The renovation of the S.S. Vallejo seems to be going well, albeit a bit sluggishly but I have great hopes to have a large percentage of the work done before your return in six months. I am beginning to prep the large chimney on the roof for painting, but have been informed by Henry that the paint contains a large amount of lead. I am taking precautions to avoid any of the boats current and future inhabitants from suffering any effects of lead poisoning. I have been also taking pains to clean and organize the more cluttered areas of the boat in preparation for the variety of renovation that we have previously discussed. I've attempted to begin to establish some working guidlines as to the storage of personal belongings and general maintenance. I'm encouraged about the project, and have, I believe, begun a healthy and productive relationship with the working crew. Henry the workman is busy framing the skylight windows, James the carpenter is well along in finishing the upper cabin and the laborers Eugene and Alexandro are cleaning the debris and cement from inside the hull.

I'm glad that Eugene and Alexandro seem to have no aversion to the backbreaking and tedious chore of excavating this concrete. Their work is moving along much more rapidly then I could have expected, partially due to the attention this labor has received from Henry. I feel, for some odd reason, that Henry feels this job is of some matter of importance and he seems deeply concerned with its progress. On reflection, I still cannot bring myself to understand why those previous owners saw fit to pour so much concrete so deeply into the hull, therebye rendering the Vallejo immobile and incapable of flotation. Now that so much of the cement has been removed there is an air of anticipation as we wait for the boat to move after, how long has it been? Fifty years? I have wondered if you have any other information as to what compelled those former residents to have the hull so deeply filled with cement.

James has settled in to one of the front bulks for the duration of the work, as it seems the small boat he had called home has sunk. I see no problem in the arrangement. Henry has moved the mobile home he lives in onto the property that extends from the Vallejo's slip. I have moved into your vacant guestroom and and have set up my computer and will soon be able to email you with updates of our progress. I'm writing these now to forward them to you shortly. I hope your trip is proceeding well.

Again, greetings
Nov 25, 2000

I hope you had an enjoyable thanksgiving, if thanksgiving is celebrated in the countries that you are finding yourself in. I wonder if you have an itinerary of your future travels. The other day I overheard a discussion between Henry and James and they seemed to have possessed more information about your trip than I had imagined they would be privy to. They seemed to be discussing anxiously in low voices some arrival of which I do not know and their brief conversation seemed to indicate they hoped this arrival would occur befor your return. When I made my presence known they immediately turned to discussion on some point of carpentry. Are you aware of this new arrival? I did not hear a name but I did overhear James mention a "he". Perhaps a Workman that I haven't been informed of?

Otherwise the work is going very well and I am becoming more optimistic as to the future success of the project. I am surprised at the number of neighbors who seem interested in the progress of the Vallejo's transformation. A number have stopped by to say hello and inquire as to its completion. Each of these visitors seem to bring with them their own fragment of the history of the S.S. Vallejo and I'm astounded by the amount of folklore that seems to surround this vessel. I know, from talks with you and oothers that there have been some questionable lapses in the one hundred and ten year history of this boat. However, with the testimony of these informants, perhaps a more total picture of the history can be constructed.

I, for myself, am glad I took your offer for this working vacation, and am glad to have the chance to spend these last months of the millenium living in such a novel fashion. I'm commending myself for accepting your offer for the chance to live on water for these months and to forgo the perils of solid land. The effect of this environment has manifested it most directly in the area of my dreams, where I have begun to have the most fantastic visions of submarine journeys and aquatic fantasies. The last few mornings I have awoken astounded by the fertility of my own imagination and its surprising ability to create such vivid scenarios. Though I find it hard to remember the exact details of these dreams I can recollect that they seem to involve some sort of underwater journey in which I am involved. In this journey I recall possessing the uncanny ability to swim to great depths in the ocean and it is there, it seems, where the most peculiar imagery manifests itself. I find such an immediate and striking effect of this boat amusing and am anticipating further delightful dreams of this manner.

nov 29,2000
The odd dream reoccured last night. Fantastic in its consistency with the preceding nights dreams. Wonderfully strange.

nov 28, 2000
Hello again. I'm anticipating that in the next day or two I can begin to update you daily as to the progress and circumstances of your boat. I'm having a bit of problems getting on line with the dial up phone lines and today a more technical apt friend of mine will be able to find time to help sort out these difficulties. I'm hoping he can get me online using the DSL line that you have previously installed on this boat. I'll continue to write these reports and when the communication is sorted out I will send en masse.

I know that I should responsibly talk of the progress made on the renovation but I cannot force my thoughts too far from these amazing dreams I have been experiencing. Last night I found myself deep below the ocean surface, swimming amongst teeming schools of unrecognizable fish, some burning with a vermillion brightness that shocked me with its lurid intensity. Others seemed to be glow with a brightness that made the depths at which I swam intensify into an almost inpenetrable blackness. All conveyed to my dreaming consciousness a feeling of utter alieness, of such an unsettling divorce from this world, such that I cannot imagine is known to any physical explorer.

I followed the trail of these darting aquatic comets and shooting submarine stars deeper and deeper into the hallucinatory void and after what seemed many hours of swimming in this boundless limbo of stars began to perceive the subtle glimmer of a vista appearing below and ahead. Encouraged, I, or my sleeping dreamself, swam with renewed vigor towards this oasis of light, which, to my dreaming consciousness, seemed the goal of my journey. I swam urgently for many minutes and began to make out amidst the swirling waters and gloaming miasma what seemed to be varieties of structures, each seeming more fantastic in its utterly outlandish proportions and design.

Before these forms could come into a more sharp focus and implant themselves more firmly in detail and design into my consciousness, and thereby allow more easily retrieval by my waking consciousness, I was awakened by what I may only describe as some intense manifestation of fear, primordial and undeniable, yet without as far as I can surmise, any source. I awoke with my heart pounding and only by viewing out my window the calm surface of the water surrounding the boat on which I floated could I calm myself. Before I succumbed to the eventual return of sleep I remember I looked to the sky, the dark mirror of that dark ocean, and in it's starry firmament imagined I saw some unrecognizable constellation of stars brighten and wink, as if only for my notice.

The next morning I remembered little more then what I have here conveyed, but now feel as if there was somehow some portentous correspondence between my vague dream and the momentary exhibition of those nocturnal members.

Perhaps I should not include such ruminances in these missives but to be honest I am beginning to feel a bit unsettled by the insistency of these visions to usurp the nocturnal hours and of the strength with which these images haunt my waking hours.

I imagine that the most curative path to this would be to focus more on the work at hand.

Henry moves along with the skylighting and I am debating as to being a bit firm to his scheduling. At random times I find him in the hull with the guatamalans, alexandro and eugene, and he seems to overly inspect their work. It is only the removal of concrete and mud, but somehow it seems, in Henrys mind to have a greater significance. When I do find him in the hull he seems lost in a peculiar revery always staring into that thick grey concrete as if within its density his fortune might lay.

James is much more diligent at his work but even he seems to be complicit in some odd fascination with the bulkhead. Often after Henry ascends the ladder from the hull and returns to the upper deck to continue with his work, I will see him stop and exchange some comments with James, and have seen them both lean over the rim of the roof and look down into the large hole on the foredeck through which the hull is accessed with an almost solemn air.

But thanks to James' labours, the left upper cabin now has a level and solid floor and the walls are ready to be replaced with new wood. The smokestack is now ready to be primed and I have contacted the designer you requested to supply me with the proper color of paint with which to put the finishing coats on. I'm hoping to complete that painting in a couple days and then move onto the mainroom and begin to refinish the wooden beams that laterate its ceiling.

Nov 28, 2000
Thankfully my sleep was sound last night. I had worked myself to near exhaustion sanding the base that surrounds the smokestack and my reward was an uninterrupted sleep.

Good news. Yesterday the workers in the hull have finally broken through the concrete and have reached the steel plating that forms the bottom of the boat. The area exposed was only slightly over a foot and there are many more yards of concrete which need to be removed to complete the cleaning but even this smallest broach has seemed to enliven Henry and James and if I did not press upon them to do their carpentry I feel they would spend all their time in the hull and seek to hasten the cleaning out of that obtrusive mass of cement.

I have received the color swatches chosen by your designer friend and he has chosen a number of colors which seem designed to confuse the eye as when they are seen alone there is no notable effect but when seen next to each other or juxtaposed in any manner an odd optical effect can be perceived, as these colors then seem to vibrate and buzz with an energy of almost eternal delight. The designer has also supplied me with a number of patterns that seem to intensify this pecular effect and has suggested that these motifs be used whenever possible on whatever surfaces may need decoration. Henry was very impressed with these choices and their effects and has petitioned me to begin painting immediately even though very few surfaces have yet been prepped for that sort of work. I was surprised at the appearance of this new attitude as Henry has been to this time very given to slow and often overwrought thinking out of a process befor any work is attempted.

Nov 29, 2000
Again the dreams and again I awoke in the middle of the night. Unable to sleep, I got dressed and walked to the front deck. I heard some movement from the access hole of the hull and when I called down I was greeted by the voice of James. He quickly climbed the ladder and told me he had heard some noise from below deck and had went down to investigate. He seemed slightly agitated that I had heard him in the hull and asked if I had heard anything else, and his odd tone of voice made me believe that he did not mean sounds of the boat but of something other, of what I cannot be sure.

There was one other odd event today amidst the otherwise normal trials of construction. An old man appeared at the end of the gangplank. He was perhaps near 80 years old and dressed in such an extraordinarily disheveled manner which so marked him as other then the visitors or tourists who visit the boat on occasions. He stood in the mud gesticulating wildly from below at the boat and seemed almost to be engaged in the act of cursing the structure, his hands moving in such ways as if to mimic some performance only viewed in the most fevered nightmares. When I noticed and shouted to him to come aboard, he would not. When I walked down to inquire about his business there, when I reached him I saw a look of terror in his eyes as he glanced to the top deck. Following his line of sight I saw that he was frightfully focused on the figure of James, who had just then appeared at the rim of the roof to see who the visitor was. The old man all but fell back in some paranoia induced terror, but recovered and quickly turned to shamble back to the driveway entrance. When I followed and stopped him he began to mumble some incoherent banter which I took to believe as remembrances of his time in some penitentiary. The most distinct words, from what I could tell amongst the other nonsensical phrases he spoke were "the prison door". He would not address my questions but headed out towards the Bridgeway drive. I allowed him to leave and went back to my work.

Nov 30, 2000
There were dual emotions of wonderment and bewilderment on the boat today. While cleaning out more of the concrete and carrying out the debris to the dumpster in the front yard, Eugene has made a find that attracted all out attentions and bewilderment. In the broken chunks of cement which have been pulled from the lower levels of that mass, eugene has found an odd shaped object, which in some terminologies I would imagine to be classified as a talisman. It is small and made of an odd porous rock, though the strength of this rock is in no question as it has withstood the picks and shovels that the workers below have used to demolish the concrete. It is no more then 2 inches across and consists of a star shaped, no, a starfish shaped device afixed upon a round lozenge and, to my untrianed eye, seemes to be of great age, possibly prehistoric. It seemed well crafted and there seemed to be the remains of some colorings which have withstood the years of its entombment in cement. I say seemed because, when eugene and I presented it to the rest of the work crew with some excitement, Henry quickly snatched it from eugene's proffering hands and with no more than a quick glimpse, spoke the word "junk"with an almost phobic disgust and flung the object far into the bay!

It was obvious from the exchange that Henry was somehow familar with the object, but how, he did not offer to say. Eugene seemed dejected having losthis prize, but aftre only a moment shrugged and went back down below. I would have liked to keep the memento and add it to the collection of odd detritus that might possibly some day make up a small museum display in the boats salon.

Whatever the meaning of those events I cannot be sure, but Henry's actions seemed too purposeful to be without some meaning.

Nov 31, 2000
Last night my dreams returned, now more vivid then ever. Perhaps that odd stone with its weird attributes triggered the resurgence of these inexplicable dreams, or perhaps now, I should call them for what they have become... nightmares. Last night I awoke in a state of terror beyond any I hvae ever experienced. This dream started as all the others have, with that seemingly endless swim through that abysmal blackness. The jeweled showers of course accompanied me along this passage, but with seemingly greater agitation, as the patterns, however bizzare, to which I had become accustomed, now had changed and the outlandish arrangements in which they now aligned bespoke an alternative geometry to the one in which my waking self functions. These stars formed now, and how I understood this I cannot tell, patterns not of just the three dimensions in which we dwell, but of four, this fourth dimension not being time, as time existed as these patterns emerged. This fourth dimension seemed to show all stars in all times, and this showers of stars became long glittering strands, each with no discernable begining or end. When my attention shifted, somehow these stars also shifted and the arrangement would quickly but imperceptibly, become another arrangement of some wholy other type. The peculiarity of this phenomena baffled me

Perhaps my description of this dream seems to signify an illness to which I will not yet lay claim, but these events seemed real beyond any physiological or psychological malfunction. These visions seemed merely real. I have examined the possibilty of some slight poisoning of my system throught the contact with so much paint dust, possibly containg lead, or any of the other chemical cleaners which I have been using.

This seems unlikely, as Henry, James, alexandro and eugene are in much the same manner of contact as I yet they have mentioned no such symptoms. I have hesitated in relating the dread with which I face sleep to them, as not wanting to disturb the work that I am anxious to see proceed uninterrupted.

For now, though I desire to go no further on this loathsome dreamquest, this time the dream did not end at the view of the expanse of cityscape with which I have become accustomed for this journey to complete. No, this time I swam closer to the city I had viewed only remotely previously and now glimpsed its maddening avenues from a distance that shortened with every stroke I unwillingly swam.

As I found myself swimming a distance above the city I could look down within those massive canyons. The buildings were cyclopean, massive structures whose edges seemed to blur as if the water within this metropolis had a peculiar optical propensity to distort and deceive. I focused sharply on the spire of a taller building as I swam within its vicinity and for the life of me, I swear I saw it move, a gelatinous tentacle grasping in that cold sea. I swam on, now reaching a depth from wehich I could see the pavements of the streets, if streets these could be called, for the bases of the building bordered avenes, yes, but these avenues were not designed for bipedal locomotion of any human scale. These streets were constructed as if they were for sewage to flow through, gigantic gutters indented between the buildings. Any human would find himself incapable of walking through these streets any where but the absolute middle of these passages. As I swam I imagined the streets of New York City so constructed and the congestion of humans walking along these roads single file, unable to climb the steep walls that angled down to that narrow azimuth. I imagined the human inhabitants of such a city as if they were but a bovine herd trapped in a cattle chute, with no direction to go but ever onward, forced by the pressing weight of their fellow travelers, any resistance, futile.

But now I had become aware that these streets all were arranged within a radial design, that all the streets I had viewed from above and the avenue which I now swam above seemed to all converge in some central plaza of this city. The chute through which I swam was cut often by odd intersections, never at the perpendicular but always at some odd angle. These outlandish angles seemed oddly purposeful and I was struck , even from the constrained line of sight from which I swam, on some deep and unsettling aesthetic level by their decadent design.

I swam forward, knowing the center of this metropolis must lay occluded by the dark waters in the shortening distance. It seemed as if there was a slight curving decline to this street, which seemed to pull me further down into its center and this, along with some odd psychological pull I had no comprehension of, seemed to drive my dreamself on, though some small part of my consciousness, some brainstem cluster of archaic nerves, seemd to shriek deep within my psyche in an aboriginal fear of what lay ahead.

At this point I can no longer recall any more of this dream which seemed to have such a profound and shattering effect on my nerves. I awoke in my bed, sweating and shaking, and with the distinct impression that this giant vessel had somehow lurched , as if desperate to break free from the mud in which it has been imprisioned for these last fifty years, and awoken me from my haunted sleep.

DEC 5, 2000
I'm sorry for this lapse in communication, but this past week contains actions that I'm ashamed to admit.

After that night of horrifying dreams, I had written you during the early dawn hours of that same night. It had rained uninterrupted for the previous day and the rain still poured forth from the clouds that seethed above this vessel. In an attempt to calm my tattered nerves I conveyed the details of that abysmal nightmare, more abhorrent for its lack of disclosure as to its deep effect upon my uneasy psyche. As I wrote that last missive I began to imagine again a discernible rumble from within the hull of the ship. The unending pattering of the rain diminished any distinction within sounds, but as I listened more intently, I began to make out a sound. It was a slow creaking, perhaps as if the boat had finally, after being lessened considerably of the weighty concrete in its hull, now sort to dislodge itself and float upon the water, as the tide itself was very high. I had, I must now admit, had not been within the hull for a number of days, and had not checked upon the progress of the labourers, as now even the vicinity of the opening through which it was accessed filled me with a forboding and unease I find difficult to convey. But in that early morning amidst the incessant rain, while the seagulls piped their insane and unending songs, for reasons I cannot understand I felt myself drawn to investigate the source of that disturbance.

I dressed and in the dreary light of the cloud obscured sun climbed the ladder down. The light from the bare bulbs that hung strewn across the ceiling offered little comfort as I made me way back to the central chamber where the guatemalen labourers had now, primarily under Henry's direction, concentrated their work.

I worked my way past the old pistons, which once drove the large ferry wheels that had once propelled this ship. I approached the second chamber which had held the large coal burning furnaces which had given those wheels their power. As I glanced through the small hatch into that room I was immediately stricken with a sense of horror I had previously not believed possible. There amidst the tools and the rubble that had been broken from the floor of that hull, there in the hull of this ship in which I had slept these restless nights, there almost directly below where my bunk was, and there placed near the ever widening hole in the cement, stood some archaic altar, some blaphemously consecrated construction, small but weighty in it's depravity.

Offerings, bloodied pigeons and lewdly carved icons stood about and upon this desecration.

I fell, almost dizzily, from the door, almost as if the ship had somehow lurched again, forcing me into this chamber and as I regained my footing, saw now, where the cement had been completely cleared and this small portion of the steel hull revealed, still half concealed beneath the solid concrete, strange writings, some form of atavistic script, some diagrammic blasphemies traced upon the floor in a geomantic madness. Somehow these lines seemed to be aligned in such a way as to indicate a place further into the hull, as if these abstracted emblems formed but the periphery to a further design.

It was here where I feel the most ashamed of my actions. As I started towards these symbols, and bent to view them closer, and seeing their archaic design and the reddish pigments that composed these antique markings, as I stooped forward towards these symbols to perhaps recognize and retrieve from my memory some sort of similarity with a symbol to which I had some previous acquaintance, as I moved to study these bizzare and cryptic markings I heard a loud creaking, as if steel being bent, and a soft moaning, as if the concrete itself were being strained, and then, god help me if what I saw was my own distressed mind, and god help us all if what I had seen was an actual event, for as I heard these creaks and moans I believe I saw the mass of concrete still constrained to the floor bulge up from beneath.

For one split second I was aghast staring at the slight seeting of the concrete and transfixed by the groaning of the cement and then I fled. I ran to the ladder, sloshing through the remnants of brackish water on the hull floor. I flung myself up and onto the front deack and ran blindly across the gangplank. I remember little of my flight, so deeply unnerved was I. I remember running through the muddy yard to my car and the sucking and pulling this mud made on my feet, as if the ground itself was trying to hold me there. I fought my way though the muck to my car, the amplified dim of the rain and the gulls set bizzare rythyms to my pounding heart. All of nature were but elements of disorientation as I opned the car door and hurled myself within. I fumbled for the keys and looking back through the streaked windshield and the howling gales and the billowing fogs I caught a glimpse of the boat, its formidable bulk rendered momentarily spectral. I spun from the driveway and turned skidding down bridgeway and careened towards the highway and away from that damnedable boat.

When my senses had returned to a form that could be deemed sane I was two hundred miles north. Some false lodestone had guided me towards the north, and I proceeded on, ending up in the small town of Shasta. I spent the night there, with my doors locked and prayers unbidden upon my lips, in a small motel nearest a small church of some esoteric order. With the morning came more rain and I shuddered and hid beneath the covers of the bed in which I sought refuge from the fear that now gnawed at, no, devoured my mind. I watched the doors and windows but never did my feet leave that bed, as I was, and this is of the most tantamount humiliation and shame, deathly afraid to touch the surface of the ground.

Noon came, and the phone beside my bed rang and the voice of the hotel clerk broke me from my mania and I resolved then to conduct myself with whatever remaining shred of dignity and sanity I could muster.

I hastened from the bed and quickly exited to my car. Though I wanted to prove myself capable of standing upon the ground for more than an instance without trembling uncontrollably, I could not.

I drove the three hours back south with a firm resolve to confront whatever had been happening on your boat and as feeling responsible for its safety in your absence put an end to whatever malignance might be at hand.

When I arrived back in the bay area I was still too psychologically weak to return to the boat. I spent the next few days at a friends in Oakland, and after two nights of blissful drunken forgetfulness in a second floor bedroom, prepared to act upon my resolve.

Upon sobering up and allowing my mind to return to whatever semblance of normalcy it was capable of, I called Henry. Something within my memory seemed to inform me that he was aware of the circumstances of my departure, and somewhere deep in my vague recollections of my flight from the Vallejo I imagine I saw him on the deck, laughing in my rear view mirror as I sped away.

But now when I spoke to him, there was nothing but concern in his voice. He expressed how he and James and alexandro and eugene , the guatemalens, were worried to a man about my abrupt and unexpected disappearance. I had prepared an excuse which placed me in Oregon at an old friend's child's unexpected funeral and this alibi seemed to be taken with wholehearted understanding and sympathy. Henry informed me that he had finished the skylights and was now working on installing the new wall of windows in the main room, and had questions as to how he should proceed in regard to the ferry wheel. All seemed quite normal in his voice and the feeling of shame I had previously felt was magnified.

I had no choice but to tell him I would be back on the boat shortly, before midday and he seemed happy to hear that I would be there so quickly. I said farewell to my friends in Oakland, and would have begged mny friend to come, if not for the wife and child he had. As I walked from their door I realized I was perhaps not to return again to that house. For even though I could not discern any malicousness in Henry's voice, I felt sure that he had some part in the events that had been taking place and that some element of my derangement emanated from him.

All were assembled on the front deck as I pulled my car up into the now mudfree yard. As I ascended the gangplank something within me urged me to flee again, to rid myself of any compunction to board that vessel and to return to my home in NYC before return would be impossible. When I stood upon the deck I was greeted by all with sympathy for that cursed child whose destiny I had tarnished. Almost immediately Henry began to surmise the work that had been co,pleted and the plans he had for the next assignments. He showed me the skylights and I was impressed by his level of craftsmanship. I peeked into the upper cabin which James was redesigning and saw that that work, too, was moving along briskly. Then, Henry asked if I would like to see the hull and view the progress the labourers had made. My heart sank to my feet, and the pallor of my skin could not have gone unnoticed but Henry expressed only a clear sense of conviviality and I had no choice but to enter into the game in which I was sure he was a seasoned player.

I followed him off the roof, and as we climbed the ladder to the front deck I felt my bladder now cry out for relief and my heart pound arythmically to the slapping of each rung. Then Henry grabbed the ladder which leads to the hull and swinging himself around, descended. I turned now and gazed at the blue sky and the sun and the other houseboats which surround the Vallejo. I saw the gangplank, not fifteen feet away and within me the spirit of self preservation energetically arose and confronted whatever dark demon of hubris that so compelled me along this path. All but paralyzed by fear,I forced my leg to swing around onto the ladder and almost felt consciousness leave me as my legs carried me down into that hole.

And I followed Henry into that abominable pit, and in my deranged mind realized what his plan would be. Somehow I remembered some discussion I had overheard between Henry and James. Suddenly I saw clearly as to what had been transpiring. As I followed Henry into the secondary chamber, into the abode of what I now knew lay beneath that concrete, I realized as to what unholy labour the guatemalans had been converted. Somewhere in my mind I could hear Henry clearly telling James what was to occur on a night that was soon to come, when the moon was full and blood red.

I will tell you now what I understood at that moment there in that darkness, and I pray to a deity in which I can no longer hold faith that you can understand the reasons for my actions.

In that moment of lucidity all the pieces of this nightmarish puzzle coalesced into a razor like realization.

That concrete which had filled the hull? It was there to imprison the One who waited beneath.

The bloodred designations marked around the hole which I knew I would find when I entered that chamber? Markings inscribed by Allan Watts long ago, markings of a ritual which he had discovered, which was the object of his esoteric searches, a ritual of imprisionment.

I understood that the performing of that rite had drove him to madness, alcoholism and death, and saluted him for the sacrifice he had made in making this world momentarily free of such horror.

I realized that Henry, James and the others were under the thrall of this powerful being and that it had communicated somehow, in some realm of thought beyond ordianry consciousness to these fools, who now sought, in your absence, to hasten their god's release.

As I walked behind Henry I realized that I was being groomed for a sacrifice to feed this beast when it arose on that night which all anticipated. My mind scrambled back again to that moment of overhearing, and the audible fingerprint which now stood out on my brain like a lesion carved by Henry's words.. HIS WORDS!!! " three heads, James.. we must have three heads".
I realized I was being led to that chamber now, and from there I would never leave unless I acted immediately.

Passing the guatemalan's workbench I quickly grabbed a shovel, one of the implements they had used to remove that concrete cork, which for 45 years had held an abominable genie in it's hyperdimensional prison. I held that shovel in both hands and hurried after Henry into the chamber. As I entered he was staring at that final small round patch of concrete, which now stood central in a place festooned with the most horrific esoterica. In that moment, as Henry bowed his head before that last barrier between man and unfettered cosmic chaos, I raised that shovel, sharpened by the hours of use, and cleaved his head from his shoulders, and watched that head bounce, roll across the floor and find its place as if by some unnatural magnetism, upon that final slab of concrete.

At once my mind was flooded with a clarity of such dark brilliance I was struck as if Saul on the road to Tarsus. I understood then that I was being presented with an offer, of such magnitude my puny mind could hold but a drop of its oceanic implications. The force now, that manifested in my mind as a booming voice, offered me a freedom I had never imagined possible. The vision it implanted in my mind was one for which I knew I would perform any task.

I understood the instructions and carrying the shovel upstairs beheaded, in ambush, both James and Carlos, and with the guatmalans who somehow had come under my thrall and who defered to me as if a was some dark magus, carried these other heads onto our altar.

This will be my last mail, as we now have the prescribed ingredients of blood with which to desanctify Cthulu's tunnel to this world. The day comes soon, we know, and eugene and arroldo have already begun the bloodfeast of this new age which is to come soon, by feasting daily on the carcases of those weaklings, who thought to serve but were worthy not.

When great Cthulu rises from his tomb in Ry'leh, where even now his dreams are guiding him to this place, we will serve him and make such an abatoire of this world that such that can remain living indeed will envy the dead.