“It’s a Kraken,” Salty said again. “Just like what I saw before.”
“Shut up, old man,” Sarah snapped.
Lee sank to his knees in a puddle and began to laugh.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Taz growled.
“It’s fucking Cthulhu, man,” Lee cackled. “Just like in the role playing game!”
“What are you talking about?” Juan asked.
“Cthulhu! H. P. Lovecraft’s big, ugly squid god? Lives under the sea? Has a head like an octopus? That is not dead which can eternal lie, et cetera, et fucking cetera? Any of that ring a bell with you?”
“Motherfucker done lost it,” Taz said. “Ya’ll better lock him up somewhere before he hurts somebody.”
“What is he talking about?” Mike asked. “Who the hell is Lovecraft?”
“Horror stories,” I said. “Lovecraft was a horror writer.”
I’d tried reading H. P. Lovecraft once, after watching the movie Re-Animator, which was based on one of his stories. I was disappointed to find that the book wasn’t nearly as cool as the movie.
Lee continued babbling. “My students studied Lovecraft every October, along with Poe and Bierce and Hawthorne’s supernatural stuff. Did you guys know that some people actually believe Lovecraft based his Cthulhu mythos on a real-life entity?”
Sarah raised her hand, as if she were a student in Lee’s class. “Can I ask why we’re standing out here on the fucking roof discussing early twentieth century pulp fiction while that thing is heading towards us? Shouldn’t we be doing something?”
Her question seemed to galvanize us, snapping our indecision.
“Good question,” Juan said. “Anna, get the kids downstairs. Lock yourselves in a room and stay there. No matter what you hear, don’t come out. Find something to defend yourselves with, just in case. Sarah, Lori, Lashawn, and Mindy—get the rest of the guns and bring them up here, on the double. The rest of you take positions all around this fucking roof. He’s sure as hell not getting us without a fight!”
Taz ejected his clip and slid a fresh one into place, then noticed that Lee was still kneeling in the puddle. “The fuck you doing, Lee? Get your ass up! That thing is gonna be on us any minute now.”
“It’s Cthulhu!” Lee shouted. A droplet of water dripped from his nose. “I’m telling you guys, it’s fucking Cthulhu, man! We are so screwed.”
“It’s not Cthulhu!” I grabbed Lee’s shirt and yanked him to his feet. “Cthulhu is a fictional character! Lovecraft made him up!”
“Just like the mermaid, right, Kevin? Was she made up too?”
I shook him hard.
“Lee, listen to me. You’re scared. That’s understandable, man, because I’m scared too. But you’ve got to get a grip, dude. That thing is not Cthulhu!”
“Well it sure as hell isn’t Flipper, now is it?”
Another wave crashed into the building, the crest lapping over the edge of the roof. The creature’s head emerged from the surf, and when it roared, I felt the roof shake beneath my feet.
Juan braced his legs against the edge, and raised his rifle. “Kevin, take Lee downstairs. With the state he’s in, he’s not going to be any help. Give his gun to Christian, get him to his room and then get back up here!”
“Give me your gun, Lee.” I held out my hand.
He met my eyes. His voice was barely a whisper. “It’s not going to do you any good. Not against that.”
“Maybe not. But give it to me anyway.”
He surrendered the weapon and I handed it to Christian, who checked to make sure that it was loaded. Then I helped Lee to his feet and guided him towards the stairwell. He babbled the entire time about squid gods and lost cities. We were halfway through the door when the shooting started. The screaming followed a second later. I led Lee to the bottom of the stairs, and then ran back up. The rain was falling like gravel, thick and hard, but I barely noticed.
Leviathan was upon us.
Dozens of thick tentacles whipped through the fog. Everybody opened fire, but the appendages were hard to hit, moving as fast as they did. Taz blasted a hole in one of them and it retreated, only to have three more immediately take its place. One of them slapped the pistol from Christian’s hands, and a third wrenched a radio antenna from its mooring on the roof.
I fumbled for my pistol, but it slipped from my wet hands and skittered across the roof. Scrambling to retrieve it, I ducked just as a muscular tendril slashed through the air above me.
One of the tentacles coiled around Christian’s midsection and squeezed. He fired a shot into the appendage, but the creature refused to let go. Christian wailed, his eyes bulging in their sockets as his face turned red, then purple, then black. Dark blood exploded from his nose and mouth, and ran from his ears in thick rivulets, then finally burst from his pores. Mike ran to help him, but three more tentacles seized him, too, wrapping themselves around his legs and waist. He squirmed, clubbing at the appendages with his empty rifle.
Then he began to scream.
The tentacles were lined with rows of suckers—except that they weren’t suckers. They were mouths. Tiny little circular mouths, lined with sharp, needlelike teeth.
And they began to feed…
The tentacles were eating Mike alive. He shrieked as they gnawed through his wet clothing and burrowed into his flesh. Blood welled out from between the rubbery coils. I remembered the purplish mark on Jimmy’s head, the blemish that had looked like a raw hickey, and finally I understood what had happened to my friend. I raced toward Mike, but the tendrils snaked out over the water, taking him with them. The creature waved him about like a rag doll before dropping him into the ocean.
Leviathan’s head emerged from the water, dripping seaweed and slime. Up close, those baleful eyes were as big as taxicabs. It roared again and I felt a blast of hot air rush over me. It stank of rotten fish and brine. Salty ran past me and dived into the stairwell. Juan shouted at him to help, clicked empty, and glanced around for assistance. But there was none to be found. Taz and Ducky were involved in their own struggles with the creature, and piles of brass casings littered the roof at their feet.
Then Sarah emerged from the stairwell, armed with two rifles. Seeing Juan’s plight, she ran toward him, but Leviathan was quicker.
Juan yanked a white phosphorous grenade from his belt and pulled the pin. At the same instant, another serpentine appendage seized him. The tentacle slithered around his chest, pinning his arms to his side. He was still clutching the grenade. I’ve thought about it many times, and I’m still not sure if he held on to it out of some suicidal notion, or if he was just so scared that he forgot he was holding it. The tentacle lifted him skyward, and he screamed, his legs kicking helplessly. The mouths began to feed on him, chewing at his flesh and clothing. Then there was a bright flash as the grenade exploded, showering us all with gore—Juan’s and the creature’s. The stump of the tentacle sank below the waves, spraying ichor in its wake. There was nothing left of Juan, not even enough for the seagulls.
Taz and Ducky’s resolve shattered then, and they broke for the stairs.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here, yo!” Ducky shouted.
“Word,” Taz said. “Come on, Kevin! Sarah! Let’s haul ass!”
“We’ve got to stop it,” Sarah insisted.
“We can’t,” I said. “It’s useless. Just run!”
A dozen more tentacles slapped down onto the roof, cracking the surface, and I turned and ran. Sarah fired off a few random shots, and then fled with me. We darted through the doorway and met Lashawn and Mindy halfway down the stairs.
“We’ve got more guns,” Mindy said.
“Forget about the fucking guns,” Taz hollered, brushing past them. “Bullets ain’t doing shit to that thing! Get the fuck out of my way.”