52

Small Hours

"No one, even those who have the facts concerning the recent horror, can say just what is the matter with Dunwich; though old legends speak of unhallowed rites and conclaves of the Indians, amidst which they called forbidden shapes of shadow out of the great rounded hills, and made wild orgiastic prayers that were answered by loud crackings and rumblings from the ground below." – H. P. Lovecraft, "The Dunwich Horror"

Now that it was the middle of the night, the sourceless lighting of Sato Katsu's base had dimmed somewhat, but this did not stop Sato himself from pacing its shadowed halls. Eventually wandering into a large, table-filled room, he took a seat and leaned forward, running his hands through his hair. It was quiet. The Hanumon which served as general staff for the complex were either sleeping or on guard nearer the entrance. Sato didn't know where the Dark Man was at the moment, though he suspected that his unusual colleague had gone and insinuated himself into a dream of the enemy, as Sato had done not long ago.

He was now reviewing recent events over and over in his mind. There had been many more losses than victories for his organization. Very little had gone right since he and the Dark Man had announced their existence to the Chosen Children almost a week ago. On the other hand, the children and their partners had to be tired from the constant battles and mental assaults. They had been allowed almost no rest since this last campaign had begun, and now that the Adult and Perfect Digimon at Sato's disposal had whittled away at their strength, it was time for his trump cards, the Ultimates, to take the stage.

According to Hiraga, Lilithmon planned to lure the Chosen Children to her, and Sato couldn't envision her failing in a situation where all the odds would be in her favor. There was also Panimon, now in Tokyo and perpetrating nameless crimes as he prepared for the coming battle.

All of this passed through Sato's thoughts in an instant, but he was still brooding over the chances of success when a soft but clear voice spoke up at the other end of the room.

"You are still awake."

Sato jerked his head up and saw Anubimon in the darkness. The Digimon stood up and began walking towards him.

Sato was not in a mood to talk at the moment, least of all with Anubimon. The Digimon had obvious qualms with the work being done by Sato's group. The Dark Man had convinced him to join in somehow, but Sato was certain that Anubimon was being coerced, and was not, as the other Digimon were, a devotee of the dark powers. Sato considered remaining silent, but he knew the encounter would be much less awkward if he replied.

"Actually I just woke up," he said. "And what about you? Shouldn't you be sleeping instead of wasting my time?"

Anubimon stopped at the other side of Sato's table, but remained standing.

"I have no need of sleep," he answered. "My duties make no allowance for it, especially in these tumultuous times."

"You have new duties now," Sato said. "Perhaps you should get back to them."

"My energy is low. It will be a while yet before I can resume bringing the Dark Towers into this world. But what about you? Why do you never sleep?"

"I told you I just woke up," Sato said irritably.

Anubimon slowly shook his head.

"You have returned from an invasion of another's dream," he said. "Not from a natural sleep. Why is it always so?"

An ugly expression passed over Sato's face, like a sneer suddenly smothered by cold fury. He looked up at Anubimon to answer.

"How I spend my time is none of your business. I've put up with you long enough tonight. Get out."

The Digimon didn't move at first, and Sato raised his voice as he looked into Anubimon's calm, questioning eyes.

"Get out!"

Anubimon turned around, took a step forward, paused briefly, but then continued on his way. Once he had left the room, Sato stood up and stalked out in the opposite direction. In a few minutes Sato was back in his black shrine, pacing around the perimeter. Eventually he stopped and gazed about the room.

Almost blending in with the stone of the floor were a number of sunken pipes running from the entrance to about the center of the chamber. There they fed into a well-like structure, which rose out of the floor to about waist height.

Sato walked over to this and peered over the stone rim, placing his hands on either side of it. Inside the well was a slowly turning vortex of whatever dark substance was running through the pipes, funneling downward into unknown depths, and Sato bowed reverently over its center. He closed his eyes and began to murmur.

"Old master, accept this our offering. The dream in the dark, the terror in the tear, the water in the lung…"

There was no way of telling how long they had been walking. Time means little in dreams. The path meandered ever onwards through the trees. Sometimes it was choked with undergrowth where the forest had begun to reclaim it, and other times the foliage fell away to reveal misty valleys and hilltops crowned with brutish ruins. The day was dark. Everything in sight looked washed out, drained of color and vitality.

So far, Miyako hadn't said anything. Why hadn't she? Some sound seemed needed here, where the soft earth deadened even their footfalls. She and Hawkmon were at the back of the group, and she could see the other five Chosen Children and their partners. They were also quiet. Each was too lost in his or her own thoughts to reach out to any of the others.

"Hey, everyone, doesn't look like there's anything out in this direction," Miyako said, eager to start a conversation of any kind. But there was no response. The others maintained their pace. No one said anything in reply, or even turned their head around to acknowledge that someone had spoken. "Don't you think," Miyako persisted, "That it might be better to go back?"

As if on cue, the fog rolled lazily across the path, obscuring her view of the others.

"It's so foggy we can hardly see, anyways," she continued, swiveling her head and trying to pierce the mist around her. She was beginning to get frustrated. She waved her hands in front of her, trying to disperse the fog. "Why won't anyone say anything!?" she asked. She walked faster, trying to catch up to her friends.

The mist finally began to thin. The path still continued on, but Miyako could see no one on it. Could the others have taken a turn somewhere in the fog? She looked down, but there was no sign of Hawkmon either. Behind her she could see no one, nor any sign of a fork in the trail.

"Guys?" She hurried on ahead. "Come on, guys, where are you?"

A low stone wall rose up on her left, and she followed its curve until the trees fell away and she could see around the bend. There she came to an abrupt stop, because someone she didn't recognize was standing alongside the path, leaning on the wall.

"You look lost," the person said. It was a man's voice. From where she stood, Miyako couldn't make out his features. The distance between them wasn't far, but maybe the fog helped to obscure his face. She suspected from the tone of his voice that he might be making fun of her, and the impression strengthened when he smiled at her with teeth brighter than anything else in this strange place.

"What's so funny?" she asked, her apprehension fueling her irritability.

"Funny?" he said. "Nothing. But you do look lost. Anything I can help you with?"

"Well… I can't find my friends. Did you see them go through here?"

"No one went through here," he answered. "No footprints but yours, see?" He pointed at the ground behind her, and looking there she could see that while her own footprints were clearly imprinted in the moist soil, there were no signs of any other passage. A little chuckle from the man brought her head around again.

"Were you just with them?" he asked. "Are you sure you aren't imagining things? You may see all sorts of strange things out here sometimes."

"Could I—" Her voice seemed a little small and inadequate. She couldn't tell if the guy thought she was crazy or was about to start telling a ghost story, but she didn't like the look of him, and she didn't like this place and this strange situation. "Could I just get directions? I mean, how to get out of here? I should really get home."

"No directions necessary," he answered. "Just follow the path."

Miyako looked down the trail to where it took a sharp turn and disappeared. She definitely didn't want to walk it alone, but she wasn't about to ask this stranger to accompany her.

"Really…?" she asked, stalling.

"Really. It can take you anywhere." He laughed again, softly.

"O-h… Well, then, I'll be going," she said with a nervous giggle. "Uh, thanks." She started walking briskly forward, keeping her eyes ahead. She couldn't keep from glancing at the man as she approached him, and her brain noted in a far-off way that there were no footprints leading to his position.

"Have fun, Inoue-san," he said as she passed him.

She hurried on, rounding the bend. She was having trouble keeping from breaking into a run. As she battled with her fears the path grew wider and leveled out, and the fog grew denser, until she may have been standing in a field of dirt. After moving aimlessly forward for a while she came to a stop and began to turn her head about looking for any landmarks.

"Of course it can take me anywhere if I don't know which way to go!" she muttered to herself. There was nothing in sight but a wall of fog on all sides. "No waaay! I just want to go home!" She took an impulsive step forward, then yelped as her foot encountered no ground. Immediately after there was a soft rustle as the saturated earth under her other foot crumbled.

She was sliding down a wall of dirt. Her arms were thrown out to her sides, but there was nothing for the hands to catch at. Before long her boots met solid ground again, and she took a moment to catch her breath and compose herself. She had landed at the bottom of a roughly cylindrical hole some five meters deep. It was amazing she wasn't hurt.

The fog didn't reach down into the hole, and she could see her surroundings clearly by the pale light filtering through it, but that gave her little comfort. She was a decent climber, but making it all the way out of the pit would be an effort – if not impossible. The walls were damp earth, marred intermittently by tiny tunnels, and with no solid handholds but an occasional protruding rock.

The silence of the day was broken by a low rumble that seemed to make its way up from beneath the ground. It made Miyako uneasy, because it reminded her of the earthquakes which had been disturbing the Digital World recently. This would be the worst possible time for something like that to happen. She glanced down at the pit's floor and grimaced in disgust. Several long, fat earthworms were squirming up out of the ground, perhaps driven from their homes by that strange rumbling. The sound, meanwhile, was continuing, rising and falling in volume so that it almost seemed to have a rhythm to it.

Miyako turned her attention back to the sides of the hole, and began to test it for hand and footholds. Soon she had her feet up off the ground. Looking for her next move, she noticed that the walls, like the floor, were not entirely still. Several insects were beginning to crawl out of the little holes. Most were nothing too terrible, but she would rather not have gotten a look at them. There was a silverfish there, and an earwig over an inch long there. As she was fumbling for a handhold a long centipede scuttled out of a burrow and over her glove, and she flung it away from her.

She looked up, but the rim of the pit was still so far away. The noise from underground was louder, even in its lulls. She was sure now that there was a pattern behind it. She might even be able to break it down into gargantuan words, but that was crazy, and she didn't allow herself to try and find meaning in the sound.

She had successfully moved up another section of the wall when she happened to look at the space just in front of her. Sitting in her line of sight was a fat cockroach, her very least favorite species of insect. She had no time to react before it had taken flight and launched directly into her face. Letting out a little scream, she waved one hand before her in an effort to ward it off, but the suddenness of her movement caused her other hand to slip from its tenuous grip.

The next she knew she was lying on her back, staring up into the mist above the pit. The subterranean rumbling was rising in volume again, now accompanied by loud cracking sounds. The air above her was abuzz with flying insects, but they didn't obscure her view of the face which intruded on the circle of gray fog. There were white teeth, and the dark eyes seemed to glitter as they looked down at her. The smiling mouth framed a word.

"Bingo!"

Then the walls of the pit exploded in a shower of dirt. Briefly Miyako saw the black swarms behind them, before the earth and bugs began to pile up on top of her, cutting off all light, suffocating, crushing.