[Original Novel] The Black Pool, Part 19
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Previous parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18
So dry that it crumbled when stepped on. Maybe it was alive once, now only a desiccated layer of dead matter blanketing everything. Infesting it. How I wish I could at least describe it! Like billions of thin, veiny roots snaking all over every surface, merging with one another in some places and diverging in others.
Something like frayed, mistreated fabric seen up close, an irregular grid of stiff, mangled threads, but made out of congealed dust. Besides the bones embedded in the buildings around me, there were also scattered skeletal remains underfoot, including countless fractured skulls.
So there really was a whole population of humans down here. Thousands at least, though there was no telling how long ago. Soldiers, like the ones in black uniforms who shot me down? Or like the poor Russian fellow whose bones I found behind the outcropping? Or worse, native to this place. Generation after generation may have been born, lived and died here, never knowing anything else.
Soon we arrived at the center of the city, where a sight beyond all expectation took my breath away. A massive cathedral towered over me, absolutely consumed by the skeletal, threadlike substance to the point where I couldn’t discern whether some of the architectural details were deliberate, or part of the growth.
Dead center of the facade, between two rectilinear towers, was a gaping round hole. As if the church had a mouth which hung open, sucking in the noxious air. I couldn’t get a sense of scale from down here, but the hole must be at least a hundred feet across.
“Here we are” the cloaked figure declared, raspy yet warm. I stared at him. “What do you mean? Where are we?” He gestured slowly to the cathedral. “The home you seek, whether or not you know it yet. You are far from the first lonesome wanderer that I have led to this place.”
Something about how he said that make me tense up. But the last time a stranger led me to a settlement, it was at least somewhere comfortable to sleep. Somewhere with food, where I could heal my injuries.
Stomach growling, bullet wounds still burning incessantly, I rejected the nameless dread which held me back and instead helped the cloaked figure dismount. With that, the two of us proceeded to the gargantuan front doors.
“You’re lucky I found you when I did” gurgled the cloaked figure as he rapped the door’s knocker. “Time is short.” I wondered what he meant, but was too anxious about what might be inside the cathedral to press him for details.
With a long, low pitched groan, one of the doors swung open just far enough for a wary eye to peer at us through the gap. “Outlander”, it whispered in a voice dry and harsh. My escort insisted otherwise. “That’s what I thought, but I saw them reject him. Besides, aren’t we to welcome the lost? Are we not to wash their feet, to nourish them that they might join us in awaiting his coming?”
The as yet unseen doorman withdrew, unfastened a series of chains, then swung the door open just enough further that the two of us could slip inside. The interior of the cathedral was, if anything, even more bizarre than the outside.
The doorman was in fact a woman, though I could only barely tell. Her face was as I imagined my escort’s must be, based on that brief glimpse of his hand. Brittle, brown, translucent. Like a well preserved mummy.
Her lips weren’t rotted away, but withered to the point that they did nothing to cover her cracked yellow teeth. Her arms and legs were so bony and atrophied that I could scarcely understand how she moved about.
The others were the same way. Desiccated. Skin like parchment, clinging so tightly to their skulls that they could hardly be said to have faces. All wore cloaks similar to my escort’s, but with their faces exposed. When I turned to ask why, he was gone.
“There are always wanderers like yourself in need of guidance” the woman explained, sensing my confusion. “His labor is never ending. To find them, to lead them here in time for his coming.” There it was again. “Whose coming do you mean? The fellow who brought me here?”
She smiled faintly. At least I think so, the corners of her mouth turned up. “Take a seat with the others. Time is short. If you must speak to the shepherd, you may do so when he returns. But you are plainly weary from your travels, so rest.”
I did as instructed. Every architectural detail of the church interior was fashioned from bones. Major structural elements fashioned from spines, a humerus here and there much too large to come from humans, and spiral flourishes made from the radial arrangement of shoulder blades.
Then there were the skulls. Great stacks of them, comprising entire walls. As if to spectate whatever went on in this place. A bone staircase wound up and around these walls, leading to a platform suspended by chains just beneath the massive, round opening I saw on the way in.
While taking all of this in, I became aware of many sets of eyes trained on me. The black robed multitudes, seated in a circle around some flickering light I couldn’t make out from this angle. Their eyes followed me as I sought out someplace to sit.
When I did, they parted so I could at last see whatever it was that so enraptured them. To my astonishment, it was an old fashioned television set. The case faded and stained, falling apart but still functional.
“How is there electricity?” I asked. They said nothing, just returned their gaze one by one to the television screen. Beneath it sat a video cassette player, also deteriorated enough that it surprised me it still worked.
On the flickering picture tube I saw scenes of nature. Just barely. The tape was by now so thoroughly worn out from repeated use that the picture quality was terrible. Washed out, faded and grainy, colors so distorted that the grass and trees only appeared green during rare moments of clarity.
But still, they watched. Engrossed by the imagery on the screen, and as I watched them, I understood why. A meager but precious reminder of the world they once knew. The world many of them were likely torn from long ago.
When the tape ended, there was a flurry of activity as they fought over who would rewind it. “Hurry, hurry” one of them urged, “I want to see it again!” Of course I thought, I’m sure they all do. “Settle down” an elder admonished them. “Remember, the time draws near when we’ll all see it with our own eyes.”
...Come again? I begged for clarification. They only looked at me, some smiling faintly as the woman at the door did earlier. What? What is it? What does it mean? How maddening that they would receive me, yet continue to treat me like an outsider.
Why should I do as I was told? Why should I remain here if my every attempt to learn more about what sort of people they are, and what sort of place this is, will only be met with indifferent silence? I was about to stand up and tell them off when I felt the first tremor.
I wasn’t the only one. The rest all perked up in their seats, pupils dilated, withered lips contorted into so many wide grins. “He comes”, one of them whispered. The next tremor felt slightly stronger, as did the one after it.
“He comes! Were you not told that the time is near? That the very hour of deliverance is at hand? You who have waited longest, and you-” he gestured to me. “-who have only just arrived. Let he who still doubts on this, the final eve, remain a doubter! Let those doubters be left behind as we, the patient and faithful, go on to our reward!”
The rest clapped, laughed and chattered excitedly to one another as the tremors continued to intensify. Around me, the bones began to rattle with each impact. Something’s getting closer, I felt sure of it. Something big.
The cloaked multitudes stood up from their seats, abandoning the little television which was so important to them a moment ago, and began ascending the stairs. Single file, orderly and quiet, but with expressions of wild excitement on their faces.
Stay Tuned for Part 20!