Rockwell Falls.12.
Noir felt tendrils of wet and heat curl along his feet and arms before he was lifted from the grass and tossed through the opening in the side of the pyramid. Thudding on the cool marble floor next to him was Charlotte, who let out a gasp as the air was knocked from her lungs. Painfully turning his head, Noir caught a glimpse as the last of the light from the outside world extinguished itself against the closing pyramid. Sconces began to light themselves in a light orange flame one by one around a large chamber, illuminating a statue in the center. Pushing himself off the floor, Noir stared at the Statue as the shadows flickering from the torches poured around its base. Charlotte rose quietly, though through the sound of her bated breaths he could tell she was nursing a wound. A glance revealed a shard of rock on the floor where she fell, dripping the dark ochre of blood.
“Ants.”
The voice filled all space in the chamber, making no reverberation or notion of its origin.
“That is the simplest example, a representation, I can provide to you. Ants.”
Noir grabbed Charlotte’s arm as she stumbled towards him, a spot of red growing on her side.
He curses before angrily looking at the statue. It betrayed no simple shape or creature. It had features of flowing grain and grazing cattle, yet also of roving bands of locust and blight, all attached to a breathing stone.
“What do you want with this town, god? Of what use does it give to you? Do you not understand that your interference may wake up The One Who Dreams?”
The pyramid shudders at the mention of its name, the flames flickering along the wall.
“Insolent ants. Infesting my home, infesting my thoughts, angering those beyond their comprehension.”
The shadows pour from the base of the statue, leaving behind a pool of still water. They form in front of Noir into the vague manifestation of a man, formless and faceless. Noir, trembling and mind screaming at the mere presence of the shadows, stood as resolute as possible. The figure cocked its head to the side.
“Noir. You and your agency intrude into what is beyond its scope, beyond its ability.”
Charlotte coughed, blood splattering on Noir’s white shirt. Her weight became heavier on his arm. The formless figure reached out a dripping tendril to Charlotte’s face, but Noir backed away from its reach.
“Answer me, god! Before I invoke his name once more and summon his mind to your domicile again!”
“You would bring destruction upon yourself and all you hold dear.”
“I welcome the oblivion.”
The shadows receded. Noir takes off his tie with his free hand and wraps it around Charlotte’s bleeding wound while keeping the figure in the corner of his eye. Noir can feel the air around him feel like static, and the warping of his vision tugging at the edges of his vision. His invocation has already weakened the threads of reality in the chamber. It was a tangible tension, a Damocles sword that hangs over both their heads, threatening to tear asunder the very plane of existence they stood in. The shadowy man began to slowly glide around the detective, the air of frustration and anger emitting from its form.
“You want answers then, you so-called detective? Fine.”
The pyramid began to flash in colors of the harvest, faster and faster until images began to appear on the infinite walls of the pyramid. The Farming Commission house appeared on the wall, a group of men seen sitting within from its large windows along its porch.
“I was awoken to the spilling of blood in the fields of what you call France. My ancient slumber was stirred and I saw that ants had infested my residence. My palace of isolation, set upon by lowly lifeforms. Yet…”
The images changed, the men of the Farming Commission circling a scarecrow on their knees, arms to the sky in prayer. Piles of dead cattle lay before it, flies fly in patterns resembling that of a face. Charlotte looks up from Noir’s shoulder to see her Uncle on his knees before the scarecrow as well.
“No..” She coughs up more blood, falling further onto Noir’s arm. Noir pulls her up close to his face and whispers in her ear, his eyes never leaving the god.
“Dust storm after dust storm ravaged their neighbors, they were scared. They would have done anything. Anything. I would breathe life into their worthless soil, keep their sun in their sky when it would leave others. In return, I asked for blood. The blood of suffering. Drip after drip I would drink and laugh heartily at the silly ants circling their effigies.”
“You didn’t even need the blood. You don’t need to feed.”
“Astute. I am no god of their harvest like they wish me to be. I am a being beyond their understanding. What I did was nothing to me, but everything to them. I wanted to see how much they would sacrifice for me. Purely for amusement.”
“Don’t lie to me, god. You gain power from belief and sacrifice.” Noir eyed the statue, catching the tell-tale signs of the R’lyehian language.
“Shor Ya’thor.”
The figure closed the distance between them, its arm reaching and grabbing Noir’s throat. Charlotte fell to the floor with a cry of pain as she fell on her wound. Noir’s hands clawed at his throat, his nails only digging into a cold sludge.
“Careful of the names you utter, detective. They have power in them.”
Shor Ya’thor slammed the detective to the floor, creating a dent in the marble. Noir tried to crawl away, but the god grabbed his leg and pulled him into the air upside down. As he hung there, his pockets emptied and poured beneath him. His notebook and several pencils and pens clattered on the hard rock.
“My rouse was perfect, but I grew tired of their livestock. I wanted a bigger payment. One made of suffering from all involved. I wanted to feel their commitment. I asked for the true sacrifice, one of their own.”
He throws Noir behind him, the detective slamming into the statue and splashing into the dark liquid at its base. The detective crawled out of the pool of water, spitting out the foul taste in his mouth. Shakily standing to his feet, he stared at Shor Ya’thor and smirked, blood pouring from his mouth and nose. The god floated above him, an aura of pestilence about them causing a deep itching in his skin. He steps towards the god.
“So when one of them got cold feet you became worried. Worried that those above you will find out someone was breaking the rules, trying to sneakily gain power over your superiors. So you told your followers to kill him. Except -”
A long shadow tendril slapped Noir back into the pool as the pyramid shook again.
“Except the ants cannot follow orders. They were sloppy. Clueless. A simpleton like you could easily follow the trail they left behind. I had to intercede. They cried for my mercy but as you say, it fell on deaf ears. I culled the lame stock and took no time in capturing you further and further into my trap. I must admit though, detective. You and your companion were resistant to a degree I thought not possible.”
Crawling from the pool yet again, Noir keeled over on the edge, coughing up the black water.
“It's *cough* it's because you’re not a powerful god.” He looked up at the god and smiled
“Nor a smart one. NOW!”
The god turned his head instantly to see Charlotte, holding his notebook, begin to read aloud.
“Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn”
“NO!”
The pyramid began to shake without end, the tremors increasing and increasing in their ferocity. Tears appeared in the walls, huge cracks where emerald water began to flood into the room. A deep, low rumble began to reverberate from the walls. The god’s form began to flicker as it raced to its statue. Noir, stumbling from the pool and slipping on the flooding waters, rushed to Charlotte and covered her with his coat. He knelt next to her and yelled.
“DO NOT OPEN YOUR EYES! DO NOT LISTEN TO THE SOUND! COUNT FROM 100!”
The sound of a whale screaming, a large warship breaking in half, and the screams of millions filled the room. The cracks in the wall grew larger and larger, and Noir could catch glimpses of glowing yellow eyes peering through. The pyramid’s top, which Noir thought to be infinite in its height, was torn off from its base where a black sun could shine its heretical light down onto the statute.
“MY LORD! IT IS A MISUNDERSTANDING! I WOULD NEVER TRY TO SUPERSEDE…I WOULD NEVER…. PLEASE!”
Shards of obsidian flew from the wall like shattered glass, splintering across the chamber. The emerald waters rose faster and faster. Noir, grasping the notebook from Charlotte’s nerve wrecked and pale hands as she frantically counted faster and faster, began to read aloud from its soaked pages. Charlotte, whose eyes were closed, could only feel the cold of the water and the sharp pain in her side. She could see through her closed eyes flashes of light as green lighting struck the statue in the middle. The breathing stone flew off in chunks, a screaming never meant to be heard by human ears sounding in the ears of the duo.
“I BEG FOR YOUR MERCY! PLEASE SPARE MY EXISTENCE! DO NOT SEND BACK INTO THE UNCONSCIOUS! I WISH TO LIVE THE DREAM!”
The god was only met with the roar of the greater god, as Noir paused in his reading to witness the awesome. A hand, larger than any building or mountain he had seen, crashed through the wall. A tsunami of green following it, animals of the ocean with its arrival. The hand, marked with weeds and coral of the sea and tentacles grasped out at the statue and crushed it within a single clutch. At once, the pyramid began to collapse, and the water began to pour in greater and greater magnitudes. Noir went back to his book, reading faster and faster.
Charlotte stopped her counting, the water now at her head, and was waiting for the roaring water to finally cover her until -
Charlotte felt warm.
She opened her eyes and saw she was laying on a simple wood floor, though now covered in seawater. She sat up, still in pain. A cursory glance revealed she was in Noir’s hotel room at her mom’s Inn. before her, like a tear in fabric upon the air, knelt Noir as he looked at her through the tear.
“Noir…where..”
“Charlotte.” His voice came through echoey, distant. “I sent you through a tear in reality spawned by his arrival. I was only strong enough to push one of us through. My job is done. I’ve kept the balance. You have a long life ahead of you, Charlotte. Forget as much as this as possible and live a normal life. You still have that ability.”
Charlotte could see the rushing water approach faster and faster behind him and she feebly reached out to the detective. “Noir.. behind..”
“Thank you, Captain. For your help. Keep well.” As the water finally hit Noir, he tossed his hat through and the tear was shut, with only a few spurts of seawater remaining. Charlotte could hear the stomping of feet up the stairs behind her, but she was not focusing on it. She crawled to the hat, the soaking wet fedora, and held it in her hands. Her head, faint from the blood loss and stress, could only see its shape. She held it close to her chest, the world around her turning blacker and blacker. She could not hear her mother’s cry of fear when she saw her. She could not see the men who carried her down the stairs to the ambulance. She could only see the dying god who tossed her partner like a child’s toy. She could only see those orbs of yellow staring through the cracks in the impossible pyramid. The pile of dead bodies in the basement of the Farming Commission. The monsters are made of plants and scarecrows.
She could only feel the wet wool of the hat of the man who had sacrificed himself to save her.
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The town died overnight.
No one knew what caused it, but happening after happening caused the near-instant decline of Rockwell Falls.
Within a month the once healthy soil dried up and died, capable of only growing weeds and “For Sale” signs. A harsh winter came and killed much of the livestock and halted any movements to move out of the town for a couple of months. What livestock wasn’t killed by the chill was eaten. A town built on the miracle of the endless harvest died the minute the miracle ended. And this wasn’t even including the arrests and flight of the affluent.
Charlotte walked down the once-bustling main street, looking into the windows of the abandoned storefronts and sighing. It was autumn, her favorite season. She remembers how the town used to look at this time of year. Pumpkins and gourds sat on the doorsteps of the homes and storefronts. She remembered the music that use to play from the radio on porches and the taste of the fresh apple cider that came from the orchard not too far down the road.
That orchard didn’t grow anything anymore. All the trees caught a blight and died before they could grow anything more than a flower. Charlotte sighed as she turned the corner on the road, looking out towards the winding trail that lead away from the place. So many times had she wanted to take it and leave. So many times had she been so close to doing just that, only to stop short of putting the key in the ignition.
She was stuck here. But it was worse than that. She was stuck here and alone in the worst way.
After she had gotten dismissed from the hospital, she went on a witchhunt. Exposing the basement of the Farming Commission (though the doors that she and Noir had walked through had vanished) opened an investigation into all members. Searches of their properties turned fruitful as journals and murder weapons were carted out by the handfuls. Past and present members of the commission were sent away to prison, and Charlotte thought she had saved the town somewhat, now that those who would murder for a few crops were gone.
Now she can see she did nothing but hasten its downfall. Within months the crop yields dwindled and the dust storms that ravaged their neighbors finally laid waste to them. Without the protection of Shor Ya’thor, all the pestilence that he had kept at bay for decades had struck at once. Farmers left the town, selling their property. Their friends and family followed. Charlotte’s mother moved away to stay with family in Detroit, inviting her to do the same. But Charlotte couldn’t leave.
So she stayed as the only officer of the law in town. It only needed one. Not more than 100 people were here, and most of them were over the age of 60. Her job consisted more of housework than police work. Her dreams of reforming a major precinct went out the window, along with a normal life in the process. All it turned up because a visitor to town appeared last fall. And even though he is long gone, Charlotte stayed. Hoping against all logic and reason he would come back.
She chuckled as she walked down the opposite side of the main street. Logic and reason had no place with that man. He worked in ways that seemed to spite logic and reason for the purse satisfaction of doing so. Logic and reason. The words felt funny to her. Logic and reason had lost all meaning.
Facing the end of her patrol, she returned to the mostly empty police station and stared at the emptiness of it all. She glanced at the hat rack where she was hanging up her coat, spotting the wool fedora of the detective. It would have been one year to the day since he came to this town. A year to the day since her life was flipped, turned away from the path of logic and reason. She reached for it, smirking. Yet as she tugged at the fabric she felt a tear in the stitching. Sighing, she slowly lifted the hat from the rack and walked over to her desk, taking her sewing kit out of the drawer. Turning over the hat looking for the tear she found it… along with a slip of paper peeking out from behind the stitching. Curious, her brow furrowed, she retrieve the paper from the hat, careful not to tear it any further. It was yellowed from age, and well worn from its hidden compartment. Unfurling the paper she saw a series of letters that didn’t form words, yet she recognized them regardless. They were the words that Noir had told her to yell while holding his notebook. The ones that caused the water to flood the pyramid and summon that beast with the huge yellow eyes. Coupled with the words was a small note scribbled at the bottom.
“In case I get stuck, read these aloud while holding the hat. Then, rescue me!”
“Rescue you?! That’s it? That’s all you thought was worth writing down?!” Charlotte helped the paper tightly, her face turning red while tears pooled in her eyes. She hated this man. Oh, she hated him with her entirety. Everything he does brings nothing but pure rage when she thinks of him. And yet despite her better judgment she stood up from her desk, grabbed her revolver, and stepped outside. Once on the porch of the police station, she bent over and grabbed a long length of rope she kept by in case she needed to tie a horse up. It's happened more than you think.
Taking deep breaths, Charlotte looked at the paper once again.
“Oh you bastard, I hope you’re still alive so I can kill your ass for making me do this.”
She cleared her throat. The fall wind picked up, orange and yellow leaves flowing in the breeze. She could feel the chill temperature against her skin, a slight tremble in her legs. She spoke aloud.
“Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Bl’ankuh Kn’our R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.”
The sound of fabric tearing echoed, and lightning struck not four feet from her. An earth-shattering explosion, a symposium of green light overloaded her senses and for a brief minute, she could smell the salt of the sea and feel the spray of ocean mist. Opening her eyes she could see through the tear, into the collapsing pyramid. On the other side, she could see the detective being assaulted with wave after wave, his head barely above the water. His arms flailed pathetically against the waves and his mouth gasped for air as the pyramid only further crumbled.
“NOIR!”
The detective’s head glanced in her direction and a look of utter shock and awe washed over him before a wave did the same. Wasting not a moment, Charlotte grabbed the rope and tied an end to the hitching post in front of the station. Grabbing the other end she tied a hasty lasso. Not one of her best, but it’ll do. She stepped back to the tear, beginning to circle the rope above her head. Noir’s hand reached out from the water, the last wind of a drowning man. She catapults the rope through the tear, watching as it travels almost a full football field to the flailing detective. He makes way to the rope, swimming against the turbulent waves of green and black. Grabbing onto the rope, he tugs on it and Charlotte begins to reel him in.
Charlotte struggles against the weight, digging her feet into the concrete parking barrier in front of her. Every foot gained feels like a mile, but she can see the detective getting closer. The groaning of the beast gets louder the longer the tear is open, and Charlotte can feel her body and mind getting weaker but she persisted. A burning feeling overtakes her but doesn’t focus on it. She does not focus on her clothes, which turn more and more muted. She does not focus on her hands, which grow paler and paler. She only looks down at the detective. She focuses only on Noir. She sees only her partner.
As the man approaches the tear, his hands reaching through to the other world, the beast appears in its totality. Charlotte catches only a glimpse of its face, yet it is almost enough to drive her mad. In those eyes, she saw the creations and destruction of whole worlds and realities that once were and will never be. She saw her entire life at every stage at every possibility.
Yet she persisted, grabbing at Noir’s shoulders and throwing him over her shoulders.
As his feet left the tear, it disappeared. And with it, those glowing yellow eyes staring at her.
Charlotte collapses to her knees from exhaustion. She looks down at her hands, expecting to see the deep red rope burns that would sting her for days to come. Instead, she looks at her grayscale skin. For a solid few minutes, she sits there, silent. The only noise made comes from the wind and Noir’s deep breaths of exhaustion behind her. Her eyes look down at her clothes, covered in the same gray-scale filter of herself. Looking down at the pool of water before her, she sees her face is the very same.
And she laughs.
It starts small, a laugh of denial. But it grows. Grows into a laugh of acceptance of the loss of logic and reason. Logic and reason are long gone, and she went with them. Noir glances up from his spent state to see his savior carry the same complexion as him.
“Charlotte... Your skin is..”
“Yeah, yeah it's like yours, isn’t it?” She laughs, tears pooling in her eyes.
“You know detective, had this happened any sooner I would have freaked out. But now? It's just a confirmation. A confirmation that my life as I knew it is over.” Her laughs die down.
“It ended when you first came here.”
She turns to face the detective. He slowly sits up, soaking wet and bandages falling from under his shirt. She points a white finger at him.
“You owe me a job now, mister. I saved your life yet again. I expect to be compensated for it this time.”
Noir spits out some seawater that pooled in his mouth, a look of confusion coming over him.
“What? Charlotte, am I hearing you right, or is there still water in my ear?”
She stands up, shaking some of the water off of her before turning and leaning over Noir.
“What I mean, is that my ‘normal life’ you told me to live disappeared the moment you left. This town is empty. Everyone is gone. I have nowhere to go, no one to speak to. No one who would understand what I had gone through to supposedly ‘save’ this town. No one but you. So goddamnit you gumshoe you’re going to offer me a job right now and you’re going to keep me with you.”
“I’m going to keep you with me?”
“Of course you are, dumbass. Who else is going to save you every time you almost get yourself killed?” Noir looked up at her and started laughing in his own baritone.
“Well, I guess I don’t have a choice, do I? Especially with the way you look.”
“And how do I look, detective?”
Noir pauses, slowly rising from his puddle of water.
“I’m gonna muse on my answer for a little bit if you don’t mind.”
Charlotte chuckled, leading the detective into the police station to dry off and recover.
“Oh don’t worry, I'll be right by your side when you decide to answer.”