Godzilla vs. Cthulhu
By C. L. Werner
VII
Godzilla snarled in defiance, being startled when the countless mouths of the shoggoth attempted to mimic the sound in a maddening chorus. Angered, the great reptile spat radioactive death at the shoggoth. The protean horror writhed in pain as its black substance sloughed away where the atomic fire had scorched it. Now it was the shoggoth which was angered.
The amoebalike creature reared up into the sky, a pillar of flesh, legions of eyes staring into those of Godzilla, score of mouths snapping in rage. Before Godzilla could act, the black pillar toppled, falling upon Godzilla, covering him in a blanket of living darkness. The observers upon the fleeing police launch could see Godzilla struggling beneath the mass of eyes and mouths as though the reptile were a dog trapped beneath a sheet.
Godzilla's brain screamed in pain, his lungs fought for air. Hundreds of mouths tore into his scaly hide. As Godzilla opened his mouth in a bid to fill his lungs, the shoggoth's formless substance rushed into his throat, filling it completely. Godzilla's movements were becoming slower, his struggles less fierce. Soon, he would be dead and the shoggoth would absorb the reptile's body.
Late night revellers in Yokohama were startled by the brilliant flash which flickered briefly in far-off Tokyo Bay. They could not know that it was the final ploy of a dying monster. His very lungs filling with the biting mass of the shoggoth, Godzilla unchained the nuclear fury of his giant frame. Atomic energy erupted from his hide in a brilliant pulse of radioactive annihilation. The shoggoth, its age older than the shores of Japan, found death in that pulse, its black mass shattered like glass, hurled in a hundred directions like lifeless chunks of jelly to drift upon the waves until the morning sun evaporated their alien substance.
Godzilla did not roar in triumph. Even a victory cry was beyond his torn and weakened body. The battle with the shoggoth had been swift but terrible. Like a weary child, Godzilla sank into the depths to sleep and heal.
*****
Hours after Natanaka's escape, I was summoned to an emergency meeting of the JSDF and "top men" from the United States. So urgent was my presence required that the doctors had to finish tending my wounds in the car on the way to the meeting.
I recognised many of the Japanese seated at the oval table in the long meeting hall from news footage of the war to stop Godzilla. The Americans, however, presented a curious assemblage of military and civilian personnel. Director Serizawa of the UNGCC rose and introduced me to the assembled men. A studious-looking American then rose and, through a translator, questioned me about my investigation of the Watchers on the Shore. I surprised him by answering in English. When I had finished recounting Natanaka's escape and the battle in the bay, it was my turn to ask questions.
"Sir," I said, "I have answered all of your questions, please answer some of mine."
"I think that is a reasonable request," replied the American much to the chagrin of the general seated at his side.
"First, who are you and what is your business with Natanaka? I gather that Take Hidemasa was one of your men?"
"Indeed he was. Had he not been murdered, we wouldn't need your report, Detective Yamamoto. As for who we are, the U. S. government has been aware of the tremendous evil which threatens to annihilate all human life on this planet for some time. The Miskatonic Project is dedicated to combating that evil wherever it manifests itself. Our victories are small, amounting to little more than sticking our fingers in the dike, but we have, if not actually defeated that evil, then at least we have prevented deranged madmen from awakening that evil prematurely. Mankind is still here and the Great Old Ones still sleep thanks to our efforts."
"What are these 'Great Old Ones', Doctor…"
"Ashtree, my name is Ashtree, but it is Professor, not Doctor. As for the Great Old Ones, that is a broad label placed upon monstrous alien entities of colossal power who ruled the Earth before even the dinosaurs were born. Climactic changes, opposing aliens, or perhaps even the shifting of distant stars caused these beings to be forced into hibernation until conditions would again be favourable for them."
"And what is the connection of these Great Old Ones to Akira Natanaka?"
"Let me answer that question with one of my own. Did you ever hear Natanaka invoke the name 'Cthulhu'?"
A shudder passed through my body as I heard the horrible guttural slither from Professor Ashtree's tongue. I had heard that inhuman name once before. It had featured in the incantation Natanaka had used to summon the shoggoth in his hour of need. Professor Ashtree continued after I had told him this.
"Natanaka's 'Lord of Dreams' was no less than Cthulhu. The sorcerer was too crafty to openly flaunt the nature of his cult's god, but there can be no question. Your testimony, the statements of the more rational cultists who have been captured and … other factors confirm this." Professor Ashtree paused, as though trying to decide whether I should hear what he would say. After a moment, he opened a briefcase that had rested by the side of his chair and took from it a large packet of mimeographed pages.
"This is a copy of a very ancient book which is held in a locked room of the library of Arkham's Miskatonic University. The original is far too dangerous to travel abroad, so I take with me an abridged copy." Professor Ashtree removed a pair of antique reading spectacles from his vest and began to read:
"That is not dead which can eternal lie.
"And with strange eons, even death may die."
"The Mad Arab Abdul Alhazred wrote those words centuries ago in a tome blasphemous knowledge posterity has handed down to us as the Necronomicon. They refer to Great Cthulhu; mightiest of the Old Ones imprisoned on Earth, the foul god of Natanaka and thousands of madmen like him.
"Before life as we know it had begun, before the moon had been torn from our world, Cthulhu and his spawn seeped down from the heavens and conquered a vast continent in what is now the Pacific Ocean. With their super science they reared up the black city of R'lyeh and were the lords of the Earth. But something went wrong and their mighty empire was claimed in the cataclysm which reshaped the Earth into the world we know. The waters came and Cthulhu's empire sank beneath the waves. He and his titanic spawn drowned with the black towers of R'lyeh. Drowned, but not dead, only dreaming.
"That is how the foulness of Mighty Cthulhu has haunted mankind down through the ages like a plague. Asleep within his sunken crypt, Cthulhu dreams and his dreams rise up through the fathoms. They seek out the dreams of men, devour them and replace them. His dreams force writers to pen tales of horror, artists to paint obscenities. And, those who cannot so purge the horror that their sleeping minds have absorbed embrace it in acts of barbarism or rituals of worship, worship of this obscene sender of visions. In time, those who continue to share the dreams of Great Cthulhu invariably go mad, for how can a human mind hold the dreams of a being so advanced that we can only imagine it as a god. Try to imagine an ant suddenly possessing the knowledge to construct a rocket ship. The knowledge is so far beyond the insect that it cannot hope to understand it. That is what it is like to share Cthulhu's dreams, for beside the science of his kind, man is less than an ant. Through the ages twisted geniuses have half understood the knowledge they have gained and we have called the advances these men have made employing that knowledge 'magic' or go mad ourselves.
"We have known of Cthulhu for a long time. Miskatonic University has investigated the doings of the Great Old Ones' twisted worshippers since the 1920's. In 1928 the government of the United States became aware of the old gods who share our world with us in their slumber. It was in that year that federal agents raided the New England fishing village of Innsmouth and discovered horror. The people of the village were worshippers of Great Cthulhu and had mixed their blood with that of Cthulhu's aquatic slaves, the Deep Ones, for generations. You have perhaps seen these loathsome hybrids, half-human, half-merman. Moshida village has been mixing its blood with the Deep Ones for centuries. Perhaps you even saw some of the Deep Ones themselves aiding Natanaka's cultists in their hunt?
"Since the early 1940's, Miskatonic University joined the government's investigation of the lingering influence of the Great Old Ones in what is now the Miskatonic Project. And we have dreaded this day.
We know that R'lyeh rises from the ocean floor on certain occasions and that on these occasions Great Cthulhu is free. R'lyeh sinks back into the depths shortly after it rises, taking Cthulhu with it. But one day, it will not return to the deep and on that day mankind will cease to be master of the Earth. We know that R'lyeh has risen again, insanity has been spreading like a plague across the world, telling us that Cthulhu is no longer buried beneath fathoms of water.
"All across the world the cultists have prepared for this day. Their leaders board ships grand and poor to make the pilgrimage to R'lyeh, to awaken Great Cthulhu with their prayers. Natanaka will be among them and where Natanaka goes, so goes the micro-transmitter our man Hidemasa placed in the sorcerer's food before he was killed. We will know where R'lyeh is, where Cthulhu will awaken. But the question remains, what to do if he does not go back to sleep?"
Professor Ashtree let his words linger in the air like an icy mist. After several minutes of silence, Commander Aso spoke.
"Have nuclear weapons been considered? He asked reluctantly. The American general seated opposite him replied.
"In 1953 we conducted an H-bomb 'test' on a small island in Micronesia. Our object was to destroy the crypt of one of Cthulhu's spawn which had been discovered on the island. The crypt was completely disintegrated, vaporised, but the monster inside was unharmed and, fortunately, not awakened. Nuclear weapons are as useless as spit balls against these beings!"
Suddenly an idea came to me. I remembered the hideous shoggoth and its battle with Godzilla and I remembered that it was Godzilla who had won that battle.
"Why not lure Godzilla to Cthulhu's island? Let the monsters battle one another and pray that it is Godzilla who emerges victorious." There was a murmur of hushed discussion as I finished making my proposal.
"Your idea is daring, Detective, but it is the only one we have," Professor Ashtree lamented.
"We can lure Godzilla to the island with a sonic transmitter," Commander Aso offered. "I can have a helicopter equipped within the hour."