“I hear it,” Krysty said, brushing back an errant tendril of her fiery hair. “Singing. No, more like chanting. Quite close. Other side of river.”
Jak stood, uncoiling with the ease of a serpent. “Yeah.”
Now all of them could make it out.
“Reminds me wondrously of the Gregorian chant of monks at their devotions,” Doc said.
Krysty stood, looking across at the old man. “Yeah. I can hear what you mean. Sort of spiritual and chilling at the same time.”
“Not the kind of church singing that I’m used to,” Mildred said. “Too much head in it and not enough heart. Real cold and scary.”
“We goin’ to take a look?” J.B. asked.
Ryan thought about it. “Could be something to do with that crucified, tortured doll back there. Might be safer to stay where we are and keep quiet.”
“I’d like to take me a look, lover.”
He sighed. “Guess there can’t be any harm if we keep under cover. No noises. Doc?”
“Yes, my dear fellow?”
“That especially means you.”
Doc looked hurt. “I can walk just as silent as a vaporous midnight dream picking its tippy-toed way through an endless beach of soft sand, my dear Ryan. When the occasion merits it, that is, of course.”
“Then do it, Doc. Do it. There’s something about that noise I don’t much like.”
THEY HEARD THE FIRST SCREAM when they’d only moved about a hundred yards through the woods, a single piercing shriek of gut-wrenching, jagged pain, almost instantly muffled.
“Could be you were right, Ryan,” Mildred said, eyes gleaming in the dappled moonlight. “Maybe this falls under the category of not our business.”
“Someone out there getting goose cooked.” Jak’s hair blazed like a magnesium torch in the gloom. His eyes glowed like living rubies.
“Can’t be too far away from here.” Ryan paused and listened. It might have been his imagination, but the singers seemed to have missed a beat when the cry came before resuming their dogged, droning chorus.
“I vote for going on.” Krysty looked around. “How’s anyone else feel?”
The decision was unanimous.
AS THEY MOVED SLOWLY through the forest, the sky was clouding over, veiling the moon. It grew suddenly cooler and the wind began to rise from the north, disturbing the topmost branches of the old pines.
Though the scream had seemed to come from not far away, they had been walking for several minutes without a sign or sound of anything.
Ryan held up his hand, bringing the others huddling around him. “Anyone hear anything? Krysty? Can you feel anything out there in the dark?”
“Nothing, lover. Nothing really positive. Just a sort of a vague sense of the dark forces of chaos.” She pointed ahead of them, to where the narrow hunting trail wound alongside the river. “There. That way.”
The singing had stopped, and there was only the rising breeze, slicing through the woods.
Ryan beckoned them on, picking his way carefully along the overgrown path, knowing that a false step could easily leave one of them with a twisted ankle or worse.
The chanting suddenly resumed, so near in front of them that it made Ryan jump with surprise. He stopped immediately, shading his eye and peering through the blackness, catching a glimpse of glowing fire, less than a hundred yards ahead. As he stared intently at the flickering flames, he could make out several figures moving back and forth against the light.
“Not muties,” Krysty whispered.
“What’s that cracking noise?” Dean asked curiously.
“Sounds like small-gauge blaster shots. Or firecrackers,” J.B. suggested.
“If I might cast my beaver into the ring,” Doc said, clearing his throat, “I am of the opinion that the noise is actually the sound of a lash striking sullen human flesh.” He shrugged. “Though I may be in error.”
Ryan nodded. “Could be right, Doc. Whipping.”
THE WIND VEERED, bringing a fountain of crimson-and-golden sparks from the large fire that stood at the center of a clearing, about twenty paces in width. Ryan felt a thin flurry of rain strike his cheeks as he crouched in the shelter of some thorn bushes.
Smoke was drifting toward them, bitter and acrid, the scent of pine, overlaid with some sort of herbs. Ryan covered his mouth, taken with the desire to cough.