Graham Masterton: Revenge of the Manitou

“Some Indians called him a long unpronounceable name which means The-Being-Without-Shape of-the-Estuaries. But I guess the most widespread name was Ka-tua-la-hu. It’s hard to tell you what it means exactly, just like those hieroglyphs are hard to translate. The Sioux say it means ‘he who lurks in the deepest lakes.’

Harry said, “I think I’m going to go for some fresh air. This is like holding a seminar in a subway train.”

Neil chimed in, ‘I’ll join you.”

Singing Rock held out his hand to Professor Thoren. “I must leave, too. We have a crisis on our hands tonight. But please understand how much you have helped us.

When this is finished, we will return, if that is possible, and I will tell you everything I know of Ka-tua-la-hu. You deserve to know.”

Professor Thoren gave a lopsided smile. “From what you say about him, I don’t know whether I do.”

They shook hands, and then Singing Rock turned and made his way back along the lighted tunnel into the darkness of the Petrified Forest.

“Well?” said Harry, as he emerged.

“It’s much worse than I thought,” said Singing Rock. “Ka-tua-la-hu was always the most grotesque and bloodthirsty of the elder gods. He was so feared that his name outlived the religion itself, and you can still hear some of the coastal Indians call someone they fear ‘a ka-tua.’”

Neil said, “I don’t really understand. You mean that Misquamacus is going to raise this god?”

Singing Rock nodded. “That was the second reason he chose this region for the day of the dark stars, apart from the strength he could draw from the old Wappo victory over the white settlers. Lake Berryessa is deep and wide, and an ideal place to call for a manifestation of Ka-tua-la-hu. You see, when Misquamacus banished him under the waters, he banished him under all waters, not in any particular spot, so he can raise him from any lake or reservoir or estuary or whatever he wants. It just has to be a big enough stretch of water to re-create the greatest and most horrible demon that ever was.”

Harry sniffed. There was something in these dark woods to which he was allergic.

He said, “What about Nashuna and Osso-bucco and all the rest of the demons?”

Singing Rock told him, “Demons and gods have to be summoned according to a hierarchy. First they summoned Sak, the guardian of the gateway, and with Sak’s help they’re going to summon the lesser demons. Then they’re going to call Ossadagowah. For any kind of revenge, I would have thought Ossadagowah would have been quite terrible enough. But Misquamacus is obviously hell-bent on using Ossadagowah to call on Ka-tua-la-hu, and that’s going to be devastation time.”

Neil said, “We’d better get back there, huh? Back to the bus? I know this stuff is really important, and all that, but Toby-”

Harry put his arm around Neil’s shoulders. “We’re going to do the best we can, Neil, and a little bit more besides.”

They made their way down the gloomy path of the Petrified Forest, down a flight of rough, log steps, until they reached the turnstile and the gift shop again. The girl was waiting for them anxiously, and she was obviously relieved that they weren’t trying to bust their way out with a petrified tree under their arms.

“Did you see the professor?” she asked.

“Sure,” said Harry. “Everything’s fine.”

“Did you enjoy the forest?” she asked.

Harry shook his head. “No. I was petrified.”

They drove cautiously back along the highway to Lake Berryessa, but they needn’t have worried about being intercepted by the Highway Patrol. The bridge across Pope Creek and its immediate surroundings were in chaos. Floodlights now illuminated the bridge from all sides, and there were police cars and press cars and armored half-tracks from the National Guard parked all over the road. Helicopters clattered in and out, bringing television teams and police officials, and there was a constant echoing blare of amplified comments from a loudspeaker system.

The night was still warm, but it was unusually dark already, and the air still trembled with the vibrations of a coming electric storm. Along the hills on the opposite shore of Lake Berryessa, across the deep, troubled waters, lightning forked like the fangs of a poisonous snake.

A cop held his hand up as Harry and Neil and Singing Rock slowly approached the bridge area in their pickup.

“I’m a parent of one of the children,” said Neil, and produced his driver’s license again.

“Okay, okay,” said the cop. “Just pull over there and keep your head down. We’ll let you know if anything changes.”

Neil parked, and they climbed out of the truck. This time, Singing Rock took his suitcase with him, and they walked along by the side of the road until they reached the edge of the creek. There they stood against the railr ings and tried to see what had happened since the Highway Patrol had sent them away.

The school bus was still parked across the middle of the bridge, but now, even brighter than the arc lamps from either side of the creek, it was shimmering with a white, unearthly light of its own, and producing a constant high-pitched whine that set Harry’s teeth on edge.

Neil said, “What’s happening?”

Singing Rock set down his suitcase. “They are almost finished preparing the gateway. As soon as the moon goddess appears, they will emerge in their real form.”

“What’s the time?” asked Harry. “I think my watch died of claustrophobia in that tunnel.”

“There’s about a half-hour to go,” said Neil.

Singing Rock opened his case and took out a small spherical cage made of curved bones bound together with human hair. He set it carefully on top of one of the uprights of the fence, and then hung strings of beads and ribbons around it.

“Is it rude to ask what that is?” said Neil.

“Not at all,” smiled Singing Rock. “It’s a caged spirit that’s particularly sensitive to the presence of other spirits. Rather like a canary that miners take down the mine shaft to detect the presence of methane. When that cage starts rattling, we’ll know that the first demons are drawing near to the bridge.”

Neil peered at the cage worriedly. “A spirit? What kind of a spirit? A human spirit?”

Singing Rock laughed. “No/ It’s the spirit of a wolf. I borrowed it from one of the elders.”

Harry said, “What about a medicine circle? Can you do something to hold those medicine men inside that bus? The way you did the first time Misquamacus appeared?”

“I don’t think there’s a chance,” said Singing Rock. “Apart from the fact that it’s physically difficult to get out there and draw one, your policemen will try to stop me, and so will Misquamacus. I think I prefer to conserve my energy for the battle itself.”

There were now only ten minutes to moonrise. A little way away, just beyond a cluster of NBC television reporters and cameramen, Captain Myers of the Highway Patrol had set up a radio link post. He had obviously been outranked by the arrival of two police inspectors and a colonel from the National Guard, but he was tenaciously keeping in touch with the siege, and sending his men here and there to bring him news of what the military and the FBI were doing.

In the tense, warm night, under the unnatural brilliance of the floodlights, a burble of military voices came over the radio as the National Guardsmen were deployed along the hills overlooking the bridge, punctuated with occasional terse comments about the state of the school bus.

“She’s still glowing. No brighter now. But still glowing.”

“I don’t know why the goddamn gas tank doesn’t blow, the way that’s shining.”

“It doesn’t blow because it’s cold out there. Do you know how cold it is out there?