Well, when Ralph gave us the news on Kimble and where his room was, I sobered myself up fast and we all headed over to Room 221 on the ship. We'd literally been walking past this mug's room for the past half a week and never knew he was there! We drew our weapons and, Ralph leading, headed slowly into the cabin. It was surprisingly empty inside, and we looked around for Kimble carefully. It was yours truly (and I guess a few of the others too) who spotted something glinting under the bed, something golden. I drew their attention to it, and Ralph slowly nudged out that statue we'd been looking for. It looked something like this:
That was when we all heard a familiar voice, in a Texan drawl from our past, drift from under the bed.
"Been a while since we met up last. Guess y'all been looking for me, haven't you?"
Kimble... That voice made our blood boil, especially Ted and Ralph's. They'd been wanting to bag this weasel since Campeche, and between the four of us I think they hated him most. Of course, we all hated the low-life, even me. Hey, I might be a no-good criminal bartender, but at least I'm no murdering, deserting, two-timing, low-down thief. I never tried to take someone's friend hostage, I never deserted the army, and I sure as hell'd never dream of stealing some priceless artifact from Egypt. That's more Clayton's MO, anyway.
Hell, I can't tell you what happened mostly, but that snake slid his way out through us. A scuffle ensued, and then he was out the door like lightning. I don't have to tell you how quickly we chased after him as he swerved, threw carts in our way, slid under tables, and wove his way through the entire dining room and lounge. He was trying to lose us, and he almost did - you can imagine the commotion from the other passengers! Then, Ralph had an idea.
"Flank him! Spread out!" he bellowed, and we did. We split and wove around, hoping to catch him before he escaped. It worked. I caught up with him and kept him busy. Did I mention I'm a hell of a dab hand with a knife? I always carry my trusty switchblade on me, and I sunk a few good stabs into him before the others caught up and flanked him. Didn't even get hit too hard myself! He's a damn good dodger, though, that Kimble. Hell of a worthy fight if I ever had one. But my street training proved too much, and distracted as he was, we caught him. Just as he was about to head over the railing, Ralph caught up and shot the guy in the knee. He crumbled to the ground, and gave up pretty fast after that. We had him... but we weren't taking any chances this time. We dragged him to the boiler room, chained him there by Ralph's handcuffs, and left him. Ralph and Doc Baker stood guard, while Ted and I went to celebrate a job well done. Ted wanted to relax, and as for me... I had a little lady to chat up.
Her name was Marie VanTeufel, and she was gorgeous. Cute little brunette curls, big doe eyes, sweet little smile, and the kind of body you only see on the silver screen. She was really into me, too, her and her little group of birds. She had read about me in Elias' book, The God of Mitnal, you see, and she was awful impressed to meet a star. Marie was loaded, a rich dilettante with more money than she knew what to do with, and her little flock was heading to Cairo for a Nile cruise as a vacation. We hit it off when I told her I was going to London on business, and she wanted to know more. She was also apparently deep into woo-woo occult magic shit, because the girl told me she was a seer who could contact the dead. Now, I didn't believe in ghosts, but I've seen enough to know magic and monsters are real, and at this point I was willing to believe anything. Besides, she said she might be able to contact Elias, poor guy... maybe he'd be able to tell us what he couldn't before his death, if this were real at all. Hell, she even gave me her room number, and I couldn't pass that up! I was willing to give it a shot, and if not... well, let's just say that the dead wouldn't have been the only thing rising, if you catch my drift.
It would have gone as planned, if Ted hadn't been a killjoy and decided to tag along. Something about keeping an eye on me to make sure I didn't make an ass of myself. Whatever. There were enough dames left for him to snag one up too, if he wanted. We headed down into the engine room for the seance, and even Ralph couldn't deny the beauty of the birds we had following us.
"You men really do have only one thing on your minds, don't you?" Doc Baker tutted as we left. Sure doc, take your high horse now just because us guys wanna have a little fun. We all know you had the hots for Elias, anyway.
We settled in behind the engine, and Marie took our hands. As we shut our eyes and she murmured, focusing... we swore we heard something else in the room. Something familiar. Then, Marie shuddered and another familiar sound hit our ears.
"H-hello? Hello, who is this...? Where am I? It's dark, and I can't see anything..."
We both knew that voice, and it sure as hell wasn't Marie's. "Elias?!" Both of us were in shock. She'd really done it. Ted was especially shocked.
"Friends? Is that you?" Elias murmured. "A-are you okay? Where am I? What happened?"
We couldn't bear to tell him he died, we really couldn't. So instead, we asked him what it was he intended to tell us. He was erratic and scared mostly, a tormented wreck, but he did tell us one thing of importance.
"There's something happening," he muttered conspiratorially. "Something big. There's a conspiracy building, everywhere, all over the world. You have to believe me! They're building a gate. A great gateway to let something horrific in. They must be stopped, at all costs! There's only a year before they succeed. The date of January 16th, 1929."
"We'll stop it, we promise," Ted replied. "Ain't nobody gonna do anything like that on our watch. We're ship-bound to London right now, we found your leads and we're following them."
At that, Elias grew frantic and panicked.
"No... dear God, be careful in London," he fearfully whispered. "The Brotherhood is there. That man cannot be trusted! He's working with them! He's -"
Before we could ask what he meant, there was a sudden shuddering twitch and guttural groan of pain from Marie, and our eyes opened in shock. We watched in horror as her own pupils slowly expanded, engulfing her eyes in a shade of blackest night, like ink had suddenly coated them, and then... another voice. This one darker, this one like infinite voids and timeless dread, a smooth and silken voice of unspeakable malice...
"Oh, Elias... silly child, you'll give away the ending, and then I'd need to do to these girls what I did to those poor guards, wouldn't I...?"
A chill ran down our spines as the room seemed to darken, and the other girls panicked and ran. I don't remember much of what happened, but that voice... it stuck with us. It sounded like dream and nightmare, it mocked us coldly, it seemed like something terrible playing with us. We were in the presence of something evil, and all I could think of was getting Marie to safety. Ted, he froze up, stone cold terrified. I've never seen him so scared of anything in his life before, and that had me seriously questioning my own bravery, too.
At some point, Ralph showed up and threatened the being at gunpoint. We watched in tense fear as the being mocked Ralph's actions. Ralph's grasp shook, his eyes darted between us, he murmured to himself, cold sweat poured down his face... and then I heard him whisper to himself.
"Not again... I don't wanna shoot another girl again... Please..."
"Oh, that would be a bitch, wouldn't it, Ralph?" The being teased, a sinister smile creeping across Marie's baby doll features. "Just like that poor girl with the green ribbons... you do remember her, right?"
Ralph went paler than I've ever seen him, and then, the creature possessing Marie did something awful. It threw back Marie's head, and it laughed, a long and mad cackle of amused glee at the predicament. If Ralph hadn't thought fast and coshed Marie with his nightstick instead... I shudder to think what might have happened. I certainly wouldn't be telling the same story, and it wouldn't have been nearly as happy, would it?
Well, I didn't waste time in getting Marie out of there and to her cabin while the others dealt with Kimble and the rest of the issues. Something about locking him in the basement so he couldn't get out if he slipped his bonds, which I guess he did and he hid in one of the crates. We figured he'd have to come out for water or to piss sooner or later, and when he did, then we'd cuff him again. As for me, I kept an eye on Marie. Hey, say what you want about this street rat booze-seller, but I know how to take care of a lady, and this one needed my help. She was real grateful when she woke up, and well... heh. Things took their course, as they say. Hell of a thank you, if you ask me.
I almost didn't wanna leave in the morning, but I had to. I was gonna take her upstairs for breakfast and coffee, but we were both woken up by a slam on the door. Turns out Kimble had picked the cabin lock while we slept, and made his way upstairs to the top deck. Well, I didn't waste any time in throwing my clothes on and running up to the deck with the others, where we all found Kimble had somehow climbed the railing, was dangling from his good leg and one arm, and was about to jump off. He had the statue with him of course, in a messenger bag of his. Half the people thought he was gonna commit suicide, and we ran to grab him, taking up arms.
Kimble turned to us, smiling as he put the idol in his pack, and gave a little wave with his bad arm. Then he dropped off the railing into what we thought was the cold, cruel ocean... until we heard the sound of an outboard motor kick in. How in the fuck his crew got a yacht, we don't know - probably stole it off someone rich and famous no doubt. Ralph and Ted were livid, and tried to take shots at him, but his men were on board and fired back, leaving us no choice but to hit the deck. We'd lost Walter Kimble, again, and Ralph... well, he took it real hard. I swear when I went to check back on Marie, I heard the man crying in his cabin. He's too hard on himself, really... you ask me, poor guy's got an obsessive streak and a justice complex. Or maybe all that had happened over the past month or so finally made him crack. Whatever did it, I wasn't about to ask. You just don't bother a guy who needs some time alone, you know?
The rest of the cruise, thankfully, went fine. We should make landfall outside of Southampton within the next couple of days. About damn time we got to the British Isles, if you ask me. I've had just about enough of the ocean for a while, and besides - there ain't no prohibition in London.
- Brad "Pretty Boy" Donovan, Hero Extraordinaire (February 8th, 1928)