Reincarnated Cthulhu - Chapter 10

§10. Great river Thames

Quack quack quack!

The Thames River appeared to seethe with fury. Despite the torrential downpour, the levees that had never breached before were now rendered futile, as floodwaters cascaded onto the streets. Workers clad in raincoats persisted in their tasks, huddling at the harbor’s edge.

“Is there no vessel arriving?”

“Are you mad to expect one in this tempest?”

I muttered curses under my breath and turned away. It was a futile endeavor. I had entertained the notion of renting a boat, but in such weather, even the sturdiest of ships refused to stir.

With neither carriages nor automobiles in operation, the streets were quieter than ever. A single panicked horse spooked by thunder could provoke calamity. Perhaps as a result, the customary traces of horse dung and gasoline stains were absent from London’s streets.

The scent of the sea pervaded the air.

The distinct stench of London that invariably wrinkled my nose was swept away by the rain, replaced by the salty aroma typical of the sea more than 30 kilometers to the east. The scent blurred the boundary between the city and the ocean.

A vision manifested before me. Big Ben and Buckingham Palace, submerged in tidal waters.

It was a scene from both the distant past and an impending future. A hundred million years ago, the continents were not yet fully segregated, and the earth’s surface underwent cycles of sedimentation and melting. At that time, London lay deep beneath the waves, its original denizens being the fish people. The grotesque relics they crafted still linger throughout Britain, foretelling the downfall of a humanity yet unborn.

When the earth settled and humans emerged, the fish people receded to the sea. However, they remained patient. In due time, the land would sink once more, and humanity would be forced to supplicate the fish people for survival, offering themselves as livestock.

As a denizen of the 21st century, I know that prophecy to be true.

Sea levels have been steadily rising for millennia. In another century or two, London will be engulfed by water. The Queen’s residence will metamorphose into an altar for their malevolent deity, and the Houses of Parliament will become a breeding ground for human captives.

The fish people will reclaim their ancient domain and rule over humanity with wickedness!

Mars! Their sinister god is none other than Mars!

I swam through nightmarish delusions.

Who presents me with these visions, and to what end? I groaned and stumbled. My cane slipped on the slick pavement and rolled along the ground.

“Sir, are you quite well?”

A youthful constable observed my fall and hastened to lend support.

“It is perilous out here; let us return to your abode!”

I shook my head. As I rose with the constable’s assistance, my gaze met the heavens. The rain, cascading from the somber sky since daybreak, seemed intent on engulfing the world with even greater ferocity. It was the sky that humanity, until a millennium ago, believed to signify the gods’ wrath.

“I must proceed.”

“Whither are you bound? I can accompany you.”

I cried out.

“Jacob’s Island!”

The very epicenter of tragedy and the genesis of London’s impending destruction!

⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩

────Swoosh!

I reached the entrance of Jacob’s Island approximately ninety minutes later. Due to the absence of carriages, I arrived half an hour behind schedule.

“Are you certain this is the location?”

The constable inquired apprehensively. Even for a lawman, venturing into such a slum was uncommon. Only the most seasoned and hardened officers were assigned to these impoverished districts.

I nodded.

The officers who had guarded the entrance the previous day were nowhere in sight. I knew they had not deserted their post. The copious bloodstains on the ground attested to that.

“They have already passed.”

The bloodstains led directly to the Thames River. The victims had been slain here and subsequently cast into the river. There was no need to erase the evidence. Within an hour or two, the rain would cleanse all traces of blood.

“Bloodstains…!”

The young constable, taken aback, approached the gruesome scene.

“Do not be alarmed. We shall encounter worse henceforth.”

He squatted, observing the futile spectacle of bloodstains being washed away by the rain. Meanwhile, I retrieved a rifle from my bag, angling the barrel downward to prevent rainwater from seeping into the muzzle.

“What are you suggesting…! Sir, what is the meaning of this?”

“A Snyder Enfield. Aged, but serviceable. Much like myself.”

“That is not the issue!”

Even in firearm-tolerant Britain, brandishing a weapon in the city center was a different matter. The constable sprang up and advanced towards me. It was an unguarded move that would have allowed me to shoot him with ease, had I been so inclined. Inexperience, I surmised.

“Thank you for escorting me thus far. You may depart now.”

He was too young to become entangled in such a matter. If London required bloodshed, it should come from an adult.

“This is not a situation to dismiss with mere words. You must explain everything forthwith.”

I presented my Victoria Cross to the constable, who recited the sage advice unbefitting his youth. I lacked both the confidence to persuade him with words and the time to do so. This was the most direct way to clarify my identity and the current predicament.

“London is under siege, constable.”

A retired soldier bearing a military medal, an antiquated military rifle, the assaulted officers.

The constable, recognizing the medal, seemed to grasp that the situation was far from ordinary.

“Moreover, this has nothing to do with glory. Are you prepared to die for your country and Her Majesty the Queen?”

I did not hasten or chastise him. Instead, I strode past the constable, whose gaze was downcast, and ventured into the heart of Jacob’s Island.

“I-I shall accompany you. I cannot permit you to proceed alone, sir!”

I furrowed my brow at the voice emanating from behind.

“What is your name?”

“Peter. Peter Wilson.”

“Philemon Herbert.”

Though I was loath to involve the young man, the situation did not afford the luxury of refusing assistance. I was still haunted by the visions. To escape the dreadful nightmare of a submerged London, I was prepared to sacrifice anything.

The streets were markedly different from my prior visit.

The first thing I noticed was the odor. The foul miasma that had once distinctly separated the streets of London from Jacob’s Island had vanished. All that remained was the salty, piscine aroma of the sea. The delineation between London and Jacob’s Island was already disintegrating.

“Is this truly London?”

Wilson surveyed the surroundings and inquired with an apprehensive tone. His anxiety was understandable, given his ignorance of the circumstances.

Even I, who was privy to the entire tale, shuddered at the extent to which the ground had sunk compared to a mere fortnight prior. Buildings that had stood two or three stories tall had descended further, nearly engulfed by the mire, resembling primitive hovels.

And the roads? The cobblestone paths were now submerged in sludge, with each step sinking us ankle-deep. Unidentifiable primeval creatures, be they insects or fish, wriggled and crawled through the muck.

“Ugh!”

All the lampposts and streetlights had toppled and lay haphazardly strewn at the waterway’s edge, accompanied by scores of large fish carcasses washed ashore. Wilson retched at the repugnant sight. Even I, possessing a robust constitution, felt queasy.

I approached the remains and scrutinized them. More precisely, they were still human. The bodies, now bearing a closer resemblance to fish than they had two weeks prior, were already infested with the eggs of opportunistic flies.

Careful not to touch the remains, I prodded them with my cane. As anticipated, they were drained of blood and desiccated, with the gunshot wound in the chest serving as the source of the hemorrhage.

“He could not have accomplished this alone.”

I surveyed the multitude of corpses. They were arrayed in a line, as though queuing, with a uniform distance between them—a formation only achievable through synchronized gunfire.

“What are these abominations?”

“Sinners. They were cursed by an elderly man and transformed into these shapes.”

“Is that… some manner of jest?”

I shook my head.

“Are you prepared to confront hundreds of monstrous fish and armed brigands wielding firearms?”

“No…”

“Neither am I.”

As anticipated, Richmond had arrived.

He was not unaccompanied; at his side stood several armed mercenaries wielding firearms. The dreadful reality weighed upon me, yet simultaneously, a modicum of solace could be discerned.

“Wilson, I beseech you for assistance. You must locate a woman somewhere upon this island. My wretched leg hinders my pursuit. Can you undertake this task?”

I described to him Curie’s facial characteristics. Wilson nodded with apprehension and took his leave.

────Bang!

────Bang! Bang!

Discovering Richmond proved no arduous task.

One simply needed to follow the cacophony of shrieks and gunfire, piercing the torrential downpour. As expected, he resided upon Jacob’s Island.

“Exterminate them all!”

“Repugnant, monstrous fiends!”

Six mercenaries, armed with rifles and even machine guns, hurled curses as they fired upon the fleeing fish-people, while Richmond observed the unfolding carnage from a safe distance.

I stealthily approached him.

“Herbert! I had heard of your plunge into the river, yet you have prevailed!”

Recognizing me, Richmond revealed his gold teeth in a cunning grin as he greeted me.

“Pray tell, why do you stand here when you ought to be present at the court?”

“No one attended the court.”

At my response, Richmond’s eyebrows betrayed a subtle twitch.

“Neither Count Essex nor I made an appearance, much like yourself.”

“You possess an irksome aptitude.”

“Was it not such competence you sought when you came in search of me?”

Richmond shook his head.

“Nay, of course not. I surmised that, being in close association with the Earl, I could intertwine falsehoods and present a tantalizing offer such that he might somehow prevail in the case. I spent a fortnight confined to the London library, rummaging through the dust-laden tomes of law.”

He lamented as though matters had not unfolded according to his design. Remarkably, his tone carried a note of merriment, given the dire circumstances.

“One could scarce imagine my astonishment upon learning you had ventured directly to Jacob’s Island. I never would have surmised.”

“Did you arrive here to reclaim the meteorite?”

Instantaneously, Richmond’s visage shifted from a sardonic smile to one of solemnity.

“If you possess such knowledge, you ought to realize it was originally mine.”

“That object is not meant for human possession.”

“Indeed, I purloined it from a non-human entity.”

Richmond confessed with composure.

“Twenty-five years past, I endeavored to take my own life aboard a vessel bound for America. My venture had failed, and I found myself consumed by staggering debts. I saw no prospect of repayment, even if I were to toil for the remainder of my days in the United States, and so I leapt into the Atlantic’s vast expanse. Miraculously, I survived.”

It was a tale I had previously encountered. His convoluted debt situation had been a frequent topic in the press.

“I found myself upon a peculiar isle. Nay, it was a continent — a submerged landmass, engulfed by the tides. An immense expanse of mudflats, blanketed in shallow seawater, stretched interminably across the horizon, devoid of any elevation surpassing my own knees. No living beings inhabited this place; all was lifeless and decaying. The only reflections cast upon the water were my own image and the cerulean sky above.”

Richmond’s countenance was awash with rapture.

“Upon that forsaken land, I discovered it: the enigmatic, verdant meteorite that gleamed brilliantly. A malevolent, primitive race worshipped the celestial stone.”

He accentuated the term “primitive race” and averted his gaze. At the end of his line of sight, the fish people perished helplessly before the relentless onslaught of firearms.

“Fortuitously rescued by an American vessel, I returned posthaste to London, the meteorite clutched in my grasp. It bestowed upon me the power to achieve the unachievable. Serendipitously, all my creditors, who had extended loans to me, perished in a series of lamentable shipwrecks, affording me the opportunity to cultivate my enterprise.”

Indeed, the origin of the whispers surrounding him commenced here. His intricate debt situation persisted unresolved to this day.

“Once my affairs had stabilized, I purchased a quaint rural hamlet by the name of Moreton. Situated a great distance from the sea, it was a tranquil village. I erected a factory there, provided employment to the populace, and bestowed salvation upon them. Is not that tale most inspiring?”

“Nevertheless, the meteorite’s presence on Jacob’s Island remains unaccounted for.”

In response to my query, Richmond suddenly unleashed a fearsome cry.

“My meteorite was purloined! By those wretched fish-creatures that breached my sanctuary under the veil of night! Anticipating such an event, I managed to dispatch the majority of the intruders, yet a select few eluded me! I vow to eradicate that inferior race and reclaim my meteorite ere I expire!”

A palpable madness swirled within Richmond’s eyes, accentuated by the harsh light of the machine gun.

“And a fortnight past, I finally located the French coastal village that harbored them and laid it to waste. I could no longer bear the absence of the meteorite from my grasp.”

During the tempestuous night when the flight was forcibly taken aloft, I discerned that it was Richmond who had orchestrated the event. Yet he made no mention of the anachronistic technology that should not have existed in this age.

“The meteorite is mine! It belongs not to those vagabond fiends, but to me!”

────Vrooom…

The sound of a boat’s engine emerged from beyond the fog.

“Yjzuq’hacha Fhanglu Fhtagn!”

“IA! IA! Tekeli-li Dagon Fhtagn!”

The atmosphere shifted. Amidst the heated carnage, the fish-men shrieked their fanatical incantations. They hurled themselves toward the onslaught of bullets. Even as their scales shattered and heads erupted, more of the fish-men materialized.

“IA! IA! Tekeli-li Dagon Fhtagn!”

“IA! IA! IA! IA!”

In stark contrast to their frenzied conduct, they regarded the humans with the emotionless eyes of fish. Their mouths hung agape, reminiscent of fish awaiting their prey.

───Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

“Boss, we must flee!”

A mercenary, paralyzed by terror, implored.

“No! Keep firing, you fools! You cannot be halted by a mere handful of vagrant abominations?”

Richmond roared, his foot striking the earth.

“Huh?”

At last, a fish-man’s hand grasped the head of a mercenary. The unfortunate soul crumpled to the ground, his hair ensnared. Despite attempts at suppressive fire to rescue him, the fish-man who had captured the mercenary swiftly retreated to whence they came.

“Help me! Help me! Aaaaah!”

The fish-man mercilessly dismembered the captured mercenary before us, as if to exhibit his conquest. It was a torturous display. They inflicted agony upon him until he finally succumbed to his grievous wounds. When the mercenary’s life ebbed away, naught remained of his countenance.

A singular emotion permeated the unfeeling eyes of the fish-creatures: rage, a thirst for retribution. The mercenaries, overwhelmed by terror, attempted to flee, but it was already far too late. Those who fell backward, meeting their demise with fractured skulls, were the fortunate ones.

The climactic end of the frenetic battle drew near. Richmond grasped a firearm and brought it down upon the fish-man’s skull.

“Be gone! Do not sully my flesh!”

Richmond struggled as he was ensnared by the fish-man’s fin. The fish-men dragged him and the lifeless bodies of his numerous cohorts towards the river. The vagrants had transformed into beings more piscine than human. Frothy foam billowed in the water as Richmond was pulled under.

All was finished.

The world was shrouded in silence.

The nightmarish scene that had transpired moments ago concluded, leaving behind an unsettling chill.

────Vrooom…

Within the fog, I came upon an entity.

Towering over even the tallest structures of London, it loomed above the Thames, casting its gaze upon me. Its limpid eyes, even from the abyssal depths, exuded the mineral-like emotions characteristic of underwater beings as it observed London.

“Haak… Hah….”

Upon realizing its presence, I drew breath in short gasps akin to a fish stranded ashore. With each inhalation, the fetid odor of sea mold and parasitic waste suffused the air, and the guttural rumble of its voice reverberated throughout London.

Ah, indeed. The aircraft did not plummet due to inclement weather.

It was veritably something of immense power that had seized the wing with its very fingertips.

Gazing upward at that entity, I felt suffocated.

“Heuk… Heuk… Heuk….”

Jacob’s Island was descending into the depths along with the meteorite. I, too, would be submerged. To draw breath, I must return to the sea. As with all life, I must return to the sea.

“Sir! Sir! Compose yourself!”

Wilson cried out as he hoisted me up.

Those eyes! Eyes!

“Aaaaaah!”

I shrieked, attempting to rend Wilson’s eyes from their sockets!

“Into the abyss! Into the abyss! It comes! To the sea! To the sea! To the sea!”

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A week later, I sat listlessly upon the bed.

The incident’s impact on my sanity was tremendous, yet regrettably, I failed to lose my mind entirely. I spent the majority of my days grappling with terror, and I became hysterical at the slightest hint of rainfall.

Books and newspapers served as a distraction from my fears.

The meteorite trial, which had garnered significant attention, fizzled out as none of the involved parties appeared. Even Richmond, who would have raised objections, vanished, and the trial went unmentioned. Indeed, any verdict would have been inconsequential. Both Jacob’s Island and the meteorite had been swallowed by the Thames, disappearing without a trace.

The public’s attention swiftly shifted to another matter.

It was the intense legal dispute over how creditors would divide the heirless Richmond Co. Consequently, no one took notice of the case involving the overnight disappearance of every resident in a small rural village called Moreton. It received only brief coverage in local newspapers.

London’s economy suffered its worst downturn since the typhoon.

The Thames’ waters grew so tempestuous that no ships could enter. On the day of the typhoon, anchored vessels and cargo worth millions of pounds were lost, and port facilities installed across the city became useless. It was London’s darkest day.

During my convalescence, two letters arrived.

One announced the death of Count Essex. People claimed that he had aged 30-40 years overnight, succumbing to old age the following day. Upon the revelation of his peculiar dietary habits, rumors circulated that combining vinegar and red wine was detrimental to one’s health.

The other letter was from Wilson. He sent a few pleasantries along with a notebook. On the first page, this name was inscribed:

[Marie Curie]

I decided to delay reading it for some time. Had she truly gone to the river, or had she perished? I dreaded the knowledge of the truth.

As ever, the Thames River flowed just beyond the window.

The Thames was purer than it had been in the past century. The river would eventually return to its original state. As always, the river would one day become a vibrant, azure sea teeming with life.

Each time I showered, I could hear something passing beneath the sewer. Those who could not return to the sea now dwelled within London’s sewers. I had a premonition that when the river becomes the sea once more, they would rise to the surface seeking vengeance.

In that moment, what could I do as a British soldier? Night after night, my worries deepened.