Prophecy (25 page)

Then the distant sound of a car motor broke the stillness. A beam of headlights stabbed through the darkness, and machinery rattled as a small vehicle wove its way through the forest toward them.

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“All right.’” the pilot exclaimed.

“It’s the sheriff,” Hawks said. Then he turned and headed for the tent. “I’ll stay in the tunnels until you’re gone.”

The car squealed to a stop at the edge of the encampment, and four men got out-the sheriff and a deputy, both carrying rifles, Bethel Isely, and Kelso, the lumberjack who had fought with Hawks at the blockade.

“Put your guns away,” Rob said as they approached him.

“What is this, Vern?” Isely asked.

“Leave those guns outside.”

“I asked you what’s going on.”

“Put those guns away.”

Isely glanced at the sheriff and nodded. The sheriff handed his rifle to the deputy.

“Just the two of you,” Rob said to Isely and the sheriff. “The rest can come later.”

Inside the tent, Maggie struggled to her feet, taking a defensive stance beside the table where the infant creature lay. Romona was there, too, and stood firmly beside her. Isely and the sheriff moved forward and recoiled, their faces contorting with revulsion.

The eyes of the infant creature stared up at them from behind transparent lids, and its body began to tremble, as though sensing danger was near. It whimpered, then went silent, its chest pumping in rapid gasps.

Rob came up beside Isely. “It’s the result of methyl-mercury … spilling out of your plant. It’s poisoned everything in this forest. It’s given birth to this creature.”

Isely did not answer.

“Did you know?” Rob asked.

Isely’s eyes turned to Rob. They were filled with anguish.

“Did you know?” Rob repeated.

Isely’s gaze returned to the creature. “I … didn’t want to,” he whispered.

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They stood unmoving at the table, gazing down at the infant that was spotlighted beneath them in the glow of a kerosene lantern hanging overhead. The atmosphere was hazed with smoke from the coals and there was a sense of awe, almost reverence, in the air.

Outside, the Indians also stood in silence, their faces illuminated by the fire, the entire scene dwarfed by an enormous reddish moon that glowed brightly above them. One of the Indians stepped forward and entered the tent; others followed.

They filed quietly by the table; the atmosphere hushed, save for the sound of their shuffling feet as, one by one, they came and gazed down, then moved away. They expressed no disgust or surprise. Their faces were calm and accepting, even tender.

The creature had begun its pitiful squeaking sound again; it was struggling for consciousness. Its sounds came louder, permeating the thin walls of the tent and reaching into the forest.

Outside, from deep within the recesses of darkness, a sound came in response. It was an abrupt squeal. From their position beside the tent, Kelso and the sheriff’s deputy heard it; the Indians heard it, too. The last of the Indians had exited the tent and gathered with the others in a small group near the fire, their eyes turning toward the forest as the sound grew louder. The infant squeaked, the squeal came in response. The tempo was increasing and the sound was coming closer.

Inside the tent, Romona heard it, and the sudden tilt of her head alerted Rob to listen, too. He left the tent, Romona following, the sheriff and Isely close behind them. The infant creature continued to squeak behind them but the squeal that came in response suddenly ceased. All stood immobile, listening to the silence.

Rob’s eyes searched the darkened forest, but he could see nothing beyond the flickering shadows cast by the fire. Then he heard the sound of movement;

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the foliage on the forest floor crunched as something moved in the darkness. It was coming toward them, the slow and deliberate rhythm growing louder with each footfall.

“What is it?” Isely whipsered. Romona raised her hand to silence him.

The squeak of the infant became more desperate, suddenly rising in pitch, and the sound of crunching came faster upon them. It was at the edge of the encampment now, within moments of invading their sanctuary. Rob sucked in his breath and clenched his fists. Suddenly the foliage parted.

It revealed the figure of the old man, M’rai. He stepped into the clearing and gazed around in confusion, stunned to find so many people there.

“Welcome.” He smiled. Rob and Romona sagged with relief.

Then the environment exploded. The trees behind M’rai shattered as they were ripped from the ground; an earsplitting squeal of rage rang through the air. A massive black form hurtled into the clearing, branches splintering and leaves flying as it lashed out at the men and women who ran and screamed beneath it. It was a gargantuan enlargement of the infant, its saucerlike eyes reflecting fire, its underslung jaw dripping saliva as it bellowed and swiped, throwing bodies into the trees like rag dolls. The deputy raised his rifle, but just as he did, was grabbed and hurled upward, his bones snapping as his body flew toward the sky. The air resounded with cries of panic; people ran everywhere, colliding with one another in their desperation to escape. Rob stood in shock, unable to move as the slaughter went on around him; he saw Kelso get slashed in half by the claws, the top half of his body landing in the fire.

A group of Indians attempted to escape in the car, but it toppled sideways as the beast attacked it. Men spilled out, screaming as the car rolled on top of them. Parts of bodies were flying everywhere. The scene turned to bloody chaos.

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Inside the tent, Maggie grabbed up the infant, the I.V. bottle crashing behind her as she screamed and spun, not knowing where to go.

“The tunnel!” Hawks cried as he sprang from the narrow opening in the tent floor. He grabbed Maggie and threw her into it, then ran to the outside. “Mona!” he screamed. But Romona was nowhere in sight. The fire pit had erupted into a shower of sparks; people were wailing and running, some crawling, through pools of blood. “The runnels!” Hawks cried out. “The tunnels! Get to the tents!”

The pilot raced forward, attempting to reach Hawks, but the talons caught him, yanking him upward and hurling him against a tree. The beast bellowed, whirling toward the sheriff, who was rolling on the ground, attempting to fire upward with his revolver. The beast’s massive foot came down on his head, and juice squirted upward. Then the huge form turned on Rob; as its torso swung, Rob saw the pendulous breasts of a female.

“Watch out!” Hawks screamed.

Rob whirled and leaped away, hearing the tent poles crack behind him. “Maggie!” he cried.

“She’s all right!” Hawks yelled. “Get to the tunnels!”

Rob scrambled on all fours as the beast turned its rage on the tent, ripping and tearing it as if it were tissue paper.

“John!” Romona screamed.

“The tunnels!”

She raced toward him, colliding with bodies that got snatched up and disappeared around her, spotting M’rai who stood near the fire pit in a state of shock, watching the massive form of the beast dancing violently around him.

“M’rai!” she screamed.

Hawks grabbed her, pulling her toward one of the tents, but before they could get there, it was ripped from its moorings; they changed directions, heading for the one tent that remained standing. Isely had

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gotten there just ahead of them; he was weeping as Hawks pushed him into the darkened hole, thrusting Romona down behind him. Then Hawks ran to the outside again. There was practically no one left alive. The air resounded with the beast’s howl of rage as it shredded the remains of the tents. The only figure left standing was M’rai, watching like an innocent child; body parts, like broken toys, were strewn upon the ground around him. Rob was out there, too, desperately attempting to drag the pilot, whose face was covered with blood, toward the last remaining tent. But the beast spotted him, bellowing with anger as it turned and lunged downward.

“Watch out!” Hawks screamed.

Rob leaped away and rolled fast. Talons slashed the ground just behind his head as Hawks raced away from him and screamed at the beast in an attempt to distract it. The beast spun, and as Hawks hit the ground, his eyes fell on the carcass of the dead infant creature he iad placed there while tending the fire. He grabbed it and held it up, and as the beast rose to its hindquarters preparing to charge, he flung it at her. It hit her chest and fell to the ground. Suddenly all movement stopped. The gargantuan form went silent, its eyes fixed on the body of its dead infant. As Hawks watched, the huge, hairless head tilted, blood and saliva drooling from its open mouth. A small sound emanated from within, almost like a question. Then it lowered to all fours and nudged the tiny carcass with its nose.

Hawks and Rob eased slowly backward toward the one remaining tent and paused for a moment, watching.

“M’rai!” Hawks hissed.

But M’rai did not respond. He stood just beneath the towering figure, his face turned upward.

“M’rai!”

The beast heard Hawks’s voice and its large, saucerlike eyes slowly turned toward him. But it did not move. It looked at the two men and whimpered. Then,

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without warning, it suddenly charged. Rob and Hawks leaped into the tent and scrambled into the narrow floor opening, hearing the tent poles crack and the canvas rip behind them.

The noises gradually faded as they worked their way down into the subterranean darkness.

There, eight feet beneath the ground, three tunnels converged into a small earthern cubicle. Maggie was there, clutching the limp form of the living infant creature to her chest. Isely was crouched beside her, weeping, his face pressed close to the dirt wall. Rob wrested the creature away from Maggie and pulled her into his arms; Romona and Hawks stared at each other in the darkened silence.

On the ground above them, the beast’s tirade had ended.

It turned away from the shredded tent and lumbered back toward the body of its dead offspring. It walked past M’rai without touching him and stood over the infant, rolling it over with its nose, then licking its chest in firm, upward movements, as though attempting to reinstill the life force within. It stopped and whimpered once more, then lifted the rigid carcass of the infant in its mouth and slowly moved back into the forest.

M’rai watched as it blended into the night shadows and disappeared into the trees. There was a smile on M’rai’s face. His sanity was gone.

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Dawn broke over M’rai’s camp, revealing the grim aftermath in all its bloody detail. The once beautiful oasis looked like a battlefield. The tents were reduced to rubble and bodies were strewn everywhere, arms and legs protruding from the surrounding foliage, the ground torn and blotched with dark stains.

The fire had dwindled to a fine wisp of smoke; M’rai sat before it, chanting.

As the morning call of the loons sounded from the lake, a pile of torn animal hides that had once been a tent stirred, and the survivors emerged, one by one, from their hiding place beneath the ground. Hawks was first, followed by Romona. Then came Rob. He was bruised and caked with dirt, and he held the limp body of the still-living infant creature in his arms. Next came Maggie. Her face was scratched, her eyes dazed. Rob put his arm around her and turned her toward the forest so she would not see the nightmarish scene spread out before them. Isely was the last to emerge; he did not look like the same man. His eyes were hollow, his cheeks were sunken, as if he had suddenly aged.

Hawks and Romona spotted M’rai and slowly approached him. He turned to them and smiled.

“A’haniy’aht Katahdin,” he said.

Romona knelt before him, gazing into his face. Then she reached up and gently pulled his opened jacket closely around him.

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“Katahdin Y’ho’w’atha” the old man whispered.

“What’s he saying?” asked Rob as he came up behind them.

“That Katahdin loves him,” Hawks answered.

Romona turned away, concealing the tears in her eyes.

Rob surveyed the grim spectacle before them. The car was overturned and squashed. Arms and legs could be seen beneath it, but none of them moved. The corpse of the sheriff lay twisted and broken at the base of a tree; the body of the deputy was close beside it. He lay on the ground, face up, his skull flattened at the back from the impact.

Maggie stood shivering; Rob walked her to the fire, easing her down to a boulder at its’ edge.

“I’ll stay with her,” Romona said.

Maggie was holding her woolen shawl loosely in her hand. Rob gently removed it, wrapped the infant creature in it, and set it down near Maggie on the ground. Then he and Hawks walked to the edge of the trees, Isely following.

None of them spoke as they gazed into the misted forest.

“Do you think it’s still here?” Isely asked in a faltering voice.

“It’s nocturnal,” Rob answered.

“Not any more,” Hawks said. “It won’t sleep until it collects its Utter.”

They looked to the infant creature, bundled in Maggie’s shawl, lying motionless on the ground.

“We must destroy it,” Hawks said. “We must burn it.”

“No.”

“Its mother will return.”

“Not until night. It’s nocturnal. It will sleep.”

Hawks bristled. It was plain that the controversy was not over.

“John!” Romona called out with alarm.

They turned and saw her pointing toward the forest. There was movement there, the foliage swaying as

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something came toward them. It was the pilot, badly wounded and barely conscious, crawling on bis belly toward the clearing.

Rob and Hawks ran to him and dragged him forward, propping him into a sitting position at the base of a tree.

His shirt hung about him in shreds, the strips of material meshed into streaks of clotted blood that ran from his chin to his belly. His front teeth were bent inward, and there was a discolored dent where his forehead used to be. He repeatedly mumbled something that they were unable to hear.