Harbor Troubles

The voyage over to Mexico was a tiresome affair. Moira Baker spent many long hours mending wounds of her compatriots. On the evening before they were scheduled to arrive at Campeche, most patients were feeling much better, and thus she told her former patients to go fuck themselves as she made a sombrero out of a dried grass basket, downed all the alcohol from her big medicine bag, and started using two pill jars as maracas.

From the diary of Franz Alter:

Campeche seems to be teeming with revolutionaries of every political color. S/S William Alexander was not being unloaded, and the longshoremen of Campeche were holding a political meeting on the evening of Sunday, June 14. Mackie, Felix, and myself decided to pay them a visit, and it turned out that the longshoremen were praising Leo Trotsky and spreading rumors of Yankees coming to dump wages and use their own labor. We spoke to the chairman of the longshoremen's union, a wiry young man named Felipe Augustin, who simply adores Trotsky and all that he stands for, global revolution and all. We had quite an argument, but eventually we decided to meet next morning to negotiate a mutually beneficial solution to our disagreements. Interestingly enough, it seemed as if nobody could find the origins of the rumors about Yankees. Is this the result simple slander, or is there some other force behind these rumors?

A strange incident happened later that day, only hours after the longshoremen started unloading the William Alexander. I was schvitzing quite a bit in the Mexican sun, and I looked up as I removed my hat to wipe to wipe my brow. It was then I saw a large crate filled with tools coming loose from a crane and almost crushing Mackie and Felix. I yelled, and they dodged the crate, but by the narrowest of margins. Upon examination it turned out that someone had tampered with the ropes attaching the crate to the crane. I can't say I feel too welcome to Campeche. We decided to place guards by the Willaim Alexander as well as by the warehouse we were using as a staging area. The Cormoran was left under guard by the other members of our party and Captain Sharkey.

From the diary of Dr. MacNamara:

When we found out that the longshoremen were refusing to unload the William Alexander, we managed to find out the whereabouts of their foreman, a certain Ramon Sotomayor. He was sitting in front of a puddle of cheap beer at a harbor bar called Primavera Bar, and he was both rude and not very interested in helping us, not to mention large and loud. He went on about Communists, conspiracies and what the Guardia Civil should do with them, but he was of little help.

Ramon Sotomayor

Although Dr. Evan Sinclair has been most helpful and efficient in organizing the expedition, there's still so much to be done. It seems as if we'll have to stay at the Bristol for a week or so before everything is offloaded, checked, and assembled. We also had dozens of graduate students milling about, and it was a good thing that we established a guard schedule, since these young men and women need something to do. However, we still need to find out who harbors ill will to us! I do not know what to think, but I may have spotted one of the men who were staking us out outside the Santa Anna Hospital in Havana. What is going on?    

From the diary of Felix Jeremiah:

So, I was teamed up with this strange guy Franz to do the midnight shift guarding the warehouse where we were stashing the stuff for that expedition. Franz Alter is an odd bird. Clearly a kike from the Lower East Side, he seems to be really skilled in the use of all kinds of chemicals. But I'm, telling you those hands. They are creepy. It seems as if could strangle a squid with those hands. And then, let me tell you about his mother! That guy Freud would have one or two things to say about their relationship. Anyway. Perfesserdocter MacNamara had the shift before ours, and she was sitting smack in the middle of the warehouse under one of the two dim ceiling lamps reading something about Egypt, like the dirty secrets of Cleopatra or something similar. She was smoking a cigarette, and I decided to play a trick on her a surprise and sneak up behind me. My plan didn't really work out the way I wanted to, since I stepped in a pile or really stinky shit, fresh from something's butthole. Not that I'm a poopologist, but the turds didn't seem to come from a human. Mackie MacNamara was laughing her breeches off, while Franz simply looked uncomfortable. This was when we heard a really throaty growl that ended Mackie's bout of mirth. She walked up to the door, but the fucker was locked from the outside!

Something was stalking us in the shadows of the warehouse, and fortunately, Franz had brought a flashlight, and both Franz and I were packing. I was planning on climbing up on a pallet of boxes to get a better view of things when an ear-splitting roar was heard, and an enormous panther leapt over me and down on to Mackie, who was holding Franz's flashlight and a chair. She managed to get the chair between her and the panther just before the light went out, and the darkness was only illuminated by the flailing flashlight and muzzle flashes from our guns. After what seemed like an eternity, the panther was shot dead and Mackie pretty badly mauled. Moira and some of the members of the expedition were breaking up the lock, and later on we found a large cage that had been pushed up against the other end of the warehouse. According to Foreman Sotomayor, this was the work of Commies and Anarchists, but I dunno.

Tracking the Medicine Man

 Sunday, May 10, and thee Three Amigos were finally preparing to leave for Carizo Mountain, hopefully to find the whereabouts of Old Horse Medah Mitchell and what he was up to with that dreaded ancient cult of Yig. Cannon, McCloud and Ashford were however pleasantly surprised when a visitor showed up in the early morning hour. It was Chief Ruiz of the Antahueca Apache, and he declared that he was coming along to Carizo Mountain. He had also managed to find what seemed to be a drawing of some kind in Old Horse’s small house, and by simply flipping the drawing upside down, it turned out be a crude map of Carizo Mountain with several locations marked with stars and circles. The map was definitely going to make things easier for Ashford, Cannon and McCloud, while having Chief Ruiz along would be a most welcome addition to the expedition. They had all come to respect and like the Apache chief, and even come to appreciate his dry humor. As extra precaution, the Three Amigos also included Nurse Pettenkoffer, the abominable serpentine baby from the reservation, and Esteban, one of Ashford’s most trusty ranch hands, who had been part of the original confrontation with Otto Argo. His friend, Daniel, had suffered a horrible death at the hands of the Mi-Go, hos brain being carved out of his skull by the alien physician-monsters.

The Map. Red lines indicate distances covered by bus, while green dashed lines indicate hiking.

They also decided to bring along a mule in a horse cart behind the bus, and with full stomachs after one of chef Thibaude’s amazing breakfasts, they were off. The weather was promising, and they reached the mountain late that Sunday. A camp fire was lit, guard details worked out, and nature reminded the small party of its ferocity when an enormous black bear approached the camp in the middle of the night. Fortunately, some extra food managed to distract the bear, and the power of fresh bacon led the bear out into the night again.

 

They decided to leave for the first location in a wide gorge on the west side of the mountain, and although the terrain was reasonably easily traversed, it was still a tough hike. McCloud and Chief Ruiz led Cannon, Ashford and the mule along narrow and winding paths, while the rest of the party stayed by the bus. The very end of the gorge contained a strange figure composed of sticks, feathers, odd stones and some beads. It seemed to be fairly old, but nothing else was noticed, so the party trekked back to the bus.

The next day saw another excursion up towards the actual peak of Carizo Mountain. The going was much harder, and although the small party didn’t have to climb the peak itself, they were sweaty, hungry, and exhausted in general when they came back to the bus late that Tuesday afternoon. They had, with the help of McCloud’s and Chief Ruiz’s amazing tracking skills, encountered an abandoned hut on stilts. Chief Ruiz assured the Three Amigos that this was built by Old Horse, and they also found a small skeletal figurine in the messy remnants of the hut. Chief Ruiz examined the figurine, squinting his eyes and weighing the figurine in his left hand. “This is a Death Stalker. It is a totem of significant power. It will take away one death from the person possessing it.” Frank Cannon wasn’t really sure what to believe, but he took the little figurine and placed it in his shirt pocket. As the party started back towards the bus. Bill McCloud was convinced of one thing: they were not the only hikers on Carizo Mountain. Someone wearing size seven boots was also scouting out the mountain trails. The tracks were no more than a day old.

The Death Stalker.

Wednesday turned out to be a remarkably foggy day. The dense swirls of mist seemed to absorb much of the sounds of nature, but the party nevertheless pressed on. The southeast side of the mountain had a weird old totem pole of pre-Apache design, but no other items of interest. They then travelled further north until the expedition encountered a fairly wide stream, and they all came to the conclusion that this was the final stop for the bus. The next leg would be on foot, so to say.

It was decided that nurse Pettenkoffer, the supposed brood of Yig, and Esteban would stay by the bus, while the other members of the expedition continued up towards the remaining sites. This was the most difficult hike so far, but whoever wore the size seven boots seemed to have the agility of a mountain goat. Even McCloud would have hesitated to take some of the paths that were negotiated by the unseen fellow outdoorsman. As they pressed onwards and upwards, the small party became aware of the typical sounds of the mountain becoming increasingly muted, and eventually being replaced by an eerie quiet. Then they noticed signs, symbols and wards, as well as one of the white prehistoric snakes that seemed to be associated with all kinds of ill portents. One of the signs, a painted animal skull, was also adorned by a chord with a symbol that seemed oddly out of place in the native American designs. Frank Cannon, being a consumer of all kinds of pulp and esoteric fiction, recognized the symbol as the seal of Justified and Ancient Mu, a symbol that was oddly out of place here in New Mexico. But what was it that Father Bose had mentioned about Justified and Ancient Mu and their battles against the snake people of hoary Valusia?

 

All of these discussions came to an end when a large stone, seemingly out of nowhere, almost crushed Frank Cannon and Chief Ruiz as it landed in the middle of the small party. The stone turned out to be the calling card of an old nemesis, the monster assembled by parts of corpses that was created by Old Horse to fight off the ranchers of Otto Argo. The monster bellowed furiously and attacked the terrified investigators, swatting Chief Ruiz and Frank Cannon to the side and lifting up Bill McCloud in an attempt to tear off his arms and legs. Lotus Ashford opened fire with a shotgun on the grotesque monstrosity, but to little avail, while Bill McCloud kept on chopping at the abomination with his Bowie knife. Fortunately, Frank Cannon lit a dynamite stick, and as the monstrosity nailed McCloud to the ground in an attempt to once and for all dispatch of him, Cannon jammed the dynamite stick into one of the cavities created by Ashford’s shotgun shells. The ensuing explosion threw lumps of fetid flesh all over the mountain side and doused the members of the party in putrification.

The seal of Ancient and Justified Mu.

Several of the party members were battered and bruised, but they decided to follow the path to the final point on Old Horse’s map after trying to do some cleaning up. An hour, Bill McCloud did find a small hut, and inside the hut, the body of Old Horse. He seemed to be comatose, and Chief Ruiz explained that he was surrounded by powerful glyphs and symbols to ward off anyone who might interfere with the ancient medicine man. A pipe and a tobacco pouch was lying at his side, and Chief Ruiz expaliend that this might be the way to travel to wherever Old Horse might be, and to finally confront him and his wrongdoings. It was decided that Lotus Ashford and Frank Cannon would smoke the hallucinogenic substance, while Chief Ruiz and Bill McCloud guarded their mortal bodies. Cannon and Ashford were in for a blood-curdling surprise

Newspaper Clippings at Sea

Dr. MacKenzie MacNamara from the Miskatonic University's Department of Egyptology believed in being prepared, as long as she herself didn't have to deal with the actual practicalities of being prepared. In this case, however, she had decided to use her Spanish language skills to read up on Mexico in general and Campeche in particular. She ordered several stacks of news clippings before leaving Havana, and they were promptly delivered at the concierge's desk at the hotel she was staying at. Now, she had been busy for the first couple of days of their sea journey, after the interlude at Punto Aguirre she could comfortably stretch out in the aft section of the Cormoran and start going through the clippings:

- Local politics? Boring.

- Financial news? For twats.

- Fine arts and culture? Interesting as such, but nothing relevant to this expedition.

- Strange criminal cases, catastrophes, and general gossip? Now, this seems promising!

Mackie spent several hours going through clipping after clipping, carefully sorting them in three piles: irrelevant, background information, and special interest. The latter pile only held three articles, and she had already read them twice. She was smiling gleefully as she carefully arranged and re-arranged the articles. Just wait until she could tell her comrades about this, and just embellish the stories a little, little bit...

EL INVESTIGADOR

Campeche, March 1, 1925

Fire Engulfs Workshop of Suspected Molester, Killing Twelve

Last night saw horrific scenes unfold in downtown Campeche as suspected molester Guillermo Ruiz, 47, set alight to his workshop where a dozen young boys were working as cobbler's apprentices. Early last evening, Guardia Civil had surrounded the workshop, demanding that senor Ruiz give himself up. Senor Ruiz has been suspected for quite some time to force the young apprentices to engage in truly unnatural practices, both with each other and with senor Ruiz. As the Guardia Civil closed in, Senor Ruiz did not surrender, but instead blockaded the entrance and set the entire workshop aflame. There were no survivors.

Senor Ruiz

El Pelicano

Periodico politico y mercantil de Campeche

April 22, 1925

The half-ruined mansion of the late socialite Vera Varroquin has apparently acquired new denizens. Several late-night workers have seen strange, winged creatures skulking around the mansion at night, and sometimes these apparitions seem to have made weird, unearthly sounds and even threatened terrified by-passers with some form of hellish damnation. To The Pelicano, this seems more like the fruits of vivid imagination fueled by mescal, but then, one cannot be too sure.

Drawing of the Villa Varroquin

EL INVESTIGADOR

Campeche, November 26, 1924

Mad Clergyman Shot, Killed and Drowned

Father Jean Victor de Galba, also known as "Frenchie" was pronounced dead this morning after his body had been dragged up from the Campeche harbor. He had been shot several times before throwing himself into the water. Father de Galba, or "Frenchie" was fleeing from the law when the Guardia Civil caught up with him and opened fire.

This was the culmination of a long and disturbing investigation. Over the course of the last eighteen months, Guardia Civil had found at least six victims, two men and four women, who had been violently strangled to death and at some point had had their eyes gouged out, supposedly so they "wouldn't be able to see God". Initial investigations pointed towards Ernest de Galba, a local eccentric artist and the brother of Father Jean de Galba. The priest had apparently framed his brother for reasons unknown to El Investigador, and it was only through the superior and persistent detective work of Locotenente Eduardo Alvarez that he found the true villain. Father Jean de Galba was apparently arrested on November 24, but he managed to escape after brutally strangling a member of the Guardia Civil. A wild chase followed, and Father de Galba was eventually and repeatedly shot by members of the Guardia Civil.   

Father de Galba.