The Journal of Theodore Wilson Burns, vol 2.

3/18/1928

Out of the blue, I received a call from George Carrington today! I knew that our link was too strong to be ignored. It seems that he needs my help, as strange phenomena not unlike that at those at Carrington’s home have befallen one of his friends. I eagerly told him I would do what I could to help and will meet him in a week at his office in New York. I cannot wait to see what awaits me next in my explorations! Why, he said he would even pay me for my troubles!

3/20/1928

Disappointment mingled with confusion today as I write on the train to the featureless interior of America. My trip to New York failed to bring Cecelia out of hiding (is there someone else?) and Carrington’s “assignment” for me seems frustratingly vague. I do not know what I should do. His college acquaintance has made his fortune through gold mining with New World Industries in the mineral rich regions of South Dakota but his operations have recently come under some mysterious hardships. A terrible disease has stricken some of the miners and a rash of inexplicable suicides have claimed the lives of others, as well as the breakdown of some of the mines’ equipment, demonstrated by the sudden end of our telephone conversation with him. I admit to being quite fearful of this journey as my constitution is naturally quite susceptible to illness and I am mystified as to what these problems of business have to do with my interest in the supernatural. However, I must keep to my word as a man of honor and student of the unknowable. Perhaps more will be explained upon our arrival in the town of Rapid City, South Dakota tomorrow. Accompanying me are that awful cad Graeme Smythe who weaseled his way into the investigation and Volker Sauer Mucke, who hopes to paint new visions of the South Dakotan badlands. I am sure he will find much inspiration.

3/21/1928

I am so tired I can barely summon up enough energy to write this account. However, sleep has been long in coming after the terrible things I have seen today. After arriving at Rapid City, a genial man by the name of Mr. Wallace, geologist by trade picked us up in his automobile to convey us to the site of the mining operations. Along the way he explained more about the current troubles, including the fact that they are digging in an area long believed sacred by the local Indians.
Upon our arrival, however, chaos had overtaken the area and distraught men ran everywhere. Wallace was quickly informed that Carrington’s friend had been the latest victim of the odd string of deaths surrounding the mine and we all were ushered to the mine’s administration office. Never will I forgot the scene of horror there! The man was struck through the head with a mining pick! Though I had never witnessed such a scene before, I believe I handled it like a true detective and impressed even the local sheriff, a man right out of the Western pulps. He blamed the murder upon the Indians, some whom resisted the sale of their lands to the company. Through his deductive skills, (of which I had never suspected) Mr. Smythe was able to determine the man died of self-inflicted wound. How horrific! How could a man do such a thing to himself? Also, there were some strange diagrams that seem to have no know symbolism to me. Finally, we visited the infirmary were this disease was taking a terrible toll on the miners; never have I seen such terrible symptoms and I hope and pray it is not contagious. The local doctor was at his wits end, knowing neither the cause nor the cure for the wasting malady. My only guess is that it has something to do with the mines as most were involved in a tragic accident several months before. Perhaps their guilt for surviving is causing their spirtual malaise to effect their bodies. That is my only conjecture. Tomorrow we explore the mine that was the site of the incident.

3/22/1928

What a terrible day! The weather is cold and windy here in the Black Hills, not at all conductive to my well-being. I slept terribly, wracked by horrid dreams I cannot recall. It must be the pall of sorrow over the mines. The food is vile and the miners are not at all men of whom conversation means much, which is understandable given the situation. And to make matters worse, I sprained my ankle while climbing into that damned, dank mine shaft! It hurts terribly, but not as bad as the headache that has plagued me all day as well. The only thing we found in the mine, site of the accident was another mysterious diagram, almost mathematical in its precision. The sciences have never been my area of expertise, and neither it would seem with Mr. Smyhe or Volker. We can make nothing of it. Time to go to sleep tonight, if I can sleep in this stiff, uncomfortable cot.

I have gone over the mine logs recently, though I am no businessman. Only one thing of note; they are mining a lot of some ore called “pitchblende” but they are not shipping it out. What is it used for, I wonder?

3/23/1928- morning

An even worse dream last night, and my headache has increased to a nearly unbearable pounding behind my temples. The dream was full of menace and I fear something bad is going to happen, dreams are very prophetic. This one was awful, I was in a pit filled with disgusting beetles and large buzzing insects said horrible things to me before I was buried in bugs. Truly unspeakable! I will think no more on it. Today I have suggested that we visit the local Indians, though the sheriff and miners contend that they are hostile and violent to all whites. This is their ancient land, so I feel that they may have important insights to impart upon us if we only but listen. Primitive peoples, have, I feel kept closer to the ancient ideals of the spirit then we scientific civilized men.

Later

Unbelievable! I had no idea of the horrors that lurk under the Black Hills! The Sioux medicine man has explained all but it is up to us to stop this terrible infestation. The miners do not know what they have awoken; terrible evil spirits that science cannot account for!

We trekked out to the reservation where the local Indians live. None of us was skilled riders but horseback was the only way to get to the Sioux village and none of the more experienced outdoorsmen would risk the wrath of the Indians. As we were nearing our destination, a few of the younger men brandished rifles and threatened us. They must have thought us a sorry sight when all three of us tumbled off our horses at the first sign of trouble. I tried to calm them but they were enraged, shouting at us “company men” to get out of their land. Just as things started to look bad, another man appeared on horseback, the Indian sheriff and ordered the ruffians off. He had heard of our activities at the mine and wanted us to meet the local medicine man. I was intrigued, despite my pounding head and wanted to meet this wise man as soon as possible. I was sure he would have great spiritual insights, and I was proven correct in my assumptions.

He asked us to sit in a circle inside of his sweat lodge and told us the story of the evil spirits that dwelt beneath the hills (I shall have to record the full story in another account). The miners awoke them from their sleep and now they were active in the world of men once more. And then something happened that I can barely recall, let alone write. I shall do my best to record it. The medicine man began a chant and a dance unlike any I have seen before. Then, I do not know how to render it in words, my head exploded. It felt like that at least. When I came to, he was stomping on some horrible insect upon the floor of the hut. It was an evil spirit, called Shan that had dwelt inside my very mind, twisting me to its foul bidding. Mr. Smythe and Volker both looked physically ill at the scene. The holy man told us that many at the camp were host to such evil parasites and taught us the song to combat them.

We returned to the camp and set about trying to force any Shan from Mr. Wallace if he was infected by one. In an awkward scene we convinced him to let us show him what we learned, dancing and singing the song we had learned. Unfortunately, we did it incorrectly and had to do it again before Mr. Wallace could get away. The next time it was flawless and, to everyone’s shock a Shan spirit burst out of Wallace’s forehead (without leaving a mark) and the man fainted away. The creature was hideous, glowing a strange blue with many legs and eyes, it flew around at great speeds. Volker and Graeme were horrified and shot at the bug with their pistols, but it was too quick for them. Finally, someone managed to smash it with a broken chair leg. After the sound of gunfire and Mr. Wallace’s state of unconsciousness, many miners were suspicious of us. We tried to explain that there were snakes, but it seemed that many did not believe us. However, they did not question us further and we all retired to bed, which is where I am reading this now. I am exhausted, but almost too frightened to sleep. What if the shan come back and get in my head again.

3/25/1928

I am writing this on the train back east towards home. Graeme and Volker are both feeling quite ill, and I fear they may have been effected by the disease that had stricken many of the miners, and I only hope that they recover. However, I am sure that spiritually they feel much better, as I do, for we have put an end to the terrors of the Black Hills.

The night we drove the shan from Mr. Wallace, we heard some activity in the camp late at night. Investigating we found a group of miners secretly transporting supplies. Following them surreptitiously we discovered that they traveled to a hidden mine entrance about a mile from the camp. There they unloaded a lot of ore- must be that pitchblende. In the morning we explored the place and found that it went deep into the mountainside, a mile or more underground. There we found the home of the shan, a huge glowing pyramid structure. It filled me with terror and I suddenly realized the illness of the other miners; this place had emanations that were not healthy for humans and I insisted we leave that instant. As we were escaping we encountered several of the terrible shan spirits! They attacked us and one struck me with a ray of light in projected, incapacitating me with terrible pain, worse then any I have ever felt! Fortunately Volker and Graeme were able to avail themselves of the heavy shovels we brought with a crushed the evil insects. Escaping from the horrid pit, we collapsed the mine entrance with the ample dynamite left nearby. How convenient! Returning to camp, we spoke to Mr. Wallace who had recovered by that time and he informed us that, after the explosion several miners all collapsed (each part of the secret errand of the previous night) and some claimed they saw some kind of insect nearby. Our measures were enough to force the shan from their hosts, but I fear they are still out there. Thankfully we are on the way home now.

4/10/1928
I have received word from the New York hospital that both Volker and Mr. Smythe have recovered from their inexplicable illnesses, though it seems that both have temporarily lost all of their hair. Radiation poisoning they called it. Very rare, very mysterious!