Here's one of my favorite stories of all I've written thus far. It's self-edited so you may find a few errors.
Phospheindz
Chapter 1
A Blood-curdling shriek pierces the
night, on the Quadrangle, of Brown University's campus. Seconds
later, Professor Charles Beauchamp, accompanied by two members of
campus security, is pounding on the door of room #212 in the
dormitory, Wilson Hall.
"Metcalf, Brian Metcalf, are you
in there?" Professor Beauchamp yells through the door. When he
receives no response, he says to one of the campus police, “You
better open it up. That scream came from this room.”
The door is immediately opened, and to
their astonishment, the room is empty of its occupant, only a vapor
or mist hangs in the air, in its center. On the floor, is a
leather-bound journal, with the seal of Brown embossed on the cover.
This is standard fare from any Ivy League university's book store.
Professor Beauchamp picks it up and tucks it under his arm.
"Perhaps we're mistaken, but from
what Metcalf said on the phone, he sounded as though he was seriously
freaking out, and on the verge of a total mental breakdown. That's
why I called and asked you to accompany me to his room. Now I hardly
know what to think. He may be running around campus ranting like a
madman. I think you should alert campus security to search for him."
"You bet Professor. We'll get
right on it. I sure hope he doesn't hurt himself or someone else,"
replies one of the policemen.
"He's never been a problem with us
before, and he's been here nearly six years," adds the other
policeman.
"Metcalf has been acting extremely
peculiar of late and may have suffered a breakdown over that damned
master's thesis he's been obsessing on."
"We'll do what we can and get back
to you ASAP with anything that turns up."
"Great, I'm going back to my
residence and look over this journal. It may give me a clue to what
is making him so frantic these last few weeks."
Beauchamp leaves the two policemen
standing in Metcalf's room and heads home. He lives in a brownstone,
albeit a small one, the university owns and uses as staff housing.
Brown owns many houses in the East Side area of Providence, that it's
acquired over the years. Beauchamp's is modest; only two bedrooms and
a bathroom upstairs and a parlor, library and kitchen downstairs. He
is a bachelor and quite comfortable in the house.
He settles into his favorite
leather-upholstered chair, by the fireplace, with a snifter of brandy
and takes a small, digital audio recorder from his jacket pocket, and
begins the following narrative:
"This is Dr. Charles Beauchamp,
head of the Psychology Department at Brown University. It is October
13, 2013.
"One of my graduate students,
Brian Metcalf, has been working on his master's thesis dealing with a
phenomenon experienced on the internal screen of the visual matrix,
i.e., what you see when you close your eyes. He had been working on
the thesis for six months with everything going smoothly up until a
few weeks ago, when he started showing signs of stress and mental
distress.
"It started with his being late
for class, in which he was acting as a student teacher. In the
beginning, I was not overtly concerned. I assumed he'd been spending
his nights with a certain young lady, who had made it quite clear, in
class, she was particularly interested in him.
"And why not; he is well built, 26
years old, with piercing blue eyes, and a charming way. I simply
thought the young lady had been keeping him up late with a college
romance. That turns out to be not at all the case. It seems he was
seeing the young lady for some time and then he cut it off abruptly,
for no apparent reason. It is these last few weeks since the breakup
that most concerns me.
"Always impeccably groomed, he now
looked unkempt, unshaven, and as though hadn't slept a wink in days.
He had lost weight, was constantly mumbling to himself and looking
around furtively, as though he suspected he was being followed.
"I had seen this pattern before in
students who had quickly become addicted to drugs.
"Metcalf, during the nearly six
years he's been here at Brown, has been a model student. Never
attending parties, never drinking, and spending most of his time in
the libraries. When he was involved with young women, they were
always like-minded and would spend much of their time in studies.
"This strange behavior began in
the last weeks of September. Being concerned for my star pupil, I
asked one of my other graduate students about Metcalf. I am told that
he spends all his time either in the libraries, on line researching,
or in his dorm working on a project that he refuses to discuss. When
I asked if Metcalf had taken up drugs, I am told, 'Metcalf wouldn't
take an aspirin or a drop a champagne for a toast'.
"So now, with his maniacal phone
call tonight, stating that he was sure he is being drawn into the
'phosphenic realms, and the scream we heard, just before we reached
his room, I see no alternative but to read through his journal, and
try to unravel what is going on with this young and promising
student."
Beauchamp turns off the recorder and
begins to leaf through the journal from the floor in Metcalf's room.
Excerpts from the Journal of Brian
Metcalf:
May 18th 2013:
I'm starting this journal to organize
my research for my master's thesis. I have decided, after months of
thought, to write on the inner mental screen.
What, exactly, is it, we see, when we
close out eyes?
Where does it originate from?
Is this a source of belief systems and
mythology?
What are the mechanics of these
swirling shapes and images we see when we close our eyes?
I intend to find out.
I'll list the different aspects of this
research that I must look into to clarify the true nature of this
well reported but little understood Phenomenon:
1.) The physical mechanics of the human
eye and its relationship to the inner screen.
2.) Is there a relationship between the
inner screen and the subconscious and dreams.
3.) The psychological implications that
this realm has to the Id, the ego, and the self/not-self perceptions.
4.) How this affects our perception of
the outer world.
5.) The theological implications of
this phenomenon.
6.) The metaphysical and Occult
implications of it.
I am truly excited to begin my
research. I am puzzled, however, by the seeming lack of research
already done in this area.
May 21st 2013:
I have begun my research and have found
some research had been done in the 1960's pertaining to the inner
screen. It would seem that the phosphorescent motes, populating the
inner screen, are known as phosphenes. Phosphene is described on the
Internet as follows:
A phosphene is an entoptic phenomenon
characterized by the experience of seeing light without light
actually entering the eye. The word phosphene comes from the Greek
words phos (light) and phainein (to show). Phosphenes are flashes of
light, often associated with optic neuritis, induced by movement or
sound. Phosphenes can be directly induced by mechanical, electrical,
or magnetic stimulation of the retina or visual cortex as well as by
random firing of cells in the visual system. Phosphenes have also
been reported by mediators (commonly called nimitta); people who go
for long periods without visual stimulation (also known as the
prisoner's cinema); or those who are using psychedelic drugs.
The nearest correlation in the external
world is the effect of Dayglo paints on a black field, illuminated
with a black light. There seems to have been an entire industry, in
the 1960's and 1970's, based on black-light posters. Most of the art
was fantastical and inspired by the use of hallucinogenic drugs.
Evidently the use of hallucinogens markedly enhance the production of
phosphenes and effects their organization into patterns and shapes. I
am now searching the Internet for images of these posters and artwork
collectively known as Psychedelic Art.
May 28th 2013:
A great week! I have started dating a
terrific girl named Becky Thornton. She's a psych major too, and we
have much in common. She is beautiful and intelligent, and she may be
the one.
Back to the thesis, I have found a
large number of images in the genre of Psychedelic Art. Many are in
the black-light style, but a fair number are not. I see that some of
the art is reminiscent of Tantric mandalas and the intricate
religious art of the Hindus and other Eastern religions.
Is there a correlation here between the
visions of the saints and Gnostic and the use of hallucinogens?
Further research is needed.
In my quest for inner screen imagery, I
have discovered some medieval art, by Hieronymus Bosch that could be
of inner screen origins, albeit from a much suppressed, guilt-ridden
mind set, typical of the overbearing influence of the Church, during
those times, when every man was a sinner, and guilt and penance was
the order of the day.
On an odd note, I also seem to have
found some disturbing....how should I put this? I guess portraits,
would best describe them, of entities that I can only assume are
perceptions for the inner eye. I must look into it further.
(Note: there are entries for each day,
but much of this material is off topic from the problems I seek
explanations for. Much is about Metcalf's everyday life in class and
his growing affection for Miss Thornton. There are pages and pages
solely devoted to their growing relationship and his love for Becky.
Near the end of the journal, at the time of the break-up and the
culmination of Metcalf's mental problems these two themes coincide
and I will report on those developments at the appropriate time.
C.B.)
May 30th 2013:
I have found some exciting new areas
relevant to my research. It seems that in the 1970's an Indian named
Satguru Maharaj Ji made a tour of the U.S. And was teaching some sort
of transcendental meditation. It involved a technique that consisted
of placing the thumb and middle finger on the outer edges of the
eyes, and gently pressing, while the index finger is pressed to the
forehead, above and between the eyes. The third eye, as I understand
it thus far, is stimulated and forms a golden oval that, with
meditation, along with this technique, will, with practice, open and
allow one to see with the mind's eye, similar to what is called
remote viewing today. Whereas remote viewing is used to view
locations in the external world, the third eye could also be used to
view the spiritual realms or the astral plane, as well as the
different levels of consciousness and the mind.
I find the Internet a superb research
tool that leads one search to other searches only vaguely related to
the original. I have not neglected the libraries at Brown and have
checked out books relating to Tantric Meditation, Gnosticism,
Transcendental Medication, Kundalini Yoga, Sikhism, Astral
Projection, the Third Eye and Mahayana Buddhism (Zen) as well as a
few books on mysticism, both the Christian mystics and Zoroastrians.
Professor Beauchamp stops dictating
into his DAR and puts down the journal to answer his cellphone.
Chapter 2
"Hello, Charles Beauchamp here,"
he says.
"Oh Professor, I'm so worried
about Brian. He seems to have disappeared!" cries a voice on the
phone.
"Who is this?"
"Oh I'm sorry Professor, I am
Becky Thornton. I was engaged to Brian until a few weeks ago, when he
broke off the engagement for no reason he would explain. I've been
heart-broken and very concerned for Brian. I think he may be going
insane," Becky blurts out before breaking down into sobs.
" Easy, my dear, we should meet to
discuss this. What say we have coffee in the dining hall in thirty
minutes? It's nearly nine now--let's say nine-thirty," suggests
Beauchamp.
" Thank you, Professor, I have to
talk to someone about Brian's recent behavior. The other girls in the
dorm just think he's dumped me for someone else, but I know the
problem is his damned research he's been obsessing over. It's
destroyed our relationship, and it's destroying him.
"I'll see you in thirty,"
Becky manages to convey between great shuddering sobs.
"Okay, see you then," says
Beauchamp as he hangs up.
What could be going on with Metcalf, he
asks himself. Becky Thornton is a delightful creature, and any man
would surely have to be insane to abandon her. The mystery deepens,
he thinks to himself, as he gets his coat and hat, and leaves for the
rendezvous.
He enters the dining hall, orders a
triple espresso and sits where he can see the door, since he is a
little early, and has arrived before Becky.
When she enters, he meets her at the
door, orders a coffee, the same as his, and they proceed to a
secluded table.
Becky, Rebecca Thornton, has been a
student at Brown for three years, after graduating from Cranston High
with honors. She decided to major in psychology and has been
attending Professor Beauchamp's classes ever since. It was there she
had met Brian Metcalf, and soon she was infatuated with him. After
dropping many hints, she would like to get together with him, he
finally got the message, and they had been dating since May. They got
serious, and he asked her to marry him in July. Everything was
perfect, until in mid-September, when Brian began to act very
strangely.
"He had gotten some old books from
the John Hay Library on campus. They were about occult practices and
mysticism," Becky started, "He began chanting what he
called mantras, and doing meditation and go into trances. That in
itself was not the problem, but he began to have disturbing visions
in these trances, and sometimes wouldn't recognize me when he came
out of them. It was almost as though he was sleep-walking; it was
eerie. I asked him to stop, but he just laughed and said he was on
the verge of a great breakthrough, in the field of psychology, and
his discoveries would make him famous and rich.
"It was at this time he began to
treat me coldly, no longer the loving, affectionate man I knew. It
was like he was another person, at times, and at other times, he was
his old self.
"Then, about a week and a half
later, I was waiting for him in his room, to come out of a trance. I
was using his laptop to answer some emails, when he suddenly jumps up
from the lotus position, he sits in while meditating, with a maniacal
look on his face. I swear, he looked possessed. He threw me down on
the bed and violently raped me. He clawed at my breasts and bit my
shoulder and howled like a beast when he climaxed. Then he grabbed me
by the hair and roughly flipped me over and violated me from behind.
"When he was done he collapsed in
a chair and left me on the bed bleeding and crying.
"He was unconscious when I ran
from the room, and when I got back to the dorm, while I was debating
whether to call the police, he called my cell and said he was
terribly sorry for the way he had abused me, and that his research
had become too dangerous for us to continue our relationship, and we
should not see each other again. That was about three weeks ago. I
still have bruises and soreness from his assault. Then, tonight, the
campus police came to my room, asking if I had seen him. They said he
was missing after some disturbance in his room.
"Professor, what is going on?
What's happening to him? Can you help me find out?
"I still love him, even after
what's happened and I want the old Brian back."
She took a sip of coffee and began
quietly weeping.
"Becky, I will help, in any way I
can, find out what's happened to Brian," said Beauchamp.
"I know he's been acting very
strangely lately, and I was reading his journal, I found in his room,
just when you called. It sounds as though he has delved into some
pretty deep metaphysical stuff of late. All the chanting and
medication may have unbalanced his mind. I dare say his assault on
you is completely out of character for him. His fellows call him
Milquetoast Metcalf he is so meek and gentle. Are you sure he hasn't
been taking any drugs?"
"Oh no professor, he won't even
have a glass of wine with me. Whatever is happening to him is a
result of his research," she whimpers.
"All right then, you go home and
get some rest, and I'll contact the campus police and see if they've
found him. If not, I'll swing by his room and take a look at these
rare books he has, and see if I can sort any of this out."
He gave Becky a reassuring hug, and
they went their separate ways; she back to the dorm and he to the
campus police office.
Chapter 3
The campus police had not found Brian,
but had received several reports of a glowing form--some called it a
ghost--at different locals around the campus. The police tried to
laugh it off, but one account was reported by a hysterical young
woman, who had been running, and had been assaulted by the ghost. It
had torn her clothing off, below the waist, and was attempting to
have intercourse with her when it just faded out. After that, the
other reports seemed more feasible. Two of the sightings had been
before groups of six to ten students, and all swore the apparition
was real.
Beauchamp saw no connection between the
incidents and Metcalf, so he requested a key to Metcalf's room. They
readily complied with him although it was a breach of university
policy to give out keys. He had worked with campus police on other
occasions, to help solve strange happenings on campus, and a few
crimes.
He went to Metcalf's room and did
indeed find some strange and unusual literature.
He found a tome on Kundalini Yoga and
the Chakras, that showed how to open the mind's eye and unleash
something called "The Serpent Power", authored by a man
called Leadbeater. A book on Tantric Mantra and sexual yoga, a
treatise on astral planes and how to travel there, a book on the
occult subject of Scrying and Farsight.
There was a book on how to communicate
with spiritual beings in different realms, a book on Zen called "On
Transmission of Mind" by Huang Po, "The Center of the
Cyclone" by John Lily. The Necronomicon, a Book of Shadows by a
witch who was burned in Salem, a book on opening dimensional portals,
and a book on demons and angels. There were several written in a
language he didn't recognize, and one that appeared to be bound in
human skin. He got a shiver just touching the last, and a general
sense of forbidden knowledge and evil from the lot of them. He packed
them into a convenient gym bag, And, as a final thought, took
Metcalf's laptop too. He left a note, should Metcalf return, stating
the grave concern he felt for him and had taken the research material
to try and unravel the mystery.
Across campus, a couple of lovers is
walking by the athletics field enjoying the cool evening and the
crescent moon. Just as they pause for a kiss they hear a sound like
howling wind and static electricity crackling. This is accompanied by
a long wailing moan.
Suddenly, there is a glowing oval of
golden light with a silver disc in the center, surrounded by a
stomach-churning Moire of phosphorescent colors. Abruptly a figure
appears, attached at the forehead to the silver disc. The figure
seems to float for a moment, with knees bent off the ground, held up
only by contact with the silver disc. With a sickening flash, the
oval and the disc disappear, and the figure drops to the ground.
Terrified, the pair quickly call campus
police and send a photo, using their phone, of the figure to the
police. The couple stay nearby, but not too close, until the police
arrive.
The figure on the ground is obviously
injured. He has gashes and flaps of skin covering his torso and
limbs. His clothes are in shreds, and, in addition to the capacious
blood, he seems to be covered in mucus or phlegm, great gobs of it,
and it stinks with some extremely foul but unidentifiable odor.
When the police arrive, they call the
paramedics, and, in a few minutes, the man is rushed to St. Joseph's
Hospital. The man was cleaned up, with samples of the ichorous
material saved for analysis, and found to be in relatively decent
condition, contrary to first appearances.
All his injuries, although extensive,
are essentially superficial, with no internal injuries, contusions or
concussion, or any broken bones. After two hours of stitching and two
pints of blood, the patient was resting comfortably, under sedation,
in a private room.
The police, understandably, think this
is Brian Metcalf, and they are correct. They contact Professor
Beauchamp, as Metcalf had no relatives who could be reached, and
those he has, are on the west coast. He calls Becky, and they meet
with the treating physician, in the visitor's lounge.
"Hi, my name is Dr. Jawoski and
I've just come from treating Mr. Metcalf."
"I'm Professor Beauchamp, and
this, is Miss Thornton, Mr Metcalf's fiancee. What's the nature of
Brian's injuries?"
"To tell the truth, I've never
seen anything like it before. He was found covered with mucilage of
some sort, and he has dozens of wounds covering his body. All the
wounds were only to the skin but were extensive enough to require a
few pints of blood to save him. Aside from that he has no other
injuries. He required something in the range of twelve hundred
stitches to patch him up. We have him sedated. If you like you can
peek in on him, but he won't be awake until sometime tomorrow
evening."
"You said mucilage, is that
correct doctor?" asks Beauchamp.
"Yes, very puzzling. We will have
it analyzed to determine what exactly it is, but right now I haven't
a clue."
Beauchamp and Becky look in on Brian,
and are astounded by the number of sutures and staples that cover his
body. He is not in a regular hospital bed, but one of the new
floatation beds, used for severe burn victims. He floats in an
oxygen-rich solution suspended by lightweight slings hung from a
framework over the bed. Metcalf is wearing only a very brief pair of
shorts, and there is an oxygen mask covering his face. This setup
allows him to heal without the weight of his body pressing down on
his many wounds. A traditional bed would have caused the wounds to
split open and invite infection. Luckily, St. Joseph's Hospital
prided itself on its special burn victim unit, and apparently a bed
had been borrowed from there.
"My god! What could have done that
to him," gasps Becky, "You don't think he did that to
himself do you Professor?"
"Heavens no, he couldn't have,"
says Beauchamp. "I can see why they heavily sedated him. I
imagine he's in considerable pain. We can only pray that he recovers
both in body and mind. The poor bastard looks as though he's been
dragged through hell."
"How could this have happened,
Professor?"
"We'll know more when we can talk
to him, and analysis of the mucus, he was covered in, comes back.
He's in good hands and is safe here. I suggest you get some rest, and
I'll read more of his journal and try to discover what the hell has
been going on."
Becky nods in agreement and the
Professor calls a taxi to take her back to her dorm. He drives his
old Renault back to his house and dives into the journal and the
books.
Chapter 4
(Beauchamp's DAR)
Oct. 14th 2013:
"This is a continuation of the
narrative begun earlier this evening. I have just returned from St
Joseph's Hospital. Campus police got a call around ten thirty pm
reporting a man suffering from severe lacerations. This was
accompanied by a photo from the cell phone by one of the callers. The
man was Brian Metcalf, and he was in dire need of emergency medical
treatment. When it was sorted out, as much as it could be under such
bizarre and horrific circumstances, he was admitted to St Joe's with
extensive lacerations over his entire body which required over twelve
hundred sutures and staples to close. When I left the hospital,
shortly after 1:30 am., he was heavily sedated and not expected to
awaken until early evening. Clearly, something extraordinary has
happened to the boy.
"It's my hope that further study
of his journal sheds some light on the subject."
(Excerpts from the Journal of Brian
Metcalf continue.)
June 3rd 2013:
After reading several books on the
third eye, astral travel, the spiritual realms and meditation, I
intend to begin training myself to meditate, with the goal of
eventually opening the third eye and doing some astral travel. It
seems these things are rumored to take years to master, but I am
convinced that, with scientific reasoning and methodology, I can
accelerate the time it takes to achieve results. There are warnings
about dangers using these techniques, but I believe much of it is
superstition, and to maintain the mystery surrounding the
closely-kept, secret techniques. In ancient times, when most of this
lore was written, there was a belief in all manner of deities,
entities, demons and spirits surrounding these practices, but this is
the twenty first century and man has intellectually matured, and we
are no longer afraid of things that go bump in the night.
June 9th 2013:
I have begun a strict regime of
meditation and fasting. I meditate four hours in the morning before
school, drink a quick protein/energy drink and do four more hours
after class until Becky comes by in the evening. I visit with her for
a while, perhaps eat a light salad with her, and when she leaves
around ten or so, I meditate for two to three hours more.
The meditation has progressed
splendidly, and I can almost go into a kind of waking trance. I have
experienced a phantasmagorical array of shapes and colors, patterns
and even numbers floating across my inner screen. There also seems to
be shapes moving around the periphery that I can't quite bring into
focus.
My attempt to open the third eye are
not as successful, thus far, but I have been able to visualize the
golden oval, with the silver disc at its center, but that is all. I
am unable to make it congeal into the shape of an eye and to open
with a view of the astral plane. I never expected this to happen
quickly, and I am still hopeful that, with a few months of practice,
this will be achieved.
June 14th 2013:
Things are progressing nicely on all
fronts! My relationship with Becky is pure bliss. I intend to ask her
to marry me on the 4th of July. I've gotten a ring, and I see no
reason why she'd deny me. My meditations are hugely successful. I now
slip into a deep trance in a remarkably short time and am utterly
oblivious to the external world around me while in it. I think I am
on the verge of some revelation of a spiritual kind. I plan to
continue with these practices, meditation, and the opening of the
third eye until shortly after the 4th. I will then try some of the
exercises in Mr. Leadbeater's book on the Chakras and Kundalini.
July 5th 2013:
I've asked Becky to be my wife, and she
said YES!! I can't believe what a lucky guy I am to be marrying her.
I have had some success with opening
the third eye, but, as yet, all I see is unrecognizable landscapes.
Some earthly, and others alien. I also see figures moving in the
scenes, both creatures and people. It is still as though I look from
a great distance, and it's difficult to bring it into focus. I have
begun the Kundalini exercises which consist of meditation on each of
the chakras with the intention of starting with the lowest chakra and
progressing to the highest. The ultimate goal is to cycle through the
chakras from lowest to highest until something called the "serpent
energy" is released. This is alleged to give the ability to
project the mind into higher states of consciousness and travel to
spiritual realms.
July 12th 2013:
I've read all the books I've gathered
up and am now convinced that all disciplines are related, in as much
as, all the experiences described originate from the same place, the
inner world. Oddly, the works on black magic and the occult contend
that certain entities, from the inner world, can be summoned into the
outer world. I must admit some skepticism, but I was also skeptical
at the start about the trances and the third eye. Some of the Hindu
books actually claim that certain deities, even gods, can be summoned
through chanting mantras; fascinating!
As a result of the meditations, I seem
to require much less sleep, only and hour or two. I'm in a constant
state of heightened awareness, as though I can see one layer deeper
into the visual matrix of the outer world. Colors are brighter and
there are intricate patterns everywhere, that I was not aware of
before. Everything seems to be alive and vibrating. Feelings and
perceptions are far more intense and vibrant.
"I've read Metcalf's journal up
till mid July and everything seems quite normal, except for the fact
that he seems to have drifted a bit from his original plan of
explaining the internal screen; but not necessarily. He is involved
in researching the different historical aspects and traditions
surrounding the inner world experience.
"I'll know more when I talk to him
later this evening. It's well after 3:00 am, and I have a lecture at
9:00 am."
Professor Beauchamp retires, wakes, and
delivers his presentation in the morning. When he's finished with his
academic responsibilities, he stops by the campus security office,
and tries to ascertain the circumstances in which Brian Metcalf had
been found.
"It's the damnedest thing,
Professor," says Toni Johnson, director of campus security, "The
kids who found him swear that he just appeared out of thin air. They
say he just floated for a few seconds, and then there was a flash of
light that made them nauseous, and he hit the ground. They sent this
picture with the call."
Ms. Johnson shows Beauchamp a computer
print taken from the kids phone. It showed a figure crumpled on the
ground covered with a strange yellowish/greenish muck and blood. He
appeared to be wet aside from that caused by the blood and muck.
There is a faint phosphorescent glow, in the orange/pink range,
surrounding Metcalf and hugging his form; extending out roughly 10-12
inches.
"Wow, he sure looks a mess,"
Beauchamp says, "I wonder where that muck and glow comes from?"
"I don't know, but the kids swear
he just appeared. First they saw a golden cloud with a hole in the
center, then a silver disc appeared in the hole, and then Metcalf
floating with his forehead touching the disc. Then there was quote,
'a sickening flash of light' and he hit the turf. Paramedics arrived
about two minutes after my people got there. He wasn't even
breathing, until, the paramedics cleared that muck, covering his
face; then he inhaled with a long shuddering gasp and started
breathing regularly. He was cold too; the PMs said he was very cold."
"This is the most incredible thing
I've ever seen. I think I'll wander over to St Joe's and see what the
lab has come up with on that muck."
"Please, let me know what you find
out. This is the most baffling thing I've ever seen on campus, and
believe me, I've seen some weird shit from these college students. I
remember one time, in the early 70's, when I was just a rookie, this
kid in Spanish Inquisition robe and hood, made of brown Naugahyde,
was walking around campus with a gallon of mayonnaise that had been
spiked with LSD. Well he dosed about half the campus before....."
"I'm sure it's a gripping story,
Toni, but I fear current matters are more pressing," interrupts
Beauchamp, "I'll call you when I find out more."
With that, he leaves to get his trusty
Renault for the jaunt to St. Joseph's a few miles distant.
St. Joseph's Hospital has the most
advanced group of labs in all of New England, with the exception of
Boston General, with top biologists, immunologist, and toxicologists
in the country working there. So, it was both a stroke of luck and a
deeper mystery that a leading herpetologist was on hand for a
workshop on reptile venom. He was touring the labs, when, some of the
mucus or muck, that had covered Metcalf, was being viewed with the
use of an electron microscope.
"This is our toxicology labs;
we're proud of our new electron microscope, we've just purchased,"
says Saul Bergman, the Executive Director of the hospital, to Jim
Eagan, the visiting herpetologist, "Say, what are you gents
looking at today?"
"Not quite sure," says Truman
Vang, the resident toxicologist, "We got this sample from a very
strange case."
He explains how Metcalf had been found
covered with it.
"Mind if I take a look?" asks
Eagan.
"It appears to be mucus of some
sort," injects one of the lab techies pondering the mystery.
"You boys are in luck,"
smirks Eagan, "I was analyzing samples much like this just last
week in Phoenix. You say this guy was covered with this stuff?"
"That's right," says Vang,
"He was nearly drowned in it, covered with a thick coat from
head to foot."
"Wow that's very unusual."
"And why is that?" asks Vang.
"Because this mucilage is usually
seen in much smaller quantities."
"But you can identify it?"
"Why, yes. If you increase the
magnification you'll clearly see the masses of dead white blood cells
that this is largely composed of," says Eagan.
The lab tech increases the
magnification, so the individual cells were visible.
"See," says Eagan, "The
shape of the cells is unmistakable, but surely you must have mixed up
the samples or contaminated it somehow."
"Why do you say that?" asks
Vang, a bit annoyed by the accusation of incompetence.
"Why, because this, my friends, is
the lubricant that is secreted when a reptile lays eggs. It
lubricates the egg canal to aid in the laying," says Eagan,
"Even in large sea turtles or alligators only maybe half a pint
is produced. So whatever produced the quantity you describe must have
been enormous."
"What about a very large
Anaconda?" Asks Vang.
"Well it would have to be very
large indeed. Probably in the neighborhood of 80-100 feet laying eggs
the size of watermelons."
They all just stared at the screen
wordlessly pondering the possibility of a 100 foot snake, running
loose on the East Side.
Chapter 5
Beauchamp arrives at the hospital and
is met at the desk by Vang. He told the story of the analysis of the
mucus.
"My God, there has to be some
mistake Vang!"
"I wish there was Professor. We
doubted it too, so we logged on to the species identification data
base, maintained by the Smithsonian, and found the identical stuff.
We managed to narrow the identification to monitor lizards. The match
was nearly perfect, close enough to where there is no doubt
whatsoever that it came from an extraordinarily large lizard.
"There is one thing, though, when
I say the match is nearly perfect, although the sample we have, and
the one at the Smithsonian, are identical, they are mirror images of
themselves. The chains of organic molecules, on which they are
composed, are arranged on the carbon ring diametrically opposite.
We've never run into this before, Professor, Where did it come from?"
"I wish I knew, Vang, I wish I
knew."
Vang just walks away shaking his head.
Beauchamp goes to the third-floor office of Dr. Jawoski. He taps on
the door and is invited in.
"Hi doc, how's Mr Metcalf doing
today?"
"Hello Professor," says Dr.
Jawoski, "Very hard to tell at this point. There have been a few
developments over night. Our patient seems to be healing at an
accelerated rate, but, he is running a high fever. Some of the wounds
are nearly healed, in fact, most of them, with the exception of the
one on his forehead. That one seems to be infected, and may be
ulcerating the skull below it. We may have to operate and excise the
thing. A Very unusual case."
"It would seem everything about
this case is highly irregular. Will he be waking later this
afternoon?"
"I do believe so, unless that head
wound infection gets into his brain; then he may lapse into a coma.
But we'll try our best to prevent that from happening."
"I'll check back around dinner
time and see how things are progressing."
"Great Professor, thanks for
stopping by."
Beauchamp left Jawoski's office a
troubled man. This was turning into some sort of Lovecraftian horror
show. He didn't like it a bit. Out of desperation, he stops by the
office of his colleague, a professor of Eastern Studies.
Professor Mohararabadim is an old
Brahman from India. He is an expert on eastern religions and
spiritualism.
Professor Mohararabadim is an unusual
character. He dresses like a refugee from the 1970's with wide
collars, lapels and ties. He usually wears a pair of bell-bottoms
polyester pants patterned in one type of brown plaid or another and
always a bit too short for his 6' 2" frame. He always wears a
stripped shirt and a Paisley vest, and a sport jacket with suede
patches on the elbows. This is topped off with a blue turban with a
ruby broach at the front. On his feet, he wears black boots with
raised heels and zippers, commonly know as "Beatle Boots".
He is in his 80's, but could pass for his 40's, on a good day. He has
been at Brown as long as Beauchamp can remember, who had been there
for 16 years.
Perhaps Mohararabadim would shed some
light on the Metcalf situation, or so he hoped.
Mo (Mohararabadim's nick name) was
sitting in a sunny window enjoying a smoke in his Meerschaum pipe. It
smells as though he was taking a bit of ganja after lunch.
"What in the hell are you
smoking?" asked Beauchamp.
"Just a little something for my
glaucoma, perfectly legal I assure you," he answers and giggles
a little. "What brings you to my lowly office, Professor
Beauchamp?"
"Well Mo, I have a grad student
that has been acting very strangely, and has had some sort of
accident. I thought you may shed some light on the problem, since it
includes meditation, chakras, and kundalini, as well as a little Zen,
and maybe black magic."
"Oh, Professor B, that is a vedy,
vedy bad combination of metaphysics to be tampering with. Kundalini
alone is very dangerous indeed."
"How so, Mo? I thought all those
meditation techniques were relatively harmless."
"Not true, Professor B. Many have
been outlawed in my country. I'm sure you're aware that Dervishism
and Shiva worship were banned nearly 100 years ago, and other, lesser
known practices have also been outlawed. Some are vedy evil, others
are just too dangerous to the practitioners. If this young man has
gotten involved with the wrong combination of techniques, his life
may be in considerable danger.
"The cult of Kali turns men into
mindless slaves to the priests who are possessed by demons. There are
many evil entities to be encountered in the mystical realms. They are
vedy cunning and not easily avoided. Once one of them fixates on a
pilgrim, they are vedy difficult to be rid of. The elimination of
such entities is vedy costly and not always successful. Many times
the person must die to be free. According mythology in the
Mahabharata, a famous battle was fought, many thousands of years ago,
to expel such demons from theis world. The Victors, Lord Krishna and
Arajuna, drove them all into the astral world. They are still there
and always eager to return.
"That world was occupied by even
older, more evil, alien gods, from before the time of man. These gods
are so powerful and evil the demons are terrified and are desperate
to get back into this world. These elder gods are not from here, I
mean to say, not from the astral world linked to the minds of men.
They are invaders from another dimensional universe. Their goal, just
as the demons, is to break into the physical world and twist the
universe to their will. Certain rituals and practices can open a
gateway, so both they and the demons can enter the physical world. If
an odd demon, here and there, gets through, it's not so bad, except
for the person possessed. But were one of the 'Old Ones', the
Eldritch Gods, get through it has the power to keep the gateway open
and that will lead to the end of everything."
"Wow, that's some heavy shit.
Surely none of that involves my grad student, Mo."
"I have seen proof of some vedy
unusual things, in my eighty-seven years, in this world, Professor
B., and I have felt a powerful ripple running through this world,
from the other, in just these past few days. Something vedy much
unwanted is trying to happen."
"You're scaring the shit out of me
Mo," says Beauchamp, "In fact, the more I think about it,
the more convinced I am that Metcalf is dabbling in waters way over
his head."
Beauchamp relates the events of the
last day to Mo, and the old Brahman sits quietly for a few minutes,
puffing on his Meerschaum. Finally, he speaks in a low tone, almost a
whisper.
"Professor B., I can tell you what
is happening to this Metcalf person. He has attracted the attention
of both demons and one of the Old Ones. Let me explain. It would seem
that he was pulled into the astral plane, through the powers of an
Eldritch God, the demons are too weak to do this. They are, however,
capable of possessing flesh. That is where the wounds are from. Each
injury is where a demon has entered his flesh while in the astral
world. This man may have had many demons in his body at one point.
The viscous mucus that covered him, is from the body of one of the
old gods, who tried to be born into his flesh and to manifest in this
world. Perhaps the fact his flesh was already violated by the demons,
when this attempt was made, caused all involved to fail and when
Metcalf was expelled from the belly of the Old God, he may have come
back alone. The festering wound on his forehead is from both the
demons and the old one, trying to maintain their connection to the
flesh, through the third eye, so they can make another attempted
break through into the physical world. This young man is doomed, he
must be killed at once, to prevent any disaster from happening."
"Surely there must be some other
way to deal with this. We don't even know for sure that what I said
is true. We can't just kill students based on wild theory."
"Actually it happens quite often
around the world. Not so much in America, but in the poorer
countries, where evil has a greater opportunity to enter the world,
many, many people are killed each year for just such reasons. The
last time the old ones were loose in the world they were responsible
for the destruction of all the sentient species on this planet. Man
evolved after they were expelled and much time had passed. They must
not be allowed access to this world, through your student, Metcalf.
"Perhaps Professor B, God will
take care of this problem, and the young man's fever will kill him,
before the evil ones can muster the energy for another assault."
He goes to a book shelf and pulls down
an ancient tome written in Sanskrit, and pores over several tables
and charts within it. He turns to Beauchamp and continues.
"The astronomical conditions, for
another attempt, will be vedy, vedy favorable, in just three days
time. Unless the young man has died before then, they will have the
most favorable conditions to open the gateway that has occurred in
the last twenty-three hundred years. It would seem, Professor B, that
Mr. Metcalf chose the most unfavorable of times to begin his studies.
He couldn't have chosen a worst time if he tried. You look very pale,
Professor B, perhaps you need to have a cup of Chai and a few puffs
on my Meerschaum."
Beauchamp gets back from
Mohararabadim's office and goes to his small bar set up on an antique
sideboard in his library. His hand trembles as he pours a generous
amount, of his strongest liquor, into a glass. He downs it in a
single gulp and collapses into his favorite chair. It's early
afternoon, but he feels like he hasn't slept in years. Was it truly
only last night that this nightmare began? How could Metcalf have
gotten himself in such a mess, in the course of routine research?
Something else must have happened to explain it. He returns to
Metcalf's journal to try and find a clue.
Chapter 6
July 17th 2013:
Another breakthrough. I have actually
made contact with an entity from the astral plane!
He's a small blue fellow dressed like
something from a Bollywood video, with the embroidered vest,
pantaloons, slippers and jewelry. I did not have a conversation with
him, he just dances before my gaze. With each movement of his dance,
he pauses for an instant, and when he does, it seems that a ripple,
as with a stone cast into a pond, but on the vertical, would emanate
from him and spread through all the universe. I feel that each ripple
is a wave of the creative force of the universe and that his dance is
an ongoing re-creation of space and time, with all its diversity and
grandeur.
Becky gave me a splendid, hand-woven,
wool rug, with an elaborate five point mandala in it. It is much more
comfortable to meditate on the rug than the cold floor.
July 23rd 2013:
I have not seen any other entities in
the astral world, nor has the blue being returned. I have been
practicing the Kundalini exercises and actually feel a power rising
up my spine. That is supposedly a sign of the serpent power rising.
My third eye has stabilized to the point where I can effectively will
it into being, with just a few minutes of concentration.
Becky has begun to spend more time with
me while I meditate, and it's tremendously gratifying to come out of
a trance and see her smiling face.
Aug 1st 2013
I am beginning to experience some
strange phenomenon during my non-meditation times. It would seem,
that, when I close my eyes, in the course of normal activities, there
are eyes and faces watching me from the astral realm. Just this
morning, I closed my eyes for a second and was startled when I was
confronted with the visage of some sort of demonic creature, on my
inner screen. He was remarkably close, as though we were nose to
nose. It was oddly disquieting. In fact, it scared the hell out of
me.
Aug 9th 2013:
I am spending more time in a meditative
trance, and am getting more concerned by the leering faces, that
manifest when I am not meditating. It's as though I have
counter-parts in the astral world, who are meditating on this world,
and vicariously viewing it through me. Some are peaceful and pleasant
looking, others are horrendous abominations of the human form. I am
now getting hardly any rest as the faces disturb me when I try to
sleep.
Aug 19th 2013:
I am still plagued by the faces, but
have become somewhat accustomed to their presence. There has been no
communications between us. They neither try to speak to me or
interact in any way. They may just be hallucinations on my part. At
least I have managed to get some sleep. During my meditations, I have
been to many wondrous places, some of which seem to coincide with
places in the real world, such as Tibet and the upper Indus valley,
in northern India and Pakistan.
Aug 23rd 2013:
Another breakthrough!! I have
undoubtedly experienced the release of the serpent or kundalini
energy. I believe it is what is known as satori in Zen. I am now in a
state of consciousness I can only call enlightenment. I can sense the
gods and spirits in all things and all around me. Everything seems to
be a part of a Great Oneness. I see the cohesive order of all things,
as part of the whole. It is a truly joyous and glorious feeling.
Aug 29th 2013:
I feel as though I am losing myself!! I
may be going mad!!! One of the faces has become malevolent and has
actually tried to enter me through my third eye. I cannot determine
if this is real or imaginary. I don't have a clue as to how to deal
with this. There also seems to be something more sinister, lurking
around the edges of awareness, that seems to be drawn to my
consciousness. Chanting Tantric Mantras seem to drive them both away,
for a while, but as soon as I stop, they return. I don't know what
I'd do without Becky's support. It seems she is always there when I
come out of a trance.
The phone rings, and Beauchamp closes
the journal to answer.
"Hello, Beauchamp here."
"Professor B., I have done a bit
more research since our talk this noontime. I suspect there is more
going on with your Mr. Metcalf than meets the eye."
"What do you mean, Mo?"
I suspect he is being manipulated by
some outside forces, perhaps a cult of some sort, who worship evil.
Do you know of any cultists here on campus?"
"None that I'm aware of. Why do
you say that?"
"Because, after some thought, I
believe Mr. Metcalf could not have gotten into the mess he is in by
just his own actions. Some other dark force is using him, as a
conduit, to open the gateway, I fear. I have some little knowledge of
these matters.
"I have a book, I wish to show
you, that concerns demonic possession in India. Please to come by my
office for some Chai and we will discuss this further. I do not like
to say too much on the cell phones. Any techie can eavesdrop on a
conversation. That could be bad, vedy, vedy bad."
"I'll stop by after I see about
Metcalf. I'll be there shortly."
He hangs up and drives to St. Joseph's
Hospital where he is met in the lobby by Jawoski.
"Hi doc, how is Brian doing?"
"Not too good, I'm afraid. Oh most
of his wounds seem to be nearly healed, which in itself is
miraculous, but the one on his forehead has turned a livid purple and
looks as though it is about to burst. He is semi-conscious and
delirious. He keeps chanting the same phrase over and over. It's in a
language I can't understand."
"Can I see him?"
"I don't see why not. His
girlfriend is in there now, she arrived a short time ago."
"OK, thanks Doc. I'll go on up."
Beauchamp takes the elevator to the
third floor. When he gets to Metcalf's door, he hears voices and
hesitates a moment. He can hear Metcalf chanting a mantra, and it
seems Becky is saying a prayer, in Latin, at the same time. He taps
on the door and enters.
Becky has brought Brian's prayer rug
and has it laid out, under the bed. She is leaning over Brian, and
has removed the bandage on his forehead. She has a small jar of some
unguent, that she is gently massaging into the wound. As soon as the
door opens, she jumps, stops praying and quickly puts the jar in her
purse.
"You startled me Professor, I was
just checking to see how Brian's head was doing."
Beauchamp looks at the wound on
Metcalf's forehead. It is red and purple, like a bruise, and has
swollen into a half-round mound. It has a row of stitches running
horizontally from one side to the other. It strikes Beauchamp how
much it looks like an eye, that is blackened and swollen shut, with
the lids stitched together.
'My that looks nasty. What was that you
were rubbing on it Becky?" he asks.
"Oh just an ointment I picked up
at the health food store downtown. I used it on bruises and cut
before, and it seems to work wonders."
"May I see it?" asks
Beauchamp.
"Sorry Professor, I'm running late
for a bus back to campus for a class. I'll let you check it out
another time. Gotta go, see ya," she says with a smile and is
gone.
Metcalf is not doing well. He is on an
I.V. Drip that Beauchamp assumes is laced with antibiotics and is in
restraints. He mumbles a chant over and over, but will not or can not
open his eyes, if spoken to. He is thrashing about and seems to be
sweating buckets. Beauchamp hits the button to call a nurse.
"How long has he been like this?"
asks a nurse as she rushes in.
"I don't know I just got here. He
certainly seems to be in distress."
"He was fine twenty minutes ago,
when I did my rounds. Patients have their ups and downs very quickly
sometimes."
Beauchamp touches Metcalf's forehead
and gets a dab of the ointment Becky had applied to the wound. It is
greasy and orange colored and has a rancid fat odor to it when he
gives it a sniff. He wipes it on his handkerchief and jams it in his
pocket.
The nurse gently pushes Beauchamp out
of the room, as several medical personnel rush in.
"Come back in the morning and see
how he is doing, but you must leave now," she says with an
understanding look.
Beauchamp leaves the hospital gravely
concerned by Metcalf's condition. Seeing he can do nothing here, he
leaves to meet with Professor Mohararabadim.
Chapter 7
Professor Mohararabadim has a fresh pot
of Chai, and English China cups and saucers set out when he arrives.
He pours a cup for Beauchamp and himself, and says, "Professor
B, I am vedy much concerned that another person or persons unknown
are using poor Mr. Metcalf, for their evil endeavors. Since this
morning, I have been through many of my books on the occult, and am
certain that this is the case."
"The question is who could be
using Metcalf? The only people he associates with are me and his
fiancee, until the breakup nearly a month ago."
"It may be someone whom he doesn't
know, that is secretly doing evil to him. He may have caught the
attention of someone, at a library, who noticed the type of books he
was checking out. There are some unusual persons that frequent the
John Hay Library, where he got some of his books.
"All I know is this, Professor B,
the combination of Eastern Mysticism and Western Occult can be a
vedy, vedy powerful evil.
"I think we must do a little
detective work, to discover who is using Metcalf, Professor B., and
we don't have long until the optimum time to open the gateway. We
must do whatever is necessary to prevent that from happening. We can
expect no help from anyone in this matter, they are all either
non-believers or suspect."
"I wouldn't know where to begin,
Mo. Any suggestions?"
"We know it must be someone who
can get near him, perhaps someone from the hospital, who crossed
paths with him in the library. I know that to complete this opening
of the gateway they will have to be near him for the next 48 hours.
They will have to be reciting incantations during their time near
him."
"Hey, wait a minute, Becky was
saying something in Latin or some similar language and rubbing a
salve on his forehead when I entered his room earlier. You don't
think it's her, do you? I thought she was praying for him."
"Rubbing a salve on his forehead?
Over the third eye? That may vedy well be the source of the problem.
Where is this salve she was using and what was she saying in Latin?"
"You know it was the damnedest
thing. It sounded like Latin, but I couldn't make it out. I asked her
about the ointment, and she hastily put it in here purse and ran off.
"Oh wait, I got some of it on my
finger and wiped in on my handkerchief. It smelled like rancid fat
and was an orange color. I wonder if there's enough on my
handkerchief to get it analyzed. I'll have to check with St. Joe's."
"That is vedy fascinating
Professor B.. We must watch the Becky person vedy closely.
"I have several students I can
rely on to surveil this Becky person for the next two days. They will
report her every movement. They are from my village in India, and our
families have known each other for generations. One is engaged to my
niece."
"Tell them to be careful, Mo,"
said Beauchamp, "We don't know what we're dealing with here."
Chapter 8
Becky hurries down a deserted, burned
out street in South Providence to an ancient Brownstone church, with
all the windows boarded over. This is an area of desolation. Many of
the buildings have been burned down over the years, and the area is
unoccupied for blocks, with the exception of a few warehouses, some
industrial businesses, and the homeless. It is urban blight at it's
worst and successive corrupt city governments have ignored the
problem for decades.
She goes up to the massive front door
secured with a large padlock and inserts a key. Although the lock
looks old and battered, it works smoothly.
Once inside she hurries towards the
altar where there are several occult artifacts arranged around a
statue of some misshapen horror, obviously the object of worship in
this desecrated church. There are a few figures attending to the
lighting and replacing candles, the recharging of incense braziers
and the general maintenance of the church. Although the outside is a
shambles, the interior is in superb condition. She hurries toward a
figure near the altar who is attending to the statue of the
monstrosity they worship. He is an old man who, at one time, must
have been quite tall but was now hunched over and wizened.
"Becky, how delightful to see you,
my dear," he rasps and kisses her on the cheek. "How goes
the great work?"
"All goes according to plan,
Master Thoth. I applied the unguent to the third eye as you
instructed, and placed the rug under his bed. The eye looks to be
nearly completely formed, and I am sure we can open it, at the
appointed time."
"And are you ready too? Are you
ready to give birth to the Ancient One, a god so old the he was
worshiped before the advent of man?" asks Thoth as he freely
examines her body, running his hand up her thighs to where they meet.
"Oh yes, " She gasps, "I
hunger for the god to enter me and become flesh."
"Wonderful my dear, you will be
the mother of a new age. No one suspects a thing, do they?"
"No, the only person even remotely
interested in Metcalf is that nosy Professor Beauchamp, and he is a
fool. He thinks all that has happened is due to Metcalf's dabbling in
Eastern Mysticism. He hasn't a clue."
Thoth viciously tightens his hold
between her legs and simultaneously grab her throat.
"Be very sure he doesn't. Many
attempts have been made to open the portal, and all have failed. I
have spent centuries preparing for this event and if it fails our
punishment will be great. One opportunity like this comes but every
two millennium. Although there have been other favorable times this
is the most likely to succeed," he whispers through blackened
teeth, his breath carrying the stench of carrion.
"Have no fear Master," she
replies boldly, looking him straight in the eye, "I have been
prepared for this my whole life, in fact, I was born for this event.
I will not fail."
He releases her and smiles, "Good,
good my dear, just as it should be."
"I go now to prepare for tomorrow
night when the Ancient One will pass, through me, into this world."
Becky leaves the derelict church and
hurries back to the East Side dorm, where she lives, on the Brown
campus. It is there she picks up the tail that Professor
Mohararabadim had arranged. She is confident in her action and begins
the final preparations for the next evening. She has one gristly task
to do, resupply her ingredients for the unguent that will open the
gateway, through Metcalf's third eye, so the Ancient One can enter
her body. There, she will nurture him, and he will be born into the
physical world. She has all the herbs, which were extremely difficult
to come by, and now all she needs is semen, blood and human fat.
"Human fat? How on earth did she
make a salve using human fat?" asks Beauchamp.
"I can think of several, none of
them pretty," replied Vang, "She could have gotten it from
a cadaver in the medical school, dug through the hazardous waste from
a liposuction clinic, or killed someone to get it."
Beauchamp had left Professor
Mohararabadim and returned to the hospital to give his sample of the
salve to Vang for analysis.
"There is also human sperm and
blood in this, as well as a concoction of several types of
finely-ground vegetable matter."
"What kind of ointment would these
ingredients make and what would it be used for?"
"Professor, I Haven't a clue,
surely not medicinally, it has far too many bio-hazards in it to
serve any medical purpose. With the ingredients, I'm getting from
this, I would say it maybe some sort of folk cure or...?" says
Vang.
"What about occultists, would they
use something like this?"
"Very possible, it could be
associated with witchcraft; very likely, in fact, now that you
mention it."
Becky leaves her dorm, and gets the bus
to Kennedy Plaza, where she transfers to the Westminster Ave. Route.
It's late afternoon, and she knows the waste disposal company won't
pick up the hazardous waste container, behind the abortion clinic,
until 1:30 am. This gives her plenty of time to find a late-term
aborted fetus or three, that will provide her with the unchristened
baby fat she needs for her recipe. She has gotten what she needed
here before and had a key made from the serial number on the padlock
that secures the bio-hazard container.
She smiles to herself every time she
thinks how easy it was to walk into a locksmith's shop and say she'd
lost the keys, but this is the number on her lock. They never
question a pretty young blonde with that story.
She sits on the bench at the bus stop,
across the street, and watches as the last staff member to leave,
locks up the clinic.
She has all the tools she needs to do
her ghoulish task: a scalpel, a scoop that one would use to make
melon balls, rubber gloves and some zip-lock plastic bags. All the
hazardous material is locked in a large red container, with
bio-hazard warnings all over it. The waste is always sealed in
individual zip-lock bags, in the container, from each "incident"
that generates such waste, so all she has to do is look through the
bags till she finds what she needs.
This she does. The one she finds is a
the late termination she was hoping for. Clearly it had been aborted
due to massive birth defects and deformities. She wastes no time in
opening the bag slicing through the skin on the stomach and scooping
out the bright orange fat.
She finishes quickly, re-locks the
container, and is back at the bus stop, on the clinic side of the
street, in time to catch the same bus back downtown. She never
notices the beat-up bronze-colored Toyota that has followed her from
the campus, nor the clean-cut young Indian who surreptitiously
observed her activity behind the clinic.
"Yes, yes, Professor
Mohararabadim, it was vedy disturbing. She cut open the fetus, which
itself was a monster, and scooped something from its stomach. I will
send you the photos from my phone. One would have to be vedy evil to
do such a thing."
"Good work. Please try not to lose
sight of her. This is vedy important. We must know her whereabouts
constantly for the next 48 hours."
"I understand Professor, I will
not fail," he says and hangs up.
He follows the bus to the Plaza,
watches Becky walk to the Outlet Co. department store, and enter
through the front door.
Chapter 9
Beauchamp returns home and sits in his
favorite chair by the fireplace, his mind reeling from the events of
the last two days. He decides to try and get through the rest of
Metcalf's journal and see what else can be gleamed from its pages,
before the next inevitable intrusion.
Sept 3rd 2013:
I have begun to lose track of time.
Just today, I was meditating and chanting, and went into a trance. It
was quite restful and enjoyable, a welcome respite from the haunting
phantoms that malign me when not meditating. The odd thing is that
when I came out of the trance I was not in my dorm but in the
library, reading a book on the opening of dimensional portals through
witchcraft. I have no idea how I got there and when I looked at my
watch it showed five hours had passed. I found this terribly
disturbing, I talked to Becky, and she said I had come out of the
trance, as usual, and told her, I had to check a few things at the
library. She said I appeared perfectly normal. Most interesting.
Sept 9th 2013:
I have clearly seen that there is, in
fact, a vast, hideous entity in the background of my inner
perceptions. It seems to be in conflict with the demonic faces that
are always at the forefront. I have tried to stop all meditation and
avoid the trances, but it is so ingrained into my behavior, that as
soon as I relax or attempt to rest, I fall into a meditative state.
Today I was in my dorm, then suddenly I was on the Quad, and I could
not account for two hours time. I was late for class because of it.
On another note, I have noticed that
the prayer rug Becky gave me seems to have some subconscious
attraction for me. If I look at it, it seems to faintly glow and draw
me to it. It has an unnerving aura about it that feels malevolent. I
must remember to put it in the closet to break my preoccupation with
it.
Sept 16th 2013:
I have gone mad!! I was working on my
paper, researching the mechanism of the eye, in regard to the
production of phosphenes, while the eye is closed, and suddenly, I
was violently raping Becky. I had entirely lost control, and fear I
am possessed by one of the demons, that have been trying to enter my
body and mind, from the phosphenic plane. I have been forced to break
my engagement with Becky, as I can no longer assure her safety, from
me, when I am in one of my possessed trances.
Such a bright and promising future I
had envisioned, just a few months ago, and now my life is in
shambles, in fact, I can no longer assume that it even is my life
anymore, What can I do?
(Metcalf's handwriting has become more
and more difficult to understand. The last few pages almost
unintelligible. It appears to have been written by someone trembling
badly.)
Sept 23rd 2013:
I am in hell!! Not only am I possessed
by a demon, but the monstrous thing, on the phosphenic plane, has
actually torn me from this world, and drawn me into its own. There
seems a battle for possession of me, between it and the demon. If the
demon seizes control of me, then the entity can pull me into the
phosphenic plane, using the demon as a conduit between the two
realms. The demon seems maniacally obsessed for violent sex, with any
female he comes in contact with. I have been a mere observer to these
events, a passenger in my own body. When the demon and myself near
sexual climax, it is then the vast entity can tear us both from this
world into the other. I fear sleep; as soon as I do the demon takes
me. My only defense is to chant a mantra. But how long can I do that
before I collapse from exhaustion? Is there no way out of this
nightmare? If no alternative occurs to me soon, I fear I must take
the only path left to me, to escape this madness.
Beauchamp is once again interrupted in
his reading by his cell phone.
"Beauchamp here."
Professor B., I have just gotten a vedy
disturbing report and photos of Ms. Thornton doing vedy evil things."
"What did she do, Mo?"
"She went to the Abortion Clinic
on Westminster Ave. at closing, broke into the hazardous waste
container and took what appeared to be fat from the body of a
deformed fetus."
"That's horrible, Mo. I talked to
Vang at St. Joe's, and he was able to identify human fat, semen, and
blood in the sample of the salve Becky used on Metcalf."
"Those are ingredients used for
dark and evil magics, Professor B.. There is no doubt that Ms.
Thornton is the missing piece of this puzzle. It is she who is
influencing Metcalf in a vedy negative way."
"I'll call the hospital and talk
to Dr. Jawoski. She must not be allowed near Metcalf. Then I'll call
the police and report this."
"Professor B., this is not a
police matter; they can do nothing. They could arrest Ms. Thornton,
for tampering with hazardous waste, but that will tip her and her
associates off that we are on to them. You must inform our Doctor
friend that he must instruct the staff that Metcalf have no visitors,
specifically Ms. Thornton."
"Yes, you're right of course, Mo."
"We must prepare for tomorrow
night when Ms. Thornton and her associates will attempt to open the
gateway and unleash the Ancient One. This must be prevented by any
and all means."
"I'm nearly through Metcalf's
Journal. I'll read the last few pages, then come by your office, so
we can work out a game plan."
"Vedy well, Professor B. I will
have some fresh Chai ready as well as a bit of ganga to calm the
nerves. See you then," said Professor Mohararabadim and hung up.
Beauchamp makes a quick call to Dr.
Jawoski, and then opens Metcalf's journal to the last few pages.
Oct 7th 2013:
Things seem to have calmed down since
I've had thoughts of suicide in my mind. It would seem that both the
demon and the entity do not wish me to harm their only link to the
real world. They have backed off but are still present. It feels as
though they are biding their time, in anticipation of something that
will happen soon. I still fear to relax or sleep. My physical health
is suffering for it. I may have a plan to rid myself of this curse. I
will talk to Professor Beauchamp and ask his advice. There may be
some drug that will suppress my perceptions of those horrors. I am
now convinced they are real, and I am not mad, although this
knowledge has brought me to the brink of insanity.
Oct 13th 2013:
The last 24 hours have been the worst
so far, the demon has come for me. He has taken possession 3 times in
the last day. I have nearly been drawn into the phosphenic realm
twice. I know the entity’s next attempt will succeed; he grows
stronger with every attempt. I must call Professor Beauchamp now,
while I still have some control. I can feel the demon rising, trying
to gain control as I write these words. Soon he will have me again.
Then the entity will attempt to......
(End of Metcalf's Journal)
Beauchamp closes the journal and
recalls the last call Metcalf made to him. Metcalf had been raving,
on the verge of mental collapse.
"Professor they are pulling me
into the phosphenic realm, and I can't stop it. I need your help. You
must come now, and sedate me, so I cannot become conscious. That will
stop them for a little while. Hurry!" he hung up and Beauchamp
had rushed to his dorm room to hear a horrific scream just outside
Metcalf's window.
Chapter 10
Becky has spotted her shadow, and has a
plan to be rid of him, and to get the last two ingredients for her
unguent. She has seen him follow her into the store.
The Outlet Co. is an immense upscale
department store that covers an entire block in downtown Providence.
It has egress on all four sides and three entries on two of the side.
She exits on the backside of the block
and waits for her tail to exit. When he does she injects him, with a
syringe she has secreted in her purse. It contains a drug cocktail
that renders her victim docile and unable to resist any command she
gives.
She has injected him, in the side of
the neck, and it takes barely 15 seconds for the drug to take effect.
It's effect literally reduces him to a zombie with no will of his
own. His eyes are glazed, and he shows no desire to do anything
except what he is told.
"Take me to your car, I need a
ride back to campus," says Becky.
"Yesss..." he barely replies.
Becky decides it's best if she drive
when they get to the car, as he is too out of it to do so safely. She
could ill afford to get in a wreak so close to the time of the big
event.
"Want to go out to Blackstone
Blvd. And make out? I know a dirt road that runs behind Swan Point
Cemetery, that's great for necking," says Becky.
"Do I?" he asks.
"Yes you do. We'll have a great
time."
"A great time," he parrots.
Becky drives to the spot. It is where
the grounds keepers go to dump cuttings, plants and flowers left by
the bereaved. She parks the car in an out of the way spot that can't
be seen by the road used by the landscapers.
"You want to have sex with me very
badly. You are terribly aroused by my beautiful breasts," she
says as she removes her blouse.
"Beautiful breasts," he
mumbles.
She removes a zip-lock bag and the
scalpel from her purse.
"Pull down your pants and
masturbate for me, while you admire my beautiful breasts."
The young man does as she commands.
"You are very excited but must not
cum until I say you can. Then you will have a massive ejaculation.
But only on my command do you understand?"
"Yes." he mumbles.
"Good, now proceed and when I say
'go' you will have the most intense orgasm and the biggest
ejaculation of your life. Use your other hand to feel my breasts.
That's it, you can feel the pressure building, building, you can
hardly stand it, but you cannot release until I say the word."
Becky holds the bag close to him and
with the scalpel in the other hand watches as the stress on the face
of the young man builds. He is quivering and sweating profusely.
"I am about to say the word. When
I do you will feel the most wonderful sensation ever in your life.
You may feel a sudden burning on your thigh but only for a moment and
it will only increase your pleasure. Do you understand?"
"Yes," he moans.
"Good now get ready I am about to
say the word. One, two, three, go!!"
As she says the word and he begins to
ejaculate, she slices the femoral artery in his inner thigh. She
catches his semen in the bag and tops it off with the spurting blood.
"That was wonderful, and now you
are very tired and need to take a short nap. You will now go to sleep
and when you awaken you will be in Nirvana."
The young man closes his eyes and
begins to snore as his life bleeds out. Becky gets out and replaces
her blouse. She climbs the rock wall behind the car, that leads to
the cemetery. She has carefully zipped her plastic bag and tucked it
into a secret compartment in her purse. She cuts across the cemetery
and exits on the far side, near a bus stop, where she can catch a bus
that will take her back to Thayer St. and Brown.
Beauchamp arrives at Professor
Mohararabadim's office and sits down with him for a cup of chai. He
fills Mo in on what he's learned from the last entries in Metcalf's
journal.
"Professor B., tomorrow night will
be vedy dangerous. You must understand that lives may be lost.
Nothing can stop us from preventing the gateway opening. Are you
prepared to kill if necessary?"
"I hadn't considered that aspect,
do really think it could come to that?"
"Most definitely. These people, of
which Becky is only one, are vedy evil and will not hesitate to kill
us, if we try to interrupt their rituals. We must be prepared to do
the same. I have several dedicated associates who are willing to kill
or die to prevent such evil into the world; they will assist us."
"What do you think will happen,
MO?"
"I think they will try to kidnap
Metcalf tonight and take him to their temple or whatever they call
the place they use to worship this ancient one. The ritual to open
the gateway will take place tomorrow night at midnight. One of my
students has provided me with a radio-tracking device. We must insert
this under the skin on Metcalf's arm in the event they manage to get
away with him and elude us. This we must do now. Let us go to the
hospital."
They hurry out and get into Professor
Mohararabadim's car, and old Ford Lincoln.
"We will keep a watch, an armed
man, at the hospital tonight. He will check in each half hour, and if
he is just five minutes late, we will active the tracking device and
rush to the hospital," said Mo. "The young man trailing Ms.
Thornton has failed to make contact at the designated time, and I
fear for his safety. She may have discovered she was being followed
and done something vedy bad to him."
"Surely you don't think he's met
with foul play?"
"Indeed I do, Professor B. These
worshipers of the Old Ones think nothing of killing to keep their
secrets."
"What do you plan to do?"
"I have a techie, who assures me,
he can track the young man through his cell phone. He is working on
that now, and when they find him, I fear he will be dead. Then,
Professor B, you will know how vedy serious this business is."
Beauchamp is silent for the rest of the
trip to the hospital. Once inside they go directly to Metcalf's room.
There is a large, young Seik at the door, who greets them in Indian
fashion, putting his hands together and bowing his head, then he
opens the door for them.
Metcalf is in much the same condition
he was before. Mumbling his mantras in a delirious, semi-conscious
state. Professor Mohararabadim is prepared to insert the tracker
quickly. He has a small kit with a scalpel, a small capsule that was
the tracker, an alcohol wipe, cotton gauze and a needle and suture
ready. He deftly swabs a spot on Metcalf's upper arm, makes a small
incision that Metcalf never responds to, inserts the capsule under
the skin and puts in two quick stitches to close the wound. He is
done so fast the wound never gets a chance to bleed. With Metcalf's
1200 other sutures and staples, two more will never be noticed. They
are in and out of the hospital in ten minutes.
On the journey back, Beauchamp is
impressed when Mohararabadim takes a dash-top navigator from his
pocket and sticks it to the dash and turns it on. It shows a map of
the area with a blinking red dot at the spot where the hospital is.
"I didn't know those things can do
that," says Beauchamp.
"Oh yes, there is a company in
partners with the manufacturer of this device that sells tracking
devices for pet owners. So if your dog gets out of the yard, you can
find him."
"You mean we just put a pet
tracker in Metcalf?"
"Yes indeed, Professor B., No
custom spy gear, just something off the shelf at Petco," he
answers with a smile.
Chapter 11
Becky is back at her dorm within twenty
minutes of exiting the cemetery. She quickly sets up her altar and
the ingredients for her unguent. She strips naked and makes her
pentacle. She cooks up the unbaptized infant fat, from the fetus, on
a small brazier, and when it liquifies, she adds her herbs; mandrake
root, Jimpson weed, a dried Amanita Muscaria, and some desiccated
skin from a Bufo toad. She lets it cool while she chants the proper
incantations. Finally, she adds the sperm from an uncircumcised
non-christian along with his blood. She quickly pours the vile
concoction into a small black jar. She dresses and returns here herbs
and altar paraphernalia to their hiding place, and grabs her coat and
leaves.
She walks down to Angell St. and enters
a property on which sits a Brownstone mansion and a carriage house.
Using her key, she opens the garage door of the carriage house.
Inside is a black 1967 Mercedes-Benz, in perfect condition. It is
part of her endowment as the chosen vessel of the Ancient One. All
her worldly needs are provided, and she wants for nothing.
She gets in and drives to the derelict
church, in South Providence. This evening is unusual as there are
vehicles about, last-minute plans are being made to abduct Metcalf
and secret him here, for tomorrow night's ritual.
She enters the church and is greeted by
her mother, father and sister, she is surrounded by friends and
family. It is a joyous occasion, there will be a grand feast and orgy
tonight, for tomorrow, she will have opened the gateway and have the
issue of the Ancient One, in her, or they will all be dead. There is
no middle ground, they will succeed, or they will all die for
failing. Thoth would be the only survivor, left to plan the next
attempt to open the gateway. But tonight they would party with total
abandon and while the two hundred or so faithful enjoy the last night
before the ritual a few of the devoted would launch an assault on St.
Joseph's Hospital to grab Metcalf.
Professors Beauchamp and Mohararabadim
are back at Mohararabadim's office sipping chai when the techie
student calls with grim news.
"I am most sorry to have to tell
you that we have found Rashmir. He is vedy deceased. The artery in
his thigh was surgically cut, and he bled to his death. His car was
by a cemetery near Blackstone Blvd," said the young man.
"So now we know this cult will
kill to protect their evil agenda," says Mo.
He rises from his chair, takes a small
key from his vest pocket, and unlocks an antique Arts and Crafts
bookcase, with leaded glass doors. He removes a wooden case and sets
it on the table, between him and Beauchamp. Inside sits two ancient
Luger, "broomhandle", parabellum pistols circa WWI.
He takes them out and offers one to
Beauchamp.
"Do you really think this is
necessary, Mo?"
"I do indeed. Those evil cultists
have crossed the line. Not only do they conspire to bring great evil
into the world, that will destroy it, and enslave the survivors, but
they have stolen the future husband of my niece, from me and my
family. This is a blood feud now. We are the vanguard in the battle
between good and evil. We have been chosen, by the forces of good and
light, to fight this battle, for the world, in the next two days. I
for one will meet the challenge with deadly force if necessary. Will
you Professor B.?"
"Yes of course, now that I
understand the gravity of the situation. What else do we need to
protect our world?" he asks, as he pockets the automatic.
"We must surely get a supply of
holy water. This can be thrown, on any ritual artifacts, to desecrate
them, and render them useless. Also, if thrown on the cultists, it
will burn them. These guns have silver slugs that may or may not
help, I do not know."
"What are the plans for tonight?"
"I have several men, who are part
of my study group, who have trained to fight just this type of evil.
We are a sect of Brahmanism who watch the world for signs of evil,
such as you stumbled upon. We will try to protect Metcalf from them,
and if we cannot, we are prepared to kill him. If that fails, and
they succeed in abducting him, we will track him to their lair, and
fight the final battle there. One way or the other this will all be
over tomorrow night. I do intend to try and save Metcalf, if there is
any way possible to do so. Let us finish our chai and have a puff or
two of ganga. Then we will dine at a fine restaurant, my treat, and
take up our vigil at St. Joseph's."
By nightfall, they are ensconced in the
visitor lounge, where they maintain contact with Professor
Mohararabadim's men, via cell phone. They are stationed around the
hospital inside and out. They regularly check Metcalf's room.
Professor Mohararabadim has gotten St. Joesph's Hospital to cooperate
fully, to the extent that the security personnel are on the alert for
intruders too. Each of Mo's people text him every 30 minutes with an
"OK", to ensure none has been compromised.
The Cult of the Ancient One has planned
well for the abduction. They have two people on the inside of the
hospital, one a nurse, the other a security guard. The nurse is
unusually friendly with the man at the door to Metcalf's room. She
keeps bringing him coffee and makes sure he always has a full cup.
The guard is in the security office waiting for their opportunity.
Their plan goes into effect with the
arrival of a patient from another hospital who is a burn victim. He
is brought in an ambulance and hurried up to the third floor burn
unit. It has been arranged he be placed in the room adjacent to
Metcalf's. In reality, he is a derelict who has been snagged off the
street and drugged unconscious. He's been swathed in bandages and
placed on a bed identical to Metcalf's. The strategy is brilliant in
its simplicity. The nurse brings coffee, the security guard watches
the monitor in the hall outside Metcalf's room. When the guard starts
fidgeting the security man goes to Metcalf's room and starts a
conversation with the man. He offers to watch the door while the man
uses the bathroom. His proposal is readily accepted and as soon as
the man rounds the corner, the nurse and the security guard switch
the derelict with Metcalf. They pull the switch, in less than a
minute, and the man is gone for less than two. He quickly peeks in on
Metcalf's room and sees a man wrapped in bandages just as Metcalf is.
The nurse with the real Metcalf tweaks the monitors to create an
emergency response from the staff. They discover an unplugged sensor,
plug it back in and leave. The nurse takes Metcalf to the elevator as
though this was all part to the emergency. She places him in a
waiting ambulance, and they drive away with their prize.
Chapter 12
At the church, festivities move into
high gear, as word of a successful mission reaches the revelers. For
most present, this is the critical event. The actual ritual to open
the gateway, the next night, will only be attended by a small group
of the inner circle. They cannot have two hundred panicking
worshipers, screaming in terror, when the Ancient One actually
materializes. To worship a god, especially an abomination out of
space and time is one thing, to see that god in the flesh, is quite
another. They can ill afford to have devotees running, screaming,
into the night, struck senseless by the mere sight of the entity. So
only a few of the most faithful and the oldest will be present. Thoth
of course would preside as he is the agent of the Ancient One and has
been trying to open the gateway for an extraordinarily long time. He
is kept preternaturally alive, by the grace of the Ancient One, and
this will be his second attempt to open the portal, under optimal
conditions. Of course, he has tried on other occasions too, but all
have failed. This time he has actually bred the vessel to meet the
requirements. It has taken six generations of selective mating to get
the perfect vessel, Becky Thornton.
Beauchamp and Mohararabadim are getting
restless. Everything is too calm with the exception of one ambulance;
an unusually quiet night for the hospital.
They decide to check on Metcalf around
10:30 and discover the man in the bed is an imposter. The cult had
been clever to merely drug the bum instead of kill him. They know
precious time would be wasted in reviving him and questioning him.
The man on the door is dumbfounded that
a switch has been made. It took just a moment to realize when it had
been done. They search for the security guard and the nurse, but they
left with Metcalf, in the ambulance.
The Professors and their group quickly
mobilize and start tracking the pet device in Metcalf's arm. It has a
range of only a few miles, so several cars set out in different
directions to try and pinpoint his location. This takes several
hours. Finally, they find him. It appears he was taken to an
abandoned church where a massive party is in progress.
"This is vedy bad, vedy bad
indeed. We cannot go in to get him until those people leave,"
says Professor Mohararabadim. "We may have to postpone his
rescue until the last minute, just before they do the ritual tomorrow
night, when only the inner circle will be present."
"Why do you say that, Mo?"
"Because, should they succeed and
this horror should come into the world, the vedy sight of it will
drive men insane. This will not be good. They will want to keep it a
secret until it has time to attain its full power. This may take some
little time. But dozens of people running mad into the streets with
tales of a monster in the church will not be part of their plans.
Therefore, when the ritual begins only the inner circle will attend."
"I guess that makes sense. If this
thing can drive people mad, with just a look, it must be some piece
of work."
"Oh it is vedy much a piece of
work, Professor B. Pray we never get to see it."
They decide to fall back to the campus
to organize their forces and make their plans. Most of the sect that
Mohararabadim belongs is mobilized, a group of eleven men and the two
professors. They decide the best course of action will be to use
tranquilizer guns on the cult. Nine would carry tranks, and the
professors and two others would carry lethal weapons.
Becky is happily chanting incantations
in a language that is the precursor of ancient Latin and smearing her
unguent on Metcalf's forehead, where now more than ever, the wound
looks like a bruised and swollen eye, ready to burst open, in spite
of the sutures holding it closed. The carpet she used, with the
pentacle on it, was left at the hospital, but Metcalf's bed had been
placed on a huge pentagram, inlaid in the stone floor of the church.
Many symbols and Kabalistic signs are inlaid around the points.
Metcalf is still trying to chant his
mantras to ward off the demon and the entity. This is done in total
delirium, as he was beyond exhaustion, and can only parrot the
mantras through conditioned response and nothing more. His mind is
mostly gone but for a thin thread of consciousness that holds an
image of Lord Krishna, the little blue god who's dance is sustaining
him with the strength to chant.
The feast and orgy is over at dawn, and
everyone has gone. Even those rendered unconscious, by the
festivities, are hauled away. Only the principal players are left.
This includes Thoth, five elder priests, Becky, Metcalf and seven
guards with automatic weapons. No one will be allowed in or out,
until the ritual is complete. Thus prepared, the forces of light and
darkness wait for the night to fall.
Beauchamp tries to rest after being up
all night, but sleep will not come. He has stopped by the church and
gotten the holy water, and now his mind reviews all his views of God
and religion. He still can't believe that such evil can exist in the
modern world. On the other hand, even if the cultists are delusional,
they had still kidnapped Metcalf and murdered Rashid. He lays awake
long hours, it seems like nightfall will never come.
Finally, evening arrives, and Beauchamp
and the other men rendezvous, at Mohararabadim's office, to go over
their final plan.
Mohararabadim starts the briefing:
"The ritual will begin shortly
after 11:00 pm. and end with the final incantations exactly at
midnight. During that time, we will enter the church and render
everyone but the priests doing the ritual unconscious. Do not
hesitate to be liberal with the tranquilizer darts. We have vedy
many, and it does no damage to those we shoot with them.
"Those of us with the real guns
will try not to use them unless attacked in kind."
"I've gotten several bottles of
holy water that can be used to desecrate their ritual setup whatever
that is," said Beauchamp. "Our primary goal, as I see it,
is to rescue Metcalf. I am not sure I believe they have the power to
open a gateway to another world, but I am sure they are kidnappers
and murderers."
"There vedy likely will be armed
guards, with orders to shoot to kill. Therefore, our advanced guard
will use the dart rifles to immobilize them from a distance, quietly,
so as not to alert the others. This is vedy important. The less
turmoil we create getting into the church, the better for all
involved.
The guards may be members of the cult
or just hired help, but the priests and Ms. Thornton are violent
fanatics and must be dealt with accordingly," said
Mohararabadim.
They check their gear, the trank
rifles, the real guns, the holy water in squirt bottles, as well as a
large bolt cutter, pry bars, with which to enter the church, and zip
ties to bind the tranquilized guards.
The group will travel to the church in
three black Chevy Suburbans the sect has come up with. They are brand
new, and when Beauchamp asks where they'd come from, he is told they
came from a relative's car dealership, and told to, "Try not to
scratch the paint," by Mo, with a smile.
They had a few hours to kill, so they
decided to go to a local Italian restaurant, fully knowing that this
may be the last meal for some.
Chapter 13
While they are eating, the Cult of the
Ancient Ones, as they officially call themselves, are making their
final preparations. The armed guards are stationed outside of the
church. They could take no chances that one of them would start
shooting, if he caught a glimpse of the Ancient One, as he manifests.
The windows and doors are barred, from the inside, to prevent anyone
from entering during the ritual.
The church is dimly lit with long black
candles, the altar lit with more of the same. The priests are dressed
in blood-red robes, with hoods, and Ms. Thornton has on a silk
kimono, which she will shed when the rituals begin.
Metcalf has been removed from his bed
and placed upon the altar. His head lay in the center of a pentagram,
surrounded by black candles. He has been sedated so he will not wake
at an inopportune moment. All is in readiness for the big event.
The Suburbans roll up to within two
blocks of the church. They easily spot the guards and sight them in
their scopes. It is now 10:45 and they wait for their cue, when the
priests start chanting incantations in the church.
Thoth is nervous, he has seen the
forces of light thwart his plans too many times in the past not to
hedge his bets. Known only to himself is a secret door in the back of
the altar that leads to the church basement and into the storm drains
under the city, and finally to Narragansett Bay. He will quickly
bolt, should the situation turn hopeless. He has survived an
extraordinarily long time by being cautious.
He looks up through the only
stained-glass window still intact in the church. It is a large round
disc set high in the wall behind the altar. He can see the half moon,
the ideal conditions for their ritual, half in this world and half
not. They will chant their evil spells until the moon is directly
overhead and then invoke the Ancient One.
"Let us begin," he says as he
and the five priests take their positions, one at each point of the
occult star, upon which Metcalf's head lay.
Becky sheds her kimono, climbs on the
altar and kneels with one knee on either side of Metcalf's head. She
looks down his body and sees all the sutures covering his now naked
body. She is in a trance like state, from chanting spells all day, in
the ancient language, used in the worship of the Ancient One.
As soon as the chanting begins, the
riflemen shoot their darts and the armed men, surrounding the church,
slump to the ground. They are quickly relieved of their weapons and
bound with zip ties, hand and foot. The plan is going perfectly. Now
all they have to do is gain entry to the building. That proves harder
than expected. Since the doors and windows are barred from the
inside, they have no easy way in. They had expected to cut a padlock
or two and be in. They huddle at the front of the church only to find
the apparent plywood door actually conceals steel underneath. The
same is true for the windows.
Time is escaping them, it is now 11:50
and they have yet to gain access to the church. Finally, they
discover a way in. It is a small basement window that has been
overlooked for the steel plate since it has bars on it. The bolt
cutters are barely able to get a bite on the bars, but soon they are
dropping into the basement, one by one.
Once inside they are befuddled by the
extensive amount of clutter, filling the basement, nearly to the
ceiling, but there is a labyrinthine series of passageways, that run
through it. When they finally make it to the stairs, it is nearly
midnight. Beauchamp and Mohararabadim, along with the two others
armed with guns, quietly steal up the stairs. At the altar, the
chanting has reached a fevered pitch.
"Yog sogotha portiliculus, yog
sogotha portiliculus," the frenzied priests screech. Clearly,
the effort to open the gateway is demanding. The priests are bathed
in sweat with veins bulging from their foreheads and necks. Their
eyes are bulging, and three are bleeding from the nostrils, and one
from the ears. Becky is in what appears to be a sexual heat,
thrashing around, clawing at her breasts while undulating her pelvis
in mock copulation. Metcalf is trembling and convulsing to the rhythm
of the incantations, his head between her thighs.
Just as the rescuers have crept close
to the altar, several things happen rapidly.
The whole area of the altar begins to
glow with a phosphorescence that is permeated with violet tendrils
and a dark purple mist. The priests reach their crescendo in their
incantations and all collapse except for Thoth, with blood seeping
from eyes, nose, ears, and mouth. They have clearly been consumed by
their dark magic. Just as they crash to the floor dead, Metcalf goes
rigid, and the wound on his forehead erupts in a mass of pus and
blood. Becky who has been resting on her hands, with her head hanging
down, is hit squarely between the thighs with the eruption. It is
rapidly absorbed into her body. She slowly raises her head, and her
face has been transformed into some evil visage, with smoldering red
eyes. Metcalf is unconscious or dead.
Thoth senses the rescuers and turns,
glaring with a maniacal grin.
"You're too late! The Ancient One
grows in the body of the vessel," he cackles and throws an
athame at the group, hitting one of the men in the neck, who crumbles
in a splash of crimson.
Beauchamp fires his Luger and hits
Thoth who twists at the impact and ducks behind the altar to his bolt
hole. Mohararabadim's other armed man is in quick pursuit.
Becky, meanwhile, has risen and already
her belly shows swelling. She holds the drooping head of Metcalf, by
his hair, and speaks in a voice that sounds like a garbage disposal.
"Long, oh long, have we waited for
this day. We are in the world and cannot be stopped. Our power is
limitless, and we shall rule here for all...."
Her words are interrupted by the bullet
Mohararabadim fires into her brain. He'd hit her squarely between the
eyes. But such is the power of the Ancient One that she does not
fall. She staggers for a moment and then regains her balance. She
lets go of Metcalf, and leaps down from the altar, and advances on
the professors. Two more shots to the head and one to the heart
finally drop her.
Beauchamp runs to Metcalf and takes his
head in his hands. Metcalf has a gaping hole in the forehead, but it
appears to be only superficial; Beauchamp can clearly see the intact
skull at the bottom of the wound. Metcalf's eyes flutter and seconds
later he regains consciousness.
"Professor Beauchamp, thank God. I
thought I would never escape that nightmare. I was drawn into the
phosphenic realm and feared I would never return. There was some sort
of battle over me, and the demon was torn from me repeatedly, but
would re-enter each time, tearing a new hole in me. The entity that
kept tearing the demon from me was a vast horror, so large I could
never see the whole thing, just black tentacles and huge eyes. The
pain drove me mad, mad I tell you!" he said, and breaks down and
weeps.
Mohararabadim's man returns through the
door behind the altar and reports Thoth has escaped into the storm
drains bleeding profusely all the way.
"I do not think he will survive
the wounding. I could not follow, there was no light," says the
man.
"Evil has a way of surviving,"
says Mo.
"We must get Metcalf back to the
hospital," says Beauchamp.
"My men will see to him Professor
B.."
The door has been unbarred, and the
others are in the church. They carry Metcalf out to one of the
Suburbans.
Suddenly Becky's body starts rumbling,
and her belly begins distorting, as though something inside is
moving. A point rises in her belly, just above her navel, and a black
tentacle bursts through the gut wall, a talon on its tip. It is
quickly followed by more. What finally emerges is a hideous mass of
tentacles, a head like a Komodo Dragon with far too many eyes,
attached to a body like a black tumor with a dozen lizard-like legs.
Along the back, and where the tail should be, are a mass of thrashing
tentacles each with a claw on the end.
The Ancient One is still alive and in
this world. It skitters toward Professor Mohararabadim, with
malicious intent, and rears up ready to strike. Professor
Mohararabadim responds with shock. He rears back on one foot and
stomps the abomination into so much slime with his Beatle boot.
The ancient One had achieved its goal
of entering the world, but it had not had time to grow in the few
minutes it was in its vessel, Becky. So it had been extremely unwise
to attack Mohararabadim when it was only four inches tall.
Mohararabadim wipes his boot on one of
the fallen priests and says, "This has been a vedy unsettling
two days, Professor B. My men will see to Metcalf, and we can place
an anonymous call, to the police, to clean up this mess. But I vedy
much suggest you and I go to my office for some hot chai and a few
puffs of ganga to calm the nerves," he says with a grin.