Book Two - The Psychogeography of Terror

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Eddie Sharpe, journalist

"Lovecraft a cultist? No, I don't reckon so. But I think he is in contact with those that are, who's ideas he uses in his stories.

"6.30 sounds perfect, thanks, Agent Holmes.

" 'Red Hook: Investigate Clinton and Court Streets nr. Borough Hall; the waterfront opposite Governor's Island; houses with columns or pilasters or a many-windowed cupola.' "

[Grognardsw]

The telegraph is sent.

Eddie checks in with his editor at the Arkham Gazette. "I need a story Eddie. It's been too long since your last, and keeping you on the road is costing me money."

The reporter ponders just what he should write. He doesn't want to give away sensitive information, or antagonize th BOI.

Isaiah sits in a nearby chair and sees a passing look of concern pass over Eddie's face.

[Fulci]

Isaiah Bartlett, wise old man

"How long do you think you can withhold crucial information from the press? We don't want to jeopardize the investigation," he says to Eddie after leaving the editor's.

Isaiah hopes the young journalist understands, that this is more important than his newspaper career.

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Eddie Sharpe, journalist

"I know, I know," he replies to his editor via the stick telephone. "Listen, sir, I'm on to something big-- No, no, I can't tell ya what it is-- Patience and time is all I ask, it's gonna be worth it, I assure you, sir!"

He hangs up, and notices Isaiah's concern.

"You look troubled, old man. Don't be; everything's hunky dory with my chief. Er--you couldn't spot me twenty?"

[Grognardsw]

"Two more days Eddie, two more! Than I want to see your byline!" responds the editor grumpily. Eddie can almost see him at the other end of the phone, in his office, his face red.



After lunch...



"All aboard for New York City!" the conductor's cry rings out.

Eddie and Isaiah board.

Feel free to continue the conversation or take other actions before the train leaves.

[Fulci]

Isaiah Bartlett, wise old man

He hangs up, and notices Isaiah's concern.
"You look troubled, old man. Don't be; everything's hunky dory with my chief. Er--you couldn't spot me twenty?"

Isaiah at first cannot understand Eddie's youth talk, but then he realizes, that the journalist is asking for money.

"I can buy you dinner and pay for the train tickets, son," he says.

Before boarding the train, Isaiah has one question to Eddie.
"I just want to be sure... Are you aware of the twistedness of the situation we are dealing with? Do you realize that there are forces, evil forces out there, of an ungodly origin? It isn't just smugglers and bandits we are facing."

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Eddie Sharpe, journalist

"Thank you, Mr. Bartlett.

"Hell! I didn't know it was as bad as that," replies Eddie, secretly guessing that Isaiah is trying to scare him, but he decides to humour the old man--after all, he is buying dinner, "I'll be extra careful. In fact, I ought to buy a pistol. . . ."

[Fulci]

Isaiah Bartlett, wise old man

"A pistol is a good thing to have," says Isaiah, completely missing any hint of irony in Eddie's voice. "But these, these... monsters, they get into your soul."

It's not obvious, whether Isaiah is speaking figuratively. In any case, his idea of a joke or rookie hazing or anything is getting weirder and less funnier with each word.

Do you believe in God, son?

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"Before I answer that, you tell me your take on the divine--good and evil," says Eddie, wondering where Isaiah is going with his question.

[Grognardsw]

The train speeds along as Isaiah and Eddie talk.

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Bit weird, Isaiah asked Eddie a question, but hasn't responded to the reply.

Nice train vid. BTW. Is that off YouTube?

[Fulci]

Isaiah Bartlett, wise and a bit preachy old man

"When I was young, I was sure about the infinite good of our God almighty. But then I learned the hardest way possible, that the divine force faces a great peril, hideous enemies from out of this world."

Isaiah's hands are noticeably shaking. This is the first time he speaks about these things openly since his time in the mental ward.

"Some people are tainted by this evil. The Devil, if you wish. It has many names and none. Who knows - maybe it's not even a singular power. People strike deals with it. They crave power, quick fulfillment. How foolish they are to think that the other side will keep its promise! These fools will be devoured first, after they'd opened the way for the evil into our world."

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Eddie Sharpe, careful journalist

"Thank you, sir, for your honesty," says Eddie, slightly alarmed--he had expected a bible-thumping tirade, but did not expect Isaiah to have said what he did say; words like "delusional" and "crazy" hammer a warning to be careful in his mind. "Er--it's a personal subject and I feel that I can't tell you of my belief or otherwise in God, I hope you understand," he hopes that his answer is not too vague. He says brightly: "Will we get to Noo York soon, Mr. Bartlett?"

[Fulci]

Isaiah Bartlett, wise old man

Isaiah pushes the matter no further.

"I'm just sayin', son, that you have to be prepared for everything and more in this investigation. Uncanny and weird things will happen. And there's no guarantee that we make it out alive or sane."

He looks out of the window: the countryside is slowly morphing into a labyrinth of buildings.

"Looks like we are already getting close."

[Grognardsw]

Manhattan, New York
3:00 pm, Sept. 16, 1925
Isaiah Bartlett, wise old man, and Eddie Sharpe, Arkham Gazette reporter



The elevated train rattles through New York before being swallowed in tunnel darkness on its way to Brooklyn. When Isaiah and Eddie arrive in Brooklyn they'll visit the Red Hook neighborhood police station and check in with a Detective Thomas Malone.

[Fulci]

Isaiah Bartlett, wise old man

Isaiah is, frankly, overwhelmed by the big city. He feels lost in this urban sprawl. He is used to his movement being restrained by two dimensions - here, in New Babylon York, skyscrapers and elevators penetrate the upper regions, tunnels and sewers lead under the ground, with rails and streets criss-crossing between them, seemingly defying all logic and natural law.

Isaiah hates this place already.

"Been here before, Eddie?" he asks his companion. "Because it's up to you to lead us. I can't even read those street signs, my head is whirling from all the smoke..."

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Eddie Sharpe, Arkham Gazette reporter

"Been here before, Eddie?"

"Yeah, 'course I have. I know the city well, and the staff of The Sun," he replies, confidently overstating things. "Let's take a tram to Red Hook and the police station." Possibly Eddie is not quite as serious about the investigation as Isaiah would like, he says, almost licking his chops: "There's a great Texas chilli parlor round this block, most delicious. Want a spicy wrap, Mr. Bartlett?"

[Grognardsw]

Isaiah's not certain his stomach can handle the spicy meal Eddie proposes. The train rattles to a stop in Brooklyn, at the southern section opposite Governer's Island, comprised of dock areas and immigrant neighborhoods. Eddie and Isaiah are reminded of Lovecraft's description of the place from his draft story The Terror of Red Hook.







"Red Hook is a maze of hybrid squalor near the ancient waterfront opposite Governor’s Island, with dirty highways climbing the hill from the wharves to that higher ground where the decayed lengths of Clinton and Court Streets lead off toward the Borough Hall. Its houses are mostly of brick, dating from the first quarter to the middle of the nineteenth century, and some of the obscurer alleys and byways have that alluring antique flavour which conventional reading leads us to call “Dickensian”. The population is a hopeless tangle and enigma; Syrian, Spanish, Italian, and negro elements impinging upon one another, and fragments of Scandinavian and American belts lying not far distant. It is a babel of sound and filth, and sends out strange cries to answer the lapping of oily waves at its grimy piers and the monstrous organ litanies of the harbour whistles. Here long ago a brighter picture dwelt, with clear-eyed mariners on the lower streets and homes of taste and substance where the larger houses line the hill. One can trace the relics of this former happiness in the trim shapes of the buildings, the occasional graceful churches, and the evidences of original art and background in bits of detail here and there—a worn flight of steps, a battered doorway, a wormy pair of decorative columns or pilasters, or a fragment of once green space with bent and rusted iron railing. The houses are generally in solid blocks, and now and then a many-windowed cupola arises to tell of days when the households of captains and ship-owners watched the sea."

The two men make their way to the police station.

"How can I help you gentlemen?" asks the desk sergeant.

[Fulci]

Isaiah Bartlet, wise old man

The most spice Isaiah is used to is salt on his potatoes, so, naturally, he declines any hot Texan wonders this town has to offer.

"Good day, sergeant," he says to the officer when they finally arrive to the station. "We are here to see Detective Thomas Malone. Is he present? Can you direct us to his office?"

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Eddie Sharpe, reporter

Frowning, he surreptitiously wipes chili sauce off of his tie; looking up at the sergeant and nodding when Isaiah asks for the detective.