Dagon Rising(44)

But now was not the time to beat herself up over choices made. She had to be at the top of her game. Had to be quick thinking.

And right now her quick thinking was telling her to listen to this island holy man.

Susan was peppering the old man with questions. Despite the fatigue that was evident in her face, her voice never wavered. “You mentioned the name Dagon. I’m an anthropologist who specializes in ancient history. There was a Babylonian god called Dagon.”

Wade interrupted her. “That theory has been disputed.”

Susan turned to him. They were walking rapidly down the tunnels, following Josel and Keoni. “The name originates from Judah. It’s mentioned in the Old Testament.”

“I know,” Wade said. “But even that’s been disputed. The name is said to originate from the early fifteenth century and is most likely a Canaanite deity—”

“If you ask me, it sounds like something out of Lovecraft,” Ed said.

“Who?” Susan looked at him.

“H.P. Lovecraft,” Ed answered. “He wrote a series of stories about a being named Cthulhu and a cult that worships a range of deities that live in a sunken city.” He addressed Josel. “What did you call this place in Mount Rigiri?”

“R’lyeh.”

“That sounds about right,” Dr. Steinhardt said. “It’s been years since I’ve read Lovecraft—probably since college—but that name sounds familiar. I was never sure about the pronunciation, though.”

“Isn’t H.P. Lovecraft a horror writer?” Jennifer asked. Just what she needed. To get another fucking horror writer involved. The mere thought of it made her head pound even more. She almost laughed out loud, wondering if Rick Sycheck would have appreciated the irony.

“He was a horror writer,” Ed corrected her. “He died in the late nineteen thirties.”

“What’s the significance?” Wade asked.

“Many of his stories are part of a cycle of tales about a myth of alien-entities that came to earth during prehistory hundreds of millions of years ago. They settled here, built cities, and were somehow either banished to the outer cosmos or imprisoned in a watery grave like this mythological city R’lyeh. In the stories, a cult is always trying to summon them. Cthulhu is the main god. You mentioned Cthulhu before, Josel.”

The holy man was five feet ahead of them, but at the mention of the name Cthulhu, he visibly shuddered.

Susan frowned. “So Dagon is another name for Cthulhu?”

“In fiction, no.” Ed said. “But in real life, apparently yes.”

“How is this possible?” Wade asked. “These people could not have possibly read, much less been aware of twentieth century pulp fiction to have come up with such a hackneyed scheme to keep us off their goddamned island.”

“Are the Dark Ones a scheme?” Ed stopped in his tracks. He faced Wade, who stopped in front of him. Susan and Jennifer halted, watching the exchange with bated breath. Ahead of them, Keoni and Josel had paused and looked back expectantly at the scientists.

“Because let me tell you right now,” Ed continued, “I’ve studied those things for the past three years and they are unlike anything we have ever seen. They are unlike anything of this world. There is no evidence of them in the fossil record. No record of them at all. Yet, they had to have come from somewhere. And with the evidence we’ve uncovered for the past three years since the attacks on DC and the east coast… how coordinated they were…and in conjunction with other findings we’ve made…and with what we’ve learned in the brief time we’ve been here on Naranu…”

“What discoveries?” Jennifer asked.

“Aside from their brain structures being completely alien to any life form on earth, we’ve uncovered writings,” Ed said. “Off the Ivory Coast of Africa, off the north shore of Norway, the southern tip of South America…all places where Dark Ones have been wiped out in recent years. Ancient writings on the walls of the underwater caves they were tracked to and destroyed in. We’ve employed linguists to try to decipher them and after three years we are no closer to deciphering any of them. They are unlike any form of writing we’ve ever seen. They don’t resemble any kind of primitive language.”

“Why were we not told about this?” Wade asked.

“Because the Livingston Administration wanted it kept quiet at first.”

“At first?”

Ed nodded. “Yeah. And then, when we were ready to announce our findings, we were hushed up.”

“By who?” Jennifer asked. “Livingston?”