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May. 19th, 2008 11:58 amAs Ray returned to the camp in the Lake Tele jungles, Dr. Ndebele looked up. "Dr. Stantz. We have visitors," he said.
"People visitors, or claws and snarls and fire visitors?" Ray asked immediately. On jobs like this it never hurt to be sure.
"People visitors," said Ndebele. "And the kind without guns, at that. But there is a problem."
He stepped aside to indicate two men of a little under five feet tall each. They were both considerably darker-skinned than Ndebele himself, with equally short hair, but they wore fairly Western-looking clothing. Their footgear appeared handmade, though, and they carried well-worn knives. One of them, who looked somewhat older than his companion, leaned on a walking-stick as he glanced, unimpressed, at Ray. The other tilted his head expectantly and said something in French.
"… um. Malheureusement? Je suis seulement un American?" Ray tried. "Dr. Ndebele, please tell me you can translate-"
"That would be the problem," said Ndebele dryly. "These are Mokoloba and Dondolo, of the Baka people of this region. They had been following us through the jungle to see what your intentions were. Mokoloba says that Dondolo can tell you of the creature who attacked the bushmeat men… but Dondolo speaks no French, and I speak no Baka."
"Huh boy."
Judging by the Baka men's responses, that translated well enough on its own.
Several hours later, Dondolo's information was finally hashed out. It ran something like this:
"There has been a creature in these jungles larger than any elephant since a hundred years ago. A thunderstone fell from the skies in midsummer. My grandfather's father first heard the creature after that, when he was young. It howled like a mad thing, driving the game away; he went to look for it. The beast that he saw was caught in the mud, thrashing, and its eyes burned like fire. It tore at the trees but could not pull itself free, and it sank from sight."
"My grandfather's father saw it again years later, when the hunters came from England to find the Mokele-mbembe and shoot it-"
"The creature wasn't the Mokele-mbembe, then?" Ray interrupted.
Dondolo shook his head. "No. It was not. He would have known the river beast on sight. This was something else."
Ray glanced at Ndebele, who only lifted his shoulders a little. "Go on," Ray said.
"The hunters asked my grandfather's father to help them find the river beast. He brought them to the place it was last seen, but he found no sign of it. Only strange tracks, like something that walks upright, but huge. He remembered the creature in the mud, and tried to tell the Englishmen, but they did not listen. When they drew close to where the creature had sunk he asked them to turn back, but they would not. It came at them out of the forest then, and they shot at it, but it shouted at them."
"Really."
"Yes." Dondolo fingered his stick. "The creature spoke to them in Baka. It wanted to know why they were shooting at it. But they were so afraid that they ran off before he could translate, and did not come back."
"Huh." Ray considered this. "What did your great-grandfather do?"
"He was afraid of the creature too," said Dondolo, "but he stood where he was, and it only looked at him. It said it wanted to sleep and grow strong, or else it would chase him too. Then it turned and went back into the jungle, and he did not see it again in his lifetime."
Ray started to nod at that, but there was something about the phrasing that bothered him. As he turned the possibility over he said, "Has anyone else seen it?"
"My father's second wife," said Dondolo. "She came of the Bangombe tribe. When she was a young woman the men of the Bangombe had built a fence in their river to keep Mokele-mbembe from interfering with their fishing. A river beast broke through anyway, and the men killed it. There was a great feast of victory afterwards, but she did not take part, because she did not feel well. She was gathering firewood when she heard the creature in the forest, and saw two burning blue eyes far, far overhead. It started to bend down to look at her, but she was afraid, and she ran. She says it called to her in Lingala, asking her to return, but she did not listen. When she returned to the spot with the men who were willing to come away from the feast, it was gone. It left only wrecked trees and burned growth where it walked. All the men who came with her grew sick and died afterwards."
Ray glanced at Ndebele, then back at Dondolo. "How quickly?"
"Within a week," was the answer. "As if all their insides were trying to escape."
"Eew. What about your father's second wife?"
"She did not take sick," Dondolo said, "though she was so frightened at the creature, and at the falling of the men, that she was only too happy to marry my father and leave that place."
"Sensible of her," Ray murmured. "Thank you, Dondolo. Anything else?"
"It has been awake lately," was the answer. "I have seen it moving, myself. Something great and shining grey, its back like a wet lizard-"
That was when the memory hit him, of a small, slender volume squashed into the Miskatonic library, a book by an explorer named Seaton who had visited the Congo in the 1850s. The Sleeping Gods are vortices of power in natural form, and may not be seen by human eyes, ran the Seaton account. On rare occasions they can draw together bodies for themselves, to lure men to them for service. These bodies are monstrous and bear some resemblance to enormous reptiles, though inspection reveals their utter dissimilarity to any reptiles that ever walked the face of the earth. Such close inspection is not advised, however. . .
Ray shivered a little, nodded, and thanked the men. He'd never been so glad that he'd packed the Spates Catalog along with him in his life, but he was pretty sure he wasn't going to get any sleep tonight.
"People visitors, or claws and snarls and fire visitors?" Ray asked immediately. On jobs like this it never hurt to be sure.
"People visitors," said Ndebele. "And the kind without guns, at that. But there is a problem."
He stepped aside to indicate two men of a little under five feet tall each. They were both considerably darker-skinned than Ndebele himself, with equally short hair, but they wore fairly Western-looking clothing. Their footgear appeared handmade, though, and they carried well-worn knives. One of them, who looked somewhat older than his companion, leaned on a walking-stick as he glanced, unimpressed, at Ray. The other tilted his head expectantly and said something in French.
"… um. Malheureusement? Je suis seulement un American?" Ray tried. "Dr. Ndebele, please tell me you can translate-"
"That would be the problem," said Ndebele dryly. "These are Mokoloba and Dondolo, of the Baka people of this region. They had been following us through the jungle to see what your intentions were. Mokoloba says that Dondolo can tell you of the creature who attacked the bushmeat men… but Dondolo speaks no French, and I speak no Baka."
"Huh boy."
Judging by the Baka men's responses, that translated well enough on its own.
Several hours later, Dondolo's information was finally hashed out. It ran something like this:
"There has been a creature in these jungles larger than any elephant since a hundred years ago. A thunderstone fell from the skies in midsummer. My grandfather's father first heard the creature after that, when he was young. It howled like a mad thing, driving the game away; he went to look for it. The beast that he saw was caught in the mud, thrashing, and its eyes burned like fire. It tore at the trees but could not pull itself free, and it sank from sight."
"My grandfather's father saw it again years later, when the hunters came from England to find the Mokele-mbembe and shoot it-"
"The creature wasn't the Mokele-mbembe, then?" Ray interrupted.
Dondolo shook his head. "No. It was not. He would have known the river beast on sight. This was something else."
Ray glanced at Ndebele, who only lifted his shoulders a little. "Go on," Ray said.
"The hunters asked my grandfather's father to help them find the river beast. He brought them to the place it was last seen, but he found no sign of it. Only strange tracks, like something that walks upright, but huge. He remembered the creature in the mud, and tried to tell the Englishmen, but they did not listen. When they drew close to where the creature had sunk he asked them to turn back, but they would not. It came at them out of the forest then, and they shot at it, but it shouted at them."
"Really."
"Yes." Dondolo fingered his stick. "The creature spoke to them in Baka. It wanted to know why they were shooting at it. But they were so afraid that they ran off before he could translate, and did not come back."
"Huh." Ray considered this. "What did your great-grandfather do?"
"He was afraid of the creature too," said Dondolo, "but he stood where he was, and it only looked at him. It said it wanted to sleep and grow strong, or else it would chase him too. Then it turned and went back into the jungle, and he did not see it again in his lifetime."
Ray started to nod at that, but there was something about the phrasing that bothered him. As he turned the possibility over he said, "Has anyone else seen it?"
"My father's second wife," said Dondolo. "She came of the Bangombe tribe. When she was a young woman the men of the Bangombe had built a fence in their river to keep Mokele-mbembe from interfering with their fishing. A river beast broke through anyway, and the men killed it. There was a great feast of victory afterwards, but she did not take part, because she did not feel well. She was gathering firewood when she heard the creature in the forest, and saw two burning blue eyes far, far overhead. It started to bend down to look at her, but she was afraid, and she ran. She says it called to her in Lingala, asking her to return, but she did not listen. When she returned to the spot with the men who were willing to come away from the feast, it was gone. It left only wrecked trees and burned growth where it walked. All the men who came with her grew sick and died afterwards."
Ray glanced at Ndebele, then back at Dondolo. "How quickly?"
"Within a week," was the answer. "As if all their insides were trying to escape."
"Eew. What about your father's second wife?"
"She did not take sick," Dondolo said, "though she was so frightened at the creature, and at the falling of the men, that she was only too happy to marry my father and leave that place."
"Sensible of her," Ray murmured. "Thank you, Dondolo. Anything else?"
"It has been awake lately," was the answer. "I have seen it moving, myself. Something great and shining grey, its back like a wet lizard-"
That was when the memory hit him, of a small, slender volume squashed into the Miskatonic library, a book by an explorer named Seaton who had visited the Congo in the 1850s. The Sleeping Gods are vortices of power in natural form, and may not be seen by human eyes, ran the Seaton account. On rare occasions they can draw together bodies for themselves, to lure men to them for service. These bodies are monstrous and bear some resemblance to enormous reptiles, though inspection reveals their utter dissimilarity to any reptiles that ever walked the face of the earth. Such close inspection is not advised, however. . .
Ray shivered a little, nodded, and thanked the men. He'd never been so glad that he'd packed the Spates Catalog along with him in his life, but he was pretty sure he wasn't going to get any sleep tonight.
