The Lurker at the Threshold : A Horror Mystery by Brandon Berntson (books under 200 pages .txt) 📗

“Correct.”

“There’s no shortage of things to do.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

—

It took them over an hour to get to Arkham. The first thing Macky noticed was the lack of rain.  The sun was shining brightly over a vastly green, lush landscape even though it was approaching sunset.  Arkham looked like a botanical garden.  The summer had sped up the process.  Was the serum still working its chemistry into the earth?  Was Shub-Niggurath lying in wait below?

He turned his attention to the asylum on the hill.  Though he couldn’t see it, the density of foliage, verdure, and plant life looked like something from the prehistoric era.  Not just the density of foliage, but the size.  Leaves like palm trees, stalks of plants the size of tree trunks gave a density to the area that made it look like a jungle.  The woods were no longer visible but buried under further growth.  Plants and trees had corkscrewed, twisted, and arced in ways that made them look beautifully artistic.  The boles and branches were shaped in alien, random configurations.  Arkham had not only turned green.  It was another world.

He couldn’t help but wonder what was lurking below, however.  If the serum had created this, what had happened to Shub-Niggurath?  The tomb-legions?  What had happened to every creeping, crawling thing that dwelled above and below the earth?  Had they morphed into a new species?  Macky thought of the worm that had killed Tiki, of Adelaide, and couldn’t help feeling sad.

“Where to now?” Macky asked.

“You remember where Miskatonic is?”

“The university?  All too clearly.”

After some maneuvering through the streets, passing the Bannister Inn (several cars were parked in the lot), Macky found the university looking much brighter and cleaner under the late afternoon sun.

The gray stone architecture looked more bleached, lush lawns, overhanging trees, and the soft, autumn sky.

“This is all too familiar,” he said.  “I didn’t expect to be back so soon.”

“I’m sorry to dredge up old ghosts, Dev,” Capshaw said.

They got out of the car.  Macky let the man lead the way up the sidewalk to the doors.  When he walked inside, standing in the same spot he’d stood with Millie, he was surprised when Capsahw cupped his hands and called, “Dr. Armitage!  Are you here?  Hello?”

Macky turned and frowned.  Henry’s life had been taken by the tomb-legions.  Though he’d never seen the man’s body, he’d never doubted his demise.  He was about to tell Capshaw this when he heard a voice, distinctly familiar, and bristling with all the cantankerous charm he remembered:

“Confound it, what is it now?”

“It can’t be,” Macky said under his breath.

Capshaw turned toward him.  “You said something, Dev?”

Macky looked up.  A face he couldn’t see was looking down at them, holding a lantern over the rail.

“Impossible,” he said, under his breath.

“What is it?” the voice called.  “Who’s there?  Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“It’s me, Henry, Creighton.  I need your help.  I’m with a friend.  Can we come up?”

“Of all the blasted, inconsiderate, interruptions . . . there isn’t anything I can . . .Oh, confound it all to pieces!”

It was the good doctor, Henry Armitage, alive and well, and as grumpy as ever.  Macky couldn’t believe it.

“Creighton, you say?” Armitage said.  His voice seemed to soften as he remembered his friend.  “Capshaw?  From Innsport?  You’ve made a long trip.  Come on up.”

“You see how easy that was?” Capshaw said.

Capshaw said nothing about it on the way, and Macky had been too preoccupied with memories to ask.

“The elevator still works,” Armitage said.  “Feebly, but it works.”

Macky looked to the cage elevator and sighed.  “This old thing again.”

“Huh?” Creighton said.

“Nothing.”

—

When Macky got off the elevator and saw Armitage, it was as if nothing had changed.  He was wearing the same brown tweed jacket, vest, white shirt, and bowtie.  He wore dark brown corduroy trousers, two-toned cream and brown shoes.  The same eyeglasses were on his face, beady and round, his hair mussed and spiky gray.

“Good heavens!” the man said.  “Is that . . . Devlin Macky?”

“You remembered,” Macky said, smiling.  “I thought Eric Moorland had . . . He said you were dead . . .”

Their relationship had been frosty.  Armitage had taken more to Millie than to Macky.  But that had changed.  The old man stepped toward, smiled wide, and wrapped his arms around him.  It caught Macky off guard.  When he pulled away, the smile transformed Henry’s entire visage.

“How have you been, lad?  Where’s that beautiful sidekick of yours?”

“I’ve been good.  She’s back in Innsport.  That’s part of why we’re here.  How on earth did you get away from Moorland?”

Capshaw stood watching all this with some amusement.  “I’m sorry, Dev.  I never thought to say anything about Armitage. I assumed you knew.”

“I wanted to surprise you,” Armitage said.  “And I kept meaning to. But we had issues here for a while that needed our attention.  Still do.”

Macky didn’t know what to think. He stood shaking his head, but the smile never left his face.  “I never thought to ask.  I just assumed you were gone.  I wanted to pay Addy a visit, too, but we have some problems of our own.  How did you get away from Moorland, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“He thought he killed me,” Armitage said, matter-of-factly.  “Certainly.  I thought he did, too.  He dumped me in a cell after knocking me out.  I think he planned on leaving me there to die, to be quite honest.  But the chemical reaction, Lot Twenty-six flooded through everything, along with all the water building up.  Some of the walls and doors were weak from all the moisture after so many years.  I was able to get out in time, but just barely.  I heard the blast as I was coming up the stairwell.  I just missed being