The Martian Falcon (Lovecraft & Fort) (23 page)

CHAPTER 33
Farewell, My Zombie

‘Let them have it, boys!’ shouted Capone.

His twelve undead soldiers turned as one, raised their submachine guns and fired. The cavern was instantly filled with the cacophony of exploding shells and the stench of cordite, but the noise was nothing compared to the insane, hate-filled, agonised shrieking of the Dero as the bullets tore into them, painting the dank air with thick, black blood.

More Dero appeared, hobbling over the ruptured bodies of their fallen comrades, screaming with rage, their wide, shapeless mouths dripping with greenish slobber. They fell upon one zombie and ripped him to shreds, hurling chunks of flesh at the others, who took no notice and continued to fire.

‘Grenades!’ shouted Capone. ‘Grenades, you dumb fucks!’

The zombie carrying the knapsack reached in, took a grenade, pulled the pin and lobbed it at the writhing mass of Dero. Half a dozen of them were blown to bloody fragments, but that didn’t stop them coming.

Rusty, O’Malley and Capone opened up with their own weapons – as did Lovecraft, but the recoil of his Tommy gun took him by surprise. He lost his footing on the rubble-strewn ground and fell flat on his back, his finger still squeezing the trigger. The bullets struck the ceiling, dislodging a large piece of masonry which plummeted to the ground, crushing another two dozen Dero.

‘Not bad, librarian!’ cried Capone. ‘We’ll make a wise guy of you yet!’

‘I regret to say that is not one of my ambitions, Mr. Capone,’ Lovecraft replied as he dragged himself to his feet and resumed firing.

Fort stepped forward and adjusted the Teleforce Projector to its wide-beam setting. He fired from the hip, hosing the still-advancing Dero with a glowing spray of blue death. Those it touched blew apart as if made of tissue paper, and yet others unhesitatingly advanced to take their place.

‘For the love of God!’ O’Malley cried. ‘How many of these bastards are there?’

‘More than we can handle like this!’ Fort shouted back. He glanced at the power indicator gauge on the side of the Projector. The needle was at the 75% mark. He had just used a quarter of the device’s electrical charge. ‘Shit!’ he said. ‘Tesla never told us it was
this
thirsty.’

The zombie with the grenades lobbed another one and took out a half dozen more Dero. Another three of his fellows had been taken down, pummelled and dismembered, the dripping fragments of their bodies thrown into the smoke-filled air like confetti.

Dozens of Dero lay in bloody lumps on the ground, and yet they still came, howling and mewling and cursing at the interlopers; shouting at the tops of their lungs all the things they were going to do to them. Lovecraft caught snippets of this and was glad he couldn’t make out the rest.

Fort glanced over his shoulder and caught sight of a small tunnel mouth in the cavern’s far wall. It was in the direction they had been headed, which was a plus. ‘Come on!’ he yelled. ‘This way!’

They all sprinted across the cavern, as yet more Dero appeared from out of side galleries to their left and right, converging on them with terrifying speed. Capone was behind the others, and several of the creatures leaped upon him, smashing his head and torso with their calloused fists. He grabbed one, threw it to the ground and stamped on its head, which exploded like a ripe watermelon. He seized another and ripped it limb from limb, then used one of its legs to beat the others to death. ‘I love a good fight!’ he roared. ‘
I’m a sucker for a good fight! Come on, the rest of you – whattaya waitin’ for? I’ll mash you all to a fuckin’ pulp, you maggots!
’

Fort ran into the mouth of the tunnel and skidded to a halt. The tunnel contained a monorail, on top of which sat a bulbous car fashioned from a dull, pewter-hued metal. The car contained several bench seats, and the controls appeared to consist of a single lever and a number of dials.
Could we be that lucky?
he wondered as he reached into the car and pushed the lever.

Nothing whatsoever happened. He bent down to look under the car, and saw a mass of shredded wiring.
I guess not
, he thought. He peered along the tunnel, which seemed to be empty.

He heard O’Malley’s voice calling out: ‘Charlie! We’re in trouble here!’

He ran back to the mouth of the tunnel and shouted: ‘Looks clear this way!’

Capone paused in his decimation of the Dero who were unwise enough to go up against him, then turned and shouted to the zombie with the grenades: ‘Hey, Milo! Toss me the sack!’

The zombie did so and then went back to work on the Dero with his machine gun. He was the only one left, and it was only a few more moments before he, too, went down under their relentless onslaught.

‘So long, fellas,’ said Capone as he strode swiftly into the tunnel mouth. The others were already inside. ‘Run like hell,’ he said, as he took out one grenade and pulled the pin.

Fort, Lovecraft, Rusty and O’Malley ran.

Capone cast a single glance at the advancing Dero, and then looked down at the eight grenades remaining in the sack. He dropped the grenade he was holding into the sack, let it fall to the ground and flicked the pin at the Dero.

Then he, too, ran like hell.

CHAPTER 34
Out of the Frying Pan…

The explosion knocked them all off their feet, except for Capone, who planted his massive piston-driven legs wide and took the force of the blast. Almost immediately, there was a deep, powerful rumbling as the roof of the tunnel behind them collapsed, cutting off the still-advancing Dero.

‘That’s bought us some time, I reckon,’ said Capone with a wide grin.

‘That it has,’ said Fort as he got to his feet. ‘By the way, has anyone seen Sanguine?’

‘Not since the Dero appeared,’ O’Malley replied. ‘Can’t say I’m surprised.’

‘Me neither,’ said Capone. ‘Fuckin’ night-walkin’ coward! But he’ll be back when the fightin’s done, mark my words.’

‘I don’t doubt it,’ muttered Fort. ‘Okay, let’s keep going. This is just an Atlan transit tunnel, built for the monorail.’

‘Do you think there are more Dero in here?’ asked Lovecraft as he peered uncertainly into the darkness ahead.

‘I doubt it,’ Fort replied. ‘It’s too narrow for them to come through in much more than single file. Doesn’t suit their tactics. My guess is we’ll be okay for a while. But we shouldn’t hang around…’

‘Then let’s go,’ said Capone.

As they made their way along the transit tunnel, they heard the distant shouts and grunts of the Dero echoing strangely. The vast honeycomb network of caverns and tunnels was acting as an amplifier, so that it seemed as though the enemy were all around them – which was, in fact, the case.

Presently, the tunnel opened into a vast cylindrical chamber, the centre of which was dominated by a complex switching mechanism for the monorail cars. There were five other openings in the curved wall, containing other monorails.

They cast their flashlight beams up and could make out at least ten more levels in the gloom above them, each with its own switching mechanism anchored to the wall of the cylinder by thick metal stanchions.

‘Transit hubs,’ said Fort, pointing at the multiple openings in the chamber wall high above, each of which contained a monorail.

Lovecraft looked around at the five other tunnels on their level. ‘But which do we choose? And is the right one even on this level? We certainly can’t get up to any of the others…’

Fort checked his compass again and pointed to one of the openings. ‘That one heads east, more or less. That’s the direction we need to be headed.’

‘YES,’ said a voice that boomed and echoed through the switching chamber. They all jumped at the cacophonous sound. ‘THAT IS THE DIRECTION YOU NEED TO TAKE.’

‘What the
fuck
!’ shouted Capone.

‘Crystalman,’ said Fort. ‘You can hear us?’

‘I CAN HEAR YOU AND SEE YOU,’ the booming voice replied. ‘I CAN WATCH YOUR ACTIONS AND DIVINE YOUR THOUGHTS AND INTENTIONS. YOU HAVE COME FAR. I CONGRATULATE YOU.’

‘Keep you damned congratulations!’ cried Fort. ‘We’ve come to stop you, Crystalman. We know what you’re planning to do, and we’ve come to put an end to it.’

‘I KNOW. I APPLAUD YOUR EFFORTS, BUT I REGRET TO TELL YOU THAT YOU WILL FAIL. YOU KNOW THIS YOURSELVES IN YOUR HEARTS. AT THE VERY CENTRE OF YOUR CONSCIOUSNESS LAY THE SEED OF DOUBT, WHICH HAS ALREADY FLOWERED INTO THE REALISATION THAT YOU CANNOT SUCCEED… FOR YOU KNOW WHO AND WHAT I REALLY AM.’

‘Yes,’ said Fort. ‘You’re an avatar of Nyarlathotep, the Crawling Chaos, Messenger of the Great Old Ones… the only one of them who has ever interacted directly with humanity – and then only to cause misery and strife amongst us.’

‘You are the great antagonist, the being of a thousand forms,’ added O’Malley. ‘You have always delighted in the cultivation of madness upon the Earth… that has always been your aim, your terrible delight… so why, now, do you want to destroy it?’

‘DO YOU THINK EARTH IS MY ONLY PLAYGROUND, PRIEST? DO YOU THINK THAT CRYSTALMAN IS ANYTHING MORE THAN THE MEREST FRAGMENT, THE THINNEST SHARD, THE MOST SUBTLE AND FLEETING SHADOW OF NYARLATHOTEP? HOW SMALL YOUR MINDS! HOW WEAK YOUR HEARTS!’

‘You haven’t answered my question,’ said O’Malley. ‘Why must this particular…
playground
be destroyed?’

‘BECAUSE MY FATHER HAS BID IT TO BE SO. HIS GAZE AND HIS BREATH HAVE GROWN RESTLESS IN THEIR CONFINEMENT AT THE CENTRE OF THE RED PLANET; THEY GROW WEARY OF THEIR QUANTUM ENTANGLEMENT WITH THE MIND OF HAQ UL’SUUN; THEY WISH TO BE FREE TO SATE THEMSELVES ON THE EARTH, JUST AS THEY DID ON MARS FIVE MILLION YEARS AGO.’

‘Is that what
you
want, Crystalman?’ asked Fort. ‘If that happens, your playground will be taken away; your toys will be gone…’

The voice laughed. ‘I SAY AGAIN: HOW SMALL YOUR MINDS! DO YOU THINK THIS IS THE ONLY EARTH? THERE ARE COUNTLESS OTHERS IN NEIGHBOURING DIMENSIONS: AN INFINITE NUMBER OF PLAYGROUNDS, AN INFINITE NUMBER OF TINY BEINGS TO BE TORMENTED. ALL DIFFERENT.’ The voice laughed again. ‘THERE IS EVEN ONE, LOVECRAFT, WHERE I AND THE REST OF MY KIN ARE THE CREATIONS OF YOUR IMAGINATION, FOR IN A UNIVERSE THAT IS INFINITE IN EXTENT AND ETERNAL IN TIME, ALL THINGS COME TO PASS. WHEN THIS EARTH IS DONE, I SHALL MOVE ON TO ANOTHER, AND ANOTHER, THROUGHOUT TIME AND SPACE, INTO ETERNITY!’

The voice of Crystalman paused, and then concluded: ‘BUT NOW IT IS TIME FOR YOU TO EXIT THIS LITTLE DRAMA, FOR YOU ARE ABOUT TO BECOME THE PLAYTHINGS OF THE DERO, AND I MUST PREPARE FOR THE ARRIVAL OF LIEUTENANT CARTER, WHO IS DESCENDING TO MY CAVERNS AS WE SPEAK. FAREWELL!’

‘We’re too late,’ said Lovecraft, his voice heavy with despair. ‘Dear God, we’re too late!’

‘And here come the Dero,’ added O’Malley, indicating the mouths of the transit tunnels all around them, from which the vile, misshapen creatures of the Inner Earth had begun to emerge, their hideous faces twisted with lopsided grins of anticipation.

Fort and the others looked up at the vast cylindrical shaft stretching into the distance far above. More Dero were emerging from the tunnel mouths along its length and scuttling down towards them, clinging to the wall like huge, hungry spiders.

Fort glanced back the way they had come. There would be no escape through that tunnel, thanks to Capone’s grenades.

O’Malley looked at Fort. ‘Well, Charlie, what do we do now?’

‘I have no idea,’ said Fort.

CHAPTER 35
Manticore

‘Well, Miss Links,’ said Fort, ‘looks like you’re going to get your comeuppance after all. Nevertheless… I’m sorry it has to be
this
way.’

He glanced at her and frowned. She was looking down at herself, a smile spreading slowly across her face. She handed him her machine gun and replied: ‘We’re not finished yet, Mr. Fort.’

Then she took a couple of steps towards the advancing Dero and began to take off her clothes. They halted, eyeing her, their mouths open and drooling. Fort and the others were disgusted to see their rapidly growing erections.

Rusty tossed her clothes to Lovecraft. ‘Be a darling and hold onto these for me, would you? I’ll need them back later.’

The drug’s worn off
, thought Fort.
She can feel it
.

Now completely naked, Rusty turned back to the Dero and said: ‘Is this what you want?’

The creatures responded with loud, lustful grunts.

‘Well, boys,’ she laughed. ‘Good luck getting it!’ She glanced at Fort and the others. ‘When I’m through changing, climb aboard.’

‘Aboard what?’ said Lovecraft.

‘You’ll see.’

The transformation was rapid, and astonishing and terrifying to behold. Rusty’s beautiful naked form expanded and darkened, quickly shedding all resemblance to a human being and becoming…

‘A manticore,’ whispered Lovecraft. His mouth hung open in astonishment and his eyes were wide with wonder and terror. ‘She’s turned into a manticore!’

The great beast of Persian legend possessed the body of a lion – albeit three times the size of a normal one – and the head of a handsome, mahogany-skinned man with long, flowing black hair. From its shoulders sprouted two enormous, bat-like, membranous wings, and its thrashing tail was the segmented whip of a scorpion. The comma-shaped stinger at the tip was the size of a large watermelon.

The manticore’s mouth widened in a combination of snarl and feral grin, revealing three rows of glinting white teeth like those of a shark.

Enraged that the object of their lust had become this outrageous beast, the Dero howled and surged forward.

The manticore roared in return and brought its whipping tail to bear.

‘Get down!’ screamed Lovecraft. ‘The tail! The venom!’

They all threw themselves flat upon the ground as the barbed tip of the stinger sprayed a thick, milk-white liquid in every direction, drenching the onrushing Dero, whose bodies fizzed and bubbled and collapsed into melting puddles of gore.

‘Come on!’ shouted Fort as he shouldered the Teleforce Projector and climbed onto the manticore’s back, securing himself with great handfuls of the creature’s long, thick fur. The others followed suit; Capone climbed onto the hindquarters, whose muscles flexed and rippled as they took his weight.

The bat wings spread wide and slapped the air, and the manticore launched itself from the floor of the shaft, its handsome face straining with the effort. As it steadily ascended through the shaft, its tail swung around, spraying the Dero who were still clinging to the walls with its venom. They screamed and fell, landing amongst the others with loud, messy splats.

The manticore had reached a height of a hundred feet or so when an insistent bleeping emerged from one of Fort’s pockets. Reaching with one hand, the other still clutching the creature’s fur, he withdrew the Anomalous Oscillation Detector. The yellow light was on.

‘Hold on, Miss Links!’ he cried. ‘We’re within two hundred yards of the Falcon!’

The manticore paused in its ascent, its wings scything the air with great whooshing sounds. A tunnel mouth loomed directly in front of them.

‘In there,’ said Fort. ‘That way!’

The manticore surged forward and into the tunnel, alighting on the floor and folding its wings away. Fort and the others began to climb down, but the manticore said in a powerful, inhuman voice: ‘No! Stay on my back. Quicker like this, Mr. Fort. There will be more passageways. Tell me which way to go.’

Fort held the AOD in front of him, keeping an eye on the yellow light. ‘All right, Miss Links. Away we go.’

With Fort and the others still on its broad back, the manticore sprang forward into the darkness.

None of them noticed that they were being followed; that they had, in fact, been followed ever since they descended through the borehole from the surface of Long Island… by a small bat.

A vampire bat.