The Woods Are Dark

by Laymon Laymon

  No, not sand. Ants.

  “Ben!”

  He brushed harder. His head tumbled off, and dropped onto his lap, and Cordie sat up screaming.

  She was in the hut.

  Lilly sat at her side. “Nightmare?” the girl asked.

  Cordie raised her hand. It was wrapped in a bloody rag. The hand pulsed with pain. “My finger,” she said.

  “Yeah. Well, you’re just lucky that’s all you lost. Grar doesn’t trust you much.”

  “I told him I’d do it. What does he want! Christ, my finger!”

  “We’ve gotta get going. Come on.”

  She crawled behind Lilly, keeping her injured hand off the ground. The sunlight outside hurt her eyes. Squinting, she got to her feet.

  Grar came forward, his skirt of hair floating over his legs. He held a sword. It looked, to Cordie, like a saber from a Civil War movie. He handed it to Lilly, and spoke in the other language.

  Lilly nodded. She turned to Cordie. “Okay. This way.”

  She walked beside Lilly. Through the center of the village. Toward a big fire, at the far end, where arms and legs were hanging. Cordie lowered her eyes.

  “Tell them you want the head.”

  “What?”

  “Kigits head. You promised. We’ll pick it up when we get back.”

  Lilly led her to the fire. Two women were crouched near it cutting a carcass.

  “Sandy.”

  One of them stood. Her arms and torso were bloody. Grinning, she wiped sweat off her forehead. Her hand left a red smear.

  “This is the gal who nailed Kigit.”

  “Hey, congratulations. About time somebody put her away.”

  “She wants the head.”

  “Oh sure. She does, or you do?”

  “Tell her, Cordelia.”

  “I want the head.”

  “It’s yours.”

  “We’ll be by for it later,” Lilly said.

  They left. “She’s a bitch,” Lilly muttered.

  “Is she like us?”

  “A turn? Yeah. You can always tell a turn. We’re the only ones that talk English.”

  “What about Grar?”

  “He’s no turn. You kidding? Grar’s a full-blooded Krull.”

  Cordie walked beside her into the woods.

  “You oughtta hear him rattle off his ancestors. All the way back to him.”

  “Who, Manfred?”

  With a snarl, Lilly flung herself into Cordie and tripped her. She jabbed the saber down. Its tip cut into Cordie’s belly. “Don’t you ever say his name. If you do, I’ll kill you. You get it?”

  Cordie nodded.

  Lilly took the saber away. “Okay. Get up.”

  Cordie stood. She pressed her hand to her belly. “Christ, you cut me.”

  “You’re lucky that’s all I did. That’s the worst thing you can do, say his name.”

  “Nobody told me.”

  “I told you.”

  “You didn’t have to cut me,” she mumbled. She felt frightened and betrayed. “I thought you liked me.”

  “Yeah.” Lilly shrugged, and briefly smiled. “Sure, you’re all right. But you can’t go around saying his name. It’s the worst kind of luck.”

  “You did that ’cause it’s bad luck?”

  “The worst kind. Some say he hears it if you say his name, and comes for you.”

  “That’s bullshit.”

  “Sure it is. You’d better hope so. You’ll get us both killed.”

  “Grar said his name.”

  “That’s okay for Grar. He’s the Mang. Like a witch doctor, you know? He’s got special powers.”

  They reached the stream, and waded in. The cool water swirled around Cordie. It felt so good! She sighed. She drank until her belly felt bloated. Then, keeping her wounded hand high, she dropped below the surface. When she came up for air, Lilly was near the other side.

  For an instant, she considered escape.

  Stupid!

  Even if she got clear of Lilly, she’d still be in the woods. Far from safety. If they caught her… No, she didn’t dare.

  She swam, and followed Lilly ashore.

  They walked for a long time through the heat of the woods. “How much farther is it?” she finally asked.

  Lilly shrugged. “Who knows?”

  “Don’t you know where we’re going?”

  “Sort of. I’ve only been there once, though. It’s a good place to stay away from. You wouldn’t catch me near it, except for Grar. You do what he says, you know?”

  “I found out,” Cordie said.

  “Yeah. Shit, if I’d had any idea I’d get into a mess like this…” She swung the saber at a nearby sapling. Its blade hacked cleanly through the thin trunk. She swung again, and cut down a bush. Suddenly, she grinned.

  A nasty grin that sent a shiver of fear into Cordie.

  “Know what I could do?” Lilly asked. She looked at Cordie with narrow eyes. “I could cut you down. That’d fix everything.”

  “That’s not funny.”

  Lilly swung the saber wildly, chopping it through the air. “I’d say a Thak did it.”

  “Grar! He’d find out.”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Lilly!”

  The girl’s eyes darted. “I don’t see nobody that’s gonna tell on me.”

  “Just go back. If you don’t want to go to his place, just leave. Or stay here. I’ll go the rest of the way by myself.”

  “That’s chicken.”

  “No, it’s—”

  “’Sides, I can’t. If you’re alone, the Krulls’U nail you. It’d get back to Grar, and he’d cook my ass.” She took a step toward Cordie.

  Looking past Lillys shoulder, she gasped. “It’s him!”

  Lilly whirled around.

  Cordie ran. She heard a hiss of anger. Then quick footfalls. Ahead, she saw a clear way through the trees. Like a corridor. She leaped into it, and sprinted. Head down, arms pumping, legs flinging out as far and as fast as she could kick them.

  At the end of the open area, she jumped over a dead trunk. She glanced around. Lilly raced toward her, hair flying, mouth a twisted hole, sword high overhead.

  She dashed sideways. Circled a thicket. Skinned her shoulder as she passed too near a tree.

  Then the trees ended.

  She charged into a clearing.

  And stopped abruptly.

  Twenty or thirty Krulls turned to look at her. Many picked up weapons.

  She spun around. Lilly burst from the trees, saw the group, and lowered her sword. “So,” she said. “Here we are.” She spoke loudly to the Krulls, apparently explaining Cordie’s mission. Then she took Cordie’s arm. “Come on.”

  They stepped forward. The Krulls parted, and Cordie faced the landscape of pikes and heads. She jerked her arm free of Lilly’s grip.

  “Your friends are in the cabin.”

  She shook her head. She felt numb.

  “Here. This is for you.” Lilly held out the saber, hilt first. “Use it on the guy.”

  She raised her arm. Saw her hand close around the hilt. The weight of the sword dragged her arm down like an anchor.

  “Get going,” Lilly said. “The quicker you get it done, the quicker we can get our asses out of here.” She saw fear in Lilly’s eyes. “We don’t want to be around when he comes back.”

  Cordie couldn’t move.

  Lilly pushed her, and she began to walk. The heads seemed to bob and sway in her vision. A bird fluttered down. A black bird. It perched on the nearest head, and pecked a gash in the forehead. The skin parted, but no blood flowed.

  Something familiar…

  That face.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  “No fishies,” Lander said. He sat down next to the body in the sheltering bushes where he’d left it hidden. “None at all. Casey has struck out.”

  He unbuckled her belt, and tried it on. A snug fit. So he used her knife to bore a new hole near its tip. It fit fine, afte
r that.

  He sliced through the thong at her throat, and held up the necklace for a closer look. The ornaments were dark with her dried blood. He counted them.

  “Ha! Lander would’ve been thirteen. A baker’s dozen. Oh, villainy!”

  He jammed the knife into her belly and pulled it out.

  “Curious. If you prick us, do we not bleed?”

  Tossing the necklace aside, he knelt over her. No more than a trickle of blood oozed from the wound. He cut into her again.

  “Oh, this is wondrous strange.”

  He slowly carved his name in the skin of her belly. Then he sliced a frame around it. He peeled the skin off, and held it up.

  “Lander in the flesh!”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  “One’s coming through!” Neala said.

  Robbins hurried through the doorway. He grabbed his rifle. Dropping to one knee, he took aim. He watched the girl stagger among the crosses, bumping into some.

  “She drunk?” Sherri asked.

  “Something’s sure wrong with her,” Neala said.

  Robbins lowered his rifle.

  “Well shoot her, for Christsake!”

  “None of the others are coming,” he said.

  “So what?”

  “She looks crazy,” Neala said.

  Robbins stood up. He stepped into the sunlight.

  “What’re you doing?” Sherri asked.

  “Just a second.” He ran to the corner of the cabin, and checked the Krulls at the side. None were approaching.

  “Johnny, what… ?”

  He ran to the rear, looked beyond the barrier, and returned to the front. “It’s okay,” he said. “She’s the only one.”

  “You aren’t just gonna let her come, are you? Look at that fuckin’ sword.”

  “That’s just what I’m looking at,” Robbins told her. “I want it.”

  The girl tripped, smashing through half a dozen crosses before she sprawled facedown. She raised her head. She got to her hands and knees. Bracing herself on the sword, she stood. She looked back as if to see how far she’d come. Then she faced the cabin. She squinted, and raised an arm to wipe sweat from her forehead.

  The motion lured Robbins’s eyes to her breasts. They were large, for such a slim girl, and shiny with sweat. Robbins felt a warm rush of arousal. He lowered his gaze to her belly, to her dark wedge of pubic hair.

  “Look at that,” Sherri said. “She’s got bathing suit lines.”

  Sherri was right. The girl’s breasts and pubic area were pale.

  “That’s Cordelia!” Neala gasped.

  Robbins studied the face. It was swollen and bruised and marked with cuts, but it did resemble the girl who’d been with them last night.

  “Cordelia?” he called.

  Her head nodded slightly.

  “Holy shit,” Sherri muttered.

  Cordelia staggered forward. She stepped high over fallen pikes, then ducked to pass under the crossbars of those ahead.

  “God, what’ve they done to her?”

  “I think she’s in shock,” Robbins said.

  She stumbled again, and fell to her knees.

  Robbins slung the rifle across his back. He started forward.

  “Johnny, it might be a trick.”

  “Maybe,” he admitted.

  He pushed his way through the crosses until he reached her. She was still on her knees. She stared up at him. Her eyes looked wide and blank.

  He slipped his hands under her armpits, and lifted her to her feet.

  “It’s all right” he said softly.

  She raised the sword high.

  “Johnny!” Neala cried.

  His hand slid up, and gripped her feeble arm.

  “It’s all right,” he said again.

  His other arm circled her back, and he pulled her against him. Pressing her tightly to his body and still clutching her arm, he swung her around and carried her through the fallen crosses.

  In front of the cabin, Neala took the sword from her hand. Robbins carried her inside. He lowered her to the floor. Rolling onto her side, she drew her legs up to her breasts. She held them there. Her mouth sucked on her knee.

  “Cordelia?”

  She didn’t respond.

  Robbins turned to Neala and Sherri. “Maybe we’d better just leave her alone for a while.”

  He went toward the doorway, Neala at his side.

  “I’ll stay with her,” Sherri offered. “She might need—”

  “Fine.”

  They left Sherri beside the girl, and went outside. They found shade at the rear of the cabin. There, they sat together. They held hands, and talked softly.

  Neala lay on her back, and rested her head on Johnny’s lap. He stroked her hair. When she yawned, Robbins told her to sleep. She shook her head. Her eyes were full of sorrow. “We have so little time,” she said.

  “We’ll have years,” he told her.

  Tears came. He brushed them from the corners of her eyes.

  Neala opened her eyes. She was lying on her side, her body against Johnny, her face touching his bare chest. She felt as if she’d been asleep for a long time. A breeze moved over her skin in warm, fluttery waves.

  There had been no breeze, earlier. With a start, she rolled onto her back. The cabin’s shadow stretched a long distance. “Oh God,” she moaned. She turned to Johnny. “It’s so late,” she said.

  “We’ve got a couple more hours.”

  “I don’t want you to go. Not without me.”

  “You’ll be safe here.”

  “I don’t care if I’m safe. I want to go with you.”

  “Well, we’ll see. I just…”

  “Hey guys!” Sherri called through the wall. “You’d better get in here.”

  “Right in,” Johnny said.

  Neala sat up. She didn’t look toward the wall. All afternoon, she had kept her eyes away from it. If Sherri was spying again, she didn’t want to know.

  She and Johnny got dressed. They hurried to the front of the cabin, and entered its open door.

  Cordelia was sitting up.

  “She wants to tell us something,” Sherri explained.

  “Yeah,” she said. “It’s what they sent me in here for. You’re supposed to come out.”

  “Surprise surprise.”

  “They won’t kill you if you come out.”

  “Sure,” said Sherri. “I’ll just bet.”

  “No, it’s true. They’ll take you in. You can join with them. They won’t kill you.”

  “Why not?” Neala asked.

  “They need you… They’ve got too much in—”

  “They want us for making babies?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What about Johnny? He’s hardly capable…”

  “He can come, too.”

  “Stick to the truth,” Johnny warned.

  Sherri turned to him. “You know what she’s talking about?”

  “I know they’ll accept women, sometimes. Young ones. Pretty ones. For recreation. And breeding, I suppose. That may be why they don’t want the Barlow people fooling with them. They don’t take men, though.”

  “Is that true?” Sherri asked Cordelia.

  The girl nodded.

  “You mean they’d kill Johnny?” Neala asked.

  “I suppose”

  “You bitch! What’re you lying for!”

  “I’m sorry,” Cordelia whispered. She held up her left hand and plucked a filthy rag away from it. “See what they did?”

  Neala glimpsed the stump, and looked away.

  “One of them bit it off. As a lesson. To show what they’d do to me if I didn’t get you two to come out.”

  Sherri laughed once, harshly. “This sounds like a great outfit. First they fuck us, then they bite off our fingers.”

  “And they kill Johnny,” Neala added.

  “Thanks, but I’ll pass,” Sherri said.

  Cordelia looked up at each of them. “If you don’t come with me, you’ll all
be killed.”

  “They can’t get to us here,” Johnny told her. “If they could, they wouldn’t have sent you to talk us out.”

  “It’s not them. It’s… someone else.” The fear in her eyes chilled Neala. “I saw him last night” she said. Her voice lowered to a hoarse whisper. “He killed Ben. He put Ben’s head on a pole. He put all these heads on poles. They call him the Devil, and they won’t come to get you because this is his cabin, and he’s coming back.”

  “When?” johnny asked.

  “Maybe tonight.”

  “She’s trying to trick us again,” Sherri said.

  “No, honest. He’s real and he’s—horrible!”

  “We were here last night,” Johnny said. “He didn’t come then.”

  “He was out killing. He killed Ben. He would’ve got me, but I hid.”

  “If he comes,” said Sherri, “we’ll just hide.”

  “You’re crazy. He’ll kill you all.” She pushed herself to her feet. “I’m going back. I’ll tell ’em you aren’t coming out.”

  “Don’t go back,” Johnny said. “Stay here. We’ll all get out.”

  “Oh no you won’t. I’ve seen… I’ve seen him. I’m going back.”

  She stepped unsteadily toward the open door.

  “Cordelia, don’t.”

  “You’re fools,” she said. She pointed through the doorway. “Your heads’ll be out there, by morning.”

  Her sword was propped beside the door. She reached for it.

  “Leave that here,” Johnny said.

  “Okay,” she said.

  Then she grabbed it, whirled around, and attacked.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  She drove the blade toward Robbins’s chest. He was sitting on the floor. It should have been easy.

  But in the few steps she took to reach him, Neala dived at her legs, Sherri scurried toward the fireplace, and Robbins dropped backward. She kicked through Neala’s arms, and lunged at Robbins. His leg swung up. It caught the blade. Crying out with pain, he threw himself sideways. The leg of his jeans held the blade. She lost the sword.

  Sherri swung the fire poker at her head. She blocked it with her forearm. Neala, sprawled on the floor, grabbed her left leg and bit into her calf. As she tore loose from Neala, Sherri swung again. The poker’s black point whipped past her eyes, just missing. She turned and ran. At the door, the poker slashed. It ripped down her back. She raced for the forest of pikes, Sherri close behind. The poker whushed. Missed. A skull leered at her. She ducked under its crossbar. Falling to her knees, she scrambled forward.