Ch.117Ch.8 – And Then There Was Nothing (2)

It was a bit longer than a hand span, with a body about as thick as a thumb. The brown leather-like skin shimmered with scales reflecting the sunlight.

“What a good little one. What’s your name?”

Abashina extended her finger, circling it above the snake’s head as if handling a cat rather than a serpent.

The snake flicked its tongue a couple of times before turning and disappearing into the undergrowth. Behind the bushes was a retaining wall built of medium-sized stones. The snake had likely slipped through the gaps between the rocks.

“This is the first time I’ve seen a snake on Pollard Island. And a baby at that. How did it get here? Did it arrive on a cargo ship? Or maybe someone released their pet?”

While we were discussing this, Crayfield and Father Michael came out to the yard. Both their faces were flushed, and the smell of alcohol wafted from them even from a distance.

“Really, you two should drink in moderation! At this rate, we’ll run out of alcohol to sell!”

Crayfield shook his head.

“No, Sister. Why think only of us? Consider the alcohol’s perspective too. It’s sparkling there, practically pulling in sunlight, begging to be noticed. How could we just ignore it?”

“Indeed, indeed. Refusing kindness too persistently becomes an illness itself.”

Even as he spoke, Michael’s hand was fidgeting in his pocket. He seemed about to sprinkle more alum powder.

“That doesn’t seem very effective, you know?” Abashina replied without thinking. Michael’s hand froze.

“What do you mean?”

“Over there. A baby snake appeared earlier. I remember you sprinkled quite a bit in that area.”

Abashina pointed to the bushes where the snake had disappeared.

“A snake? Really? What did it look like?”

“It wasn’t very big. About as thick as a finger, plain brown with no patterns. Could it be venomous? That would be terrible. It would be problematic if people visiting the church got hurt.”

“Hmm.”

Father Michael crossed his arms and stared at the bushes for a while. Somehow, he seemed to have sobered up a bit.

“I understand. I’ll look into it. Mr. Crayfield, Assistant. I enjoyed today. Next time, let’s explore the differences between Barcelona and Porto wines. See you soon!”

We headed to the parking lot. This time I took the wheel while Crayfield sat in the passenger seat. As soon as we got in the car, his expression changed dramatically.

“My friend, if a snake appears on an island with no snakes, the reason is obvious. This is a case! Remember our newspaper clippings? I said something would break here.”

What was it about? I searched my memory.

“Pollard Island Natural History Museum.”

I remembered.

It’s common knowledge that Mayor Arthur Black has been trying to develop Pollard Island as a tourist destination.

Despite various incidents on Pollard Island, the mayor has used them as opportunities for exposure. He invited famous architectural designers to model the new town while making efforts to clean up unsightly debris as quickly as possible. And he published all these processes in media like the Pollard Times and the Arkham Times.

Enormous advertising costs were incurred, but thanks to this, Pollard’s image successfully transformed from “an outdated city unable to escape its whaling glory” to “an old father striving to take a new step forward.”

Innsmouth’s sinking actually benefited Pollard. Interest in eastern Massachusetts cities increased dramatically, and substantial additional budgets were allocated to cities large and small, including Pollard, Kingsport, Arkham, Ipswich, and New Bedford.

Not just the federal and state governments, but even Congress lined up to announce measures to support the neglected cities of the eastern United States. They seemed to think it was atonement for the fall of Innsmouth.

As a result, a museum—something the mayor had desperately wanted—was established on Pollard Island.

This revealed the mayor’s excessive enthusiasm, as the main museum building hadn’t even been completed yet. There were accusations flying back and forth—that he was commissioning a famous architectural firm in Washington, that commissioning Washington when there were perfectly good architectural firms in Massachusetts showed a lack of local patriotism—but Crayfield saw all of this as highly intentional.

It was truly noise marketing with great effect at a low price.

“Here’s the funny part. They’re using the Chase family’s annex as a temporary museum. They’ve even already prepared items for exhibition and are buying additional pieces.”

The Chase family hadn’t been completely wiped out, but their power had been significantly diminished. Their income decreased, banks tightened the purse strings, and when cash dried up, they couldn’t even pay their taxes.

There was much talk about how the Chase family’s annex came into Pollard City’s possession, but regardless, the nominal reason was “for tax payment.”

Yet Mayor Arthur Black insisted on renovating and expanding that annex to use as a temporary museum until the new museum building was constructed.

“The location itself is good. Right between the dock and downtown, with the scenic Wayne Field alongside. Such scenic spots are rare on Pollard Island. But I’m concerned about why the mayor is rushing the museum opening so much.”

It could be because of the additional budget that needed to be executed as quickly as possible, or perhaps he wanted to act first before any unnecessary checks from his supporters or the chamber of commerce came in. The name “Natural History Museum,” despite its grandeur, was difficult to satisfy either Pollard natives or new settlers. Those continuing Pollard’s traditions still wanted to emphasize the name “whale.”

Back at the office, we reopened the scrapbook. Crayfield pointed to one clipping. It was from yesterday, a brief news item.

“Here it is. A report that Senator Annette Cole and Pollard City Hall have been major players in the antique and ancient artifact auction market. They’re mainly buying ‘items worth preserving that once belonged to Pollard.’ You’ve heard that Pollard’s whaling ships went as far as the Pacific, right?

They would have brought back many exotic items, and this suggests they’re buying back those items that entered the market. Suspicious. They can’t use additional budget for this, and it wouldn’t be just a small amount.”

Crayfield read the line below.

“Another auction will be held in Arkham City, with the same content. A snake suddenly appearing, Pollard’s prestigious families becoming major players at auctions while suspiciously obsessed with the museum. Is this really a coincidence?”

I thought Crayfield would be interesting if he wrote novels or compiled newspapers. To someone unfamiliar with the situation, this would sound like an excellent conspiracy theory scenario.

I asked what was so special about the snake that made Father Michael and Crayfield react this way. Instead of answering, Crayfield first lit a Camel cigarette.

“If you asked me for evidence that human lives are all fundamentally similar, I’d point to mythology. World myths have many similarities. Achilles and Baldr are characters from different worldviews, but both were immortal beings who met their deaths through trivial circumstances.

Of course, I’m not claiming that ‘humanity once lived together in one place, then scattered for some reason, but they still remember the myths from when they lived together.’

But some myths are unlike any others in the world. I’m not talking about originality. I mean literally alien, unfamiliar, completely different feeling things.

The snake god, Yig, is one such deity.”

It was a name I’d never heard before. Crayfield tapped his cigarette ash and continued.

“Snakes are dual creatures. They neither live above ground nor below it, but traverse both worlds. Snakes protect crops—they keep mice away. But some snakes have deadly venom that can harm people.

In the Bible, snakes are portrayed as wise but also as the tempter of the first humans, Adam and Eve. Yet when a plague spread among the Israelites wandering in the wilderness, God told Moses to lift up a bronze snake so that whoever looked at it would be saved.

But Yig has no such duality. He’s a simple being. Quick to anger and quick to calm. And very persistent. He always repays both kindness and grudges. And he’s fundamentally sinister.

And our Father Michael almost always sprinkles alum wherever he goes. I don’t know how our priest became entangled with the snake god, but it’s easy to infer that their relationship isn’t friendly.”

So had Yig followed Father Michael here? Crayfield shook his head.

“Well, I’m hesitant to say this. It sounds like I’m suggesting Father Michael is the source of the problem. Rather, we should focus elsewhere. Why now, of all times? Of course, it could be coincidence that the snake appeared just as they’re opening this ‘Natural History Museum’ or whatever it is, but how could it appear precisely in the church garden?”

Crayfield stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray.

“Like other gods, Yig won’t show himself. He’ll use his subordinates. Unless the snake was molded from sand, it must have come from outside. Right? And most cargo to Pollard has to go through the dock. Hmm… Assistant, do we have any urgent requests pending?”

Many requests had come in, but we hadn’t signed contracts for them. There was nothing that only we could solve or that needed immediate attention.

“Then let’s put everything on hold. I’ll join you on this one. Yig is literally like a snake’s head—unless you separate the head from the body, burn each part, and bury them in the ground, he’ll definitely rise again, the vicious creature.”

I suspected he was concerned about Father Michael’s safety, but it wasn’t a bad thing to see him so enthusiastic.

Working with him was always a new and enjoyable experience.

“Good. Let’s make a plan. I’ll look into Father Michael’s side. I’ll have a drink with him and find out what happened with the snake. As for you, any good ideas?”

As Crayfield said, most cargo is required to come through the dock. And the Pollard dock is under the control of the White Hand. It might be related to the organization, so whether she’ll grant my request is uncertain, but it seemed worth trying.