It's seem so much like a dream that I sometimes doubt it happened, that it actually was a tornado that the news agencies insist it was. But then, the dreams tell a different story, and again I see the Professors' tortured face from that day, feel the wind, sharp debris, and see... 

            That summer was my graduate year at Irmo University. I was getting my degree in philosophy and math, and an assistant to Professor Jeremiah Curtis. He was studying ancient folklore, and needed my computing skills to catalogue them. He was an aged professor; I was an undergraduate with designs on following in his footsteps. He had the trust, if not quite the respect, of his college peers.

            Professor Curtis and I were fairly similar, despite or differing ages. Both teetotalers, both without romantic entanglements, and both kept our distance from our immediate peers.

        The great event began as it usually did for me.

            I was running to the Irmo University campus, late as usual, when I spied something in the State newspaper that nearly made me trip over my own feet, to the amusement of some of the girls. I ignored their giggling and read a small side item.

            And then, I was running, to find Professor Curtis before his class started.

         I did not succeed, and came in just as he was getting underway. I muttered something unpleasant under my breath, and went out to get on with my duties.

         Eventually, his class let out, and I was able to show him the article. In truth, it was piffle of an article, no more then an also-ran in the papers national section, not even on page one but buried deep into it. This is what it said:

Rare book stolen from Brown University

             The Professor understood my agitation immediately. Brown was one of the places the Buch Vom Tod was located.

        We exchanged worried hypotheses about these mysterious stolen books. We both hoped it wasn't a copy of that book. But without more concrete evidence, our theories where worthless. We forgot it for the present to go about our duties, but the Professor warned the librarians at the rare books collection to be on their guard. They wanted to know why, and the Professor just reiterated his suggestion.

        The week that followed we both acted as if nothing had happened. I continued to do data input for the Professor, compiling his folklore and cataloging it. The Professor spent a lot of time in the library. I assumed he was studying the book, probably in anticipation of another robbery attempt. The book had been the object of several bungled theft attempts by cultist, religious fanatics intent on its destruction, and the curious. They had all been foiled by the vigilance of our campus security. Our security had been augmented over the years, and not we had a most elaborate system for a collage of our small size. Even Clemson and USC expressed jealousy over it. They, of course, didn't have the most dangerous occult book in existence on their campus.

        I continued my classes, trying to lose myself in study. At lunch, I ate alone as usual, scanning the paper for any unusual activities that couldn't be explained by gangs or ordinary criminals. For a week, I came up empty. I puzzled over this, for that book had potent spells that could rend the veils, bring humanity face to face with beings that we could scarcely dream of. No missing people, no bizarre killings. No arcane symbols. Nothing.

        I shrugged, and put the paper aside. It would happen, sooner or later.

 

            The night of the Thirteenth, we where working late, and heard a crash deeper in the school. We got up and ran towards the noise, passing two young interns who joined us. We realized with horror that the noise came from the rare books. Professor Curtis swore and ordered the interns to call the police. They resisted, but eventually did as they were told. We came to the door of the library, and saw a large hole in the glass. We inched into the library, and saw that we were too late. The Professor investigated, and saw that the book was missing. He turned and exited the library in a rage.

        The police were there in moments, but we knew that they were too late. We gave them descriptions of the stolen book, but were very vague about why it was important. We knew that they would not understand.

        After they left, the Professor took me to his office. From a stack of folders, he pulled on marked with "Copy" on it, as well as "Property of Professor Jeremiah Curtis." He opened it and revealed it to be a copy of the book. He said that he had completed it just in time. Because of his status, he had managed to get into the library and copy it without anyone knowing. He had copied it mainly late at night, or when nobody was around. Now, he pulled the cover open and scanned through it. We spent the rest of the night and most of the next day trying to divine what the crooks where after. It was not until a week later that we had our first clue in this regard. It came from a piece in The State.

(AP) The city of Leesville is dealing with strange weather over the past couple of days.

Hurricane force winds have assaulted the area since Tuesday. Some have been as strong as a Category four.

Several deaths have been blamed on the weather, including a group of schoolchildren whose bus flipped over due to the wind. SLED has had the area evacuated, and the Governor has declared it a disaster area.

        Professor Curtis let out an agonized breath as he read this article.

        Professor Curtis said that if those robbers were cultist, Doomsday Cultist perhaps, then they might try to summon the creature, and make that prophesy happen.

        We made plans to go there at once. As a cover, we went as representatives of the collage, to study the bizarre weather patterns.

        We ran into a local news anchor named Candy O'Neil. She was investigating the weird weather.

        "We don't know," said Professor Curtis gruffly, pushing past her. She turned to me. I shrugged.

        "Some have said," she mentioned to me, "That this is some kind of wrath of god."

        I laughed, perhaps a little too loud, asked, "Do you believe that?"

        She flushed, but said, "I think something weird is behind it." Her cameraman nodded.

        "Well, something is behind everything," I said. She brightened up, stuck the mike into my face forcefully, as if sensing a story. I smirked. "But that doesn’t mean I know what" I finished.

        She looked disappointed. She eyed the professor’s bag pack, containing as it did that book.

        "Are you going out to investigate it?" She asked, hopefully. I smirked again.

        "We are" Said Professor Curtis forcefully. The girl looked hopefully. She was young enough that she still had much more to go. She was obviously hoping for a scoop.

        "Would it be alright if we..." She began, but was cut off by Professor Curtis' stentorian "No!" which was so abrupt it caught even me by surprise even though I expected it. She flinched and stepped back, her cute young face screwed up in consternation. She probably expected to be thrown off campus.

        "What I mean" Professor Curtis said, more gently, "Is that our work is not yet ready for publication, and early exposure could result in money issues, copyright issues, you name it. I am sorry, young lady."

        She sighed in relief. She understood, at least partially, what the Professor meant. It had obviously happened more then once to her.

        "Of course, Professor Curtis. Pardon my rashness. But please, keep me in mind when your results are complete" She said.

        "You'll be the first we call" I interjected. I had always had a crush on her when she was allowed a report.

        O'Neil smiled, nodded, and walked away. I admired her long reddish hair tied up on her head, her large green eyes, and her pink jacket and skirt. Professor Curtis coughed, and I broke from my daze to turn to him.

        "Right" He said, "It's time to investigate."

        I nodded, and followed him to the car.

        We reached Fish Hatchery road around noon. I sat and watched the green growing as we felt the concrete intersection and went farther into the country. It was a pleasant experience.

        We reached Pelion, and parked our car in the deserted Wachovia bank. We then hiked down road until we hit a dirt road and then we consulted a map. We had seen no National Guard members. We wondered at that, since the governor had declared this a disaster area. Professor Curtis indicated Boiling Springs road, and we hiked up it, passing several mobile homes in severe cases of decline. The sun was shinning on us as we walked. I found it hard to believe that such devastation as he had hinted at could happen in such weather, but I knew Professor Curtis was not one for exaggeration.

        As we walked, I began to get a vague sense of dread. I looked frequently over my shoulder, as if I suspected we were being trailed. I saw nothing, of course, but it didn't help me any.

        As the evening fell over us, we camped in one of the dilapidated mobile homes. It was an unpleasant experience, as the walls seemed about to fall over us, the floor was broken and unsafe, and no window was intact. We sat down on a semi-intact couch, and ate a can of beans. We talked little, and lit no light, far though we had seen no sign of official representatives we wanted to avoid any legal tangles as long as possible.

        Later, we rested on the broken floor, one sleeping and the other keeping watch. My dreams that first night where horrible, shadowy figures dancing around a fire. A horrible tentacle overgrown with lumpy sores, grey and tough that held a human figure. Ruble falling over me. And through it all, a horrible chant, rising in volume each minute, until I could stand it no more and awoke with a cry.

        Professor Curtis looked at me startled, then made a shushing noise.

        "What is wrong?" He asked. I shook my head, said "Nothing. Bad dreams. Sorry, Professor."

        He smiled benevolently, and offered to exchange places. I gladly accepted his offer.        

        The night passed without incident, and we awoke the next morning reasonably refreshed and rejuvenated. We finished our cans from the previous night. We then donned our packs and moved carefully from the house.

        We were now heading west, based on a hunch of Professor Curtis'. We eventually met a cement road. We were astonished at the state of it. It seemed to be in fairly poor shape. It was cracked and broken, the paint had been softened to a dull grey, and any markers it had had were gone. The road signs, too, were in a severe state of disorder. The ones we saw were twisted like a pretzel. We found other signs in the same state the farther we went.

        We whispered theories to each other as we went, keeping a close watch for any sign of movement. We were surprised to have not seen any sign of wildlife at all, and this set our mood darkly. We didn't even detect the sounds of birds, which haunted us, made us worry. 

        We eventually came to a bridge. More accurately, we came to what was left of a bridge. Most of the middle part was broken in. As we contemplated our options, we felt the wind pick up. Professor Curtis looked at me with a worried expression on his aged face. It picked up considerably, until we were nearly unable to keep our feet. With some shock, we realized that we were being pulled towards the bridge and its swampy bottom.

        We resisted as best we could, trying to hang onto anything that might support us, but eventually the wind became to great, and we found ourselves on the brink of the drop. I looked down and saw a murky brown river, overflowing with weeds, and questionable water-life. Then, I was falling into that inky mess, and my consciousness left me.

                The next thing I knew, I was lying on the shore looking into the face of Candy O'Neil. To say I was surprised would be an understatement. I looked over her should, saw the Professor, looking particularly exhausted. His breathing was heavy and wheezing. I sat up.

        "Don't make any noise," He rasped. His throat, never in great shape, was rattling now. "I think they may have set a trap for us. Sneaky devils! They might also be out here making sure we're dead."

        The girl looked at him strangely. "You mean... This wasn't an accident?" she asked. Professor Curtis shook his gray head and said, "I'm afraid not. This was the work of humans. Humans channeling an inhuman agency."

        "What... Are you doing here?" I asked of her. Candy smiled shyly, said "I traveled out here this morning. We got to a spot on Highway one and these weird winds suddenly started up, and my cameraman and the soundman were thrown into a river. Fast moving, too. The other two hit their heads, and drowned."

        "I was swept under your bridge, and saw you two on the brink of falling in. So, I grabbed some debris, and floated by, and grabbed you both. Secured you both to the stick."

        I smiled, and she smiled back. It was a long day, and this escapade had taken a lot out of me. Professor Curtis cleared his throat, said, "I think we should perhaps leave this area. It's near enough our starting point that they might not think of checking it, but I want to be sure."

        I nodded, and with Candy's help, got to my feet. The section of the woods we were in was overgrown and thick, and it was quite a while before we managed to exit out into a place containing mobile homes in various stages of disrepair. We took shelter in the least broken of them.

As the night wore on, she asked questions of us. Eventually, Professor Curtis relented and answered her them. He told her about the Buch Vom Tod, stolen from Brown University, the Buch Vom Irre Gott stolen from Irmo University just last week.

        "But why? Who..." She asked.

        "I'm getting to that," The professor said, and he told her of his suspicion of a Doomsday Cult, and their object of summoning up the creature. He told her that this creature was so unknown, not one legend could be unearthed, even though the Native American's have believed in it since they arrived here in humanities prehistory. It was a terrible thing, according to scraps and pieces of lore the Professor had uncovered. He couldn't be sure, but it had been here since before any terran life had existed. It had destroyed numerous native tribes, and in desperation, they had offered virgin sacrifices to it. It had worked, at least for awhile. Then, a nameless Shaman had defeated it and sealed it away in the beyond. That had been the end of the days of terror for the Native Americans, and the legends had been suppressed since those days. They survive to this day only as whisperings between elder to elder.

        The girl looked dazed at these revelations. She glanced at me and I nodded.

        "And you two made fun of my 'Wrath of God' idea?" She said. We snickered, and turned to find a spot on the floor to sleep. We heard noises in the night. Someone searching in the woods. None of the noise approached the house, though. 

            The next morning, I found the Professor sitting on the porch, looking out into the woods. I approached him, and asked what the matter was. He looked at the sky.

        "I was thinking about the storm yesterday, and the one two days ago that brought us here. I think I've gauged the reason for the theft of the books," he said. I nodded, waiting for him to continue.

        "This isn't a camping trip, young lady," Professor Curtis told her gruffly. She growled, and got up, and stomped into the bathroom. A shriek soon issued from it.

        She appeared, shrieking about a bug on the toilet. We sighed.

        "And the toilet doesn't work anyway," the Professor mentioned. She looked at him in an even more anguished way.

            So, we thrashed through the woods all morning. We attempted to stay silent, but our efforts were in vain. The Professor stopped every once in a while to study a wind-damaged tree and to point out a new path. It took me several minutes to realize he was using the damaged vegetables to point in the direction of the winds. If he could pinpoint the direction of the winds, he could locate the center. We followed after him, blindly, with even Candy attempted to keep noises to a minimum.

        At noon, we stopped at a house and raided what was left in their icebox. It wasn't quite edible, but it was enough. The girl had started complaining again. She just wasn't used to this kind of thing. We weren't either, but we had to do it.

        "I don't believe this!!" She said, waving her arms. "I've never been so tired or hungry! I'm cut up, twigs in my hair! Why am I hanging with you idiots??"

        "Because," Professor Curtis answered matter-of-factly, "You'd be dead before you got to Highway one."

        She glared at him, and asked "And how do you intend to stay alive when you meet them?"

        "We haven't," The Professor commented slowly, "Worked that out yet."

        This did not do much to turn her expression into a hopeful one.

            That night, the three of us rested in another house. O'Neil was glad to get off her feet. She had been relatively quite all day, which we were thankful for. She now started complaining again, as it to make up for lost time.

        We eventually ate some semi-rotted meat that we found. She sighed at the hardships.

        "Christ," She said, "If the cultists don’t get us, food poisoning will."

        Professor Curtis and I sighed, and found a place on the floor to sleep. I sat there musing on events.

        Suddenly, I was awakened from my reverie by the sensation of someone with their back to me. I looked over my shoulder and was surprised to see Candy O'Neil lying behind me, her back against me. She looked at me and smiled.

        "Do you really think you can defeat a whole cult? The two of you?" She asked. I shrugged, enjoying the unfamiliar warmth.

        "I don't know," I answered. "But we'll try."

        "These cultist... and this book... Is it really that dangerous?"

        "More then you can imagine. One book can summon creatures powerful enough to destroy the world. Together, they could destroy it, and then grind it into dust. All without breaking a sweat. And then do the same to our whole solar system many times over."

        She shivered. She turned over so that her shoulder was against me, and asked "How can you fight such a creature?"

        "There are spells for both summoning and dispelling these monsters in both books. In fact, if they were to be used together, they could call a creature from..."

        I suddenly realized something and shot up to a sitting position. The girl looked startled.

        "Of course!" I exclaimed. "That is the reason the Professor said three days. They used one book to break the veil between dimensions. They will use the other one to actually summon the creature!"

        "I don't understand," Candy said. I smiled at her.

        "If they had to call it from deep space, or from a distant dimension, it would take three days for it to arrive here! At that point the cultists need to gather again!"

        "To put a control spell on it!" She finished. I nodded.

        "I'm so glad," The Professor spoke up from the far side of the room, "That you figured it out. Now, would both of you kindly shut up so I can get to sleep?"

        We both flushed crimson, and lay back down. She remained at my back, to which I was pleased.

            The next morning, the three of us ventured out into the woods. We cut through many, many bushes and tree, and as it was getting near midday, we tooks a break in the shade of a tall tree. It had been tough going, for the woods were terribly thick around here, far more then they should have been. The Professor had no idea concerning the irregular growth. Candy and I just sat there eating some apples we had found, and not talking much. I wondered if perhaps she had wanted something last night beyond her persistant questioning. I noticed she seemed a little more moody then before, but I put it down to the endless journy we had been taking. I didn't think of another reason until much later, particularly considering her actions of the previous night. What can I say, my experiance in that area is sorely lacking.

        We heard thrashing in the woods, and the three of us jumped behind a little nest of branches and bushes. All of us held our breath, waiting to see what would apear and threaton us. It wasn't long in coming.

        From the direction we had been sitting, we saw several figures going through the woods. They were too far from us to make out who they were, but the Professor and I decided to follow. We left the girl there, and stalked down the incline, keeping to the woods, out of sight of our prey. We finally came apon a large brick building, without windows. It had a greenish roof, thick red bricks and a large steel door. We stared at it, awed.

        Professor Curtis nudged me. We took shelter behind a shrub. I looked over to where he was pointing and saw several people entering a house. They were all dressed in grey hooded robes, like something out of a Hammer horror movie.

        "We have found our cultists," He rasped. I nodded, watching them entering. There seem to be nearly twenty of them, in all sizes and heights. The Professor nudged me again. To our right was two more coming from the woods. They were just close enough to us. I understood his meaning. We waited until they were in range, then stood up behind them and hit them with clubs. They went down without a sound. We sighed in relief.

        I looked at the others. They had all entered the house, so they were not aware of our deed. We quickly donned their robes, pulling the hood low over our faces. We then rushed to the house passed a hooded figure at the door who simply gestured us in. As we entered, we heard the door close with a solid boom. We both winced but continued into the dank dark basement, finding the rest arranged in a circle, which we joined.

        A man with a hard, Aryan face walked to the center. He made several gestures at the points of the compass. His hair was white, his eyes were blue. Hard, unsympathetically blue. He began to speak in a stentorian voice.

        "John of Revelation said that the Christ would come with sword to judge the wicked, the perverse. The adulterers, the pedophiles, the whores. The ones who deny us our rightful place as the rulers of this Christian Nation!

        "The Lake of Fire shall swallow our enemies! But, in order for the Christ to work his judgment, we must act as midwife to his judgment! This book shall be our instrument of judgment! Not only on the US, but also on the rest of the wicked world!

        "Now, we begin the spell for calling the creature! Repeat after me!"

        The cultist chanted rhythmically. It seemed to get louder, louder, until my eardrums seemed to ready to burst. At a point near the climax of the chanting, a wind blew threw the room. It whipped at our robes, as Professor Curtis watched blank faced and sad. He realized what was happening.

        He jumped up and yelled, "Stop! You don't know what forces you’re unleashing!” But he was backhanded by one of the cultist. I leaped up, but another struck me. Both of us struck the ground, and were too dazed to move.

        All I was aware of was the rising crescendo of the chant, and the ominous chant of the creatures' name. I felt a gust of wind, a hazy jumble of images, and then the building was collapsing around me. I heard human screams, and saw red splash the wall beyond. I leaned up, looking into the eye of the most horrible creature I had ever seen!

        If I say it was head surrounded by tentacles, I would not far off. But, it was far more hideous then that description could ever encompass. It glared at me, and I saw that it was growing, pushing up into the roof, and threatening the integrity of the building. It reached for me, and I only escaped a painful death because a piece of debris smashed between us, causing it to withdraw, and allowing me to scramble backwards. Professor Curtis was besides the door, trying to batter it open. I joined him in ceaselessly battering it, but it resisted our efforts.

        Then, to our surprise, it was pulled open, and we were face to face with Candy O'Neil! We stared at each other in surprise, but presently Professor Curtis grabbed her, and we all ran out into a field. Behind us was unholy bedlam.

        We stopped to rest in the field, casting our gaze backward. The building had lost its roof, and was nearly imploded into itself. The horrid monstrosity was hovering above, looking in quick, sharp glance, apparently trying to find us. We had ducked into the tall grass of the field, so we were out its line of sight. God knows what other senses it might have had to find us, but it apparently didn't use them; as it then started floating off away from us.

        The three of us breathed a sigh of relief. Candy was leaning on my shoulder in a daze.

        "What... What is that?" She asked. Professor Curtis made a silencing motion, watched to creature until it was nearly out of sight, said, "We'll tell you later."

        To me, he said "Come on." I looked at him blankly. He said "The book. I need it if we're ever going to dispel that creature." I nodded, and waited for his signal to move.

        To O'Neil I said, "You wait here."

        Professor Curtis made the signal, and the two of us hurried back to the dilapidated building. Inside, we saw what damage the creature had done, and that the Doomsday Cult had achieved their dream. At least in a personal way.

        Professor Curtis overturned debris, clearing the alter, until finally, he found the book. He was scanning it, when we heard a scream, and a noise I shall never forget as long as I live.

        I looked up just in time to see the creatures' eye looking at me, and releasing a huge mound of rubble. It struck us both, and we both passed out.

        The creature turned, and moved away from us. It obviously believed that Professor Curtis was dead and me no threat, as the book was beyond my grasp. The area around us was now blasted and unlivable.

        The creature looked around, and I saw something struggling in one of its horrible tentacles. It flicked another tentacle, and a house collapsed. The squirming thing, I now saw, was Candy O'Neil. Her reddish hair was in disarray, her clothes torn and mangled. I felt a lump in my stomach.

        I saw now the rocks beside me move, disgorging a hand. It reached for the book, found it, and pulled it close. Another heave and Professor Curtis' bloody face appeared. He painfully pulled the book closer, scanned it.

        The creature came to a violent stop, jerked around to face us. If anger could be assigned to so in descript a thing, I would think it showed it at that point. It began towards us at a fast clip, faster then anything I had seen.

        The Professor made the sign of Dunsany at it, and proclaimed a few guttural syllables I could not make out. The creature immediately halted, thrashing its hideous tentacles. Candy flew from them, and disappeared over the top of the derelict house with a shattering scream. Professor Curtis ignored it all, and intoned a spell in a loud voice, in a language I had no knowledge of. The creature thrashed some more, taking out more sections of the house in an obvious attempt to crush us permanently. Luckily, its aim, at that point, was off, or we would be skeletons under that debris, and the creature would have laid waste not only to this country, but also to the world.

        The Professor pronounced the last of the syllables in his weakening voice. As he did, the creature exhumed a thick mist, green, ghastly, and nauseous. It choked my throat.

        When the mist cleared, the creature was gone and the professor was dead.

        I was found some days later by rescue workers. They remarked that I was lucky, considering the amount of death and destruction around me. They marveled at the strength of the tornado that did this. I didn't correct them. I had no evidence that they would believe, anyway.

        The creature wouldn't have shown up on any electric devise that man had. It was of a material beyond any that humanity could comprehend or guard against. It couldn't be dispelled by anything we humans could produce. It was a horror beyond all known horrors, real or imagined. I was glad they accepted my story that Professor Curtis and I had gone to the area to investigate unusual weather patterns, and all our equipment was destroyed. I don't know what I would have said if they had interrogated me closer. I am sure I wouldn't have been allowed to return to Irmo University in my old teacher's position.

        The rescue workers found Candy O'Neil's body several yards from where we were. She had been thrown up the twisted drive, across the road, and in the yard next door. The workers again put it down to storm damage. The way her limbs were twisted and broken argued against that, but they were firm in their beliefs, and I did not wish to seem like a conspiracy theorist. I watched what little footage they showed of her funeral on TV. I mourned her in my own way.

        Charles Town road is deserted now. No one lives there now because the blasted area is detrimental to healthy sleep. A few did try to return, but left within a week. The reasons they gave were vague, but restless sleep was a recurring issue. Now, that haunted area is alone.

        I am nagged by a persistent sense of dread. The creature is gone, out of this plane, on the other side of time and space. Yet, I am haunted by the idea that someone will summon it again. The book we took out there has vanished, and none of the rescue workers knew what I was speaking off. I hope it is destroyed, along with the creature, but a part of me is haunted by thoughts of that book winding up in the hands of mad cultist, who would use the spell to summon that creature again.

        Next time, the world might not survive.