'Is it possible, your Excellency, that she is the second half? The mother?'
'No, we tested for that. However, she does harbor strong feelings for Mr. Stone, which is why the emotional amplification exceeded expectations. We will observe the effects a while longer. When I am satisfied, we shall terminate her and remove the cache gland. This will allow us direct access to her memories since implantation.'
'You are most wise, Excellency.'
'Glory to Voggoth, brother.'
– The convoy followed the turnpike, traveling over the grasslands, forests, and hills to either side of the highway to remain at least somewhat concealed.
As night fell, they arrived at Hickory Run State Park and camped in a field. Dinner meant salty beef jerky or freeze-dried meals. They rested in shifts but the lingering image of Tucker dragged off by a jaw-wolf kept most awake.
Jon Brewer shared a slowly dying fire with Shep and Reverend Johnny; the latter finished a rather long and dramatic tale concerning one of his many battles with The Order.
'After Voggoth's children burned, those National Guard fellows marched toward Boston despite my warnings. That city was in total chaos. I, as you can see, continued my pursuit south.'
'Seems to me you’ve been fighting these things for a while now,' Shepherd said. 'But you’re a medical man?'
'Yes,' Johnny held his hands out and stared at his palms. 'Before Hell descended upon our world these were the hands of a surgeon. Neurology, my specialty. I returned feeling to limbs where feeling was lost. I knew and understood every working of the human body.'
'Forgive me for asking, Doc, but-'
' Reverend. I am no longer a Doctor, Captain Shepherd.'
'I see. Well that’s my question, Reverend. How did you go from being ‘Doc’ to being a holy man? What denomination are you?'
'I am a slave to no denomination. I know all the workings of the body. That is where my faith lay. I see the Lord in the beating of the heart, in the churning of the bowels.'
Jon mumbled, 'Oh, now there’s a pretty thought.'
'Scoff not. The body is the manifestation of the Lord for we are created in His image.'
Shep said, 'And nothing burns you more than seeing these Order fellas slipping implants in the human body. Is that it?'
'You are a wise man, Captain Shepherd. Now I preach the purity of the human body: the holiness of it. The followers of Voggoth defile God’s creation. I shall smite them.'
Brewer pushed, 'So the healer turns into a soldier. I have to admit, Rev, I'm not exactly buying that one. What really made you put down scalpels and pick up a machine gun?'
Shepherd leaned forward and rubbed his hands over the embers.
In an unusually sedate voice, Johnny explained, 'I was the head surgeon at Massachusetts General Hospital. On the day of reckoning, the hospital suffered invasion by all manner of monsters. I escaped the carnage of the city and made my way home. I found that one of The Order’s missionaries had converted my gated community, including my wife and my eight year old daughter.'
Shepherd mumbled, 'Damn.'
'When I… refused…to be one with Voggoth, he sent my wife and my child with knives to kill me. Well…it seems my fear and my desire to live allowed me to…allowed me…'
Johnny could not say the words so Brewer did: 'It wasn’t your fault. They weren’t your family any more. They died when the implants were put in their bodies.'
'Oh, my dear Mr. Brewer, you word it so elegantly. I fear you have not perceived the deeper truth; the truth revealed only after I examined the bodies.'
Shep understood. 'You could have removed the implants. They weren’t too far gone.'
Reverend Johnny stared at his surgeon’s hands and squeezed them into clenched fists. The boom returned to his voice.
'At that moment of ultimate revelation, I went through a metamorphosis, hallelujah. A holy fire burned within and I found my hands were skilled at not only saving life, but destroying it, too. I took that missionary man…that disciple of The Order…and I crucified him on my front lawn. Since that day, I have but one purpose in my existence: to find and destroy every part of The Order. I have pursued and hurt them all the way from New England. I believe-if I may be so vain-they know and fear me.'
The Reverend fixed his eyes on the thinning fire and fell quiet.
Shep patted the man on the shoulder. 'I reckon you’re right, Reverend.'
– Jon's rescue team left Hickory Run State Park before sunrise. They kept the turnpike on their left flank as they traveled south. However, he wanted to avoid the mile-long Lehigh Valley Tunnel that cut through the Blue Mountains at the border of Lehigh and Carbon counties. It seemed too perfect a den for any manner of nightmare.
Therefore, about an hour after dawn, the caravan turned southwest following Long Run road in hopes of crossing the Lehigh Valley River en route to a country road that-according to the map-would lead them up and across the mountain.
A hush fell over the convoy as they traveled with thick woodland to either side; perfect ambush country. To Jon's ears, the clop-clop of horse hooves and the squeaks of rolling wagon wheels sounded like thunderous bass drums revealing their presence to the world.
Yet no ambush came. No creatures shadowed the convoy. The K9s remained calm in the back of his wagon.
That is when they noticed the sound. Shep first guessed it to be an electrical hum from power lines. Stonewall thought it a waterfall in the distance. Reverend Johnny suggested the steady drone of a big machine.
As Long Run road bent south along the banks of the Lehigh River, Jon halted the convoy for a morning rest. He decided the noise-louder now-came from the north.
Brewer shared Shepherd's steed and, along with Stonewall, went off to investigate while leaving Reverend Johnny in charge of the parked convoy.
They followed a set of railroad tracks running alongside the river. As they moved north, the sound grew into a haunting melody. One so melancholy that, according to Stonewall, 'the Devil himself could not stand to live in these parts.'
About one and a half miles north of the parked caravan, as the sound rose to the point of filling the air, the three dismounted and climbed a lightly forested hill.
As they neared the top, the noise sharpened to their ears: a wailing. A constant wailing. Not from one creature but from many: a chorus forming a continual cry of despair.
They reached the summit. Stretched before them lay the picturesque town of Jim Thorpe nestled between mountain peaks and named for one of the greatest athletes in history. Before Armageddon, Jim Thorpe had been a tourist attraction of antique shops, bookstores, pubs, and nostalgic train rides.
Except the shops, the stores, the pubs, and the restored railway station now hid beneath a white, stringy veil stretched over the entire town.
The noise came from the human residents of Jim Thorpe as they struggled- thousands of them — wiggling and swaying inside tightly wrapped cocoons. Their collective agony produced the cry of torment traveling the wind for miles.
'Oh my God,' Jon stammered.
Stonewall confessed, 'I am at a loss.'
The devils responsible for this Hell walked on six-legs attached to crystal-white bodies as long as locomotives with one big yellow eye around a black pupil.
Jon stuttered, 'I–If these things are feeding on them, w-why are the people alive?'
'Look at them, Sir,' Stonewall spoke. 'Those are not arachnids. They are something far more… sinister. One gets the distinct impression that their victims are purposely kept alive.'
'Kept alive?' Shepherd’s voice never sounded so horrified.
