The Survivor Pt 1

The people of Baltimore noticed a sudden burgeoning of cloud cover, but no one thought anything of it. They assumed it was just another summer storm, never considering that it was a prelude to destruction. In the belly of the harbor, the corpse of Leviathan stirred as the Necronomicon neared wielded by a descendent of Abdul Alhazred, the Mad Arab who authored the tome of destruction. There was intent in his veins, flowing like blood. The stage was set and the actors took their positions as a storm rolled in.

Aswad Husam climbed the stairs of the World Trade Center Institute, heading for the roof, with a book in one hand and a 9 mm pistol in the other. He had a back pack on with all the supplies that he would need for the ceremony. Here he would raise Leviathan, then to an island in the Pacific where, with Leviathans help, he could raise the temple of Cthulhu and resurrect the rest of the pantheon of Elder Gods. It would be the dawning of a new age for humanity.

Even though he knew the place was empty, he kept looking over his shoulder for someone who was going to stop him. It was silly, the building was closed and the dead guard in the lobby downstairs was proof of that.

He finally crested the 27th floor and realized that it wasn’t a roof but an observation deck with floor to ceiling windows on all sides. Perfect, he’d been worried about the wind messing up his ceremony; blowing out candles, moving papers, etc, but now he didn’t have to worry about that. He rifled through his pack and pulled out a marker. He cracked open the Necronomicon he’d been carrying and started drawing the markings he found on the windows and floor. It would take several hours for him to finish everything he needed to do to perform the ceremony.

Several hours later, and sweating like a crack addict, Husam had finished writing the symbols everywhere and stood back to admire his work. The symbols were well drawn and almost seemed to glow in the diffused light radiating up from the street where the lamps burned bright and headlights glared into the distance as twilight settled in. He felt pleased with his progress. He dug into his bag and pulled out dozens of candles and began to set them in strategic places around the room, precisely where the Necrnomicon told him to place them.

The hour was fast approaching.


Peter Collier was enjoying his evening out with his date. The National Aquarium had been a good choice. He would have to remember to thank Ted for the idea. Charlene was ogling the frog exhibit with almost child-like wonder at the myriad species that inhabited the earth. They’d roamed the aquarium arm in arm giggling like a couple of middle schoolers.

Things had been on the ups since dinner when they’d gotten in a water fight. All the kids around them wanted to join in the fun and all the adults just gave them stern looks like they were out of control children who needed to be straightened out. The inner harbor was wonderful for families and dates alike. So they walked along the pier air drying for a bit until they came upon the aquarium (where he had been steering them all evening as much for him as for her) and went inside to enjoy the exhibits.

She loved it. She had lived in White Marsh all of her life but somehow had never made it to the aquarium. It was like being kids again, they romped around the aquarium talking loudly and laughing uncontrollably at themselves, each other, and most often, the animals.

They finally made it to the rainforest display on the top floor, where Charlene was ogling the frogs. Peter slid an arm around her waist and pulled her gently to continue as he said quietly with a tight grin, “Come on now, you don’t like it when guys ogle you so don’t do it to the frogs.”

She turned with a grin, put her forehead to his and said softly, “Well, I don’t mind you ogling me.”

Peter put on a look of feigned shock and said, “Why, Miss Hastings, that sounds quite suggestive.”

She put on a sly look and pulled away, “Well, Mr Collier, maybe that’s because I’m suggesting.” She walked away wriggling her butt and leaving him more than a little aroused.

Peter picked up the pace. They walked hand in hand through the display to the uppermost platform where you could look out over the harbor. Peter’s blood went cold. He couldn’t explain why but he just felt this unbridled dread pass through him.

He looked out onto the harbor and saw the sky, black as sin, and the water was violent and choppy and black as ink. If it weren’t for the buildings and lights, you’d never know where one ended and the other began. The rain had started and was pattering lightly on the windows. He could feel the same melancholy emanating from Charlene and squeezed her hand.

Lightning split the sky in two illuminating a shadow under the water. It was brief and only there for a second but Peter swore he saw it.


In the tower Husam started humming an old Arabic lullaby that his mother used to sing to him. He continued to place the candles delicately. It was almost time.


Peter was deep in the grips of this feeling of dread. Some children began to cry unexplainably and next to Peter and Charlene, on the platform, a man began to shake and then threw up.

Peter began to back up pulling Charlene by the hand with him, except that Charlene was pulling away from him. Finally she broke free with a start and stumbled drunkenly over to a corner of the platform where she crouched; cradling her head with her arms, and sobbed. Peter walked over and placed a hand on her shoulder and said her name.

She continued to sob as she said, “Oh God, what’s happening?”

Peter turned her around and picked her up to carry her out. She was surprisingly light although he probably shouldn’t have been that surprised since she was almost a foot shorter than him. He put one arm under the crook in her legs and one behind her shoulders, keeping her leaning into him. Peter turned and started for the exit.