The Engines of Sacrifice by James Chambers

Author:James Chambers
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: james chambers, cthulhu mythos, lovecraftian fiction, elder gods, cthulhu, hp lovecraft, drp digital, weird fiction, dark regions digital
Publisher: Dark Regions Press

The growl of the protestors died out; their anger, which had seemed so potent face-to-face, did not carry even a few blocks away. Lenox did not let the realization distract him. He needed to steady his hope and keep looking forward. His meeting today was the last leg of a three-week journey he had begun after reading the scraps from Calloway’s file. He had been to Dover and Trenton, back to Arkham, and down to D.C., but all the leads Calloway had given him had burned out. Avery Richter was the last one left. The astrophysicist had been involved with Calloway’s last assignment and with subject K. Lenox crossed 14th Street, walked two more blocks downtown, and then turned west onto 12th Street, reaching Richter’s building only a few minutes late. He pressed the buzzer; static crackled in reply.

“Who’s there?” a voice said.

“Doctor Calvin Lenox. We have an appointment.”

The door emitted a shrill hum, and Lenox shoved it open before the sound died. He took the elevator to the twentieth floor, and there a gray-haired man waited, his head poking out the open door of his apartment, a black eye patch over his left eye. He waved Lenox inside then shut the door behind him.

“Professor Richter?” Lenox said.

The man nodded.

“Thank you for seeing me,” Lenox said.

“What happened to you?” Richter frowned at Lenox. “Your cheek’s bleeding. You’re disheveled.”

“I got caught up in a no-nukes demonstration,” Lenox said. “One of the protestors hit me.”

Richter stared at Lenox for several seconds then said, “Wait here.” He went away and came back with ice wrapped in a paper towel. “Wipe yourself off and hold this against your face.”

“Thanks.” The cold, wet paper soothed Lenox’s skin.

“They’re following you,” Richter said. “Did you know that? Your colleagues, I mean.”

“Yes,” Lenox said, surprised. “They’ve pretty much left me alone, so I gave up trying to lose them. How did you know?”

“I had someone following you too,” Richter said. “I don’t know you, never heard of you before three weeks ago, when you called me up talking about things you shouldn’t know anything about—you think I didn’t check you out before letting you into my home?”

“I guess not.”

“Not that it matters. Nothing does anymore. Nothing ever did,” Richter said. “You know that much, at least, right? You must know it, or you wouldn’t be here.”

“I…,” Lenox said. “I don’t know what I know.”

Richter laughed, crackling, sober. “You’re not alone. Come in. I’ll get us a drink.”

He led Lenox into a living room with a view of the East River. A smoky haze hung over the distant water. The television was on with the sound off, giving live coverage of the news out of Chernobyl. The image flashed to a map of Central Asia and Eastern Europe on which a red mass had been superimposed to indicate the creep of radiation. The Soviets had tried to cover up the Chernobyl incident for two days, but they could not hide the radioactive cloud spreading through the atmosphere. It had

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