"How you doing down there?" called Lieutenant Marino through the intercom.
There was a crackle of static, then a voice said: "It's dark. We can't get the lights to work. We may need some floods."
"Are you into the corridor yet?" asked Lieutenant Marino. "Can you see anything?"
"We're just through the door and we're ready to fan out and start looking. No sign of any trouble so far."
Lieutenant Marino gave the thumb's up to Detective Narro and his two uniformed buddies, and they entered the elevator and pressed the button for 10. Singing Rock and I didn't look at each other as the doors slid shut and the floor indicator blinked 18–17 — 16–15 — 14 and down. It stopped at 10.
"How you guys doing?" asked Marino, into his intercom.
"We're fine," came the voice of the search-and-destroy leader. "So far there's nothing to report. We're going through every room, one after the other, and we're checking everything."
"Keep alert," said Marino.
Detective Narro's voice, distorted by the intercom, said: "It's very dark indeed. The flashlights don't seem to work properly. Does anyone know what's wrong with the lights?"
Dr. Winsome said: "We've already checked. There's no fault that we can detect."
Lieutenant Marino said: "They say the lights have been checked and they can't help. Just be careful, and hold your flashlights away from your body. You don't want to make yourself an easy target."
"Christ," I whispered to Singing Rock, shaking my head. "They still think they're fighting a mad gunman."
Singing Rock was very pale. "They'll find out," he said grimly. "I just hope it isn't too bad when they do."
The voice of the search-and-destroy leader said: "I'm having some trouble here. The floor plan of these corridors doesn't seem to tally with the maps. We've been around in a circle twice, and it looks like we're just about to do it for the third time."
"Illusions," said Singing Rock softly. A newspaper reporter with carroty hair looked up and said: "What?"
"What's your position?" asked Lieutenant Marino. "What room is nearest to you?"
"Room Ten-Oh-Five, sir."
Lieutenant Marino hurriedly consulted his floor plan. Then he said: "In that case, there should be a turning to your left, and then a right and you're into the next section."
There was a brief silence, and then the voice said: "Sir — there's no turning. I mean, there's no opening. This is just a blank wall here. I can't see anything."
"That's nonsense, Petersen. There's a turning right in front of you."
"Sir, there's no turning. They must've changed the place around since these maps were drawn."
Lieutenant Marino turned around to Dr. Winsome, but Dr. Winsome simply shook his head. Lieutenant Marino said: "The hospital people say no. Are you sure that's ten-oh-five?"
"Affirmative, sir."
"Well, keep on looking. There's probably been some kind of mistake. Maybe the suspect changed the room numbers around."
"Sir?"
"Well, I don't know! Just keep looking."
At that moment, there was a buzz from Detective Narro. His voice sounded oddly hoarse and strained.
"I seem to think we have trouble here, sir."
"What kind of trouble?" rapped Lieutenant Marino. "Did you locate the suspect?"
"Sir — we're having some kind of a — "
"Narro? You're having some kind of a what?"
"Sir — we're — "
The intercom crackled for a moment, and then went dead. For a brief moment, I heard the mournful monotone of that wind that blew and didn't blow at all. Then there was silence.
Lieutenant Marino pressed his call button "Narro? Detective Narro — can you hear me? Narro — what's going on down there?"
There was a buzz from the search team. Marino said: "Yes?"
"Sir, we seem to have run into something here. It's extremely cold down here. I don't think I've ever been anywhere quite so cold."
"Cold? What the hell are you talking about?"
"It's cold, sir. It's so cold. I think we're going to have to turn back. The flashlights won't work. It's very dark and it's very cold, sir, and I don't think we can carry on much longer."
Lieutenant Marino jabbed the call button and shouted: "Stay down there! What the hell's wrong with you people? What the hell's going on down there?"
There was silence. For the first time, in that room full of newsmen and cameramen and medics, there was silence. Then, almost imperceptibly we felt the floor rise and fall like a passing wave, and every light in the room flickered briefly. There was a strange sensation like a cloud passing over the sun, and somewhere we heard the dull, nagging sound of a mournful wind.
Lieutenant Marino went to the uniformed officer standing by the elevator doors. "Get that elevator up here," he said tightly. "I'm going down to look for myself."
The officer pressed the button and the elevator indicator rose up from 10–11 — 12–13 — 14. Lieutenant Marino tugged his police special out of his waistband, and stood by the elevator doors ready to step in when they opened.
The light on the indicator said 18. There was a hum, and the elevator doors slid back. There was a horrified gasp from everyone in the whole room.
The inside of the elevator looked like a butcher's frozen meat store. The hacked and mangled remains of every policeman in the squad lay in a red, hoar-frosted heap. There were ribcages, arms, legs and torn-apart faces, all thickly rimmed with white crystals.
Singing Rock turned away, and I watched him turn away, and I felt as helpless and agonized as he did.
CHAPTER NINE
Under the Cloud
Half an hour later, we sat in Jack Hughes' office with Lieutenant Marino and Dr. Winsome, smoking fast and drinking faster, and trying to think our way out of trouble. This time, Singing Rock and Jack Hughes and I were given something more than skeptical disinterest, and we told the police and the doctors everything we knew about Misquamacus and the strange dreams of Karen Tandy. I still didn't know if Lieutenant Marino was prepared to believe what we were telling him, but he had a slaughtered squad of police on his hands, and he wasn't in much of a position to argue.
The lights had started to flicker more regularly now, and that odd rippling motion of the floor was happening more and more often. Marino had sent out a call for reinforcements, but wherever they were coming from, they certainly seemed to be taking their own sweet time about it. Marino's intercom seemed to be growing fainter and less effective, and there was a persistent crackle on most of the telephones. A young uniformed officer had been sent out of the hospital to call for help on foot, but there was no sign of him, either.
"All right," said Marino sourly. "Supposing it's magic. Supposing all this garbage is true. What do we do about it? How do you arrest a manitou?"
Singing Rock coughed. He was looking tired and strained, and I didn't know how much longer he could keep going. The floor rose and fell underneath us, and the electric lights flickered an odd blueish color. It was like traveling by ship on a heavy swell. The remote monotonous sound of the Star Beast's gale added to the impression of a desolate voyage into unknown seas.
"I don't know how we can stop Misquamacus now," said Singing Rock. "You can feel these vibrations. They're the preliminaries to the appearance of the Great Old One. According to the legends, the Great Old One is always preceded by storms and hideous minions. Dr. Hughes can tell you all about those."