"We don't have space, not for two more." Anacletus' brow furrowed as he thought. "The best we could do is leave them with better weapons and some of our provisions, not unless they have some sort of transport of their own. We'll drive through the night."
Bruce nodded.
What followed was a long terse night of winding through torturous rock-strewn backroads, past the burnt out-husks of small mountain towns and opulent houses built by wealthy Denverites and Californians decades ago. Caius switched seats with Vladimirius. Occasionally the Adventians would consult with Bruce in hushed tones, trying not to wake the girl, who had curled up in her seat and gone to sleep shortly after they had started moving again. It was the only time Anacletus had seen her truly at peace.
The Condor coasted to a halt just as dawn filtered over the ragged edge of the ridge above. Downslope and East, across a long snow-covered meadow stood an old decrepit cabin, a slender column of smoke from the chimney the only sign that it was populated. The assault vehicle stayed just within the line of trees, out of the line of sight from the air and from the ancient cabin. Anacletus yawned and stretched as best he could in the cramped confines of the cabin.
"Bruce, Vladimirius, we should check out the cabin. Caius, stay back and be ready to take off if anything happens."
The Knights-Apprentice opened the hatch, and cold crisp winter air rushed in.
It was very still.
Yi'Tzta-Alk, or The Throne of Dagon (Formerly Huntington Beach, CA)
The man who had once been Jason Vorhees, insurance salesman, stood in review as an army marched by, loudly revelling in its own might. Battalion upon battalion of armored cultists and personnel carriers rumbled north up Highway 1. The High Priest stood on a platform embedded on the sand, far above the measured tread of his troops, his hands spread in blessing. Around him, acolytes and worshippers partook of chemical and physical pleasures with ecstatic abandon. There was no shame in the light of the Great Ones.
Many had died. This the High Priest knew. Many had died, but so many more had embraced the realities of the new universe, unleashing their darkest desires and reveling in freedom. The earth still supported many billions, most compacted into great city-camps where the Elder Gods had made their Thrones. Here, in what had been the City of Angels, Dagon had made his throne. And soon, the Children of Dagon should be joining them...
Yes. The surface of the Pacific all along the beach rippled, then parted as thousands of Deep Ones emerged. Some marched, some waddled. Blinking in the light of the overcast sun. They were simply here out of respect for the High Priest, and for Dagon their Father. They would swim the many miles to their objective, a separate arm of an enormous pincer movement. A great amorphous shape thrashed and flailed in their midst, eyes and mouths and pseudopods forming and unforming as it crawled onto dry land, flowing like water.
The promised shoggoth. A formidable engine of destruction.
Jason Vorhees spread his hands wider and raised them high as the monstrosities streamed below, cheering and raising their crude weapons high, some pausing to snatch or ogle human specimens from among the countless cheering throngs. Interbreeding was a celebrated act of devotion to Dagon in this city, and the High Priest smiled as he watched the proceedings. He could feel their frenetic energy wash over him.
They would march and swim North, even as vessels from the fleet converged in orbit to support them, and their objective would fall. This 'Last City' that had so long gone undealt-with would finally fall.
They would take it.
They would take Portland, and the City of Roses would join the world in dancing to the ecstatic madness of the gods.