Early October in Arkham

 

The Miskatonic Valley northwest of Arkham

Pollack, Jeremiah, Baker, MacNamara, Alter, and Lake returned to Arkham on the late afternoon of Tuesday, September 13. They were all in need of rest, and in certain cases, recuperation. Fortunately, circumstances allowed for a couple of uneventful weeks, although the intrepid investigators were kept busy.

Jules Pollack was happily still going through boxes of goods brought up to Arkham with the MacNamara Expedition. It was good to back in the store and to sleep in his own bed. Mrs. O'Flaherty was still a gem, and both the store and the living questers were kept in ship-shape. The Mexican and Caribbean items from as far back as the early 1600s were selling like hotcakes, and all seemed good. However, on the morning of Friday, October 2, a beaming Burlington Jones came into Pollack's office. He was carrying a sealed envelope. "Mr. Pollack, I am handing in my resignation, I'm afraid. You are a great employer, and I have really enjoyed my time in Arkham, but it is time to move on. I am moving to Washington to start a position with the Federal Bureau of Investigation." Jules Pollack was flabbergasted. "But, my boy, what shall I do? I do, of course wish you the best of luck, but you will be sorely missed."

Felix Jeremiah had also made some profit from the MacNamara Expedition, mainly by taking percentages of some of the deals he helped haggle for Pollack. He and Alter were renting a room each above Lakeview Books, and there was plenty to do, including some odd jobs as a bicycle messenger and general busybody.  Edgar was recovering from the excursion to Rochester, and it was better for him to have the apartment to himself for a bit. Arkham was incredibly quaint to the urbanite Jeremiah, but boy, there seemed to be some weird stories going around, and quite a few of them centered around MacNamara and Pollack in particular.

Franz Alter was debating. He had two alternatives for his future pharmacy. One being the former Blackwood's on West Armitage Street, just across from Richard's Bakery, provided a central location, but the space was just a bit smaller than he had envisioned. The ceiling height was amazing, though.

The other location was on West Hight Street, across from the Uptown Park. It was a bit off the beaten path, although the storefront was nice. The plumbing was, however, sub-par. Decisions, decisions...

Howard Lake had been left in the caring hands of his mother Melissa. Howard's sister, Violet, set up a schedule with Dr. Henrietta Queeg. Queeg, who had previously treated, amongst others, Moira Baker, assured Mrs. and Ms. Lake that he would be well taken care of, and after a couple of weeks he seemed to be on the mend.

Violet Lake

Moira Baker realized that she was back in Arkham just as the Fall semester started. She spent some time together with Mackie and at the registrar's office, but she was uncertain what courses to take. Actually, she even had the option to enter a M.D. program at the Miskatonic University Medical School, but also had enough acumen to get her accepted into most programs, with the exception of the Miskatonic School of Economics.

Mackie MacNamara enjoyed working from her home office while Karen spent time in her small coop. There was still quite a bit of follow-up work from the MacNamara Expedition, and she gave interviews to several journalists from all over the country. On Friday, October 2, Fall really seemed to be starting in earnest. The doorbell rang at exactly 9 a.m., and although Mackie wasn't expecting any visitors, she decided to open the door nevertheless, something she wasn't necessarily in the habit of doing. She was quite surprised to see Special Agents Smith and Jones on her front porch. "Dr. MacNamara, we have some questions."

  

Driving back from Rochester

“Why do we always end up in these wretched situations?” Jules Pollack broke the silence as he spoke to his friends in the crowded car heading down from Rochester and the Blackwood cabin. They were all worse for wear, with injuries mixing with dirt and grime from their ordeal in the old cellar. Lake was sleeping, having been sedated by Franz Alter after Moira Baker tended to his wounds. Mackie MacNamara was awake, but in no pain despite her arms being doused with lye through the misguided efforts of Franz Alter. Short sleeves would really not be an option in the future. The mysterious ring that was found in the cellar was now on Howard Lake’s right ring finger, and that had made whatever horror they had been facing disappear. So, Lake’s mother’s family had some 18^th century forefather that bound malign forces to cabins in New York State? Jeez…   

Jules Pollack continued, despite the deafening silence in the car. “Ok, let us get back to that lawyer, Joseph Klein, provide him with the evidence that Howard’s uncle Arthur Blackwood didn’t kill his wife, bid our adieus, clean up at the Waldorf, and then take a nice train trip back to Arkham and one of Mrs. O’Flaherty’s legendary dinners? Let's have Klein deal with Harvey Dent, that NYC prosecutor who was after ole' uncle Arthur.” Moira nodded slowly, while Felix just shrugged. Franz Alter was looking out through the window, and he was methodically reviewing some of the spots he had reconnoitered for a pharmacy. His mother would be ok, he told himself. After all, she had the cat.

Joseph Klein

Karen had finally calmed down, and Mackie was leaning over the cage. She would worry about her job and her future later, after a nap. The MacNamara Expedition was still weighing her down, and she kept on going over what could have been done differently over and over again. Perhaps she’d just devote her remaining career to quiet research and publishing before… she was out as a light before she could complete her thoughts.

The Blackwood cabin

Jules Pollack looked at the dormant figure of Howard Lake through the rearview mirror. He remembered the dashing young antiquarian that he had met on the train to Los Angeles, where he was to purchase a book for his bookstore, Lakeview Books. The original store had been destroyed by that automaton that had chased Howard Lake due to something that might take place in the future, in 1929. Fortunately, Lake’s mother, Melissa, and sister, Violet, were not in the store when it blew up, and a new Lakeview Books had since opened. Lake really didn’t look all that dashing now, but Jules hoped that perhaps the psychiatric skills of Dr. Henrietta Queeg might help him get a grip and return to a semblance of normality. Funny, though, this entire story about Mrs. Lake’s brother Arthur and their heritage…  

The cellar below the Blackwood cabin

Tentacles in the cellar

ARKHAM ADVERTISER, Monday, August 31, 1925

 GALA OPENING AT MISKATONIC

This Saturday, September 5, the Miskatonic University will hold a gala opening for an exhibition titled "The Ancient Wonders of Guatemala". The exhibition will feature photographs, drawings and rare objects that were found by the MacNamara Expedition that returned to the United States in late July. Mayor Jonathan Bryce will be opening the exhibition, and he explained to the Arkham Advertiser that he is proud of the academic doggedness and persistence of Dr. MacNamara and the members of the expedition: "Despite facing daunting adversity, the expedition pressed on, fueled by the bold curiosity that is so characteristic of Miskatonic's finest and most daring faculty members. I am certain that I speak for all Arkham when I extend my sincere congratulations to all members of the MacNamara Expedition". "Ancient Wonders of Guatemala" will be open to the public until December 20. 

Miss Amanda Bowman, a graduate student at the Miskatonic University's Department of Egyptology, told the Arkham Advertiser that the expedition suffered through a major earthquake that was noticed in most of northern Guatemala and southern Mexico. The earthquake cost the lives of Dr. Evan Sinclair as well as students Mr. Kenzaburo Miyagi and Mr. George Ellis Wright. Unrelated to the earthquake, Dr. Emil Radetzky and student Ms. Ellen R. Dumont fell victim to a notorious serial killer in Campeche, Mexico. 

The Shoggoth Factory

Dr Mackenzie MacNamara had a difficult time falling asleep that Wednesday. June 17, and she was tossing and turning in her bed. She decided to take a stroll to the S/S Willian Alexander, perhaps to have a chat with Moira, or just to think. She went down below, into Moira’s makeshift lab, and heard loud retching noises. Moira was mumbling ”just go away, go away”, and it turned out that Moira Baker had managed to ingest a small sample of the German E-Stoff, and she was feeling the full effects. Once again avoiding a fountain of vomit, Mackie decided to leave the ship and go back to the Bristol Hotel. This is when she noticed a strange package hanging from one of the cargo cranes a couple of berths away. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be the limp body of Doctor Emil Radetzky of the Department of Early American History. This is when something snapped in MacKenzie MacNamara, and she ran back to the Bristol. The last thing she remembered was crying and thumping at the door of Jules Pollack’s room before waking up at sea on board the S/S William Alexander. Looking up, she saw a smiling Franz Alter, who looked down at her and said “I have very good bedside manners. Very good.” Mackie went straight back to sleep.

Jules Pollack had been fast asleep when Mackie knocked on the door. Knocking was an understatement, though, and her sobs could be heard throughout the hallway. Jules reached for his bedside glass of *cough* water, emptied it, and opened the door. It was Mackie, all right, albeit in a state of shock. Only one thing to do: call for Franz, and a bottle of whisky. Franz was more than  ready to administer a very special cocktail of chemicals, but he was still concerned for Mackie. Doctor MacKenzie MacNamara was worn out, plain and simple, and she had had a nervous breakdown due to stress and exhaustion. 

But what was going on with the killings? The members of the MacNamara Expedition were in a state of abject terror, and the expedition was on the verge of failure. Young Dean Abbott demanded that the expedition returned back to Arkham, preferably right away. However, the intrepid investigators were not quite ready to admit defeat. First of all, a killer had to be found, and a busy Thursday and Friday provided several leads, not only of who – or what – might be the killer, but also who the strangers from Cuba might be, and why they were keeping the S/S William Alexander under observation. Felix Jeremiah suggested breaking into Ramon Sotomayor’s apartment. Sotomayor stood out, since he had apparently just assumed his position as harbor supervisor a bit more than a month ago, and he didn’t seem to have any friends or acquaintances in Campeche. Secondly. Morale had to be boosted, and with the help of a grand performance by fetishist cross-dresser Erick Purkheiser, much steam was blown off.

Late that Friday night June 19, Howard Lake, Franz Alter and Jules Pollack were inconspicuously observing Sotomayor’s building, while Felix Jeremiah darted across the rooftops to climb down on a French balcony that might provide an easy entrance to Sotomayor’s apartment. He was concerned, though, since he had already observed one of the strange Westerners that had been noticed snooping around the harbor close to the William Alexander. Jeremiah entered the apartment without much difficulty. It was oddly spotless, with only some earth on an otherwise immaculately cleaned floor. The furnishings were sparse and generic, and there was remarkably little to go on as to ascertain the true identity of Sotomayor. 

Sotomayor's building was the white house in the middle of the picture.

Sotomayor personified anger, violence, and rot.

Meanwhile, Lake noticed Sotomayor returning to his apartment. He was in turn followed by a gentleman in a western-style suit. Sotomayor entered the small apartment building, but Lake attempted to stop the other individual. That was quite unsuccessful, though, since the stranger placed some form of suggestion onto Lake’s mind, forcing him to walk back to the harbor.

 

It was only a matter of minutes before Sotomayor found Felix Jeremiah hiding in the closet, and Felix was banged against the ceiling repeatedly. Alter and Pollack rushed to the rescue, and a wild brawl broke out. Sotomayor was, to the horror of Felix, Jules and Franz, apparently not a member of the living at all, and he was somehow controlled by the other man, who seemed to be yelling in Russian as punches were thrown and shots were fired. It was only as Lake returned that the strange protagonists were shot dead, and a quick search revealed that the man in the Western suit may have been named Arthur Zann, or more correctly, Arkady Zimin. The investigators looked at each other and simultaneously muttered “Proletkult”. They also secured a strange tube, perhaps eight inches long, which was sealed off on either end by caps carrying the strange star-like shape they had seen so many times before. The scroll inside seemed to contain ghastly details on how to re-animate and control a corpse by injecting some weird green ichor.

Arkady Zimin

After that dreadful evening that the intrepid investigators came to the horrifying conclusion that the vile agents of Proletkult must have dug up the corpse of Father Jean Victor de Galba, "El Franchese", and reanimated the corpse of that dreadful mass murderer to terrorize the members of the MacNamara Expedition in an attempt to convince most of the expedition to flee Mexico and leave the investigators in the hands of Proletkult. But why? What did Proletkult want with the distraught Yankees? What was their interest in the eggs, something that Zimin had asked about before violence and chaos took over.

It was decided to assemble a reduced expedition to brave the jungle and reach the enigmatic pyramid complex. Dr. MacNamara was simply not herself, so she would be left behind. Moira Baker was also to be left behind, since she was quite sick. That left Jules Pollack, Franz Alter, Felix Jeremiah, Howard Lake, Johnny Gale, Dorothy Gale, Dr. Evan Sinclair (formally the head of the expedition), Amanda Bowman, Kenzaburo Miyago and George Ellis Wright to press on. That Sunday, ten committed explorers and scientist with a dozen mules and all the equipment they could carry, left Campeche. They did bring the four eggs from the Cormoran with them,  since so much of the longseries of strange events seem connected to the eggs. All the advanced equipment, such as halftracks, compressors and mining equipment had to be left behind, and the William Alexander set out with the remaining members of the tattered expedition to Campeche Bay, separating them from the tragic events that had  befallen the expedition.   

The trek through the primordial jungle was exhausting. Heat, bugs and other strange forms of wildlife kept gnawing at both the minds and bodies of the explorers. After more than week of sweating and curing, they noticed a blow dart ledged in a tree trunk in front of Jules Pollack. The expedition was soon surrounded by scores of natives, and they explained to Kenzaburo Miyago (who knew quite a few native American languages) that the expedition could continue along the path ahead, but that they would be killed if they returned. After some discussions, the expedition nevertheless decided to proceed. 

It was Tuesday, June 30, when they saw the footsteps to a gigantic pyramid. Johnny Gale simply said "this is it", waving his hand towards the ancient and sinister-looking structure. The expedition took several photographs of the strange glyphs that decorated the complex, and as the expedition approached the entrance, several inscriptions in a more Egyptian style were noted. It was indeed a marvel!

It was around 4 PM before the expedition actually ventured down the narrow stairs into the pyramid itself, although Johnny and Dorothy Gale remained with the mules. The passage was quite dark, and once inside the moist vegetation gave way to dust and some sparse lichen. The stairs led down to what seemed to be a control room of sorts. The hieroglyphs indicated construction and building as well as manufacture, according to Amanda Bowman, the resident Egyptologist, who seemed to have some interest in Howard Lake, at least according to Lake. The control panel had a series of mind-boggling glyphs or symbols below a series of knobs and indentations. There was also a wide ramp leading further down into the pyramid. Lake and Jeremiah proceeded downwards into the darkness with utmost care and a firm grip around their flashlights. As they slowly walked down the ramp, they became a ware of a weird light phenomena at the end of the ramp, a greenish luminescent layer over egg-like shapes quite similar to the ones found outside Cuba. However, in this case there were hundreds, if not thousands of eggs.  

Dr. Sinclair, Miyago and Wright were most eager to examine the eggs, so they rushed down from the control room while Amanda Bowman and Jules Pollack studied the hieroglyphs. The phonetic symbols indicating sh-g-th were recurring, and she told Jules about her find. Jules Pollack felt a wave of dread flowing through his body, as he remembered the abomination in the cave they saw during Christmas a year and a half ago, the slime, the tentacles, and the ungodly speed at which the Shoggoth launched itself at Moira Baker...

Pollack shouted that the expedition had better leave the pyramid, but it was too late. Dr. Sinclair, filled with bold curiosity, had already pried open one of the eggs, and a mass of ungodly protoplasm billowed out from the pod. Sinclair's screams were beyond horrifying as his very molecules were torn apart by the blasphemous apparition, and the mere sight of it almost cost both Jeremiah and Lake their minds. Miyago was next to be devoured, and then Wright. Fortunately, Franz Alter had managed to decode some of the controls, and he made a wild guess at the function of what might be some form of destruction mechanism. It was, and the entire pyramid started shaking violently as if subjected to a particularly intense earthquake. Blocks were falling down from the ceiling, and there was dust seemingly everywhere. Only the shrieks of young Wright could be heard over the rumbling.

As Lake, Pollack, Bowman, Jeremiah and Alter raced up the stairs, they became aware of four individuals, two men and two women, blocking the entrance and sealing it off by some strange force field, looking a bit like heat over pavement, but effectively stopping anyone from leaving the pyramid. It was, as feared, the agents of Proletkult, Janis Sarts, Rosa Klebb, Miranda Guzman and Ivan Svetko. Sarts laughed as he expalined their devilish plan: "Thank you for leading us to this factory. By using the Shoggoths the USSR will rule the entire World! All of it! But first, they must be nourished to be controlled, and you, my friends, will provide nourishment. The global revolution thanks you ever so much!"

Nobody really figured out how the force field actually became deactivated. Perhaps it was the rapidly collapsing pyramid itself, or perhaps the presence of the ungodly Shoggoth. The intrepid investigators were however ready to act, and they were joined by Amanda Bowman, her firm and generous bosom straining against the buttons of her tight and wet cotton shirt. Lake may have been distracted, but not Miranda Guzman, who attacked Bowman. The fight was short and confused as the Shoggoth rapidly slithered up the stairs. Amanda Bowman knocked out Miranda Guzman, who in turn was devoured by the Shoggoth. So was Ivan Svetko, the four eggs from the Santa Ana and at least five mules before the entire pyramid collapsed upon the Shoggoth. Rosa Klebb was possibly Shoggoth fodder as well, and Sarts simply disappeared, his plans for world domination shelved for now.

Dr MacKenzie MacNamara woke up feeling confused. Why am I in my bedroom? Am I in Arkham? Why is Franz Alter sitting across the room? “I have very good bedside manners. Very good.”

The pyramid and Shoggoth factory

Glyphs surrounding the pyramid

Inscription in staircase leading to the control room

Inscription in control room

Inscription in control room

Inscription above the control panel 

The Shoggoth factory

An unholy malign mass of protoplasm!

Rosa Klebb and Janis Sarts

Is There a Curse in Campeche?

Mackie was lying on her deck chair on board the S/S William Alexander, eyes closed, and sweating. Not perspiring, and definitely not glowing. There was sweat pouring down between her buttocks, and the underside of her bosom felt like a Turkish bath. Also, the wounds from fighting the panther a couple of days ago were stinging, and they also itched. Any future expedition had better Antarctica, or she'd stay in Arkham. She opened her eyes, flicked away ash from her cigarette, and placed the cigarette holder in the corner of her mouth. She could feel the thin lines around her mouth deepen as she puffed on the exclusive Virginia cut. Shit, it is still only the early evening of Wednesday, June 17, and I'm both drenched and parched. What the fuck is going on here? First we had what seemed to be a case of intentional food, or rather coffee, poisoning yesterday morning. Could the perpetrator have been one of the longshoremen who came on board to work on unloading the cargo? Ramon Sotomayor was down in the galley together with several of his men to grab just coffee. That's also where Franz and Felix (what a name for a circus act) found what seemed to be a broken test tube with some remnants of a compound. Good thing that Moira has a small lab running for God knows what weird purpose.

The vomiting was wretched, and I'll be damned if young Theodore Fitzroy managed to land his cascade of sick in my first deck chair. Gretchen Weiss followed suite, and then Dean Abbott. They were all feeling better now, still rather weak. Damnation! Then we had the much more disturbing case just yesterday, when Ellen Dumont was found dead and nailed to the city walls early this morning, her eyes gouged out. The Guardia Civil wanted to keep this away from the press and general attention, since the murder bore quite some resemblance to the killings of "Il Franchese", father Jean Victor de Galba, who was killed by the police on November 24 last year. Moira and Howards did pay several visits to the Guardia Civil, and Colonel Suarez together with Tenente Juan Alvarez (who found Ellen Dumont) were actually rather helpful, although they were really worried about the impact of the impact of Ellen Dumont might have on Campeche. Il Franchese had really left the townspeople terrified before he was hunted down and killed. As it turned out, de Galba's brother was actually cared for by the nuns of St. Barbara after he was driven beyond the end of his wits. What a mess! 

We've told the members of the expedition to be vigilant, but the students in particular are getting more than a little worried. Even the faculty members are getting worried. Several of the students are grumbling, while others are frustrated and homesick. Most of them are really scared, though. Fear tinged with uncertainty.

Howard Lake was quite certain that he's recognized one of the shady characters from Sloppy Joe's in Havana that evening when he eventually decided to enjoy some fine female fauna before retiring from the bar. Those guys... they were foreigners, and they were accompanied by two women, one older, homely looking, and another one, a true Latina goddess with a fantastic cleavage and the grace of a jaguar. Hell, even an oiled jaguar, if there was such a thing. They took turns observing the St. Agnes hospital when we were dealing with the poisoned explorers, Leighton and Shaw. But what are they doing here in Mexico, in Campeche? The dock workers did not seem to know anything about these people, and neither did Felipe Augustin, the leader of the Trotskyist Worker's Union. Lake was not to keen to ask the dock master, Ramon Sotomayor. He was just too unpleasant, brusque, and frankly, uncouth. 

Felix Jeremiah had been all over the docks and city walls, trying to orient himself and getting a lay of the land. Campeche was indeed a beautiful town, and quite lively to boot. Felix enjoyed watching the locals go about their business, and he managed to order a snack and café con leche at an old but fancy café called El Matador. The place was plastered with bull fighting memorabilia, and it all seemed quite exotic to Felix. As he walked back to the docks, he could not help noticing a group of what seemed to be longshoremen talking to an older woman wearing a wrinkled and frumpy dress. She was clearly quite good at Spanish, although even Felix noticed an odd accent. He also picked up a name he recognized: "Cormoran", on several occasions. Felix was hunkered down between two stacks of crates and a voluminous sack, so his field of vision was limited. Yet, he could not help noticing money changing hands and the woman leaving at an remarkable pace. She was actually so fast that Felix only managed to follow her a couple of blocks before losing track. Dammit! 

Moira Baker was rather happy with herself. She'd actually been able to complete a basic but efficient lab on board the S/S William Alexander with the help of Franz Alter. Apparently Captain Hardee did not mind, but then, perhaps he really didn't know what was going on. The residue in the crushed test tube that Franz and Felix found in the mess was fascinating to work on, and she was glad she read about the strange German chemical experiments that had been conducted just before the end of the Great War. She was almost entirely certain that this was the Germans called E-Stoff, and although it wasn't deadly, it was incredibly potent, creating very powerful nausea, vomiting, and apparently eerie hallucinations as well for a good 24 to 72 hours. 

She found it weirdly comforting that Franz would enjoy watching her work, his hands crossed in front of him, and seemingly never blinking. This reminded her of... never mind. Alter would occasionally point at something with his unnaturally long fingers and actually offer good advice, so good that Moira was thinking of having Franz complete the small laboratory. However, Franz assured her that this would not be necessary, and that he enjoyed watching her work. After all, Franz had his rats, and he was thinking of getting a few more. His poison had worked quite well, but there were tweaks to be made. If he only had a larger subject to test the poison on. So many questions could be answered. Now, where is that rascal Felix?

Jules Pollack was feeling weary. He had been walking around Campeche for almost the entire day, and his legs were stiff. Not was stiff as the drink he was holding in his right hand, but stiff nevertheless. Campeche seemed to hold great potential when it cam to antiques, and Mr. Oswald Lee had been quite helpful in translating. The market on the East Coast was typically not that interested in Latino art, but with artists like Diego Rivera being mentioned in the New York Times, Jules felt confident that he'd be able to restore the finances if J. Pollack Fine Arts before the end of 1925.

Another good thing about searching for antiques was that he actually managed to pick up a rumor or two. First of all, there were rumors of another group of Americans, two young men and two young women, visiting Campeche and asking questions, apparently about some old building. Secondly, the murder of Ellen Dumont was spreading like wildfire through Campeche, and four major rumors were circulating: 

•        The Aztecs are after the MacNamara Expedition
•        This is the work of the Guardia Civil and other oppressors
•         This is the work of counterrevolutionaries
•      Il Franchese, the Terror of the Night, is back!

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