Graham Masterton: Revenge of the Manitou

Now Misquamacus faced Singing Rock alone. But the ancient wonder-worker turned his back on Singing Rock contemptuously for a while, and raised his arms to address the other medicine men. They spoke among themselves, their faces grim and vengeful, and then, when they had decided on what they were going to do, they turned and faced Singing Rock again.

Misquamacus and Singing Rock spoke to each other for a while. Harry tried to catch what they were saying, but they were talking quietly and with little emotion, and when he did catch an occasional word, it sounded as if it was in some Indian language. It could have been a challenge from one medicine man to another. It could have been a demand from Misquamacus that Singing Rock should leave the side of the white men and fight instead for his blood brothers. Whatever it was, Singing Rock shook his head at the end of it, and walked back through the lines of police cars without another word.

“What’s happening?” demanded Captain Myers. “What’s going on out there?”

Singing Rock knelt down by his case and put away his powders and his amulets.

Then he stood up and looked from Harry to Neil to Captain Myers.

“What you saw just now was just a skirmish,” he said. “I caught Misquamacus off-balance, and I managed to prevent him from unleashing those demons on the countryside. But, as you can see, he is scarcely tired, and I am exhausted. He has twenty other wonderworkers to back him up, and twenty other wonderworkers to call up the most terrible of gods from elder times. He says that even without Ossadagowah, he will raise Ka-tua-la-hu from the waters, and that will mean the end of us all.”

Captain Myers bristled with anger. “What is this?” he snapped. “This is a whole bunch of clouds and optical illusions and stuff like that, and you’re trying to tell me it’s dangerous? The only thing that’s dangerous around here, fellow, is that gang of terrorists out on the bridge there.”

“Terrorists?” queried Singing Rock. “You really think they’re terrorists?”

“They stole the school bus, kidnapped the kids, blew the bus up. Then they shot down thirty people. What else would you call them?”

“Captain,” said Singing Rock, “if all that is true, then where are the children’s bodies?”

“Blown up, I guess,” said the captain grumpily.

“And where are their weapons, those terrorists? Can you see any of them carrying a gun?”

“They’re concealed. Russian-made concealed weapons.”

“Concealed where?” asked Harry dryly. “In their hats?”

Captain Myers didn’t answer.

Singing Rock said, “I tried to tell you before, captain, and you just wouldn’t listen.

Those men out there are reincarnated medicine men from many centuries past. In a while, they will raise from Lake Berryessa a god known as Ka-tua-la-hu, and Ka-tua-la-hu will loll all of us.”

Captain Myers pulled at his ear. “Ka-tua-la-hu, huh?”

“That’s right. A beast in no human shape. The most terrible and feared of all the elde* gods. The spawn of the Great Old One himself.”

Captain Myers looked perplexed. He walked a little way away, and then he came back and said, “Ka-tua-la-hu?”

Singing Rock nodded. “K you look out on the bridge, you can see that they’re beginning to call him already.” The captain shaded his eyes from the floodlights, and squinted for a while at Misquamacus and his medicine men. Then he stalked off to make a report over the transmitter.

Singing Rock pressed his fingers to his eyes. Harry watched him for a while, and then said, “Is there anything I can do?”

Singing Rock shook his head. “This is turning out to be a duel. The only trouble is, there are twenty-two of them-well, twenty-one now, if that makes any difference-and only one of me. I can’t fight them very much longer.”

“What about Ka-tua-la-hu? What can we do against him?”

Singing Rock shrugged. “I really don’t know. And even if I did, I don’t think I’d have the strength to do anything about it.”

Neil said, “You can’t give up now. If you beat them, I’ll get Toby back. Please.”

Singing Rock said, “I’m doing whatever I can, Neil. I promise you. But you mustn’t hold out too much hope.” Neil said, “I’ve always had hope. Dammit, I’ve had hope when there was nothing eke. When everybody thought I was crazy.” “But, Neil-” said Harry.

“But nothing,” interrupted Neil. “The point is that white men beat the Indians once, including their medicine men, and if they did it once they can do it again. If Misquamacus was so great, how come the prairies are all farms now, and all the buffalo are dead, and the elder gods are all forgotten? How come the Indians are all living on reservations?”

Singing Rock tiredly ran his hand through his hah-. “The Indians lost because they lost faith in their magic,” he said. “It wasn’t anything to do with the power of medicine men like Misquamacus. It was just that the medicine men couldn’t do anything without the support of their nations.”

“I don’t believe it,” snapped Neil. “I believe the white man won the West because he worked harder and fought harder and because he wouldn’t ever give in.”

“Neil,” said Harry, trying to calm his down.

“I don’t believe the Indians lost faith,” repeated Neil. “I just believe that the white men were stronger, and that was all.”

There was a rumbling noise from the direction of the lake. A humid wind blew for a while, and then died away. It left a strange smell behind it, a smell of fish and cold fog. All along the shores of Lake Berryessa, the water began to foam and grow agitated. A small tidal wave even washed into Pope Creek, below the bridge, in a swill of muddy froth.

Singing Rock turned and stared at the bridge. He could see Misquamacus, illuminated by the police floodlights, swaying from side to side and singing in a piercing, high-pitched tone.

“He’s nearly finished calling the old one,” said Singing Rock. “When all twenty-one of them recite the summoning together, then the waters will open and you will see Ka-tua-la-hu. Well, I hope you won’t. Neil, Harry, you’d better get in that pickup and burn it on out of here. We’re not going to stand much of a chance now.” “John,” said Harry, “I’m not leaving you here.” “You have to,” insisted Singing Rock. “You’re no damned use to me anyway.” “John-I’m not going, and that’s final.” Singing Rock looked at Harry for a moment, and then offered his hand. “All right,” he said, softly. “I appreciate your staying. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Out on the lake, a huge, cold fog was rising in the darkness, and the waters were gurgling and seething in horrible anticipation. The earth cracked beneath their feet, and the temperature dropped lower and lower with each passing minute. Around them, police and reporters ran around in confusion. Only on the bridge itself was there any calm at all, an eye in the storm, as Misquamacus began to make slow beckoning gestures toward the lake, summoning Ka-tua-la-hu, the terrible elder god.

“I guess this is almost our last chance,” said Singing Rock. “Misquamacus is really preoccupied now. It’s going to take all of his strength to raise up Ka-tua-la-hu without the help of Ossadagowah, and all the strength of his friends as well. I’m going out there again.”

He opened up his case and took out two war axes, each one decorated with scalps and feathers. Then he gave Harry one last look, and made his way back through the barricades toward the bridge.

Harry called: “Take care, will you?” But he wasn’t sure if Singing Rock had heard him.

Now, hundreds of feet above the churning surface of Lake Berryessa, the grayish fog rose in the dim and terrifying shape of the elder god. It was so dark that Ka-tua-la-hu’s writhing form was scarcely visible, but as he strained his eyes, Harry could see something that looked like a nest of wriggling, repulsive serpents; something that disturbingly reminded him of every nightmare he’d ever had. It was the raw essence of fear and repulsion; the loathsome horror that crawled on the fringes of the night. It was the ancient lingering memory that still makes men afraid of things that creep and things that slide, even though they have consciously forgotten why. It was Ka-tua-la-hu, the spawn of the Great Old One, the most hideous god of madness and fear.