Chapter Three
"September 3rd, 6:33 P.M.
"I was still smarting from being fired by Mr. Vincenzo. He wanted me gone in ten minutes. Well, I didn't intend to disappoint him. I wanted to get as far away from him as possible. But that didn't mean I was going to turn my back on him, as he had so strangely done to me. Whether Vincenzo liked it or not, he still had Carl Kolchak fighting on his side of the ring."
Kolchak walked around his desk, beginning the difficult task of untangling the computer cords. Of course, they were a mess. It was odd, really. If he just left the cords alone and did not mix them all up, how did this invariably happen? He unscrewed the monitor from the computer tower and began his attempt to follow the cord to its other end, unwinding it from other cords on the way down.
Miss Emily stood and watched, concern in her eyes. "Carl, I'm so sorry," she gasped. "I don't know what's gotten into Mr. Vincenzo. He just hasn't been himself today."
"Don't I know it, Miss Emily." Kolchak briefly glanced up at her. "But I'm going to change that. The future of Chicago may depend on it! Not to mention the future of my career," he muttered.
He raised his voice. "You know the thing that's been killing people all over town? It gave that one girl amnesia. And it's done something to Tony too. I'm sure of it. Whatever he says and does now, it probably isn't his fault. I'm going to make sure it gets reversed so he ends up back to normal again."
Miss Emily's eyes widened. "It sounds terribly dangerous," she said. "Carl, please remember how many people this . . . thing has already killed or hurt. You could be next!"
"I know, Miss Emily. I know." At last the cords were separated. Kolchak stacked his keyboard on top of his monitor and reached for the computer tower. It was heavy enough that it would require a separate trip.
Ron watched from his desk. Even he looked shaken by Tony's drastic personality shift. "Do you need any help making Mr. Vincenzo's deadline, Kolchak?" he asked.
"The last thing I need now, Uptight, is help from you," Kolchak said. He backed into the gate and then into the door to open them. "Leave everything where it is. I'll be back at least two more times. Within ten minutes!"
Miss Emily sighed as he went out the door. "Poor Carl," she said, going back to her desk. "He's taking this hard."
". . . It's only what should have been done ages ago, as Mr. Vincenzo pointed out," Ron shrugged.
"Mr. Vincenzo never would have done this if he was in his right mind," Miss Emily frowned. "Ron, surely you can see that."
Ron averted his gaze. He knew it, but acknowledging it brought one of his fears to light. ". . . If he would fire Kolchak, do you think he'll treat us differently too?"
"He already has been," Miss Emily said. "He's so distant now." She shook her head. "I don't like it, Ron. I don't like it at all. And I don't like the thought of Carl chasing down the thing that's been terrorizing Chicago. He's going to get himself hurt! Then Mr. Vincenzo will be sorry, even if he doesn't remember."
Ron looked to Kolchak's desk. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, it was strange to see it being emptied. Carl Kolchak, eccentricities, aggravations, and all, had been part of the INS family for years. Tony, in essence disowning him, made for a very unsettling picture.
Tony, watching from his office window, glowered at the scene in the main room. He had thought that getting Kolchak out of his hair and out of his life would ease his anger. Instead, it was still churning inside him. If anything, it felt like he had made his problems worse, not better.
Kolchak came back inside, gathering the monitor and keyboard next. Tony continued to observe, but though Kolchak felt the other man's eyes upon him he did not turn. Instead he carried the objects out the door and to his car in silence. And some unknown pang stabbed Tony's heart.
He turned away, facing the wall. The Tony that would have let Kolchak stay on was gone. He would never be that person again. There were going to be more heavy changes around the Independent News Service; getting rid of Kolchak was only the first step. He would carry the wire service up from its position as a near-laughingstock and make it one of the most well-respected businesses in Chicago.
As Kolchak returned for his final batch of belongings, Tony refused to look back. But he could still hear what was being said.
"Well, this is the last time my shadow will grace this doorway for a while," Kolchak remarked as he walked through the gate.
"Oh Carl. . . ." Miss Emily was still worried. "You'll keep in touch, won't you?"
"Of course, dear Miss Emily," Kolchak soothed. "And I am going to bring back dear old, grouchy, heart-of-gold Vincenzo. Mark my words!"
"They'll be on your tombstone," Ron said. "If whatever's out there doesn't kill you, Mr. Vincenzo probably will."
"Let's hope he hasn't fallen that far," Kolchak muttered. Louder he said, "Okay group, I am leaving. Make sure Mr. Vincenzo knows it."
And he left the building with dignity.
Tony clenched a fist. After a moment he whirled, shutting the door to his office with a bang. Miss Emily and Ron jumped a mile.
xxxx
"September 3rd, 7:00 P.M.
"It was strange, driving back to my apartment at that time of day. I've never had any reason to go there except to sleep. Even eating is something I always do away from the place. A good news office, that's what I call home. And now I had been kicked out of yet another one. This time it was more who had done it than that it had been done that upset me.
"But as I rode through the busy Chicago streets I was already formulating a plan. I had been spending my time chasing after the people involved in the attacks. Now I was going to try to uncover the source of the problem. Once I got back and unloaded my computer and other knick-knacks in my sorry excuse for a living room, I was going to access the information highway on my laptop and see what I could dig up on giant worms. I was hoping there'd be some kind of a legend that I could tap into.
"For the longest time there was nothing. I clicked through page after page of useless results, covering everything from how to raise worms to the proper way to fish. Well, I knew one thing—I'd never catch the big one with bait that size. I'd need some kind of bait to catch the bait, to say nothing of the size of fishing hook I'd have to have.
"It was nearing midnight when I finally got a break."
Kolchak stared at the screen, his eyes bloodshot, his hair a mess from dragging his fingers through it in frustration. He had tried every search he could think of that he had thought might help. Now he was looking at a page of aggravating, unhelpful results for the searched term Monsters that cause amnesia.
"Whoever said that Google can find anything was an idiot," he muttered.
But there was one result that looked interesting enough to warrant clicking. He did so. A page came up describing various monsters to be used in some tabletop role-playing game. The one that had caused the page to turn up among the search results was something listed as Shudde M'ell. Included in its various attacks was amnesia.
Well, it was the only thing he had discovered so far. He typed the thing's name in the browser's search box and pressed Enter.
His eyes opened wide at what came up under Google's sample images. The thing looked horrible—and very familiar. As near as he could tell, it was an enormous worm with tentacles on its head. Or maybe the tentacles were its head. His lip curled in revulsion. "Eww," he declared.
Further research turned his stomach all the more. Apparently Shudde M'ell belonged to the world of H.P. Lovecraft, created by a man named Brian Lumley. But . . . had he heard of something similar in real-life when he came up with the idea? What if there really was a race of worm things burrowing under the surface of the Earth? And not just any worm things, but worm things hailed as gods by each other and even some cultures of the world?
Kolchak leaned back in the chair, overwhelmed by what might lay ahead of him. "I know what I'll be doing tomorrow," he said to the lonely room.
xxxx
"September 4th, 11:45 A.M.
"At some point after that I obviously, finally fell asleep, as I was dead to the world until late the next morning. And even then, what awakened me was the jangling of my home telephone. I'd forgotten all about Captain Siska wanting me to find out what was wrong with Tony. He had just learned that I'd been fired. Needless to say, he was most unhappy.
"When I came to enough to read the caller I.D. on my phone, I quickly deduced that he was calling to bellow at me for my failure and my brilliant move of being kicked off the good ship S.S. INS. I was right."
"Hello?" Kolchak mumbled, still half-asleep.
Captain Siska's snarling voice woke him up in an instant. "Kolchak, what's the matter with you?" he roared. "I gave you a simple assignment and you even botched that!"
Kolchak straightened in the chair. "Why, Captain, how good of you to call," he said, the irony clear in his voice. "I wasn't expecting to hear from you."
"Do you know where I've been?" Siska snapped.
"No, but I could make a guess," Kolchak said. "You've just spoken to Anthony Vincenzo."
"And he said that you didn't follow up on your assignment again! You got yourself fired because of that!"
"I didn't bother with the assignment because I was looking into what caused Mr. Vincenzo's drastic mood swings," Kolchak countered. "In his condition, he never would have told me anything. But I don't think he remembers anyway. The more I investigate, Captain, the more it looks like he was attacked by the giant worm."
"I don't want to hear any more about a giant worm!" Siska howled.
"Captain, listen to me for one minute!" Kolchak glanced to the computer, which was still on. "There's a giant worm in the H.P. Lovecraft-inspired stories called Shudde M'ell. It even has tentacles! And it can cause amnesia, at least according to its stats in some role-playing game."
"This is what you've been researching?" Siska was not pleased. "You got yourself fired for some fictional monster?"
"What if it isn't fictional?" Kolchak yelled over him. "What if it was inspired by something real? I'm going to do a little research into that possibility today."
"I should have my head examined for thinking you'd be any kind of help on this case!" Siska ranted. "You're never any help! I don't know why Mr. Vincenzo didn't fire you years ago!"
"Sometimes I wonder myself," Kolchak muttered under his breath.
Louder he said, "Captain, I'm positive I'm on the right track. And deep down, you're afraid that I am, aren't you? You're just like Vincenzo; you're afraid that a giant worm really did kill those five people, but you can't admit it!"
"Seven," Siska growled.
Kolchak started. "What?"
"Whatever it was killed two more people last night," Siska admitted.
Kolchak leaped to his feet, still holding the telephone. "You see? It's going to keep killing until we find a way to stop it! And that can't even begin to happen unless we accept what it is!" He grabbed for a notepad and pencil. "Were there any witnesses this time?"
"No. But there was a big pit of dirt," Siska grudgingly confessed. "Just like with the others."
Kolchak scribbled on the paper. "Weren't there two people killed those other times too?" he said. "In fact, wasn't the incident with the body on the cemetery fence the only time there was one victim?"
"We've thought of that, Kolchak," Siska growled. "We've been looking into it. You're right. It's possible that the woman on the fence wasn't killed by the same . . . perp. That one could've been a copycat crime."
"That's some copycat crime," Kolchak said, sardonic. "I wonder how many copycats it took to push Tony's car over."
"Mr. Vincenzo is the only possible witness we have to that murder!" Siska said in frustration. "And we can't even find out what he might know that he didn't tell us!"
"What he might know, he probably doesn't know he knows," Kolchak retorted. "And I am going to find out how to bring that knowledge, and every other sealed memory of his, back to the surface. However, to do that I'm going to have to stay on the worm angle. You should try it, Captain. Maybe then things would start to fall into place!"
"It will never fall into place!" Siska snarled. "I wish I hadn't asked you to try to find out anything!"
"Oh, it wouldn't have mattered, Captain," Kolchak said. "I would have kept checking this out anyway. I'll be sure to let you know the moment I have something more concrete to go on." This was said with oozing sarcasm as he hung up.
With a sigh he slumped back in the chair, blankly staring at the notes he had scratched out during the conversation. He had better get going, if he was going to go somewhere to look into the possibility of Shudde M'ell really existing. And even if he learned it was possible, what about whether there was a way to defeat it? Maybe it had supposedly gone out with the dinosaurs but had secretly endured. And if a meteor had not actually killed it, what would?
Suddenly he leaned forward, stunned. Something was leaping out at him that he had not even noticed before.
The worm really did seem to like to kill in pairs. The woman on the fence had indeed been the only victim found in the one instance. If no one else had been around, why hadn't the worm made Tony its second victim?
"Insignificant . . . or vitally important?" Kolchak mused to himself. "I'm betting on the latter."
He got up, grabbing his coat, camera, and tape recorder as he headed for the door.
xxxx
Tony had not slept well. For the most part he had tossed and turned, hovering back and forth from that strange state between sleep and awareness to fitful dreams. His pajamas were rumpled and wrinkled, and his hair a wild mess, by the time he conceded defeat and staggered out of bed.
What was wrong? As near as he could tell, it had something to do with Carl Kolchak—judging from how the guy was insistent on staying in his thoughts. Maybe it was because Tony had fired him. But Kolchak had had it coming to him for years. He could not obey orders. He needed to be brought down a peg or two. Or ten.
Tony shuffled into the kitchen and routed through the fridge for the orange juice. Utterly exhausted, yet fully awake, he stared with bleary eyes as he poured himself a glass.
"I thought I was rid of the guy and yet he still can't leave me alone," he berated to the empty room. "Why? What do I have to do to get some peace around here?"
The wall telephone rang off the hook in response. He gave it a look of disgust. Phone calls this early in the day usually had something to do with Kolchak. But listening to the incessant ringing was aggravating him. At last he stormed over, jerking the receiver out of the cradle. "Hello?" he demanded.
"Anthony Albert Vincenzo, what's wrong?" his sister's voice exclaimed on the other end.
Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair. "There's nothing wrong," he said, defensive.
She was not convinced in the least. "Something is," she said. "And you don't sound right."
"How am I supposed to sound?" Tony retorted.
"Not like you're talking to a stranger," she told him.
He froze in stunned disbelief. Kolchak had said something like that too. Not that he was about to acknowledge it aloud.
"That's ridiculous," he said. "I know who I'm talking to." He hurried on before she could protest. "What did you want?"
"I wanted to see if you were alright," she said. "The word's been coming in that there's been a series of murders there in Chicago, all committed by the same person!"
"Some people think it's a giant worm," Tony grumbled.
"What?"
"Nothing." He set down the now-empty glass. "Yeah, I'm fine." Or he wished he were, anyway. Kolchak was driving him to the point of losing his marbles.
"What about Carl?"
Tony rubbed his eyes. He did not need this now. His sister had always been sympathetic towards Kolchak, for reasons that were a mystery to Tony. She would be shocked beyond belief that Tony had fired Kolchak at long last.
"He's fine too," Tony said finally. "The killer didn't get any of us."
"I hope not. Do the police have any suspects?"
"No," Tony said. "Not yet. Look, I'm sorry, but I've really got to go."
"Okay. And I hope you feel better soon, Anthony, even if you won't tell me what's wrong." She hung up before he could protest.
He glowered at the telephone as he pulled it away from his ear and hung it up. Slumping at the kitchen table, he ran a hand through his hair. Kolchak and the other INS employees had all been sure that something was wrong and he was not acting right. Now his own flesh-and-blood relative had echoed that sentiment, without ever having known about anyone else's concerns.
Could there be any truth to it?
Well, he had been having headaches ever since waking up on the road the other night. He still had no memory of how he had gotten into that predicament. He had wondered whether the killer could have knocked him out, but the medic the police had brought in had found no trace of a bump or chloroform or any other signs that he had been deliberately rendered unconscious. They thought he was suffering from some sort of mental trauma.
Seeing the dead body on the fence had been horrifying, but would it have disturbed him to the point of trauma and blocking out memories?
Wouldn't he know if he were missing memories?
For some weird reason, now he was thinking of when Kolchak had asked him if he remembered watching over him at the hospital. Of course, Tony did . . . but when he tried to think of why he had bothered he drew a blank. There was honestly some part of his memory that was not there. And if he were truthful with himself, it was not the only missing piece.
Why had he kept Kolchak on so long? Why did Kolchak so brazenly call him Tony?
Why couldn't he get the image of Kolchak's hurt look when Tony had fired him out of his mind?
"Mama Mia," he muttered in wearied exhaustion. There were no answers.
He had better get dressed and go to work. It was all he could do.
xxxx
"September 4th, 1:45 P.M.
"Doctor Agatha Marlin had earned several degrees in zoology and biology. She also studied cryptology, which made her—I hoped—qualified to answer my questions.
"Unfortunately, she was busy moving boxes when I found her at the Museum of Natural History. And she seemed to find that more interesting than anything else."
Kolchak knocked on the open door before advancing into the room. "Excuse me," he greeted the bent-over figure of Dr. Agatha Marlin. "I'm Carl Kol- . . ."
"Move that one on top of the next stack over," Agatha directed without looking up. She pointed to a beat-up cardboard box that had clearly seen better times.
Kolchak stared at her. "What?"
"The box!" she exclaimed.
"The . . . oh." Kolchak did as she requested. "Is this alright?"
She glanced up from the containers she was shifting around. "Perfect. Now, who are you again?"
Kolchak gave an awkward grin. "Well, I didn't really have the chance to fully introduce myself, but I'm Carl Kolchak, INS." He flashed his identification too fast for her to study it. "I was hoping you could answer some questions for me about what's been killing people in Chicago the last few days."
She perked up. "The worm, right? Finally! I've been trying to call the police for ages."
Kolchak stared, stunned. "You . . . you have?" he stammered.
She nodded. "I don't know why they're so adverse to the idea. I mean, there've been multiple documented sightings of supposedly extinct creatures. And there's the lake monsters that are probably surviving dinosaurs. Why not big worms?"
"This isn't just any 'big worm', Doctor," Kolchak put in. "It's got tentacles on its head. Is that possible?"
She shrugged. "Who knows! There's so much we don't know about the ancient world, Mr. Kolchak. Maybe it's a prehistoric ancestor of the squid." Her eyes gleamed. "I wish I could study it."
"I kind of don't think it would let you get that close," Kolchak said.
Agatha was barely listening. "If you want to know more about ancient worms, you'll be interested in this." She crossed the room to her desk and lifted a small, framed picture.
Kolchak leaned in to examine it. The style looked old and not very detailed, but against the green background there were several humanoid figures bowing before what appeared to be a large, fat worm as long as the circle of people was wide.
"What's this?" he asked.
"No one's quite sure," Agatha explained. "This is just a copy; the original was found near a site in the United Kingdom where Druids used to worship. The scene could be depicting them, or it could be some other group from the same time period. It looks like this giant worm was a god to whoever they were."
"And this was what you were going to tell the police," Kolchak said.
"Yes. The worm god was said to have free reign over the ground. It could burrow wherever it pleased."
Kolchak got out his camera. "Do you mind if I . . . ?"
"Oh, go ahead and take a picture," Agatha told him.
Kolchak snapped one. "Tell me, Doctor, how would someone go about defeating this . . . worm god?" He stepped back, looking the picture over again before Agatha set it down.
She shook her head. "I'm not sure. It's supposed to be immune to fire and water; I remember that much." She crossed her arms. "And I imagine that, like all worms, it has multiple hearts."
"So if you tried to chop it up, you could end up with an even bigger problem," Kolchak deduced.
"Probably. If you could even get close enough to try." She sighed. "There's not a whole lot more that's known about it. Frankly, Mr. Kolchak . . ." She turned to stare out the window at downtown Chicago. "If that's what we're dealing with, Chicago just might be doomed."
"We'll see about that." Kolchak headed for the door. "Thank you, Doctor. You've been most helpful."
She whirled to face him. "When will your article be in the paper?" she demanded.
Caught in his deceit, Kolchak froze. "Well . . . I'm actually not sure about that," he admitted truthfully. "Soon, if I have anything to say about it." He touched the brim of his hat. "Good day."
And he fled the office.