Ch.144Interlude (1)

PM 8:33

Arkham City Hospital, Private Room

Arkham

Professor Armitage’s group had been moved to private rooms. Two federal security agents guarded each door. Neither doctors nor nurses were exempt from surveillance. The agents, who were either doctors or medical officers themselves, made it clear that no nonsense would be tolerated.

Depending on how you looked at it, this might be better described as imprisonment rather than security. Either way, this was Arkham, and this was the city hospital established by Arkham. And the current mayor of Arkham is known for his close friendship with Senator Annette Cole.

That explained the ominous looks from the Arkham police. Of course, mere local police couldn’t stand against the growing power of the Federal Security Bureau, but for civilians not belonging to either organization—especially someone like Professor Armitage, who was competent at fighting otherworldly beings but utterly helpless in human conflicts—it was an extremely uncomfortable environment.

“Yip…”

And with a puppy added to the mix.

Oddly enough, the little thing knew how to control its bodily functions. When white linen was laid down, it would somehow only relieve itself there. Knocking on the outer door would bring in a Federal Security agent with a disgusted expression to take away the cloth. Yet they showed the thoughtfulness to lay down fresh linen before leaving.

“It’s a strong one.”

The person who brought the puppy was Dean Eckerman from Miskatonic University. I had told Dean Eckerman about recent events and asked him to bring the Necronomicon kept in the Folklore Department. Along with a dog.

But I hadn’t expected him to bring such a tiny puppy, no bigger than a human palm.

“It’s from a farm. There was an epidemic. Its mother, father, and siblings all died, but this one survived alone. It has strength in it.”

Professor Armitage looked into the puppy’s eyes. Both pupils were covered with a white film.

“It’s blind.”

“The price it paid to survive. But you’d be surprised at how curious it is.”

Eckerman added:

“It reminds me of you in your younger days. First charging headlong, then being surprised, shaking your head once, and charging again.”

Professor Armitage stared at the creature’s nose. Clear mucus was dripping from its pink nose. Despite this, it was sniffing, sniffing, trying to catch the scent of its new owner.

“Shouldn’t there be no dogs in a hospital room, Agent Scully?”

“In principle, yes. But I’m not the hospital director here.”

Scully deflected the question casually.

“The hospital director is an alumnus of our school. Even took my lectures. He didn’t say anything about it. Are the other professors in the next room?”

Eckerman left. Only I, Scully, Professor Armitage, and the whimpering puppy remained in the room. The kind Eckerman had also left a bag of dog food.

Without a proper dog bowl, I served the food on a clean silver plate. I poured a bit too much, creating a small mound, but the puppy wagged its tail frantically and buried its head in the pile of food.

“Eat slowly.”

Armitage sighed first. The old professor’s hand hovered around the back of the creature smaller and more fragile than his grandson, then withdrew. It seemed they needed more time to become acquainted.

For a while, only the sound of the dog eating filled the room. It chewed the dry food with surprising vigor. The elderly professor looked out the window with moist eyes. The stars in the night sky were unusually bright, and some seemed to have grown larger.

They said distant stars were coming to Earth. Telescopes around the world reported that stars visible to the naked eye were gradually growing larger. But whether this truly meant the stars were “approaching” or if there was some other explanation remained unclear.

The seas had grown rough. Newspapers ran columns about the relationship between stellar gravity and wave heights—how the gravitational pull between planets affects the height of waves. In some regions, intensified waves had engulfed harbors, while in other parts of the world, receding waters had left ships stranded on sandbars.

Astronomers offered various analyses and opinions. Some were based on 20th-century scientific theories, while others smelled strongly of astrology—talk of Golden Crosses and planetary alignments. Of course, younger scholars insisted that celestial bodies lining up was a relatively common occurrence that might slightly affect waves and radio transmissions, but nothing to make a fuss about.

Surprisingly, even the general public showed interest in these views. Not that people were suddenly interested in science. What mattered was that higher waves and rougher seas created difficulties for shipping and transportation industries, reducing profits and driving down stock prices. Insurance companies were also expected to suffer major losses, while grain prices soared—naturally, if grain couldn’t be transported by ship, prices would rise.

The mantra “So, is this good news or bad news? What stocks should I buy?” was spreading even among neighborhood housewives.

“Even bank robberies have decreased lately.”

Catherine Scully tapped the hospital floor with her shoe.

“Rather than robbing banks, it’s better to set up a phone and run stock scams. It’s safer, cheaper, easier to escape from. And more profitable.”

Armitage continued to gaze at the night sky.

“What about insurance against the end of the world?”

“Meaningless,” Catherine’s tone remained as dry as ever.

“Insurance doesn’t prevent things from happening. It only compensates for what has occurred. And even that has limits. When unimaginable disasters strike, even insurance fails. Isn’t that how the system works? Thoroughly prepared for unlikely events, but pathetically vulnerable to what could actually happen.”

“I’d like to take out such a policy if one existed.” Armitage lowered his head.

“It reminds me of when we went to the reservoir. We were drawn to the colors it emitted, as if hypnotized. But what we saw was different from what you saw. How to describe it… we saw streets. People smashed like clay and streets. The colors were all different but monochromatic. Like Agrippa statues, you know? Like those sketches art students practice—made of points, lines, and planes with no details or features, just smudged impressions. We approached closer, and the whippoorwills surrounded us. Then we fainted.”

“Professor Armitage,” Catherine’s tone was full of hesitation. “I apologize for asking this, but do you know how you avoided becoming a ‘whippoorwill’?”

Armitage lowered his head. His shoulders trembled slightly. “Open my bag. Front pocket.”

Instead of Scully, I opened the bag. Unfastening the button revealed a round piece of metal. An old medal. Catherine Scully pressed her eyelids tightly.

“You know what it is.”

“How could I not?” Catherine shook her head lightly. Her voice returned to normal. “It belonged to Emma.”

“She called it a protective amulet. Said the reservoir was full of ominous energy. People went in but never came out. Emma passed it to me, but now I think I should give it to you.”

Catherine Scully silently accepted the medal that had separated the sisters’ fates. A round medal with an engraving of a human figure with an angry, open mouth and bulging veins.

I looked at the puppy. Having finished its meal, it sniffed around and then trotted over to Professor Armitage. It pushed its face toward the professor’s feet and began licking his ankle bone as if it were the greatest delicacy in the world.

“So… ahem… what about the water?”

“According to Professor Hartwell’s preliminary analysis, there’s nothing obviously wrong. However… it contains quite a few unusual components that need further research. Not typically found in ordinary water, but rather…”

“Rather?”

“The kind of substances you’d find in meteorites. Heavy metals. Radioactive materials… in extremely minute quantities, of course. But not the common varieties.”

“That water is now flowing into the water supply. Soon everyone in eastern Massachusetts will be drinking it. Perhaps they already are.”

“But how would you stop it, Catherine?” Professor Armitage rubbed his forehead. “Without irrefutable evidence, the city won’t even pretend to listen. And this seems a bit outside the Federal Security Bureau’s jurisdiction.”

Catherine seemed about to flare up, but I gently restrained her arm. We needed to think rationally. Could others see and understand the truth we had witnessed?

“Perhaps the answer…” Armitage looked at two books. One was the complete Necronomicon I had brought, the other the damaged copy from the library. Returning to the desk and sofa, Armitage opened both books.

“Yip. Yip.”

The puppy growled as if warning him to be careful. Scully stroked its back. Though slightly startled, it wagged its tail frantically.

“At this rate, it would make a terrible guard dog. It should bark at strangers, but this one would wag its tail even at burglars.”

Despite his words, Armitage’s face was full of smiles. Before immersing himself in the book, Armitage looked at me.

“But why did Mr. Crayfield give me this assignment? No, how did he know about this book, and how did he know it was ‘damaged’? And why did he mention a dog?”

I was curious about that too. But I couldn’t satisfy Armitage with a simple “I wonder.”

“Well, I’m just a salaried employee. How could I know what the boss is thinking?”

Armitage gave a hollow laugh and continued comparing the books. At some points he shook his head, at others he repeated the same pronunciation two or three times. It definitely wasn’t English.

As the professor read, an indescribable, eerie sensation tickled the back of my neck. The room’s light bulb turned off and on by itself, and what might have been static or human voices occasionally came from the speaker. We could also hear the wind wrapping around the building outside.

Each time, Scully would flinch and clutch the medal, but the well-fed puppy slept peacefully. Strangely, the drowsiness of this creature who had likely never seen the world provided considerable comfort.

“Ahem. So… this is about an invitation.”

Armitage cleared his throat.

“It’s very ancient language with tremendous flourishes. But if I just convey the content… the King sends an invitation. An invitation to Carcosa. There, a king dressed in yellow like gold awaits.”

An old story. Like a folk tale, so I wasn’t particularly interested.

“I see.” That was the most response I could muster. But Armitage wasn’t finished.

“Those who receive and hold the invitation begin to dream again. The dream gradually intrudes into their reality. Or rather, reality slips into the dream—the expression is ambiguous… In either case, in a world half-dream and half-reality, those who hold the invitation lose their way.”

As if on cue, I clutched the back of my left hand. The wound from the Necronomicon’s page had healed, but the scar still remained as evidence.

“Dream and reality. Fantasy and reverie. When reality and unreality mix, the path to Carcosa finally opens. Carcosa isn’t like a specific place such as a ‘natural history museum’ or the ‘White House.’ This is a metaphor, a metaphor.

The next page is… here it is. Those invited to the palace earn the right to enjoy the King’s entertainment. Performances. Songs. Plays. All that the King enjoys belongs to the guest. All happiness enjoyed by the guest belongs to the King. Intoxicated by wine drunk through the ears, feeling otherworldly satisfaction from entertainment heard through the mouth. However. However…”

Professor Armitage wiped his hands on the sheet. He moistened his lips a couple of times.

“However. Since humans are inherently fierce beasts, they will ultimately bare their teeth. If they do not eat human flesh and become intoxicated with blood, they will not stop… Erysichthon’s hunger! Erysichthon’s hunger! In the end, they will devour their own bodies until only upper and lower teeth remain…

The King is the same. He will finally drag down his brother who did not respond to the invitation. He will shake the world of one who refused the throne and dreams while dead. The King of Doors… gateway and key, gatekeeper, lurker at the threshold… he will gladly open the door. When that day comes, when that day comes.

A grand carnival will be held. Just as a bird does not pass by a mill, as a hungry lion does not ignore fresh meat, the blood flowing on the altar will draw them… The orgy of those who tear and eat their own flesh will call the lonely things wandering in search of entertainment.

And finally. They…”

Armitage closed his eyes. The awakened puppy howled. It sounded like the howling of a lonely, wounded wolf—impossible to imagine coming from such a young creature’s fragile throat.

“Professor.”

“They… they…” Armitage was agitated. I could see sweat breaking out on his forehead. I walked over with a towel to wipe his brow. But Armitage grabbed my arm. The old professor’s terrified eyes stared at me.

“They will find their father.”

Growling drums. Gasping flutes. The neurotic, giggling violin melody brushed past my ears. Unconsciously, I looked up at the night sky. I saw the yellow moon. Strangely, it seemed to be watching me like a sickly yellow eyeball.