Reincarnated Cthulhu

Chapter 8

08. Madame Curie

Since the commencement of our pursuit, I discerned a peculiar truth.

It was the presence of an encirclement.

The methodically honed encirclement constricted gradually, neither too swiftly nor too sluggishly. It was undoubtedly beyond the capabilities of untrained vagabonds to replicate.

A decade prior, during the Battle of Sardinia where I forfeited my leg, the characteristics of modern 21st-century warfare were evident.

The British naval blockade was an auspicious beginning, yet the coastal fortresses dispersed throughout the island precluded even the British forces from entering. My division, abandoned amidst the blockade, resorted to guerrilla warfare in squad units due to inadequate strength and limited resources.

A conflict that remains unrecorded in the tactical annals of any nation in the world, an unparalleled collective guerrilla warfare unfolded. For a year, both the isolated friendly and adversarial forces underwent tremendous tactical advancements.

It was peculiar indeed to evoke such a sensation within the slums of London.

"They're corralling us," I murmured to Curie, attempting to conceal my trepidation.

"Corralling us?"

"Recognizing that we've detected their pursuit, they're guiding us somewhere."

Had they harbored malevolent intentions, it would not have been difficult for them to cause us harm. Merely a middle-aged, limping man and a foreign woman were involved. Nonetheless, they craftily maintained their distance for some inexplicable reason. For now, our only option was to acquiesce to their intent.

As we delved deeper into the streets, we encountered an even more uncanny experience. Approaching the crash site of the meteorite, the ignition point, the number of scorched buildings diminished. In their stead, the remaining structures were all remarkably bizarre.

The strangeness lay in the buildings' lack of doors. Shoeprints were heavily imprinted on the open window sills, giving the impression that they served as entryways.

"Perhaps the ground has subsided. Could this also be a consequence of the meteorite?"

"I am uncertain."

I could not account for the scene before me using any scientific principles within my knowledge. Had the ground been sufficiently warped due to the impact, there should not have been buildings left so intact.

No people were visible, but innumerable footprints adorned the white ash heaps in the streets. The nature of the shoes eluded me. It seemed more fitting to label them handprints instead of footprints.

"It is peculiar."

Curie, too, appeared to sense the oddity of the street and whispered to me.

"Indeed, it does not seem as though the buildings were like this from the outset."

"Moreover, can you not detect the scent of the sea?"

The scent? I inhaled deeply, attempting to discern the aroma. Undoubtedly, the smell had shifted. It bore a closer resemblance to the odor of fish than the distinct stench of the Thames River.

"It feels as if we have entered another realm."

I concurred with her sentiment. If scent demarcates space, then this place was indeed a separate domain.

I conceded that I was utterly disoriented. In the military, I often ascertained my position merely by consulting a map, but my experience proved futile here. The configuration of the roads and buildings deviated entirely from what I had gleaned through the map.

The sole certainty was that we delved ever deeper into the labyrinthine streets.

"Are they locals?"

"Perhaps. But let us not provoke them."

At last, living inhabitants emerged from behind windows and within shadowed alleys. They appeared so gaunt that it was difficult to fathom them as Londoners.

How much time had elapsed since the calamity? The survivors were so emaciated that they appeared lifeless, gazing into the void and muttering in peculiar tongues. Their utterances resembled prayers, but I shuddered to contemplate the abhorrent beings to whom they offered their supplications.

By all that is holy! Some engaged in carnal acts in broad daylight, in the very center of the street. It was repugnant rather than titillating, akin to the coupling of wooden pegs. Life is often lauded as beautiful, but this was a grotesque excess!

I averted my gaze from the vile spectacle, finding the charred corpses more palatable.

We ventured further still. The scent of oil and waste that once permeated the entrance of the street had all but vanished, supplanted by the briny aroma of seawater and the putrid stench of decaying fish. The once modest Thames River now seemed as vast as the ocean.

Our pursuers had, beyond doubt, herded us precisely where they desired. They no longer concealed their presence. Rounding a corner, the shadows of our trackers became visible. A multitude of stalkers paced in unison with us.

Trudge trudge.

Clank clank

That cacophony! As they neared, the clanking reverberated. On stormy nights, when waves buffet the hull of an ironclad vessel traversing the sea, such a din is relentless. I questioned whether I trod upon land or sea, feeling as though pursued by some aquatic fiend rather than a fellow human.

An intuition told me we neared the conclusion of this relentless chase. A bridge materialized before us. It was the bridge leading to Jacob's Island.

Beyond the bridge, a vivid, chaotic green luminescence flickered.

"They're leading us towards the meteor," I murmured.

Curie inquired, "But why?"

I shook my head, devoid of confidence in rationally elucidating the enigmatic events at hand. All was contradictory. Together, we ascended the bridge. Our pursuers no longer concealed themselves.

Emerging one by oneslowly unveiling their presence, their numbers swelled to dozens. I marveled at how such a multitude could maneuver through the narrow alleyway in such disordered chaos. They appeared linked by an ineffable, arcane bond.

Yet, the issue lay in their visage. They resembled beasts garbed as humans rather than genuine human beings. Their eyes gleamed in the darkness as they observed us, unblinking as though devoid of eyelids. Some lacked noses, struggling to breathe, gasping with protruding tongues.

"Could it be some form of contagion?"

Curie furrowed her brow, proffering a rational hypothesis. But I knew this was no illness. I had encountered such descriptions before.

"Whatever the reason, from this moment forward, do not regard them as our equals."

"Is it because they are impoverished and ailing?"

Curie did not conceal her disdain for my seemingly heartless remark. I shook my head.

"It is because they are not human."

As we traversed the bridge, the ghastly truth of Jacob's Island's calamity was laid bare before us. The once-thriving cluster of buildings and docks had been reduced to oblivion.

In their stead lay a vast, gaping crater.

A bluish-green substance, perhaps moss or mold, clung tenaciously to the ashen ground. The river collided with the island's edge, its waves casting tainted water into the chasm.

At the very heart of the crater lay the meteorite, encircled by the moss-like growth.

As rumored, it emitted an eerie, luminescent green light. The unsettling glow ensnared the senses of those who gazed upon it from a distance. I averted my eyes, noting our pursuers had bowed their heads in obeisance to the celestial intruder.

Ah, yes, in a mere two days, it had become the unholy object of devotion for the island's denizens.

I could fathom the lure of their blasphemous faith, for the light held the power to enthrall the minds of those who beheld it. Like moths drawn to a flame, they could not resist the beguiling allure of this sinister radiance, even if it heralded their own doom.

Yet, it was not a meteorite.

"What is that?" Curie furrowed her brow, unable to discern its nature. Even one as perceptive as her could not fathom its true identity. I alone recognized it for what it was. Its descent from the heavens did not necessarily qualify it as a meteorite.

What had plummeted from the sky was an airplane.

Not some vague, otherworldly flying contraption, but a distinctly human-crafted prototype biplane. It was the result of an aviation mishap occurring a full eight years before the Wright brothers' historic inaugural flight.

Struggling to conceal my astonishment, I endeavored to deduce the cause of the catastrophic descent. The wings bore the telltale signs, their cross-sections cleaved cleanly, as if rent asunder by some formidable force. Debris was conspicuously absent from the vicinity, suggesting the damage had occurred mid-flight.

No matter how rapidly aviation advanced, early prototypes were ill-equipped to withstand nature's fury. Thus, during a tempestuous night such as the one two days prior, this ill-fated machine met its tragic demise.

I cautiously approached the aircraft's cockpit. A dried bloodstain marred the pilot's seat, yet there was no sign of a corpse or the like. It seemed inconceivable that anyone who had sustained such profuse bleeding could have managed to walk away unaided.

"I've never seen anything like this before"

Curie, on the other hand, was so captivated by the meteorite that she scarcely noticed the telltale bloodstains. The sight of her, bathed in the eerie green light, struck me as disquietingly portentous.

I discovered a charred metal tag upon the ground and retrieved it. Endeavoring to clean the soot from its surface with my glove, I realized that heat would be required to remove it completely. This object would likely offer a clue regarding the enigmatic cargo aboard this fateful flight.

Splash!

In that instant, the River Thames heaved violently. No living creature could survive in such a putrid morass. Yet, as I beheld the being that emerged from the muck, horror consumed me.

It had transformed into a monstrosity that could scarcely be deemed human. The most apt description of its form would be that of a bipedal fish. A viscous black substance, perhaps from the Thames or some other source, clung to its protruding gills and trailed to the ground.

Curie finally noticed the creature and gasped. Whether she was incapable of screaming or simply refrained from doing so, it was a fortunate outcome that she did not provoke the abomination.

"Bbugura!"

It rasped hoarsely, its unnerving voice straining the limits of human hearing and rendering it acutely discomforting to the ear. The grotesquely altered denizens prostrating themselves before the meteorite rose to their feet, as if in response to their leader or perhaps a priestly figure.

"What does it mean?"

"Regrettably, it is not English."

"Nor Polish, Russian, or French."

"Bbugura! Szhu-tuthnn'uun Anghuha!"

The priest, with only its eyeballs moving within its unnervingly vast, unblinking eyes, regarded us and raised what may have once been fingers, gesturing towards the exit.

"Is it telling us to leave?"

Curie and I warily began to retreat. The priest then bellowed once more.

"Ahu-Aphu'tn! Szuhatan Fhtagn!"

It extended a single digit, and after a moment's pause, pointed to the ground.

"It seems one of us must remain."

It was a chilling declaration, yet there was scant room for an alternative interpretation. Did they intend to take a hostage to deter us from summoning soldiers? Or was there some arcane religious significance? Regardless, it was a malevolent demand for sacrifice.

Nonetheless, we could not simply submit to their will. I could not abandon Curie here, even if I were to depart alone. Her intellect was a gift to mankind. If one of us must stay behind, it should be me.

I steeled my resolve.

Yet, before I could act, Curie strode hastily towards the priest.

"Wait!"

"Then I shall stay."

I reached out to restrain her, but the abominations had already interposed themselves between us, as though they had chosen Curie as their sinister tribute. I seized the arm of one of the grotesque beings attempting to apprehend me and twisted it away.

"Begone!"

I then struck another with my elbow as it tried to seize me from behind. It crumpled to the ground, spouting blue ichor reminiscent of fish blood. The atmosphere grew palpably hostile, and the monstrous beings appeared poised to assault me without hesitation.

"It's alright. Cease this at once."

Curie halted and turned to face me.

"You may perish if you remain here!"

"That is precisely why I cannot forsake you, professor. Besides, it is not a certainty that I shall die, is it?"

"It is not so simple! You!"

In that critical juncture, I faltered. What should I disclose?

That I hailed from the future 

That, in the future, Curie's discoveries prove indispensable to humankind

I could not make up my mind. She spoke before I could.

"I have pondered what you said upon our arrival."

I recollected my imprudent words. What had I uttered? That the meteorite's descent was an opportunity? It was but an inconsiderate comment. I had achieved nothing befitting a scholar in either my past or present existence.

Yet, I found myself speechless upon beholding Curie's countenance.

She did not exhibit the visage of one who dreaded death.

"This meteorite is what I have been seeking all along. Indeed, as you asserted, professor, this was an opportunity."

It was the frenzied exultation of a scientist on the verge of an extraordinary discovery. The rapture of a moth immolating itself in a flame that only it could perceive!

Recognizing Curie's genuine intent, I was powerless to dissuade her.

Moments later, the grotesque throng engulfed me, and the figure of Madame Curie vanished from my sight.

Creak, creak.

That night, wave upon wave crashed incessantly against the embankment of the Thames River's steelworks, as if driven by the tide.

In my 40 years residing in London, I had never witnessed the Thames so teeming with life. The appalling images that haunted my mind tormented me relentlessly.

All the shadows of London originated from these beings, and the waves of the Thames were their aqueous puppets. I could not elude them, no matter where I sought refuge. Their malevolent voices incessantly echoed within my ears.

"Bbugura Szhu-tuthnn'uun, Anghuha."

I was discovered on the banks of the Thames two hours prior. My extended immersion in the water had rendered my body temperature dangerously low, and I had contracted a stomach ailment from ingesting the river water. Although I attempted to warm myself with heated water, my body remained as frigid as a corpse.

I trembled.

What had become of Marie Curie? Had she been offered to their heinous deity at the conclusion of a blasphemous rite? Or had she transformed into one of those monstrous beings, worshiping the sinister green meteorite?

In my hand, I clutched a rifle I had not employed since my days in the military. I nearly embraced it. This lengthy steel rod provided more solace than any crucifix.

"Ahu-Aphu'tn, Szuhatan Fhtagn."

"Professor, what are you murmuring?"

The steel mill proprietor regarded me with a frown as he spoke. In his hand, he held a gleaming metal tag.

"I have eliminated all the impurities. What is the cause of this commotion at such an ungodly hour?"

He spoke with a tone of discontent.

I snatched the tag from his hand with great urgency.

There was but a single emblem upon the tag. I recognized its origin.

Richmond Co.

Upon verifying it, I fell into a swoon and crumpled to the ground.

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