Goat Mother and Others: The Collected Mythos Fiction of Pierre Comtois (46 page)

“I realize that doctor. No one checked his room again until a few hours later at dinner time. When Mr. Scott, the orderly on duty, went to see if the patient would eat anything, he found that he was gone. We’re not sure how he managed to escape the restrainers, but one band seemed to have been chewed through.”

“Well then, how did he get out of the building? Someone must have seen him.”

“The door to his room was still locked when Scott checked but his window was open. As you know, there are no grills on the third floor windows…”

“You mean to tell me that he escaped out a third story window?”

“He must have. There was no other way out of the room. Anyway, the police agree that it must have been the window. They found impressions in the ground where someone who jumped might have landed.”

“So you called the police?”

“As per hospital policy, doctor.”

“Good. What did they say about getting the patient back?”

“They were optimistic that they could find him quickly…he was only wearing a jonnie when he escaped and was barefoot so he couldn’t have gone far.”

Stillnor breathed a sigh of relief. Nevertheless, it was never good for an institution’s reputation to have had patients under its care escape. The sooner Danforth could be found, the better.

“Well it seems the situation is under control,” said Stillnor. “Unless you think it would do any good for me to go in, I’ll remain here…”

“I think that would be all right for now, doctor.”

“Very well. Let me know as soon as you hear anything from the police. We’ll go through the whole thing in the morning.”

“Yes, doctor.”

Hanging up, Stillnor was nevertheless torn between the need to stay by the phone and an urge to hop in his car and search the streets himself. He was still debating the issue when the phone rang again.

“This is Dr. Stillnor.”

“Doctor, Popworth here. Just wanted you to know that the police reported that a cruiser spotted someone answering the description of Danforth at the bus station. If it was our patient, he managed to get some clothes somehow because he wasn’t in his jonnie.

“The bus station? How the devil did he manage to get that far without being spotted?”

“I’m sure I don’t know, doctor.”

“Well, were they able to take him into custody at least?”

“Unfortunately, no. When the officers approached him, the patient disappeared into a crowd.”

It was the last anyone heard or saw of Danforth for some weeks until officers cruising the area around Stuart Street one night caught sight of someone digging around Pickering Common. Investigating, they thought the man’s description fit that of the missing Danforth and called in the sighting. Unfortunately, the man managed to flee before he could be secured.

Naturally, the weeks since Danforth’s escape were not easy ones for Stillnor who, as supervising physician at the hospital had to account to the board for the patient’s escape. Luckily however, it was left to the superintendent to deal with family members who were understandably distraught at the situation.

But even with the escape of a patient, work at the hospital had go on and so it was that Stillnor found himself at home one night trying to catch up with paperwork when the doorbell rang. Rising, he went to the front door and opened it. Standing there was a tall man with dark hair peppered in gray.

He wore a trench coat.

“Doctor Stillnor?” the man asked.

“Yes.”

“Doctor, I’m Detective Shonross of the Arkham Police Department,” said the man, holding out identification.

“Oh, yes; we’ve spoken on the phone. Have you any news about our escaped patient?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” confirmed Shonross. “The man last seen digging around in Pickering Common has been seen again and this time we’re sure it’s Danforth.”

“Seen again?” asked Stillnor anxiously, beckoning Shonross indoors. “You sound as if he hasn’t been picked up yet.”

“He hasn’t,” admitted Shonross. “He’s managed to keep one step ahead of us so far but with an all-points alarm out, I think it’s only a matter of time before we bring him in.”

“Well, I certainly appreciate being kept informed about the department’s progress…”

“Danforth has been spotted a couple times this evening in different parts of town,” revealed Shonross. “But for a man on the run, your patient has been demonstrating some strange behavior and I thought it might be useful to talk to you about it. Maybe you can figure out what the man has in mind.”

“Well, since he was moved to our facility last year, the patient has never shown any kind of rational behavior so it’s hard to imagine that there might be any thought going into his actions.”

“Don’t want to second guess you, doctor, but the patient did have the presence of mind to escape from your hospital. He knew how to do that well enough didn’t he?”

“That’s so,” admitted Stillnor.

“So, is there any possibility that the patient is looking for something?”

“Looking for something?” asked Stillnor, surprised. “Not that I’m aware of. He’s been in one hospital or another for over forty years. It’s hardly likely that the first thing he’d do with his freedom is go looking for something…”

“He’s been missing for almost three weeks, doctor,” reminded Shonross. “So he must have been doing something in that time. Anyway, now that he’s back in Arkham, it seems that he must be looking for something because each time he’s been spotted, he was caught digging. Twice tonight he’s managed to get away from us and both times when officers went over to see what he was doing, there were fresh dug holes about two feet deep in the ground.”

Puzzled, Stillnor could offer nothing in explanation.

“The second time though, was closer than the first. Officers surprised him and when he got up to run, he dropped something. It was caked in dirt so we know it was something he’d just dug up.”

“What was it?”

“Well, that’s something we were hoping you could tell us.” So saying, the detective produced an object from his pocket and handed it to Stillnor.

Taking it, Stillnor at first thought it was just a rock but on closer examination noticed its distinct coloration and shape: that of a five pointed star with the tips broken off. The star itself was of a design he’d never seen before.

“Have any idea what that is?” asked Shonross presently.

“No. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

Just then, even through the closed doorway, the squawk of a police radio could be heard from the detective’s car parked outside.

“Have to go,” said Shonross. “I’ll leave that with you for now but let me know if you think of anything that can help us figure out what Danforth is going to do next.”

“I will,” assured Stillnor letting the detective out.

Absently, Stillnor made his way back to the study, turning the strange star stone over in his hands. By midnight there was no more news of Danforth so he thought he could snatch a few hours of sleep before heading in to work. Taking one last look at the star stone, he set it on the night table by his bed and slipped under the covers.

The first impression he had was the feeling that they were being watched. The camp site lay on a vast plain of white snow that stretched for miles back in the direction from which they had traveled. Back there, a rising wind obscured the horizon casting the whole world into a featureless white haze. The coming storm was rolling in from the direction of a towering range of mountains at the foot of which the camp had been pitched, mountains so high that their peaks were nothing but naked rocks far above the snow line. There nature, through millions of years of weathering, had so fashioned their steep flanks as to make them appear carved by human hands. Reaching downward thousands of feet into the snow at their base, the rock looked for all the world like it was a pile of giant blocks piled one atop the other. It was a formation that the camp’s leader, Prof. Joseph Lake, had intended to study at close range but for a more immediate discovery.

Standing outside the group of tents that comprised the core of the camp site, he could see in the distance the iron derrick that held the drill designed by Prof. Pabodie. With it, the expedition had managed to break through the ice into a cavern below where a remarkable discovery was made. A veritable boneyard of artifacts including a set of completely unidentifiable biological specimens that no one was certain represented either the animal or vegetable kingdoms. Excitement over the discovery was palpable and the specimens were hauled to the surface and stored outside where the cold would continue to preserve them. But Lake, being a biologist could not wait to find out more about the things and had one brought in under cover of a tent. There, he could see the fitful glow of a lantern on the rough fabric and the silhouette of figures moving inside where Lake had decided to dissect the specimen.

His feet crunching in the hoar frost, he made his way to the tent and entered. Lake was there holding a scalpel with Gedney and a few others looking on. All but Lake were clearly uncomfortable, and one look at the thing on the table before them would be enough for anyone to see why. It was almost eight feet long with some kind of membranous wings folded under it where it lay on the table. Inexplicably, there appeared to be suckers or mouths at the tips of the wing struts. Around a thick middle, spread equidistantly around the thing were five rubbery tentacles that in turn branched out twice more with sub-groups of five smaller filaments. Atop the thing was a huge rugose mass in the shape of a five pointed star with stalks projecting from each point. The flesh at the end of one stalk was pulled back to reveal what looked to be an eye. Atop the star shaped head was a grotesque looking slit. The base of the thing was likewise-appendaged with a series of extensions that could have supplied locomotion. It was altogether a disgusting sight made worse by an almost overpowering stench that filled the enclosed space. It was a situation in which he had to force himself to remain where he was. At that moment, Lake had just finished opening the thing up when there was a sudden disturbance outside.

Everyone in the tent started when the dogs, which had been kept in a corral some distance from the main camp site, erupted in a wild frenzy of howling and whining. When he emerged from the tent to see what was happening, the wind outside had progressed into a gale that set the tents to flapping and lashed unprotected faces with crystals of icy snow. Holding his hand over his eyes, he looked in the direction of the corral just in time to see the dogs break through their snowy enclosure and begin to run off. But then it seemed to him that vague figures moving in the storm positioned themselves to stop the stampede. He could make out nothing for some minutes but in that time, the sounds of the dogs died away among a few isolated yelps. Finally all was quiet again and he was on the point of investigating when one of the tents collapsed in the wind. Rushing to the scene to save what he could, he thought he heard screaming from still another tent that had been set aside for the radio. Changing his mind about the collapsed tent, he leaned into the howling storm and made for the radio hut instead. Some minutes later, he reached it and burst inside. There he found no one. Camp stools and bunks, however, had been overturned, the radio smashed, and everywhere there was a stench that threatened to make his gorge rise. Holding his hand over his mouth, he stumbled from the tent. Squinting into the driving snow, he thought he saw movement outside the tent where Lake and the others had been gathered, but they seemed strangely disfigured and over large. Was it the howling wind or did he hear the sounds of screaming? He thought he heard a crash but could not be sure. The next he knew, movement around the distant tent had ceased along with any noise save that of the wind. Struggling against the rapidly gathering snow, he lifted his feet and trudged toward where he had seen the activity. At last, he fell through the tent opening to find the interior a chaos of smashed instruments and scattered equipment. In the center of the enclosure, the table still stood but the specimen that Lake had been dissecting was gone. Again, there was that terrible smell and footprints in the snow blown into the tent by the wind outside hinted at furious and hurried activity.

Suddenly, above the howling wind outside and the furious noise of the shuddering tent, he thought he heard screams — but the kind of screams more akin to animals than human beings. Had some of the dogs returned to the campsite? Now wondering where the others had gone, he looked toward the snow shelters erected to protect the expedition’s airplanes from the weather. Surprised, he noticed that one of the planes had been removed from its shelter and the dull flicker of a lantern danced inside the hollow where it had been stored. Making his way to the plane, its details and those of the enclosure became more vivid. He came across a deep trail through the snow leading to the shelter. Strewn about were various camping implements and foodstuffs. Near the entrance to the enclosure, he saw a few of the expedition’s sleds piled high with supplies. A tarp covering one of the sleds moved with more energy than could be expected from the wind. He veered aside and reaching it, pulled the tarp back. Beneath it was Gedney, strapped tightly to the sled. His eyes stared about in maniacal panic and though he tried to say something, all he could manage were unintelligible mutterings. Saliva dribbled from the corners of his mouth and froze on his cheeks.