Johansen and his men landed at a sloping mud-bank on this monstrous Acropolis. They climbed slipperily up over titan oozy blocks. Even the sun seemed distorted. The menace was lurking in the corners of this carven rock.
It was Rodriguez the Portuguese[62] who climbed up the foot of the monolith. He shouted of what he found. The rest followed him. They looked curiously at the immense carved door with the squid-dragon bas-relief. It was, Johansen said, like a great barn-door. But they could not decide whether it lay flat like a trap-door[63] or slantwise like an outside cellar-door. As Wilcox said, the geometry of the place was all wrong. The sea and the ground were not horizontal, because the relative position of everything else seemed phantasmally variable.
Briden pushed at the stone in several places without result. Then Donovan studied the edge and pressed each point separately. He climbed along the grotesque stone moulding. The door was impossibly vast. Then, very softly and slowly, the acre-great panel began to go down; and they saw that it was balanced. Everyone watched the queer recession of the monstrously carven portal. In this prismatic distortion it moved in a diagonal way.
The aperture was black. The odour that rose from the newly opened depths was intolerable. Hawkins thought he heard a nasty, slopping sound down there. Everyone listened. Everyone was listening still when It appeared. It gropingly squeezed Its gelatinous green immensity through the black doorway into the tainted outside air of that poison city of madness[64].
Of the six men who never reached the ship, two died of fear immediately. The Thing cannot be described. There is no language for such abysms of shrieking and immemorial lunacy[65]. It contradicted all matter, force, and cosmic order. A mountain walked or stumbled. God! No wonder that across the earth a great architect went mad, and poor Wilcox raved with fever in that telepathic instant. The Thing of the idols, the green, sticky spawn of the stars, awaked to claim his own[66]. The stars were right again. What an age-old cult failed to do, a band of innocent sailors did by accident. After millions of years great Cthulhu was loose again. And It was ravening for delight.
The flabby claws swept three men up before anybody turned. They were Donovan, Guerrera, and Angstrom. Parker slipped as the other three were running to the boat. Johansen swears he was swallowed up by a masonry. When Briden and Johansen reached the boat, and pulled desperately for the Alert, the mountainous monstrosity flopped down the slimy stones and was floundering at the edge of the water.
Slowly, amidst the distorted horrors of that indescribable scene, the Alert began to sail. Then on the masonry of that shore great Cthulhu slid greasily into the water and began to pursue. Briden looked back and went mad. He was laughing till death found him one night in the cabin while Johansen was wandering deliriously.
But Johansen did not surrender. He knew that the Thing could surely overtake the Alert. So he set the engine for full speed, and reversed the wheel. The brave Norwegian drove his vessel head on against the pursuing jelly. The awful squid-head came to the bowsprit but Johansen drove on relentlessly.
There was a horrific bursting as of an exploding bladder, a stench as of a thousand opened graves. There was a sound that the chronicler could not put on paper. For an instant the ship was hidden by an acrid green cloud. And God in heaven! The distance widened every second as the Alert gained impetus from its mounting steam.
That was all. After that Johansen only watched the idol in the cabin and prepared some food for himself and the laughing maniac. He did not try to navigate, for he was completely exhausted. Then came the storm of April 2nd. He lost his consciousness.
One day came rescue the Vigilant, the vice-admiralty court, the streets of Dunedin, and the long voyage back home to the old house. He did not tell anything. Everybody would call him mad. He wrote of what he knew before death came. Death will be a boon if only it deletes the memories.
That was the document I read. Now I placed it in the tin box beside the bas-relief and the papers of Professor Angell. This record of mine will be placed with them. I do not think my life will be long. As my uncle went, as poor Johansen went, so I shall go. I know too much, and the cult still lives.
Cthulhu still lives, too, I suppose, again in that chasm of stone which shielded him since the sun was young. His accursed city is sunken once more. I know it because the Vigilant sailed over the spot after the April storm; but his ministers on earth still bellow and prance and slay around idol-capped monoliths in lonely places. Who knows the end? What rose may sink. What sank may rise. It waits and dreams in the deep, and decay spreads over the tottering cities of men. A time will come but I must not and cannot think about it! Let me pray that, if I do not survive this manuscript, my executors let nobody read this.
Howard Phillips Lovecraft
At the Mountains of Madness
I
I dont want to tell the reasons why I oppose the invasion of the Antarctic with its vast fossil hunt and its melting of the ancient ice caps. But I must do so. I can understand clearly that my story will seem extravagant and incredible. But there are photographs, both ordinary and aerial, and they will help me. They are vivid and graphic. Of course, some people can say that it is all fakery. And there are ink drawings, but somebody may laugh at them and call them obvious impostures.
I must rely on the judgment and standing of the few scientific leaders. They have, on the one hand, sufficient independence of thought. On the other hand, they have sufficient influence to deter the exploring world in general from any over-ambitious program[67] in the region of those mountains of madness. It is pity that[68] ordinary men like myself and my colleagues are connected only with a small university. Thats why we have little chance to make an impression in the controversial matters[69].
In the strictest sense, we are not specialists in these fields. Miskatonic University[70] sent me as a geologist. The aim of our expedition was to secure deep-level specimens of rock and soil from various parts of the Antarctic continent. We had a remarkable drill that was designed by Professor Frank H. Pabodie[71] of our engineering department. I hoped, as a geologist, that this new mechanical device will discover the materials, unacceptable by the ordinary methods of collection. And I had no wish to be a pioneer in any other field than this.
Pabodies drilling apparatus was unique and radical in its lightness, portability, and capacity. Only three sledges carried steel head, jointed rods[72], gasoline motor, collapsible wooden derrick[73], dynamiting paraphernalia[74], cords, rubbish-removal auger[75], and sectional piping for bores five inches wide and up to one thousand feet deep. This was possible due to aluminum alloy used by Pabodie. Four large aeroplanes were able to transport our entire expedition from a base at the edge of the great ice barrier to various inland points.
We planned to explore a great area in one season. We were operating mostly in the mountain ranges and on the plateau south of Ross Sea[76]. These were regions explored by Shackleton, Amundsen, Scott, and Byrd[77]. We expected to get a quite unprecedented amount of material especially in the pre-Cambrian[78] strata. We wished also to obtain a variety of the upper fossiliferous rocks. The primal life history of this realm of ice and death is of the highest importance to our knowledge of the earths past. The Antarctic continent was once temperate and even tropical. We hoped to expand that information about its flora and fauna in variety, accuracy, and detail.