The Green Lama: Unbound (The Green Lama Legacy Book 3) (37 page)

Nyarlathotep removed the Shard and handed it back to Heydrich. Throwing his arms out he turned to the Nazis. “Now, my friends, come and see the power that is Cthulhu.”

• • •

“Plan,” Ken whispered as they watched Nyarlathotep drag the Green Lama into the city, closely followed by Heydrich and a large contingent of Nazis. “Please tell me someone has a plan.”

“Jean,” Caraway said, chewing the inside of his cheek. “You’re our local prophet, what do we do now?”

“What’ve we got to work with?” she asked, gesturing at the small stash of weaponry they had freed from the plane.

“Six pistols, some additional ammo, two grenades,” Caraway enumerated. “Not enough to stop Armageddon, but enough to keep us fighting.”

Nodding, Jean quickly devised a plan. “Okay. We’ll do this in teams of two and split everything up evenly, three guns per pair, one grenade each. John, you and Rick take the raft and the Second Tablet around to get inside the U-boat, see if you can find Vasili,” she said as she checked her pistols. “He’s the last piece of the puzzle. We get him, we’ve got a shot at stopping this thing.”

“What about you and Clayton?” Rick asked.

“Ken and I are taking the Third Tablet and going after Jethro,” she replied.

“Flip that around,” Rick said. “It’ll be safer for you out here.”

“’Fraid I can’t handle it ’cause I’m a woman? That what you’re trying to get at, Masters? Don’t forget you’re still new to this dance and you still don’t know the steps. Follow my lead and you might make it out of this alive.” Jean said quietly and evenly. “And the next time you even insinuate I can’t handle something ’cause I’m a woman, you’ll be two balls short. We clear?”

Rick blinked and quickly nodded in understanding.

“Good,” Jean said before briskly turning away.

“Wow,” Rick whispered. “Bit of a pistol, isn’t she?”

Ken smiled. “That’s why we love her.”

“And where do we find you?” Caraway asked after Jean.

“Follow the sound of gunfire,” she said without looking back. “We’ll probably be at the center of it.”

• • •

Jethro awoke in darkness. It wasn’t just the absence of light—he couldn’t open his eyes. Nor could he hear, smell, taste or even speak, as though his mind was cut off from most of his body. He could still feel, however, the one sense that refused to be dampened. Pain radiated out from his bones, his muscles rang in agony. This sensation, more than anything, assured him that he was, at least for the moment, still alive, which meant there was still time however brief. He was being dragged, that much he could determine, his body scraped against the jagged yet slimy ground, the harsh surface ripping into his skin.

The last thing he remembered was seeing the plane’s propellers explode. Had the others survived? And if they had, what then? While he didn’t doubt Rick’s capabilities, what would they do once they landed? Discounting R’lyeh, they were near the Pacific pole of inaccessibility, over a thousand miles from the nearest landmass. They couldn’t escape, which meant they had only one option.

They were going to try and save him.

Though it filled him with dread, he was admittedly unsurprised. He had allied himself with Caraway, Ken, Rick and especially Jean because of their heart and strength of will. All of them had chosen to risk their lives, despite all logic time and time again, simply to do what was
right
. He still recalled, with some amusement, watching Jean run into a room full of mobsters without hesitation, guns blazing. She would no doubt be leading the charge into R’lyeh.

In fact, she always would, Jethro realized. No matter what would happen, Jean Farrell would always be there, not just for him, but also for anyone who might need her. She was brash and bullheaded, but she always aimed true. It was in part why he loved her, her inherent selflessness, a trait many Buddhists spent decades working to achieve.

And yet… What would that mean should they survive this? What sort of life would they have together? What sort of sacrifices would they be forced to make?

Before his mind could go any further, he felt something suddenly dig into the skin of his right hand, trying to pry the Jade Tablet loose. As flesh was ripped from bone, even his thoughts were screams.

• • •

“Where do you think they’re taking him?” Ken asked Jean as they moved through the city’s dark, narrow, and ever curving streets. The streets and the towers around them were silent, seemingly devoid of any recognizable form of life, but Jean and Ken were no less wary.

“To the temple,” Jean whispered. “Where Cthulhu sleeps.”

“And where will that be?”

“If you were an ancient alien god and the leader of a million year old cult where would
you
want your house to be?”

“The center.”

“Exactly. That way everything’s leading to you,” she said peeking around a corner. “Quick, head into that alleyway.” She indicated the shadowed passage to their right, the walls of the surrounding buildings curling over like frozen waves.

“What is this place made of?” Ken asked once they were undercover. He peered closely at the strange material that made up the textured walls around them. He tentatively ran his fingers over the undulating surface, brining them back coated in slime. “It’s like some kind of color out of space. It doesn’t even look like this stuff was even
built
. More like it was
grown
. And crazy as it sounds, I think this city is bigger on the inside than it was from the outside. It took us, what, five minutes to circle it in the raft? We’ve been running through this maze for almost thirty minutes now. How can that be— ”

Jean pressed her hand over his mouth. “Ken,” she whispered. “As much I love your musings, I really need you to stop talking.”

Ken nodded in understanding. Pointing their pistols at the entrance to the alleyway, they waited in silence as something large slithered closer. Sweat trickled down Ken’s forehead while Jean carefully cocked her pistols.

A long, faintly luminescent protoplasmic tentacle rounded the corner, the end of which bubbled out and split open to reveal a hateful green and yellow eye.

“Aw hell,” Ken groaned. “More monsters.”

“Go go go!” Jean shouted, pulling Ken away from the entrance as a fifteen foot amorphous creature flowed into the alleyway, multiple eyes forming and un-forming as it rushed toward them. Two mandibles extended out from the gelatinous mass, striking at their heels, shattering the ground.

“I’m going back into acting,” Ken screamed as they ran. “No more of this adventure shit ever again, I swear to God!”

“Ken,” Jean shouted, vainly firing behind her. “
Shut up
!”

• • •

“
Wo ist der Bank, bitte?
” someone called from the entryway.

The soldier walked up to the ladder and looked up through the portal. “
Was hast Du gerade gesagt?
”Aloud
pop!
echoed down as a bloody hole appeared in the soldier’s forehead. He dropped to the ground, dead.

“What did you ask him?” Rick asked Caraway as they slid down the ladder.

“I wanted to know where I could find the bank. I think,” Caraway replied as he stole a Lüger off the dead trooper. “One of my officers taught me a little German while I was working with Gan, but he didn’t know that much.”

“I know some French, but I doubt that’ll be any help right now.”

Caraway shrugged. “Eh, try it out. Might throw them into a tizzy.”

“Heh,” Rick chuckled. “Why the hell not?
Je pars chez les Boches me taper leurs putes!
” he shouted.

Instantly, two German soldiers appeared in the narrow hallway, both of whom Rick and Caraway quickly dispatched.

“That was easy,” Caraway laughed. “What did you say?”

“It’s not exactly a sentence if I clean it up,” Rick smiled wickedly.

Caraway raised a quizzical eyebrow; then, when Rick translated, “Jeez, if I was them I would have wanted to kill you, too.”

“Huh, yeah,” Rick chuckled. “I get that a lot. Come on, let’s find your boy.”

• • •

“I don’t care what you smell, just get in there!” Jean shouted as she kicked Ken into a large shaft.

Glancing back over her shoulder she saw the gelatinous creature slither around the corner, its glowing green eyes staring at her. A mouth formed, a gaping hole filled with garish, razor sharp teeth, chomping down. As it lunged toward her, it howled, “Shhhhoggggooooth!”

Without hesitating, Jean fired, one of its eyes exploding in a mess of greenish-black goo. She jumped down the shaft backwards, her pistol trained on the opening as she slid into darkness. Seconds later, the creature burst into the narrow tube after her. Shooting the beast had proven futile, and with her bullets running low, her options were limited. Eyeing a small crack running down the ceiling of the pipe’s coral-like structure, Jean fired a single shot at the fracture. The break quickly spread, crumbling up before ultimately crashing down onto the amorphous monster.

“Woo!” she exclaimed with a cocked grin as the creature exploded beneath shattered rock. Her expression quickly changed as the ceiling continued to crumble, huge chunks of coral tumbling down after her. “Aw, shit.”

• • •

“Come on, wake up,” Caraway said, lightly slapping Vasili on the cheeks while Rick undid his bindings.

“John?” Vasili groaned. “John, is that you?”

Caraway smiled sadly, remembering how much this man had recently lost. “Yup, it’s me, in the flesh.”

“My head…” Vasili squeezed his eyes shut, visibly in pain. “…Where am I?”

Caraway glanced up at the low ceiling. “A German U-Boat. Submarine, as we Yanks like to call ’em.”

“All right, he’s good,” Rick said as he removed the last of the bindings before moving to guard the exit.

“Here, let me help you up,” Caraway said, bracing Vasili as he stumbled off his cot.

His knees buckling, Vasili asked, “How did I get here?”

Caraway’s face was unreadable. “Long story.”

“I hear a voice…” Vasili mumbled. “It’s telling me to wait, that my time is almost at hand. It sounds like Alexei’s.”

“Just bad dreams,” Caraway reassured him.

Vasili looked toward Caraway like a scared child. “What about Sotiria? Where is she?”

Caraway’s gaze fell to the floor. “I’ll explain later,” he said. He handed Rick the satchel containing the stone Jade Tablet, then put an arm under Vasili to help him carry his weight as they took a tentative step forward. “First things first, Armageddon.”

“Armageddon?”

“Yeah, real bad news, like a rash that won’t go away,” Caraway said briskly as they moved past Rick toward the exit.

Vasili furrowed his brow at Rick. “Who are you?”

“Rick Masters. Pilot, hero, supporting character,” Rick replied. Then, to Caraway, “This boy always asks so many questions?”

“He’s usually the strong silent type, but he’s been through a lot recently.”

“I can only imagine,” Rick grumbled to himself.

• • •

Ken splashed face first into the murky black pool, rolling end over end, losing all sense of direction. His lungs burning, he swam furiously until his head broke through the surface. Gasping, he wiped the opaque liquid from his eyes only to find himself in darkness. Seconds later, he heard Jean tumble down the pipeline, screaming several choice expletives before hitting the water. Turning toward the sound, he hollered, “Jean! Jean? Where are you?”

“Ken!” she coughed. “Ken, get clear!”

“What?”

“Get clear!” she shouted as the avalanche fell upon them.

“Jesus H. Christ, this place is a goddamn maze,” Rick grumbled as he and Caraway carried the semiconscious Vasili through the curving streets. They had been moving through the city for the better part of a half hour and were no closer to finding Jean and Ken. “How the hell are we supposed to know where to go?”

Caraway shook his head. “Jean said to listen for gunfire. Not that we could hear it if we tried.”

“Go to the center, to the temple,” Vasili mumbled. “Follow the path, left, right, right, left, straight, right, right, left…”

Rick grimaced in befuddlement as Vasili rambled on. “What the hell is he sayin’?”

Caraway listened intently, trying to remember the order of the words the best he could. “He’s tellin’ us where to go.”

• • •

A boot hit him in the face, cracking a tooth.

“Wake up, Dumont,” Heydrich shouted. He kicked again, breaking Jethro’s nose. “Wake up, you damn
Amerikanisch
!”

“Calm down, Heydrich,” Nyarlathotep said. “He’s coming around.”

Jethro’s swollen eyes peeled open. He was in a small domed room, curled in a fetal position in a narrow pillar of sunlight. The cylindrical walls were covered in algae and barnacles. Heydrich and Nyarlathotep stood above him. The former was dressed in a black ceremonial robe, a dark shadow of Jethro’s own. The latter was adorned with vestments similar to those seen in the ancient hieroglyphics of Egypt, the
Necronomicon
in his hands. Both men—if they could be called that anymore—appeared to be in an advance state of decay.