Cthulhu Armageddon

by Phipps, C. T.

  “We should go now,” I said.

  “I’m sorry for offending you,” Mercury said. “Here, have a fresh suit of clothes. Your others are still, well, blood soaked.”

  It was a pair of jeans and a military-issue gray shirt. “Thank you. You’re surprisingly nice for a torturer.”

  Mercury’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t choose this life. It was chosen for me. What made you want to be a soldier, anyway? The glamour and glory of getting slaughtered by monsters?”

  “Hardly,” I said, reluctantly pulling on my new gray shirt. “It was mostly because of my father, I suppose. I wanted to prove myself worthy of his legacy.”

  “Your father who tried to kill you?” If there was any doubt that tact was not one of Doctor Takahashi’s virtues, it was laid to rest.

  “Yes.” I answered her question, savoring the clean desert air around us. “I guess I just always wanted to make him proud. I admit, though, there was also my not-inconsiderable desire to spite him. Becoming an R&E Ranger allowed me to illustrate who the better man was.”

  “He wasn’t your biological father, you know. It was in your file.” Mercury talked like her bringing it up was the most normal thing in the world.

  “I know,” I said, wondering where she got off thinking this was an appropriate topic for us to discuss.

  “Sorry. Do you know who your real father is?” Mercury asked almost immediately thereafter, apparently having no concept of privacy. “I mean, did you ever try to find him.”

  “My real father is Marcus Booth,” I snapped, a little too harshly. “He deserves that title as opposed to the bastard who slept with my mother.” Though, technically, I supposed it was I who was the bastard.

  “Again, sorry.” Mercury raised her hands defensively. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “You’re failing miserably.” Closing my eyes, I shook my head. “It’s alright, really. It’s an old pain, but one that has never entirely healed.”

  “I was pulled out of class when I was barely an adult to become a torturer, Booth.” Mercury bit her lip, her voice having the same twinge of desperation she had earlier. “I can barely remember what normal human reaction is sometimes. My husband was certainly no help there. The only reason I married him was because the whole selection process is fixed.”

  That was one of the more poorly kept secrets of the Remnant. Old and powerful families could select the best mates for their children and themselves. Politicians, especially, got the most attractive spouses available. In a way, I’d been lucky to end up with Martha instead of a seventy-two-year-old Councilwoman.

  “You rescued me, Mercury,” I said. I reluctantly used her first name instead of her title. “I owe you my life. That doesn’t mean we’re going to become friends on this trip. I have … other concerns which will take me away thereafter. We should probably avoid getting to know one another. Keep things professional.”

  Mercury lowered her gaze. “Fine. If that’s the way you want to be, we’ll just sit here in total silence.”

  I stepped into the driver’s seat of the jeep. “Good.”

  Mercury took a seat beside me, leaving behind my dirty clothes in the middle of the desert as we started off once more toward our destination. Noticing her miserable expression, I decided to speak to her. It was the least I could do, after all.

  “Alright, we can talk. Just not about my past.”

  “Good,” Mercury said. “Tell me about Kingsport. What’s it like?”

  “I have no idea.” I admitted, smiling at my little bit of misdirection.

  “What?” I could hear her enthusiasm deflate in an instant. “You said you could lead me there!”

  “I can. I didn’t say I’d actually been there, though,” I said, a wide grin on my face.

  Mercury looked stunned by my words. “You bastard!”

  Remembering our earlier conversation about my parentage, I said, “That would be literally true, yes.”

  Mercury cursed up a storm thereafter.

  I chuckled and pulled the jeep to a stop to take stock of our situation. The sun might come up in a few hours, or the night might last another ten. Night and day no longer functioned as they used to, the nature of reality having fundamentally changed with the Great Old Ones’ rising, but the darkness was our friend.

  The Remnant would undoubtedly send someone after us; the loss of a military-grade jeep was too great for them not to. However, they would hesitate to do so in total darkness. The Council of Leaders’ arrogance extended only so far when regarding the dangers of the Wasteland. As long as only the stars and moon illuminated our path, we could travel in relative safety.

  “So you mean you’ve never actually been?” Mercury was still having difficulty wrapping her head around the fact she’d been tricked. “You played me?”

  “That would be correct,” I said as I pulled out a pair of goggle-equipped masks from the glove compartment and tossed her one. “Here, put this on.”

  “What’s this?” Mercury stared at it blankly.

  “A dust mask,” I replied nonchalantly before affixing mine. “They’re standard issue for R&E Rangers and scavengers. We’ll need to get proper coverings for the rest of our bodies before we get too far out into the desert. We don’t want to be caught in a wind storm unprotected.”

  “Oh.” She looked at the hideous thing before reluctantly putting it on. Her voice was slightly lower once it was firmly affixed to her face. “Why the deception? You could have told me about a dozen other locations instead.”

  I was tempted to say, because you had me tied to a chair where I was at your mercy. Instead, I just pulled my dust mask on with one hand and said, “I didn’t lie to you. I’ve done reconnaissance of the city’s exterior and I’ve spoken to a number of its citizens. I just neglected to tell you I’ve never actually been inside the city limits.”

  The truth was the Council of Leaders had been less than pleased to discover Kingsport was a thriving community with a population rivaling New Arkham’s. They’d suppressed the information and there’d even been talk of war. Their ridiculous overreaction had been one of the major reasons I’d lost faith in the Council. What sort of leaders felt more threatened by their fellow humans than E.B.E.s?

  “What do you know about Kingsport, then?” Mercury was trying to hide her annoyance, which wasn’t difficult since the dust mask obscured most of her features, presenting only leather, rubber, and a pair of glowing green lenses. The mask’s night vision would provide us with additional visibility while we made our trek across the desert.

  “It’s a rebuilt city. The original populace died of war, plague, famine, and all the other usual ailments that followed the Rising. However, a number of enterprising warlords took over the ruins and fortified them. Somehow, they managed to regain electricity and other technological marvels. Strange lights constantly blink over the city, hence the name. It’s a place of cults, commerce, gambling, prostitution, science, slavery, and trade.”

  “That’s quite an assortment.” Mercury whistled, staring into the night, though that just might have been the goggles. “Are you sure this is the best place to take me?”

  “I can always take you back to New Arkham.” I gestured with the wheel, briefly turning it as we passed over a sand dune.

  “No!” Mercury pointed at me, her eyes blazing. “Don’t even joke about that, Booth.”

  Her reaction was a bit extreme for a woman who had, until recently, been one of the most securely placed citizens in New Arkham. “Alright.”

  “Will we get there tonight?” I could hear the anticipation in her voice; despite everything, she was excited about getting away from the Remnant. I wished I shared her enthusiasm.

  “Not a chance.” I said, my voice sounding somewhat sinister through the re-breather attached to the part of the mask near my chin. “The solar cells won’t hold out until then. Besides, we have to take our journey slow through infested areas. They’re too dangerous to go through at top speed. We’d run the risk of ban
dits, mutated desert predators, or voracious E.B.E.s.”

  “Oh. Couldn’t we just outrun them?”

  “No,” I replied, unhappy with an untrained civilian at my side. “Not the ones I know. Don’t worry, we won’t be camping out in the middle of the Wasteland. If our battery holds out, I’ll get us to Scrapyard before morning.”

  “Scrapyard?” She turned her head to stare out into the desert. “Did all naming convention go out the window when the world ended?”

  “It’s a scavengers’ village, just outside the desert. You’ll love it,” I replied, grinning under my mask. I was actually sure she’d hate the tough but insular community. “It’s between Mud Flats and Shit Town in Ghoul Pass.”

  “You’re making that up.”

  “I wish I was.”

  “Why there?”

  “It’s a good place. I admit, though, I’m going there for another reason.”

  “Which is?”

  “I need to consult with a ghoul.”

  Chapter Seven

  “You know a ghoul?” Mercury asked, sheer disbelief in her voice. “Like a dog-headed, baby-stealing, flesh-eating, ghoul?”

  “I don’t think Richard does any of those things. He is dog-headed, though.”

  Ghouls were one of the largest near-human species which inhabited the world we now lived in. They were a divergent race from humanity, having interbred with things from other worlds or been altered by them, so they were immortal and possessed powers akin to a werewolf (albeit never changed shape). They knew many things about the Great Old Ones and were not hostile to humanity.

  They did, of course, eat dead human bodies but that was because fresh meat was hard to obtain nowadays. At least, that was the argument Richard put forth. New Arkham’s other soldiers killed any ghouls they encountered, which wasn’t many or their race would have long since destroyed us. My friendship with Richard, by contrast, had yielded many dividends.

  “It has a name?” Her tone changed to one of complete disgust.

  “He has a name,” I corrected her. “Richard Allan Jameson. Richard grew up human but changed when he reached adulthood. A changeling.”

  Sometimes ghouls kidnapped human children, raised them as their own, and then sent them out to serve as agents among us. The ghoul children they left appeared as their own kind until their mid-thirties. It was paranoia-inducing to say the least, as something about their instincts always won in the end.

  “Booth, you realize knowing an E.B.E. on a personal level is treason.” She might as well have been reminding me water was wet.

  “Good thing I’m already a traitor.”

  Mercury was silent for a long time thereafter. Curiosity eventually won out over disgust, however. “So what’s he like?”

  “He’s a mechanic who likes music from the Pre-Rising era and loud Hawaiian shirts.” I leaned back in the jeep’s artificial leather seats, feeling the worn springs beneath.

  Mercury blinked twice. “Uh-huh.”

  I paused, wondering how to explain my friend in a manner that would be believed. “You’ll meet him soon enough. The people of Scrapyard have a cordial relationship with the ghouls. They don’t bother the ghouls and the ghouls don’t eat anybody who isn’t already dead.”

  “Charming,” Mercury said, looking disgusted.

  “I’ve seen worse arrangements.” I was serious. People did what they had to do to survive, no matter how personally distasteful. I was no fan of the ghouls but their relationship with Scrapyard was less exploitative than most. “In any case, Richard is a mystic of sorts. If anyone can help me find out if Jessica is still alive and what happened to my squadron in the Black Cathedral, it’s him.”

  “The Hawaiian-shirt-wearing ghoul.” Mercury repeated my description like she hoped it would sound less insane the second time around.

  “The Hawaiian-shirt-wearing ghoul,” I repeated. It didn’t sound any less crazy the third time around.

  Mercury paused, turning her attention back to the road. “What’s Hawaii?”

  “Some sort of Pre-Rising island paradise.” I’d seen a picture of it once. “The men and women wore flower necklaces.”

  “I’ve never been to an island,” Mercury said, clearly realizing there wasn’t much left to talk about in this particular conversation.

  “Neither have I,” I replied, staring out into the Wasteland. We’d finally come out of the Dust Zone and for that I was tremendously grateful.

  The land outside of the Dust Zone wasn’t much better but it was slightly less hellish. Brownish grass and sickly yellow-looking cacti dotted the landscape along with the occasional mutated animal. Doctor Takahashi took a particular interest in a two-headed-coyote pack that hunted a hairless rabbit litter.

  Surprisingly, we didn’t have any conflict with bandits or hostile nonhumans along the way. The way was unusually clear, especially for this time of year.

  Eventually, we started coming across ruins. Ancient dilapidated structures once inhabited by Pre-Rising humanity. They were an inescapable part of any Wasteland journey. Most Recon and Extermination Rangers cut their teeth on these particular ruins, looking for mutant stragglers or bandits hoping to intercept Remnant convoys.

  These structures, which included everything from gas stations to schools, were a mixed sight. Most were half-collapsed at best. Others were eerily perfect, as if their owners had just stepped out for the night. Driving past them on decaying roads and shattered streets was always a sobering experience, however. Everywhere were reminders of the days when humanity had been great and powerful.

  A couple of ruined towns we passed showed signs of the most insidious of fates to befall Old Earth humans: becoming tainted. These places still stank of rotting flesh and unnatural matter a century after terrifying mutations had taken their citizens. Their buildings showed signs of having been rebuilt with unclean materials—human bones and substances grown from the corpses of otherworldly monsters.

  Thankfully, these places were almost certainly uninhabited. The Remnant had slaughtered their residents in my grandfather’s time, leaving nothing alive which could remotely be called inhuman. Intelligent Mutants were not necessarily evil but a vast number of them were unable to handle their transformation—becoming enemies to humanity and everything else that lived. We had enough problems without having to deal with them.

  We were passing through the remains of something called a suburb, a seemingly endless row of identical houses each shattered in a different way, when Mercury asked me a strange question. “Booth, do you really think we don’t have a chance of making it?”

  “I wouldn’t be taking you if I didn’t think we’d get there.”

  “No. I mean the Rising.” Mercury stared at the horizon as a glint of light began peering over the edges. The sun was rising in the east, on time for once.

  “We already survived the Rising,” I muttered. “The fact we’re here is proof enough of that.”

  “This isn’t surviving. This is slowly dying out.” She gestured toward a billboard, still legible despite all odds. It said, “Welcome to Bloch Springs: A Model Community.”

  “I think we’re doomed, yes.” It wasn’t something I liked admitting but I wasn’t going to shy away from the facts either.

  “I was an interrogator, John. I can tell when you’re lying. What are you hiding?”

  I remembered Martha’s words about Doctor Ward’s experiments and couldn’t help but wonder if they were true. Had he discovered some way to change humanity into something which could survive? The West-Boys were nothing more than Reanimated cannon fodder but I’d survived the nightgaunt. What if he could save us? My men would have willingly died for something like that but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I wanted to kill him and the fact it would save the human race was meaningless to that fact. God, was this why we were doomed?

  “I think we could survive,” I said, clenching my teeth. “I just question whether the price would be our humanity.”

  “I see,” Mercury
said.

  “You asked.”

  “I did, didn’t I? Let’s move on. How many ruins are like this?” Mercury asked, thankfully distracting me from that line of thought.

  “You get used to seeing them after a while,” I lied again. “You shouldn’t worry so much about it.”

  “If I don’t worry about it then who will?” Mercury said.

  She had a point.

  The car then passed through an old half-ruined tunnel jutting out of a set of copper cliffs. The moment we exited the other side, I lightly applied the brakes. We were arriving at our destination sooner than we should have. What lay beyond was gorgeous.

  Stretching before us was Ghoul Pass, a place whose name did not encapsulate its loveliness. The canyon in which it rested was huge, stretching outward for at least a mile and a length closer to twenty. Far below in the valley, created by some Great Old Ones’ passage, were trees. Not the sickly brown or leafless things that sometimes clung to life in the Wasteland, but gorgeous green things which stretched into the air in defiance of the world’s end. A few trails of smoke emerged from the villages inside the valley, tiny enclaves of man in the otherwise wilderness-filled enclosure.

  Mercury’s mouth hung open in awe. “I don’t believe it. It’s … dreamlike.”

  “Dreams live in this world,” I said, agreeing with her. “For better or worse.”

  “I’ve never seen so much green in my life,” Mercury said.

  I rapidly put our vehicle in park and watched her step out to look over the cliff’s edge into the valley before.

  “People live there?” Mercury asked.

  “Yes.” I nodded, getting out of the car. “They’re a vassal state of the Dunwych tribes to the East. I don’t approve of them entirely. Their rites to their gods can get a little extreme. However, they’re overall a very ecological and self-sufficient people.”

  In fact, I had a very complicated relationship with the Dunwych. They’d held me prisoner for months and I’d learned to both respect and loathe them since they’d tried to make me one of them with the threat of death hanging over my head if I refused. I’d been forced to comply with the desires of their priestesses, forced to kill their enemies, and forced to put my mind so deep into their mindset I sometimes forgot I hated them. I’d managed to get away and back to New Arkham but the consequences still haunted me.