The Word of God (33 page)

As they lowered the man Joy let out a little cry of anguish. She looked very upset. Peter was about to move back to take over when his eyes caught something ahead. He motioned them to wait and moved quickly forward along the track.

What he could see was the back of a sign. Beyond it was some sort of clearing. He moved another twenty paces and saw that it was a picnic area with mowed grass and a good gravel road. He signalled the others to keep moving and continued on to the edge of the clearing. From there he could see a car parked in the car park. There were log railings and concrete pathways.

Some sort of civilization,
he concluded, relief flooding through him.

While the others puffed up to join him he scanned the clearing very carefully. There was no sign of movement. This was both a relief and a disappointment. He had been hoping to find people. There was no sign of the Black Monk.

The others joined him and the Sniper was laid on the grass. Gwen looked around. “This is Gillies Lookout,” she said. “The Hang Glider launch ramp is down over there.” She pointed to where a gap in the trees allowed a view of the valley.

“I was hoping the people who own this car might be here so we could get this bloke to hospital,” Peter said, indicating the battered old brown sedan.

“It might be the Sniper's?” Joy suggested.

Peter shook his head. “Don't think so,” Peter replied. “He didn't have any car keys in his pocket. I think he came in the same vehicle as the Black Monk.”

“So where is he?” Joy asked fearfully, her eyes darting in all directions.

Peter shrugged and scanned the surrounding forest for any sign of an enemy in hiding. “No idea,” he replied.

“Maybe it belongs to a hang glider?” Stephen suggested.

Gwen looked doubtful. “No roof rack or trailer,” she answered.

Peter clenched his teeth and took a deep breath. “We will look anyway. Steve, keep watching the rear. Joy, you and Gwen stay here. Keep your eyes peeled for the Black Monk or any of this joker's cronies,” he instructed.

Gulping with fear he walked forward, rifle at the ready. Sir Miles followed, pistol in hand. Peter kept over against the edge of the trees at the top of the slope. His eyes searched the clearing but it appeared peaceful and deserted. As he made his way forward he swallowed and wiped sweaty palms on his trousers. He was very scared and he knew it.

The clearing sloped down to an open area. A chain wire fence and concrete platform marked the edge of the hang glider launch ramp. On the mountainside below that the trees had been felled for a hundred metres. This allowed a magnificent view of the whole Mulgrave Valley. For a minute Peter stood and took in the view. He realized he could see all the way down the valley to Gordonvale and the Pyramid. Off to his right the valley stretched away to the base of Mt Bartle Frere.

He was about to turn away when marks on the concrete launch platform caught his eye.

That looks like blood,
he thought.

Feeling both very exposed and very apprehensive he walked quickly down the steps. As he got closer he felt his stomach lurch and he had to steel himself to go on.

It was blood.

There was a pool of it, then smears, drops and dribbles, leading to the edge of the platform. With an effort of willpower he stepped forward and looked over. His worst fears were immediately confirmed. Five metres below, sprawled among the tree stumps and long grass, was a body.

Sir Miles came down to join him. “What is it?”

“A man. Dead I think,” Peter replied. He pointed down.

“Probably the man I was supposed to meet,” Sir Miles replied grimly. He hurried back off the platform, climbed over the fence and made his way down the slope, to kneel at the body.

Peter stared in grisly fascination, from time to time tearing his gaze away to look at the view. He focused on the distant shape of the Pyramid and his mind was flooded with ghastly images of the rotting corpse there.

Sir Miles looked up. “He is alive!” he called.

Peter hurried down to join him. The man appeared to be about thirty years of age. He was very thin and bearded. He wore a ragged sort of striped cloak or cassock. There was blood all over one side of his head and also on his back.

“He's been shot,” Sir Miles said. “But he isn't dead. They must have shot him and tossed him over the edge without checking.”

Looking at the blood, still seeping out and attracting flies and ants Peter could see why. “Is he your man?”

“I think so. I was told there was a Prophet who would meet me at the Lookout. From his.. er.. eccentric clothing, I suspect this may be the man. Let's get him up to the road.”

The two of them lifted the badly wounded man between them and half carried, half dragged the man up to the fence. It took a real effort to get him over. As they did the man let out a groan and his eyes flickered open briefly. That both cheered and horrified Peter. He climbed over and helped Sir Miles to carry the man up the slope.

They laid him on the grass near the car. As they did Gwen and Joy came running across. “Who is that? Oh! Oh! What's happened to him?” Gwen cried.

Sir Miles looked up at her. “I think he is my next contact,” he replied. “Quick, have you got any bandages?”

“Yes,” Gwen replied. She and Joy knelt to extract First Aid kits. Sir Miles searched the man's ragged clothing but found only a set of keys.

“Is he your man?” Peter asked.

Sir Miles shook his head. “I don't know.”

Joy handed him a bandage. “Who shot him?” Joy asked.

Sir Miles shrugged. “The Black Monk or one of his crew I guess,” he replied.

Gwen used water from her bottle to wash away some of the blood from the man's face. “He hasn't been there long. This blood isn't dry yet,” she observed.

That made Peter glance around the clearing. If the Black Monk shot him, where was he? He voiced his concern.

Sir Miles replied. “If it was him then I fear they are gone. Sir Richard knew the password.”

Joy looked dismayed. “You mean he might have asked this man for where to go next and then shot him?” she asked, horror and disgust clear in her voice.

“I fear so,” Sir Miles replied.

Gwen wiped more blood away to expose a huge weal across the back and side of the man's skull. “But that is awful!” she cried. “That means they will get to the scroll before you.”

Sir Miles nodded. “Yes, and possibly kill several more people. But never mind that. We must get this poor fellow to a doctor and quickly.”

The thought crossed Peter's mind that, if the Black Monk was now ahead of them, and this man died, then the chain was broken and they would never find the scroll in time. It was a bitter thought.

Sir Miles took the keys and stood up. “I will see if these keys fit this car,” he said.

They did. As soon as Sir Miles had the doors open he called to them. “Quickly! Load the two injured men and get in. We must go fast!”

Joy looked at the car and frowned. “Will we all fit?” she asked doubtfully.

“We will fit!” Sir Miles said emphatically. He walked over and hoisted the wounded man up. Gwen had started bandaging the head wound. “Wait! I have to finish this,” she said. “And I haven't looked at the wound in his back yet.”

“Do it in the car. Time is more important,” Sir Miles replied. He lugged the man to the back passenger seat of the car and placed him inside. Gwen climbed in and resumed bandaging.

Sir Miles pointed back to the end of the walking track. “Now the Sniper,” he said.

“Oh leave him,” Gwen said. “They are just murderers!”

Sir Miles shook his head. “I agree, but I am taking him. It is my Christian duty. Please help me.”

He strode over to the Sniper and roughly hauled him back across the lawn. Peter reluctantly helped. Stephen shook his head and sneered, then followed, still warily covering their rear.

Getting everyone in was a problem. Sir Miles was driver. Peter squeezed in the front, holding the Sniper upright on his left. With difficulty he held the rifle between his legs so that it wasn't pointing at anyone. Joy placed his webbing on his lap. Then she and Gwen climbed in the back, holding the wounded man upright.

Up till then Stephen had remained watching the track up the mountain. Suddenly he started running.

“Here they come. Two of them,” he gasped. At the car he whipped off his webbing and flung it on the floor, then squashed in on Gwen's lap. Sir Miles placed the rest of the webbing on Joy's lap and quickly jumped into the driver's seat.

“How far away are they?” he asked.

“About a hundred metres,” Stephen replied. “I saw them coming down the last hill.”

For a moment Peter feared that the car might not start but the engine burst into life as soon as Sir Miles turned the key.

“Where is the nearest hospital?” Sir Miles asked as he put the car into gear.

Gwen answered. “Atherton. But we should stop at the first farm house we come to and phone the ambulance. They can meet us on the way then,” she said.

Sir Miles backed the car out and got it moving. As soon as he had turned it out onto the gravel road he accelerated. In a minute they were around the first bend and out of sight of the clearing. Peter heaved a sigh of relief and stopped craning to look behind.

The road was well graded but narrow. It wound up and down over steep hills in the jungle. Sir Miles drove as fast as he dared. Peter wriggled around until he could extract his map. He studied it hard, trying to work out where they were. He could pick the general area.

Gwen peered at it. “Where does this road go?” she asked.

“It comes out on the Danbulla Road, the one that goes right around Tinaroo Dam,” Peter replied. The previous year he and his friends had hiked the whole Danbulla Road during an expedition for the Duke of Edinburgh Award so he knew it well. But that had been the expedition where they had stumbled into the deadly conflict between the Kosarians and he shuddered at the memory.

A close inspection of the map showed Peter that the road was not marked.
Doesn't matter. I know where it joins the Danbulla Road,
he told himself as he folded the map and shoved it back into his pocket. At least they were moving, and fast, in fact too fast.

As they raced around a bend Sir Miles nearly lost control as the back wheels skidded on loose gravel.

“Sorry, not used to driving on unsealed roads,” he explained. He straightened up and the car roared up a slope.

The speed was so fast that Peter felt a stab of worry.
I hope we don't meet anything coming the other way!
he thought anxiously. He found himself gripping the seat and the Sniper, his palms sweaty and heart pounding.

Joy glanced through the back window. “At least we've escaped from those Devil Worshippers,” she said.

At that moment they were rounding a sharp curve up to the left. As they did Sir Miles suddenly braked violently. Peter had a vision of two vehicles blocking the road near the next bend. Facing away from them was a black 4WD. It was slewed to the right with its nose against the low bank. Just beyond it was a white 4WD with its front facing the other way and down off the road in the edge of the jungle. Two men dressed in black were standing beside the black 4WD talking to someone inside.

Joy gasped. “Oh, there's been an accident!” she cried.

As she said this the men spun round in alarm to face them.

Peter felt his blood run cold. “Devil Worshippers!” he cried in horror.

Chapter 21

IN THE JUNGLE

F
or an awful few seconds Peter stared in horror at the two Devil Worshippers.

By then the car had skidded to a stop on the loose gravel. Sir Miles at once flung the gears into reverse and accelerated. The wheels spun without gripping for an agonizing moment, during which the Devil Worshippers scrambled back to the white 4WD. From behind the black 4WD a figure appeared.

“That is Sir Richard!” Stephen called.

The passenger door of the black 4WD swung open and a black robed figure sprang out. The sight made Peter's blood chill. “The Black Monk!” he cried.

The two Devil Worshippers reached into their vehicle.

Gwen gasped. “They've got guns!” she shrieked. “Drive! Go fast!”

Peter stared in horror as the two Devil Worshippers raised their guns to aim. The range was about fifty metres, Peter estimated.

They can't miss at that range!
he thought. Terror momentarily paralysed him and he clung to the back of the seat.

They didn't. Even as the car began moving backwards Peter saw puffs of smoke from the gun barrels. The windshield suddenly scarred in a dozen places and something made a sharp metallic whack down near his knee. Peter flinched in fear and wondered if he had been hit.

As the car went roaring backwards he realized he hadn't been. His mind registered the numerous small stars on the windshield and tiny holes in the bonnet.
Shotgun,
he thought. He saw the Devil Worshipper cock the gun again and return it to his shoulder, then hesitate and start running towards them.

Sir Miles didn't need the shouted encouragement from the back to drive fast. With his head twisted back over his shoulder to try to see behind he kept accelerating. The car went rocketing backwards around the bend, only to get a wheel in the ditch on the left side of the road. The car came to a shuddering halt. Sir Miles changed gears and tried to get it to go forward. The back wheel spun but the car barely moved. Dust and dirt flew but with no result.

Peter couldn't remember doing anything but he must have as he found himself opening the door and scrambling out. A moment later he was tripping
on his webbing, then crouching behind a tree a few metres along the road with the rifle butt in his shoulder. He looked into the telescopic sight and glimpsed a running figure amidst a black blur.

Wrong eye relief,
he told himself angrily.
Slow down! Calm down!