“See, that’s what I mean,” Wade said. “Supernatural elements. We aren’t chasing a bunch of boogeyman hocus pocus shit.”
“No, we aren’t.” Ed sounded frustrated. He looked at Jennifer as if imploring her to help him. She wished she could, but she was as confused about the connections he was making too.
“If this Dagon thing is mentioned in Lovecraft’s stories, what do the Dark Ones have to do with it?” Jennifer asked.
“In several of Lovecraft’s stories there are creatures called Deep Ones. They’re similar to our Dark Ones, but they’re the result of hybrids. The mating of humans with a race of creatures that came to earth millions of years ago. These Deep Ones live in underwater cities and caverns, but they can pose as humans anytime they want. I remember one story in particular. I think it was called The Shadow Over Innsmouth. It was one of the central stories of this particular myth cycle. Anyway, they worship a pantheon of gods known as the Great Old Ones. Father Dagon and Mother Hydra are minor Old Ones. Together with Cthulhu, they form a trio of gods the Deep Ones worship.”
“But the Dark Ones are unlike any life form you’ve ever seen,” Jennifer said. “How can anybody see a connection unless they’re well-versed in the stories of Lovecraft?”
“They wouldn’t see that connection,” Ed admitted. “You’re right. Most people wouldn’t, but still…”
Wade muttered again under his breath.
“I find it hard to believe that for seventy years nobody has made a connection,” Jennifer said.
“Maybe somebody did in the past and something happened to them,” Ed said quickly. “Maybe they received the same warning that my colleagues and I received. For all we know, other expeditions have been made to this island. Maybe they never returned.” He turned to Keoni. “Keoni? Can you ask our guide how many scientific expeditions have been made to his island by US or European scientists?”
Keoni addressed Josel. “How many American have been to Naranu for study?”
“Too many to count.”
“Did you drive them away?”
“Some.” The tone of Josel’s voice hinged on a lie.
Jennifer pounced on it. “Did you really drive them away or did you kill them?”
Josel stopped and faced Jennifer. “People like you have been coming to Naranu for almost two hundred years. We held them off as long as possible. The few that slipped past us…many of them never made it out alive. Some…I have heard some have become…what do you call it? Famous, well-known disappearances.”
“Oh yeah? Like who?”
Josel shrugged. “Names escape me at this point. I only recall what my great grandfathers have told me, of various scientific expeditions coming here and going into the jungle to what you call Mount Rigiri. They never came out alive.” He paused. “The Dark Ones ambushed them. Took them down, deep into R’lyeh.”
“And their disappearances weren’t investigated? I find that hard to believe.”
“They were always investigated. When white people came looking for their brothers, we told them their people had left. Some believed, others didn’t. Those that didn’t, we would make an effort to show them that we pretended to care about their missing people, so we looked for them. Then we sent them off the island.”
“But it probably didn’t happen enough to raise enough suspicion,” Jennifer said, mostly to herself.
“No, it didn’t,” Josel said. “Now, we must go.”
He turned and began heading back down the tunnel.
“This is bullshit,” Wade muttered.
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” Ed whispered. They were moving along at a rapid pace behind Josel and Keoni.
They fell silent as they followed the two South Pacific natives. Jennifer’s mind was racing. Her time with Rick before and after their siege at Peachbottom had been short, but overall she’d liked him. She’d talked to him only once on an extensive intellectual level, six months after Peachbottom, at a dinner held in their honor by Augustus Livingston. They’d exchanged numbers at that time. She’d never called him, and she wondered if after everything that had happened to Rick since Peachbottom if he’d changed his number. She wished she had her cell phone with her now so she could call him, ask him about this H. P. Lovecraft guy and what his stories were really about.
Then, for some strange reason, her thoughts turned to Tony. She knew so little about him, but Jennifer doubted the cocky Italian was a fan of this Lovecraft character. She could just imagine his reaction—probably something funny and crude. The thought made her smile.