by Ken Asamatsu
Herr Saga laughed aloud at Berger’s great revelation.
“Oh well done! Truly, you are a credit to the Third Reich’s Intelligence Corps! Martin Bormann was right to recommend you to the Führer. What an excellent demonstration of observation, analysis, and deduction. Your skills would prove useful in founding the glorious Fourth German Reich!”
The trunk Herr Saga held was now fully open. Crimson light bathed the interior of the special room.
The light and smoke made it seem as if the whole space was draped in red velvet.
And yet, what frightened Berger was that Herr Saga’s face, bathed in brilliant light as it was, was still obscured in shadow.
“Sadly, it appears you have come too close to the darkness that lies over the deep at the dawn of creation. Those who know too much must be disposed of. This is the lesson of myth.”
“And what of Inge?” Lt. Berger said, suddenly anxious about what he had done.
“Inge? You mean Eva, don’t you? Her name is Eva Braun. And mine is Adolf Hitler. We were married April 29th in Berlin, and immediately escaped through secret passages beneath Berlin. We reached Kiel and from there used the Reich’s most advanced secret weapons to escape to South America.
“Wh-what?”
“My struggle is eternal! It must go on! The will is a flame that burns without end! And thus will we bring the myth to fruition. The age of Christianity has continued for 2,000 years. Now begins the age of Will and Flame—my age! And the birth of a new age requires myths, myths sanctified with the spilling of blood!” The voice that spoke now was a familiar one, the voice of the Führer himself, who had killed himself in Berlin on April 29th.
But it was younger, more forceful... and more insane.
“You madman! You plan to impersonate the Führer! And... Inge will be your Eva Braun?”
“Impersonate? This is no child’s game! The Führer himself set this plan in motion. My resurrection was an incredibly delicate spiritual operation. Thirty of the SS elite were sent to the countryside of Flanders to search out the ruins of the temple of Ludwig Prinn. Twenty-two of them fell victim to the eldritch traps there, but our target was acquired. This, the Flame of the Philistines, as described in De Vermiis Mysteriis!”42
Herr Saga put his hands into the trunk and retrieved a clear orb. It was a crystal, about fifteen centimeters across. However, different from most crystal balls, it was slightly narrow on each side, giving it an oval shape. And it gave off a crimson light that was overwhelmingly, almost painfully bright.
“Behold. This sight will be your last. The great power within revived this body and soul after I was murdered by assassins in Czechoslovakia three years ago. And on the day of fate, this coming May 23rd, that power will flow into me!”
Herr Saga’s voice grew louder at this last remark, and he brought the orb of the Flame close to his uniformed chest as he spoke.
“Not if I have anything to say about it, you monster!” Lt. Berger lifted the table with his knee. The heavy mahogany table flipped forward and Herr Saga leaped back out of the way.
At that instant, Berger grabbed Inge’s hand to pull her forward, and went into action. He sprung over the table, and. when he landed, he hit the left side of Herr Saga’s chest with all his might. He felt as if he were punching through a stack of heavy paper, perhaps five or six layers thick. “Jump!” he ordered Inge.
A moment later Inge made it over the table, and he pulled again at her left hand.
“Run!” he shouted over his shoulder, and he did so himself.
Herr Saga made no attempt to give chase, or indeed to move at all. The injury from that one blow must have been greater than Berger thought.
The Flame fell from Saga’s hands. At the same time the captain collapsed with the sound of splattering rotted meat.
They pierced the veil of incense and left the special room.
When they passed under the curtain stretched across the stern, an alarm began to sound, and the lights started flashing dizzyingly.
The crew moved at once to battle stations and to prep torpedoes for launch. The boat was filled with steamy heat and palpable tension.
Lt. Berger and Inge passed through the narrow confines of the submarine, which was barely tall enough for an adult to stand upright, hurrying their way to the conning tower.
It’s like running through a sewer pipe.
When they finally arrived at the tower, Oberleutnant Leffer was at the periscope.
“What’s wrong? What’s happening?!” Berger asked, his voice loud.
“It has shown up again! Verdammt! We were nearly to Argent—” Leffer’s reply was interrupted by the submarine shuddering violently. The shaking came half from waves battering the sides and half from a terrible roaring.
“If we dive—” Inge began to say.
“We’ve no chance. It caught us going full speed on the surface.” Leffer said, and grabbed the microphone.
“Captain, captain.... This is an emergency!”
“It’s no good, the captain is dead. Saga killed him.” Berger spat, then turned to the iron ladder leading up to the bridge.
“Where are you going?” Inge shouted from the bottom of the ladder.
“I’m going out to the deck through the bridge, then I’m going to try unloading one of the deck guns into that cyclopean bastard,” Berger called down as he climbed.
Distant laughter came echoing up from far below his feet. Herr Saga’s voice. The laughter was soon followed by another sound, like a whispering cough, a rumbling moan.... Chanting, and it sounded so very close... .
Berger started to open the hatch to the bridge. He spun the wheel furiously until it was fully loose, then pushed. He pushed harder, and still harder... .
We’re at full speed, the sea must be washing over— But this thought was interrupted as the resistance vanished and the hatch sprung open, releasing a flood of seawater, soaking him from head to toe. It was colder than he had imagined and took his breath away for a moment. Yet he continued through the open hatch.
The wind hit Berger full in the face as he stood on the open deck. Then, from just behind his head, came a bestial roar unlike anything he’d ever heard. Berger started to spin round with a gasp, but froze looking over one shoulder when he saw it.
The sea beast.
It stood chest deep in the water. Its webbed claws and rugose face were stretching toward the U-boat.
Its lone left eye glowed crimson with hate and rage.
It’s not me! I don’t have your right eye.... He’s got it, in the ship! Berger found himself pleading silently with the beast.
Suddenly the hatch opened again, and a woman climbed out. Inge emerged nimbly and, unfazed by the massive beast, took the frozen Berger by the lapels and shook him.
“What are you doing, standing here staring?! That incense is spilling out of the special room and causing chaos! Herr Saga’s sorcery is changing U1313 and the crew faster than you could believe!”
“Uh... yes, that... that is very serious. But... how can we fight such a monster?”
“Ach, men! Why do you only think of fighting or dying?” Inge pursed her lips and gave Berger another violent shake.
“What? What are you talking about?”
“There is only one thing we can do right now. Jump into the sea and escape!”
“But if we go in the water that thing will get us for sure!”
“The beast is after its right eye. The only other thing on its mind is vengeance on Herr Saga. Nothing else matters to it! So, let’s go!”
Berger nodded slightly. He moved toward the side of the ship, with Inge standing shoulder to shoulder with him. They made ready to jump into the sea.
But before they could, the whole of U1313 was lifted into the air. The beast had seized the stern of the U-boat and lifted it in both arms.
&nb
sp; Berger and Inge were flung screaming toward the star-filled sky—and then hit the night black sea. Waves pounded their faces as they bobbed in the water, their eardrums resonating with the beast’s roaring.
And yet, even with their struggling, the events that followed were burned into their memories.
The beast held U131 high in the air, then cast it down onto a reef. The U-boat, however, was not so easily broken. It bounced off the rocks, then floated belly-up on the sea.
Orange smoke leaked from cracks in the hull, clearly the sorcerous incense from Herr Saga’s special room. The whole ship shuddered as if it were changing, becoming something... other. Something alien.
A hollow voice rang out from beyond the orange smoke.
“Iä! Iä! Cthugha! O foe of Nyarlathotep! O lord of the Flame! Lend me your power! Na! Zazas, zazas!”
But the profane incantation went unfinished, for the cyclopean nightmare churned the sea with its legs and pierced the smoke-enveloped U-boat with one massive, scaled claw.
It pulled its webbed hand from the ship, and it now held a shrieking monstrosity in an SS uniform. The sea beast twisted its writhing mouth into an expression that could only be called a smile.
The beast plucked a crimson crystal object from the monstrosity’s hands, then lifted it to the gaping domed cavity where its right eye had been. All this took but a moment.
Those things that happened next, the voice he heard and the words it said.... Until his dying day, Berger continued to believe they were hallucinations brought about by overwhelming terror.
That in truth, Erich Berger and Inge Welser were thrown from the U-boat they were riding when it ran aground on a reef about twenty kilometers from Mar del Plata, Argentina. That they floated for four hours until they were rescued by an Argentinian fishing boat. That U-boat 1313 was destroyed and all others on board were lost with it. The terrible, strange visions they had seen were all part of a dream they had lived during the four hours they waited for rescue, surely... .
For if that were not so, then how could such terrors, such things beyond the ken of man, occur in this modern year of 1945? How could it be that an SS general, who was supposed to have been assassinated in Czechoslovakia in 1942, should need to be killed yet again by a towering beast of the sea in Argentina in 1945?
Indeed, a dream.... And yet Berger could never forget those events, until his death at the hands of Mossad Nazi hunters in 1972.
After taking the Flame of the Philistines from the monstrosity on the submarine and returning it to its own eye socket, the forty-meter-high beast whispered these words in perfect German:
“SS-Obergruppenführer Reinhard Heydrich,43 Mage of Flame, servant of fire god Cthugha. Dagon, god of the Philistines, hath no forgiveness for children of men who dare to tread the threshold. Feel the fang of Dagon and rue thy hubris.”
Yet it was no voice they heard. It was thought, consciousness, will itself.... Whatever it was, it carried its message only to Berger, Inge, and Herr Sa— Heydrich.
When it had spoken thus, the beast’s furrowed face twisted again into an obscene smile.
It then flung Heydrich into its mouth, twisted and black as an ocean floor crevice. They could hear the screams of the long-dead sorcerer. The beast then sank beneath the waves, its massive mouth writhing in mirth.
They saw the U-boat swallowed by a huge whirlpool, but could only watch helplessly as the waves pushed them toward Mar del Plata.
Joscelyn Godwin, in his book Arktos: The Polar Myth in Science, Symbolism, and Nazi Survival, describes contemporary reports of Adolf Hitler and Eva Braun secretly escaping Berlin and landing at a supposed “New Berchtesgaden” in Antarctica. Such reports appeared in papers like the New York Times and the Chicago Tribune.
Dies Irae44
I cannot think of the deep sea without shuddering at the nameless things that may at this very moment be crawling and floundering on its slimy bed, worshipping their ancient stone idols and carving their own detestable likenesses on submarine obelisks of water-soaked granite. I dream of a day when they may rise above the billows to drag down in their reeking talons the remnants of puny, war-exhausted mankind—of a day when the land shall sink, and the dark ocean floor shall ascend amidst universal pandemonium.
—H. P. Lovecraft, Dagon
I
As they crossed the river Spree on the road toward Großer Stern, Claus heard a voice calling out behind them.
“It’s them! They’re here! We’re already under occupation!45 They’ve intercepted all of our thoughts, it’s all part of their plan!”
It was a middle-aged man’s voice. He was soon surrounded by police and Gestapo-looking men in black coats. The man started pushing, but was dragged away.
“What was that all about?” Lil Hollander asked.
“Nothing important. Just some madman making a racket. I imagine the stress of wartime was too much for him. He’ll settle down soon enough,” Claus answered.
Lil gave a little “Hmm” sound and squeezed his arm tighter.
He looked over at the diminutive woman and shook his head.
“Now now, we have a lot of patrols in this area. Don’t squeeze in so close to me!”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Lil quickly released his arm and moved a little way away.
“I do apologize, Oberst.” She said with excessive formality.
“Oh, stop. You needn’t be like that,” he said, smiling at her. The smile turned to a grimace, though, as he felt a migraine coming on.
“Are you alright? Does your head hurt again? Is it your old wound?” Lil asked. Her worry was palpable.
Claus rubbed his eye-patched face and forced a smile. “Yes, ...” he answered. She acts like the doting wife, he thought, but never a nag. She was so much more pleasant than his real wife, Gundi, who lived only for the Party and the fatherland, day and night.
“You know, lately I’ve been having the most terrible dreams myself. They’re so real, so detailed.... When I wake up, I often find myself thinking that this life is actually the dream.”
“Well, I believe I’m sufficient proof you aren’t dreaming now,” he said lightly, trying to ignore the agony in his head. Lil took on an earnest look.
“That’s right. But you’re not here every day, and I’m always so afraid.”
“It’s simply not possible to get a divorce at a time like this. If I did, I’d end up just like Kommandant Fritsch. You know him, don’t you? Being single at his age, he was denounced as a homosexual and removed. The higher-ups have it in for anyone in the Wehrmacht who still hasn’t joined the Party. And I—”
“That’s not what I meant. It’s my neighbors, that’s what’s so frightening. There’s always such a strange sound coming out of the room next to mine. Like some kind of industrial motor.”
“Do you think they’re spies?”
“No. The old man there has been a Party member for ages, and he’s well past sixty. He lives there with his granddaughter.”
“Well then, what’s the problem?”
“It’s just... something’s so strange. Any evening that motor sound comes, the telephone starts acting oddly. And I have these terrifying dreams....”
“It’s wartime paranoia. Everyone is feeling some fear and nervousness right now, wondering when the Allies are going to bomb Berlin to dust. Hmph. As if we would allow that to happen.”
They reached Großer Stern while they were talking. Lil would be going on to the Technical University of Berlin, where she worked, so here was where they parted ways.
“When will I see you again?” Lil asked.
“I’m not sure. I’m very busy right now working on a secret strategy proposal. I’ll contact you at your office when I can free up some time.”
“Promise. Promise it will be within the week.”
“Alright. I promise.”
/> “If not, then... never.... Oh, how I worry—”
Claus stopped Lil from speaking on with a kiss, and they parted.
Claus arrived at his office and got to work, his migraine unabated. The phone at his desk rang at precisely nine o’clock.
He was just looking over the revision proposals for the Atlantic Wall operation. Fortify the defensive line in Northern France, and construct a massive base somewhere in the region between Cherbourg and Dieppe—the document was full of such fanciful phrases, empty of real meaning but full of pomp and bravery, just like the Führer and Göring liked.
“There’s no doubt that the Allies will be well entrenched on the ground in France within the year. We estimate that the enemy targets will be in the areas nearest the Strait of Dover, thus Calais, Sangatte, or Boulogne-sur-Mer.” Claus scribbled in the margin in blue pen, then picked up the phone.
“Hier ist—”
“That will do. Just like that. Keep your face blank, Oberst.” A nervous voice interrupted Claus’s greeting.
“Is that—”
“Quiet. There could be someone listening in on another receiver. Look around and check.”
Claus glanced quickly around the office. He saw people yawning, people chatting and laughing with secretaries, people reading.... It was still early in the morning, and the office was almost empty. He could see everyone that had arrived, and no one was holding a phone receiver apart from himself.
“It’s fine, Field Marshal Rommel,” Claus whispered. He smiled naturally. He felt a swelling of warmth and pride in his chest. But the man known as the Desert Fox, the devilish Field Marshal feared by Churchill, gave him no time to indulge in sentimentality.
“You mustn’t say my name unless absolutely necessary. You know I’m supposed to be on my way to Normandy, but I am still in Berlin.”
“Understood.”
“Good. I suppose we aren’t being bugged. By the way, you’re still not a Party member. Are you sure the Gestapo and the SS aren’t watching you?”