A Nameless City (H.P. Lovecraft Tribute)

The City- I

The armed contingent made its way across the Arabian desert of Rub-al-Khali, the empty quarter. Trundling across the land, a number of trucks, two Bradley APC's, and a massive M-1 Abrams battle tank, all trundling along at thirty miles per hour, roughly forty five miles per hour. Operation commander, Colonel John Maherty, an American, sat atop the tank with binoculars. He watched as his coalition of Saudi, Canadian, British, American, and German troops trundled over the desert. The supply trucks followed behind the soldiers. Forty men in all, heading towards an old ruin that was believed to hold Al-Qaeda leaders and rebels.

The city reared up before them, silent, threatening. Its spires rose out of the sand, as the vehicles stopped moving a short distance from the city. Infrared imaging from the three tanks showed no signs of activity, although it was hard to tell with the hot sun beating down on the sand. The Bradley light tanks led the way, gun turrets swiveling. The Abrams stayed back, massive gun trained on the city.

Older, but not obsolete, technology, the Abrams was the still the master of armored warfare, but was soon to be replaced by combat drones and massive armored suits that soldiers wore. The only reason they were sent out was the fact that the city seemed like the perfect place for a group of desperate terrorists to hide. Thermal imaging showed cold air blowing out from some of the buildings, and believed it was due to the Al-Qaeda soldiers trying to cool off in the desert.

"Alright, looks like its clear out here sir. The other unit commanders agree that the best course of action is to set up a perimeter in this square, and deploy search teams. Orders? Over."

"This is Maherty, you have the go ahead. Keep them in a tight perimeter, don't let them get too spread out. Over."

"Understood sir. Over and out."

Captain Johanson, the Canadian in charge of the troops when Maherty was not around, put his hands on his hips, his rifle slung over his shoulder. He looked over, and saw all the Saudi Muslims gathered in a circle, praying. He checked his watch. He waited for them to finish their prayer.

"Lieutenant Bahija, it's not time for your daily prayer. What was that all about?"

"This place is cursed. Many writers spoke of it, and we have forever been told legends of it. It is ancient, before man, and we should not be here." His eyes flicked around nervously, although they always did that.

"I understand, but there is no such thing. We're gonna find some terrorists, and then we'll go home. How does the Shisha bar sound, eh?" Johanson was not a superstitious man, far from it, but something about the city did give him chills.

Its architecture was unlike anything he'd ever seen, with engineering feats far more advanced than any ancient civilization had ever come up with. They were at the foot of a cliff of sandstone, into which there were houses and other structures hewn into the rock. He squinted at them, and then at the other buildings, and realized that the proportions were not normal.  He could see that the houses were small, the doorways looking only fit for children.

"Colonel, there are some caves here, and I think it would be good if I took a team and left Bahija in charge. Do I have the go-ahead?" He wet his lips. It was his first actual combat expedition, and everybody was armed to the teeth. He knew that they were well trained and equipped, but there was cold fear settling into the pit of his stomach.

"Send in two men into each, and then go ahead with a squad. Keep searching the other buildings though, and be careful."

"Sir, yes sir. Over and out." He clicked off his radio, and went to gather up pairs of soldiers to go into the caves.

An hour later, the men returned, having found nothing. One pair said they found a temple-like structure. They also said that there was a long passage going down. There were many more hours of daylight, so Johanson took some men and went to investigate.

Upon entering, their flashlights illuminated odd shrines and acloves, and a thin passage at the end of the chamber. They had to crawl, because of the low ceiling and the weight of their body armor. While Johanson didn't suspect any people to ever hide in such a dismal and creepy place, he knew that they had to search inside the thin tunnel at the end of the chamber.

"Let's go." He said, motioning for the rest of his four men to follow him.