Alan and Fletcher stood on the wooden porch of the cottage, breathing deeply the crisp air and appraising the view offered to them of Shadow Lake visible through the stand of trees that pushed toward its edge. About the house, stray wisps of mist lingered but were departing slowly in a direction that led toward the nearby marsh.
“As I thought,” remarked Alan. “The mist is not dissipating in the air as one would expect; it actually maintains its nebulous form as it makes its retreat.”
“Precisely,” returned Fletcher. “I’ve contended all along that it’s not a material mist that dissolves into the air as unseen vapor.”
“Well, if we are to learn more, it’s obvious we must follow it, although there’s little doubt in my mind—nor yours, I’m sure—as to where it’s going.”
Leaving the porch, the two men followed the vaporous trails around the cottage, away from the lake, towards the decline that led to the swampy area. Long strides carried them through the tract of hardwood trees along the heights overlooking the dismal marsh. The air was crisp and clear, but mist could still be seen in faint, wispy trails.
Soon they stood upon the crest of the rise overlooking the marsh, where it seemed as though they were on the rim of a gigantic soup bowl. Below, the mist seemed to be more compact, appearing as might a soft, gray carpet moving away from them. It massed together in impregnable shrouds, flowing and converging toward a distant point. “It’s almost,” observed Fletcher, “as though someone pulled the plug in a gigantic circular bathtub and everything is going down the drain.”
“An apt simile,” agreed Alan.
Stray wisps constricted harmlessly about their ankles as they walked along the embankment circling the marsh, imprinting a temporary path on the dew-moist grasses that stretched across the side of the knoll.
“I don’t think I’ve noticed it before, Mr. Hasrad, but it seems to me the mist is thicker… more compact, perhaps… no longer the flimsy, silky wisps we’ve been following. Now it’s so thick we can’t see the ground beneath it.”
“You’re absolutely right,” Alan agreed, “and I think I can venture an explanation. It’s my guess that this entity had, at one time, a solid body that was probably miles in length and width and height—but it has not fed, has literally been starved for many, many millions of years and has, as a result, lost a considerable portion of its bulk. Rather than shrinking in size, its dimensions have remained the same, but the atoms composing it are so wide apart that it has this hazy, unsubstantial mist-like appearance.”
“Are you suggesting that it thickens as it feeds?”
“Exactly! And I further believe that if nothing is done to stop it, if it is left to continue unchecked, it will one day be a solid mass large enough to cover the entire countryside for miles around!”
Minutes passed and each step took them further away from the cottage on the knoll closer to the other side of the swamplands. They did not enter the marsh itself, as this was unnecessary, but traveled along its clearly defined edge, high above the patches of stagnant water and silently waiting ooze.
“It’s headed toward the cave, all right,” Fletcher exclaimed, beginning to breathe more heavily, following Alan as he led the way around a fallen log. “It’s not very far ahead now.”
A hundred feet further along found them at a point overlooking the cave to their right; off to their left they could see the sun advance over the distant horizon and delicately touch the leaden-colored Miskatonic River, winding serenely on its way in the far distance. Returning their gaze to the right, they could see the gray mist converge from all over upon a single point in the hillside. What they saw came not as a surprise, but the shock of realization that they had been correct held them spellbound for some moments.
“We were right, Alan… Mr. Hasrad,” affirmed Fletcher very softly. “It’s draining right into the cave.”
“And it seems,” Alan observed, “we haven’t arrived too soon. In a couple of minutes it will all be gone—all funnelled into that horrible cave, down the shaft you unwittingly opened, to its prison created eons past by the Elder Gods—if certain ancient writings speak the truth. Do you realize, Professor, that beneath us, down incredibly far, is probably a hollow chamber that must stretch for miles in each direction, large enough to contain all the mist that has been covering the countryside?”
Fletcher nodded. “I suppose so… but come,” he urged, “while there is still time to see what happens.”
Most of the mist had disappeared into the hillside, and only stray, tattered remnants remained pursuing the main ranks, as the two scrambled and slipped in haste down the incline. There was no need for Fletcher to point out the precise location of the hidden cavern for the mist was guide enough. As water spirals down a basin drain, so did the mist appear to swirl into the concealed opening of the hill. Moving the branches aside that concealed the entrance, several of them broken, they peered through the ancient maw.
With no hesitation they parted and passed through the remaining bushes into the cool, dank blackness of the cave; inside, they snapped on the large flashlights they carried. They stood near the entrance and surveyed the cavern which ran back perhaps thirty feet into the hillside, ending in a blank wall broken by a shadowy opening. Along the floor and through this aperture flowed the remaining tendrils of fragile, hazy mist. Alan guided his light about the low-vaulted roof that pressed downward and along the irregular rock walls and rubble-covered floor. All in all, it was a wildly unnatural aspect that met their gaze.
Slowly they advanced to the back wall where gaped the forced entrance made by Fletcher more than a month ago. Alan led the way, scrambling through the opening into the small chamber it once had concealed, closely followed by his companion. Their lights revealed the pit, half-covered by a large, flat star-shaped stone. Above them, the cavern formed a low arch, hardly high enough to permit them to stand erect. Little of the mist now remained, but what was left was making its way into the opening.
“No doubt about it now, Dr. Fletcher. This is where it retreats during the daylight hours after its nightly feed is ended.”
Fletcher slowly nodded. “Indeed, yes. The question now is how to keep it down there… permanently!”
“That hopefully will not be as difficult as you might imagine,” ventured Alan, kneeling at the edge of the shaft. He moved his light about the smooth tube-like opening into the earth and watched the thinly dispersed mist flow over the edge and make its descent. Abruptly, Alan had a thought and withdrew from his pocket a tiny medicine bottle all but empty. He shook from it a few capsules, which he placed into his pocket, then held the open bottle near the shaft.
“Just what,” Fletcher wanted to know, “are you doing?”
Alan gazed up at him with a strained grin. “Oh, just indulging an idle fancy. Silly, eh?”
“And what did you mean by suggesting there might be no problem in sealing this horror up again?”
“I meant that we can return things to the condition they were before you first entered this place.” As Alan spoke, he carefully examined the rock slab that had covered the opening of the shaft. It was obviously not a formation created by nature, and he was equally certain it had never been constructed by man. Radiating points gave it the unquestionable form of a star. It was only about four inches thick, relieving it of what might have been considerable weight, and its circular diameter of at least three feet was more than enough to effectively cover the hole. Alan’s light licked over the covering, which he dusted off, revealing curious lines etched onto the surface of what he took to be a seal.