R'Lyeh: The Lost Realm (The Mythos Project Book 4) by Craft Byron

Author:Craft, Byron [Craft, Byron]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2021-02-27T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

- On the Run -

Sergeant Moses Jones generated a rooster tail of sand as he ran ahead, traversing the desert expanse. Gideon and Pemba had no trouble keeping the pace. Faren and the professor pulled up the rear at a reduced rate.

Their escape from the prison was effortless—too easy. The rejuvenated Gideon Ward switched his M4A1 carbine to three-round bursts and shot from the hip. He aimed it at the iron door’s locking mechanism. The gun’s suppressor gave off a compressed air gun noise. Not one of the 5.56 mm rounds struck the metal barrier; there was no ‘ping’ of lead striking steel—no ricochet. Each slug passed through the door as if made of air. There were no bullet holes. Gideon reached out to touch it, and the door vanished.

All five of the team readied to act, weapons drawn and chambered, at the sight of the transparent door. “What is that smell?” Pemba retched.

A mass of tentacles and eyes floating in blood rested at the threshold. “Rotting flesh,” proclaimed Gideon in response to his wife’s query. Gideon covered his nose and mouth with his left hand attempting to probe the malformation with his carbine's barrel in his right.

“Be careful, Gideon!” Cautioned Professor Ironwood. “It might be alive.”

“This mess,” he contested. “I probably took it out when I shot through the door.” Gideon stooped closer and poked one of the many eyeballs with his gun barrel. The reflex response was instantaneous. One of the tentacles shot upward, encircling Gideon’s right arm.

The stone dungeon resonated with three rapid-fire gunshots. Pistol packing Pemba’s deadeye aim severed the alien appendage in two. Blue curls of smoke drifted upward from the muzzle of each Beretta. Her husband pealed the amputated limb off, dropping it to the floor. A dozen or so suckers on the creature’s arm left octo-hickey welts when he pulled free. The eye-orbed octopus from hell’s blood smeared the palm of his left hand. Disgust welled up in Gideon’s features.

“I believe,” posited the professor, “that is Uvhash , a minion of Cthulhu. Put there probably to prevent us from leaving.”

“Or, to foster the illusion, the spell, when we were all under its influence.”

“An excellent hypothesis Mrs. Ward. In the Necronomicon, Uvhash is referenced as the Blood Mad God of the Void.”

“Let’s see if he can bleed even more,” declared the ex-Afghan vet. He switched back to full-auto. The M4A1 chopped “Uvhash” into several sections with a ten-round suppressed burst of fire. Gideon kicked a few of the chunks aside, stepping over the rest. “Let’s get the hell out of here on the double! This damn thing, given a chance, might grow back together and come after us.”

“Another good hypothesis,” added the professor. “As Noah would say, ‘everybody skurt!’”

That was the beginning of their exodus. They ran down a long corridor of bones and slime. Daylight stretched ahead. Two small creatures blocked the exit. They were ugly little things—hideous dwarves with no legs. Their legless torsos ended in a slight taper. The impossible organisms had dirty white skin with tufts of fur on their elbows and the back of their hands.

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