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The Call	By : drowsteel Category: Titles in the Public Domain > Call of Cthulhu Views: 3041 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work fiction, based on The Call of Cthulhu by HP Lovecraft

Chapter List
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Tabitha looked in the rearview again, still unable to see the car that was following them. The road and night were dark, and the pursuing vehicle had no lights on. If it was even still there.
“Better cut our lights, too,” James said from the passenger side. “Flash the brights once, then cut everything off and drive as far as you could see when the brights were on. After that, pull off the road and into the fields.”
It sounded solid. Tabitha had never tried to evade a chasing car before. She’d driven without lights as a teenager, but right now the thought terrified her. She kept driving.
“Probably better to do it soon,” James said. “I’ll need a second to grab the rifle.”
The Weatherby .320 was in the trunk, strapped in a hard to notice spot up under the top of the back seats. Tabitha’s snubnose .38 was in its holster, but firing it was dangerous. It was registered to her.
“How many are in that car?” Tabitha asked.
James shook his head.
“Eight,” Mayumi said from the backseat.
“Eight?!” Tabitha sounded disbelieving.
“Eight. I saw before their lights went out.”
“How many in the back?” James asked.
“Five.”
James looked at Tabitha. “Do it. As soon as I get out and get the rifle, keep moving.”
Gritting her teeth, Tabitha flashed the brights then clicked everything off. Her breath stayed held as she tried to judge how far she’d seen.
“Keep going,” James said.
Tabitha became certain that she’d gone farther than the lights had illuminated. She started to turn.
“Go farther,” James said. “They still might have seen this far.”
Fearing a sudden obstacle, Tabitha pushed the gas harder. Something was going to be in their way. Or the road was going to turn. Or there would be a ditch.
Tabitha turned off the road and immediately realized why distance was important.
The car kicked dust high into the air, leaving a trail which would be easily visible even in the dark. As the car reached grass, Tabitha slammed on the brakes. James was out and at the trunk for almost two seconds before Tabitha knew he was waiting for her to hit the trunk release. She hit it, and he snatched his rifle out, slamming the trunk and waving her on, barely visible in the dark.

The pursuing car arrived in less than a minute. The dust trail left by Tabitha’s car had settled, and for a moment James thought it was invisible from the road. Then he saw the red glow of the brake lights.
Through his rifle’s nightvision scope, the lights looked bright as bonfires. He could see each man’s face peering out of the crowded car. He looked at the driver, a clean-shaven young man with acne. He might have been a high school student. His lips moved as the other men in the car pointed and excitedly guided him to their prey’s trail.
It had never bothered James to see the face of someone who was about to die. It was exhilarating to see the people who would have killed him, completely unaware that death was upon them. The driver would never know.
The driver reversed, preparing to turn after Tabitha. His head dropped suddenly as James’ bullet smashed his brain to pulp, tearing out the other side before lodging in the neck of the man next to him.
Just that fast, the driver was gone. He went from driving to oblivion in the time it took for a supersonic missile to travel from one side of his head to the other. James had heard many people say that they would be happy if the way they died was in their sleep, unaware and with no pain. James would never say that.
The car continued to roll, slowly continuing the last order it had been given. Its inhabitants were bellowing, panicking. The third man in the front was trying to reach the steering wheel, reaching across through the gouts of blood which poured from the man next to him, who held his neck in a futile attempt to stop the blood which spurted out with each pump of his heart. James panned to the rear of the car. Both doors were open. On the side farther from him, a man had bailed out and become caught under the car. There were still four in the backseat, some shouting at others to jump out, some shouting to wait.
The second shot shattered a sternum, erupted out a back, shattered bones in an arm and ribcage as it rattled around.
The man who’d been run over came up firing a sub-machinegun, spraying wildly. James was amazed that he’d recovered so quickly. The car jerked as one of the men in the front pulled the parking brake. Other shots rang out as those still alive leaped from the car. In James’ scope, the flashes from their weapons flared like miniature supernovas. His flash suppressor had kept him concealed so far.
Bullets flew. James let the madmen panic. He lay in the grass, watching as the gunmen shouted to each other. Five were still moving for a minute. One collapsed, convulsing. Dying from his wounds. The others seemed to think he’d been shot silently, firing in a direction they believed James had shot from. They gathered around their car, pulling the remains of the dead onto the road as they prepared to flee.
James fired again. The corpse which had been a man fell, completely limp as a chunk of his skull sailed through the air, looking like a piece of broken cup. One of the others sprinted toward James, not by intent but thinking he was running away from the unseen attacker. The bullet entered his face at the bridge of his nose.
The flash suppressor had done all it could. The shot was easily spotted by the men still alive, and they started spraying shots in James’ direction. Staying flat on the ground, James rolled to the side with his rifle hugged to him. The heat from the barrel bit his hands, but there was nothing to be done for it. The attackers kept firing, no control. No patience. No skill. They were used to killing the defenseless. Killing people surprised in their homes. James rolled to his feet near a tree, slinging his rifle across his body and drawing a combat knife strapped under his shirt.
As the shots stopped, the two men trembled. They peered blindly out into the night, thinking every little thing that moved was death. One of them started creeping forward, and the other called out to him to stop. He moaned in fear, pleading to return to the car. James smirked, wondering if they would give him a third chance to shoot them in the back.
One man continued creeping forward, the other pleading to run. James stayed completely still, his body indistinguishable from the tree by his side. He wondered what he’d do if the man by the car totally panicked and drove off without the other man. He supposed he’d have to just stay where he was and deal with that if it came.
As the man came to the point where James had been shooting from, he saw the ground torn in the direction his attacker had rolled. He looked along it, his eyes falling right on James.
He didn’t see him. The man had an Uzi sub-machinegun in his hands, while James had a rifle slung against his back. If he’d realized what he was looking at, the man would have killed James. It would have been easy, unavoidable.
“He’s running!” Called out the gunman. “We got him! He’s running!”
The more cautious of the two ran over, staring first at the ground, looking for the shell casings James had out of habit put in his pocket after each discharge, then joining his partner staring at James without seeing him.
The pair moved forward, scanning for signs of movement. They passed within double-arm length of James, still unable to see him. The first man passed by, then the second, looking right at James as he went by.
Slow and graceful, James wrapped his arms and legs around the second man as he pushed the knife into his neck and tore forward, severing the windpipe. Hot blood gushed out, feeling hotter than a human body should have been. James’ grip on the man’s wrist prevented the sub-machinegun from firing, and James took the gun as he eased the body to the ground. James trailed after the last man standing. The man looked back and saw him, but didn’t take any notice. He thought James was his partner.
James got right up on him, raised the machinegun, and put a single bullet in his victim’s skull.

“Return to the road,” James was pulling a windbreaker over his bloody shirt. “Stay off for as far as we can, and go reverse of the way we came.”
He continued to instruct Tabitha. She backtracked, staying off-road for what felt like twenty miles before returning to paved road. They continued back the way they’d come, before reaching a point to turn off.
For twenty-four hours, the car only stopped for fuel and food. The three slept in shifts, each one driving for eight hours at a time, before stopping at a roadside motel.

James was caked in congealed blood. His old clothes were carefully destroyed, and it took a great deal of washing to remove the gore from his body.
Everyone was exhausted, and they crawled into bed semiconscious.
“They’re still after us,” Mayumi said aloud, and neither of her partners could tell if she was lucid or delirious. “I’m going to move on soon.”

Tabitha felt like she’d just closed her eyes when sunlight hit her face. The motel clock blinked 10:13. She’d been asleep for nine hours. Mayumi was getting dressed after her morning shower. James was sitting up, eyes still red but looking like he’d been awake for some time.
“I’m going to clean up,” Tabitha slurred her speech slightly, pushing herself out of bed and hurrying into the bathroom. She wanted to be out of the motel without having to pay for an extra day.

Distance was the only certain desire of the trio as they resumed driving. They had no idea where pursuers would come from, or where they might be safe. At the end of eighteen hours, they crossed into southern California.
“It will be here,” Mayumi said. “I’ll move on from here.”
“Did you say that before?” Tabitha asked. She thought Mayumi might have said something like that, but couldn’t remember.
“I didn’t know before now,” Mayumi replied. “The Dark Man told me about it, but I couldn’t tell until now.”
Tabitha didn’t ask any more. Mayumi was delusional.

The motel in California was about the same as the one in Texas. The past three days were barely separate events in Tabitha’s head, and she was sure that the same was true of James and Mayumi.
Anyone still able to follow them was a long way off. They had some breathing room.
“We’ll go for breakfast,” Mayumi announced in the morning. She said it in the same way a four-year old might, without discussion or analysis. “We’ll get pancakes.”
They went to Denny’s. It was obvious that none of them had lived anywhere stable for days. Tabitha had nearly a week’s worth of blonde roots showing before her black hair dye showed. She had no makeup. Mayumi was similar, with black roots against electric blue dye. James, usually clean cut and shaven, had a thin beard.
The restaurant was bright and looked friendly. It was at odds with reality.
“I remember eating here when I first came to the States,” James said, looking at the menu.
“We have them in Japan,” Mayumi told him. “I used to eat here a lot.”
“I never really did,” Tabitha said. “I liked the house of pancakes.”
“Never eaten there,” James said. “Perhaps we’ll have to try that next.”
“Sure,” Tabitha said.
“I won’t be there,” Mayumi said. “I would have liked to.”
Both Mayumi’s companions looked at her while she studied the menu, appearing unaware of the cryptic nature of her speech.
“Why wouldn’t you?” James asked.
“Do you guys need another minute?” asked a young waitress.
“Oh, I think we need a moment,” James said, smiling.
“Okay,” the waitress smiled back. “Your accent is so cool!”
“I know,” James grinned. “Yours is quite cool, too.”
“I don’t have one,” the waitress said, looking confused.
“You have an American accent, he means,” Mayumi told her.
“Oh,” the waitress giggled. “Okay, I’ll give you guys a minute.”
It didn’t take long for her to come back. Everyone ordered, and Mayumi started speaking again.
“The music I hear,” Mayumi began, “is too loud to ignore.
“It’s the music of people starving to death while we eat,” she said. “It’s music that comes from a nail driven through a toddler’s head to make her twitch while she’s raped. A symphony of people dying because no one cares.” She looked at Tabitha. “I can hear your voice, your mouth trying to scream when you had Allen’s cooked meat in it.”
Tabitha choked, turning away. Mayumi looked confused by the reaction. James reached over and put a comforting hand on Tabitha’s back, and she turned, pale and trembling, back to Mayumi.
“It’s the music the Dark Man plays,” Mayumi looked concerned about Tabitha, but continued. “He speaks to me in my dreams now, and tells me that I can move on.”
“Where?” Tabitha croaked, her throat feeling dry.
Mayumi lifted her hands and fluttered her fingers. “Away.”
There was silence at the table.
“Do you mean,” James leaned forward, “you’re going to die?”
“No,” Mayumi shook her head. “I just will leave this world. And I want both of you to come with me.”
James and Tabitha looked at one another.
“Because I love you both,” Mayumi continued. “I’m going to move on to the spaces where the Dark Man moves, and I have it in my power to move you as well.”
“Will you ever come back?” Tabitha asked, also answering the invitation.
Mayumi looked at James, who shook his head.
“I’ll come back,” Mayumi said. “Eventually.”
The silence returned. The waitress came and served, and no one spoke.
“There’s nothing waiting after death,” Mayumi looked between her friends, looking hopeful. “There won’t be a god to tell you that you did right. If you don’t move on...”
She looked at each of them, hoping they would change their minds.
“I never thought there was,” James smiled sadly.
Tabitha nodded. “It’s what I always believed.”
“I wish I could convince you,” Mayumi was frowning as she picked up her fork and prodded her pancakes. She looked at them. “Tell me if you change your minds.”

On the drive north, no one spoke much. Mayumi waited for someone to tell her that they’d figured out that there was nothing to be gained by staying on earth. She knew they understood; they didn’t believe in God, they had no hope of an afterlife. She didn’t know why they’d refuse. It ate at her, knowing she could help but being denied the chance.
She’d been driving for four and a half hours. It was getting late. The sun was low.
“I can’t understand you both,” Mayumi pulled over to the side of the road and put the car in park.
“Why stop here?” Tabitha was on edge, worried that Mayumi might be having an episode.
“I wish you could hear the music,” Mayumi said. “You both sing it, but you don’t know it’s there. When I return, I’ll be one of the musicians of the Dark Man.” She sighed. “Both of you can be, if you want.”
“Do you mean,” James said slowly, “being one of the tormentors rather than the tormented?”
Mayumi’s eyes locked with his. “Yes.”
There was silence. Two white vans streaked by on the road, the drivers staring about, looking for the car which they should have seen easily.
“Why didn’t they see us?” James stared after the speeding vehicles.
“Not like them, though,” Mayumi said. “Above them, more than them.”
“No,” Tabitha looked horrified. “Are you kidding? Why the hell have we been fighting against them all these years?”
“We wanted to protect people,” Mayumi said. “But there’s no point! It’s not just Cthulhu that makes people torture one another! People just do it! People kill just to kill! They DESERVE Cthulhu!
“The Dark Man is greater, though.” Mayumi’s voice dropped low. “Greater than Great Cthulhu. Man’s reflection, nine-hundred ninety-nine times. We can...”
“We can’t,” Tabitha cut her off, staring into Mayumi’s eyes.
Hopefully, Mayumi looked at James’ sad face. He shook his head.
Tears pricked Mayumi’s eyes as she undid her seat belt. “I love you both,” she said.
“Where are you going?” James caught her arm. Mayumi pushed him away easily, with strength that came from more than just her slender arms.
“I’ll clear the road ahead,” Mayumi answered. “Before I go. You should turn back south.”
She left the driver’s door open. Tabitha bolted from the backseat, meaning to grab her partner.
She found herself looking down an empty road.

The two vans had been meant to force Tabitha’s car toward the other men, waiting down a closed road. They believed they were successful, following the trio closely. By the time they reached their target site, they had lost sight of the car.
Gunmen hidden on the roadside shouted at the vans, the drivers shouting back. Each angrily accused the other of losing the car.
Quietly, Mayumi stood in the midst of the murderers. She whispered in their ears, escalating their passions.

“Gunshots,” James said. The sun had now completely disappeared. He and Tabitha were standing not far from the car, still looking for their vanished friend.
“She’s not there,” Tabitha said.
James looked at her. The shots continued, faint pops in the distance.
“She said she was going to clear the road,” Tabitha said. “She can’t be there.”
James and Tabitha, simultaneously, got back in the car. The gunshots were completely inaudible with the doors closed. Tabitha was in the passenger seat, James in the driver’s. He had his hands on the wheel, not moving.
“Mayumi told us to head south,” James said. “That’s away from gunfire.”
Tabitha looked at James. He looked back at her.
The car drove north.

The road was clear, but smeared with thick blood, black and shiny in the darkness. The car’s headlights faintly illuminated stacks of bodies, next to the overturned vans. Some of these men had died by gunfire. Some were chopped to pieces, as if by a horror movie ax murderer. Some were bloated and broken, pushed by some unseen force inside them.

The car turned south. Mayumi was gone.
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The Call