The Soul Collectors

31

Darby counted three men — at least she assumed they were men, given their height and clothing — standing stock still, like mannequins, on the northern edge of the woods. The threesome stared into the woods as if waiting for something to happen.

Or waiting for the word to move ahead, she thought.

Had they already sent someone in as a spotter? Maybe a small group who were making their way to her right now?

Hidden underneath the blanket and debris, Darby slowly moved her head to the right, past the group, to do a visual sweep of the woods and the road. She moved her head as far as she could.

No other people in the woods or on the road, and she couldn't see any vehicles. The trio could have been dropped off and the vehicles parked somewhere east or south of the dumpster. No way to check unless she stood up.

Now a slow turn back to the threesome.

Still standing, still waiting.

She moved her head to the left, doing a slow, methodical visual sweep of the woods while keeping track of the road. It curved around the woods and then turned on to the main street. The only thing she saw was her bike parked a few feet beyond the fluttering yellow strips of police tape. If a spotter or spotters had been sent into the woods, they were well hidden. She couldn't see or hear them.

Back to the threesome. No change.

What the hell are they waiting for?

Darby took in a slow, deep breath, smelling the charred wood as her left hand reached up and grabbed the lens control for the monocular tube. She turned the knob slowly, zooming in on the tall person standing in front of the others. Boots, dark trousers and a dark hooded sweatshirt.

She zoomed on the face next, waited for the lens to focus.

The person's face — his true face — was covered behind the same stitched mask of leathery flesh she had seen on Charlie Rizzo. The lip of the sweatshirt's hood covered part of the forehead but not the eyes. They seemed to be staring directly at her, and she could see his lips moving. Speaking.

Darby adjusted the lens to see this person's two companions.

They hadn't moved. They stood slightly behind him, staring and waiting. Looking back to the face, Darby saw, hovering near his right cheek, what looked like the microphone end of an earpiece.

Probably one of those wireless headsets that allow the person to speak over a cell phone, she thought. You used it to keep your hands free, to keep your attention focused on a task. Is he listening to someone? Or is he the one giving orders? If he was giving orders, then some -

Blurred movement flashed in front of the lens.

Someone had stepped into her line of vision.

Darby didn't move, remained absolutely still.

The lens control was still pinched between her fingers. She turned it slowly, not making a sound, and zoomed back to the blast site to get a closer look at who or what had dashed in front of her.

A bald man with a severely scarred head was crouched on the ground, his toes hugging the edge of the crater as he looked down into the dirt where she'd thrown the tracking device. Clutched in the deformed fingers of one hand and held high in the air was an odd-shaped billy club.

A spring clicked free and the club turned into a telescopic baton with metal plates crackling with electricity.

A telescopic stun baton. They hadn't come here to kill her. They wanted to capture her. Alive.

The man, realizing she wasn't inside the crater, looked up and around the area. His face had also been horribly scarred, possibly from a burn; the thick, twisted dark meat along one cheek had, after it healed, contracted and pulled back the lips into a permanent sneer, exposing crooked and blackened teeth. His right eye darted back and forth, but the left, a sightless white orb, didn't move.

Ghoul. That was the first word that flashed through her mind. A ghoul dressed in modern clothing — dark baggy sweatpants and a half-zipped sweatshirt that revealed a scarred chest with skin stretched tightly across knobs of deformed bone, like Charlie Rizzo's. She saw the skin stretching across the ribs as the ghoul breathed, wheezing plumes of air that evaporated in the cold night.

The ghoul — she didn't know what else to call it — jumped into the crater as scattering sounds came from the woods. She looked towards the northern edge of the woods and saw the trio still standing there, watching and waiting.

They sent this thing in to knock me out and then drag me away.

To where? The same place where Mark Rizzo was being held?

Smashing sounds and then a howl of pain roared from inside the basement.

Two more figures had moved to the edge of the crater.

Like the ghoul rooting around in the scorched dirt, this bone-thin pair were dressed in ratty clothing and had shaved heads and scars. They both held telescopic stun batons. One of the pair was crouched low to the ground, looking around the woods and street like a hunter.

Not looking, she thought. Guarding. The other stood ramrod straight, its back facing her. She could see the tattoo on its neck: Et in Arcadia ego. Even in Arcadia, Death exists.

The thing turned, sniffing the air in front of her.

Darby clutched the MK23. If this thing came at her — if it discovered her — she'd put it down with a headshot, then turn to the other two in the crater before dealing with -

Snapping sounds and then she saw the ghoul scurrying up from the basement. The thing's face was darkened by soot and dirt, and she saw a bright red gash on the side of its head. Its mouth opened as it looked up to the singed tree branches.

'Ka-kah! Ka-kah!'

Silence. The three ghouls had turned stock still, waiting.

Incredibly, she saw the end of a small, wireless earpiece protruding from the ear canal of the one standing closest to her.

Take them down, she thought. Take them down now.

The three ghouls scattered into the woods, running like wild dogs, snapping twigs and whisking past branches as they headed towards the northern end, where the other three stood waiting.

In the distance she heard a car starting. Next came the sound of a climbing car engine. It grew louder and then she saw a vehicle pull on to the road — a dark van. It came to a sharp stop and the doors slid open, then the deformed things rushed inside.

Two of the watchers from the woods followed, but not the tall one. He stayed where he was, looking, Darby thought, straight at her.