Beneath the Sands

I

A loud clap of thunder roused Anton Delano from his reverie. He chuckled as he realized that he had dozed off while watching UFO conspiracy videos. His chihuahuas, Antonette and Cordelia, had helped themselves to the ham sandwich he’d been eating before he fell asleep. Anton patted the dogs on their sides.

“The pair of you are going to turn into round little sausages if you keep snitching Daddy’s food, yes you are!” he declared.

Anton was twenty-two years old and lived in a mobile home park on the outskirts of Roswell, New Mexico. He made a modest living selling hand-painted plaster effigies of aliens and flying saucers at UFO conventions and shops around town. He was a cadaverous fellow, six feet tall and weighing 145 pounds. He had a narrow, angular face with piercing green eyes and thin, arched black eyebrows, a beaklike nose, and thin lips. His arms and legs were long and spindly, and he had long, spider-like fingers. A pair of spiked studs protruded from either side of his lower lip. He used a wheeled walker with a little platform to help him ambulate and carry things, as he was afflicted with a form of muscular dystrophy that caused weakness in his arms and lower legs.

Anton was aware that most people felt pity for him. He once overheard Angelica Glockner, the sixty-five-year-old German woman who hosted alien-themed dinner parties at her elegant home, refer to him as “the string bean man selling alien statues.” Frau Glockner had always been friendly towards him, so he supposed that her comment held no ill intent. Nevertheless, Anton was grateful for those who saw beyond his physical anomalies and appreciated his eccentricities unconditionally, such as his best friend Edgar Schenk. He treasured his service dogs, who didn’t see him as strange or compromised at all.

Anton and Edgar became friends on the first day of kindergarten. Edgar was a burly little Creole fellow with a warm, golden-brown complexion. He had a round face with a pointed chin, a wide, flat nose, full lips, and sleepy-looking chocolate-brown eyes. He was built like a little tank with his broad shoulders, plump arms, round torso, and sturdy legs.

“Y’all look lahk a spidah,” Edgar said when he sat down with Anton in Construction Corner at playtime. “Yah got long legs lahk a spidah, long ahms lahk a spidah, and looooong spidah fingahs.”

“You look like the Thing from the Fantastic Four,” Anton responded.

“Ah be the Thing, and you be Spidahman,” Edgar suggested.

The boys’ bond was sealed as they built their Fantastic Four and Spiderman Hideout from Lincoln Logs. When it was time to color, they drew brightly hued pictures of The Thing and Spiderman fighting a group of supervillains of various shapes, sizes, and abilities. When it was time to go home, Edgar gave his picture to Anton and Anton gave his to Edgar.

The pair were inseparable from that moment forward. Aside from active imaginations and a love of superheroes, they shared negligent mothers in common. Anton did not know his biological parents. He had lived with his foster mother, Ellen Delano, for as long as he could remember. She was a research scientist who worked for a pharmaceutical corporation. She left the house early and got home late. She never berated or punished Anton, but she barely interacted with him.

Edgar’s mother, Dora Dewitt, was an exotic dancer and prostitute who struggled with paranoid schizophrenia and bipolar disorder. She was addicted to heroin. Sometimes she didn’t come home for days. Ellen gave Edgar permission to stay over when his mother was “gone for a while, feeling troubled, or had visitors,” as she tactfully put it. Edgar didn’t cause any trouble, and Anton was thrilled to have his best friend close at hand.

Anton was academically gifted while Edgar struggled in school. Anton knew that Edgar was smart even if his grades didn’t reflect it.

“Ah jest don’t get this jumble of numbers, ‘Ton,” a frustrated Edgar complained when the pair were working together on a math assignment in second grade.

“Well, what’s four plus one?” Anton asked.

“That’s easy, it’s five.”

“So, you do get it. Write five there.”

“Ah get it when you say it,” Edgar explained. “Ah ain’t got a problem when folks say it. Ah got a problem with readin’ it. Ah’m nothin’ but a big fat ole dummy like Ma’s friend Delta Dawn says.”

“Delta Dawn’s a big fat old dummy,” Anton retorted. “You ain’t dumb, Eddy, you just got trouble with reading. Everybody got things they’re good at and things they ain’t so good at. My arms and legs are noodly and I ain’t very strong. You’re strong like the Thing, and you’re good at all kinds of games. So, you and me will work as a team like always. Don’t call yourself a dummy no more.”

With Anton’s help, Edgar did well on his homework, but still performed poorly on exams. After being scolded for not studying, kept inside during breaks, and held back in the eighth grade, Edgar stopped attending school. He worked odd jobs around town to support himself. When he turned eighteen, Edgar drove to a recruiting station in Albuquerque to join the Air Force. Anton accompanied his pal, hoping to talk him out of joining the military, but Edgar was adamant.

There was a tattoo and piercing parlor three doors down from the recruiting office. The usually pragmatic Anton decided that the stars had aligned and were giving him the green light to get the tattoo he’d been casually working on for the last three years. He also decided to get his lower lip pierced on either side so he could wear pointed studs reminiscent of a vampire's teeth.

Studying Anton’s alien Spiderman design, Edgar decided to get The Thing tattooed on his right forearm. He already had both ears pierced a total of five times on each side, his right eyebrow pierced, and his lower lip pierced in the center.

Anton and Edgar also got matching tattoos on their left forearms depicting two aliens clinking a pair of beer mugs together and their names engraved on the mugs.

II

Staring out at the rain as he reminisced on bygone days, Anton wished his best friend wasn’t so far away. The Powers that Might Be had thus far honored Anton’s agnostic plea to keep Edgar out of combat. Currently, Edgar was stationed at the White Sands Missile Range and was usually bored out of his mind. To entertain himself, Edgar would text Anton during his night patrols.

The text tone pinged, and Anton grinned. He read the message and chuckled.

If 1 more mf say it suppose 2 b hot in NM I swear imma cut a bitch.

Cold there?

Not bad. 46 degree. But fukers from the coast n shit think its always like 90 cuz we in the desert. Its cloudy n theres a drizzle so their dumb ass freakin out.

Raining here.

Yea something movin in. Must of cool down quick. Theres steam rising from the Trinity monument area. Well fuck me. Looks like its snowing a lil bit.

Not here. Big booming storm n 58 degrees. Maybe they setting off nukes underground.

More like lighting there own farts. Gunna drive down that way. Text u in a few.

K I gotta piss anyway.

As Anton was making another ham sandwich to replace the one the dogs had eaten, his phone pinged. He set the plate on the seat of his wheeled walker and grabbed a can of raspberry-flavored sparkling water from the refrigerator. He made his way back to the living room and sat down on the couch. He looked at the text from Edgar.

Weird ass weather we having

How?

Wild hot wind started blowing nearly knocked me on my ass

Well you did say the brass were lighting their farts.

Theres something weird going on here man

Weird like what?

Like its lit up bright as day on the horizon. Jezus Crist that looks fucken sick with those missiles standing in front of that bright lite 😨

Ed you need to call that shit in. Don’t try to be a hero or something.

I think there testing Bro

Like what, an airplane?

Like a nuke

Serious?

Like a heart attack. That shit comin from the Trinity test site

Ed do not be a dumb fuck. Stay back from that shit. If they are testing a nuke u need to get inside the museum or something otherwise u gonna get radiation poisoning. U sure it’s a nuke?

Well I don’t know what else it would be liting up the sky like that all bright like the sun come down to earth. Holy fuck this is getting weirder 😱

Weirder like how??

Fukkers dancing around in the desert near the Trinity monument. Not even kidding. Theres a glow over the desert its more subtle now but I think I see some metal fragments I think they set something off.

Wait what? Why TF would they be dancing around if they set off a nuke? Its gotta be some other thing maybe a new kind of ground attack they’re testing.

Ant I gotta ask you something. How much you actually believe in that UFO stuff?

Well I like to believe its real but mostly I guess I believe anything is possible. Why u asking?

Cause I think theres some UFO shit going on here.

You fuckin with me?

No man I am not even joking. I like to pull your chain sometime but I am not joking about this shit. I’m gonna prove it to you.

Ed was gone for several minutes and Anton began to worry. His friend’s texts normally consisted of telling Anton how bored he was and asking his friend to tell him a story. Edgar was deeply skeptical about the existence of UFOs, but although he occasionally engaged in good-natured ribbing, he was always strongly supportive of Anton’s thoughts.

The next texts that Anton received consisted of a dozen still images and a two-minute long video. There was a bright light glowing on the horizon behind the Trinity monument, and a group of perhaps three dozen individuals swaying and raising their arms in a ritualistic fashion.

“What the hell?” Anton wondered aloud.

III

It was nearly twenty minutes later before Edgar texted again.

Just got back 2 base. Theres no one here. Gonna check something out.

Another twenty minutes passed, and Anton began receiving image after image of maps, diagrams, text, and photos.

Just in case I don’t make it somebody gotta know. This alien shit is real but it ain’t like no little green men or them dudes with the black bug eyes. There something under the desert. The Indians had it trapped w a spell.

If not for the plethora of documents that he had downloaded from the cloud, Anton would have figured that Edgar was giving Anton a story idea.

Its called Ragorthua you will find it in the info I sent u. Radiation makes it strong. These fukers woke it up. I gotta put it back in the earth.

Ed listen to me please. U gotta get out of there. They are either testing something or there was an accident. If u go back out there u gonna get sick and maybe die. Tell your commanding officer that your sick and puking all over or u shit yourself or something.

What if they think I got radiation sickness so they keep me here cuz they don’t want the truth 2 get out?

 OK tell em u got a bad pain in you right side so they think its appendicitis and send u to the hospital. Don’t let on that u saw anything. Say u been hanging out in the shitter @ the museum the hole time cause u were hoping this pain would go away but its just getting worse.

K I can try but I don’t even know who 2 talk 2 right now cuz nobody here. I think there all doing the robot w that radiation monster from the desert. Hang on someone here. Oh shit this guy look like he got a stick up his ass. I think I gonna shit my pants 4 reel if he lite into me. He look like if that dude from Green Mile had a kid w Samuel L Jackson plus LL Cool J n Vin Diesel.

Fuck. Well good luck.

Twenty minutes went by before Anton received a dark, blurry photo of a tall, impressive black man wearing the uniform of an Air Force officer. He received a series of strange texts spaced out over the next twenty minutes.

Altar hype not

The royal pant

Hot layer pant

Hya lp rotten

Heal not party

An hotel party

The final message stated:

Lt. Oran Peyath says I must follow him to the moon. Death is but a dream. Elysian Geiger counter rises. Join me where he leads. I am the last.

IV

Twenty minutes went by, then a half-hour. Anton tried to text Edgar to no avail. He was at a loss to decipher the word salad from his friend. As he studied the texts typed as a list on his computer, one of the odd phrases rang a bell. Anton looked up the phrase “the royal pant” and was reminded that The Royal Pant was an obscure New Orleans jazz musician who had appeared as a guest on the ill-fated metal band God’s Lost Children’s 1987 album, “Unspeakable.”

A set of promotional pictures revealed The Royal Pant to be a tall, powerful black man with chiseled features. He was sporting a snappy red zoot suit and even when he smiled, his eyes indicated that he was not someone to be fucked with. Anton looked again at Edgar’s text.

He look like if that dude from Green Mile had a kid w Samuel L Jackson plus LL Cool J n Vin Diesel.

“Come on, that’s nothing but a coincidence,” the shaken young man chided himself. “This Royal Pant guy was probably 40 years old when this album was made. He qualifies for a senior discount by now, if he’s even still alive. No way he still looks like a statue of some kind of Nubian god.”

Anton looked at the other nonsense phrases and realized they all had the same letters. He rearranged the letters dozens of times. Two of the combinations he discovered hit home for him.

Northplateya was the name of the research laboratory that Anton’s foster mother worked for.

Nyarlathotep was a name that cropped up on conspiracy theory and UFO websites. Anton’s hands were shaking as he navigated to one of the more reputable conspiracy theory sites. He admonished himself that he was probably wasting time, but he had to do something to keep himself from panicking.

The site revealed that Nyarlathotep was the subject of several works by an early twentieth-century American writer named Howard Phillips Lovecraft. During the 1920s and 1930s, Lovecraft had written a series of stories about a group of alien monstrosities known as the Outer Gods. These beings were worshiped by various cults throughout human history. Their worshipers were attempting to reawaken them and usher in the destruction of the Cosmos as it currently existed.

The most intelligent and charismatic of these beings was Nyarlathotep, who Lovecraft’s story of the same name described as being the soul of the Outer Gods. While he could take on any form he chose, Nyarlathotep was usually depicted as a tall, powerfully built bald black man. Lovecraft’s tale revealed that “Nyarlathotep came out of Egypt. Who he was, none could tell, but he was of the old native blood and looked like a Pharaoh.”

Anton put his hand over his eyes and massaged his forehead. He needed to focus his mind elsewhere before he drove himself mad. Anything could make sense if it was spun the right way. The conspiracy theorists were simply unhappy people desperate for an explanation of all the awful things going on in the world. Religious rhetoric didn’t jibe for them, so they had latched onto the writings of a science fiction author who died in 1937.

V

The sun had broken through the clouds and was coming through the blinds. Anton got up to feed his dogs, take his medications, and eat breakfast. When he returned to his computer, an alert tone informed him that there was breaking news. He navigated to the CNN website. The news anchor revealed that there had been an accident at the White Sands Air Force base and the area was being evacuated due to high radiation levels.

Anton’s coffee cup slipped from his fingers and crashed to the floor. A strangled scream erupted from his mouth as he beheld Edgar, his face blank and his eyes glassy, standing beside an officer who looked like a flawless statue sculpted from black marble.  

Acknowledgements

Nyarlathotep is the creation of H.P. Lovecraft and initially appears in the 1920 story of the same name.

Ragorthua is the creation of David Conyers, appearing in Chaosium’s Call of Cthulhu RPG scenario, The Witch Cycle Part 2: A Handful of Dust copyright 1994 and 2003 Chaosium

Snake’s Venom blog

http://thrythlind.blogspot.com/2017/11/gorgon-archer-call-of-cthulhu-6th.html

Character Appearance Generator

https://www.rangen.co.uk/chars/appgen.php

Anagram Generator

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The fictional band God’s Lost Children appear in the Call of Cthulhu scenario “The Evil Stars” from the Cthulhu Now RPG volume copyright Chaosium 1987.