The Cthulhu Mythos Megapack (40 Modern and Classic Lovecraftian Tales) (56 page)

The heavy Howitzers required both of its crewmen to wheel it out to the edge of the airstrip, which afforded a clear shot at the ridge crest. Hikaru ordered four more men to bring up the crates of ammunition. Though the men still working the field were curious about this new flurry of activity, they continued without breaking their pace. At the southern end of the field, the crews were laying down the metal matting, which meant we were maintaining our schedule.

Turning to Hikaru, I pointed at the ridge. “I estimate it’s 450 meters to the summit. Lay down your fire within ten to thirty meters of the crest.”

* * * *

As the crewmen cranked the stubby barrels into firing position, one of them, a private named Gondo, began peering at the summit with an apprehensive frown, as if doubting his senses. He glanced at me questioningly, obviously hoping I might confirm or deny his vision. I merely nodded thoughtfully, and his face grew pale with the realization that we were surely challenging some ominous unknown. I was certain that we must have shared the same unspoken thought: that by unleashing our weaponry upon this thing we might be inviting our own doom.

Casting aside that unseemly notion, I stepped away to let the gunners do their jobs. Hikaru made a quick calculation on a small notepad, then called out, “Number one, set your target bearing 74 degrees, trajectory 40. Number two, set target bearing 79 degrees, trajectory 38. Lock and prepare to fire.”

The first crewman waved to signal his readiness. Hikaru’s arm rose, hovered for a moment, then fell. The cannon erupted with a boom, recoiling angrily on its locked wheels. I heard the scream of the shell as it arced over the ridge, where it exploded violently, just a few meters to the left of the lurking, phantom watcher. A moment later, the second Howitzer unleashed its shell, which threw up a pillar of black smoke and the debris of several trees. But this time, as the smoke rolled upward, I saw it curling around a previously unseen contour, defining a strange, alien figure that now could be viewed by all.

It was a vaguely mushroom-shaped mass that I judged to be at least forty meters tall, from which sprang dozens of wavering, curling streamers that seemed to flicker and dance like filaments of black flame. As the smoke cleared, the silhouette once again became an indistinct blur that dared me to pinpoint its location. But I pointed to where it had materialized and called to Hikaru, “There! Concentrate your fire on that spot!”

The Howitzers spoke again, hurling their lethal loads unerringly to their target. This time, as the explosions shattered the air, I saw something rising above the smoke and flame: a questing, unfurling arm of shadow, the tip of which widened like the mouth of a trumpet. Suddenly, above the ringing echoes of the explosions, I heard the hornet-like buzzing that had previously come down from the ridge, only this time with such volume that I could actually see the limbs of the nearest trees quivering with the vibrations. Swarms of ants seemed to rush over my skin, and my ears felt as if spikes were being driven into them. I could not suppress a pained cry, and Hikaru gasped with shock, but he immediately cried out for the guns to fire again. The cannons loosed another volley and the shells struck home, hurling huge pieces of the ridge into the air that rained noisily into the jungle like black hail. The buzzing began to soften and moved into the distance, and I knew that any further shots would be futile. I ordered gun crew to cease fire.

* * * *

We watched with a feeling of grim helplessness as the smoke began to clear and silence returned. I knew that, whatever was up there, our weapons had not touched it. Worst of all, I felt that, if this thing behaved in any fashion like the higher denizens of our world, it might return with a new, vengeful purpose when we were the most vulnerable: with the coming of night.

I knew that, somehow, I must persuade Gen. Iida to relinquish this particular airfield and reassign my unit to another location. Any other location. At the same time, I knew the chances of such a feat were nonexistent. No matter that I might argue that the British were gone, that the Myatauki airfield could not possibly be used against us, I would be accused of insubordination and cowardice——the most heinous offenses of which an officer might be found guilty. Yes, I——as well as every man in my outfit——had pledged my service and my life to my country, to my emperor; but where, I wondered, was the honor in sacrificing our lives to complete a task that would simply open the way for more of our comrades to be destroyed?

Inside the Quonset hut, I found Cpl. Okada, our radio operator, at the set, speaking into the transmitter. When he saw me, he called out, “Colonel, it is Lt. Gen. Iida for you.”

I sighed deeply. The timing could not have been more——or less——propitious, for I had no time to consider my options further.

“This is Col. Terusawa,” I said into the microphone, taking the headset from Okada. “Go ahead, General.”

The voice on the other end sounded a million miles away, reminding me of the vast distance between this haunted plateau and the disciplined, regimented world beyond. “Col. Terusawa,” Gen. Iida said, “Fighter Group IV is to arrive at 1100 hours tomorrow. You will be ready for them?”

“We are on schedule, General.”

“What of the difficulties you reported earlier?”

I hesitated. I knew I must speak now, or not at all. “We have engaged an enemy,” I finally stammered. “We’ve suffered no further losses, but at this time I believe our position is not secure. We do not have the manpower or weaponry to repel an attack, should it come.”

Several seconds of silence followed. Then: “And this enemy? Who is it?”

I swallowed hard. “It’s true nature has not been ascertained, General. There is something…deadly…in the jungle, sir.”

“I do not follow you, Colonel.” Iida’s voice had a harsh edge.

“Sir, I ask you to trust my word that an air group will not be secure at this site.”

I heard a muted voice speaking to Iida, and silence followed for several moments. Finally, he replied, “You are an excellent soldier, Colonel. Your record is exemplary, and I am sure I made the right choice in assigning you this mission. An element of tanks arrives in the morning to assist you, does it not?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And do you feel this is insufficient for you to complete your assignment?”

“I am certain I can complete my assignment, sir. But I believe that to do so is ill-advised. This is my most prudent military judgment, General.”

Iida seemed to ponder the point briefly. But then he said, “Col. Terusawa, your orders are to complete the renovation and be ready for Fighter Group IV to arrive as scheduled. Do you have any other questions or comments?”

My heart sank. His decision was final. “No, sir. I do not.”

“Very well. You will be pleased to know the campaign in Malaya is succeeding beyond all hopes. Gen. Yamashita has routed the British to Johore, and expects to occupy Singapore within ten to fifteen days.”

“That is excellent news, sir.”

“I anticipate similarly excellent news from you tomorrow.”

“I understand, sir.”

“Until I hear from you, then.” The receiver went dead.

I turned away and dismissed Okada, telling him to spread the news about our victories in Malaya, which would hearten the men somewhat. I was truly pleased for Gen. Yamashita, whom I had met before. He was considered by many to be a somewhat neurotic, but highly capable officer.

As I went to fulfill my duty, a new, numbing fear began to overcome me, nearly trivializing all that I had experienced up to now: that, officially, I myself might have just been labeled “neurotic” by none other than Gen. Iida himself.

* * * *

For the rest of the day, I pushed the men almost cruelly, and, though fatigue showed on them like a cerement, they obeyed my orders with a quiet desperation, aware of the fate that might await us in the coming night. The tractors had laid matting over the existing runway, leaving only a portion of the newly extended strip yet uncovered. I knew that we would be finished well in advance of the fighter group’s arrival. As the sun touched the treetops in the west, Cpl. Okada brought me the report that, less than a hundred miles to the north, 55 Division was streaming across the border from Thailand at Kawkareik, bound for Moulmein on Burma’s western coast. The news of our advances should have brought us reason to rejoice, but faraway victories could scarcely assuage the dread that simmered in the aging afternoon.

Once the purple and gold streaks that mourned the daylight began to dim, we went to our evening meal. We had so far been frugal with our rations, but tonight I ordered extra portions of sesame-seasoned rice and dried beef for all. The guards rotated, and fires began to spring up among the trees, creating a bastion of light against the menace that lurked somewhere beyond. But the camp was unnervingly silent, for not one man called to another, no one spoke above a whisper; even the jungle’s nightsongs seemed muted, as if its creatures shared our fear of what the Burmese darkness mirthfully hid.

At about 2030 hours, as I sat with Shindo before a reassuringly bright fire, I heard the erratic jungle rhythms falter and cease. We immediately took up our rifles, as did every other man within our sight. I almost regretted having allowed the fires, for they blinded us to anything beyond their short range of illumination, but presented us to our enemy with merciless clarity.

It seemed ages we remained frozen, thwarted by the stillness that mocked our vigilance. And then, with a terrific boom and a blinding flash, a landmine exploded some fifteen meters away, its light revealing something that stretched out of the jungle like an onyx serpent: a thin ribbon of uncoiling, solid shadow. I heard screams far to my left, from the northern end of the camp, and another landmine blew up with a dull thump-crack, followed by another, and then another. A volley of rifle fire came from my left, their muzzle flashes creating a strobing effect by which I could see an ambiguous thrashing among the trees. Another landmine exploded, and in that moment of brilliance, I saw three or more men being dragged, struggling and screaming, through the barbed wire into the void beyond the minefield. I lifted my rifle and blindly emptied its five shots, lamenting the futility of the gesture even as my finger squeezed off the rounds.

Near me, I saw Lt. Tajima unsheath his sword and run, crying defiantly, toward our useless barricade. His sword swished back and forth as if in battle with some invisible assailant, but suddenly he was cut down. As more gunshots lit the night, I saw his body being pulled across the ground and through the coil of barbed wire. He screamed shrilly as his flesh was shredded; then his voice was stifled, and he was gone.

Something small followed Tajima’s figure into the darkness: a grenade. Seconds later, it exploded with a muffled thump, as if its force had been absorbed by something solid. The now-familiar hornet’s buzzing suddenly swirled angrily out of the jungle, again assaulting my eardrums like stabbing needles. But seconds later it ceased again, and I detected no further movement amid the trees. I lifted a hand, signaling the nearest men to hold their fire.

We stood like frozen Noh-players until, finally, a single insect somewhere to my right chirped for a mate. From my left, one answered tentatively. And the jungle came to life again. I ordered Shindo to take a head count, and he rushed away to comply. When he returned two minutes later, his face was stricken with disbelief.

“Eleven men are gone,” he said. I choked back a sob. Never in my entire career could I have witnessed such useless death. “Every man will remain vigilant tonight. There must be no sleep,” I said.

Shindo said softly, “None of us will close his eyes tonight.”

I nodded and began to walk among the men. They were dutifully gathering spent clips from the ground, reloading their empty rifles, picking up the dropped weapons of their lost comrades. Though each man’s hands shook, and each face bore the ghastly pallor of fear, they performed their duty like soldiers. A small tremor of pride passed through my body, for, in spite of the horror we had just faced, my men remained steadfast and valiant.

I finally returned to the dim interior of the Quonset hut, fully aware that tonight’s ordeal might have only begun. I looked at the radio set, our one link to the proper world we had left behind. It seemed a pitiful, laughable device that had no relevance in this haunted place. Without pausing to consider what I was doing, I lifted my rifle and fired, and the radio set exploded, its components clanging loudly against the sides of the hut.

A second later, Shindo rushed through the door, his eyes wide, jaw agape. He paused to regard the damage I had done, and for a moment I thought he was actually going to strike me. But soon, the burning in his eyes cooled, and he lowered his head, shaking it uselessly back and forth.

“So, you think we are finished?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.

“Not finished. Lost.”

Shindo turned up the lantern so that its golden glow threw hideously foreshortened shadows on the walls. I sat down at the table and, as before, he brought out a bottle of plum wine. “It’s the last,” he said.

He took two small cups from his personal kit and filled them for the both of us. We drank silently, watching our movements mimicked by the unnaturally long, thin black shadow beings on the wall.

“Whom did we lose?” I asked.

“Tajima. Okada. Torohata. Adachi. Gondo.…”

“The men we most need to complete the work.”

Shindo nodded, unable to continue. Finally, he whispered, “What kind of world does such a thing come from?”

“A dead, black world,” I said. “It must have a black sun, that burns horribly in the night. And the sounds…the very air must be forever filled with its evil song.”

“Why is it here?”

“It is somehow connected to the people here. I regret destroying that village, for the ones on the ridge are surely their cousins. But more than that, I only regret that I cannot kill each and every one of them myself.”

“But sir, if we can hold out until the air group arrives, we may get reinforcements, and then we can destroy them utterly.”