Cosmic Horror

By James Donaldson

Nash, against his will, is violently thrust into an ongoing struggle against mysterious, cosmic forces far beyond his human understanding. Traversing the globe, Nash and his team of unlikely allies race to defeat an evil, supernatural threat they know precious little about. From the halls of the mysterious Arkham University, to deep under the plague-ridden Port of Innsmouth, to the peaks of the terrifying Mountains of Madness and more, Nash faces off against foe after foe on his seemingly impossible quest to save mankind from destruction. Overwhelmed, outmatched and outwitted, can the Corsair prevent a prophesied, eternal evil from erasing the entire universe, or is Nash out of time before he even begins?

• Language: English
• Publisher: James Donaldson
• Release date: Mar 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215520765

James Donaldson

James Donaldson, independent author and disabled veteran, is realizing his lifelong dream of writing speculative fiction. James’ writing philosophy revolves around “...eldritch styled adventure stories I’d enjoy reading.”James Donaldson is a former police officer and decorated combat veteran. He currently lives in Utah with his family and works in the national security field.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Most days in the cramped communications room aboard Air Force One were a unique mixture of in-person communications, global monitoring and real-time threat updates. The hand-picked men and women assigned to this particular section of the presidential aircraft conducted their assignments, day after day, emergency after emergency, with the utmost attention to detail, extreme professionalism, and always within well-established protocols.

Despite the importance of the work conducted inside, Air Force One’s communications room usually consisted of a predictable routine, regardless of the situation on the ground.

Today, however, was far from ordinary.

For one, the President of the United States himself, uncharacteristically nervous, paced the length of the thin room, shouting commands and monitoring the developing global situation in person.

Second, everyone onboard the most sophisticated aircraft ever built instinctively understood, they, along with the rest of humanity, only had moments left to live.

Apart from President Hawthorne, three seated communications specialists worked feverously as two standing Secret Service Agents observed everything from the far end of the room. On the other end of the rectangular-shaped room, directly opposite the Secret Service Agents, two other serious-appearing men stood against another wall. Identical to the Secret Service Agents, these other two men also observed everything occurring in the communications room with morbid fascination.

The first of the two men hand carried a pair of briefcases, each handcuffed to either of his wrists. The first suitcase contained what the public commonly referred to as the nuclear football. The second suitcase, however, contained something entirely different.

Standing next to the military officer charged with the security of the two important briefcases, Special Agent in Charge Harold Barrett retrieved a handkerchief from inside his coat jacket and wiped the sweat from his brow.

Apart from President Hawthorne, no one knew what agency Special Agent Barrett worked for, but everyone understood his importance as President Hawthorne himself insisted upon his presence when the President first learned of the pending disaster.

As the enigmatic Special Agent Barrett replaced his handkerchief inside his jacket pocket, one of the communication technicians grabbed the President’s attention. Mister President! NASA is back online. As the technician spoke, another technician flicked a switch and the image of the head of National Aeronautical and Space Administration chief filled an overhead monitor.

Lock that door! Special Agent Barrett shouted to the President’s Secret Service detail. I don’t want anyone else in here except us eight!

Please do as he asked. President Hawthorne confirmed.

One of the Secret Service Agents locked the sole exit from the communications room as ordered.

Turning his attention to the monitor with the NASA chief, President Hawthorne spoke, Skip the formalities. What do we know?

Mister President, the senior NASA official replied, As directed, we traced the object’s history using computer monitoring…

And? Special Agent Barrett interrupted, causing President Hawthorne to frown.

The NASA official continued. And… Well, to explain simply, we predict the anomaly began approximately one hundred of Earth’s years ago. Why it started back then, however, we’re not exactly sure.

And why haven’t we ever detected it before today? The President demanded; his voice unsteady.

We simply didn’t know to look, Mister President. The senior NASA man replied. Space is a big place. The phenomena is, well, even if we did know to look for it, because of its galactic distance from us, we couldn’t have observed it until approximately twenty years ago anyway.

It began a hundred years ago! See? Did you hear him? As we thought, this is a supernatural phenomenon, Mister President. Special Agent Barrett injected. It’s all related. This proves it. You know what we have to do.

Confused, the NASA chief disagreed. Supernatural? Who said that? Mister President, although unprecedented, I’m sure this is a naturally occurring cosmic event…

Momentarily off balanced by the gravity of the situation, the President shouted angrily at the monitor. Cosmic event? Cosmic event? This isn’t a cosmic event, sir. This’s a damn cosmic horror!

Unsure how to respond to the President’s outburst, the NASA official remained silent.

Mister President, Special Agent Barrett broke the awkward silence, You have to send the message now. We’re almost out of time.

No. President Hawthorne replied immediately.

No? Special Agent Barrett repeated, dumbfounded. No? Why not? This is what the damn thing is for! For this! Send the message now before it’s too late! What the hell is wrong with you? Send it!

Angered by the disrespectful tone of Special Agent Barrett, President Hawthorne shouted back at the secret agent as he pointed at the briefcase in the other man’s hand. That is a one-shot deal. One. I don’t want to use it yet. Hell, I don’t want to ever use the damn thing at all if I’m being completely honest. It’s unnatural! Ungodly!

The three communications technicians busied themselves in their computers as the President of the United States and Special Agent Barrett yelled at each other. Simultaneously, the two Secret Service Agents glanced at each other in astonishment at the ongoing shouting match.

Unnatural? Special Agent Barrett repeated the President’s words, the volume of his voice more respectful, but his tone continued to remain venomous. Mister President. This situation is exactly what Professor Peaslee had in mind when he constructed and wrote down the instructions for using the damn thing a hundred years ago. At the same time, I might add, that NASA just confirmed this entire cosmic horror thing began. I mean, what could be worse than this? Send the message before it’s too damn late!

What are you two talking about, Mister President? The NASA chief asked, only to be ignored.

Agent Barrett! What if we send the message and somehow it messes with the timeline? The President explained, ignoring the NASA man’s question and addressing Special Agent Barrett directly.

The timeline? Who cares? That’s what we want to do! We want to mess with the timeline! To stop this. Can’t you see? We want to change the damn timeline. Stop this thing before it even occurs in the first place! Special Agent Barrett replied. Nothing can be worse than this. This ‘cosmic horror’ as you called it. It’s the end of the whole damn show!

I said ‘no’ and that’s final. President Hawthorne stated angrily. Along the wall, the two Secret Service Agents adjusted their stance cautiously should the argument between the two men escalate further.

After a few moments, Special Agent Barrett conceded. Yes, Mister President.

Good. The President replied. Turning back toward the NASA man in the monitor, President Hawthorne asked, Now what can we expect coming up?

After taking a breath and glancing at his watch, the NASA chief read from his notes. Mister President, in approximately five minutes from now, we will lose all global communications. In about six minutes, we will…

As the NASA chief outlined the horrific consequences of the ongoing astronomical event to the elected leader of the United States, Special Agent Barrett again retrieved his handkerchief from inside his jacket and wiped the heavy perspiration from his brow and the back of his neck. With the Secret Service men in his peripheral vision, the mysterious government agent replaced the sweaty cloth back inside his jacket.

THUMP! THUMP!

After Special Agent Barrett replaced his handkerchief, with his hand still inside his jacket, he removed a silenced firearm from his shoulder holster and immediately shot the two Secret Service Agents across the room, splattering their brains over the wall behind them.

Unemotionally, Special Agent Barrett turned the firearm on the three seated communications officers as President Hawthorne observed everything occurring around him in astonishment and disbelief.

THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!

With five dead bodies in Air Force One’s communications room, Special Agent Barrett turned his weapon toward the man with his mouth agape standing next to him. The man tasked with the security of the dual suitcases.

THUMP! THUMP!

One shot instantly killed the man carrying the nuclear football and the second shot broke the chain to the other suitcase handcuffed to the man’s wrist. Pushing the stunned President Hawthorne out of the way, Special Agent Barrett placed the case on the blood-splattered counter, completely ignoring the other briefcase containing America’s nuclear codes. Finally, he switched off the feed with NASA.

Why? President Hawthorne stammered. Why’re you doing this? Why did you just kill those people?

Opening the hard-covered case, Special Agent Barrett answered cryptically. Mister President, if this works, I won’t have to.

Inside the case, Special Agent Barrett verified the screen and the telephone handset. Grabbing President Hawthorne’s hand, Special Agent Barrett drug the leader of the free world over to the open briefcase.

Forcefully, Special Agent Barrett placed President Hawthorne’s hand on the screen. Moments after he held the President’s hand on the device, a green light above the telephone handset flicked on.

President Hawthorne snatched his hand back and began to chastise Special Agent Barrett for his murderous and treasonous actions. You’ll… You’ll go down in history as…

THUMP!

The lifeless body of President Hawthorne fell to the ground as Special Agent Barrett picked up the telephone receiver from inside the case and placed it to his ear.

Special Agent in Charge Harold Barrett. The sole living person in Air Force One’s communications room spoke into the headset. Send the message immediately. The one I crafted an hour ago. No change. Word for word. Presidential authorization. Send the message now. Right now. Acknowledge.

Special Agent Barrett listened to the headset for a whole minute before he heard the response from the other end. Acknowledge all. Message started. Anticipate completion of the entire message in less than one minute, sir.

Special Agent Barrett hung up the receiver and, for the first time of the day, sat.

Seated on the bloody floor of the aircraft, surrounded by seven dead bodies, Special Agent Barrett waited patiently. Above him, the mysterious man observed the digital readouts of various time zones around the globe clicking by the seconds. Seconds which appeared to take longer and longer to change.

Smiling at the absurdity of his situation, Special Agent Barrett joked to himself. So this is how it ends?

The sound of Special Agent Harold Barrett’s final words never reached the man’s ears as everything around him turned impossibly white.

PART

I

A Miskatonic Mystery

ONE

The undead mummy backhanded me with its unnaturally strong fist, launching me several feet in the air and across the room.

Ouch!

Regaining my feet, the animated corpse, wrapped entirely in rotted bandages, stumbled impossibly toward me.

Why does crap like this keep happening to me? I thought, my mind racing as the other museum patrons around me screamed and fled in terror.

Drawing my firearm, I assumed a textbook firing stance and shot directly into the chest and head of the Egyptian pharaoh, or whatever it used to be in the ancient past, inexplicably returned to life only moments before.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Out of habit, I fired my weapon in a three-shot failure drill, two shots to the chest and one to the head. The technique was designed to stop an adversary in their tracks with a double tap to the chest and a follow up shot, or a failure shot, to the head should one’s opponent have body armor on.

As I fired, I observed how each round I fired struck the monster exactly where I planned, two rounds center mass in its torso and one directly into its cloth-wrapped face.

Through the smoke, I also observed that, although the bullets ripped through the ancient bandages and tore through the decayed flesh underneath, the undead creature didn’t halt its advance in the least.

Are you serious? I thought.

Running past the slow-moving thing and into the next room, I found myself in another exhibit of the museum, this one depicting life in America during the Revolutionary War. Glancing around, I frantically searched for a weapon I could use to fight the undead thing following me.

Naturally, the museum’s weapons were all rendered safe and firmly attached to the exhibits. Besides, if my modern pistol didn’t stop the thing, why did I think two-hundred-year-old rifles would?

Stop! Think it through, Nash! I silently shouted at myself as the mummy entered the room after me.

Turning, I horrifyingly discovered the second exit from the Revolutionary War exhibit had a metal gate blocking the way, the only exit from the room being the one I entered from.

Not a huge problem, except for the mummy standing between me and the exit.

Finding myself trapped and alone, the other museum patrons long gone, I contemplated my options.

Although the mummy stumbled toward me slower than a living man would, it still moved fast enough where I couldn’t simply run around the undead thing.

BANG! BANG!

Two shots to the knees of the creature had the same effect as the previous shots I fired into its torso and the headshot.

Absolutely nothing.

This isn’t good.

Without considering the consequences, I ran toward the animated corpse as fast as I could. At the last possible moment, I attempted to slide underneath the creature’s feet on the well-polished floor of the museum.

Apparently the maintenance staff had skimped on the wax as I slid to a stop directly underneath the rotting thing.

This really isn’t good.

Reaching down, the creature effortlessly picked me up and flung my body haphazardly into one of the nearby exhibits.

CRASH.

Knocking over several uniformed, manikin Revolutionary War soldiers, I thanked God I didn’t land directly on any of their exposed bayonets.

Regaining my feet again, I didn’t have time to conduct an assessment if I’d broken any bones, as I instead took the opportunity to run out of the room and back into the Egyptian exhibit.

Running past the other mummies in their displays, the question of why one mummy came to life to kill me while the others remained immobile, and still quite dead, crossed my mind for a split-second. Out of the corner of my eye, I located the sole empty sarcophagus in the exhibit. A sarcophagus, apart from being empty, adorned quite differently than the others.

Who is this mummy chasing me?

Focusing on my immediate concerns, I sprinted out of the Egyptian exhibit and into the intersection of six corridors, each one leading to a separate part of the Miskatonic University Museum. At the center of the intersection sat a massive fountain complete with water pouring out of the top of the center statue. Coins obscured the entire bottom of the fountain.

Should I toss a coin in for good luck? I reflexively joked to myself.

Risking a glance behind me, I observed the mummy, its hands and arms outstretched in front of it, exiting the Egyptian exhibit a few paces behind me.

I instinctively understood I could outrun the creature and make my escape from the museum. However, what I didn’t know was whether the reanimated mummy would continue to hunt me down or begin attacking other innocent people in its murderous rage.

Of course, I also didn’t know how to stop it.

With limited options, I decided to attempt to continue to outpace the thing until an opportunity to stop the creature presented itself.

For no reason other than blind faith, I choose to run down the corridor directly behind the fountain. As I did, I discovered another exhibit I hadn’t explored yet, this one depicting seventeenth-century French musketeers. As my eyes darted back and forth, I also discovered the second exit from this room also had a locked gate preventing me from exiting.

What’s with all these damn gates?

As in the Revolutionary War exhibit, I quickly found myself trapped with the mummy again between me and the sole exit from the room.

Come on, Nash! I silently chastised myself for making the same mistake twice. You’re better than this!

With limited options, I made a snap decision to grab one of the swords from the numerous display cases in the room. After all, I thought, the blades appeared sharp enough.

Using the bottom of my pistol as a blunt object, I tried to break one of the glass cases containing the historic sabers.

THUD.

No luck. I hadn’t even made a scratch in the thick glass of the display case.

Before I could attempt to break the glass a second time, from behind me, the mummy wrapped its heavily bandaged arms around my body. With less than a second to react, I purposely allowed my body to fall to the ground as the creature hugged the air where I stood a moment before.

Rolling to the side, I scampered away before again standing and running toward another display case, the murderous mummy hot on my heels.

BANG!

CRASH.

The round from my pistol shattered the glass of the second display case. Still at a full sprint, I grabbed the hilt of the sword inside the ruined case and blindly swung the weapon behind me with all my might.

My luck had apparently returned, because not only was the French weapon razor-sharp, but the mummy stood directly behind me as I swung. My wild swing contacted the mummy’s neck and completely severed its head from the thing’s body.

Smiling at my success, I stepped backward several times to observe the preposterous scene of the mummy standing completely still with its bandaged head lying at the creature’s feet.

As my mind began to formulate a thousand questions, to include how and why an Egyptian mummy impossibly reanimated and tried to kill me, the headless mummy fell over.

Finally!

No, wait!

It took me a moment to realize the mummy didn’t fall over, but instead, the thing purposely bent over. Reaching down, the creature grabbed its head, stood upright and placed its severed head back on its neck before again turning toward me.

Are you serious?

TWO

Without pausing to consider how the mummy’s head I cut off moments earlier now remained firmly in place on top of the creature’s shoulders, I quickly attempted to rush past the monster. Instead of escaping, however, I found myself flying across the room, dropping both my weapons, as the mummy backhanded me again with its supernaturally strong arm.

THUMP.

Landing painfully near the exit to the exhibit and now completely unarmed, I painfully scrambled to regain my feet as the undead abomination lumbered toward me again. Limping heavily, I made my way back into the intersection of the six hallways, only to have the mummy grab me from behind and lift my broken and bruised body over its reattached head.

No!

SPLASH.

Landing hard in the decorative fountain, I didn’t think the three-foot-deep water did a single thing to soften my landing as more water splashed down on my head from above.

Ignoring the pain in my body and adjusting myself into a kneeling position, wet and weaponless, I quickly considered my next move as the single-minded, seemingly unstoppable, undead mummy approached.

Think, Nash, think!

Reaching under the water, I absentmindedly filled my fists with coins. Painfully standing in the fountain, water dripping off of me, I prepared to fight the undead creature in hand-to-hand combat as it lumbered closer.

A duel I knew I’d lose.

Why won’t you die? I screamed in defiance at the thing as it reached out to grab me yet again.

With my hands full of coins, I slammed them as hard as I could into either side of the mummy’s head as it wrapped its incredibly strong arms around me.

With the coins falling noisily on the ground around the mummy, the creature released its grip on me. Covering the sides of its bandage-wrapped head with its hands, it stumbled backward in pain while simultaneously howling in rage.

From underneath the hands of the thing, I could see the smoke rising from the sides of the undead monster’s head.

What the hell?

SPLASH. SPLASH. SPLASH.

Thinking fast, I knelt and began splashing water at the monster, assuming my wet hands had somehow hurt the creature. It took me a couple of seconds of splashing water onto the mummy to realize the liquid had absolutely no effect on the thing.

Having recovered from its injuries, the enraged mummy raised its arms to attack and again approached me as I stood helpless and wet in the fountain.

Then I spied the coins on the floor at the thing’s feet.

The coins!

Reaching back into the water, I grabbed two more handfuls of coins and tossed them directly into the chest of the creature.

As the coins bounced off the thing’s torso and fell to the ground, the mummy again stumbled backward in pain, holding its chest where the dozens of coins had struck it.

As the creature roared in anger, I realized several of the coins somehow caused the mummy’s bandages to immediately burn on contact.

Good.

I threw two more handfuls.

Falling to its knees, the Egyptian born abomination continued to howl in pain as several of the coins I threw bounced off its bandages, but several others burned into the thing’s chest cavity as if the coins themselves were red hot and the creature’s body consisted of warm butter instead of rotting bandages.

Still confused at how I had hurt the thing with a handful of small, metal disks, I stared at the numerous coins on the ground around the creature.

Then I saw it.

Or more accurately, I didn’t see it. I didn’t notice any pennies lying among the other coins.

Snatching another handful of coins from under the water, I quickly picked out the pennies, while a few feet in front of me, the kneeling mummy attempted to stop the burning from underneath its bandages by swatting at itself.

Tossing a handful of pennies at the thing, I proved my assumption correct. Reacting as if fired out