Lovecraft's Iraq by David Rose

Author:David Rose
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Screaming Banshee Press
Published: 2022-03-30T04:00:00+00:00

15.

14 2347C SEP 05

Greene empties his bottle into the waiting cap. Seated now, he ignores a handset busy crackling on his desk; pulling Arabic chants up its chord into the small space that is now otherwise silent.

It had been exhausting, explaining the mythos to Silver: who Lovecraft was, and, how after he’d died, more than one book-crazed zealot had stood fast that the gentle recluse hadn’t penned peculiar nightmarish fiction, but had bent his ear to the cosmos, transcribing things and beings and gods who truly were. Who are. If it was reality—being able to bring into flesh the creatures he’d put on paper close to a hundred years ago—then those zealots had been right all along.

Whatever disbelief Silver may have still clung to fled forever when Greene found Thunn'ha amongst the text of the confiscated page. Reading the incantation that it was incased in, Greene pointed then to the large humanoid frogs, patrolling a day lit fen in their now guidebook. Silver had watched as a mummified version of such appeared on the floor between them, long dead and motionless—even when Greene sent the corpse back in a flittering whirl.

A host of beings lay in wait on the other side. An ancient page struck true Lovecraft’s malign world. Greene knew, dabbling in such affairs was incredibly dangerous. No such pleas however stopped Silver from dragging him outside, one more time, this fevered experiment driven by an excited command he summon a Shantak and order it to “Find Nguyen.” When the beast reappeared, its languid nature and unflapped wings sent Silver back inside. Cries from somewhere nearby hastened Greene’s ending of the spell. The last thing he wanted was firmly agreed upon. Spectacular though it was, what deep magic they were wading through was best kept under wraps until having learned more.

Silver left with a co-sworn allegiance: they’d keep their discovery a secret. If summoning the Lovecraftian was the only insanity to fall in Greene’s lap, perhaps he would have raced to rejoin Silver in his trailer. But a series of recent events were unfolding and were starting to tie together. Greene had another concern.

Ever since the first reports started coming in about a child leader, many times when he was on his radios, Greene got jammed by some strange chant that soon dissolved his comms to static.

In Silver’s linear determination, he hadn’t noticed the generators lining the outside of the Quadcon. Connected to the necessary ports, Greene’s batteries now had their reinforcements. Greene had just pulled all the recoil cords. Liquor-wanting Motor T guys could go without the machines. Greene had started them one by one, moving back into his dark space and strapping in for another war. One generator had prolonged his ability to listen, three, rumbling and growling, may be able to bat back whatever was assailing his main radio.

Greene downs what he hopes is his last shot of the evening. That damn chanting already in full sway, he puts the handset to his ear.

###

The imam bellows.

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