They walked in a ragged file, in three pairs. Each pair had a pole suspended between them, the pole dipping and swaying as the catch that hung from it took the weight of the singing kill, jogged into motion by the carriers’ uneven footfalls.
Except that kill was the wrong word. The catch was still alive…at least some of the catch was still alive, while some of it had died on the journey.
Two children were suspended on each pole. There were three boys and three girls, a pair per pole. They were still alive, but dying rapidly in agony and pain because they hadn’t been tied to the pole.
They had been impaled.
The front carrier of each pair held a pole end that was sharpened to a point and dripping in blood and bodily fluids. The sharpened end had obviously been inserted through the rectum of each child, and passed through the body to come out of the mouth. How they had managed to impale two children on each of the long, swaying poles was something that none of the companions cared to consider at that moment. Possibly, they had been drugged or sedated in some way.
It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that the children had been impaled while alive, their internal organs ripped and bones crushed while they were still alive, and some of them were still alive now, suffering unimaginable pain as they died slowly while being taken to wherever the mutie hunters came from— probably the ville marked on the map as Samtvogel.
Mildred raised her ZKR, sighting at the leading mutie, her teeth clenched to prevent tears rolling down her face, and to prevent herself from crying out in rage and horror. Krysty felt Mildred move, despite being unable to tear her eyes away from the procession beneath. Krysty reached down and stayed Mildred’s hand.
“Not our fight…not now,” she whispered.
The procession passed from view, seemingly unaware of the observers above them. They continued on the road out of the old ville.
As they passed, the companions relaxed their guard, J.B. slipping out to bring Jak back from his guard on the stairwell. The albino eyed them impassively as Mildred told him what they had seen.
“Good Krysty stop you,” he said simply. “Not fight if not need.”
Ryan agreed. “Although I would’ve loved to have chilled those fireblasted fuckers just for the hell of it,” he added.
Doc shook his head sadly. “Much as it saddens me to say it, I fear Jak is correct. You made the right decision, Ryan, my boy. Who knows what perversity the noise of a firelight would have brought out of the woodwork.”
“There’ll be time enough for them later, if we come across them again,” Ryan spit, biting on his disgust. “Now we need to find a way into the underground ville, see if they’re the people who attacked us or if we can ally with them.”
JAK SCOUTED ahead, then returned to tell them that their path into the forest was now clear. Checking weapons, they assembled in the old lobby and moved out. Ryan and Jak took the lead, the albino leading them through the path he had scouted.
Ryan had to admit that Jak had done a fine job. The way through the thick undergrowth and the hidden and treacherous rubble was easier than he had expected, and he was relieved by the way that Doc was able to tackle the terrain. The rest had allowed the old man to recuperate his sometimes surprising reserves of strength, and the old man’s outrage at what he had seen had added vigor to his step.
They proceeded with nothing to impede them for over an hour by Ryan’s wrist chron, making good distance and coming to the area on the map where the first of the underground tunnels was sketched in.
“What exactly are we looking for, lover?” Krysty asked.
“Hard to say,” the one-eyed man replied, studying the map. “It could be an old subway, or mebbe a sewer. Could be something leading from a basement of one of these old buildings,” he added, indicating the ruins around them. They were now entering Seattle proper, and in the distance the remains of the needle could be seen, still precariously defying the elements, jagged and crumbling against the currently still skies.