Cthulhu in Anchorage Alaska 

Sam’s Journal Part Two

Dutch Treat

I’ve never seen a god before, and I’m quite sure that the blows to the head that I suffered when the oil rig blew up and sank give me my current delusion that I saw one then.  It doesn’t matter.  True or not, it will be the stuff that helps form my nightmares for years to come.  If I should survive for years, that is.

(Administrator’s Note: Arrange down time for psychological evaluations and treatment after this is over… Either that or arrange for some padded rooms and pine boxes.)

I asked FattyB to pass my journal entry along.  I hope you receive it, along with the other special requests that he made.  Explosives will probably be useful. I miss my Hydro Shock…

Here’s what happened from where I left off on the last report.  When the day broke, and the deep ones went away, we convinced the rest of the crew to continue to hole up in their quarters.  I told them I wasn’t sure that the boat was safe.  As it turns out, it wasn’t a lie, it was an understatement.  I had actually figured that the ship would be a mess, and it was.  The captain and crew were all dead.  Give me a moment so that I can pretend to shed a tear.  There were three survivors.   One of them was the mystery man who slew one of the guards aboard ship.  The other two were survivors of the Rainbow warrior.  Apparently that ship met the same fate at the hands of the deep ones.  We searched the ship, and it became clear that there was nothing aboard that would help us escape.  We decided to see if the Rainbow warrior fared better.  To that end, we sent the two Rainbow warrior survivors to stay with the rest of the crew.  There wasn’t room on the ship, and I didn’t trust the other guy. He was a professional, and I had a pretty good idea what that profession was.

The rainbow warrior was in better shape, but it still wasn’t fixable, and we were about out of time.  I knew that the deep ones would return at nightfall, and that’s also when the helicopter with the guy who was supposed to hunt us down was due.  When Mr. Murphy takes you under his wing, he really gives you his full attention.

We boarded the Torshammer again, just as the deep ones were arriving.  It was going to be one heck of a party.  I shot a couple, and the rest of the group smacked a couple.  The Norwegian guy went down, and the helicopter arrived.  I’m pretty sure that they didn’t realize who they were, because they started shooting at the deep ones.  Whatever their allegiances were, they could certainly shoot.  Whether they knew it or not, they cleared out enough of the deep ones that we could take shelter in the only safe place that we could get to.  Dragging the Nord, we made our way to shelter.  The engine noise of the helicopter got steadily fainter.  I assume that they ran out of ammunition.  I figured that they would soon return with more ammo and gunmen, and I could definitely feel the clock ticking.  We searched the Nord, hoping that he’d have something helpful on his person.  We looked outside, and the entire place was crawling with deep ones.  The Nord had a device.  DocM was working on him, but he wasn’t waking up to ask what it was.  It looked like it was some sort of trigger mechanism.  Whether it was to blow something up, or to summon help I didn’t know at the time.  I doubt I would have made any other choice in any event.  Boom Boom Barbie pushed the button, and immediately we started hearing explosions.  Some were close, and some were distant.  That’s when we saw the god.  Dagon, the books in the Copenhagen library said, based on the description.  The rig started to sway, and things were starting to sink.  We left the room, and made it over the side, dragging the Nord with us.  I grabbed some flotsam, and passed out.  I don’t know if anyone else made it off.

The next thing that I remember is waking up in a hospital.  There was a man there, with a tattoo on his hand that caught us up on current events.  Here we found that the knowledge that the asteroid was crashing into the earth had become common knowledge.  People were looting, and heading for the hills.  The hospital that we were in was overrun, and Gerard, the bad guy and crack shot that was in the helicopter was in town and actively searching for us.  This man too, knew far too many things about us.  He knew that we were on the trail of Timothy Ekloff, and also where to find Timothy’s representative in town, as well as the fact that Timothy was looking for a book.  He handed me a card with a library-type location number on it for the book.  None of this inclined me to trust him.  I hate the fact that everyone other than us seems to know what’s going on.

Anyway, the nurse came to the room and told us that there were some gentlemen here to see us.  I figured that they were no gentlemen, but our enemies, so we scooted, and quickly.  It wasn’t hard to get lost in the hospital.  The place literally had wounded and dead stacked up in the hallways.

We made our way to Ekloff’s front man.  He was located in an abandoned tenement in the rundown section of town.  Run-down was subjective in this case.  The streets of Copenhagen were a mess.  Traffic was slow, cars were stalled, and every shop bore witness to what scared humanity does when fear and despair dominates its consciousness.  Personally, I think that was carefully planned, to hamper any organized resistance to whatever endgame the opposition has.

Anyway, he had a small store of weapons and ammo.  No explosives save for a few grenades.  We arrived, and barely had time to equip ourselves before everything went to hell.  Gerard and crew showed up.  Fortunately, we were able to make it to the roof, and had a chance to see what was coming at us.  Let’s just say that it wasn’t human.  Gerard had a tattoo on his hand.  It was the same tattoo that the mystery man in the hospital had.  I had a moment to ponder whether or not he’d sold us out, but the facts would seem to prove otherwise.  If he’d done that, he would have simply not visited us in the hospital.  After all he knew where Ekloff’s accomplice was, as well as what he was looking for.  No, they found us by other means, and let me just say that I’m getting x-rayed or something as soon as it’s physically possible to make sure that there aren’t any tracking devices imbedded in my body, even though my real fear is that they are probably using more esoteric means to find us.

Anyway, we got away from them, and found the book at the university library.  It doesn’t matter too much what we did there.  FattyB found a terminal, and sent off some information.  We didn’t know that we’d find a laptop later, so it seemed like it was the only chance we had to obtain additional supplies and information.

Outside of the library, we ran into our old friend and “mysterious benefactor” Roland Dumont.  And who do you think was with him?  It was none other than the cop that took on the Needle Man from Tokyo in the Hito case.  Things just keep getting better and better with this case.  They wanted to talk, he said.  I said I’d go into the library with them.  They wanted everyone.  Funny, but that made me somewhat suspicious.  Finally, he asked me a question about what was happening in Moscow.  Apparently my non-answer wasn’t satisfactory, because that’s when his companion started changing.  Once again he changed his form to some 13 foot tall giant ropey bat-being.  We led it on a merry chase through the streets of Copenhagen, eventually losing it, though I fear it is only a matter of time until it returns.

We discovered that the book wasn’t what we needed.  We needed the original, unedited manuscript.  The firm that printed the manuscript was located in Copenhagen.  So, that’s where we went.   Blood on the doorstep, and a dead insurance agent in the dumpster led us to believe that we might not exactly have a warm welcome.  I applauded the company’s good taste, but I simply didn’t believe that there would be a welcome mat spread out for our visit.  There were corpses, corpses and more corpses.  The owner went nuts and slaughtered his staff.  He took offense to the fact that they wanted time off because the world was ending or something like that.  He’d holed himself up in the warehouse with a high powered shotgun.  The only positive to the situation is that he wasn’t a very good shot.  He missed me once and DocM twice.

Fortunately, DocM was able to get him calmed down enough to give us the information that we needed.  He didn’t have the manuscript, but he did know that it was sent back to the estate of the guy who wrote it.  In parting, I shouted at him that Gerard and Roland were coming to take away his business.  I’d hoped that his marksmanship would improve for their arrival. FattyB found a laptop in the office. That’s how you’re getting this message.

We siphoned what gas we could out of the luxury vehicle that was parked outside the publishing company.  You know a business is in trouble when the owner has a limo with 2 gallons of gas in it.  Still we figured that if we were careful, we could make it there and back – which we did.  We found the manuscript, and since I can’t read Danish (making a note to fix that when I get back, if there is anything to get back to), I can only hope it has the proper directions to the place in Tibet that is our ultimate destination.

There isn’t that much more to report.  We laid low for the rest of the time, and went out to our boat.  I’ve included the itinerary that we’ll be following in this message to you.  I’m not too concerned about the bad guys intercepting it.  They seem to have done a bang up job of finding us when were NOT transmitting anything, as I noted earlier.  The only other thing that I should probably report is that the guy in the hospital that first day in Copenhagen… He met us on the docks of the boat (see what I mean about them knowing what and where we are going beforehand?) and told us a few things.

The first is that he used to be a member of the same group or something that Gerard is.  Yes, I asked him about the tattoo.  It was bothering me.  He gave us a one shot item that may or may not be useful in taking down an Utoruk.  And finally, he noted that Roland Dumont and his associates seem to be wannabe players.  Again, he was cryptic, and didn’t share with us what we really needed to know.  He at least had the good graces not to be smug about it.  We then boarded (are boarding—FattyB is typing this on the deck) our boat to Latvia.

That’s all I have for you.  If I get a chance, I’ll send more as the situation warrants.

Agent Samantha