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Carl's body trembled as much as the bonds would let him. It was
dark , and the sounds of frogs calling for rain battled with the humming
and stinging of yellow flies. The pall of night was nearly supreme with the
new moon's depression evident. Only a few twinkling stars managed to peep
through the mist that lay upon the Okefenokee Swamp. The stars were
brighter than he had ever seen, but there was no time to think about that
now.
His captors methodically pushed the boat along with the pole. It
was silent, this way. Silence was welcome for such a gruesome ritual as
would be performed. At his side, a woman and a child lay equally as bound,
gagged, and mortified. Whimpers could scarcely escape.
Nothing was spoken by the captors. This was a moment of
reverence. A time to prepare for the task at hand. A chance to cleanse
themselves before offering the sacrifices. Silence had crowned the group
since they crept out onto the Suwanee just below the swamp's southern
border with the offerings in tow. That had been at least two hours ago,
though it seemed far longer to the prey.
When the boat gently slowed and bumped into the peat moss shore,
Carl was certain that he had no idea how he could return, even should he
escape. He would meander around the stagnant waterways for days. But
escape did not seem like much of an option at this moment.
Rough hands grabbed him by the knees and shoulders and hauled
him ashore. He could feel the uneasy steps the murderers took while lugging
him across the trembling earth. He was finally placed on his knees looking
upon a wooden altar. The little girl was placed kneeling beside him. In the
faintness of the candlelight, he could see the woman forcefully knelt before
the altar. Her whimpering was more audible now, though not because her
gag had been removed.
"It is customary to ask our sacrifices," spoke a voice out of the eerie
mist, "If they will forsake their heathen gods and serve the true God
Elzenakhim, Lord of Earth and Water, Keeper of the Dead. Woman, will
you abandon the foolish doctrines of your fathers and return to serve the
true God?"
The figure had stepped out of the mist and into the light. It was a
large man, though his face was not visible. A large mask fashioned out of
the head of an alligator covered the features; its skin draped part way down
his back. His torso was exposed to the night, and upon his chest and
stomach strange runes had been scribed. Alligator skin had been fashioned
into a crude kilt. His hand clutched a twisted staff, from which were hung
strands of alligator teeth and black bear claws, like an evil rosary.
"You answer me not, woman? Will you abandon your false Gods
and serve Elzenakhim?"
She shook her head furiously. This upset the masked demon. He
bent down to her, chanting low, guttural tones as he traced her jaw with a
finger. He straightened up, looking upon her with burning disdain. Then, he
brought his staff upon her violently. As he did, the staff changed into a
snake. Its bite shocked her as well as the captive onlookers. Just as
suddenly, it changed back into a staff as it was raised.
More guttural tones were given, and the two others came to his
side. They were also decorated in runes, however they lacked the
headdresses. Carl recognized one of them. He was the sheriff. He had hoped
that the sheriff had escaped, never realizing that he was part of the
treachery. All this time that he had been pressing the sheriff for details on
the strange occurrences for the newspaper, he had been led on. They had
gone on a stakeout of the activity, since this was the new moon, the time of
the traditional disappearances. Two men with guns had sneaked up on
them. Helpless, they had begged for mercy. Those pleas had been quickly
ended by the blow from a club, which brought on unconsciousness.
The sheriff took a stone dagger from the altar and cut the back of
her shirt. He then began to carve a different set of runes into her flesh. The
yellow flies and mosquitoes, which were already problematic, became a
plague. When he finished, he laid the bloodtipped dagger onto the altar.
The other man picked up the scourge from the altar and began his work. Carl
closed his eyes, unable to watch as the pieces of bone and teeth and metal
ripped flesh from the supple skin on her back , neck , arms, and face. He
tried not to count how many times she was lashed, knowing that a similar
fate awaited him.
The report from the scourge and its echoes subsided. The frogs and
crickets who had ceased to invoke their blessings during the racket
commenced their songs again. Their sad, plaintive tones were a fitting
requiem1. Her body shook in agony, and she whimpered as much as the small
child beside Carl. The sheriff and the other villain stood her up, sending
searing pain through her maimed body as they touched her. Then, they
hoisted her onto the table, and stepped back to await orders.
The masked horror approached her again. He bent over her, and
watched the terror in her eyes gleefully.
"Since you will not serve the true God Elzenakhim, we must purify
you to prepare you for death, you insolent hag," he said.
Then, he gave more unintelligible commands. His two henchman
approached her at the altar. They cut the rope fastening her hands. She was
almost too weak and tormented to fight, and her feeble attempts were easily
quashed. Each arm was spread at a diagonal, and tied off to a spike
extending from each corner. In like manner were her feet bound. The stone
dagger once more left runic marks upon her once lovely flesh.
The masked leader began to lead them in a chant that congealed
Carl's blood. They paced slowly around the altar, repeating the same evil
words. Both of the servants tossed what seemed to be dust upon her. The
chant intensified, and the staff morphed rapidly between its snake and
wooden forms. Blue flames began to rise from the runes engraved into her
skin. They danced along her body, not seeming to burn her. Then, as
suddenly as the chant ceased, a blue flame erupted from the staff's head and
scorched the victim.
Her bonds were loosened. She would not need them now.
Elzenakhim had rid her of her insolence, and her form would never again
take life. The sheriff and his accomplice lugged her body over to the water's
edge, where candlelight reflected upon the red eyes of the waiting alligators.
The initial splash was followed by many others as they fought over over
remains, tearing her apart in large chunks. Those fortunate enough to claim
1 requiem: a musical piece played for the dead
and defend a portion, returned to their wallows, where their meat would sit
for a few weeks. When it was sufficiently rotten and tender, they would
devour it in shredded gulps. The others waited, for ritual told them that
there would be more.
"Carl," the masked priest began as he approached. "The Sheriff tells
me that you have had an interest in our worship. He also tells me that you
are atheist. We commend you for not worshipping the heathen gods of those
who surround us. Perhaps now you have seen the power of Elzenakhim,
and now you know that he is the true God? We would like you to become
one of our brothers. Will you accept our invitation into the priesthood of
the true God Elzenakhim, Lord of Earth and Water, Keeper of the Dead?"
Carl nodded so violently that he pulled muscles. It was not his
intention to die tonight. He would do whatever it took to get out of this
swamp. Then, he would bring these murderers to justice. It would be a great
story, too.
"We are pleased that you accept our invitation, Carl. Since you are
atheist, you will need no scourging as a consequence of idolatry. But you
will still need purification. As a warning to you, if you think that you will
merely escape and make a mockery of the solemn, ancient priesthood order of
Elzenakhim, know this: Traitors will have no altar when they are caught.
They are not peacefully taken out of this life. They are maimed and bound.
“Early in the afternoon, they are suspended upside down from that
tree limb. Their heads can be easily submerged into the water. As they wait,
getting a blood rush, they try not to drown. But it is inevitable. There is
only so long that you can raise your head out of the water, especially after
the torture that you will first endure. Normally they die long before the
gators began feeding at dusk , but not always.
“In any case, the alligators will find you here, and they will rip
your head from your body. The rest of your carcass will be thrown into the
frenzy afterwards. These creatures will savor your bloody mass, as they take
your soul down to the dungeon that Elzenakhim has prepared for those
who mock him. This is the penalty of the traitor. Are you certain that you
wish to join our ancient order, or shall you be sacrificed to Elzenakhim? We
only need two sacrifices each new moon. But He would be pleased with a
third in any case."
Again, Carl nodded fervently. He didn't put much credence in gods
of any sort. Their cruelty and trickery wouldn't deceive him. He would put
an end to this cult.
"Then, brother, we shall seal you His. Then, you will have the
power to help in these ordinances, whenever your turn shall come. There are
normally only two priests that help the High Priest at any time. But you
will be expected at our normal gatherings of brothers."
With that, the High Priest gave more guttural commands. Carl was
taken to the altar and placed on top. When they cut his bonds, he tried to
struggle free, but they overpowered him. He was fastened in the same
fashion as the first sacrifice.
"Ah, frightened are we, brother? Do not worry, you will not suffer
the same fate as she did. You will soon understand," the High Priest spoke
as Carl struggled.
The stone dagger, still red with the previous victim's life force, sank
into his skin. His eyes bulged as the runes were cut into his chest. He tried
to remain calm though. It was difficult, when the chanting began. It didn't
sound the same as the last one, but he couldn't be sure. Still, they were
circling him and chanting. The dust cast upon him seared when it hit the
open, gushing wounds. Then, he saw the blue light coming from his chest.
Doubtless it was now all about to end. So, maybe he believed a little in
that mystic power after all. But when the chanting stopped, he was still
alive. His hands were cut loose, as were his feet.
"There is much to learn, brother. But each new priest learns with
practice, as you will now have."
Carl stood up, and looked at his chest. It featured the same runes as
the others. They seemed almost legible now. Indeed, he was certain that it
represented the name of Elzenakhim. He had truly been sealed to him—not
that this Elzenakhim existed.
"What practice am I to have?" Carl asked hesitantly.
"You will assist in the purification of this girl, the daughter of the
idolatrous hag."
Carl's heart stumbled. Surely this was not true. He had forgotten
about the girl in the midst of his own troubles. This group was good. They
make sure that no new recruits could tattle, since they immediately made
them just as guilty as the rest. What would he do?
"But first, you must be dressed in the official robes. It is customary
that the new initiates receive their robes from those that introduced them to
the order."
With that the sheriff began to remove the kilt. As he did, Carl
noted that he still had on his uniform bottoms and holster. He accepted the
robes hesitantly, and began to fasten them on. He noted that this hide kilt
was fastened with alligator teeth. It made him strangely wonder what
Elzenakhim looked like, though naturally he couldn't exist.
The little girl was brought before the altar, where she knelt
petrified. The other henchman came to assist Carl. He crouched down beside
the girl, prepared to show how the runes must be cut. Carl took the dagger
from the altar hesitantly, but did as he was told. He stooped over, as if to
cut the girl's shirt, and instead jabbed the dagger into the neck of the
henchman. It made a horrid sound as it slit his windpipe and continued
around to slice a jugular. Blood spurted everywhere, and the now defunct
collapsed against the altar. Several candles fell over from the force of this,
and began to burn the rich peat. Carl shifted the knife to his left hand.
Carl reached over and grabbed the whip quickly, still banking on
the sheriff and the high priest to be stunned. They were just beginning to
recover from the shock , when Carl cracked the scourge on the Sheriff. Shreds
of skin went flying, and he switched his target to the high priest. The
alligator's head was sent flying, and the staff fell from his hand. Carl had
never seen the man before, as best as he could tell. But the scarred sheriff
was beginning to reach for his gun. That precluded any further study of the
high priest. He slung the dagger into the stranger's chest, and the high priest
collapsed with a groan.
His first blow sent the barely drawn gun crashing down. Lashing
him several times, the sheriff recoiled, hands over head. Repeated blows sent
the sheriff to his knees. Carl brought the scourge around another time, half
trapping the sheriff's hands around his head. He kicked the corrupt officer
in the head, and panted forcefully as the sheriff collapsed. Carl ran over to
the girl, still wielding the whip. She looked at him as if he were crazy. With
pity, he grabbed the girl, the knife, and his shirt and ran to the boat with
her. He pushed off, eager to leave the scene behind him.
After getting a few feet from shore, Carl put the pole down. He
took his shirt and wiped some of the unknown villain's blood from her tear
strewn face. Then, he removed her gag. She immediately began to scream,
just like she had wanted to do ages before. Carl cupped his hand over her
mouth.
"Quiet, girl. I'm not going to hurt you. We're going to get out of
here. We're safe now."
As he said it, a gunshot echoed across the swamp. Carl decided that
there were better times to comfort little girls. He let her fall into a sobbing
heap and grabbed the pole. He shoved as hard as he could into the night,
trying to stay low. That was no easy task , but the series of shots aided him.
He looked back to see a maimed sheriff standing on the banks of an island
of fire. The light was good, for it helped Carl see. However, it helped the
sheriff, too. The last shot sent wood splinters flying as a bullet entered the
side of the boat and pierced the bottom.
Carl continued to push until he was sure there were no more shots
coming. The sheriff was a distant figure now. His chanting could just be
heard where they were at. He was sure that the stench of burning flesh
would soon fill the air. The fire would no doubt spread to other parts of the
swamp. It was a real shame, but out of fire's destruction often came new
life.
At the moment, Carl had little time to worry with new life. He was
too intent on saving his. Water had begun to seep into the boat. He had not
gotten this far only to drown. His body ached from the intensity of his
recent adrenaline rush. Still, he forced his limbs to move. He took off his
shirt and plugged the hole as best as he could.
"Child, what's your name?" He asked, cutting her bonds.
"Suzie," she managed between sobs.
"Suzie, I'm Carl. I know you're real scared right now. I'm scared,
too. But I need you to do something for me. Can you hold this shirt right
here and make sure that it doesn't leave this hole, please, Suzie?"
"Yes, sir," she replied.
"Good, you're a brave girl. Now we're going to get out of this all
right, okay. Do you know how to sing "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star?"
"Uh huh."
"Can you sing it for me?"
Carl had Suzie sing several songs as time went by. It helped calm
her nerves some. But he was still on edge. He wasn't going to tell her that
he could be going around in circles for all he knew. He wished he had
learned to find the North Star, and that he could use it to guide his way
out. He wished that the mist would cease and that there was enough light
to actually see. He wished that he had learned to swim when he was
younger. He wished that the boat wasn't half full of water. He wished that
he weren't in a swamp filled with hungry alligators. He wished that he had
been a doctor instead of a reporter. In short, he wished a million things
right then, but no amount of wishing would help his present situation.
His string of wishes was interrupted as they bumped into
something firm. Carl, who had been standing to push along with the pole,
almost fell over into the water. The water sloshed around inside the boat.
Suzie quit singing.
"It's okay, Suzie. You can keep singing. It's probably just a cypress
knee," Carl said to reassure her.
"No," Suzie said, trembling with terror. "Gators."
From The Dementia of Iyan Igma
Copyleft 2007/2008 by Iyan Igma
Creative Commons AttributionNoncommercialNo Derivative Works 3.0
United States License