The Word of God by Christopher Cummings Read Free Book Online

splintered sapling. The flesh had mostly rotted off, what remained appearing a mixture of blood red and revolting yellowy-brown in the light of the setting sun. It was just like something out of a horror movie.
    Or my worst nightmare , Peter thought.
    For a moment he was too stunned and frightened to speak. He could only cling to a tree and stare in ghastly fascination at the macabre scene. The skull, he saw, was still attached to the man’s neck (Had it been a man? He wasn’t sure). A broken branch stuck up through the rib cage. Strips of dried and rotten flesh and skin hung in ribbons. Tufts of hair still clung to the scalp of the skull.
    Stephen had been sick and was shaking. He looked ghastly, pale even in the red glow. “You see why I didn’t want the girls to come?” he gasped.
    Peter swallowed, licked his lips and nodded. “Yes,” was all he could croak.
    Graham pointed: “There are more. At least two more.”
    Peter now saw that there were bleached bones scattered down the slopeamidst the rocks, bushes and dead leaves. Another wave of fear and horror swept over him. After licking dry lips and swallowing to moisten his dry throat he said: “So the man at the bottom was telling the truth; they were going to kill these people.”
    Graham nodded. “Looks like they have done it quite a few times over the years. I wonder how many bodies are here?”
    â€œNever mind that!” Stephen cried, his voice cracking with emotion. “Let’s get this bloke up to the top.”
    Peter forced himself to tear his eyes from the skeleton. He moved over and knelt beside the injured Devil Worshipper. The man was crumpled amongst the rocks and his leg was twisted back at an odd angle. Stephen had removed the man’s balaclava and Peter could see that he was unconscious and had a huge bruise on his temple.
    â€œIs he badly hurt?”
    Stephen shrugged. “Can’t tell. Broken leg for sure, and probably concussion at least.”
    With an effort of willpower Peter bent and felt the man’s pulse. It was weak and thready and his skin was clammy to the touch. “He needs proper medical attention urgently I reckon,” he said. Trembling with emotion he straightened up and looked around for the easiest way to get the man up onto the track. The mountainside in both directions looked even steeper than where he had come down. Not far below them was an outcrop and after that a long drop.
    Graham pointed up. “Back the way we came,” he said. “I checked both ways. They are too steep.”
    â€œWe need a stretcher,” Peter said.
    Graham shook his head: “No chance of moving him that way. We’d never do it. Not without more people and time.”
    Stephen moved closer and clung to a sapling. “We’d better do something. It is getting dark fast,” he added.
    At that moment Gwen’s voice floated down from above. “Hello you boys! Do want a hand? Is everything alright?”
    â€œYes. We are coming back up now,” Peter yelled, twisting his head to look up. He was afraid that Gwen would see the skeleton but he could not see her.
    Graham acted. “We mustn’t let the girls see this,” he said. Before Peter realized what he was going to do Graham had bent down and grabbed the injured Devil Worshipper by the collar and hauled him up from among the trees and rocks.
    â€œCareful Graham! You could cause further injuries,” Peter cried.
    â€œTough!” Graham snorted. “We should just toss the murdering bastard over the cliff the same way as he dealt with these poor buggers.”
    Ignoring Peter’s objections Graham started dragging the injured man up the slope by brute force. Stephen moved to help. Seeing no other option, and acutely aware that the last of the sun was slipping below the mountains, Peter also took hold.
    It was hard work and took them ten sweating, swearing minutes to drag the man to the