Cthulhurotica (16 page)

I took a step forward. “It’s too quiet. It’s not right.”

He stopped me talking with his mouth, his tongue clever and warm again. He pulled me down until we stood thigh-deep in water, and then he put himself hard against me. All that existed was the taste of him, the smell of his breath, the feeling of his skin, him hard against my leg – and god, oh god help me, he was so warm on the inside.

I wanted to crawl in there and die warm. Not cold in this water.

I sat on the stairs, up to my chest in the water, and he sat in my lap facing me. For a long time like that, with his cock grinding into my belly and mine pushing at the split of his hard ass through wet clothes, just breathing through his mouth. He rocked his hips to rub us off, he came down into my mouth like he was starving, he dug his nails into my shoulders and sides. If it hurt, if I groaned, he did it harder, everything harder.

Just when I thought I might die, he pulled away, slipped his hand into my pants, and grabbed my cock. I tried to gasp, but he wouldn’t let up his kissing. His tongue went liquid, turned into slick vines, and slipped down my throat.

Now I dug my nails in, clawing at him hard. But not because I wanted him to stop. I jerked into his hand, over and over, fuck, I still remember how it felt like dying. Like little pieces of him drilling down my throat, into my lungs, taking root, spreading, choking. The waves of heat were too close together, it couldn’t last, I was going to die and love it -

He groaned into me, and all the little strings he’d planted in me quivered – fucking
quivered
.

It’s like this a million times over, when we take you.

But it wasn’t really a million. It was a number that didn’t exist, bigger than the black underground ocean, bigger than whatever waited inside it.

When you’re ready, come back. Come with me.

I woke up with my pants half-off, gasping for air.

-Vic

10.

He didn’t come last night. The music, the black ocean, the freaky glow, his eyes, fuck, there’s nothing else. I know I’ll go tonight, and I know I’ll follow him all the way.

It’s almost dark, and there’s another storm coming. If anyone reads this, just tell Jason’s mother I’m sorry. Tell her I got what I deserved.

-Victor Fallon

April

2010

Love From the Black Lagoon
by Galen Dara

Andrew Scearce
THE LAKE AT ROOPKUND

“What do you mean I can’t come with you?”

“Jas, don’t be upset. Heather said she wanted to meet alone. What can I do?” Isha nervously brushed a few dark strands of hair out of her eyes.

I spotted a stray thread on the
bajot
and brushed it off into my hand. “It’s because of what you two did in college, isn’t it?” I opened the cupboard and carefully let the thread fall into the trash.

“Absolutely not,” Isha said, tucking her sewing kit into a sequined pouch. “Like I said, it only happened once. It was stupid. God, I should have never told you.”

I looked past my wife to the photograph of Heather and Isha on the wall. They were wearing matching Misk-U sweatshirts–cut to reveal their midriffs; Heather had her arm around the subtle curve of Isha’s waist, her fingers bent, pressing into Isha’s fair, but darker skin. “Sure,” I growled.

“Whatever. You’re in my light.”

I grumbled and stepped aside.

Isha held her mother’s sari to the light and squinted.

I leaned in. “She’ll never know,” I said, tracing my finger over the microscopic irregularity in the weave.

“Of course she will. Mother never misses anything. But it’s the best I can do,” Isha said. She carefully folded the sari and laid it in the box with both hands.

“Just remind me not to be here when she picks it up.”

Isha cringed. “Oh, God, I’m sorry Jaswinder.”

“Sorry about what?”

“Mother is coming over at six. I completely forgot to tell you.”

“You’re kidding me, right? At the exact time that you’re meeting Heather? You planned it that way, didn’t you?”

“Enough of this,” Isha snapped.

I shoved my hands into my pockets and stared out the window. “You know how your mother pesters me about having grandchildren. Maybe I’ll just tell her the truth this time.”

Isha slammed her fist on the table. “You will do nothing of the sort, Jaswinder! I will not be the shame of this family!”

I closed my eyes and leaned my forehead against the glass. “Fine,” I breathed.

****

After Isha left I picked up the college photograph and stared at it. They were in their dorm room, a pair of unmade bunk beds and a mirror slightly out of focus behind them. As I studied it I noticed something that I hadn’t seen before. Reflected in the mirror, on a dresser, next to the camera that had taken the photo, was a device that looked remarkably like a vibrator.

A chill ran up my spine.

I dumped the sari in the hallway then ran out and hailed a cab. I told the driver to take me to Kathgodam station, and offered him double the fare if he didn’t pick up anyone else.

We got there in ten minutes.

There were a few people outside the station, including a couple of boys who were talking about a dead jackdaw they’d seen on the tracks–but no sign of Isha. I checked the electronic schedule: the train from Moradabad was scheduled to arrive at 18:05. That left me with thirty minutes to kill, so I crossed the street to the bar and took a seat by the window.

Isha arrived a few minutes later in a taxi full of people. After the car drove off, she turned her head a few times, looking around, then took a seat on the platform.

At 18:09 the train rolled in. The conductor stepped off and put a wooden box in front of the door, calling for the passengers to exit. An old woman, accompanied by a much younger man–probably her son–stepped off first. A pair of hikers with massive backpacks followed, stopping to point at the mountains and stretch their arms.

A few moments later Heather stepped off the train. She wore a tight white tank top and a pleated red skirt with matching heels. Her hair was shorter than it was in the picture, cut just below her chin, and she’d dyed it black with blond highlights. The old woman snarled at Heather as she walked by, then looked to her son for agreement. He nodded his head disapprovingly, but glanced at her bare legs a few more times just to make sure he was thoroughly disappointed.

Heather didn’t seem to notice. When she saw Isha, she squealed, dropping her suitcase, and threw her arms around her neck. Their muffled, excited voices were audible even inside the bar. Heather pulled away, looking Isha up and down, then retrieved her bag. Then the two of them made their way across the street to a little outdoor restaurant and sat down.

I threw a couple of bills on the table and went outside, concealing myself behind a row of street vendors next to the station. The girls ordered drinks and talked for a few minutes until the waiter returned with two glasses of white wine. After he was gone Heather placed her suitcase on an empty chair, unzipped it, and lifted the lid just enough to let Isha peek inside. Her eyes widened. My wife touched Heather’s hand briefly and smiled.

I clenched my teeth, picturing her college photograph in my head.

I bolted across the street.

When Isha saw me her mouth dropped open. But before she could react, I’d grabbed the lid of the suitcase and thrown it open.

I gasped in horror at the thing inside.

“What the hell?!” Heather screamed.

“Jaswinder! What are you doing here?!”

Heather immediately slammed the lid.

I stood there, breathless, as Heather frantically zipped up the suitcase.

“I’m so sorry,” Isha told her. “This is my husband.” She turned to me. “Jaswinder, what in the world do you think you’re doing?”

“What is that horrible thing?”

“You are out of line,” my wife hissed.

“It’s okay,” Heather said, exhaling a deep breath. She set her suitcase on the ground. “Jaswinder, why don’t you have a seat?”

Isha looked at her, a confused scowl smeared across her face.

“It’s fine, Isha. Please, Jaswinder.” She gestured toward the chair.

A few patrons at the restaurant were staring. I sat down.

“Good,” said Heather. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Jaswinder,” she added, touching my hand.

“What
was
that?” I said.

Heather looked at Isha and smiled. “That is my gift to you and Isha.”

“That thing? I don’t want it!”

Heather laughed. “Listen, Jas… Isha has told me about your trouble conceiving.”

I scowled at my wife.

“What you saw in my suitcase is nothing to be afraid of. It’s a fertility idol. I’m here to help you and your wife have a child.”

I looked at Isha. “Is she serious? Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Heather leaned in and answered for her. “I wanted to discuss it with your wife first. I didn’t mean any harm.”

I frowned. “What, so we have to put that thing in our house?”

“No. The ritual has to be performed outside. Once we’re done you’ll never have to see it again.”

“Good. It’s horrible.” I folded my arms across my chest and stared at the table.

Isha touched my hand. “Heather would like to perform the ritual tonight. She’s hired a helicopter to take us to the site.”

“What site?”

Heather smiled. “Roopkund.”

I stared at her in disbelief. “Skeleton Lake?”

“You know the story?” Heather asked excitedly. “Not just the recent history, but the myth behind it?”

“Everyone knows that old story,” I said. I paused for a sip of my wife’s wine. Heather stared at me expectantly. I rolled my eyes and continued. “Roopkund was a gift from Shiva to his wife, the goddess Nanda Devi. It was her favorite possession. The legend says that during a pilgrimage in the 16
^th
century, Nanda’s sister, Rani Balpa, gave birth on the shore of the lake. Nanda considered this an act of desecration and retaliated by summoning a hailstorm so large that it smashed the heads of everyone present.”

“Over six hundred people,” Heather said.

“Something like that.”

“And the bodies weren’t found until a park ranger stumbled across them in 1942. A lake completely filled with bones. Pretty creepy.”

I glanced at my wife. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Isha nodded. “If Heather says that’s the place, then that’s where I’ll go.”

I glanced at the two of them, drumming my fingers on the table. “I’m coming with you.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Heather replied, finishing her wine. “We leave in two hours.”

****

I had just enough time to run back to the apartment and gather a few things before the helicopter left. I brought a heavy coat, boots, camping supplies, and a bag of dried fruit. Cooking wasn’t my specialty, and I couldn’t waste any more time than necessary. An hour later I met the women at the airfield. Just as Heather had said, the helicopter was waiting, rotors twisting languidly.

I stared out the window and watched as we drifted over the foothills and slowly climbed into the mountains. It wasn’t long before the great peaks of Thrishul appeared on the horizon. The pilot banked and dipped into the misty valley below, descending through the haze until Roopkund, like a frozen, crystalline eye, blinked into existence.

Heather touched me on the leg. “This is it,” she said.

The helicopter landed on a plateau about a hundred meters from the lake. We unloaded our gear and said goodbye to the pilot, then headed down to the shore.

Roopkund was small, frozen, and littered with human bones. They were everywhere. Skulls, arms, legs, ribs–it looked like a slaughter. Some had been sorted or assembled into full skeletons by tourists.

We picked a relatively flat spot on the south shore of the lake and made camp. We worked as the sun set behind Thrishul, casting a long three-pointed shadow over the valley.

After we’d finished the three of us crawled inside and zipped the flap.

“This will help with the cold,” Heather said, grabbing a bottle of whiskey from her suitcase.

“Is this part of the ritual?” I joked, taking a pull from the bottle.

“Couldn’t hurt,” Isha said.

“So when do we start?”

“We’ve got a few hours. We can’t start until midnight, so we might as well get cozy.”

Heather unzipped her coat and stretched her arms. “Bottle please.”

Isha passed the whiskey to her and she took a long drink.

“Careful!” Isha laughed. “We’re not in college anymore!”

“Oh God,” Heather grinned. “This girl could drink in college, Jas. You have no idea.”

I rolled my eyes and took a sip from the bottle. “I’ve heard the stories.”

Heather shook her head. “Oh I don’t think you’ve heard them all.”

“I may know more than you think.”