Episode 14 - Boom - January 12, 2025

Cast of Characters

Player	Character	Background
John	Keeper	Bringer of torment and delights
Todd	Lawrence “Skinny Larry” Simons	Inventor, saxophonist, and engineer
Eric	Father Gerald “Gentleman Jerry” O’Shea	Catholic priest, former bare-knuckles boxer
Eli	Dr. Kenneth Filmore	Wealthy medical doctor and neurosurgeon
Cyle	Aaron Winters	Occultist
Scott	Ritter Gunter “Stig” von Stiglitz	Former German POW

Journal

From the journal of Lawrence Simons

Wednesday January 21, 1925 (continued)

Once we found the figurative Achille’s heel of the zombies, we dispatched the other three in short order by aiming for the head. With the last one gone, something of a calm came over the obcene underground cult chapel. But then we heard movement in the pit.

We found a ton of cult stuff behind the curtain - a cult robe, lion claws, the missing book (that Harvard librarian will be so pleased), a weird four-faced mask, another bloody tongue headband, a scepter, a fancy feathered robe, a bowl, a mysteriously warm metal headband, and - strange as it sounds - a scientific grade chronometer. Oh, and a cashbox.

Ignoring all that for a moment, we concentrated on our main target for the evening. We lifted the concrete plug holding in the pit creature, and saw that it was still there, roughly 15 feet down. After closing the plug, we assembled our load of TNT in the metal barrel, and attached a timer style detonator. Then we quickly tossed the barrel into the pit and closed the plug after it. But there was no explosion. Something had gone wrong with the plan, but we tried again, and on this second attempt we got the desired result.

As we got to the end of the alley, climbing into the getaway car, a great explosion took out the windows of the Juju House. We can only hope the blast was strong enough to kill the oily horror in the pit, but we may never know. We sped away, back toward our hotel.

We took all the loot back to our temporary lodging, arriving sometime after midnight. There, we examined them more carefully. The cashbox held personal effects of various people. We think these are wedding rings and the like, belonging to the people who were killed and made into the undead. Some of us were able to gather a few clues about the items, such as the fact that the wood sceptre’s runes were Egyptian. They translated roughly to, “Nyambe the power mind”. Aaron stayed up to read the stolen library book - “Africa’s Dark Sects” by Nigel Blackwell. But I was exhausted and went to bed.

Thursday January 22, 1925

Aaron told us this morning the book includes a ritual for creating the type of zombie we fought yesterday. They are called the Ciimbea. Aaron thinks he understands the ritual well enough to do it himself, but I don’t understand what good that would do. The world needs no more zombies, in my estimation.

After breakfast, visited the law office of Carleton Ramsey. After bringing him up to date, we left the box of personal effects with him, along with the four severed heads from the zombies. We hope that through his connections he can track down the next-of-kin to the men whose lives were lost to make these monsters. Hopefully that will bring the families some comfort. Personally I think it might be best not to pass along the severed mutilated heads, now with point-blank bullet wounds.

I’ve decided this feathered robe might as well get some use, especially in the current cold spell, so I decided to wear it around today. Besides, maybe it will help flush out some hiding cultists for us to bring to justice.

I wanted to return to my lab in Philly, but rather than taking the train, Kenny offered to drive. So we set out on the highway, along with Jerry. I sat in the back seat and used the time to read “Africa’s Dark Sects” for myself, and I think I regret it now. Merely reading the book cast an evil spell over me, dirtying my soul in some way. I urgently jumped out the back seat of the car, ripped off my clothes on the side of the road, and bathed in handfuls of snow. That’s what Kenny and Gentleman Jerry say, any ways. I don’t remember a thing about it, and came to my senses shivering in the car just a few miles from my Philadelphia apartment.

Once we got to my place, we had some hot coffee, I ran a bath, and then I changed into some clean clothes. Then I took the metal headband into the lab. I analyzed it in every way I knew how, but could not find a scientific explanation for its inner warmth. It doesn’t seem to be radioactive, and doesn’t seem to be undergoing any chemical reaction. It is a mystery. I did find that it is made of an atypical amalgam of metals, but that doesn’t explain the faint heat it emits. While I had it on the table, I examined the writing on the headband, but can’t make anything of it. I think it’s cuneiform runes, but I can’t read them, nor can Jerry or Kenny. Truly mysterious.

I left the scientific chronometer in my lab, and the three of us headed to the south part of town for sandwiches. One vendor there sells hot beef sandwiches with melted cheese. It’s quite a delicious combination. I have a hunch these will become popular one day.

Gentleman Jerry’s Conjectures and Musings

Wednesday, January 21st, 1925

As best as I could make out by the shouting, Kenny hit one of the Beasties, Larry and Aaron shot one dead. Stig had used a spear to pin one against the wall, like a butterfly on a bulletin board. Quickly, all four lie upon the stone ground, unmoving. I carefully crept down the narrow stairs - not engineered to accommodate shoulders like mine - and used my fireman’s axe to chop off the four heads, stuffing them into a sack. Grisly, to be sure, but I think the next of kin might gain some closure from knowing these four were truly gone.

Back behind the curtain we found quite a haul of items. A fancy feathered ceremonial robe (amusingly, Skinny Larry put it on). A pair of strap-on Lion’s Claws hanging from a hook. A very attractive Chronometer, set to GMT time. A Leopard-skin blanket that wrapped some of the stuff. Another Bloody Tongue Mask with an actual human tongue. A hideous wicker basket helmet (mask) atop which sat four hideous faces … one carved to be sort of “melty”, one female, all with African features. Stig thinks they look like they are from the Congo. 

I couldn’t even place the Congo on a map.

The loot also contained the missing library book - Africa’s Dark Sects, from the Harvard (Wiedner) Library. A burnished copper bowl. A scepter carved from hardwood and decorated with runes (“Nyambi, They power mine” - a south/west African Deity). A headband made of dull gray metal, etched with runes that someone mumbled were “Kiniform”-like. 

I’m too stupid to know what that even is, but I didn’t let on.

It notably felt warm to the touch. Larry thinks it is radioactive and wants to Geiger-counter it.

What else? Oh yeah, a cash-box containing what seemed to be a pile of personal effects from those that were … uh … animated (and I bet also from the poor devils that were added to the faces of the oily ooze under the stone plug). An engraved pocket watch, a wedding band, and a pair of reading glasses. I bet they were those things called “Fetishes” that kept the walking dead under control. The box also contained a fair amount of coin. Proceeds from the Ju-Ju House item sales?

The book - probably the best part of the booty - was written by Nigel Blackwell, authored in 1920, no production house listed. It was a sort of travel log and expose of a variety of African Cults. It also detailed a ritual for creating the Walking Dead. I think I heard that they’re called “Ciimba” or something. I bet the author is in a padded cell somewhere, blubbering and sobbing. This kinda stuff takes a toll on a man’s sanity. Glad I’ve got the Armor of our Lord and Savior.

I wonder what sort of late fee Miriam Atwright would levy, upon its return to the library.

It took two tries but we blew up the thing under the stone plug that had been hideously shrieking the whole time. May the souls it consumed find peace everlasting, Amen. 

It was an admirable explosion, sundering glass windows and wooden shingles and shaking buildings a block away. My friends are really good at what they do. I’m glad to know them. Back to the second (secret) hotel for some shut-eye. Too late for a Pastrami on Rye, that’ll have to wait until tomorrow. 

Thursday, January 22nd, 1925

We tossed some ideas back and forth regarding the sack ‘o heads, and decided to give them to Carlton Ramsey, Jackson Elias’ attorney and handler of his estate. We popped over at 11 AM. The idea was he’d pass them (and all the loot) to that good Police Captain (Martin Poole), not the one in Harlem (Captain Hobson), and the mix of items might at least provide evidence supporting a stay of execution (Hilton Adams). It is likely something - maybe the brass money clip - belonged to one of the Harlem residents that disappeared after Hilton was incarcerated. Was it one of the four Zombies? I don’t know.

Me and Larry hitched a ride with Kenny to Philly, to visit Larry’s lab. Larry really likes that feathered cloak, struttin’ around town like a … I don’t know … spiritual leader of some ancient sacrificial cult or something. If that shaven-headed African sees us (Mukunga Madari), it might coerce him to attack us.

He wanted some light reading, so like Aaron, he read the Dark Sects book. Then he got a crazy look in his eyes and jumped out of the car on the parkway doing 60! Kenny slowed down when the blast of cold air from the open door hit him. I tried to grab Larry, but he was intent on his demise, so I wrapped my arms around him to form a protective cocoon of sorts and rolled with him, pell-mell down the embankment. If I hadn’t gotten all tangled up in the seatbelt I might have stopped him.

As I had hoped, I took the brunt of the gravel and jagged ice as we tumbled. Poor guy was trying to cleanse himself of the Zombie encounter, rubbing himself with snow. Crazy stuff. I prayed with him all the while, until he regained his senses, shivering. Kenny wrapped him in an Army blanket and we took off before the Jersey Troopers caught wind of our escapades.

I tinkered with the Chronometer (no wind-up mechanism) while Larry determined the composition of the headband was a mix or blend of common metals. It was not Radioactive. So why was it warm?

It occurred to me as I rested on Larry’s couch (both of us had been patched up by Kenny, my Thick Leather Priest’s Frock was pocked with sharp gravel) that we should call that pretty reporter (Rebecca Shosenburg) and make good on our promise to loop her in with regard to any progress on the Hilton Adams affair. I bet Larry has her phone number. She was pretty sure Adams was innocent.