Weird Shadows Over Innsmouth

“You don’t blink.”

“No.”

Charlie stuck the torch under his chin, demon-masking his features. He tried to snarl like his million-year-old carved portrait.

“But I’m the Man, now. The Man of the Mountain.”

“I don’t dispute that.”

“The Old Lady has told me how it works,” said Charlie, pointing to his head. “You think I don’t get it, but I do. We’ve been stashing ordinance. The kraut’s a demolition expert. He’ll see where to place the charges. Bring this place down and let the waters out. I know that’s not enough. This is an imaginary mountain as much as it is a physical one. That’s why they’ve been filming crappy Westerns all over it for so long. This is a place of stories. And it has to be opened in the mind, has to be cracked on another plane. I’ve been working on the rituals. My album, that’s one. And the blood sacrifices, the offerings of the pigs.”

“I can’t wait to off my first pig,” said Ouisch, cutely wrinkling her nose.

“I’m going to be so freakin’ famous.”

“Famous ain’t all that,” put in Junior. “You think bein’ famous will make things work out right, but it doesn’t at all. Screws you up more, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t, Mummy Man,” spat Charlie. “You had your shot, dragged your leg through the tombs...”

Squeaky began to sing, softly.

“We shall over-whelm, we shall over-whe-e-elm, we shall overwhelm some day-ay-ay...”

Charlie laughed.

“It’s the end of their world. No more goddamn’ movies. You know how much I hate the movies? The lies in the movies. Now, I get to wipe Hollywood off the map. Hell, I get to wipe the map off the map. I’ll burn those old Spanish charts when we get back to the Ranch. No more call for them.”

Constant was the only one paying attention to Leech. Smart boy.

“It’ll be so simple,” said Charlie. “So pure. All the pigs get offed. Me and Chocko do the last dance. I defeat the clowns, lay them down forever. Then we start all over. Get it right this time.”

“Simple,” said Leech. “Yes, that’s the word.”

“This happened before, right? With the Old Lady’s people. The menfish. Then we came along, the menmen, and fouled it up again, played exactly the same tune. Not this time. This time, there’s the Gospel According to Charlie.”

“Hooray and Hallelujah,” sang Ouisch, “you got it comin’ to ya...”

The drip of water echoed enormously, like the ticking of a great clock.

“I do believe our interests part the ways here,” said Leech. “You yearn for simplicity, like these children. You hate the movies, the storybooks, but you want cartoons, you want a big finish and a new episode next week. Wipe it all away and get back to the garden. It’s easy because you don’t have to think about it.”

He hadn’t lost Charlie, but he was scaring the man. Good.

“I like complexity,” said Leech, relishing the echo. “I love it. There are so many more opportunities, so many more arrangements to be made. What I want is a rolling apocalypse, a transformation, a thousand victories a day, a spreading of interests, a permanent revolution. My natural habitat is civilisation. Your ultimate deluge might be amusing for a moment, but it’d pass. Even you’d get bored with children sitting around adoring you.”

“You think?”

“I know, Charles.”

Charlie looked at the faces of Ouisch and Squeaky, American girls, unquestioningly loyal, endlessly tiresome.

“No, Mr. Fish,” he said, indicating the mural. “This is what I want. This is what I want to do.”

“I brought you here. I showed you this.”

“I know. You’re part of the story too, aren’t you? If the Mummy Man is the One Who Will Open the Earth, you’re the Mysterious Guide.”

“I’m not so mysterious.”

“You’re a part of this, you don’t have a choice.”

Charlie was excited but wheedling, persuasive but panicky. Having seen his preferred future, he was worried about losing it. Whenever the torch was away from the mural, he itched lest it should change in the dark.

“I promise you this, Charles, you will be famous.”

Charlie thumped his chest. “Damn right. Good goddamn right!”

“But you might want to give this up. Write off this scripted Armageddon as just another fish story. You know, the one that got away. It was this big. I have other plans for the end of this century. And beyond. Have you ever noticed how it’s only Gods who keep threatening to end the world? Father issues, if you ask me. Others, those of my party, promise things will continue as they are. Everyone gets what they deserve. You ain’t seen nothin’ yet because what you give is what you get.”

Charlie shook his head. “I’m not there.”

Squeaky and Ouisch were searching the mural, trying to find themselves in the crowded picture.

Charlie’s eyes shone, ferocious.

“Our deal was to bring you here,” said Leech, “to this sea. To this place of revelation. Our business is concluded. The service you requested has been done.”

Junior raised a modest flipper, acknowledging his part.

“Yeah,” said Charlie, distracted, flicking fingers at Junior, “muchas grassy-asses.”