The Medusa Ritual
A Pierce Mostyn Paranormal Investigation
by
CW Hawes
A star vampire. A valiant escape attempt. Mostyn’s team going mad. And a cave in.
The adventure continues! Read on!
Chapter 17
Mostyn, phone in hand and the holographic map hovering above it, strode off down the tunnel, his team following. He keyed the mic on his helmet, which was tied into the transmitter-receiver on the special OUP phone Jones had.
“Sumer Base, this is Mostyn. Over.”
“Didn’t expect to hear from you, Mostyn. What can we do for you?”
“I’m reading your map and I see the dot marking Dr Kemper’s location. We’re going to rescue her.”
“That’s not your prime objective.”
“Maybe not, Langston, but my gut tells me that where Kemper is, the book is going to be somewhere nearby.”
Mostyn heard the hesitation on the other end.
“Look, Langston, I’m not asking permission. We are going after Dr Kemper. What I need from you is some direction. Wherever Kemper is, there’s no tunnel. I need you to provide some augmentation on the map you gave me.”
“Okay, Mostyn, it’s your call. You can deal with the director. I’ll see what I can do. Keep me posted.”
“My helmet cam is on. You’ll see what I see.”
“Alright. Let me do some further checking on the tunnel system. I’ll get back to you.”
“Roger, Langston, Mostyn out.”
Mostyn continued down the tunnel, the graffiti gradually petering out the further they traveled from the elevator. The nature of the debris on the floor gradually changed from broken bottles, empty plastic bottles, used condoms, food wrappers, syringes, and rusting pieces of equipment, to broken pieces of concrete and brick, along with dangling conduits and broken pieces of pipe.
Mostyn stopped in front of a closed off tunnel.
“Where are we going, Boss?” Jones asked.
“To Chinatown. That seems to be where the action is.”
“And we can get there from here?”
“We can, Jones, we can.” He paused, looked at the rusting iron barrier, zoomed in on the map, and then said, “Alright, Jones, get to work and open this barrier.”
Jones looked at the iron bars, which looked like misplaced wrought iron railings, and where they were bolted into the concrete walls on either side of the tunnel entrance.
“This isn’t going to be easy,” Jones said.
“Then I suggest you quit dawdling and hop to it,” Mostyn replied.
Jones shook his head, shrugged out of his backpack and set it on the concrete floor. He opened the pack and began rummaging around inside. Out came what looked like a garrote, but it was in actuality a diamond encrusted wire saw. He set the saw on the floor by the barrier. The saw was followed by a cylinder. Jones unscrewed one end of the cylinder and took out a small cutting torch. He slipped on a pair of goggles. Mostyn picked up the saw and started working on the other side of the barrier. Jones ignited the torch and began cutting iron.
In about fifteen minutes the barrier was lying on the floor. Jones packed up the equipment and shrugged back into the backpack.
The team peered into the inky blackness of the tunnel. The beams from the seven electric lamps seemed feeble compared to the darkness. What they did see was damp and crumbling concrete and brick. Ten feet in was a sign hanging from the ceiling that warned them the tunnel had been deemed unsafe by the commissioner of public safety. The sign showed rust where the paint had chipped off.
“Sir,” NicAskill said. “There’s something I think you should see. I found it while you and Jones were taking down that barrier.”
“What is it, NicAskill?” Mostyn asked.
“This way.” She led Mostyn about thirty feet down the tunnel, the rest of the team following.
“There, sir.”
Lying on the floor next to the wall was a man curled up under a blanket. His face was contorted into a mask of sheer terror.
Mostyn kneeled down and touched him. “Stone.”
“Just like at the gallery,” NicAskill said.
Mostyn stood. “Thanks, NicAskill.”
“That means the Gorgon is down here, doesn’t it, sir?” NicAskill asked.
“Makes sense,” Mostyn said.
“Especially, if as you believe, Mr Mostyn, that the book is down here,” Stoppen said.
“Okay, people. One more thing we need to keep an eye out for,” Mostyn said. “Now let’s go to Chinatown.”
Mostyn walked back and entered the side tunnel, followed by his team. There was the sound of rats skittering away as the humans approached, along with the dripping of water from cracks in the curved ceiling. The air smelled stale and dank. There were no fans and no lights in this branch of the tunnel.
The floor was littered with broken chunks of concrete and many of the bricks comprising the walls had crumbled away, leaving a gritty powder on the floor.
Mostyn looked up. The beam of his helmet light revealing cracks and holes in the curved ceiling. Water dripped from some of those cracks and holes.
“Will this tunnel take us all the way to Chinatown?” NicAskill asked.
“Not directly,” Mostyn replied. “According to the map here, it looks like it will empty out into a spur of the old subway system.”
“Are you sure?” Dr Stoppen asked. “I’m not aware that the Pacific Electric Railway ran into Chinatown. And the subway certainly didn’t.”
“Well something apparently did,” Mostyn replied. “The map has a tunnel under Chinatown. See for yourself.” And Mostyn motioned for Stoppen to take a look. “In addition, the guy I talked to in the Records Office mentioned a tunnel.”
Stoppen shrugged. “What do I know? I’m just a librarian.”
“Maybe these tunnels weren’t dug by the city or the Pacific Electric Railway.” NicAskill suggested.
“The lizard people are a myth,” Stoppen shot back.
“Lizard people?” Jones said. “Lizard people in Los Angeles? Seriously?”
“There are no lizard people!” Stoppen fairly shouted the words.
“Not lizard people,” NicAskill said. “I’m talking about secret federal government tunnels.”
“You mean military tunnels,” Jones said.
“That I do,” NicAskill replied. “You know, Jonesy, you’re pretty smart for a being a blond.”
“You better hope I don’t have to save your ass, Nicky. ‘Cuz I just might think twice about it.”
“No, you won’t, Jonesy. All for one and one for all.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Okay, let’s have some order here,” Mostyn said. “It doesn’t matter who made the tunnels. What does matter is that they’ll get us close to Dr Kemper, and, if I’m right, the book. Now keep your eyes and ears sharp. We’re facing a dangerous enemy.”
“I wonder if he used the Lizard People to make those statues?” Jones said.
Mostyn shook his head. “Can it, Jones, and keep walking.”
They covered another hundred feet, when coming from the darkness ahead they heard odd shambling and high-pitched tittering sounds.
***
Dotty wanted to put her hands on her hips, but that wasn’t possible. “Look here, Mr Whatever-Your-Name-Is, why don’t you let me go. Tell the boss man I escaped.”
The man shook his head and returned to his chair.
“What do you get out of this?”
“I get nothing except knowing I served the master.”
“My people can offer you more.”
“I sincerely doubt that is possible, Dr Kemper.”
“Try me.”
“No, thank you.”
“Alright, you lose.”
Dotty turned around and walked to the wall into which the end of the chain was embedded. She tried wiggling it. Even though the wall was crumbling, the chain didn’t budge. She gave the chain a good yank, but the wall mounting didn’t give.
That isn’t coming out anytime soon, she thought. So now what?
“Escape is futile,” the man said.
“Blow it out your ass, buddy. Either help me, or shut up.”
Dotty took one of the links of the chain and started scraping the wall around the mounting.
The man got up and stepped into the light.
“If you want to see how an escape artist works, you have to get closer.”
The man said nothing.
Dotty yanked on the chain. “Ah, progress. I should be free in no time.”
“I really must insist, Dr Kemper, that you stop.”
“Nope. Not going to.”
From his pocket the man took out a vial and a syringe. From the corner of her eye, Dotty watched him take a measured amount of fluid from the vial. He then pocketed the vial and approached Dotty. He was as quiet as a cat.
Dotty continued working away and when she figured he was close enough, she spun around. Her left foot caught his right arm and the syringe catapulted out of his hand. With his left hand the man took from his pocket a kubotan. Dotty lashed out with her foot, and caught him in the crotch. The man doubled over and Dotty kicked his head, sending him sprawling.
He was moaning, but not getting up. She grabbed his foot, pulled him to her, and wrapped the chain around his neck.
The man fought for a few moments and then went limp.
“Sorry, pal, but all’s fair in love and war.”
She unwrapped the chain from his neck and searched him for a key, but found nothing.
“Isn’t that a fine how do you do?”
She caught sight of the kubotan and tried to get it, but it was just beyond her grasp.
“Think, Dotty, think.”
She looked at the man, took off his shoe, and used it to pull the kubotan closer to her.
“Now we’re in business.” She used the self-defense weapon to dig into the soft concrete. “By hook or by crook, I’m getting out of here.”
Chapter 18
Dotty Kemper gave the chain a yank, and pulled it partially free from the wall. She gave it another tug and the chain pulled free.
“Alright, Kemper, now you’re cooking,” she said to herself. “Grab that lantern and get the hell out of here.”
Before she did, however, she checked her dead guard once more for a set of keys and any weapons. He had neither, save for the kubotan, syringe, and vial. Dotty pocketed all three and took stock of where she was.
Holding the lantern high, she saw she was in an alcove, or a wide area of the tunnel. The tunnel itself ,she noticed, was old and seemed to be at least partially carved out of rock. The concrete and brick portions were in desperate need of repair.
“Don’t sneeze, Dotty,” she told herself. “You just might bring the whole thing crashing down on top of you.”
She looked right and then left. The feeble light of the lantern seemed to be swallowed up by the darkness.
“Six of one and half a dozen of the other,” she muttered, and with a shrug she turned to her left and began walking, staying close to the wall on her right.
The stone was dry and showed evidence it had once had a coating of cement that was now gone. Probably the grit I’m walking on, she mused.
About five hundred paces in, she noticed the tunnel began angling down and became noticeably damp. At spots water could be seen running down the wall in tiny rivulets.
“Maybe going left wasn’t such a good idea,” she muttered.
Another five hundred pages and she found her way blocked. The tunnel had collapsed and water lay stagnant at the base of the rubble.
“Okay, Dotty, going left got you nowhere,” she said to the tunnel walls. “Let’s backtrack and go the other direction.”
She retraced her steps, passed the alcove where she’d been held prisoner, and continued on down the tunnel. After walking several hundred paces past the alcove, she came across a tunnel entrance closed off with iron bars. She paused a moment, held the lantern up, but the feeble light revealed little.
“Sure wish I cold get out of these manacles,” she said to the empty space. “They’re really cramping my style.”
She grabbed hold of one of the bars, and tried yanking on it, but it didn’t budge, and she continued walking down the tunnel.
After a time, and about a thousand paces, she came to a Y. The tunnel she was following continued on, bearing slightly to the right. Another tunnel came in from the left.
She stopped and considered her options. Neither tunnel was illuminated, and the lantern revealed little. Both tunnels were level and thereby gave no indication as to which one would take her to the surface. That is, if either one did, in fact, go to the surface.
“I could be wandering around down here until I die of thirst,” she muttered.
With a shrug, Dotty Kemper pushed on ahead. The tunnel, after a hundred or so feet, curved to the right. Dotty followed it, wondering where she actually was in Los Angeles.
Up ahead she saw beams of light illuminating the wall, bouncing slightly up and down, and heard a soft whine, as from an electric motor.
The tunnel must curve to the left up there, she thought.
And in a moment, six pairs of lights rounded the curve and stopped. Dotty was bathed in light and there was nowhere for her to hide.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the ever resourceful Dr Kemper.” The voice was softly sibilant, and seemed to echo off the walls. It also sounded very old. Yet very much fraught with menace.
“I guess you found me, Mr Masked Man,” Dotty replied.
“And that is a good thing,” the masked man said, “because you and I have some work we need to do.”
***
The shambling and tittering sounds were slowly and steadily growing louder. Mostyn softly called Jones’s and NicAskill’s names, and told the rest of his team to stay back. From out of his backpack, Jones took a couple of grenades. Out of NicAskill’s backpack came the parts from which she assembled a small thermobaric grenade launcher.
“Everybody get down,” Mostyn said. He, Jones, and NicAskill got into prone shooting positions.
“This floor is disgusting,” Dr Winifred Petrie said just before she was whisked off her feet. Her screams filled the air as she flew towards the darkness that lay before the team.
“What the hell?” Jones said.
While the Petrie’s cries became weaker and her struggles gradually ceased, a blood red amorphous obscenity gradually came into view.
“Oh my God!” Dr Stoppen cried out. “It’s a star vampire!”
Jones opened fire with his forty-five, the bullets having no visible effect on the tittering monstrosity that was before them.
The tentacled amoeboid blasphemy of Newton’s Laws dropped the shriveled husk that was once Dr Petrie. The entirety of the enormous thing was now visible, glowing a brilliant blood red.
NicAskill took aim and fired a thermobaric grenade at the creature. The missile passed through the oncoming amorphous blob and exploded behind the thing. The heat and pressure wave scorched and flattened the unholy tittering malevolence from another dimension. It’s blood red color turning black.
Reloading and taking aim, NicAskill fired a second grenade. The projectile flew mere inches above the tunnel floor and again passed through the creature, exploding when it hit the tunnel wall. Intense heat, pressure, and flames turned the amoeboid thing to ash, the monster’s insane titters turning to ear piercing shrieks as it burned to death.
When there was only the crackling of the flames as they consumed the last of the alien flesh, Mostyn and his team members got to their feet.
“What the hell was that thing?” Jones asked.
“A star vampire,” Dr Stoppen said. “That means he must have De Vermis Mysteriis. We are undone!” The last sentence was a shriek.
Mostyn turned to look at Stoppen. “Otto, get a grip.”
Stoppen began to visibly shake. “We are doomed!” the librarian screamed.
Mostyn went up to him, took hold of his shoulders, and shook him. Hard. “Get a hold of yourself, man. We have a mission.”
“But, but…”
Mostyn shook the man again. “All the more reason to get this guy. Right?”
There was no response from Stoppen.
Mostyn shook him again. The man was like a rag doll. “Am I right, Dr Stoppen? We have to stop him!”
Stoppen seemed to come back to life. “Yes, yes. We must stop him. He is too dangerous.”
“Good.” Mostyn turned to everyone else. “Alright, let’s go.”
The tunnel began to shake and pieces of concrete fell to the floor, bounced, and came to a stop.
“This doesn’t look good, Mostyn,” Baker called out. “The blasts must have destabilized the tunnel.”
“Everybody, double time,” Mostyn yelled.
“We’re going in there?” Hammerschmidt said.
“Get going,” Mostyn yelled. “Before a concrete cairn marks your resting place.”
The six remaining team members charged ahead, running full tilt into the trembling tunnel. Chunks of concrete pelted them as they ran. A large chunk narrowly missed Mostyn and a smaller one hit Jones’s backpack, making him stumble. NicAskill grabbed him to keep him from falling.
Hammerschmidt wasn’t so lucky. The chemist was knocked to the floor when a large piece of the ceiling fell on him. Baker hauled him to his feet and called for help. Jones dropped back and picked the doctor up in a fireman’s carry.
The tunnel was shaking violently, making it difficult for Mostyn and his team to remain on their feet.
“We’re not going to make it, Boss,” NicAskill yelled, just before a tremor knocked her off her feet.
Mostyn grabbed her under her arms and dragged her to the side of the tunnel.
“Everyone!” Mostyn yelled and motioned for them to take a protective position along the tunnel wall.
The team hunkered down, facing the wall, all curled into a fetal position, their backs and backpacks positioned outward. There was a roar as tons of concrete and bricks came cascading down from the ceiling and walls.
***
Dotty Kemper opened her eyes. Above her was an arched ceiling.
Must still be in this goddamn tunnel, she thought.
Slowly she sat up and looked around. This portion of the tunnel was in a remarkably good state of repair. The lights, while not bright, provided adequate illumination.
“Well, I’ll be damed,” she said out loud. “A bed. I’m sitting on a bed.”
And as she looked around, she realized she was in a room. There were walls and a door and a few pieces of furniture.
“Huh. They must’ve converted a section of the tunnel into apartments,” Dotty muttered.
She got off the bed and walked to the door. After examining it to check for wiring that might trigger an alarm, she tried the doorknob. Locked. A look of disgust flitted crossed her face.
Dotty walked around the room. What are they going to do with me? she thought. If they were just going to kill me they would have done so by now.
She opened the wardrobe, and counted eight dresses. In the drawers, were underclothes.
At least I’ll look pretty, she thought.
Dotty returned to the bed and sat on it. “I’m awake, Mr Masked Man,” she called out. “How about you tell me what the program is?”
There was a knock, and the sound of the lock clicking. The door opened outward and a woman walked in. She pulled it closed behind her. Kemper noticed the lock did not click, which meant for the time being she wasn’t locked in.
Dotty took in the woman. She was Chinese and looked like she was maybe in her late twenties or early thirties. She was wearing a red cheongsam, with a white floral print. The dress had long side slits, and a high collar. The sleeves came to the midpoint of her forearms. Her hair was black and cut short. She wore red lipstick and her long fingernails were painted red.
“My name’s Dotty. What’s yours?”
“My name does not matter.” The English was perfect. The accent American Midwest. “But you may call me ‘Zi’. I am to prepare you.”
“Prepare me for what?”
“The master will enlighten you soon. Please do not resist, or attempt to hurt me. Precautions have been taken.”
“Precautions?” Dotty said, and launched herself at the young woman, who’s black eyes turned red, and Dotty found herself sprawled on the floor. She felt as though she’d run full tilt into a brick wall. She slowly picked herself up off the floor.
“Yes. Precautions,” Dotty said.
“I told you precautions had been taken.”
Dotty shook her head. “So you did.”
“Now, shall we begin? The master is waiting, and he does not like to be kept waiting.”
To Be Continued!
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