"I'll stay then and take a look around inside, see if I can find anything useful in all the detritus that got left behind when they closed whatever this used to be."
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"Smells like molten rubber or something very similar, one of my previous labs was situated right next to a tyre manufacturer and the smell pervaded everything. As for food, worst comes to the worst I think between us we can maybe fashion some snares, catch some rabbits and if not them their longer tailed cousins."
James wrinkles his nose at familiar smell wafting from behind the buildings but ignores it for the moment. Climbing to his feet, he scrambles down the hill to where Daniel holds the door open, trying his best to keep a low profile just in case any locals are nearby.
Using the opportunity provided by the stop, James opens his briefcase and begins methodically sorting through the bird's nest of papers and notes that now fill it. Smoothing the sheets as best he can and putting them back into a rough sort of order. He also takes the opportunity to reload his pistol before clipping the briefcase shut and leaning against the trunk of the tree to await the return of the others.
"While finding out what this cult is up to seems an eminently good idea I can't imagine we'll be very welcome in the village, and being the only real strangers in town it is going to be exceedingly hard to keep a low profile."
Throwing himself forward to get away from the bloody mess of his would be attacker James manages to step straight into a rabbit hole, sending himself flat on his face and wrenching something in his leg. Pulling his foot free, he struggles back to his feet but sharp pain courses up and down his leg when he puts weight on it and he can barely walk. Limping painfully toward freedom, James fires another shot over his shoulder too scared to look back and aim properly.
James trips again on a protruding tree root and slams to his hands and knees, only barely able to keep hold of his pistol. Struggling back to his feet he sends another shot in the direction of their pursuers and stumbles on toward the sunlight.
Daniel may not be getting anywhere, but James may have just gotten rid of his closest threat and given him a bit of breathing room.
James gets himself untangled from the latest piece of underbrush and continues to flee, pausing again once he has gained enough distance to turn and fire again at the closest Goatman.
Again James gets tangled in the underbrush and as the mad laughter/gibbering grows louder he turns and fires at the nearest Goatman.
James finally finds his balance and continues to flee from the Goatmen, not taking the risk of stopping to fire at them with so little distance for them to close.
A tree branch appears out of nowhere and tangles in James' shirt, yanking him off his feet and causing him to waste precious time untangling himself. Glancing behind him he blanches at how close the gibbering monstrosities are and hurries to catch up with his companions.
"I've got a pistol, I'll keep to the left of the group."
James flinches away from advancing goatmen, his theories and logic providing his mind with little protection even when they are proved true.
Catching sight of the things in the trees, James makes his way as rapidly as possible back around the pit to where the rest of the group are crowded. With the situation very rapidly deteriorating James does what he always does in a bad spot, resorts to logically analysing the situation and developing theories to explain it to himself. "In case any of you haven't spotted them, a group of pale humanoids is approaching us through the trees. From what I can observe they are mostly human in aspect, the notable differences being a very awkward gait and their apparent lack of clothing. From these two outliers I postulate that they are not entirely human and are perhaps an amalgam of human and animal traits, hence the difficulty with human movement and the lack of attire. Additionally, Wilbur who appears to have lead us into this ambush had an animal aspect to his features and I tentatively theorise that he may be in some way related to the figures that now approach." He only just resists the urge to pull a notebook from his briefcase and begin furiously scribbling down his fledgeling theories and instead tucks the briefcase against one of the standing stones and braces his pistol hand with his now free offhand.
"Why does it feel as if Wilbur might have lead us straight from the frying pan and into the fire?" James snaps open his briefcase and pulls out his pistol, racking the slide to chamber a round and cock the hammer before flicking the safety off and holding it pointed at the ground in his free hand. He then backs up against one of the standing stones and stares off down the hill, eyes searching for any sign of an attack.
"I do apologise, memory like a sieve when it comes to names and relations." James looks round to ask Wilber the question but can't seem to see him. He assumes the strange young man must be just out of sight on the other side of the stones and heads around the circle to find him.
James watches with trepidation as Reggie sifts through the ashes, but stays out of the pit some small instinctual part of his brain keeping hims from passing through the standing stones. "Don't think the local coppers are going to be much use, at least one of them if not more are part of the cult we're out here running from in the first place. And hate to be the man to ask, but did your grandma have any bridgework by any chance?"
James shudders as his mind recoils from Wilbur's words, but he quickly recovers and stares in astonishment at the rapidly retreating bear. "I have no idea what Wilbur just did and I've never heard something like that come out of a man's mouth before, but it seemed effective at least. Professor, you got any idea what just happened?"
James retrieves his briefcase from where he had set it down to fiddle with the engine and stands ready to depart. "By all accounts these two legged goats and Mrs Hobbes have quite a headstart, so let us be off before the trail goes entirely cold."
"I have a reasonable knack with electronics and I think that should transfer rather well to the simple task of hotwiring a truck. Give me a moment and I should have it running." James flips the cover off the engine and spends a few moments with his arms thrust deep into the trucks workings, groping for the wires to the starter motor (or whatever it is really old cars used) and messing around with a look of deep concentration.
James awakes late and spends a few minutes jotting down what he can remember of his dreams, a habit that had helped him solve a surprising number of issues with his research in the past. He then changes into a fresh shirt and smooths out his rumpled suit as best he can before tucking his notebook back into his briefcase and exiting his room. He notes that everyone appears to be very interested in Mrs. Hobbes' room but turns his attention to the left hand corridor that had looked so interesting the previous night. He taps gently on the great iron door, trying to guage it's thickness and puzzled as to why such a secure portal would be needed in a family home.
Pretty much the moment he closes the door to his room James slumps onto the bed and is only just able to undress before sleep takes him. His dreams are a strange affair, flashes of what he saw in the basement interspersed with the usual landscape of geometric shapes and fractal trees filled with people from his past.
James glances with interest down the left hand corridor but thinks better of exploring and instead chooses a room for himself.
James cocks an eyebrow at the very obvious lie but chooses to remain diplomatic. "Indeed? Such a shame to put books to such a base task and doubly so with such a fascinating collection of tomes. But I suppose needs must when the devil drives and other such fitting idioms."
James tucks his depleted bill fold away and heads inside, staring with genuine interest at the arcane symbols covering all the flat surfaces and then heading over to examine the books that Daniel had passed over. Spotting one of the volumes with a Spanish title, he picks it up and flicks through the first few pages to get an idea of the contents.
James steps forward and pulls one of the few remaining 50$s from his billfold, holding it up for the unpleasant old man to see. "How about I supplement the payment and we can all come in?"
"Can't keep the others waiting.."
"I think I'll make up the numbers in the first group, I have some practice with my pistol but I am sure I am no match for Dr. Alden's marksmanship."
James jogs up the stairs and flicks on a few of the bedroom lights before taking a peek out the window and then heading back down to join the others, he also turns Mrs Hobbes radio on and cranks the volume up just enough that it would be audible from outside the house. "Right then, that might keep the boy thinking we are still in the house for a while. Shall we be off? And I am sure some of the stronger members of the group can assist Mrs Hobbes if she starts to flag."
"If the situation becomes dire enough that our only option is too flee I can probably get a car started without too much trouble. I'll leave driving it to someone else however. For the moment I agree with Victor that Mrs. Hobbes will be much safer with all of us than with only one protector, however tenacious he may be. Safety in numbers and all that." Following Victor's lead, James retrieves his own pistol from his briefcase and chambers a round before making certain that the safety is still on. He then moves to follow Victor, keeping his pistol hidden with his jacket and nervously scanning the surrounds of the house for any signs of their apparent enemies.
"I'd add my vote for heading for the Whateley Farm, staying in a building with lockable or at least barricadable doors sounds a much better idea than camping out in the woods somewhere. As to our 'troubles' as you so delicately describe them Daniel, I don't think they'll be ending until we finally find a way to leave Dunwich."
"I had thought I'd go have a looksee at the distribution centre, bit of a dab hand with electronics y'see. But if everyone else is going off to find a car I don't wish to find myself stranded in dunwich alone, so I think I'll join you." James picks up his briefcase and follows after the rest of his new found companions in weirdness.
"Good afternoon Mrs. Hobbes. I do apologise for keeping what I am sure are most delightful sandwiches waiting, but we got a tad distracted on our return journey from the bus and ended up stopping in at Mr Osbourne's establishment for a bite to eat. Perhaps you could save the sandwiches for later? It appears that our little group may be staying in Dunwich a little longer than expected and I am sure we will grow peckish later in the day." James studiously ignores the mention of police sirens, not wanting to have to explain their source. "While our dietary needs are for the moment met, but perhaps Mrs. Hobbes you could help us in another fashion? As we are remaining in Dunwich for at least another day we are in somewhat dire need of a telephone. Unfortunately there appears to have been some form of mishap with the distributing centre and the phonelines are down. Would you happen to know where in the village said distributing centre is, so that we might enquire as to the timeframe for its repair?"
"A saboteur does seem likely, what with the whole odd situation we seem to have found ourselves in. No matter though, luck favours the bold and all that so back to the batty old lady with the dog, whose name has escaped me for the moment." James strides off down the street and across the village to the house they'd all stayed in the night before.
James waves politely at the watching officer before quite conciously turning his back to him. "I could just pop back in to Mr Osbourne's establishment and enquire, my little gift may have made him a tad more amenable to any questions I might have. That is unless you distrust Mr Osbourne, in which case we find ourselves in a bit of a quandry. The only other option that comes readily to mind would be that seemingly nice old lady that took us all in last night and she did not seem like the type to be up on the state of modern telephonic technologies."
James very carefully and slowly reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out his billfold. He approaches the shop counter and places a crisp 50$ note atop Mr Osbourne's shotgun. "For any inconvenience Mr Cummings' little outburst caused. I hope there are no hard feelings between our little group and your fine self." Tucking the billfold back into his pocket and taking a moment to settle his suit James heads for the door and holds it open for his fellow stranded travellers. "Very well then, shall we vacate the good Mr Osbourne's premises before Mr Miller needs to be called back?"
James adds his voice to Daniel's, trying to force reason to prevail over the sudden madness.
Diplomacy With his pistol safely locked inside his briefcase James sees no need to hand it over or to mention to officer Miller that he does in fact even own a firearm.
James leans in surreptitiously to read the note and frowns slightly before deepening the expression as he thinks about his new situation. "I'll have to telephone New York as well. I see it as increasingly likely that the job that was my reason to take this bus journey in the first place will not be waiting for me when I finally arrive there. As for what we do in the next few days. First order of business is to phone the bus company, second is to retrieve our belongings from said bus and storing them somewhere possibly slightly more secure. Other than that I am open to suggestion."
James too declines the offer of a drink and takes a seat opposite the detective. The man reminded him of one of the G-men who had visited him after the accident, impeccably well dressed but with the eyes of a predator and the uncomfortable feeling he could pounce at any second. "We assumed a gas was the cause of Henri's madness due to the fact that at least two of our number experienced hallucinations upon entering the cellar containing the bodies. They saw the other members of the group transform into monsters and felt an overwhelming fear that all those around them were trying to kill them. Henri too was raving about demons and how he had saved his family from them before he commited suicide. From these two facts we extrapolated that some substance, most likely a gas was affecting both us and the late Henri. Also, to answer your query about the lack of a gas tank, there have been many recorded cases of cellars in places such as Cornwall, England containing dangerous buildups of dense gases such as Argon which have lead to accidental deaths or explosions. This could be a similar case but with some kind of naturally occuring hallucinogen."
"Lets hope they didn't assume we strange outsiders were somehow culpable for the murders at the farm, eh? That would be dashed unfortunate."
James polishes off the last of his burger and then spends a few moments fastidiously cleaning off his mouth and brushing any stray sesame seeds. Tucking his handkerchief away he nods in agreement with Victor's suggestion. "That is a most excellent suggestion. I find a walk after a meal always helps with digestion. I'll just pay for the burgers and we can be away." Standing and fishing his billfold from his pocket, James pulls out enough notes to cover the burgers and a mildly generous tip and places them on the plate the food had arrived on.
"I think it would be most helpful if you could furnish us with some kind of basic grounding in the occult and in particular the odd occurances in Dunwich and its surroundings. To put it crudely we are up s~+& creek without a paddle and would very much like to be provided with even the roughest example of one."
"Dr James Chilcott, very good to meet you sir." James shakes the professors hand. "As Charlie said, we've rather been thrown in the deepend as far as oddities go. Any help you could provide in resolving the situation would be most welcome." James adds his description of what he saw in the cellar to Charlie's description of the situation.
James takes a swig from his own bottle, savouring the taste of the cool beer before answering Mr. Cummings question.
James had been quiet on the way back to Dunwich, absorbed in trying to find some way to twist his recent experiences into a believable reason that he would be not appearing for his first day of work at a new lab. It being increasingly obvious that they would not be leaving Dunwich any time in the near future, at least not without contacting the bus company.
"If Dr. Alden is providing the beverages the least I can do is to provide the food, especially after not really helping with the search for our mysteriously disappeared bus driver. As to said driver, I fear we will have to contact the bus company and inform them of his disappearance. Informing the police would probably be prudent as well even though I don't think they'll be much use if their detective skills at the farm house were anything to go by."
James tries spends a few moments trying to form an image of what he had seen through the hole in the basement, but the image will not come together, as if his well ordered brain could not accept what it had seen. With a sigh of exasperation James gives in to the fickle nature of human physiology and just describes the things as best he can.
When the car arrives at the bus James waits impatiently for the others to exit the back seat before clambering out himself and hurrying over to the deserted vehicle. While the others search the surrounding grass and enter the bus itself, James heaves open the luggage compartment and slides out a battered black travelling trunk with a hefty looking padlock holding it shut. He fishes a key from his pocket and removes the lock before throwing the lid open and hauling a great handful of clothes and dumping them on the dusty ground. A look of huge relief floods his features and he reaches into the trunk and heaves out an arcane mess of cables and pipes wrapped around and fed into a thck walled pressure containment vessel. He hugs it to his chest as most people would a beloved child before nestling it back in his trunk and recovering it with his piled clothes.
"We were stranded in Dunwich yesterday when our bus threw a tire taking a shortcut along the Miskatonic. We spent the night and were getting a lift back to the bus wih Mr. Cummings here when we heard gunshots and stopped to investigate. Now, if you'll just follow me I'll show you the cemetary." James leads the policemen to the cemetary gate and then stands quietly aside as they do whatever they need to.
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