Adam’s Pilgrimage part 6:
Quagmire in the Dark on Bowland Fell, May 15th
- 16th
as played via e-mail
Tuesday May 15th:
Adam trudges in
to
The tent is easy
to erect and the calor-gas stove fairly easy to use.
Despite being seriously damp thanks to the continual heavy showers, physically
Adam feels in great shape. But Victor was right about capital purchases
impairing meditation. You can’t quite work out why, but something about
shopping intrudes on your psyche. Nonetheless it’s peaceful and you look
forward to tomorrow.
Wednesday May 16th:
You cook your
porridge, feeling absurdly cheerful, probably due to the weather looking much
brighter than it has for days. The tent is a trifle harder to pack than it was
to erect but familiarity will no doubt make it easier as you go on.
You set off NW
before turning north to spend the day hiking over a series of peaks: Parlick, Snape Fell and Sykes
Fell, to camp on the Wyre south of Ward’s Stone. This is only 11 miles but off
road hiking is half the pace of on road.
It is midweek
and it’s raining so you see only half-a-dozen walkers the entire day. The
showers are much lighter today and it’s very mild indeed; almost perfect
walking weather. You find you get the chance to really mull things over in your
head and by the time you set camp you’re feeling about as peaceful and relaxed
as you can recall in years.
You cook your
meal (a little meagre as Victor’s diet sheet is beginning to get stringent).
Then you settle in your sleeping bag as dusk falls to watch the stars come out
(yes, the stars are clearly visible past the isolated fluffy clouds though
there’s no moon). Adam has no trouble at all reaching a meditative state.
Presently it
turns cold. Adam zips up the tent and goes to sleep.
Ever seen Blair
Witch Project? Something wakes Adam from a deep sleep. He’s not sure what it is
but something large is outside the tent; the squelchy
sucking noise of a foot entering and emerging from a foot-deep bog is
unmistakeable. What do you do?
Quietly unzip
the tent and peer outside with a torch to hand but not turned on, yet.
Adam looks out
on to a starlit fellscape. There’s still no moon
(it’s actually a New Moon but I see nothing in Adam’s skill suite to suggest he
might know that). The noise seemed to come from the other end of the tent.
He’ll need to actually get out of the tent (and presumably put on some clothes)
if he wants to investigate.
While he’s
considering his options, he hears a woman’s voice muttering angrily to herself, “Damned bogs! How am I supposed to tell red grass
from green by starlight?”
Adam will dress himself then head out and talk to the woman - assuming she
doesn't look too threatening.
It’s a couple of
minutes by the time he’s got his boots on but he can hear the soggy squelching
noises moving slowly away as he does up the laces. Then he ducks out of the
tent and stands up.
He looks around.
Damn but it’s dark! Then he hears a horse whinny very
faintly, off to the west, behind his tent, but he can see nothing at all in the
pitch dark. He’s still holding his torch, does he want
to switch it on?
He won't bother
- if they've gone he'll go back to sleep.
You dive back in
to the tent but, as you start to unlace your boots, you hear the horse again;
this time a shrill neigh of distress! Then there’s human cry choked off before
it’s barely started followed almost immediately with a liquid thud, as of a
heavy body hitting very soft ground. The horse neighs again; it sounds
terrified.
Adam will head
back out with torch on this time.
It’s very dark
and chilly. You have to keep your torch pointed almost at your feet to find
your way. It’s a good job you have your boots on as the ground is very wet.
Faintly, you can
hear sounds of something large moving ahead. In your mind you can see a horse
wallowing in the bog, its rider trapped unconscious, slowly drowning under the
weight of her mount.
Then you see
something moving ahead. From the size it must be the horse but for the moment
it’s just a dark shape in the night. It’s low down so it’s definitely caught in
the bog. There’s that gloopy squelching sound again
but it’s very hard to see clearly, almost as if the night is soaking up the
light from your torch – spooky!
Are you getting
closer?
Slowly
and carefully.
You edge forward
slowly, flicking the torch beam from your feet to illuminate the thrashing
beast and back again, picking your way with care.
When you’re
within five yards you can see it clearly, a dark chestnut or black horse side
on to you with its head to the right, mired up to its withers in the bog,
struggling madly. It seems terrified. You can’t see the rider.
Then you realise
there’s no saddle.
Adam will use a
soothing voice to try and calm the horse down.
You move forward
slowly, keeping the torch beam away from the horse’s eyes, your off-hand held
out in a quieting gesture. You instinctively keep your voice low and soothing.
The beast’s
thrashings subside, though you’re not sure whether it’s genuinely calmed or
just uncertain over what you are going to do. Occasional massive ‘glooping’ noises betray odd attempts to free its legs.
It occurs to you
that 400lbs of well-muscled stallion on four spindly single-toed legs is a very
poor design for negotiating soft ground and this beast seems to have found the
softest bit of ground for miles. Hopefully there’s a bottom somewhere.
Just as the
animal seems genuinely calmed and you’re working out how exactly to get the
beast out of the situation (let alone what happens after), the squelching noise
suddenly rises to a crescendo.
Fearful that the
beast has taken fright again, you flash the torch up to the head. At that
moment you realise it’s more of a ‘tearing’ noise than a ‘squelch’, as the
horse’s neck parts company from the body, which splits along its length as
something extrudes violently from within.
Within seconds,
a black, glutinous mass boils out from the twitching carcase, reaching
gelatinous pseudopods toward you. The horse’s head
falls off the right-most tentacle with a splat. One of the others features a
large inhuman eye. What do you do?
Run away!
The Shoggoth (Adam recognises it for what it is) surges
powerfully out of the mire, far more quickly than you would have guessed
possible.
You break in to
a run as you turn away but a flying piece of horse buffets your shoulder a
glancing blow. Though scarcely hurt, it knocks you off balance and, arms
flailing, you suddenly find yourself up to your waist in filthy bog.
Desperately
forcing yourself to stay calm, you take some deep breaths while you take stock
of your situation.
You’re trapped
and this is definitely the sort of mud in to which you can sink without a
trace. Your feet feel no bottom. You look around for anything within arms’
reach that could help you out.
After a few
seconds, you realise you’re incredibly tense, shoulders hunched, expecting the Shoggoth to seize you at any second.
A few more,
intense, seconds and you begin to wonder what’s going on behind you. You hear a
faint squelch, as of something large shifting position, but nothing’s grabbed
you yet.
Adam will take a
couple of breaths to try and relax and then try to grab any dry land/branches
and move slowly/swim out - he will not turn around.
Adam is in
sucking mud and his efforts to swim simply drive him deeper in the disgusting
black ooze. As regards branches, up on the fells there are very few trees and
certainly none that Adam can see in the bog.
Then it occurs
to Adam that he can see. Someone (or something) appears to be holding a
flashlight on him. No doubt it’s his own torch, but the
wan light shines steadily on him from behind.
Again he hears
quiet squelching noises, as of feet shuffling slowly behind him. Not coming
closer, or moving away; waiting. Adam feels the hairs at the back of his neck
prickle. He’s sure someone is watching him sinking slowly in to the ooze.
Adam will take a
look behind him.
It’s difficult
because only that part of you out of the ooze is free to turn but by craning
over your shoulder you can make out a man (or something very like a man)
holding the torch in one hand. The light dazzles your eyes and all you can see
is the outline.
But then the man
puts the torch down on a convenient low rock, so that it’s still shining in
your eyes. Rising, he starts slowly to pace around the edge of your particular
bit of bog. As he comes around, the light catches him and you realise it is eka-Adam again. The wild, hairy version of your own face
bears a thoughtful expression.
Now almost half
way round; turning, he steps carefully one pace closer, then a second. The
light catches his boots perfectly; they’re your boots!
He’s now only
four or five feet away, about as close as he can get. He crouches down and
offers you his hand. By now the muck is nearly up to your armpits but you hold
both your arms up high to keep them free. The stench of the ooze is
indescribable; it can’t just be mud, it smells like something is rotting
beneath the surface.
His face (your
face) wears a twisted smirk; an expression you hope is alien to your real
physiognomy. Suddenly, for the first time, you can read him like a book. He’s
got you right where he wants you; either you reach for his hand, or you sink in
to the stinking mire. You think others have been here before; that’s why this
bog smells the way it does, of putrescence.
Although Adam doesn't
really trust him he'd rather take a chance on him than sink into the mud. He's
got nothing to lose.
There is always
something to lose…
The moment the
two hands touch, Adam knows something is wrong. Eka-Adam’s
twisted smile becomes insanely ecstatic. Then somehow, just as with your dream
of Alderley Edge, you suddenly find yourself on the
bank, gazing down on yourself in the bog; some part of you revels in the look
of horror on your face.
Then you feel
the hand of Adam-in-the-bog turn slimy yet muscular and, as you let go, the arm
turns in to something black and gelatinous, a hideous, ropy tentacle. Like a
disease, the transformation creeps down the arm, vanishing in to the ooze as
Adam-in-the-bog throws back his head and howls in terror.
And then you
wake up. As you lie there awake in your sleeping bag in the dark your left arm
feels unnaturally slimy.
Well it wasn't
exactly a win-win situation. Adam will check out his arm.
As Adam gropes for
his flashlight, he feels panic rising as he realises he can’t feel his fingers.
With the flashlight in his other hand he has to control his fears and count
slowly to ten before switching on the light.
Your arm is
normal; just abnormally sweaty and gone to sleep from having slept on it.
Already you can feel pins-and-needles in your fingers. You breathe a deep and
heartfelt sigh of relief. It was just (another) dream.
Yet you can’t
help feeling disturbed by the dream. Unlike the bullfight, you can’t help
feeling that somehow this one did not end well.
The rest of the
night passes uneventfully.