See, we ended up in a huge outcropping of massive pillars, big worn-down stone blocks. Familiar stone blocks. Blocks I swear I'd seen before, scattered with glyphs I could, surprisingly, read. My eyes scanned the spiraling marks, captivating me... and I remembered. I remembered the Great City, with these same stone blocks stacked between jungle foliage and ancient-looking trees, and great walkways present and made of wood and stone. I remembered gliding through there, under the arching canopy above made of translucent amber material like a gel. And, I remembered my mentor, alien to my eyes but familiar, one of the cone-like beings I had come to recognize, and embodied.
"Is it all you thought it would be, Neville?" It asked, three ruddy eyes turned to me, and my flesh changed a soft bluish in satisfaction and curiosity.
"Yes," I replied. "Nothing like what I've read, mind... more than that." I observed the other cone-like beings sliding between the pillars, their own eyes on tablets of stone and strange devices I could not comprehend.
"I do not expect so." It shifted to a yellowish-orange in amusement. "Though that is what we have always admired about your species - your imagination. You are often incorrect in those predictions and flights of fancy, but... on occasion... you are correct."
"Correct?"
"Oh, far more than you know. Now come, we are needed in the Great Library..."
"Neville, you okay there?" The Yank's voice snapped me from my memory, and I turned to him in confusion. "You zoned out there for a minute..."
"Whuh? Uh, yeah. Sorry, I got distracted... I just remembered something."
Now the rest were interested, and turned to look at me. Confessing, I explained that I remembered this place, I'd been here... and in the body of one of those aliens. Good news is, I didn't sound totally yarra, since they'd all seen the beings as well. Bad news is, I was interrupted halfway through by the sound of machinery moving and an engine starting not far away - and when we checked, we found yet another complication.
The entire area around the entrance of the cavern was an impromptu bunker. Sandbags and razor wire decorated the perimeters, and beyond that were both blackfellas and whitefellas with rifles, patrolling the area. Beyond, we observed jeeps and mechanical generators, and in the far distance near the cavern entrance we saw a bunkhouse. There were twelve or so people armed to the teeth, all keeping close watch on the area, and most likely, all Sand-Bat worshipers judging by the marks on their arms. The entire commune was alert to our presence, no doubt because of their failed ambush earlier - and that meant we had a serious problem on our hands.
"Okay, I have an idea," the Yank said. Oh boy, here we go again, I thought, rolling my eyes and groaning, but the others merely gave me stern looks and agreed with him. Bloody great, now they're all going to listen to him. His plan? Use the dynamite we took to create a distraction. What is with Yanks and their explosions, does it get their rocks off or something? Then, he said, we could draw the majority there, and ambush them ourselves. Okay, that was more feasible - we did have high ground, so we had an advantage. I volunteered to lay the dynamite and run, seeing as I was quickest and had the on-the-ground training, something the Yank lacked as a pilot. Enala was to go with me, as if she got caught it was likely she'd be seen as less of a threat. As for the blackfella and the Hun, they opted to take positions and prepare for ambush.
Well, I'll admit this much - the Yank's plan actually worked this time. The dynamite drew the cultists' attention easily, and none of us were spotted. But before we could initiate the ambush, we all heard an eerie, low whistling, like wind over a glass bottle... and our hearts sank.
"Get under the tarps!" I hissed, immediately dragging them from the jeeps and throwing them over the others. It was the only real protection we had from the nightmare we knew was coming, our only salvation. We were like babes hiding from the bogeyman under there, huddled and shivering from fear as the winds picked up and drowned out the sound of the cultists' screaming. They never knew what hit them, and once things subsided... well. It was like the trenches all over again. There was a lot of blood, a bunch of broken bodies, and our captive was missing - plucked, no doubt, from the ground by those same tentacles that had slaughtered Lucas. It was right eerie, let me tell you, and so suddenly quiet... but at least, we had a clear shot at the entrance into the underground, one we quickly took.
What we found were stairs, a massive set of narrow stairs leading into the earth, and along nearby them lines of lanterns embedded along the pathway. There were no rails along the edges, and the stairs were cold and slick with bat guano. There were a lot of the bastards, too - we heard them fluttering above, chittering softly, flapping their leathery wings and occasionally swooping low above our heads. And so, down we went in total silence, a cavern wall on one side and a terrible drop into the dark on the other, as if descending into Hell itself. And what we saw when we finally turned the corner... my God, it was like a kingdom beneath the Outback, one so vast and ancient that limestone drippings had sealed it into the stone itself. The buildings here had to have been thousands of years old, and they had an alien architecture and sheen, as if built for beings other than humans. The others were struck with awe, breath stolen from their lips, but for me... it was like coming home. I knew these stairs, this stone, these pathways and buildings. I had been here before.
At the base of the stairs, we found the place starkly empty for how massive it was, but a peek into the darkness gave us the answer - along distant walkways were points of light moving, reddish like the light from a torch. They were clearly tracking the pathways, guarding it, but they seemed leisurely, not expecting intrusion. We had the upper hand, so long as we kept quiet and moved silently. There was only one thing left to do to find out what had happened here, and that was to explore it.
Our first stop was in some sort of bunkhouse, four large bunker areas surrounding straight hallway on either side, and in each we found cots filled with sleeping Sand-Bat cultists. I don't know how we managed to sneak by without waking them, but we did. Not only did these bastards keep their quarters messy, but they each had personal shrines, with Sand-Bat idols created with grotesque pieces of flesh and bone I could only assume were human. The others, however, found something much more interesting, something more relevant that finally gave a name to our target - one R. H. They were two scraps of paper, notices to the cultists, each signed clearly with his name... and each telling a sordid story of the practices here.
"Anger is good, but it does not help us get any closer to resolving the problem," said Enala reassuringly, and I turned to her. "We must continue. The prisoners are likely here still, and that means they may be saved."
Then the Yank and his blackfella got looks of recognition on their faces, and the Yank spoke up. "R.H.," he puzzled, eyebrows furrowing. "R... Huston. Richard Huston. As in Dr. Huston, the man who was the shrink to that Carlyle guy that Clayton and Sarah were after... He's gotta be behind this, even Brady said she thought he was acting weird last she saw him."
"Well then, we have our target, ja?" added the Hun. "Let us not waste any more time. We must find him, and confront him."
That settled it, and deeper into the myriad tunnels under the Outback we went, into the strange city with its alien and disorienting architecture, the others nervous while I led the way, feeling confident with the familiar pathways. We first came to a sort of strange dark area, a platform with a mighty pit that seemed recently added. We heard it before we arrived, the sound of several shrieks and cries, mingled with those of babies, emanating from the depths. Sure enough, a glance downward revealed a shadowy mix of shapes, none of them human - all slithering and writhing in the most grotesque manners imaginable. What hellish beasts were down there, none of us knew or wanted to know, but it was more than enough to convince us to move on - though the sound of cultists' footsteps approaching convinced us further.
Beyond that plaza, we encountered another, this one dark and oddly squishy beneath our feet. In the distance was a diffuse reddish glow, like the dome of a light bulb, but providing little light to our current surroundings. We did not question and attempted to continue, until the Hun suddenly tripped over a raised area of the floor and a low rumbling was felt. Then he turned pale in realization, and we all felt the floor shift in a strange way, first down and then upwards slightly, expanding and contracting.
"What the hell?" the Yank said. "Ludwig, you okay?"
"Mein Gott, no," was the hushed and frightened reply, and now we were all worried. "Do you feel that motion? That is not normal, McCloud. That is breathing."
We all turned pale at that, and finally peered at the floor. Beneath our feet, just as the medic had said, was flesh. Living, breathing, moving flesh... and it had moved in response to us. I don't know what kept us sane then, but we certainly all froze until the massive beast below stopped moving, and even then we moved quickly towards the red glow once it had. I don't know if the creature ever noticed us there, but if it had it certainly didn't seem bothered by us. What bothers me most, however, is this - how enormous must have that thing been to simply not care as we walked over its flesh, rather than to swat us like flies on a camel's back?
We have made it to the Red Building now, where we have set up an impromptu camp. I call it the Red Building because I know this place, and that was the name I was given for it. It was once a meeting place for others, like myself, who had been brought to the City of the Great Race by mind-swapping to meet and share memories. They were projected from our own heads onto great screens, now riven with cracks and crumbling away. The things I saw there! Visions from the future, a future of a constant connection between all countries of the world, a future of countless strange events and terrible wars using explosive devices so powerful, they could level cities. Visions from the past, of the fight between those who came before the British did, of the Revolutionary War in America, of terrible plagues of the distant past that had claimed many. It was once a beautiful building, and now it is ruins used to house a vile cult.
Rage burns in me at the disrespect the City has seen. Don't those bastards know this place was greater than them once? Greater than any of us? Don't they realize the knowledge that is held here, and how it could connect humanity in countless ways? They don't bloody care, and they don't consider it, not a bit. Ungrateful cunts, the whole lot of them. When I get my hands on that Huston bugger, I'll make sure he knows just how much he's stolen from the Great Race... and how much he's stolen from what I now realize was, for a time, my second home.
Just you wait, Huston. Just you bloody wait.
-- Neville Harris, Coming Home (August 11th, 1928)