Untitled (19 page)

       "I'm sure this used to be a hoof of some kind." Peter pointed with a gloved finger. "I can't be sure though."

       "A snake couldn't swallow a horse," Bentley said without thinking first.

       "I know that," snapped Peter.

       "What else could have done this?" Green asked.

       "I haven't got a clue." Peter frowned. "But it makes me nervous."

       "Why?"

       "What if it's still in the area?" No one attempted to answer the question.

       The occupants of the tent had fallen silent and Peter went back to studying the animal carcass. He started working faster, digger deeper into the centre of the coagulated husk. More bone shards were added to the pile next to his feet and he had to start leaning over to reach the bottom. The group had taken a couple of tentative steps forward and were watching his progress intently.

       "Huh?" Peter stopped and stared into the hole he had created.

       "What is it?" Harkman queried.

       Everyone tried to lean in closer to get a better look at the thing Peter had uncovered. It was obscured by glistening gore and a flap of yellowed tissue was covering the left hand side of the discovery. It clearly wasn't of bovine origins.

       "It's a face," Bentley stated the obvious, pushing Peter out of the way. "Look, that's a nose." He reached out with his left hand.

"Don't touch it!" yelled Harkman.

       The warning came too late. The visible eye on the face snapped open and glared up at them with a socket filled with blackened blood. Before Bentley could retreat the head shot upwards, a mouthful of vicious teeth sinking into his outstretched fingers. It began to chew frenziedly, swallowing greedily as it gnawed its way up Bentley's hand.

       The young man screamed through a throat full of vomit, trying his best to pull away from the living nightmare feeding on his flesh and bones.

        "Fuck." Green jumped backwards, pushing at Peter in his panic to escape the carnage.

       Peter fell onto his rump and watched in horror as the head appeared to sprout arms and began to climb out from the animal remains. As it clambered free it made no attempt to stop feeding, devouring the lower half of Bentley's arm in half a dozen mouthfuls. It showed no sign of stopping there.

       With its arms now free it quickly pulled itself upwards, its muscular frame sliding into the world in a sickening parody of childbirth. Its jaw chomped its way further up the arm. Bentley had stopped screaming and unconsciousness had saved him from the agony of being eaten alive.

       The only person in the tent to move was Green, and he was searching through equipment for something – anything – to use as a weapon. He settled on a trowel. It wasn't much, but it was all he had. He spun around and attacked the creature. He plunged the tool into the beasts back, immediately pulling it free with a spray of blackened blood.

       Green pulled his arm back to strike for a second time. The creature lashed out with a clenched fist, the blow hitting Green just below the ribcage. The force of the impact lifted Green off his feet and sent him sailing through the air. The creature didn't break from feeding, continuing to chew its way upwards and only pausing when its lips reached Bentley's shoulder. It wrapped its heavy arms around its young prey and began to squeeze. The sound of breaking bones filled the tent.

       Peter finally broke away from the spell of absolute fear that had held him in its grasp, pushing himself up from the floor as the creature's jaw began to dislocate in a bid to finish its human meal. Peter snatched up the trowel as he stood and ran at the beast with a yell of terror and anger. He thrust out with the makeshift blade, forcing it into the base of the creature's skull with a bone splintering crack. The beast went instantly rigid, it's spine arching backwards as a groan of what might have been agony exited it's already full mouth. Peter rammed the trowel deeper, feeling the tip of the short blade scraping against the inside of the cranium.

       Green stood up shakily, his vision blurry and his lungs painfully fighting to draw breath. He bent double and held his knees as he fought off a wave of nausea, waiting for the world to come back into focus.

The first thing he saw was a blood covered Peter and the twitching creature at the end of Peter's arm. The second thing his mind registered was enough to send his blood cold.

       "Oh fuck." He counted four distorted silhouettes moving around the outside of the tent.

       Peter released his grip on the trowel handle and the creature fell forwards, onto the already dead Bentley.

       Outside the screaming began.

"Harrison, get back here now," ordered Burke.

       Harrison wasn't listening. He'd grabbed Megan's hand and was leaving the temporary headquarters before the first scream had faded in his ears.

       Megan allowed herself to be dragged along, swivelling her head from left to right in a search for Peter. She couldn't see him, but caught a glance of Kaci and Hewitt running away from them with a group of uniformed police officers..

       "This way," she urged Harrison, slipping free of his grip and taking off at a run.

       The entire search site had turned into a circus of panic and disarray. Most were heading in the general direction of the screaming, but that left many running around aimlessly. Harrison silently cursed his re-acquaintance with nicotine, fighting for breath whilst falling behind the younger and fitter Megan as she dodged around the panicked array of officers and investigators. She passed Kaci and Hewitt without even a sideways glance, her sights set on the tent surrounded by chaos.

"What the fuck is going on?" Kaci asked between panting breaths, but Hewitt could only shake her head in response.

       Harrison stumbled alongside them, holding a hand to his aching ribcage. He'd only sprinted less than two hundred yards and already a stitch was burning its way into his muscles. Every breath seared his lungs and raged at his windpipe with savage viciousness.

       "Megan?" he wheezed, unable to locate her amongst the furore of bodies.

       "That way." Hewitt pointed ahead, showing none of the signs of exhaustion that hampered Harrison.

       "Green?" Harrison would have added Peter's name to the list but talking had become somewhat difficult.

       "Went walk about earlier," Kaci answered.

       Harrison mentally shook his head and then pushed forward, managing to keep pace with the two women, but only just. He was thankful when they finally began to slow due to the thickening of the crowd as they approached the source of all the commotion. The area was crammed with investigators, officers and plain clothed volunteers standing shoulder to shoulder.

       Harrison pushed his way to the front, making note of the wetness underfoot and the splashes of blood on those nearest the tent. Hewitt and Kaci followed close behind, struck silent by the scene before them.

       The tent, or what was left of it, was encircled by a wide river of dirty red. The settling liquid held solid lumps of torn flesh and canvas.

"What happened?" Harrison turned and asked only to discover the crowd all gazing upwards.

       "Jesus Christ." Kaci was already staring into the trees over head, her mouth hanging loose.

       Harrison followed her gaze, tracing the lines of blood from the tattered remnants of the tent up the thickest of the tree trunks and up further until he reached the branches and the unnatural foliage that covered them. "Fuck me," he gasped, trying to differentiate between the gnarled remains of shredded corpses and the twisted oak.

       "Peter!" Megan's voice tore Harrison away from the nightmarish garlands.

       Megan was standing, ankle deep, in crimson pulp. Her attention was fixed on the opening of the tent, waiting for a reply from her friend. A reply she was sure would never come.