HUSH Read online

  “All the more reason.”

  “No. They’re after me. I just can’t,” he said. It occurred to him that, perhaps, he was in shock? That his mind had been bumped out of gear and was now freewheeling toward madness.

  “Jacob!” Maria snapped, furious.

  Suddenly he was crying. He heard the thick, dreadful sound of someone sobbing and thought for a moment that it must be a TV nearby. A bellow of sorrow and frustration exploded outwards and the sound shoved him to his feet. He lurched towards the door but somehow his feet became tangled in the rug and he went down in a howling heap.

  ... His whole body convulses, throwing out deep tidal waves.

  Something huge and dark heading their way...

  Tears coursed down his cheeks as his body coiled up, drawing itself into a foetal curl as the grief wrung him in its fists. His eyes were burning, his chest was. The girl in the cage. The poor girl. How could they save the girl? How could they save Morris? Maria? The puppies? Jacob? Anyone or anything?

  Somehow he’d knocked over an occasional table in his anguish, and now the floor was littered with broken china, pot-pourri and upended textbooks. Maria appeared above him and, kneeling, put her arms around his body.

  “Hush,” she breathed as she rocked him. “Shhhh, shhhh. There, there.”

  Finally, he was quiet. Weak and trembling, but quiet nonetheless. He stared at his shaking hands, the scabs and the bruises, the visible traces of the landslide that his life had been crushed beneath. So here he was, searching through the rubble as best he could, looking for the survivors he knew they would never find.

  A soft silence grew between them, interrupted only by the steady low murmur of the traffic outside. Something occurred to Jacob and he turned his face to ask it. He had to lick his lips a few times to get it out, though.

  “Maria, look, if something terrible happens to you, and you ... forget it, repress it, well, can it come back? I mean, surface unexpectedly? Haunt you?”

  She clucked at him, frowning.

  “Don’t be silly. All that recovered memory stuff is just so much bullshit, Jake.”

  “In your dreams, I mean. The unconscious--”

  “No, Jake. Look, that simply isn’t how memory works. If something awful happens to you--if you’re abused or in an accident--then you remember it all too vividly. You might well dream about it, too, but you’d have it there just as clearly when you woke up, believe me. Things that terrible don’t go away simply because you can’t bear them. Life isn’t that forgiving.”

  Jacob became aware that they’d come to rest in such a way that his hand was lying on her thigh, while his other arm was looped up and around her body, underneath the T-shirt which had ridden up slightly. The waistband of her knickers was scratching his elbow. The bare silk of her lower back slid along the underside of his forearm. He sensed his cock stir in his jeans, his breath stiffen... Even here, even now. He felt dizzy. He felt sick. Then he clutched onto her like he’d clutched onto the taxi’s upholstery- panic swimming up from the depths, that same blur of terror smearing behind his eyes.

  “What’s that got to do with Morris?” she asked, slicing through his terror.

  “I just need you back, M-- You’ve got to help me,” he spluttered.

  Maria shook her head sorrowfully. She gently disentangled herself from him and returned to her chair, picking her way across the cluttered carpet. With a shudder Jacob returned to the sofa.

  “Will they come here?” Maria asked, too swiftly to hide the tremor in her voice. Jacob clenched his fists very tightly, relishing the sprinkles of pain.

  “No.” He hesitated. “I don’t know.” There hadn’t been any photos of her in amongst the sheaf, none that he could remember, at any rate. Well, there hadn’t been any, had there? Had there?

  Then, quietly, reluctantly: “Maybe.”

  “You’ve got to go to the police. Right now,” she said tightly, and he could see from the unnatural stiffness of her neck that she was very afraid. “Jesus fuck, Jacob. What if they followed you here?”

  “But how can we go to the police? I’m a criminal. I’m on the run. And where’s the proof, M?”

  “Don’t call me that,” she said automatically, and shrugged when she caught herself. “Sorry.”

  “It’s all just hearsay. Their word against mine.” His voice was still husky from grief. He felt like a dry husk of himself. A brittle, desiccated shell, empty of ideas, emotions. Of hope. Oh, Morris.

  Maria stared at the floor, frightened. Then her face changed. It was like a cartoon light bulb had suddenly popped into existence above her forehead.

  “The disk,” she said.

  “What?”

  “The disk you took. There has to be something on there. Proof.” She turned smoothly to look across the room at the PC on her desk, its screensaver enthusiastically throwing pixellated stars in their direction.

  After a moment Jacob understood. He unzipped his jacket pocket and passed the flat plastic panel over to her...

  7. Thunder Rising

  12th Jan ’84.

  They found a body today. By some place called Tarbet, near Loch Morar, east coast. Farmer, I think. Remains in same condition as the animals. Very disturbing. Inner Council concurs: steps must be taken, top priority. F going to oversee pm in person, will return with corpse. Not to HQ, but to facility. All will congregate there tomorrow. Highest security in place. Watertight, a Black Veil operation. V instructs restraint, but none of this augurs well. V figures it could still be down to human agencies. Anyway, full investigation must follow. If necessary will use veto to ensure it does. Still, V’s wait-and-see policy= sensible. Tomorrow will tell.

  13th Jan.

  At facility F showed video first, recording of the scene. Not pleasant viewing. There was a dog with the farmer, treated in same manner. Mutilation follows identical pattern as previous livestock carcasses. Is it a ritual thing? (Note: check archives for cross match). Details: both corpses disarticulated. Multiple sharp force injuries, of sorts. Not from blows. Wounds surgical in nature. Neat dissection. Dismemberment. Bodies carefully dismantled, drained of blood (exsanguination) and arranged on the grass like engine parts. The fanciful metaphor is F’s, of course.

  pm added little to visual evidence. Pathologist couldn’t determine exact cause of death i.e., which of wounds was fatal. Thinks both were still alive when dismemberment began. Meeting of Inner Council convened immediately to debate implications. Result: wait and see (of course). Inner Council members to tour Highlands, etc, placing Fifth Circle wards wherever practicable. Next time we will be ready.

  19th Feb.

  No further developments. Still, charged by V with researching matter in athenaeum at HQ. The tiresome duties of high office.

  27th Feb.

  Am utterly sick. Had to trawl through all that rot shipped from Miskatonic. Unbelievable froth-at-the-mouth stuff: Prinn’s De Vermis Mysteriis, von Junzt’s Unaussprechlchen Kulten, Vaschimone’s Cyclical Cantata and Rhythmic Stigmata, Comte d’Erlette’s Cultes des Goules, Kayle’s Scarlet Shedding, Book of Dzyan, Book of Eibon, Revelations of Glaaki (Order’s own copy--great toppling photocopied pile of complete 12-volume edition. Gah!), Liber Ivonis. Abdul Alhazred? Famously mad, infamously tedious! “Cthulhu fhtagn, Cthulhu fhtagn ba-blah blah blah blah blah.” Jesus. Poetry too, ye Gods! Derby’s Azathoth garbage, and The People of the Monolith--Justin Geoffrey? Whatever. All becomes a blur after a while. Had to cast seven Shapes of Focus just to get through the whole lot without dropping off. Never been much of a scholar at best of times. Action is always best policy. B understands. Came to see me again last night. Not sure whether V knows or approves of relationship. F would fucking lose it, if knew. To hell with them. We are happy.

  Still, some hints in Glaaki, but inconclusive. More in Dyzan and the Corrin. One striking phrase keeps repeating: The Multitude. Hmm. Who are “The Multitude”? Find this curiously unsettling, but then hints always are. Give me the whole truth, straight-down-the-barrel every time. One other thing, not actually an entry. Marginal note scribbled by one of my predecessors beside passage in Scarlet Shedding which mentions, “The Multitude”. Note simply reads Some day they will notice us, and is underscored several times.

  Afterwards, had to resort to our own research material, dangerous though that is. Exhausted after visit to Lower Archive. Strength severely depleted. V demanding full presentation tomorrow.

  28th Feb.

  My précis of the relevant details, as presented for V:

  All texts that I can definitively class as pertinent to the case refer to it only in the broadest, briefest fashion. Elsewhere, can’t be sure about anything. Snatches, fragments, vague signs and frightened hints. Even in core texts all is allusion, run-around and hearsay, marginal ravings at best. It is almost as if the relevant material has been intentionally excised. Maybe no one dared to write anything down in first place? Nothing concrete to go on. But what I have gleaned: veiled suggestions of enormous physical size, but also a certain incohesion of corporeality. A manifold of dark impressions, like living shadows. Periods of nervous, agitated motion and/ or the possession of actual human bodies by multiple entities. Additionally, something like storm clouds, and peculiar deep-sea descriptions seem to be associated with historical occurrences of these manifestations. Plus, of course, that phrase “The Multitude”, with its attendant suggestive imagery and discomforting associations. Equally, and curiously, some references to a female figure. Tall, dressed in red. Not sure of significance, though, if any.

  All supposition, truth be told. V not pleased, but understood. Think my visit to the Lower Archive was the deciding factor. Not a matter to be undertaken lightly. Even so, am genuinely worried. Can’t see any way this could be actions of a human agenc
y. Is unarguably Order business, an incursion of some kind. Is V too hesitant? Is it time we “elected” a new suzerain? Should I be preserving my energies for a coming contest with F? Ho hum.

  B has been a great comfort in many ways of the night!

  5th April.

  No doubt now. Three more deaths, just as terrible. The Wards failed completely, but at least we were alerted promptly. A team was already there, dealing with other bodies. More animals. Excessively grisly: a sizeable herd of deer “attacked” (if that is the right word?). After death the remains had apparently been graded by size, and arranged in neat columns on the rough grass. No one could offer any theories as to this new behaviour.

  The three people, however--this is bad. They were campers. Tourists. Canadians, from Vancouver. Devil to cover up. Most curiously, though, their car had been stripped down as well (showing up F’s earlier “engine parts” allusion in a more literal and disturbing light), and the vehicle components incorporated with the human remains to form some rudimentary, hybrid collage. Terribly gruesome. Most troubling.

  What are we dealing with? No sightings yet, no physical manifestations. Only evidence. Only corpses.

  Might it be invisible, or capable of invisibility? Whatever. Something from outside has been well and truly unleashed.

  Extraordinary general meeting convened at HQ. Posting of Inner Council members to strategic towns around murder sites debated and passed. Naturally, F will co-ordinate. B volunteered to second the task force--wants to be in the thick of things. Am in two minds about this. Will be dangerous. Can’t even go to help, V instructed me to stay at HQ and develop defensive strategy. Do I detect F’s hand in this? Politicking already? Hmmm.

  13th May.

  Becoming more and more diff. to maintain covert status of operation. Leaks slip out regardless. Even some references in the press to “serial killer”. Something is definitely trying to break through. Are these the first sorties of an invasion force (???). Ye Gods! What if this is a full-scale war with something from outside? How could we even hope to defend the whole population? And our defences less than half ready! Still no one, none of the Order or the public has witnessed any physical manifestations. Why?!? All those hints from the research. Was I so wrong? Barking up all the wrong trees in a completely different fucking forest? Hope so. Hope I’m wrong.

  25th May.

  Can they take on human form-- the Outsiders? V thinks so, as does F. If this is true, our options in event of a full-scale invasion= drastically reduced.

  More murders. Corpses mount up. Cover-up nigh on impossible, there must be a cover story soon. Only vaguely heartening note is that murders are confined to isolated, outlying communities. No strikes at the population centres, as of yet.

  The towns are safe.

  1st June.

  F has been talking about using the Weapon. This worries me as much as the threat from outside. So dangerous, so foolish ... talk about last stand! But facts speak for themselves: peculiar sightings have begun, in abandoned areas. The hills, the Highlands. People report actually seeing her--tall, dressed in red, so it must be true, what V and F think.

  2nd June.

  Is this what some have feared all along? Can they cross the barrier unaided? So easily? The very heart of our Order under threat. It is the threat. A traitor in our midst. Our own power--the only strength we possess in the face of the enemy--will be our undoing! All these years have we just been standing in a dark room shouting, “Look at me! Look at what I can do! Look over here!”?

  Some day they will notice us.

  The Multitude?

  Can barely write for shaking. Gods save us all. What can we do?

  3rd June.

  At end of tonight’s Inner Council Meeting V launched into a great, grand speech about how we are the “custodians of the human race”. But all I could think of was how terrified I was. Throughout, B simply watched me, and F watched B.

  7th June.

  F and I almost fought last night. Not blows, but came close. Saw his hatred, could taste it. All started after an extended row over use of the Weapon, once again. A brief struggle, but inconclusive (think F saw sense pretty soon into it). But I was encouraged by how closely we were matched in strength. Even so, this is madness. In the midst of a silent, unknown war that might destroy us all, we are fighting each other!!!

  Madness.

  The cracks beginning to show. To widen.

  9th June.

  A dark, dark day. Terrible, terrible day. A whole village! The name? Hell, can’t even remember the name. Where? Where? F knows. Ask F. Well away from anywhere. Just a little spot of life near the hills, miles from anywhere. But. Dead. All dead. In the morning. A bright, still day by all accounts. And silent. Absolutely.

  The Wards warned us. They didn’t help, but they warned F and team, who went straight away. But even F wouldn’t film what they found there, will barely talk about it. Gods! The horror!

  It had been to every house, every single house in the whole village! Men, women, children, goldfish, livestock, cats, spiders, cars, even some of the buildings themselves. Taken from every circumstance: at the breakfast table, in bed, in the bath, even taking a shit, for God’s sake!

  Dismantled. Dismembered. Very, very carefully trimmed, sliced into neat, bloodless pieces and then rearranged into all manner of unnatural patterns. The whole village. Every single occupant of that doomed place.

  But worse still (or better, in a terrible way), IT was still there. It, the thing, the murderer was still lurking in the houses. Finishing off? Waiting to be transported back? Who knows. F and the others saw it. Drove two of them mad straight off--Inner Council members at that--just to lay eyes on it. They tried to send it back, but it wouldn’t go. They used all the castings they knew, but still it wouldn’t go, and they couldn’t make it. So they had to fight.

  F is guarded, says little of the thing, but was in conference with V for over two hours just trying to describe it. Later, V dropped hints--flakes of blackness, like living, pulsing ink; blades and feelers and tentacles, moving like maggots in the hot belly of week-old road kill. And one particular detail that won’t leave me, about its presence. When it attacked there was a dreadful hush that was stiller and denser and deadlier than normal silence.

  Don’t want to know any more.

  One other thing. F said they couldn’t even be sure whether entity was actually a creature at all--an actual Outsider--or some tool of theirs. Like a living, organic instrument. A remote blade. A living surgical implement, say? A scalpel with a mind of its own?

  Twelve adepts entered the village with F.

  Only F survived. Scarred inside. And the Thing finally left of its own accord, after its curiosity had been sated.

  Is this the end of our Order? End of our world?

  11th June.

  Visited the Lower Archive once more. Almost didn’t survive. Heart stopped. B there to revive me just in time. However, think have a plan. Very dangerous--stupidly fucking dangerous--but possible. Last chance. Only chance. Will put it to the Inner Council tonight, at midnight muster.

  12th June.

  Scheme was passed, unanimously. Am to compose my team post-haste. V wishes to proceed as soon as possible (the element of surprise?). No time to wonder why F changed allegiances so dramatically, now supporting me. Maybe his experience in the dead village? Seeing it?

  28th June.

  Tonight is the last chance. No other options, no other choices. If we fail then they will come through and there will be nothing we can do to stop them. They might destroy us all in one blow, or hide amongst us, dressed in our skins, for years, waiting and watching, toying with us. Playing. Experimenting, while we carry on dreaming of safety and sleepwalking to our doom.

  Tonight. B will be with me. I pray. I pray for us all. The night, the darkness presses at my windows.