“What are they doing?” Jacob whispered.
With a focused expression on his face, Murphy didn’t answer. Jacob crawled forward with Tyree toward the high grass and cattails that lined the shore, stopping when they were online with the rest of the team. The more he looked, the more his eyes adjusted to the light and Jacob saw that it wasn’t just a mob; all around the edges, there were more solitary figures. Looking closer, their posture revealed that they were armed and appeared to be standing guard over the Others. The group made noise and backed away to create a long opening for a group of men that ran through the gap carrying bodies to the water line.
The unconscious victims were dropped at the bank of the pond and their heads were submerged. All at once, the men huddled in the dark realized what they were seeing. The shoreline was awash with the bodies; only their legs— or just feet in some cases—were exposed. Occasionally, one would kick and spasm, inducing a random hand from the crowd to reach down and pull the body from the water. The others would hold it upright until it could stand on its own. The newly removed thing would drift away from the pack under the watchful eyes of the sentries, stumbling around drunkenly like a new calf learning to walk.
Jacob watched as the new ones were guided to the outer edges, their stride slowly improving over a short span of time. Then they would move back to the mob and merge with it, becoming lost in the mass. Groups would break off and move away from the mass and out of sight as others returned, carrying more victims. The swarm again opened up to accept them and provided a path to the water line as the cycle continued.
“Fuck me… look at the water,” Tyree muttered.
Jacob lowered his view to the dark surface of the pond only feet away. The moon’s refection barely broke through the smoke to allow the blue steel ball to reflect light back. The closer they looked, the more the opaque liquid seemed to have motion. It swirled and turned over while the surface remained static. Unlike water, the upper layer appeared thick and dense to resemble the look of oil—the same as the blood spilt from the things on the street.
Stephens picked up a loose branch and pushed it forward into the water, scarring its surface. As he dragged the branch across the top, the scratch seemed to remain and then slowly repair itself. When he removed the stick, the liquid pulled off. Like a rod dipped into mercury, the liquid held together, and none remained on the branch. Where the surface had been broken, the water suddenly began to bubble—slowly at first, then turning to a boil.
“We should go,” Jacob said.
Chapter Eighteen
With their eyes focused on the oily surface of the pond, no one was watching the Others on the far side. Tyree let out a high-pitched yelp as he backpedaled away from the bank. Jacob looked up and saw it too; the entire mob had their heads up, and their dark eyes were looking in the team’s direction. The mass hadn’t zeroed in on their position, but it sensed them—somehow the mob knew they were there.
Tyree continued to scramble back until he was on his feet and off at a run. Jacob followed him back up the hill at a sprint away from the pond, desperate to increase separation from the mass. Tyree was out front, breathing hard and oblivious to his surroundings. He ran head on into one of the armed sentries and plowed through it. Both crashed to the ground, Tyree rolling headfirst to the grass and the black-eyed man falling back and landing against a tree. Stephens, who was close behind, maintained his course and ran directly at the thing lying dazed against the base of the tree. Like going for a long-distance field goal, he kicked it hard on the side of the head before falling to the ground himself.
Murphy jogged up and stood over the now unconscious thing, stabbing it once at the base of the neck for good measure. When he pulled out the blade, he paused, looking confused.
“What is it?” Jacob whispered.
“It’s different… harder or something.” Murphy grabbed a handful of the thing’s shirt and rolled the body. As before, he took his knife and opened the man’s arm. Instead of being filled with the black oozing gel, the limb now had thick fibrous flesh that extended bone deep. Murphy removed the blade and pulled at the creature’s neck; the same snake-like skin extended up to wrap behind its ears and the forehead appeared broadened and ridged.
Murphy wiped the blade on the thing’s shirt before returning the knife to its scabbard on his belt. Tyree and Stephens got back on their feet and moved closer. “Whatever is in the pond, it’s changing them,” Murphy whispered.
“Not changing… replacing,” Jacob responded.
Tyree turned the man’s head to look at the neck while asking, “What do you mean ‘replacing’?”
“Like a parasite, or those spiders that lay their eggs in their kills, so they can eat them from the inside out. We’re just a host for whatever that shit is,” Jacob said, pointing at the black goo.
“Then we should stop it—put gas in the pond, set it on fire, or something,” Tyree said.
Murphy shook his head. “Wouldn’t do any good… not now; these things are everywhere. This can’t be the only pond. No… we
