The Woods Are Dark

Delving, exploring, carving, tasting. Such rare delights!

His body, even now, was dark with her blood. He’d bathed in it, rubbing it onto every inch of skin that he could reach, then rolling in her heaped organs to color his back. He’d been careful, drinking at the stream, to wash off as little as possible.

Now, looking down at himself, he saw that he was as dark as the night.

A shadow moving through shadows.

He darted from tree to tree, often pausing to listen for foreign sounds and search the darkness. He seemed to be alone. If others were nearby, they moved in silence through the shadows.

Let them show themselves.

I’ll lay them low.

“Lo, ’tis a gala night,” he said.

Ahead of him, the ground moved. He froze. Not daring to breathe, he watched the matted leaves and twigs bulge from the ground as if a great beast were rising from its grave. Debris cascaded off the growing mound. A massive head appeared. It slowly turned toward Lander.

A yell of terror exploded from him, and he ran. He dashed past the thrashing mound.

As he sprinted through the darkness, he heard heavy, crushing footfalls behind him. He looked back, and gasped.

What is it!

Oh, he shouldn’t have let it up! He should’ve pounced while it was down—hacked it apart!

Now he had no chance.

No chance!

His breath whimpered out as he charged through a thicket that tore at his legs and genitals. He broke free, and looked over his shoulder.

Oh, it towered!

Its wild hair flew.

Beware! Beware! His flashing eyes, his floating hair!

Oh God, don’t let him!

Lander heard voices of alarm. To the left. He lunged sideways, dashed toward them.

Pain seared his shoulder. The vest tore.

Oh God, oh God

Krulls turned to him. Then they looked up, horror on their faces. Lander crashed two of them to the ground and dashed past.

A roar shocked the forest.

“KRULL!”

Lander glanced back. Saw the monstrous shape lift a screaming woman by her hair. Swing her. Rip the head from her body.

He threw himself against a tree trunk. He scurried up its rough bark, grabbed limbs and pulled himself higher. Higher. Hugging a branch, he looked down.

The thing had another Krull. A man. Had him by the legs. Spread the legs. Bit off the genitals. Jerked the legs until they popped from their sockets, and tore them off.

It dropped the carcass. Crouching, it twisted off the head. It picked up the woman’s head, and tucked it under one arm. Then it slowly turned.

Toward Lander?

Cringing, Lander pressed his face to the tree and shut his eyes.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Cordie, lying belly-down among the impaled heads, heard the roar of Manfred Krull. It came from far in the distance.

But she knew he would soon arrive.

Bringing new heads.

And he would find her.

She’d spoken his name to Lilly. The worst kind of luck. Some say he hears it if you say his name, and comes foryou.

Now he’s coming.

She raised her head. Beyond the pikes, the open field looked deserted. The others must have run when they heard him.

My chance!

They’ll all be hiding!

But if they catch me… Better they get me. Better anything than him.

At least she’d stand a chance, out in the woods. Maybe she could find Dad, and they’d escape together.

She glanced back at the cabin.

They might let her in, if she begged.

No. That’s the worst place to be, even worse than here in the heads.

The door couldn’t keep him out.

And they didn’t have the rifle, anymore. The big girl, Sherri, must have taken it. She’d seen Robbins and Neala come back to the door without her. Later, she’d heard a gunshot far away.

Somebody got Sherri.

Good.

The bitch had really hurt her with that poker—would have killed her if she could.

Good riddance.

The bitches deserve whatever they get. If they’d only come along with her, they’d all be safe now.

She looked again at the moonlit clearing. Again, she saw no Krulls. She’d better not go that way, though. The roar had come from that direction.

So she turned to her left, and began to crawl. She moved slowly, careful not to bump the poles. When she reached a pair too close together, she squeezed through on her side, her back rubbing one stick, her breasts brushing the other.

There were so many! They seemed endless.

But she kept moving, kept crawling, kept dragging herself forward.

Until a quiet sound stopped her.

The pop of a breaking stick.

She dropped to her side, and looked back.

Him!

Stabbing a cross into the ground near the place where she’d entered, so long ago.

How long had he been there?

As she watched, he raised a head high and rammed it down. It made a wet sound. Then he stripped the limbs from another stick. He lashed a crosspiece into place, and plunged the cross down. He shoved a head onto its tip.

Then he entered the field of crosses.

He glided through them, turning silently, never bumping a single cross.

Cordie watched, afraid to move.

How could he travel so fast, and not knock the heads off?

He is the Devil!

Suddenly, he turned toward Cordie.

He’d seen her!

She heard a tiny whine in her throat. Warm liquid spurted down her thigh.

Then he turned away.