Dagon Rising(45)
“No.” Ed shook his head. “Not by the government. At least, I don’t believe it was the government. In truth, we were never sure exactly who they were. Some of my associates claimed they were from a foreign agency. One poor bastard even insisted that they were from something called Black Lodge—a conspiracy theorist’s wet dream—this paranormal paramilitary agency. But whoever they were, these people made it very clear that the knowledge was not supposed to be shared with the general public. They were very…persuasive.”
“Were you ever able to complete the translations?” Susan asked.
“Not even close. As I said, they don’t resemble anything we’ve ever seen before. Three years of hard work down the drain.”
“If I’m successful in getting you off this island safely, I will be happy to translate for you,” Josel said. “Now we must continue. We cannot afford to stand here and argue. Come!”
He turned and began heading down the corridor again.
Sensing that time was of the essence, Jennifer joined Josel and Keoni. The others followed, but the argument continued.
“How can the writings of a horror fiction author be real?” Wade asked.
“Ever read Communion by Whitley Streiber?” Ed answered. “According to him, aliens kidnapping people to stick probes up their asses are very real. It happens to him all the time.”
“So?”
“Strieber was a horror fiction author before he wrote Communion .”
“Who’s Whitley Strieber?” Wade sounded confused.
“The stories in this myth cycle written by Lovecraft,” Susan said. “How is it that you’ve come to the conclusion that what we’re experiencing is related to them?”
“I’m not saying they are,” Ed said, a tinge of frustration creeping into his voice. “I’m only telling you what I’ve learned from studying these goddamn things and what I know from reading Lovecraft in college.”
“I’ve never read anything by him, so you’ll have to educate me.” Susan said.
“Neither have I,” Jennifer said. “But I know somebody who probably has.”
“That horror writer you were trapped in Peachbottom’s basement with?” Ed said.
Jennifer nodded. “Rick Sycheck.”
“I didn’t go to ten years of college just to have everything I’ve worked for undermined by a fucking pulp fiction writer,” Wade muttered.
“Will you shut up?” Ed snapped.
Wade scowled. “Hey, don’t get pissy with me, Steinhardt! You’re the one who brought this bullshit up in the first place.”
“Both of you calm down,” Jennifer said. “We’re in a world of shit here, and the last thing we need is the two of you shouting at each other. Sound carries in these tunnels, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“She’s right,” Keoni said. “Please, let us continue on our way, and with less bickering.”
They walked on. Jennifer wondered how the old man, Josel, was able to be so energetic. She was exhausted, out of breath, and sore. Josel, however, seemed absolutely athletic, bounding down the passageway without even breaking a sweat.
Must be that clean island living, she thought.
Their footsteps echoed softly in the corridor. Josel whispered something to Keoni in their language. Keoni glanced back at the group and shrugged.
“What did he say?” Wade asked.
Keoni grinned. “He says that all of you talk too much.”
“Why hasn’t anything like this been reported on in other archeological records?” Susan asked, ignoring the comment. Unlike Wade, she sounded open-minded to hear Ed out.
“It has been reported,” Ed answered. “You said yourself that there are references to Dagon in the Old Testament.”
“Indeed,” Susan agreed. “Dagon was a Semitic god. He appeared in other texts, as well. An eighteenth century letter to King Zimri-Lim of Mari, for example. But Kaatholulu, or however you pronounce it—I’m confident that he’s never been mentioned anywhere, outside of these fiction stories you mentioned. Nor has there been any evidence of a sunken city or extraterrestrial life forms arriving on earth in the Paleozoic era or any period there-after.”
“What you’re suggesting borders on insanity, Dr. Steinhardt,” Wade said.
“Do you have a better explanation, Wade?”
“Yeah, I do. How about we do what Jennifer suggested and shut our traps and try to let this witch doctor and Keoni get us out of here?”
“You need to know what we might be dealing with,” Ed insisted. For the first time, he looked worried. Panicked. “It’s true, I read Lovecraft back in college. It’s been forty years or more since I’ve read him, but some of his stories have always stuck with me. It’s fiction, yes, but the way he wrote them…their precise logic in science and archeology and history always attracted me. I always attributed his stories to pure fantasy due to what I thought were the supernatural elements in them.”