! He began to pound on the door. He was losing his patience!
He was about to kick the door in in his rage when Veronica opened it.
The two kept eye contact for an uncomfortable moment. Samuel read the fear in Veronica's eyes. His countenance was still one of rage and impatience. He didn't want to frighten her. He had to act like he didn't know her. After all, Neilson hadn't met her yet.
“Mme. Francois?” he asked.
“Yes,” she answered with a slight sneer on her lips. “Prof. Neilson?”
“Yes,” he answered while entering the house uninvited. “Do you have the tape made for me?”
She attempted to offer hot beverages – tea or coffee. Samuel had no time for this. He needed the tape and needed it before the real Neilson arrived!
He argued with her. He was very near to losing his temper again and explode. He had wanted to explain but he simply didn't have the luxury of time on his side.
A kettle began to whistle. Tears welled up in Veronica's eyes. Samuel reached out telepathically. She was remembering her beloved and missing family. The memory had deeply hurt her. His rage and anger immediately abated and extinguished itself.
Veronica left to get the tape. Oh, how Samuel had wanted to hold her in his arms, to comfort her; to tell her the truth. But he knew his appearance right now was disgusting and vile. He knew the truth told right now, would cause more harm than good.
When she returned there were no longer tears in her eyes. She quietly handed the tape to Samuel.
The two fell silent and listened to the kettle. Samuel had wanted to say something. He felt so small. He felt he had bullied her into handing over the tape. He felt ashamed.
He began to say something but Veronica cut him off. She was protecting herself. He knew her well enough to know this much. She had cloaked her hurt and pain with bitter anger, and this blistering rage was aimed directly at him!
The Symbiot Page 12