The Word of God (32 page)

Sir Miles had whipped out his pistol. “What the hell? What was that all about?” he whispered.

Peter shook his head in puzzlement. “Don't know. It is the Sniper I think.”

As he said this the Sniper stood up and walked quickly away from them, vanishing from view.

The group remained crouched under cover waiting. Peter checked his pistol and scanned the scrub. With every minute anxiety increased. He said: “We can't stay here. If we do the Devil Worshippers behind will catch us up.”

Stephen shook his head. “Talk about being between the Devil and the deep blue sea!” he muttered. He looked very pale and also had his pistol ready.

Sir Miles agreed. “We must get on. If that was the Sniper then the Black Monk is already in front of us and my contact is in great danger.”

Peter studied the ground and then said: “OK, Sir Miles, you stay here with the girls. Steve and I will scout out to the right and come up to the rock out of that dead ground.” He pointed to the re-entrant there. Stephen nodded. Sir Miles accepted his leadership and checked his own pistol.

The next five minutes were very unpleasant. Peter led the way through the waist high grass and ferns. Later he could not decide which was worse- the fear of
snakes; or the sheer numbing terror of anticipating being shot. The two friends went along the side of the hill until they could just see Sir Miles, then turned left and went up the slope side by side.

The last few metres were the worst. Peter tried to move without making any noise but the long grass rustled and there were dead sticks underfoot as well. He found he was sweating and licking his lips. Sweat trickled into his eyes and he had trouble holding the gun as his palm became slippery with perspiration.

There was no-one there. Peter looked cautiously in all directions and then stepped up onto the large rock. Almost at once he saw the mangled remains of a large Death Adder, its head squashed. He drew Stephen's attention and pointed down.

“I think he was bitten by this snake.”

Chapter 20

HARD DECISIONS

T
he others were signalled up to join then. Both Joy and Gwen gasped in horror when they saw the dead snake.

Peter nudged the mangled reptile with a stick. “I reckon the Sniper was bitten by it,” he said.

“Bloody good!” Stephen added. “Serve the bastard right. The biter bit!”

Sir Miles made a wry face. “Certainly appropriate,” he commented.

“Why?” Joy asked.

Gwen answered. “Joy! Didn't you go to Sunday School? The snake is the Devil's own symbol. Remember the Garden of Eden?”

Stephen chuckled. “Bit before her time,” he interjected.

Sir Miles bent to peer at the snake and visibly shuddered. “Is the snake poisonous?” he asked.

“Very,” Peter assured him. “This species are called Death Adders.”

Gwen looked anxiously around. “So what do we do?” she asked.

Peter shrugged. “We can sneak off into the jungle and abandon Sir Miles' friend to his fate or we can take the risk and keep going,” he said.

Gwen bit her lip. “What do you think we should do?” she asked.

Peter felt sick with fear but knew in his heart he did not really have a choice.

Not if I'm going to live with my conscience in the future,
he told himself.

He met her eyes. “Keep going and keep our eyes open,” he replied. “I doubt if the Sniper's attention will be focused on us now, but the Black Monk and his cronies must now be somewhere in front of us.”

“Couldn't we just hide in the forest?” Stephen suggested.

Peter nodded. “Yes we could, but the person waiting for Sir Miles is in danger. I think we should help them,” he replied. Burning in him now was a strong desire to help Sir Miles on his quest.

Sir Miles said: “You must do what you think best but I must go on with my quest; and if that means confronting Friar Boris then I will.”

Peter ended the debate by starting to walk. Joy followed at once, as did Gwen and Sir Miles. Stephen shrugged and resumed his role as ‘Tail end Charlie'.

“Who is this Friar Boris?” Gwen asked Sir Miles as they puffed up another grassy slope.

“I have never met him but I have heard of him. He is from Vacul, which is in Transylvania, and is one of the leading Devil Worshippers in the world. I think his boss is Barfout.”

“Not Count Dracula?” Peter asked, his fear fuelling flippancy.

Sir Miles smiled. “No.”

“Transylvania?” Joy queried. “Isn't that where the vampires come from?”

“Allegedly,” Sir Miles replied. “And only in the movies. It is actually a province of Romania.”

The trail crested a low, timbered knoll. A hundred metres ahead loomed a wall of rain forest. Peter sighed with relief. They were on top of the range. The trail led down along a gentle spur to the jungle. As he walked along it Peter felt scared and very vulnerable. If the Sniper, or another Devil Worshipper, was waiting in ambush, then this was the place to do it.

Rather than just walk straight along the track on the open ridge he detoured off into the long grass and then into the trees lining a shallow gully. The others followed without comment and they puffed up this until they reached the jungle. Just inside the jungle the trail widened to become a road. This joined a second road at a T-junction. Both roads were obviously old timber snig tracks. The second road appeared to run along the crest of the range and there were signs of recent vehicle use in the mud and leaf mould.

“Which way? Ooh!” Joy squeaked, as a flutter of movement just in the jungle startled them.

It was only a scrub turkey. Peter felt his heart pound. He swallowed, then looked at her in surprise. As they had both been there before he was a little disappointed. He pointed left. “That way.”

Both Gwen and Stephen nodded agreement. Peter started walking along the road. This went down a slope through jungle, then levelled out before coming out into open forest again at an upslope. They puffed up this, the sweat again coming in rivers. The road then dipped down again for a hundred paces, then curved left and went up another low rise.

As they neared the top of this hill Peter abruptly halted and signalled them to cover. Twenty metres ahead, just on top he could hear noises. He cautiously crept forward and peered around the side of a large gum tree.

It was the Sniper. His camouflage ‘Yowie Suit' of netting and scrim was thrown back off his face and he was leaning against a tree and retching. Beside
him on the track lay his rifle. The man straightened up and went to pick up his rifle. As he did he staggered. He was muttering and whimpering and a low moan escaped his lips. His skin looked very pale. Peter stared aghast.

He has been bitten alright, and he is terrified of dying,
he deduced.

The man walked on quickly along the road out of sight. Peter moved up to watch, signalling the others to join him. They watched the Sniper go down into another dip, where the road vanished into a patch of rain forest.

Gwen shook her head. “He shouldn't be walking,” she said. “That is the worst thing he could be doing. It pumps the poison more quickly around his body.”

Peter bit his lip, appalled at the situation. “What else can he do? He is on his own. He must get back to his car,” he replied. As soon as the man was out of sight he hurried on down the slope, pistol at the ready.

At the bottom he saw the man again, still walking unsteadily along the road. After fifty metres the road went out into open forest again and up another steep slope for a hundred metres. From the edge of the jungle Peter watched the man toil up the slope. As he reached the top the man stopped to spew again and he appeared to stagger as he resumed walking. It was horrifying to watch, to know that death was working in the man's bloodstream.

They followed the man up the hill. On top Peter again signalled halt. The man was standing unsteadily in the middle of the track, chest heaving. He staggered, moaned, placed his rifle against a tree, then sat down abruptly. He lay back and groaned aloud.

Peter motioned the others to wait and walked quietly forward. He was able to get to the tree near the man without being heard. For a moment he stood there, heart pounding. He wiped sweat from his eyes and peeked around the tree. The man was lying on his back, breathing heavily. In one swift motion Peter reached forward and seized the rifle.

As soon as he had the rifle Peter signalled Stephen and the others forward. As they joined him the Sniper saw them. His eyes rolled and widened and he gasped. “Snake bite! Help me! Help me!”

Joy pursed her lips. “You were going to shoot us!” she snapped.

“Help me!” the Sniper croaked. His eyes rolled and then closed. He lay back, gasping and muttering.

Peter looked at the rifle, noted it was cocked and that the safety catch was off.

Slack bugger!
he thought.

He put it on safe and handed it to Joy. “Go to the bend in the track just ahead and act as sentry in case more of them come along. Steve, you watch the rear.”

“What are you going to do with this mongrel?” Stephen asked.

“Fix him up. We must get him to a doctor,” Peter replied.

“Let the bastard die!” Stephen snapped. “He was going to kill us.”

Peter shook his head. “No. We must try to save him,” he insisted.

Gwen supported him. “I don't care what he was trying to do to us. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I just left him here to die.”

Stephen curled his lip. “I could!” he replied.

“That's your problem!” Gwen snapped. Already she was kneeling, searching for the bite.

Stephen bent to watch. “How are you going to get him to a doctor?” he persisted.

“Make a stretcher and carry him, exactly the way we have been taught to do it in cadets,” Gwen replied.

“Carry him!” Stephen cried. “We have to keep moving or those mongrels behind us will catch up!”

“Well you can keep going if you want,” Gwen replied, “But I am staying to help.”

Sir Miles weighed in. “I must help also: it is one of my oaths. I am bound to do so.”

Stephen looked amazed. “Even for one of your mortal enemies?” he cried incredulously.

“Yes. Remember what Christ said: ‘Forgive your enemies.' Now, what should we do?” Sir Miles asked Gwen, who had now taken charge.

Stephen shook his head in disgust and walked back to where he could see back along the track. Peter knelt and helped remove the man's Yowie suit, then went through his pockets.

As he did the man opened his eyes again. Already they appeared unfocused and he was sweating. His skin was cold to touch and his pulse rapid but weak. The man suddenly gripped Peter's arm and a look of desperation came into his face. “Help me! Oh God help me!” he croaked.

“God help me!” Stephen jibed. “What a turncoat. If he was a true Devil Worshipper he would welcome Satan!”

“Just keep watch!” Peter snapped. He felt sick with dread.

Gwen pointed to the man's cheek. Two inflamed red puncture wounds were clearly visible. “It bit him on the face.”

“Is that bad?” Sir Miles asked.

Gwen swallowed and nodded. “Couldn't really be worse. It means we cannot
put on a restrictive bandage to prevent the poison reaching his heart,” she explained.

Stephen snorted. “You could put it around the bastard's throat and make it tight,” he suggested.

By this time Peter was feeling terrible. Apprehension gripped him and he was in no mood for an argument. “Leave it be Steve!” he snarled. He felt so upset he thought he was going to throw up.

Sir Miles studied the Sniper's face. “Will the poison take long to work?” he asked.

Gwen shrugged. “Depends on how big the snake was and how much venom it injected,” she replied. “There are two different types of venom. One causes the blood to clot so the victim dies of heart attack. The other attacks the nervous system and causes the heart muscles and breathing to stop.”

“Which type are we dealing with?” Sir Miles asked. He pushed up the man's eyelid as he did. The eye showed white, having rolled up into the head.

Gwen shook her head. Tears of frustration were brimming in her eyes and she was shaking. “Don't know!”

“How long might he live?”

“A few hours at most I'd say,” Gwen replied. She bit her lip and looked at Peter helplessly. “There's nothing we can do except get him to a doctor.”

Peter nodded. Gwen looked around. “We need to make a stretcher.”

“No good,” Peter replied. “We haven't anything to cut saplings down with; and being green wood it would just bend. We will have to carry him in a chair lift.” By then he had extracted a wallet, codebook, radio, money and a spare rifle magazine from the man's pockets.

“Let's get moving then,” Gwen said. She stood up and called Stephen back. He was reluctant to help but pocketed his pistol and bent to seize the man's left arm. Peter handed his pistol to Gwen and took the other arm. The boys linked arms in a chair lift under the Sniper's bottom. Sir Miles took the man's upper body and lifted the unconscious form upright, then held him in position while the boys stood up.

The man was heavier than they had expected and it took a real effort. Almost at once Peter felt a sinking feeling of despair.

This is going to be bloody hard,
he told himself.

He gritted his teeth and began walking. Stephen muttered aloud but kept pace.

They made their way down the next slope, collecting Joy on the way. She went
ahead as a very nervous scout. The track led along the edge of the escarpment, going up and down over small hills. On their left was open bush on a long downslope. On the right was thick tropical rainforest.

After five minutes they had to stop. Sir Miles and Gwen took over carrying, with Joy holding the man upright. He was shaking and shivering by this, adding to Peter's sense of dread. Stephen dropped back to the rear and Peter took the rifle and went on ahead. Progress was very slow, a shuffling walk. After fifty paces they had to stop again.