James Van Mile crouches down in the creek bed, his long knife in his hand. The cold water washes over his boots before rushing under the torso and left arm of the bodily remains. He tries to avoid taking the deep breath he sorely wishes for, tensed as he surveys the torn muscle and skin, the great teeth marks.
"How many more did you say?" Van Mile asks, having satisfied himself to the cause of this killing, having no real wish to hear the answer to his query.
"Five, sir. Last night at least," comes the quick reply of Marshal Wallace.
"Better get these bits and pieces out of here, have them readied for burial," Van Mile continues, sheathing his knife on his belt. His eyes stop briefly as he looks down, feeling the absent glint of official colour, the star missing from his breast.
"It is underway, sir."
"I've to ride ahead and make a report. I'll call on you again this evening, Marshal."
"Sir."
The black Arabian trots at an easy pace along the creek bank, carrying James Van Mile through the wooded halls of Ketjack Forest.
"In sight, a wild beast," clattered the first telegraph.
"Wild and vicious, Dante," added the Operator.
"They were littered with corpses below, one being controlled in truth, has been initiated, was likewise accused of having been hung, he was lapidated and buried in which disgrace the vicious, earth-bound human souls administer aum to light turned them frightening fornication or having every philosophy -- whether by cure . . ."
There was a strong pause on the second machine. Thinking the message disrupted, Marshal Wallace closed his notebook and pocketed his pen, thanking the Operator for his services.
Three numbers beat out.
3 - 6 - 5
"Abraxas," the Operator translated, turning his eyes up to the Marshal.
All around them became perfectly still.
As, at the birth of morn, the eastern clime
Above the horizon, where the sun declines;
So to mine eyes, that upward, as from vale
To mountain sped, at the extreme bound, a part
Excell’d in lustre all the front opposed.
And as the glow burns ruddiest o’er the wave,
That waits the ascending team, which Phaëton
Ill knew to guide, and on each part the light
Diminish’d fades, intensest in the midst;
So burn’d the peaceful oriflame, and slack’d
On every side the living flame decay’d.
Paradise
Walking into the darkness... walking through the darkness...
"We are Suns of Light," Van Mile thinks to himself. His black hat and black vest glow faintly blue, an invisible light that is seen with his animal sense. To carry the light into the dark woods: the Sun shines in the inky midnight.
A crazy rooster crows at midnight; wild eyes search the void. Marshal Wallace is up on the range across the way. Flashes of black powder can be seen and the sound of agonizing howls.
"Come out of these woods..."
Animal instinct is required to root out the disease of animal instinct. There is no glory in the kill, but in the duty to root out the disease in the deep woods...
The kill is a release of energy back to the purity of its creator.
Van Mile went down the straight path to that old cabin in the woods, a rich haze of fog and dimmed ghost-light waiting to greet his arrival. Up to a flat wooden porch, up to the sound of fingers plucking at a six-string banjo, up to the person of the man playing.
"Through the days of toil that's near, if I fall, dear Lord, who cares? Who but thee my burden shares? None but thee, dear Lord. None but thee."
The boar skull above the doorway seemed to glow faintly, bloody red eyes watching. His contact, not looking up from behind dark sunglasses, played on.
"When my feeble life is o'er, time for me will be no more; On that bright eternal shore, I will walk--"
The banjo twanged abruptly and went silent. The blind player turned his head and spit over the side of the porch.
"I need information," Van Mile said plainly.
"Always hot on the trail, blazing past— must burn your feet," the player answered, setting down his banjo and picking up his walking stick.
"Remember, this is penetrative. Wuni, a Wuni mbala. You must make sacrifice to it."
Quietly, Van Mile followed his guide through the dark woods, the atmosphere seeming to grow thicker and blacker as they moved deeper. Before long (or had it been long?) he felt he must be as blind as the man he followed.