Wild Kingdom S2 E4: A Strange Gathering
A pair of headlights cut through the darkness, swathes of mist curling around the beams as they glided into the Kauffman Stadium parking lot. Twelve more appeared shortly after, snaking in from various directions before falling in line behind the first set. The Rolls Royce at the head of the convoy came to a gentle halt at a back entrance to the stadium, whose dual doors immediately swung outward, a man in black holding each one ajar. The driver exited the vehicle to open its rear door, and a cloaked figure emerged without a word, melting into the shadows beyond the mouth of the great hall within. The driver reentered the Rolls and casually drove off, each subsequent vehicle repeating its routine, releasing similarly hooded passengers into the structure.
Seated at a large round table in a suite high above, two men and a woman awaited the others. The arrivals slowly filed in, several sitting down at the table as a few lingered, looking about the room. The floodlights shone brightly outside, the field shrouded in a fog that worked its way down the concourse and through the stadium seats as though they were gravestones.
"Ladies and gentleman," David began. "Please have a seat, and then we can get started," he said, motioning to the empty chairs. The others at the table removed their hoods at random, and all but one of the standing figures fell in around them, taking seats.
"Frank," said Julia. "Please won’t you join us?" The lone holdout pulled his hood down slowly, scanning the familiar faces amongst the group, all eyes fixed on him.
"Come on, Frank," said Willie, beckoning him over.
"We have much to discuss," continued Dayton. Without a word, Frank made his way to the remaining empty chair, which was directly opposite the trio running the meeting, and he took a seat. In front of each person at the table lay a blank notepad and a pen.
"I’m grateful you all could make it this evening," spoke David. "But before we begin, would you be so kind as to indulge me and write down on those pads in front of you why we are gathered here tonight? Not a novel, just a few notes giving us the gist. Dayton will come around to collect them." Most of those seated immediately fetched up the pads before them and began scratching away. The same people who had remained standing for a moment hesitated, looking at each other, before giving way to the exercise and scribbled a few words. The sound of paper tearing repeated throughout the room, as sheets were pulled undone from the pads and handed to Dayton, who strolled around the table. Dayton sat back down and handed the sheets to David. He began to look over each, adjusting his glasses. "Ha-ha, very funny, George," he said dryly, glancing up for a moment, as George smirked. David pulled three sheets from the pile and set them aside.
"Frank," said David, reading one of the sheets Dayton had given him. "Can you tell me what you remember about today? The events leading up to your trip to the stadium?" Frank only looked back, a drop of sweat crawling down his temple. "Can you tell me what you mean by your response here?" said David, waving the sheet of paper in his hand. "You simply wrote ‘something bad.’"
"I don’t really know," Frank said softly. "It all sort of feels like a dream, to be honest with you."
"Tell us a little about what happened when you received the message to come here. How did it make you feel?"
Frank exhaled deeply before continuing. "I was in the garden, tending to the tomatoes, when Teresa came out back and handed me an envelope with a red star printed on it. ‘Another one of your mystery letters,’ she said. ‘Guy came to the door and said it was important you got this,’ she said. Funny thing is I didn’t remember ever receiving a letter like that previously. But at the same time, I sort of did. An eerie sense of déjà vu washed over me in that moment, like it had happened many times before, but I had no memory of a specific occasion where it had. I can’t explain it," he said, shaking his head.
"No, I sort of get it," said Jin. "I got one too."
"Me too," said J.J.
"We all got one," muttered George.
"You’re doing well, Frank," said David, tapping his finger on the table. "Please tell us a little more about these sensations you were having."
"I took the envelope into my study to open it, that sense of déjà vu only intensifying. I read the enclosed message, brief and to the point, about meeting here tonight. A sense of dread that had been slowly wrapping its bony fingers around my heart ever since I saw Teresa standing there in the garden with the envelope, the sunlight spilling over her shoulder, blinding me from her features, like a shadow with it’s arm outstretched, offering me doom – that dread blossomed into something greater, and while I couldn’t account for any of it through logic or memory, the dread at least felt appropriate. Something snapped into place, and I knew that was what I was supposed to be feeling even if I didn’t know why."
"What else was in the message?"
"It told me," Frank began with a nervous laugh. "It told me where to find this cloak and this goofy pin in a briefcase tucked away in the back of my bedroom closet," he said pointing to the head of a cartoon moose secured to his black garb. "I see I’m not the only one," he said, looking around at the others who all donned identical pins, and several of them nodded their heads.
"Does that pin remind you of anything?" David asked.
"Yes," Frank said, rubbing his thumb across its smooth surface. "Something bad."
"But you’re not sure exactly what?"
"No," said Frank, shaking his head. "I’m not. I didn’t want to come tonight. I knew it was something bad, but I also knew I had to go. Deep down I knew."
"I think it’s time for the book," David said, turning to Dayton. Dayton excused himself and exited through a door behind them. He was gone no more than two minutes before returning with a bundle under his arm wrapped in sackcloth. He unwrapped the package to reveal a musty leatherbound book and handed it to David.
"Thank you, Dayton." David held the book up, rotating it briefly for everyone to see, before bringing it back to Frank’s direct field of vision. The faded gothic text on the cover was difficult to decipher. "Do you know what this is, Frank?"
"Something bad," Frank said, his trembling voice just above a whisper.
"This is the Prospectonomicon," David continued. A gasp came from one of the others at the table. "J.J.?" said David, raising an eyebrow in the direction of the voice. "You all right?"
J.J. only stared at the book with his mouth open. He gulped deeply, and looked around at the others. "I just remembered. I just remembered everything," he said, as if out of breath and put his hands to his face. "Dear God, it’s horrible."
"It’s all right, champ," said Willie, who sat beside him. He gave J.J. a brotherly pat on the shoulder. "Hang in there. We’re all going to get through this thing together." J.J. nodded back at him, holding back tears.
Momentarily distracted by J.J., Frank looked back to the book, The Prospectonomicon, his brow now layered with a sheen of perspiration. "This book," said David, returning his attention to Frank, as he tapped the cover with his index finger. "This book is very special. Now as most of you know, and some of you are still remembering, there is an incredibly dark and powerful force lurking within these very grounds. An intricate series of catacombs stretches out beneath Kauffman Stadium, how deep we know not and probably never will. To our knowledge only two people have ever ventured into that accursed network of tunnels. The first was The Mad Hungarian. He played for the Royals in the late 70’s, and he always felt something calling. Calling his name. Calling him to a particular spot in the earth just outside the stadium below I-70. Questioning his sanity, but no longer able to resist the call, he set out digging in that exact spot upon nightfall after the last game of the ’79 season. The soil gave way to a small empty chamber, which led to yet another, and that itself led to two others. It was soon after that he began to grasp the massive extent of his discovery, as chamber upon chamber led to multiple more. He claims the call steered him straight however, as he wandered through the passageways replete with decay towards the mouth of unspeakable horrors, as if in a trance."
"Holy Mary, Mother of," interrupted Jin, his voice cracking, before his words faded into the night air with a sigh. His heart racing, Frank noticed everyone else at the table minus David and Jin had their eyes closed. A moment later it was only David who remained alert to the surroundings.
"They are preparing themselves, Frank," said David. "Getting into the proper mindset for tonight’s meeting. They are imagining themselves making the Mad Hungarian’s legendary journey toward the dark unknown."
"Good Lord, David," Frank said weakly in a monotone. "I still don’t know what this is, and I feel like it’s eating at my soul. But I know I have to hear it." He paused, his eyes losing focus. "There’s a black rainbow somewhere in the distance, isn’t there? Beyond the stars. Streaked with pain and atrocity, funneling into the abyss."
David looked at Frank intently, continuing with the tale. "At some point the battery in his flashlight died, but he continued on, with only the call as his guide, absorbing dark secrets beyond comprehension. Nobody really knows how long he wandered in that place, least of all The Mad Hungarian himself. Time becomes obsolete when in the clutches of madness. All he knew was that when he resurfaced to the foremost chamber, the hole he dug had been filled in. He clawed through the earth with his bare hands to reach the surface once again. The rays of sunshine that poured in through the hole as his grimy fingers broke through the soil felt like a blow to the face.
"Upon his emergence, the grass had the texture of a strange cheap fabric, the cars whirring past on the interstate seemed as curious primitive toys. He thought the birds chirping in a nearby tree were only flies buzzing before an adjustment of his faculties told him otherwise. He hurried to the clubhouse and found a stash of notepads and pens in Whitey’s office desk, shut the door, and immediately started writing down the things that had come to him in the catacombs. The thoughts. The visions. The knowledge. He knew time was of the essence, for he already felt his mental grasp on the subject slipping ever so slightly. Once all was complete, he returned home in a daze. It was there that, to the best of his ability, he typed up his notes, which are both an account of the events he experienced, including that which I have just narrated to you, and a record of the eldritch wisdom he obtained. He did some rearranging to make things more sensible to the reader, and bound them in this leather cover I hold in my hand, all the while doubting whether any of it had actually taken place.
"Frank, this book is a prospectus of the true nature of the universe, of that which is beyond the false veneer covering our world which keeps us blinded from the dark truths. This book is a guide to-"
"The Process,™" Frank muttered, cutting David off. Grief consumed his every feature.
"That’s right," David said with a touch of sympathy. "The Process.™"
"The Process,™" repeated everyone in unison.
"Now, Frank," said David, tapping the cover of the book once again. "Do you remember what is written in here of The Three Prospects?"
Frank gruffly cleared his throat. "The Prospectinomicon tells of the coming of The Three Prospects, one of which will turn out to be The Key. They are The Bi-Sport Star, The Moose, and the Golden Mist."
"Do you remember this?" David asked, and from a pocket sewn into the inside back cover of the book, he produced an envelope identical to the one Frank had received at home, a large red star stamped across the front. He removed a piece of tri-fold paper from the envelope and handed it to Dayton, who brought it over to Frank. Dayton unfolded the sheet of paper and placed it on the table in front of Frank.
"Yes. Yes, of course," said Frank. The signatures of everyone present, including his own, were inked upon the page beneath several lines of calligraphy, which he did not need to read.
"That is your sworn solemn oath to protect the human race from The Process™ and whatever darkness it may try to impress upon the universe. We maintain that this is a voluntary duty, and all involved must have their hearts in it if they are to remain. It is easy to let this knowledge dissolve if we let it. The conscious mind doesn’t want to know the truth; it wants to push it away in the interest of preserving sanity. Of course you are always welcome to return to your domestic life and let all of this wash away again like a bad dream, never to recur."
"How many times have we done this now?" Frank asked with a nervous laugh. "A dozen? Hell, I’ve lost count."
"Something like that," said Julia with a smile. "But it really doesn’t matter. We’ll do whatever we have to do to keep this fight alive."
"Well, thank you all for being patient with me."
"Frank, I know this has taken a great toll on you," said David. "Which is why you stepped away from your duties with the club six years ago, so I ask you as a friend to please, answer this question honestly, and without reservation. Do you still wish to live up to the responsibility required of that signature?"
Frank tilted his head back and looked up at the ceiling, wiping away the tears pooling around his eyes. He took a deep breath and lowered his head to meet David’s gaze. "Yes," he said with a confidence lacking from his voice all evening and handed the oath back to Dayton. "Yes, I am in. This is too damn important."
"Glad to have you back, Frank," said Willie. Frank nodded back with a sniffle.
"And what about everybody else? Does everyone here wish to continue the work we are doing? J.J.?"
"Yes."
"Jin?"
"Count me in."
Several other heads nodded. "Glad to hear it," said David. "Now that we have all brought our minds deep enough into the grim realm of The Process™ to fully grasp the issue at hand, we can begin. It is the matter of The Moose for which I have summoned you. There is no other way to put it than that disaster is drawing nigh."