The Woods Are Dark

She moaned with relief, and watched him move through the last of the heads.

The ground seemed to shake beneath her as he thundered Krull” and kicked open the cabin door.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Lander hugged the high branches long after the creature had gone. He didn’t dare move, for what if it came back!

Oh, it would tear him asunder!

Break his legs like wishbones.

Eat his cock.

Oh, there are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio… More things in hell. Spewing forth demons to walk the night.

He gazed down at the moonlit dead.

Perhaps they were left as bait to lure him down. Cheese for the mouse.

Wee timorous beastie…

Bait for the beastie.

Minnows and worms. The play is the tragedy “Man” and its hero the Conqueror Worm.

Worm me no worms.

Bird food. Fish bait.

As he watched, the headless woman raised an arm and pointed at him. His skin shriveled.

No no no!

I didn’t see that. Impossible. No no no! A trick of light.

He rubbed his eyes, and looked again.

Still pointing at him, she sat up.

“You’re dead,” he whispered.

Oh, I’m dreaming. Dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before. No mortal, she.

She can’t do this!

“Lie down!” he shouted.

Oh God, he’ll hear me. He’ll come, and she’ll point me out. She’ll finger me. He’ll shake me from the tree and eat my cock and break off my legs like wishbones and run away with my head!

“Damn you!” he sputtered.

He scurried down the tree, and rushed to her. She was lying down, playing innocent.

“Villainous whore!”

He punched his knife into her belly. Again and again. As he stabbed, he noticed her breasts. Though the moonlight was dim, he saw their strange, wrinkled folds and lumps.

He looked more closely.

The breasts were covered by pale rags of flesh tied to her body with thongs. He cut the garment free. He raised it into the moonlight, and groaned.

The rags were human faces.

Small faces, peeled from small heads.

The faces of children.

He threw them to the ground, and stared. Then he heard quiet footfalls behind him.

Tricked!

With a shriek of terror, he looked back. The bushes parted, and out stepped a woman.

A big woman.

An Amazon armed with a rifle.

She aimed at him.

“Don’t shoot!”

She hesitated. “What the fuck?” she muttered. “You… Who are you?”

“One whose name was writ in sand.”

“Hey, I know you!” She lowered her rifle. “You’re…”

With a laugh, he flung his knife.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Neala flinched as the door crashed open. She pressed her face tightly against the deerskin beneath her, and wished she could burrow in.

Heavy footfalls shook the ground.

No!

She gritted her teeth, trying not to scream.

“KRULL!”

Her body quaked, shaken by the blast of his roar.

He is the Devil! Cordelia was right!

Oh Christ, we should’ve run!

Any moment, he would fling aside the skins that covered her.

Hail Mary, full of grace; the Lord is with thee; blessed art thou among women…

From his hiding place behind a draping deerskin, Robbins watched the huge dark shape stride toward the far corner.

His sword clacked against the wall.

The creature swung around. It stood motionless. Robbins held his breath. He gazed at the thing, and shuddered.

Its wide, leathery face looked red in the candle-light. One eye was gone, its socket a dark slit as if the lid had been torn away. The remaining eye seemed to glare at Robbins with contempt.

Then it lowered to the stack of skins near Robbins’s feet. Robbins looked. He saw Neala’s hair. Inches of it curled from beneath one of the skins, glossy in the golden light.

The creature lunged. Its massive hand grabbed Neala’s hair and jerked.

The head came free.

It swung slowly as the single eye studied it.

Robbins staggered from behind the deerskin. With both hands, he swung the saber. Its blade struck, lopping off the outstretched arm. The arm dropped to the floor, Neala’s hair still gripped in its hand.

Robbins swung at the creature’s neck. Its remaining arm battered the sword from his grip. It flung Robbins against the wall. He slammed it hard, and fell.

Neala, hidden in the far corner, heard the struggle. Thrusting aside the deerskins, she saw the thing standing over Johnny, its back to her. It reached down for him with its one arm. It grabbed him by the throat.

Silently, Neala raced across the room. She leaped onto the massive back, grabbed a handful of wild hair, and tore its throat open with her knife.

Blood sprayed onto Johnny.

The creature whirled, bellowing, and threw itself backward against a wall. Neala cried out. She lost her knife. She slid off its back.

It reached down for her. It gripped the stubble of her hair and pulled, but lost its hold. So it clutched her shirt front. It lifted her off the floor.