Continues....

As we set about our preparations we were accosted by a group of rebel soldiers led by a Miss Phillipe, with several of us taken prisoner at gun point. It was only thanks to the well-placed diplomacy of Mr. Harding and the other gentlemen that we managed to convince Miss Phillipe that we were not in the employ of the government, and thanks to the application of narcotics from my private supply and butterscotch from Dr. Wickham-Banks we were able to enlist her help. She concurred that the journey down the mountain was too dangerous at night, but agreed to guide us to civilisation in the morning.

As she and her men prepared us all a meal we were shocked to see the appearance of a spectral figure outside in the darkness. This ethereal manifestation, clad in monks robes and grasping a tome of some sort beckoned us into the woods as if attempting to warn or protect us, but after a short distance the apparition vanished. It may have been this or the contents of the Aztec pictograms which triggered something of a nervous fit in Miss Strongbow, who raved for a time and attempted to destroy many of the documents she had worked so hard to translate before being restrained by several of the gentlemen. Mr. Da Luz seemed unaffected, but was withdrawn and largely silent regarding his discoveries, which I suppose should have perhaps warned us as to the terrible turn of events that awaited him.

There was much debate regarding recent events over dinner, at the end of which the entire mountain was rocked by an earthquake of sizeable proportions; sufficiently strong to knock us from our feet, but thankfully causing no serious injuries. Those more adventurous souls who ventured out into the darkness to assess the damage discovered what I suspect may have been the cause of the seismic disturbance. A corkscrew-like metallic device had appeared in the woods near the mine entrance, seemingly having bored its way up out of the ground. It glowed with an unnatural red light and was surrounded by a triangle of lights, within which the ground appeared scorched and blackened. Two of Miss Phillipe’s men ventured into the triangle to investigate and were instantly struck dead by some terrible and excruciating malady that caused them to cry out pitifully in paroxysms of agony before expiring in a matter of moments.

We hardly had time to take in this latest turn of events when we were confronted by a creature that defies any earthly comparison. How best to describe it? Seemingly of humanoid proportions, and clad in outlandish and seemingly impervious armour, this creatures arms ended in a mass of writhing tentacles and its face was a appalling demonic visage that I have only seen in my most delirious, drug-induced hallucinations. It pursued us from the woods towards the mine buildings, all the time being fired upon ineffectually by the gentlemen in a vain effort to see it off. We were forced to retreat further and further before the creature’s onslaught and feared greatly for our lives when the ghostly apparition of the monk returned and somehow managed to halt its advance. The unearthly beast retreated into the woods where it stood in silent vigil over the infernal glowing machine, as we retreated into the building to assess our worsening position.

A further analysis of the papers we had uncovered led us to conjecture that the creature in the woods was the same that Mr. Sutherland had unwittingly summoned and unleashed upon the miners, but we could find no mention of any subterranean device. We did however find a reference to the ghostly apparition, who some of us believed may hold the key to our very survival, but seemed powerless to communicate in anything other than oblique gestures. It was eventually suggested that we conduct an ancient Aztec ritual to speak with the spirits of the dead, which Mr. Da Luz and Miss Strongbow had only lately translated, and despite many misgivings from various quarters we made preparation and carried out the appropriate rite.

Upon the conclusion of the ritual the ghost once again appeared, only this time able to converse with us. It appeared that this was the long-departed spirit of Father Silvio Alvarez, a monk who had accompanied a party of conquistadores on a mission not dissimilar to our own nearly four hundred years ago. Apparently he had encountered a similar machine and a sample of the Blood of Titlacahuan, which had proved to be the cause of his demise. He suggested that the solution to our predicament lay in his codex, which was buried with his earthly remains not far from the mine, and so a party was duly dispatched to unearth his corpse and recover the book.

After many fruitless attempts we finally discovered the monk’s grave, and his codex, which revealed the fate of the last group of men who had attempted to rob the El Triunfo mine of its blasphemous secrets. Just as Sutherland had, the conquistadors had delved too greedily and too deep which resulted in the appearance of the machine we had recently discovered in the woods, which was in fact an explosive device of some unknowable design which at dawn would (if left unchecked) eradicate all biological device in South America!

From this moment on, events moved with increasing pace and mounting terror. As we vainly grasped for a mechanism to prevent the impending cataclysm we were again attacked by the creature and several undead servants, and this time we were not so fortunate – Miss Strongbow and the stalwart Mr. Wittingham (who had been so active in our defence) were claimed by the beast only to reanimated into a parody of life moments later. Mr. Tepp escaped death, but the touch of the creature carried some form of horrific wasting infection which rapidly took hold of him. Dr. Wickham-Banks did what he could for him, even convincing him to drink a sample of the mysterious liquid we had discovered earlier in the day, but to no avail. He too soon succumbed to the cold embrace of death and rose again to terrorise his comrades.

In the brief moments of respite between these terrible events we fell upon the process by which it might prove possible to avert disaster. It appeared that the explosive device was powered by the Blood of Titlacahuan which Sutherland had mentioned, and Dr. Levitt (who had long since fled into the night) and the mine geologist had discovered a chemical process by which it could be rendered harmless (a sample of which we had found and had been drunk by the unfortunate Mr. Tepp). We conjectured that if we could remove the Blood of Titlacahuan from the machine, render it harmless and replace it the bomb could be safely detonated without damage to human life. Indeed Dr. Levitt’s notes suggested that the treated Blood could in fact destroy the terrible and unseen beings that had created it and sent their terrible servant to act as guardian. The only problem that remained was how to remove the Blood from the machine – all those who approached it were instantly killed.

Mr. Da Luz volunteered a solution. He had translated a ritual that allowed the wearer of a ritual mask to re-animate and control a corpse, which may prove immune to the destructive aura surrounding the bomb. It seemed so natural at the time to agree to his request to perform this blasphemous rite; what else could we hope to do?

In the meantime the continued attacks of the creature and its undead minions had claimed a number of further victims. Dr. Wickham-Banks had been raked by a zombie, resulting in an infection which he sought to stem by amputating his own leg. Despite the operation being completed successfully fate held a cruel twist in store, for it was at this exact moment that the creature chose to once again assail us. Dr. Wickham-Banks was powerless to escape and was quickly destroyed in the hideous tentacular grasp of the monster, and then rose to assail us from beyond the veil of death. Mr. Winterburn became his tragic victim, stumbling as he retreated before the relentless pursuit of the dead doctor. Only moments later Mr. Goddard was overwhelmed as he got left behind in our collective flight. It is a terrible memory of those awful events, hearing his desperate cries for help and his subsequent venomous berating of those fortunate enough to escape.

As our numbers dwindled it seemed that we had no choice but to support Mr. Da Luz in his attempt to animate a corpse. It was only at the successful conclusion of the ritual that we realised our folly; his brain fatally corrupted by the vile treatise that he had worked so feverishly to translate, he succumbed to the same lust for evil and unholy power that had destroyed Sutherland. With a maniacal laugh he threw up a terrible cry to the dark gods of the Aztecs and ordered the freshly animated corpse of Mr. Winterburn to attack us. Thankfully, the swift actions of my remaining comrades were enough to dispatch them both.

Those few of us who now remained resolved to put an end to the madness and death once and for all. Miss McCarthy repeated the ritual and duly sent the zombie to recover the Blood from the machine, and we feverishly set about the process of neutralising it. This process was somewhat hampered by the rapidly deteriorating mental state of many of my surviving companions, with both Mr. Malone and Mr. Harding becoming increasingly paranoid and agitated.

Finally the chemical process was completed and the reanimated corpse under Miss McCarthy’s control replaced the substance in the machine, which now began to glow green instead of red. All that remained was to conduct the ritual to detonate the device which would prevent its further use and hopefully destroy the creature which had claimed so many of our comrades.

It is here that we at last reached the limits of our sanity and resolve. Mr. Malone fled angrily into the woods, having levelled a torrent of insane accusations at those who remained, only to be overcome by the forces of Titlacahuan moments later. It was at this very extremity of events that our plans were finally undone. The ritual required a human sacrifice, and following the terrible events of the day it is unsurprising that none of those who still clung to their sanity and existence were willing to give up their lives after such a desperate struggle. There followed a terrible hiatus, as Nurse Bagshaw vainly cried out from the darkness for someone to help her perform the necessary rite, but her entreaties fell upon deaf ears. I can only suppose that those few of our companions who remained perished with her, for Mr. St. John-Colthurst and I fled into the darkness in an effort to escape the horror.

We have wandered now for some hours in the freezing darkness of the mountains, but our continued existence reassures me that we did at least achieve some measure of success. The terrible forces of darkness that lurk in the unhallowed, subterranean places of the world have for a time been thwarted but not destroyed. Who can say for how long?

Mr. St. John-Colthurst seems to be sleeping. Perhaps I too can now rest, before we press on in the morning. Perhaps by some miracle we can survive this penetrating cold and escape these trackless mountains, but if not then I can only hope that this treatise will serve as a testament to the resourcefulness and bravery of those who sought to uncover the fate of the men at El Triunfo, but ultimately succumbed to the terrible vengeance of Titlacahuan.

Yours in haste,

Rex Dashwood.

To view Max Goddard’s recently discovered film of the expedition click here.

Click here to see Charlotte's arty take on events. Click here to see John's.