Chapter 4 - The Ancient Temple
"BOB" awoke with a snort, flailing his arms and falling out of bed. Sunlight was streaming through the leaves of the trees outside the window, making odd puddles of light all over the floor. "BOB" blinked once, twice, then shook his head and stood up. He lit his pipe and picked his hat up off the divan. What a strange dream he'd had! All about a train and a sawmill...but already it was fading into a subonscious memory.
It looked like another beautiful day. "BOB" quickly collected his things and went downstairs. His first stop was the kitchen, but there was nothing edible there: whatever there had been was long since spoiled or stolen.
Shrugging his shoulders "BOB" left the hotel and went back to the stables. What he found there was breathtaking. Apparently there had been a cave-in. The hole was huge, almost as large as the stable itself. Then "BOB" noticed something odd.
When he had gone to the stable the night before he had been confused and, of course, it had been dark. But in the daylight he could see that thtis was not the real stable! The other stable was smaller, for one thing, and much older: the supports and raters of this one were pine and some of them were still bleeding sap!
"Curiouser and curiouser," "BOB" murmured without a touch of ironly. He made his way carefully around the edge of the hole. It was difficult to tell, but it seemed to be some sort of mine shaft. It had been neatly dug; the walls and ceiling were well-supported with huge oaken beams and there was even a pair of rails beginning about ten feet below the surface. Unlike the stable, however, these beams and the rails were old, very old, by the look of them, although the quality of the workmanship was beyond doubt.
There was something else that made no sense here, also. Who in their right mind would bother to put a hard-wood floor in a stable? Yet it was hard-wood that had been broken or torn away from the shaft-opening. Some other building had been here before, but someone had gone to a lot of trouble to conceal that fact by building a stable here instead! Why?
"BOB" left the false-stable and studied it from the outside. It was a fair replica from the outside, but it was, nevertheless, too new to be the same stable that he'd used the last time he was in town. He walked down the street and looked down Morgan road. Sure enough, there was the real stable: smaller and older and quite familiar. He turned back to face the imposter.
What had been thee before? "BOB" racked his brain. He'd only been to town a few times, and only for a short duration each time. And most of that time he'd spent with his mother. "BOB" sucked at his pipe and tried to put the pieces together.
A picture flashed in his mind, but it was gone before he could grasp it and put a name to it. It was harder to remember something that was gone than it was to remember something that was still in existence, even if the latter was miles away. Was it metaphysical, something to do with some sort of vibrations put off by extant entities, vibrations that ceased to exist along with the entity they issued from? Sort of like waves in a pond...?
"BOB" shook his head, frustrated and out of patience. Here was a riddle: he wouldn't find the answer in a book of philosophy. Action was required. And something told him that this was very important, perhaps the key to the missing townspeople and lead to the whereabouts of his mother.
"BOB" went back to the supply-store and made wicks out of cotton. He put on in his lantern and grabbed a quart of oil. Then he went back to the stable and entered the cave.
* * *
The mine shaft was dark, but dry. "BOB" followed the rails into the earth, he wasn't sure how far. The path ran straight for a long time, but eventually it leveled off and shortly thereafter even the little sunlight that filtered in was lost.
The lamp cast spooky, arcane shadows along the walls. The rafters and beams seemed to dance in the light. Up ahead "BOB" could make out a strange shape. As he grew closer he thought he recognized it and he shivered as he drew near enough to have his fears confirmed.
It was an altar.
Where it stood the path widened out to the size of a cavern and the ceiling reached a tremendous height, sloping up at a very wide acute angle, until it pass out of sight. The altar was in the shape of a step pyramid, carved out of a single piece of pink marble. It stood well over fifty feet high and was twice again that wide at the base. Each step was the height of a full-frown-man and at the top there was some sort of statue, but "BOB" couldn't make it out from his position.
There was writing along the pedestal. "BOB" recognized the letters, but most of the words were unfamiliar: ET IN ARCADIA EGO...; I TEGO ARCANA DEI; SI FIDES TUA FORTIS NON EST; DESCEBUS NOX TIMERE, OFFERETE ET PARETE. Shaking his head, "BOB" made his way around the monolith, trying to make some sense out of the words. It was hopeless.
The marble was pink, but in places it was stained a deeper red. "BOB" shivered at the thought, but dared not consider it deeply, merely hoping the stains were as old as they appeared to be.
Summoning his courage, he began to pull himself up the steps. There were thirteen of them in all, including the topmost pinnacle upon which the statue stood. Each level above the base was carved with intricate designs, some decorative, others symbolic. They were reminiscent of Egyptian hieroglyphics, but somehow strangely sinister.
On the third level from the top "BOB" stopped in his tracks, his blood suddenly icy cold in his veins. So great was his shock that he almost dropped the lantern, for there, staring out of the stone, was an engraving of his own face. A huge grin was plastered across his face and the eyes were bright red rubies. Most amazing was the ebony pipe that actually stood out in relief!
The whole thing was vastly oversized, as tall as the real "BOB". The pipe stuck out into the air two feet and the bowl was hollow, with real ashes inside it! "BOB" almost lost his nerve, but he steadied himself by thinking of his mother and his need to gather clues to find her. Although he couldn't understand what this place had to with the universe he knew and loved, he forced himself to study the fresco more carefully.
To the right and left of the Dobbshead were hundreds of semi-human figures wearing animal masks and carrying spears. They were two-dimensional and it was impossible to tell if they were menacing or guarding the image at the center. The pipe, "BOB" noticed, jutted out of the left side of his graven image's mouth, the side opposite to which he usually smoked his own.
Rattled but satisfied that he'd seen enough, "BOB" climbed up to the next level. It held no surprises, but he could see the statue clearly from here.
It was horrible: the stone resembled offal, yet it glimmered and glistened as if it were wet. It had no apparent form: a lumpy alongated mass fifteen feet tall and four feet in diameter at the base with tentacles protruding at odd points, it resembled nothing so much as an undersea stalactite encrusted with seaweed. "BOB' circled it tryig to make some sense of it, but that served only to make it worse, for any alteration of the lighting made the statue seem to shift position. Overall it conveyed little more than madness and an omnipresent threat.
"BOB" found himself utterly disgusted. The whole pyramid scheme seemed designed as a tribute to monstrosity for the sake of monstrosity. It's every aspect reflected a unique sense of the hideous. Most disconcerting of all was the image of his face - his own face! - carved into the side.
In a fit of anger he pulled himself up to the top level, where he stood before the vile statue. Enraged at the unanswered and perhaps unanswerable riddles to which he had thus far been subjected, he cursed the foul statue with the most offensive epithets he could conjure and then struck it with the butt of his pipe.
The statue moved! It bulged and seemed to come to like, suddenly taller than before! "BOB" gasped and took an involuntary step back, almost falling down the pyramid in the process. The statue was rising, but e could now see that it was a mechanical motion, not a volitional one. The base was supported by a small square pedestal which was rising from the center of the pyramid, propelled by some unseen force. Stone grated against stone as the cube became a long box with an open side.
At last it stopped. The opening was man-sized. "BOB" steeled himself and stepped inside. The floor sank slightly beneath his feet, causing him to start, but then the entire box began to sink and he realized this was some form of vertical conveyance. "BOB' held his breath, claustrophobic ancd wary lest this prove to be some form of insidious trap. He had to keep his mother's face at the forefront of his mind to avoid panicking as the box sank into the stone and the opening grew smaller and smaller until it was no longer there.
Then the box began to rotate, and after a moment "BOB" found himself facing a staircase. He exhaled, relieved not to be entomed, and stepped out of the box.
The staircase was iron, and it spiraled around the box, growing slowly wider as it descended. "BOB" followed it until he knew he was far below the base of the pyramid.
At the bottom the stairwell opened onto a large room decorated in a macabre fasxhion. All along the wall at eye level a marron banner was festooned like crepe paper at a party, the arcs supported every six feet by a large golden disc engraved with runes unpleasant to the eye. The walls themselves were strips of ivory and obsidian each a foot wide, giving the room a dazzling effect. "BOB" realized that there was some form of ambient lighting at work here, but he could not find its source. When he extinguished his lantern, however, the entire room grew dark.
Cursing, "BOB" relit the lantern and was surprised to see that merely striking the match brightened the place far more than was reasonable. He looked up and saw that ten feet above him he was peering down at himself. The whole ceiling was a mirror!
"BOB" searched the room. The floor was more red marble, flawless and seamless, stretching at least thirty feet by thirty. In each corner a pedestal of gold with silver fluting supported a miniature statue: one was in the classical style, a handsome man with a gloomy face; another was a woman with six arms and sharp fangs; yet another was of a dog-faced man with an ankh at his side; the last was shapeless, a semi-ovoid form with a flattened base seeming to drip over the edges of the pedestal.
Closer examination of the statues revealed that they were all cut from glass, and the last had a malignant-looking emerald at its center. Furthermore, the pedestal were engraved with characters that seemed to dance at the feet of the statues, perhaps indicating a name or a title.
There was an exit, a narrow doorway that led to a hall with mirrors on the ceiling and green and red patterened carpet on the floor. here again the walls were of stone, granite this time, roughly hewn and with sharp edges. "BOB' followed the all through a series of right angle turns that served to absolutely befuddle is sense of direction. The farther along he went, the narrower the hall became and the more obtuse the turns, until at last he swas edging along sideways like a crab through a looping, twisting passage with no apparent end.
Then seddenly he saw a bright light. The hall opened up and he entered a small room with a door at the opposite end. This room was well-lit, with torches blazing away in sconces along the walls. "BOB" stoood in the center of the room and watched the door open. Out stepped a man who could have been his double. The grinning, leering face held his own, as if by force.
"Hello, "BOB"," the duplicate said. "I've been waiting to meet you for a long, long time!" Then he punched him in the mouth and "BOB" knew no more.
* * *
"BOB" came back to himself a mass of aches and pains. He was lying prone on a hard mattress with a bright light shining in his face. There was a crust of blood on his shirt and his mouth was sore where the stranger had hit him.
Just as he was about to sit up, the stranger's face loomed over his own and he placed a restraining hand on "BOB" 's chest.
"Hey, "BOB", what's your hurry? You just got here!" His double pressed hard on "BOB"'s chest, forcing the air out of his lungs and leaving him gasping. The man walked away and "BOB" followed him with his eyes.
"Stick around, we've got a lot to talk about," the fellow said over his shoulder. His back was to "BOB", but "BOB" could see him putting on a pair of rubber gloves and fiddling with something on a table. There was a basin of water on the table, along with a few other tiems. "BOB" saw a knife lying next to the basin and hesitated no more.
He leapt to his feet, numb below the knees, but determined to move, and ran across the room. He grabbed the stranger's head just as he turned around with a truncheon in his hand. "BOB" slammed the man's head against the wall and grabbed his arm, knocking the club loose. With a kick he sent the table flying and the various implements thereupon clattered to the black and white tiled floor.
"BOB" drew back his arm and gave the bastard double what he'd invested in sucker punches. But this guy was no glass-jaw. With tremendous strength he swung "BOB" around and kicked him in the groin. Groaning, "BOB" swayed and waited for the guy to press his advantage; when he did, "BOB" was ready. He grabbed his arm and pulled, throwing his adversary to the floor. With a grunt he landed on the guy's chest with both knees and drove the wind out of him. he then proceeded to work him over in true cowboy style, blackening his eyes and pulping his nose, finishing off that left the poor runt puking.
"BOB" laid off, but he never relaxed his grip for a second. When he'd finished puking "BOB' gave him one last cuff on the cheek for good measure and then pressed his head to the floor. "Listen up and listen good, buggy," "BOB" snarled in his ear, "I'm tired of being pushed around. You and me are going to have a heart to heart, we're going to put our two heads together and come up with some answers, am I making myself clear? Am I?"
With a feelbe nod the guy indicated that yes, he understood. "Good," "BOB" said, "let's start with a name. How about yours, for example?"
" "OBO"," "OBO" breathed.
" "OBO"?" "BOB" repeated. " "OBO"? That's a stupid nam! Where'd you get a name like that?"
"OBO" glared at him out of the corner of is eye. "The same place you got yours, "BOB"-by boy!" He giggled maliciously.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" "BOB" demanded, tightening his grip on "OBO"'s spine.
"Just what I said, "BOB"," "OBO" replied. "Haven't you put two and three together yet? Or didn't Jane teach you about that?"
"BOB" turned cold. "What do you know about my mother, you dirty sonofa..."
"Language, "BOB", language!" "OBO" chided. "Jane wold be scandalized!"
"Don't you use her sainted name again, or you'll be sorry!" "BOB" cried, tweaking "OBO"'s nose viciously.
"Ouch! Okay, okay!" "OBOB" gasped. "Alright, okay, what do you want to know?"
"What do you know about my mother?" "BOB" said. "Where have you taken her?"
"I didn't take her anywhere."
"Where is she?"
"I don't know!"
"BOB" slapped him, hard. "Where is she, "OBO"?" he spat.
"I don't know, really, I don't know!" "OBO" cringed, waiting for another slap. When it never materialized he opened his eyes and peeked out at "BOB" through the slits.
"How do you know about her, then?" "BOB" asked at last.
"OBO" grew cheeky again. "BOB" was obviously a softy; "OBO" 's have slapped "BOB" over and over again had the positions been reversed. "Haven't you figured that out by now? Look at my face, "BOB"," he sneered.
"BOB" slapped him. "Just the facts, please, "OBO"; I don't care for your interpretation, and I'm starting to forget whatever little I once knew about mercy."
"OBO" was terrified. "BOB" glowered over him like some horrible living god and "BOB" better than anyone else, better even than "BOB" himself at this point, knew how much truth there was in that simile. He suddenly decided it was in his own best interest to cultivate "BOB" 's mercy, not ridicule it, and start spewing information as he'd already spewed his breakfast.
"We're twins, "BOB"," "OBO" admitted bluntly.
"BOB" was stunned. He relaxed his grip for just a second and leapt away. "Stop!" "BOB" cried, but it was too late. "BOB" touched the wall and muttered some incomprehensible phrase. A door appeared and he darted through it. "BOB' got to his feet just in time to crash into the door as "BOB" slammed it shut behind him, and to hear his twin's running footsteps grow fainter as he headed down the hall. "BOB" slapped the wall and cursed, trying to duplicate his brother's actions, but it was no use. The door was as good as gone.
Pounding his fists against the wall in frustration, "BOB" howled, "OBO-O-O-O-O-O-O!"
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