I could not repress a cry when I heard this. I remembered my own experience in the automobile that night, now so long ago, as it seemed. The drowsy feeling had come to me with its stupefying accompaniment when the fog had rolled in through the cracks of the car. It had disappeared when I lighted the heater. An idea came to me — a possible means of saving my friend in his extremity.
I rang the bell for an attendant.
“Lay a fire, and light it immediately!” I ordered.
The attendant looked at me in amazement. The day was a hot one, and my order must have seemed as crazy as the sick man’s ant- collecting.
“Hurry,” I snapped, as I saw the look that I was coming to know spreading across the face of the patient.
The attendant flew like the wind, realizing that the matter must be important. While I anxiously watched the struggle that was, I know, going on in the mind of my friend, the fire was laid. Beads of perspiration stood out on his forehead. His jaw was gritted in fierce resolve, as he watched the attendant futilely attempting to ignite the kindling.
There was no time to waste. I dashed out of the room and into the dispensary. My eyes found a bottle of alcohol. Snatching this from the hand of a startled intern, I ran back to the room as fast as my legs would carry me.
Dr. Prendergast was writhing upon the bed and clawing frantically at the tenuous wisps of gray mist that seemed to be stretching out their sinuous tentacles to draw him into their clutch. They seemed actually imbued with life, as I am convinced they were. He lay upon the bed as though trying to hide from the relentless purpose of this Thing that strove to blast his sanity.
The alcohol flew from my hand, the match ignited it, and the flames licked greedily at the kindling. The thin wisps of mist writhed and twisted, and gradually vanished as the fire gained volume and roared a menace to this Thing from the depths.
Upon the bed lay the racked form of my colleague, shuddering and weak, but smiling — and in his right mind!
“We’ve won!” he cried jubilantly, grasping my hand.
“Rather say ‘we are winning.’ ” I smiled, pleased at the success of my experiment. “Don’t let that fire out, no matter how hot it becomes in here, or you’ll soon find out that this business isn’t finished. Look! Can’t you see it out there on the lawn? That mist — twisting and curling like a thwarted Thing? It’s alive, I’ll swear. If you let that fire out, or open this window, it’ll be after us again with a vengeance!
Don’t forget — keep that fire burning night and day! It’s life or death now!”
I left immediately, for I had much to do. I hurriedly drove to Brocklebank, a small town in the country. Stopping the car before the portals of a large residence, I rang the bell. The servant, who knew me well, ushered me without introduction into the library of my old friend, Geoffrey d’Arlancourt, a student of antiquities and strange beliefs. I wondered that I had not thought of him before.
I broached the subject on my mind without further delay: “What do you know of the worship of the Behemoth, Jeff?”
He wrinkled his brows quizzically. “The Behemoth? — well, a little. It’s apparently a mythical monstrosity that has been the focus of various forms of Satanism, pseudo-religion, and downright butchery.”
I told him about my investigations into the writings of the medieval philosophers, and what I had learned about the Thing.
“In that case you probably know more than I can tell you,” he said with a smile, “except that you, perhaps, have never seen the worship actually practiced.”
“No, indeed,” I said. “That’s what I came to see you about.”
“Well, I have. The name apparently has innumerable variations, but always the main idea is the same. I have sometimes been tempted to think that there may be some such thing in reality. You know, of course, that the so- called savage peoples are given to all forms of voodooism, animism, and the like. We say, in our sophistication, that this is only because they have not yet learned a true sense of values. I am often inclined to think that it is because they are freer in their subjective processes than we are. They think that a tree has power for good and ill. We say it is not possible, and yet Bose, for instance, to mention only one of the great scientists, has conclusively proved that a plant has feelings of joy and pain, and actually cries aloud when hurt. These people, being more readily receptive to influences that we deem spiritual (because we can not otherwise comprehend them), are naturally those among whom such a worship might find a firm foothold. The nearer we go to life in its bald reality, the nearer we come to the worship of the Behemoth and other allied things.”
“Do you mean to imply that this worship is beneficial?” I questioned, in some surprise.
“I won’t say that, but I will say that it serves a very definite purpose in filling a gap that we of civilized times have left void. But to return: If you want to find examples of Behemoth worship, look for them among the lower strata of society — in the hot countries, among the aboriginals of New Zealand, and so on. It was in such places that I found innumerable instances of it on my recent cruise. I confess that I was greatly surprised at the prevalence of the thing. It is spreading at an alarming rate.”
“Tell me the details,” I said breathlessly. Apparently I was on the trail at last.
“Substantially, the worship is the same everywhere, and its very similarity gives it the appearance of representing a widespread truth. It appears to be related to a real, a living thing. The great idea back of it is that the time is rapidly approaching when the jungle will return to its own, when civilization will be wiped out, and the law of power will again prevail.
“Apparently this Behemoth has never been seen, but it can be felt. I almost believe I have felt it myself. Incantations are made in a language absolutely unintelligible to anybody; the medicine men themselves have told me that they can not apprehend the meaning except through the medium of traditional translations. And here is another strange thing: though I have seen this worship in New Guinea and Peru, in Malaysia and Finland, the syllables have always a similarity. The incantations are seemingly the same. They sound like unintelligible gibberish, more like the language of apes or the roar of the sea lion than speech, yet they are pronounced nearly alike by these widely separated races. Randall — they mean something!'
Again I felt my flesh beginning to creep at the thought of the tremendous power with which I had to deal.
“What is the central feature of this worship?”
“There are two: a mystic union with the Behemoth, which means a pledge to aid in the restoration of the jungle and the overthrow of civilization; and secondly, the objective side, which includes the sacrifice of unbelievers — usually to members of the reptilian species, though I have seen children given to jaguars, which were kept as sacred symbols.”
“I suppose there are even places here where this abomination holds sway,” I suggested with a flutter of anxiety.
“Not a doubt of it. The thing is apparently gaining currency everywhere; why not here? I could almost tell you where to look to find the worship practiced.”
I then told d’Arlancourt everything that had led me to make these inquiries. When I had finished, his face was tense and fearful.
“This is monstrous! I can scarcely believe it. If it is true, we must take steps immediately to root out this cancerous putridity at its very heart. Wait!”
He walked across to the bookcase and selected a volume. For some minutes he read in silence. Then he spoke:
“There appear to be some secret orders founded upon this worship. The names will, in all probability, be changed, but they may be similar enough for us to spot them. One is the Macrocosm. Another is the order of Phemaut, a very ancient one, originating in Egyptian times, and worshiping as its symbol the hippopotamus. If my memory serves me aright, the word for hippopotamus in the language of the third dynasty was Pe-he-maut: very similar to Behemoth, you see.
“Now, we shall ascertain if there are any relics of this business in Twentieth Century America.”
He lifted the telephone receiver, and a chill dread came over me. I felt again that overwhelming fear that presaged the coming of the Thing.
