Goat Mother and Others: The Collected Mythos Fiction of Pierre Comtois (31 page)

Suddenly her expression clouded. “You’re not going to bring up that stuff about monsters again, are you? Because if you are…”

I held up my hands in protest, fearing her anger. “No, no. I just think this island is made kind of funny, that’s all.”

She visibly relaxed, and said, “All right, then stop fretting and follow me.” She turned and began making her way up the slight incline beneath the trees. As the land began to rise gently I noticed that the terrain beneath the trees wasn’t smooth. Here and there amid the foliage, which was in no way thick or heavy, more like a lightly wooded forest glade, I spied huge boulders, one might even call them blocks, resting haphazardly all about us. Soon I realized that not only were there hundreds of them within sight, but that the very ground we walked on was composed of the same rubble we had encountered on the beach. The only difference was that because it was farther inland, silt that had settled about it while the island had presumably rested on the bottom of the ocean had not been eroded away by the action of the surf. As we continued to climb, and the way became steeper and steeper, the boulders became more plentiful and the trees gave way to mere undergrowth. The walk became a climb and soon we were obliged to help each other up over the rocks that increased in size until finally, resting atop one, we took the time to look back at the way we’d come.

The morning mist had fully lifted by that time, revealing the island in its entirety. Carol and I found ourselves on an outcropping of rocks that formed a fractured ledge overlooking the portion of the island we’d just traversed. I could see the boat resting along the shore and the black beach from which we’d started our hike. From where we stood, we could see a good portion of the island and it became more apparent to me than ever that there was something not quite right about it. Except for patches of greenery here and there in its lower reaches, its entire surface was a single, vast pile of shattered stone that seemed to tumble down to the sea. As a matter of fact, from where I stood, I could see that whole ridges of boulders simply wound down the face of the high ground and disappeared beneath the sea. At last, I turned to face the upper reaches of the island, on part of which I stood. Although it didn’t tower too much further than where we rested, it seemed much larger than it must’ve been. It had a huge escarpment of sorts, now more obviously segmented into gargantuan blocks that rested together without need of mortar and, as my eyes trailed downward from those heights to the sea, I became convinced that the formation, whatever it was, wasn’t natural. Even as I looked, I could guess that the whole island was merely the tip of some colossal structure that had been shattered in the cataclysmic force that hurled the sea floor upon which it rested to the surface.

“Look, Vic,” said Carol, breaking into my thought. “Here are those funny marks again.” I looked at where she was pointing, and again saw the strange cracks in the rocks that we’d seen the day before on the beach. They weren’t hieroglyphics or writing of any kind, I was sure of that. They seemed to be more in the nature of stress lines, as if a gigantic weight had settled over the whole island. As if, ridiculous as it sounds, part of the island had existed in an environment with different laws than that of the earth and maybe when it was forcibly thrown upward, it was torn from those forces that held it together. But I was saved from wasting more time thinking over such fantasies by Carol’s latest exclamation.

“Vic, look!” She was holding another piece of golden jewelry. “We’re on the right track!” she said, putting the piece in my hand. I was still looking at it when she exclaimed again. “Hey, what was that?”

“What was what?” I said, looking up.

“I saw something move up there,” she said, pointing up toward the truncated high ground of the island.

“Are you sure? We haven’t seen a living thing all day.” As a matter of fact, we hadn’t seen a living thing outside of plants since we had spotted the island. The thought of finding something now, instead of reassuring me, only gave me the chills.

“I’m sure of it. Let’s go check it out.” So saying, she began to negotiate the last expanse of rock to the top. With no choice but to follow, I did likewise.

“Check this out,” Carol suddenly called back over her shoulder. Looking up past her legs and rear end, I saw her holding out more of the golden jewelry. She tucked it into her back pocket, where it dangled against her buttocks as she made it the rest of the way to the top. In another minute I joined her. “The main cache must be around here somewhere,” she was saying as she scanned the cracked and fissured surface before her.

“What about that movement you said you saw?” I asked nervously.

She sensed my unease and dismissed it with, “Forget about that, it was probably just a bird. Start looking around for more treasure. Why don’t you start over there?” Not liking the idea of separating, I did as instructed anyway and began to wander over to a short outcropping of rock. Carol grew smaller and smaller in the distance as she searched in the opposite direction. Then I heard her cry out and spun around. I caught a glimpse of her just as she disappeared over the edge of the escarpment. Fearing for her safety, I dashed across the intervening space and when I arrived at the spot from which she’d vanished, I saw her, gun in hand, peeking cautiously into a darkened fissure in the side of the mountain.

“Is there anything wrong?” I asked.

“No,” she said, without looking up. “…I don’t know. I saw something down here that looked like gold, and when I jumped down, I thought I saw something move in here.”

“Well, c’mon back up.”

“No way; you come on down and back me up.” I hesitated until she looked back at me, her eyes flashing, and said, “Let’s go, Vic!”

Gulping, I crouched down and jumped the eight feet or so to the ledge. When I straightened, Carol said, “Get your gun out, just in case; stay here and watch my back. I’m gonna take a look just inside the opening and see or there’s any sign of treasure; it sure looks like the perfect hideout for it.”

I took out my pistol and nodded, not trusting my voice. For some reason I couldn’t explain, the island was straining my already weakened nerves. “Be careful, Carol,” was all I could say.

“Just don’t chicken out on me, Vic.”

Then she slipped out of sight. I moved over to where she’d been standing, glancing nervously around the ledge and holding my gun up. Carefully, I inched closer to the opening and peeked inside. I could see Carol moving about, stooping here and there as she checked for more jewelry. “See anything?” I asked.

“Nothing,” she replied testily. “C’mon over and help me look.” Swallowing, I rounded the corner and stepped into the cool interior.

“Put that thing away, and start sifting through some of this sand.” I had just holstered my gun when there was a slight rustling sound from the darkened rear of the fissure and suddenly Carol’s scream filled the tiny space like a physical thing. I instinctively stepped back in surprise and fell over a rock. With Carol’s screams still in my ears, I felt rough hands try to get hold of me, but I wriggled out of them and regained my feet. For an instant I thought of running, but there was just enough of my manly pride to think of Carol, so instead, I shoved my way the few feet to where I could see her struggling against whomever it was that had also tried to grab me. The weight of my body must have taken them by surprise, because I managed to wrench Carol free and drag her toward the entrance. Her bikini top had vanished in the struggle and her gun was gone.

“Let’s get out of here,” I yelled, but Carol, unbelievably, still hesitated.

She swung her angry face in my direction and said through gritted teeth and wisps of undone hair that hung before her eyes, “And leave the treasure? You’ve still got your gun, use it!”

I hesitated, and in that hesitation she took the gun from my holster herself and swung it in the direction of our assailants, whom I’d imagined simply to be island natives. But as the first few advanced into the light near the entrance of the fissure, their true nature was revealed. Dressed in what seemed a combination of various seaweeds, dried kelp, and sea shells, it was their faces that revealed the fact that they were no mere natives but white men. I froze as the first flashes of Carol’s pistol shots showed the chamber crowded with the forlorn figures and, though it was impossible for her to miss under such circumstances, I thought she must have, until I saw her last shot pass through the forehead of the man closest to us without effect.

After that, they were on us again, Carol kicking and shouting defiant curses and I…I reeled back outside and scrambled down the face of the mountain. Blind panic had eroded the last vestiges of my pride and sheer fright propelled me downward over that landscape made harsher in the dying light of the day. By the time I reached the treeline, I was exhausted and my clothes were in ribbons; I stumbled to a breathless halt on my hands and knees as my ears finally began to register the pitiful screams still dimly emanating from the cavern mouth. I scrambled to my feet, not returning to my right mind until long after I had climbed aboard ship, a ragged, bleeding mess.

When the clouds finally began to lift from my brain, I found myself perched on the edge of the boat’s bunk with an empty bottle of Scotch rolling on the deck. There’d only been a few fingers left to it, but it was all the liquor we’d had left. Unfortunately, it hadn’t been enough to erase the memory of the events of a few hours before. But was it the memories I’d been trying to wipe out, or the shame of my being driven to this kind of mental paralysis? Over and over again I rationalized it all in my mind: years of failed effort scavenging the seas of the world, months of degradation in Labuan, and having gotten used to Carol doing the thinking for the both of us, had made me a different man. There were too many of those…things, up there. And Carol, I knew she didn’t love me, she only tolerated me because she needed me. How many times had we made love without passion or feeling? How often had she treated me with thoughtless, even cruel, abandon? She’d been an opportunist from that first day she swam up to the boat in Florida, and like a sap I’d fallen for her like a ton of bricks. I’d been a sap all right, and still was one, because even then, I couldn’t help feeling something for her. Whether either of us like it or not, she’d become a part of my life and I couldn’t imagine it without her. I guess I loved her, despite it all. Suddenly, as if to punctuate that last difficult admission, I heard, or thought I heard, a distant scream come over the water; like a siren, it seemed to pull me from the darkened confines of the cabin out onto the open deck of the boat. I think I must’ve been irrational then; how else to explain the fact that I just dove into the water and swam to shore without even bothering to supply myself with fresh clothes or a gun? I hardly remember following our trail back up the escarpment, the way lit only by the light of the full moon. At last, I found myself back at the entrance to the fissure from which Carol had been taken. All was quiet then, so I slipped inside, stopped, and listened. I didn’t hear anything, so I found a wall and followed it to the rear of the chamber.

With my heart pounding like mad, I discovered the opening those things had boiled out from and stepped through and continued on down the passage in the same manner I’d used in the fissure.

As my hand ran along the walls, I could feel irregularities that seemed to cover every inch of them, irregularities that arranged in patterns, unlike the cracks that we’d seen on the outside. Although I couldn’t see them, I imagined the patterns in my mind and they began to impress on me certain suggestions that, as they became clearer, began to repulse me. At last the imagery they inspired reached such a point that I had to jerk my hand back from the wall as if from an electric shock. As I shrank back from the wall, the loathsome images began to fade from my mind only to be replaced by other, as yet vague, psychic intrusions. As the intrusions grew stronger, somewhere in the back of my mind, I could still muster some surprise at my newfound courage. Instead of turning back and running as I would’ve done up until only a few hours before, I kept moving forward and as I did, I felt all my fears melting away. At last, after what seemed an eternity, the floor of the passage began to slope downward. Continuing to walk along the narrow tunnel I finally came upon a dim glow of light ahead. Proceeding cautiously, I began to hear a jumble of voices all speaking at once, or maybe chanting together, which grew louder the closer I approached the light. Suddenly, I came upon a wide opening and, peeking around the edge, saw that it opened onto a vast, sunken chamber. From where I stood, the opening led out onto a narrow ledge that lined one side of the chamber. At regular intervals, blazing torches were fastened into walls oddly carved with vile imagery. Strangely, with little apprehension, I stepped out onto the ledge, joining the humanoid creatures which had taken Carol. They were still dressed in their robes of seaweed, but now they were festooned, incongruously, with the same strange, pale gold jewelry they must have placed like breadcrumbs on a trail to lead us here. There was our treasure: tiaras, bracelets, and pendants catching the firelight.

The creatures were spaced out evenly between the torches, their arms raised stiffly over their heads as they droned some kind of chant. It was then that it occurred to me that they weren’t speaking aloud at all, but that I was receiving their thoughts directly in my brain. With that revelation, all became clear. I leaned forward to look more closely into the bowels of the chamber where the light of the torches didn’t quite penetrate.

I began to notice details that had escaped me before: the constant sound of water sloshing about, coming from far below and echoing throughout the huge hall; and the almost overpowering stench of rotting sea things. As my eyes accustomed themselves to the flickering light, they began to form a picture of that space below. Moonlight filtered through a low arch of rock to one side where the ocean lapped in and out, flooding the chamber floor; water that dimly sparkled as it washed inward, lapping about the foot of a small mountain of rock and coral that slowly built itself into a thick bed of living mollusks, crustaceans, dead fish, and even frogs. I would’ve looked further, but just then my attention was drawn to a disturbance on the far side of the chamber. There was an opening there similar to the one I’d just come out of, but with no ledge. Two torches burned on either side of the opening.