The Woods Are Dark

“You mean they’d kill Johnny?” Neala asked.

“I suppose”

“You bitch! What’re you lying for!”

“I’m sorry,” Cordelia whispered. She held up her left hand and plucked a filthy rag away from it. “See what they did?”

Neala glimpsed the stump, and looked away.

“One of them bit it off. As a lesson. To show what they’d do to me if I didn’t get you two to come out.”

Sherri laughed once, harshly. “This sounds like a great outfit. First they fuck us, then they bite off our fingers.”

“And they kill Johnny,” Neala added.

“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” Sherri said.

Cordelia looked up at each of them. “If you don’t come with me, you’ll all be killed.”

“They can’t get to us here,” Johnny told her. “If they could, they wouldn’t have sent you to talk us out.”

“It’s not them. It’s… someone else.” The fear in her eyes chilled Neala. “I saw him last night” she said. Her voice lowered to a hoarse whisper. “He killed Ben. He put Ben’s head on a pole. He put all these heads on poles. They call him the Devil, and they won’t come to get you because this is his cabin, and he’s coming back.”

“When?” johnny asked.

“Maybe tonight.”

“She’s trying to trick us again,” Sherri said.

“No, honest. He’s real and he’s—horrible!”

“We were here last night,” Johnny said. “He didn’t come then.”

“He was out killing. He killed Ben. He would’ve got me, but I hid.”

“If he comes,” said Sherri, “we’ll just hide.”

“You’re crazy. He’ll kill you all.” She pushed herself to her feet. “I’m going back. I’ll tell ’em you aren’t coming out.”

“Don’t go back,” Johnny said. “Stay here. We’ll all get out.”

“Oh no you won’t. I’ve seen… I’ve seen him. I’m going back.”

She stepped unsteadily toward the open door.

“Cordelia, don’t.”

“You’re fools,” she said. She pointed through the doorway. “Your heads’ll be out there, by morning.”

Her sword was propped beside the door. She reached for it.

“Leave that here,” Johnny said.

“Okay,” she said.

Then she grabbed it, whirled around, and attacked.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

She drove the blade toward Robbins’s chest. He was sitting on the floor. It should have been easy.

But in the few steps she took to reach him, Neala dived at her legs, Sherri scurried toward the fireplace, and Robbins dropped backward. She kicked through Neala’s arms, and lunged at Robbins. His leg swung up. It caught the blade. Crying out with pain, he threw himself sideways. The leg of his jeans held the blade. She lost the sword.

Sherri swung the fire poker at her head. She blocked it with her forearm. Neala, sprawled on the floor, grabbed her left leg and bit into her calf. As she tore loose from Neala, Sherri swung again. The poker’s black point whipped past her eyes, just missing. She turned and ran. At the door, the poker slashed. It ripped down her back. She raced for the forest of pikes, Sherri close behind. The poker whushed. Missed. A skull leered at her. She ducked under its crossbar. Falling to her knees, she scrambled forward.

She looked over her shoulder. Sherri had stopped.

Neala appeared in the doorway with the rifle. She aimed and fired. Dirt and twigs exploded from the ground beside Cordie.

She lurched forward, plowing through a dozen crosses before another shot blasted the stillness. She threw herself down.

Something under her belly. She knew, without looking, what it had to be. With a gasp, she rolled off it. Her back hit a pole. She froze.

Nothing fell.

Lying on her side, panting, she could still feel the touch of what she had fallen on. She shut her eyes tightly, and reached down. With the back of her hand, she knocked it away.

Then she lay down flat, again, and waited for the next shot.

It didn’t come.

Finally, she looked back. Sherri and Neala were gone.

She pushed herself to her hands and knees. Ahead, through the tilting bars of many pikes, the Krulls waited. They were silent. All seemed to be watching her.

She remembered Grar’s warning. If you betray us, your death will be horrible beyond nightmares.

They can’t get me here, she thought.

She lowered herself to the ground. She cushioned her face on an arm bruised by the poker, and shut her eyes. The ground felt good beneath her, in spite of the scratchy twigs and weeds.

She would stay here.

Though the breeze was mild, the sun baked her back. Sweat slid down her skin. Sometimes, she felt the tickle of insects. But she didn’t move. It would hurt to move. And it would do no good, because there was no way to escape the heat or bugs.

No way to escape the pain.

Or the Krulls.

No, this is how to escape the Krulls.

This is how.

This…

Then the terrible heat was gone. She opened her eyes, and saw that dusk had fallen.

Many of the Krulls were gone. Many remained.

Maybe when darkness came…

No.

If she left, they would find her.

Do unspeakable things. Your death will be horrible

She lowered her head, and closed her eyes. This is a good place to be. A good place.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

“Johnny, no.”

“Here, give me the rifle.”

“You can’t make it.”

“I can try. You two hold out as long as you can. If I don’t get back with help, go on out to the Krulls and make the best of it.”

Sherri handed the rifle to him.

Using it as a brace, Johnny pushed himself to his feet. He hobbled across the candlelit room. Sweat poured down his back. Neala saw that he was putting no weight on his bandaged leg.

“Johnny…”