By Ramsey Campbell
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Extra resources for New Tales of the Cthulhu Mythos
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Lonnie had a way of making things seem better. There was a map of the Crouch End area on the wall of the police station lobby, one considerably more detailed than the one in the London Streetfinder. Farnham approached it and studied it with his hands stuffed into his pockets. The station seemed very quiet now. Vetter was still outside — clearing some of the witchmoss from his brains, one hoped — and Raymond had long since finished with the woman who'd had her purse nicked. Farnham put his finger on the spot where the cabby had most likely let them off (if anything about the woman's story was to be believed, that was).
The moaning sounds continued, but now they sounded lower — guttural, somehow gleeful. Couldn't Lonnie hear that? ' she heard Lonnie ask. 'Is there — oh! Hey! ' And suddenly Lonnie screamed. She had never heard him scream before, and her legs seemed to turn to waterbags at the sound. She looked wildly for a break in the hedge, a path, and couldn't see one anywhere. Images swirled before her eyes — the bikers who had looked like rats for a moment, the cat with the pink chewed face, the boy with the claw-hand.
They had passed a newsagent's window, she said, and the signboard outside had read SIXTY LOST IN UNDERGROUND HORROR. ' He craned around, but the newsagent's was already behind them. " Isn't that what they call the subway? ' 'Yes — that or the tube. ' She leaned forward. 'Driver, do you know what that was about? ' 'A collision, madam? ' But she could see that Lonnie had lost interest. He was going through his pockets again (and because he was wearing his three-piece suit, there were a lot of them to go through), having another hunt for the scrap of paper with John Squales's address written on it.