(CoC-2) The Sanatorium

After running for what seemed like an eternity, the investigators eventually arrived back at the cliffs overlooking the docks where they had landed nearly 24 hours earlier.  In the distance they could barely make out a plume of smoke rising from the sea.

“Is that our boat?”

It was, roughly 300 yards out to see and on fire.  The investigators hurried down to the docks to find Ebenezer’s frail body lying face down on the timber structure.  His head apparently caved in with a heavy object.

“I wonder if the missing axe from the maintenance shed did that?” they wondered.

Reginald, no stranger to dead bodies after his time in Africa, searched Ebenezer’s lifeless corpse, finding a small wooden amulet on a leather strap, which he pocketed.

They decided to head back to the mansion as the sun was setting and a thick fog seemed to be rolling in off the sea. 

It was then that they decided that the sedation of the patients was a priority and that they should also make sure all of the patients were secured safely in their own rooms.  Starting in the basement they visited the room of Allen Harding.  He was still lying on his bed where they had left him the night before.  On entering the room Mike thought he saw a figure looking into the room through the barred, basement window. 

“Look! There is someone outside!”

The investigators split in two and each pair circled around the house in different directions.  Mike and Horatio reached the outside window first and after a thorough search of the grounds found no sign of any disturbance.  Even standing back and looking at the roof Horatio saw nothing.

Suddenly, like before Mike noticed someone.  This time inside the building, at the window above Allen Harding’s room. 

“Look! There is someone inside!”

Again, the investigators ran inside to Blanche’s room.  With the same result as before, nothing.

Putting Mike’s visions down to paranoia, the group decided to carry on with their inspections of the rooms, to see if any of the patients had seen or heard anything. 

Henry Barber the Third was the only patient who’d heard anything.

“All I heard was you imbeciles storming around like children, do you mind, I’m trying to sleep!”

“Well go to sleep then!” Spat Reginald.  In obvious need of a drink.

The group where then startled to hear shrieks and screams coming from the room of Cecilia Rudolph down the hall.  Running to her room and taking a look through the hatch they could see her sitting on the ground holding her head in her hands screaming.

“It’s under the bed! Please help! It’s coming for me!”

Showing no fear Reginald and Colorado entered the room, cautiously looking under the bed they saw nothing.  Reginald even lifted the bed up, propping it against the wall, but there was nothing there.

It was then that the investigators decided to start administering sedatives to the patients. 

Blanche had finished making dinner for the patients and guests and suggested that the investigators should start serving the food to the patients in their rooms.  While Mike decided against the meal of meatloaf and potatoes, instead opting for an apple sandwich.

Reginald decided it would be good time to go and retrieve his hip-flask from Leonard Hawkins.  Checking through the hatch that Leonard was still lying on the ground where Mike had planted him earlier.  He entered the maniacs’ room.

“OK Leonard, where is my flask?” 

“Leave me alone” Whimpered Leonard

“Give me my flask now dammit!” fumed Reginald, poking at Leonard with his foot, trying to roll him over.

Suddenly without notice Leonard lashed and grabbed Reginald’s supporting leg, pulling him to the ground.

“Get off me you cur!” screamed Reginald, aiming a kick at Leonard's head, at the same time upholstering his pistol.

A brief struggle ensued, quickly ending with Reginald striking Leonard on the side of his with this firearm, causing Leonard to slink away whimpering.

“I warned you!”  Spat Reginald, searching Leonard and his room for his hip flask, without any luck.

“Bah!” he exclaimed as the others ran into the room to see what the commotion was about.

With all the excitement dying down the group decided it was time to call it a night. 

Mike, having read numerous spy novels in his spare time decided that maybe covering the main entry points of the mansion with flour might point them in the direction of whoever was carrying out these murders.

They also decided that they would all sleep in the same room, keeping a guard at 2 hour intervals.  It was an uneventful, if nerve wracking night, the weather outside doing it’s best to add to the atmosphere.

DAY 3

On waking, the investigators decided to go and see if Mike’s plan had been successful. 

They quickly noticed large, booted footprints leading from one of the external doors down towards the ground floor patient’s room and back again numerous times.  The group followed the footprints to the room of Cecilia Rudolph. 

Shocked to find the door standing wide open, even more shocked to find the room uninhabited.  The only things out of place, a blood stain on the wall and Reginald’s hip-flask on the floor.

“Oh” said Reginald, “That’s unfortunate. It’s empty”

Following drops of blood on the floor the investigators headed back towards the lobby where the majority of the footprints where found, almost bumping headlong into Blanche.

“Who the hell left all this flour on the floor?” She screamed. “And look, someone’s been walking through it!” 

Fearing further backlash, the investigators rushed past her and out into the rear garden of the mansion.  Following distinct footprints left in the wet grass that seemed to head towards the gravel path that circled the island.

“It looks like its heading back towards that stone table”

Fearing the worst, the investigators quickly headed towards the stone altar they had found the day before.  In the distance they could see a dark shape lying on top of the table.

“You better stay here Mike” warned Horatio.

“Don’t want you flipping out on us again” laughed Reginald.

Both Reginald and Horatio managed to keep their nerve although the site at the altar rock was a disturbing one.

Lying haphazardly strewn across the rock was the disemboweled and mutilated body of Cecilia Rudolph, her legs seemingly missing and two large seagulls feasting on what was left of her small intestine.

“What a shame” remarked Horatio, as they both walked back to their companions, leaving the body for the wildlife to devour.

“We should start searching the woods” said Colorado, brandishing his pistol.  “Let us spread out and search each wooded area on the island.”

The group started searching the nearest forested area about 50 yards from the stone along the eastern side of the island.  After about 30 minutes or so they came across a makeshift camp among the pine trees.

“Someone has been living out here, probably our murderer” they all blurted out at once.

They decided to move to the central wooded area and start a similar search pattern there.

Before they could do that however, Colorado and Horatio noticed a large plume of black smoke rising up from the vicinity of the sanatorium.

The group all rushed back to the sanatorium expecting to find the building ablaze.  Instead it seemed it was the maintenance shed that was burning and the flames seemed to be spreading to the generator shed.

“With all that fuel in there I was expecting a larger explosion” thought Colorado Smith out loud.

He was not to be disappointed as a massive ball of flame exploded into the air as the generator succumbed to the flames.

“Ah there we go”

Looking around the immediate area the investigators noticed what seemed to be wheelchair tracks heading into the now flame-engulfed maintenance shed. They quickly ran back inside the building and came face to face with Blanche who was just heading outside to see that the commotion was.

“What the heck have you boys gone and done now?”

“Have you seen anyone come through here Blanche?” countered Reginald.

“Just the Colonel and Charles”

“Who the hell is Charles?” queried the group in unison.

“You know, Charles, the orderly who looks after us?  Big, friendly, giant of a man.  He usually takes the Colonel out for a walk if the weather is permitting”

“He has a room in the basement”

Searching the room the investigators didn’t find anything of interest, just a wardrobe full of clothes that they obviously missed on their first search of the mansion.

The investigators decided to start questioning the other patients in the basement to see what they could find out about this mysterious Charles.

They started with the cross dressing Henry Barber.  All four standing around the hatch on his door, Reginald started the questioning.

“Where is Charles?” he began.

“I’m not telling you” was the reply.

“Look, we’re all trying to be civil here” piped up Horatio.

“OK, I’ll tell the handsome one” replied Barber

“Go on then” said Reginald, moving closer to the hatch.

“Not you pointdexter” spat Barber “The rugged one”

“Oh, OK then” mutter Mike stepping forward sheepishly.

“Not you either, you fucking meathead!” Barber’s husky voice belying his feminine garb.

“Him”

Colorado’s eyes dropped when he realised Henry Barber was staring directly at him.

“I’ll tell him anything he wants to know.  Come closer, I won’t bite”

Colorado edged millimetres closer to the door while his companions backed off.

“Come on, come closer”

Urged by his comrades, Colorado moved closer to the hatch until he could feel Henry’s warm breath on his cheek.

“Wh...wh...where is Charles?” he stammered.

“Right here you cunt!” and with that Henry rammed a previously concealed blade between the bars in the hatch, catching Colorado on the side of his face and neck leaving a gaping wound. 

Grasping his face Colorado fell to his knees as Henry tried feebly to lash out through the bars with his knife, dropping it outside the cell in the process.

Mike quickly moved to slam the hatch shut, seconds later, the door trembled on its hinges as Henry Barber threw all his weight against it, hammering on it like a madman.  Then, as quickly as it had started, the banging ended abruptly with a muffled thud.

Looking back through the hatch Reginald could see that Henry must have tried to ram the door with his head, leaving himself unconscious with a wicked gash across his forehead.

Mike offered to suture Colorado’s wound, an offer kindly refused when it was pointed out that Mike’s hands had not stopped shaking since he first found Nurse Ames’ body almost two days prior.

The investigators then realised that they needed to regroup and try come to a conclusion about what was happening around them.  They remembered that there was still a safe in the office upstairs that they had not been able to crack yet.  And there was also mention of a manuscript in some notes they had found on Dr Brewer’s desk that might be able to shed some light on proceedings.

The investigators turned Dr Brewer’s room and office upside down and it was under one of the drawers in his dresser that Mike found the combination to the safe.  The group quickly opened Brewer’s safe and inside it they found the Castro Manuscript and some of the doctor’s notes on both Harding and Darlene.

The manuscript told the story of “The Ones Who Wait” otherworldly creations, who in the times of the Pharaohs had threatened to end the existence of all leaving beings on the planet. 

These plans where thwarted though by a High Priestess of Bast named Annephis.  Who, with the use of spells, magical wards and tokens had driven the abominations into the Nile, destroying them.

Dr Brewer’s notes mentioned that sometimes Darlene, in her hypnotic state would channel Annephis and show signs of possibly even being a reincarnation of the Priestess. 

Allen Harding’s notes portrayed him as a deranged alcoholic and drug abuser who at times under hypnotherapy would describe large, unbelievable creatures that could destroy humanity if left to gain strength unhindered.

Using these notes, the investigators decided the next course of action would be to try and contact Annephis through Darlene.  The notes giving exact details of the sedatives and drugs required to bring on a hypnotic state.

The group found Darlene in the dining room, quickly administering the concoction they waited for any kind of change in her demeanour.  After a few minutes of discussion they realised Darlene had at least two other personalities.  One, a mild mannered woman who couldn’t remember why she was in the sanatorium. The other, an overbearing, upper class, trophy wife from New York.

Feeling that they weren’t getting anywhere Horatio mentioned the name Annephis.  Suddenly as if a switch had been flicked Darlene’s demeanour changed.  Gone was the snobbery, replaced with a strong, emotionless visage, eyes darkening, a slight gleam in her eyes.

She turned to face Reginald.  “You! You are warded are you not?” her accent unrecognisable.  “Show it to me”

Reginald withdrew the small wooden charm he had removed from Ebenezer’s body holding it out to Darlene.

“You are all in great danger, The Ones Who Wait are near and they mean to destroy everything.  That fool Harding meddled with things he didn’t understand.  You will need to act quickly if you wish for your civilization to survive.”

The group looked at each other alarmed.

“What do you we have to do?  How can we stop this thing” asked Reginald, the amulet gripped tightly in his hand.

“The beast’s power is great, it has received many sacrifices, and soon it will be powerful enough to leave this island.  You must burn it.  There is no other way!”  Darlene’s eyes closed and she slumped back in her chair, her face drained of colour.

The group quickly decided to round up all of the flammable material they could get their hands on.  Colorado and Mike went to the kitchen and started gathering up all of the gas lamps they could carry.  Horatio and Reginald searched the laundry room for any flammable clothing or linen.

While searching the laundry, Reginald thought he heard a noise behind him.  Turning, he came face to face with a terrible sight.

Standing the in the doorway to the laundry was Charles Johnson, at over six foot tall and brandishing a large bloodied woodsman’s axe the former orderly resembled something from a nightmare.  His previously white coat streaked with blood and dirt, his eyes bloodshot and lifeless.

Without a sound, he lunged at Reginald, intent on hammering him with the handle of the axe.  Instead, he tripped over the outstretched legs of the maid Melba only just managing to keep his feet.  With a yell, Reginald rolled back on his heels, drawing his service pistol in one swift movement.

Alarmed by the yell, Horatio turned in time to see the mountainous form of Charles Johnson stumbling off balance towards him.  In a flash, he un-holstered his pistol and fired a round straight into Johnson’s chest.  A shot that would have ended any normal man didn’t even seem to faze the deranged maniac.

Lurching forward Johnson rammed the shaft of the axe straight into the jaw of the former air force ace, knocking him off his feet onto his back, causing Horatio to nearly bite through his own tongue, as he felt two of his teeth dislodge in his mouth.

Reginald, quick to recover, fired his pistol at point blank range into the side of the marauding maniac.  Astounded to find a shot, which obviously punctured his targets lung and exited through his ribcage having no effect at all.

Without flinching Charles Johnson wrapped his massive hands around the neck of the fallen Scotsman with such pressure that the blood vessels in Horatio’s eyes started to burst.

Colorado, alerted by the gunfire and sounds of struggle ran through the foyer, and down the corridor could see enough of the melee to warrant firing a shot from his trusty .45 at the exposed back of the maniac currently wringing the life out of his friend. 

The round, narrowly missing Horatio’s flailing leg, slammed into the back of its intended target, just as Reginald calmly pressed the barrel of his pistol to the side of Charles Johnson’s head, blowing the lunatics brains out all over the laundry floor.

The maniac’s 300 pound body slumping on top of the stricken Horatio.

“Gif this fuffen thing offo me” he spluttered through broken teeth.

“OKAY, OKAY, calm down” replied Reginald, struggling to role the obliterated corpse off of his companion.

“Let’s get moving, we are running out of daylight” shouted Mike from down the corridor, he had stopped during all the commotion to light a gas lamp.

The group quickly gathered up all of the gas lamps and flammable material and headed towards the lighthouse.  The sun was setting when they arrived and they quickly set about soaking towels and clothing in the oil from the lamps.  Spreading the oil soaked rags around the base of the wooden support pillars on the ground floor of the lighthouse.

It was then that the closed trapdoor at the back of the room burst downwards under the pressure of the large, roiling mass that was now pouring through it. 

Of all the investigators it was Reginald who reacted the quickest to the shape slowing filling the room.  Lighting a match, he coolly flicked it towards the nearest pile of soaked rags.  Only to the entire groups dismay to find the match extinguish in mid-air landing on the ground in front of him with a very faint sizzle.

“BURN IT” was the cry.

The mass of oily, red light flecked evil surrounded Reginald, intent on destroying him like it had so many others.  But, much to the surprise of everyone it stopped in its tracks and recoiled from the wooden amulet Reginald was now wearing around his neck.

Without hesitating Horatio and Colorado lit their matches and successfully set their bundles of oil soaked rags alight.  Mike though, was still coming to grips with what he was seeing and so he hesitated.  A tendril shot out of the mass as quick as a flash and caught him on the shoulder, burning through his clothes and searing his flesh.  The blow spun him around so he was facing the exit of the lighthouse.

“RUN” he screamed as all of the investigators barrelled out of the single narrow door, narrowly missing a mini stampede.

From behind them they could hear horrible hissing, squealing and popping sounds as the flames engulfed the lighthouse.

They didn’t bother to look back and kept running until they came to the dock.  Badly beaten, burned and exhausted they slumped down onto the wooden deck. 

Around 30 minutes later, they spotted a light out in the ocean which slowly came closer.  It was the Coast Guard; they had spotted the flames from the burning shed earlier in the day and had come to investigate.

It seems “The Ones Who Wait” would have to wait a little longer.