The Dunwich Dungeon by Byron Craft

Author:Byron Craft [Craft, Byron]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781976209529
Publisher: CreateSpace
Published: 2017-08-16T04:00:00+00:00

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Water! He found water! It was just a trickle, and it tasted like sulfur, rotten eggs, but it was satisfying. It was running down a boulder jutting from the cavern wall. It most likely was leaching from a nearby stream. Ian pressed his face against the rock and let the seepage dribble into the side of his mouth. The process was slow but ultimately thirst-quenching. He salivated, lapping up the moisture. After a half-an-hour, the swelling of his tongue subsided, and he started to feel the benefits of the rehydration.

Not obsessing about the water anymore, Ian concentrated once again on his only avenue of escape. Did the Arkham Detective get his message? Dunwich wasn’t much of a clue, but it was a start. Finding water bought him some time. Trapped within the continual darkness, he would have lost track of the days if it wasn’t for his wristwatch. Ian kept it wound and would calculate the hours spent frequently reading its dial by the campfire. He counted off the days since he first walked through the portal. Ian Woodhead wished by then that he would have had an army of OSI agents with him when he decided to enter and follow Francisco Sayter.

The image of the wooded hills, he saw as he had entered the portal, shimmered and then became momentarily lost in a mist. There was total silence as if the transition from where Ian Woodhead was and where he was going did not permit the presence of sound. It was more than a mere absence of noise; it was the holding of breath. Ian had enough foresight to consult his watch at that moment as well. The sweep hand did not move when he looked at it. Pressing its crystal against his ear told him that it was not ticking. Had all time stood still while in the mist? There was no telling how long he spent in there. Plodding ahead seemed like the only logical thing to do. Blindly walking along, he slipped and fell, plunging into daylight, slid down a damp grassy slope and landed on his backside.

It had been raining outside when Ian exited the abandon mansion in Arkham and entered the portal. It was clear and sunny on the other side. Immediately, he located Sayter’s tracks in the soft earth. The guy easily tipped the scales at three-hundred-pounds. The impressions in the ground were deep. Drawing the 9mm Luger from his shoulder holster, he checked the clip, chambered a round and began the hunt.

Following Francisco’s trail, Ian came upon a stone circle. Irregularly formed narrow sections of granite rose vertically out of the earth. They varied in height from approximately eight to ten-feet tall. A miniature Stonehenge, he thought, it couldn’t be more than one-hundred-feet in diameter. Within its center rose a stone platform, half the height of the surrounding rock pillars. Examining it closely, while standing on his tiptoes, Ian saw that a bowl shape was chiseled into the top. It held the burned-out remnants of a wood fire.

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