‘Th’ Old Ones were; th’ Old
Ones are; th’ Old Ones’re gonna come agin...!’
We were
all packed into the Temple of the Esoteric Order of Dagon while Abner went into
his routine. After his invocation, the robed figures standing around echoed him
murmurously and made various holy hand signals. Sitting beside me, Barney Marsh
followed suit and I reflexively copied his movements. I craned my neck to look
across the aisle and saw Ned and Winston and a few of the other guys sitting
hunched forward rebelliously, looking as if they had better places to be (and
that of course would be a correct assumption). They all looked jittery and on
edge; Winston kept rubbing hard at his nose and Ned’s face was covered with
white powder, as if he’d been interrupted while putting his clown face on. I
shook my head and turned back to tune into what Abner was saying.
‘Word’s
come in from th’ ether,’ he said staring around at the gathering, ‘that our
borders’ve bin violated. Drowners are comin’, an’ that’s bad news fer the
community.’
A
movement caught my attention and I saw Winston raise his hand and half stand
up.
‘Sorry, Grampaw,’ he said, ‘what’s a Drowner, please?’
Abner
thumped the floor with his cane and it echoed hollowly. ‘Dang, Winston! Din’t
you pay attention in Temple school? You asleep that whole time?’
‘Maybe
I just missed that class...’ Winston muttered lamely and sank back down in his
seat.
‘Miss
your own dang head if’n it weren’t nailed on!’ Abner rattled the floorboards
once more. He turned to scan the congregation.
‘Fer
the benefit o’ my iggerant grandson – and anyone else who oughtta have bin
payin’ attention – Drowners is vermin; parasites what prey on the Great Old
Ones. They go sniffin’ out our communities and settle in, unbodied an’ corrupt;
eatin’ up our prayers an’ a-feastin’ on our thoughts, so’s we don’t hear the
dreams o’ the Lord o’ th’ Abyss ‘n’ he cain’t hear ours.’
There
was a hushed murmur through the room and some more frantic ritual gestures. I
figured that Winston had already taken one for the team, so I raised my hand.
‘Excuse
me please, Mr. Gilman, sir: but what does a Drowner look like? And how do we
deal with it?’
‘Lan’
sakes, boy!’ Abner shook his head irritably, his boot-blacked head shining in
the torchlight, ‘din’t I just tell you they’s “unbodied”? You cain’t see ‘em;
you cain’t touch ‘em. But they’s there, sure ‘nough. Sometimes they bring their
own worshippers with ‘em – witches and such like, hungry for power – them we
kin deal with, but Drowner’s like weeds: you gotta pull ‘em up by the root, or
they jist keep a-comin’ back.’
He
stood up and leaned heavily on his cane.
‘We got
wards around the town that keep us hid from Drowners, so’s they cain’t see or
hear us. First thing we needs to do is check ‘em and make sure they’s still
where they’s s’posed to be – if’n they’s a hole in that net, then that’s our
first piece o’ business, to git that mended.
‘Else
ways, mebbe someone went out past the wards and caught their attention, some
way. Then, they mighta jist follered that idjit home, straight past the wards
and on inta Town. If’n that’s how it went down, I sure wouldn’t wanna be that
idjit once we find ‘im.’
Little
bits of information were plinking and plopping into the bourbon-soaked pool of
my brain. I took great care not to look over in Winston’s direction.
‘You
two,’ Abner’s stick pointed starkly out across the throng in my direction and I
tuned in quickly, ‘you two kin go out an’ check the western ward – that should
be simple enough fer you to do. And you...’ Abner pointed in another direction
and issued more assignments.
I
looked sideways at Barney Marsh and found him looking likewise at me. We had
never gotten along too well. I mean, it’s not that we were enemies, it’s just
we were into different stuff: I was into heavy metal; he was more of a punk
fan. We’d both been in the school football team, but Barney had left when he
decided to quit school. Like me, Barney was big and strong; unlike me, Barney
was feeling the Change a lot earlier than anyone else I’d met. I mean, he was green for Gods’ sake! He stood up,
creaking in his leather pants and jacket over his black Ramones t-shirt.
‘You
wanna get this done?’ he said, jerking a thumb towards the exit.
‘Uh
sure,’ I answered, ‘just waitin’ for you.’
He snorted
and lurched towards the door; I stood up and drifted in his wake.
Outside,
the moon silvered down over the Temple and we could hear the distant throb of
the disco from the Gilman House.
‘Where’s
that piece o’ shit car you drive parked?’ Barney asked.
I
stopped to light a cigarette. I used the time that took to consider whether I
should be annoyed or not: there was serious stuff going down and the murky pool
of my mind was still bubbling away.
I
clapped my Zippo shut. ‘Over there,’ I said. ‘Wipe your boots before you get
in.’
Abner
had handed out the assignments, but Stan Eliot had given us all the
particulars. Or goal was one of the old railway tunnels along the abandoned
rail line that had once taken trains to Rowley. The line had been torn up shortly
after the Innsmouth citizens had been allowed to return to the town and all of
the tunnels (three in total) had been sealed with heavy wooden doors and
chains. Our mission was to examine the furthest one of these, in which a sacred
totem had been hidden – one of the links in the net that warded the town and kept
us hidden from the Drowners.
I slid
behind the wheel and twisted the key in the ignition. A burst of jangling,
discordant music burst forth from the tape player. I stabbed the eject button.
Squinting at the tape I looked over at Barney who regarded me with a
questioning gaze.
‘The
Sex Pistols?’ I said. I tossed the cassette into his lap and grabbed another
from a number scattered behind the windshield. I quickly inserted it and turned up
the volume.
‘Barney,’
I said, ‘when you get your own piece o’ shit car then you can decide what music
gets played inside it.’
I
gunned the engine and we slid off into the darkness, with “Paradise by the Dashboard Light” bellowing from the speakers...
To Be Continued...
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