Carl Ellis November 1928 - Diary

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"They have left, finally. All of them off to their respective homes, or to wherever they feel needed. A blessed relief to see them all, and too, a blessed relief to see them gone.... Perhaps, despite my good intentions, I shall be up until dawning again. 'Tis always the way, after a Gathering. So much to set down before the memories fade...."

From the diary of Pierre Farquell

18 November 1928; Arkham, 3:15 AM --'

His words; more than seventy-five years gone, and still so clear. They mean much more now.

I felt at first as though I ought to open this book with something clever, something important-sounding. But important-sounding things have a deplorable tendency to sound trite or hollow when re-read later; therefore, this. A simple beginning.

And here we are.

The Gathering. First in years, since 1921. Twenty-two of us collected together: To meet, to talk, to laugh and to argue; to share, to plan, and to dream.

To honor the ones who are gone; and to begin again, I hope, to rekindle a spark of the dream. A beginning -- yes. Please let it be a true one.

They have laid the mantle of leadership upon me. Formal acclaim, unwanted or not; the elders as well as the new. A unanimous vote of confidence, both heartening ... and terrifying.

It is like SG says; now they are depending on me. Arc approached me after, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Carl," he said to me. "I remember what happened to the last two leaders we had. I'm sorry."

The party was GOOD! All those people, all the ideas ... there were some terrific debates! Like a live wire -- vital -- immediate! Unexpected and rewarding appearances by Alex Chase, and Sir Cedric Fentingmore, back from somewhere distant and strange. Odd to meet him at last after all the build-up. Funny little monkey of a man ... possessor of quite a brilliant and incisive mind, but on so many things we disagree.

It is difficult to forge a new Family, and so hard to tell what has just been born. This Gathering has not become what I initially hoped for ... our simple, intimate hopes for closeness and caring have become impossible. The thing has gotten too large, with too many people with too many needs and plans. Nevertheless, it has begun.

Now, we must build -- must wait and see.

Miss Durrell was glorious as Speaker for the Dead. I was moved, truly moved ... and so were they all. Clear, precise in the light of the single candle, and with each name, a blow felt around the circle, eyes flinched in sorrow at an unrecoverable loss. We were together, then. All of us. Remembering.

They all banded together against Miss Crawford's letters too. Mrs. Chandler. How sad! I do not see why she did it -- but she has driven them all away, knowingly or not; she could not have created more anger and repugnance had she set out to do so. A tragedy ... so many of them will never speak to her again -- and have asked me never more to use their names with her. Such a beginning. Sigh!

The unveiling of the Treaty was almost anticlimactic by comparison. They listened; they read; they agreed to poner, to suggest, to visit and study Zelda, and ultimately to decide. No fuss, really. Will it work? We shall see.

A moment of quiet truth, after dinner. The Ten all gathered in the breakfast room and closed the door in private conference. After their open support a few moments earlier, I was worried and upset by this schismatic act, but after twenty minutes I was called in. "We wish it understood, Carl, that we are no longer a separate group. Do not single us out because we are Trained ... we join you fully and wish our difference forgotten."

Well! Such a surprise -- and so obvious that they did not understand. I told them that they were welcome, wholly equally and joyously; but I would not condone such a forgetting. What they were, what they had been, was part of them and part of us, a rich tapestry of experience linking them to a lovely and noble history. Remember it with pride, for you have been something great; let your experience help us all to grow. Welcome, I said, and took them all in warmly. It was a heady instant.

Impressions, before I get back to work; I shall not sleep this night:

- Tony squiring Alexandria around, as belligerently proud and nervous as I've seen him, obviously possessive and doting; - Theo's words, after the vote: "Please, Carl! I believe that what you do is sometimes necessary -- but be careful what you choose to do!" - Alex's words, about the NSs: "Can they be helped? Can they be saved? I have fought all my life to drive them out -- but if they can be cured, I HAVE TO TRY!" - Emerson's appearance: Haggard, thin, unhealthy from lack of sleep ... but with a fierce excitement in his eyes that makes me uneasy. - Lazlo; and Tony; and Alex: Promise us, Carl: Never tell Meagan anything about us! - Julian, glowing glorious gold at dinner, so proud and happy for her man I could burst with it; - Hollyfeldt's stunned disbelief, when at last he was introduced to Alexandria.

Oh, so rich, so rich! The jokes, the laughter; the suggestions to Clay that he Cross soon, or else he'll die first! Such a marvelous couple of days!

And tomorrow -- today -- it concludes, with plans and assignments for all. The Turkey group leaves in the morning by air; the others less precipitously, each in his fashion. We shall stay to Friday, and go to Tony's Thanksgiving.

And all of us will meet again, at the Big House, in July! A ritual re-born.

Oh! Oh!

In silence, my heart sings.

Monday, 19 November 1928; Arkham --

Once we begin, we move quickly. A number of tasks assigned, though most do not start up until after the New Year. Sunday was devoted to interviews and long private talks with various folk. Maddy arrived at last! Only too late for all the fun. She looks splendid, and is on her way to the Estate for private study.

Tony, Gordon and I went out to the Reservoir site early this morning to looksee. We took Andrew's warning very seriously, and went well equipped with protective masks and garments. I am glad we did.

The place is foul; eerie, gray and dead; encrusted with sickness and a patina of phosphorescent grey ash ... and something more. Nothing lives there, save for the Thing in the well. Andrew warned us. It is all indescribably repugnant.

The water in the reservoir has not yet approached the dead spot, so there is still time. We collected samples and took a lot of photographs of the things we found. Of special note, the bodies of the two farmers are still in the old house after forty years, simple piles of bone and unhealthy grey ash. They never sought to leave, and nobody thought to seek after them, or give them proper rest.

When I clipped a sample from one of the dead trees in the yard, every one of the trees shuddered like a live thing! There is something there yet, binding everything together into an unhealthy semblance of function.

The well is the center of the place. The water there is thick, murky, bright with the taint of the thing. Its bottom is fouled with bits and pieces of ... prey. Bones, hair, jewelry -- I was so frightened, I wanted to leave more than anything lest It should awaken or return and find us unprepared.

Egghhh! Poison, death, corruption.

When we left, with our samples carefully placed in sealed containers, we left our gloves and galoshes and other outerwear there. The feeling of contamination was too strong -- we wished nothing of that Place to touch us! I am more than ever convinced that this alien thing is somehow connected with the Plague.

I HOPE the folk in Turkey will be careful!!

All in all we collected more than enough convincing stuff to show the Medical Examiner's people that the place is unhealthy and should not be allowed into the water supply. Gordon will now do some work with the samples to try and put a more formal conclusive face on the thing, and I shall get the photos developed. I'm sure Clay will help. We're all meeting tomorrow morning at Gordon's to plan the next move -- such a relief to be able to do something decisiv, legitimate, and above-boards!

Eh. I took two baths. I felt unclean.

A letter from Hannah Rhyner was waiting for me back at the house. She is well, but is concerned. King, it seems, is paying her rather more attention then she feels is strictly cricket. Why?

Doesn't sound cricket to me ... either!

She has been ensconced somewhere with this Cromwell as her protector. Something is very wrong in Chicago -- Are we being betrayed?

Maddy spent some time with Carl, says he is openly and gleefully infatuated by Zelda... I am scared. This is not like him! He seems to have lost sight of what we are up to, of his own part and purpose -- what seduction is this?

I shall not be caught --- Lord! How pompous and grandiose I sound! -- I do not wish to have our fragile little band caught up and torn asunder by the desires and politics of the Nightsiders. Emerson's obsession, or seeming obsession, with Zelda is unexpected and alarming. Vigilance! Vigilance! She has needs of her own, they all do; I feel threatened.

The whole thing reeks suddenly.

I called Alex Chase up to talk to Gordon about what we've found, and this evening I shall go to speak with Carl and Zelda myself.

Much Later ---

Better ... a little. Long interesting talk with the two of them; I am in some measure put at ease. For the moment at least, I no longer feel that she is merely being devious ... she, as Zelda, seems honestly to care about him quite a bit, though it is not really a human sort of affection.... and I thing I begin to see the measure of their masks. They are not piecemeal things, but wholes; difficult to change a piece without changing it all.

But Zelda will not always be Zelda. Someday the whole will change, and what then? One of the importances of the treaty is that it defines standards of behaviour that are external to the individual.

Curious to note that perhaps her interest in Carl may be the one thing that keeps Zelda Zelda. That "keeps things interesting," as she might say.

Yet, despite all this, it does not improve my worries overmuch. It is not Zelda that occupies my thoughts; it is Carl,. Carl seems to have decided suddenly that all of his responsibilities can simply be "put on the shelf" while he runs out and plays! I can certainly understand some of this -- after all, he is more or less locked up with Zelda and ought yo try to enjoy his incarceration -- but what of the rest?

- What of his ongoing investigations? - What of his experiments? - What of Pembroke, whom he is guiding? - What of the Children who are supposed to be in his care? - What, dear God, of Mrs. Williams? He no longer seems to care. It is not that he has forgotten about her, no; but he dismisses her from conversation! Where, now, is the intensely caring fellow who has asked her to marry him? Who has been her devoted friend for years, and her protector? Where is the man who vowed, ashen-faced, that whomsoever so much as touched her would be destroyed at his hands? He has heard from her, as I have, and he dismisses her worries offhandedly, between telling me of a wild gin party he is planning and reassuring me that "he knows what he is doing."

Sure, he knows. Hah.

Tuesday, November 20, a928; Evening in NYC --

Events move quickly still, and I am even more upset and worried now.

Theo and I have stopped in New York City this evening, on our way to Washington. I took the opportunity to develop our pictures of the Dead Spot at Carl's house. The luminescence does not show up well in the prints, but the barren devastation of the site is starkly clear.

We met this morning at Gordon's house to discuss the Plague situation. Gordon showed us the results of some tests he's done -- very grim. He fed some of the well-water to a mouse or two ... within minutes it was dead, and less that twelve hours later the poor creature was literally flaking apart before us, the body decomposing into loose flakes of grey ash!!!

Like the farm. Like the farmers.

Tony brought along his huge body of notes and documents taken from the clinics. We shared them around, and were dismayed by the lethality and virulence of the stuff.

There is no way around it. We must go public.

So, three parallel plans:

ONE: Gordon is putting together a preliminary review of the things we found at the Farm. Together with my photos, and the autopsy results done on the poor mouse, this will be put in Clay's hands tomorrow, for presentation to the state Medical Examiner's office. Our goal is to get them to stop the flooding of the valley before this nastiness gets into our water supply. At least, Clay's report will get them to send their own investigators to the site. Its danger will not be questioned.

TWO: Once this is done, probably by tomorrow, Gordon will start work full-time on the problem of the Plague. The notes and samples which we have, of the various forms of Disease, make up a substantial body of work with which to begin. We shall cover his expenses, and arrange for the eventual creation of a research facility where we may continue study of all of these things in safety. Alex Chase has a serious interest as well; perhaps he will also take part.

THREE: Theo and I are taking the bull by the horns, and are now going to Washington to present the Authorities (in this case, a friend of Theo's in the Secret Service) with a carefully trimmed case showing the existence of a conspiracy of unknowns to disrupt the peaceful livelihood of our nation, and possibly others as well. We spent hours yesterday and today working out the details; I am convinced that we may do this without implicating ourselves or our friends in any of the criminal things that have happened. It will be such a relief to pass it on to competent authority!! But scary too -- VERY scary -- to lose control of things this way.

The biggest danger will be of the Dark discovering our little plot through their people inside; so we have emphasized the existence of known conspiracy members in and near the government, and the likely existence of other unknowns.

We shall see. Brr! Scary -- but it feels good, too ... Things -- IMPORTANT things -- are moving at last!

Wednesday, 21 November 1928; Washington --

Another night spent on trains, and a late morning arrival here, in the nation's Capitol.

I have never been to Washington before, and I really had no idea what it would be like. Oh, one reads the stories, and hears all the same descriptions of monuments and governmental houses as all the other schoolchildren, but once again experience has no substitute.

My principal regret is that I have had so little time to see it now -- and I have been, understandably, distracted. Someday Julian and I must come here to explore this rather impressive place. But, I suppose, it is best that she is not here now, else I should constantly be waiting for Marklin to leap out of the shadows and try a grab!

Hum.

Washington is broad and park-like, spread gracefully along the banks of the Potomac. Everywhere, newly-wintered trees spider into the sky, the last few leaves still clinging to their branches.

Central to it all is the Mall, a broad sweep of open land that stretches a couple of miles, from the river to the Capitol building. Across the river lies Arlington, where the Great War's thousands lie buried. And, midway between the Capitol and the Potomac, the George Washington Monument spears into the sky, like Cleopatra's Needle grown impossibly huge and graceful in a dream. Five hundred fifty five feet of smooth white marble, looking down on red brick mansions, elegant hotels and theaters, the galleries, the museums, the great Library, and of course the White House, lovely classical mansion not far from the Monument's foot.

It is a city of memorials and symbols, and an inspiring reminder to me of what this nation truly is. America! How unfashionable, these days, to praise her name so fervently ... yet here, and now, I am filled with patriotic love for this great homeland. Everywhere here is simple artistry, renderings in stone of homage to the Principles on which this country stands.

Truth! Freedom! Liberty! Equality! How much more they mean, now, than before. America is made by the hands and lives of men, a flawed but glorious earthly attempt at Unity, carved from soil and spirit. I am inspired.

We met Theo's friend in the afternoon, in a small room-behind-one-of-a-thousand-identical-doors sort of place. A pleasant fellow, obviously holds Theo in high esteem; and once we laid our case, he was quite concerned and serious about the whole thing,

The evidence was laid out just as we'd planned, including the admonishment about possible high-ranking conspiracy members; he very convincingly agrees that something must and will be done.

So -- the die is case, the arrow loosed from the bow. We shall never know what steps they take, or what, precisely, they find; the thing will be done very quietly, by Friend and his trusted comrades. If we learn anything, it will be through Theo, and long after the fact. We shall also have to curtail our own activities in certain areas -- else we might be caught up by the folks who, unknowing, are our allies! But it's done. Now we can look forward to another long train ride through the night; then I shall be with her once again.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day. The three hundredth one, more or less; I forget precisely.

Amazing, how much I have to be thankful for.

Thursday, 22 November 1928; Boston; Evening --

Fate twists us cruelly, it seems, and it is as well that I have a sense of humor and perspective, else I should be bitterly angry as well as merely cut to the core. I look upon my last line above and laugh, but it is not a happy laughter.

No surprises getting here. Washington to New York to Boston; long but peaceful. The others met us at the station. It was good, it was good: Prodigal sons come home, reunited after a successful venture. Good: to shake the others' hands, look them in the eyes, and know that we have done well.

Simple pleasures. And of course, my lady was there; feast after famine. A look, a smile, a touch; silly words spoken small; and that tremulous radiance that fills me, golden and warm to the heart. Complete once again!

The trouble began when we arrived at Tony's house. That is when we were shown the article, and knew that the Dark has started firing back.

They have loosed the Plague. People are starting to die.

The article is small, of interest but little alarm to most folks. It describes an outbreak of influenza in a region near Kansas City. Twenty or thirty people have already caught it and succumbed... it is clearly a warning shot, a threat aimed directly at us. There can be no other reason ... and the non-coincidence of JOSEPHINE RINGER as a Health Service spokeswoman is too deliberate to ignore:

"You have hurt us, but we are strong. Tamper no more, or we shall obliterate the things you hold most dear!"

There was much anguish in the house, and much heated debate, but the simple truth is that there is nothing that we can do, now. The stuff is too easy to distribute -- whomever was there is now long gone.

Still, the shot has been fired. It changes everything, in small ways. It is one more thing to point to -- one more bit of evidence.

And I must confess this: that te first thing I thought of, when the shock had settled and the icy chill ceased numbing my brain, was: "Thank God! Thank God we got to tell our story first. They would never believe us now."

Those poor people. What a loss And they will never know why, nor believe it if they were told. The victims of a war that has now truly begun: the Enemy has started killing civilians.

...but we were guests in Tony's home, here for the holiday festivities, and so it was our duty to join them in good cheer. Difficult at first -- but they were so friendly, so homey, that it became easier after a while.

Impressions: Grimaldis everywhere! Actually there are only the three -- Tony, and his aunt and uncle -- but all of their Family friends are cut from the same cloth. Too, the elder Grimaldis are both naturally charismatic; they fill the room for several. Gracious, used to wielding authority, yet not pushy. Nice folk; even if I have a hard time condoning their way of life.

(Yet ... are we so different? Sigh.)

We -- our people -- easily dominated the table. It must have been a bit uncomfortable for the others; we so diverse, and so unknown. Rebecca was there, and Carl, and Zelda; and the three of us; Theo; with only three Grimaldis and a quartet of "friends", how strange indeed!

I do not know what we are to do.

Friday, 23 November 1928; westward bound --

Again! Another blow! It does not stop, does it? No! Oh, I know, I know it is no further sorrow, we were merely living in borrowed ignorance. I should not rail on so; but the magnitude of the loss fills me -- and I feel the touch of blame in it too strongly to set it all aside.

Today, the President-Elect, Herbert Hoover, died. Of the Ponic Plague, I believe; the Kansas City Flu, they're calling it now.

What a disaster! DID THEY KNOW???

It seems his train passed through Holliday, Kansas a few days ago.

How could they have been so sure? Or, did they seed the place because they knew?

Westward bound. I have nothing more to say.

Monday, 26 November 1928; South of Oregon --

Another day or two and we will be home. Home. It seems like forever.

We passed through Montana yesterday, Bigtimber some time mid-morning. Less than fifty miles from his house; one could not see the peak from the train. I wonder how he is? Wrote a letter, in a passing mood of extravagance; he should have it by the time we are home.

I have been poor company these past few days. So many things have happened! From Gathering to the Reservoir, Washington to the news of the Plague, all in a week's time. It has affected me. Up and down, elation to despair. More than anything else, I have been impressed by an enormous sense of BURDEN.

The task just seems so impossible sometimes.

I feel as though I should have so much to say. So many thoughts on the subject. I must, I suppose; yet none of them are clear, none articulate enough to write here. Merely a blur of washed, turmoiled emotions, and scattered fragments of scenery I do not recognize.

Thank Heavens for Julian.

We left Friday morning from Boston, on a grey windless day rather suited to my mood. The route we took was northerly, through Chicago, so as to miss the quarantined area.

Damnation! Still it hurts!

Chicago, through Minnesota, and along the Great Northern tracks to Seattle. We came close, again, to Lucius' island, and to ruined Wintershaven.

Enough. This contemplation hurts my mood.

Wonder how he is? Have heard nothing so far.

I feel as though we're fleeing the scene of a crime.

...Julian, as always, has been very helpful. Thank God for her! She is used to my moods, and is so good for me. Jewel beyond price indeed!

Home. Two days.

Hurry.

Wednesday, 28 November 1928; Home --

At last! It feels so good to be here! The healing is beginning, amidst my things and the enormous amount of work that must be done after a long absence.

There has been a lot of rain, so that even though the watering cans are long empty, the window boxes are green and the cat is healthy. It is easy to see where he has been living: there are well-marked trails of dried paw prints and shed fur between the kitchen, the door, and his favorite haunts. Quite a creature of habit, our Peanut!

The yard is overgrown and the lawn is rank and uneven ... but it is wet winter now , and most of the gardening must wait 'til Spring. We shall, however, plant new seeds for Rachel's indoor flowerpots, so we will have blooms inside where it is warm when the frosts come. That will be soon.

Ah, home! Evening now -- the radio playing a fugue, the fireplace filled with light -- Ah! So nice!

We arrived shortly after one and set things right and switched things off before collecting the Children. The house and lab were undisturbed.

Now I can feel the relaxation coming over me. Flicker-flicker; and glimpses of new things too, plots and plans for the new year.

- Will I hear from New Mexico? - Will King accept the latest Treaty? - Will Theo's friends find the plot, and cripple it without being destroyed? - Will WE? - Will Gordon be able to help us? - Will the Old Guard have success in Turkey, or Byron and the rest in Ithaca?

And, too .... What what? How can I help? What is my next move? Hmm....

I am filled with a desire to meet my House once again, now that I have met the others, now that I know more of what to look for. But, I think, not now. Not tonight -- not while the fire burns, while the music plays and the rain caresses the roof overhead, and my beautiful girl smiles at me from the throw rug by the hearth.

Oh! I feel like a King!