neither good nor bad, but Satan captures them in his web, forcing them to do his evil work, converting them to his evil purpose.'
Father Andrews shook his head. 'You're wrong,' he said. 'You don't know what you're talking about. The lake of fire is not hell, and the book of life is not life. Any seminary student could tell you--'
'Go not by the interpretations of the past,' Brother Elias said. 'For they are incorrect.'
'You have no idea what--'
'The Lord,' Brother Elias said calmly, 'has spoken to me in a divine vision. He has shown me what must be done.' He looked from Gordon to Andrews to the sheriff. 'And you are to help me.'
'Why do you need us at all?' Andrews asked. 'You obviously know what needs to be done and how to do it, why don't you just do it on your own?'
'The adversary is crafty. He is a liar and the father of lies, and he can call forth his minions to aid him. He will do everything in his power to stop me from doing my duty.'
Jim sat down heavily in the chair next to Brother Elias. He thought for a moment, then sighed. 'I don't know what to believe,' he admitted. He looked at the preacher. 'I believe you know what's going on here, but I'm not sure you're telling us the truth. Or all of the truth. I need more proof. I need proof before I can act on any of this. I can't just take your word for it all.'
Brother Elias fingered the gold cross of his tie clip. His black eyes were bright and alive. 'By tomorrow, you will have your proof,' he said. 'If you wait any longer than that, it will be too late.'
Tim McDowell, armed only with a flashlight and a kid'swalkie talkie, walked for the thirteenth time that day across the water-cut path that dissected the ravine at the north end of Aspen Lake. A low drizzle had started several hours ago, burgeoning into a full fledged storm, and most of the searchers had since gone home for the day. A few others were waiting out the monsoon in their cars, parked along the dirt road next to the lake, staring out their windshields at the flashes of alternately red and blue lightning, perplexed. Only he and Mac Buxton and Ralph Daniels were still trudging around and actively looking. He knew that the odds were against finding anything, particularly in this ravine, which had been covered more than any area save the campground itself, but he was determined not to give up the search until he found out about Matt. One way or the other.
Several of the other searchers had tried to hint gently that it was possible the boys were dead, and he knew, intellectually, that they were probably right, but emotionally he felt otherwise. He had a feeling, a gut feeling, that Matt was alive, only lost or hurt.
'Matt!' he called. 'Matt!'
No answer.
His voice was getting hoarse, and his arms and legs were aching, but he didn't care. He pulled a wad of chaw from hisSkoal can and put it between his cheek and gum. The tobacco tasted good. He spit, wiping the excess off his beard. He took off his CAT hat and squeezed some of the water out of it before putting it back on.
The walkie-talkie crackled, and he held it up immediately next to his ear, but it was only another false alarm. He put thewalkie talkie down and looked back toward the lake. Through the natural green of the ponderosas he could see the red and blue metal of pickup cabs. Ron Harrison and Joe Fisk were in one of those trucks. Drunk, probably. He spit in disgust. How could they sit there when their kids were still missing? What kind of fathers were they?
'Shitty,' he answered himself. He looked around, walking forward, trying to spot a shirt, a shoe, something. 'Matt!' he called.
The walkie-talkie crackled. He held it up to his ear.
'Tim. I've found something.'
His heart stopped. His lips were dry in spite of the rain. He held down the 'talk' button with his finger and took a big gulp of air. 'Is it ... Matt?'
'You .. . have to come here.' Ralph's voice sounded strange.
'What's wrong?' He was scared. 'What is it?'
'You have to come here. You too, Mac.'
'Where are you?' Mac's voice sounded faint, far away.
'I'm behind the hill on the west side, probably straight across from the campsite.'
Tim was already running. His feet sank in the mud and he tripped over an occasional rock or branch, but he was moving too fast for it to slow down his momentum. He found a deer trail leading up the side of the ravine, and he sprinted up the path. Branches whipped against his face. He was breathing heavily, both because of the exertion and the panic, but he forced himself to keep moving, despite the pain in his chest.
He topped the hill and saw, down below, the red flash of Ralph's jacket through the trees. From somewhere off to the side of him, Mac was yelling loudly for the rest of the search party to follow him. Tim listened, as he ran, for the telltale sound of slamming truck doors, but he heard nothing. The other searchers, sitting in their vehicles, probably with the windows up, could not hear Mac over the rain. The walkie-talkie crackled, and Mac's harried voice came through clearly. 'I'm going to get everyone else. Hold on, we'll be right there.'
Tim slipped in the mud and slid down the last twenty or thirty feet of the hill. He scrambled to his feet and ran over to where Ralph stood looking into the darkly clouded sky and breathing deeply. 'What is it?' he demanded, grabbing Ralph's shoulder. 'What did you find?'
Ralph looked at him, the rain dripping down his face looking almost like tears. He said nothing but pointed off to the right. Tim's gaze followed his finger, but he could see nothing at first. There was only a dead half-rotted log, a copse of small saplings, some ferns, and ...
Tim walked slowly forward, his heart thuddingpropulsively in his chest, feeling as though it would pound a hole through both his ribcage and his skin. On some of the light green ferns he could see trails of watery pink. He moved closer. Now there was a definite form lying in the midst of the ferns. A form wearing a T-shirt and jeans.
Matt? 'Ohmygodohmygodohmygod...' He realized he was babbling, but he did nothing to stop himself. He didn't care. This close, he could see that the pink trails on the ferns had been formed by splattered blood watered down with rain. Darker blood had seeped into the mulch like ground cover and other, lower, sheltered plants were speckled with various hues of red. He bent next to the body, falling to one knee, praying, pleading wildly in his mind, Don't let it be Matt, please don't let it be Matt, as he tentatively touched the form.
The T-shirt gave under the pressure of his prodding finger and collapsed inwardly. There was nothing there. There was no back to the figure. He pushed his finger forward again and felt squishiness.
Squishiness and bone. The dirty whiteness of the T shirt began to disappear under a creeping soaking red.
The hair was blond, he noticed suddenly. Matt had black hair.
He dared not turn the body over, so he shifted his position, moving in front of it.
He closed his eyes immediately.
The figure's face had been eaten away. Ragged clumps of bitten, gnawed flesh hung in tattered patterns from an almost visible skull. An eye lolled limply on a torn optic nerve. Red-stained teeth grinned in a dead idiot's smile.
He stood up, opening his eyes only when he was once again on his feet.
He stared into the sky, trying to blot the horrible image from his mind, trying to cleanse his senses of the sight. Even in the rain, he could smell the thick, heavy, disgusting odor of blood. Taking a deep breath, he looked down again, checking out the rest of the body. Hands and feet were all gone. Although the backs of the jeans and T-shirt had been untouched, the fronts were ripped to shreds. All that was left of the body was a bare outline, a hollow shell.
He stepped back over the body and stopped before Ralph. He swallowed audibly. 'Where are the rest of them?' he asked.
Ralph looked at him, his face pale. 'I don't know. I didn't want to look.'
There was the sound of voices and cracking twigs and branches as Mac led the rest of the searchers over the hill. Tim looked up, watching the others make their descent. Half of him wanted to search immediately for Matt's body, but the other half wanted to wait until other men could help him search, afraid of what he might find. He was sure Matt was dead after seeing that other body, but he dreaded the confirmation and wanted to put it off as long as possible.
