The Latter Fire

As I locked the door to Stroeker's cabana and quietly slipped into the shadows, I noticed Stroeker heading down the beach in my direction. I didn't believe he'd seen me, thankfully, but if I hadn't left when I had... Damn, now that was what I called cutting it close! I froze where I was, hidden in the shadows, and watched to see what he was up to.

Stroeker opened the lock with a key and entered the bungalow, shutting the door behind him. Due to the way the windows faced, I couldn't see what he was doing inside, but he didn't stay long. He left barely five minutes later, in fact, locking up behind him and heading back toward the hotel. His attitude seemed pretty casual and he wasn't in any hurry, so I figured my little visit had gone undetected by him.

I waited until Stroeker was out of sight, and a few minutes beyond that just to be safe, then picked a clear moment to return to the bungalow. I peered in the windows, looking to see if he had rearranged anything or opened any of the crates, but nothing seemed disturbed. What had he been doing in there? Had I tripped an alarm system that I hadn't detected? No, he would have shown up sooner, if that was the case, and been in much more of a hurry. Maybe he was just checking his inventory. Still, it sent shivers down my spine when I thought about what might have happened if I'd stayed a few minutes longer. Definitely too close for comfort.

I made it back to my place unseen and set about trying to draw a picture of the two objects I'd discovered, while they were still fresh in my memory. Not that I suspected I was going to be able to forget them, much as I wanted to. I'd had some training in sketch drawing, enough that I could do a decent likeness, although it wouldn't win any awards. It didn't have to, though, it just had to be good enough to show Laughlin the next time I ran into him. I wasn't going to tell him exactly how I'd come across those things, of course. To be honest, I would have preferred not to consult him at all, but unfortunately, I had no idea what those statues might be, or where they might be from,. So, assuming he hadn't been exaggerating his archaeological knowledge, Laughlin was my best source at the moment. Maybe they were rare statues from an ancient civilization or something. They had to be valuable. Stroeker wouldn't be wasting his time with them, otherwise. Were they from Tonga, or was he delivering them here? Or was Tonga just a way point for him, while he made final arrangements to send the crates onto their final destination? And who was he working with? Questions, too many questions, and not nearly enough answers so far.

It was 9:30 at night when I finally finished the sketches - finished being a relative term, of course. The creatures didn't look nearly so terrible on paper, which was probably for the best. Since I wasn't feeling particularly tired or eager for sleep, I decided to go for a jog along the beach, hoping it would wear me out...or at least take my mind off of the evening's events. No such luck. That jumpy feeling remained with me, and I found myself sticking to areas that were lit or still populated. When I finally returned an hour later, I made sure that all the doors and windows were locked before I went to bed, which was standard procedure for me. Pushing a piece of furniture in front of the bedroom door wasn't, but I did it anyway. I left one of bathroom lights on too, despite how ridiculous I felt for doing so. I was too old to be worried about monsters under the bed! And yet, I couldn't bring myself to turn it off. I tried to rationalize it away, figuring that I was just nervous because of my close call with Stroeker. Besides, it was important that I tried to get some sleep, given that I had a 9:00 a.m. submarine tour in the morning, and I just knew that if I shut the light off, I'd wind up lying awake in the darkness, thinking about that statue... Damn Stroeker, anyway.

As it turns out, the light wasn't enough to save me. It took me some time before I could sleep, and when I did, I dreamed of a terrifying Thing rising out of the sea, tentacled and filled with malice. I was reminded of a snatch of Tennyson that I had learned in college:

"Below the thunders of the upper deep,
Far, far beneath in the abysmal sea,
His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep
The Kraken sleepeth: faintest sunlights flee
About his shadowy sides; above him swell
Huge sponges of millennial growth and height;
And far away into the sickly light,
From many a wondrous grot and secret cell
Unnumbered and enormous polypi
Winnow with giant arms the slumbering green.
There he hath lain for ages and will lie
Battening upon huge sea worms in his sleep,
Until the latter fire shall heat the deep;
Then once by man and angels to be seen,
In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die."

Only this thing did not die, but hungered for all that it laid its terrible tentacles upon...

I woke up in a powerful sweat, the first light of dawn pouring through my window. I sat up with a start, knife in hand, and looked around frantically for few moments, then flopped back down on the bed once I realized that I was alone. It was just a dream. Which was kind of like saying that it was just a concussion. I realized that it was the thing carved on the tablet that I had dreamed about, only worse, somehow. More...real. I lay there shivering for a bit, trying to get my breathing under control...trying to get the images out of my mind. So much for getting any more sleep.

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Last modified on August 1, 2000 by Kris Fazzari.