something move under the snow from out the corner of her eye. She spun round, but nothing moved. When Marcel had caught up with her, he looked at her with concern. “What’s up?”
“Nothing, I just…” She didn’t want to tell him she was seeing things. He’d think she was even more of a drunk than she already was. “Look, I think that’s where the kids were digging.”
She pointed to a mound of ice surrounded by spots of blood.
“I’ll get the shovel,” Marcel said.
While Carise was waiting for Marcel to return, she took a closer look around the area, and she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that someone was watching her. She took the flashlight from her belt and scanned around the trees and stones. No one stared at her, but the shadows shifted at the wrong time whenever she moved the flashlight, as if there was a time delay, or a lag, like the world’s processor was too slow to compute. But then she wondered if it was just her eyesight. Maybe she’d drunk more than she actually remembered. She didn’t feel drunk, but then that’s what alcohol abusers often said.
She put the odd sensation behind her and inspected the spots of blood spattered in the snow. The whole area was covered in footprints but the mound itself was smooth—a freshly dug snow grave..
“Okay,” Marcel said, bringing the shovel to the ice. “Let’s see what we’ve got here. You don’t have to look if you—”
“No, it’s fine,” Carise said. “Let’s just hurry up and see what’s under there.”
Marcel dug into the ice, and soon uncovered the remains of the body that the other boys had gathered together. He bent down, picked up a fragment from the pile of bones and clothes…and a face.
“That’s not the result of any animal I know,” Marcel said, passing the object to Carise.
She took from him a fragment of something…that looked like… “It’s a bone, but it’s twisted and looks like it was snapped off at the end. What the hell could have done this?”
It was more rhetorical than anything. She really didn’t want to know. And it seemed Marcel didn’t either. Climbing out of the hole, he took the bone fragment from Carise and inspected it himself.
“It’s a collar bone,” he said. “Or was…you can tell by the joint on the end there.”
“What would have the strength to twist human bone?”
“Maybe it’s some kind of weird medical condition. But either way, I think we should head up to the cave. Nothing more we can do here,” Marcel said. “I’ll let Frank know about the remains. Maybe he and the morning shift can come by and search for more evidence.”
“I really don’t like any of this,” Carise said, heading back towards the chopper. “Wait…what’s that…” A rumble shook beneath her feet.
It wasn’t coming from the rotors or the downdraft.
She looked across to Marcel, who still stood by the stones, and saw the horror on his face. She knew she shouldn’t, but she followed his gaze.
Her blood froze.
8
Carise screamed as she jumped back from the freshly dug hole and scrambled backward past the standing stones. A plume of ice and wind burst from under the shallow grave, sending snow and bone fragments into the air and carrying the stench of carrion with it.
A black, leathery, tentaclelike appendage, at least a meter wide and ten times as long, extended up from the hole in the mountain and thrashed about as if it were sensing them, like a snake tasting the air and locating its prey.
It eased farther from the ground, its tip now above the height of the standing stones. It whipped about the air like a frenzied eel. Its skin appeared clammy under the flashlight, but on its underside were rows and rows of curved hooks.
“What the hell is that?” Carise screamed as she ducked under a wide, arching swipe; the hooks just brushing against her thick, winter jacket.
“Whatever it is, let’s not find out just yet.” He grabbed Carise by
“Nothing, I just…” She didn’t want to tell him she was seeing things. He’d think she was even more of a drunk than she already was. “Look, I think that’s where the kids were digging.”
She pointed to a mound of ice surrounded by spots of blood.
“I’ll get the shovel,” Marcel said.
While Carise was waiting for Marcel to return, she took a closer look around the area, and she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that someone was watching her. She took the flashlight from her belt and scanned around the trees and stones. No one stared at her, but the shadows shifted at the wrong time whenever she moved the flashlight, as if there was a time delay, or a lag, like the world’s processor was too slow to compute. But then she wondered if it was just her eyesight. Maybe she’d drunk more than she actually remembered. She didn’t feel drunk, but then that’s what alcohol abusers often said.
She put the odd sensation behind her and inspected the spots of blood spattered in the snow. The whole area was covered in footprints but the mound itself was smooth—a freshly dug snow grave..
“Okay,” Marcel said, bringing the shovel to the ice. “Let’s see what we’ve got here. You don’t have to look if you—”
“No, it’s fine,” Carise said. “Let’s just hurry up and see what’s under there.”
Marcel dug into the ice, and soon uncovered the remains of the body that the other boys had gathered together. He bent down, picked up a fragment from the pile of bones and clothes…and a face.
“That’s not the result of any animal I know,” Marcel said, passing the object to Carise.
She took from him a fragment of something…that looked like… “It’s a bone, but it’s twisted and looks like it was snapped off at the end. What the hell could have done this?”
It was more rhetorical than anything. She really didn’t want to know. And it seemed Marcel didn’t either. Climbing out of the hole, he took the bone fragment from Carise and inspected it himself.
“It’s a collar bone,” he said. “Or was…you can tell by the joint on the end there.”
“What would have the strength to twist human bone?”
“Maybe it’s some kind of weird medical condition. But either way, I think we should head up to the cave. Nothing more we can do here,” Marcel said. “I’ll let Frank know about the remains. Maybe he and the morning shift can come by and search for more evidence.”
“I really don’t like any of this,” Carise said, heading back towards the chopper. “Wait…what’s that…” A rumble shook beneath her feet.
It wasn’t coming from the rotors or the downdraft.
She looked across to Marcel, who still stood by the stones, and saw the horror on his face. She knew she shouldn’t, but she followed his gaze.
Her blood froze.
8
Carise screamed as she jumped back from the freshly dug hole and scrambled backward past the standing stones. A plume of ice and wind burst from under the shallow grave, sending snow and bone fragments into the air and carrying the stench of carrion with it.
A black, leathery, tentaclelike appendage, at least a meter wide and ten times as long, extended up from the hole in the mountain and thrashed about as if it were sensing them, like a snake tasting the air and locating its prey.
It eased farther from the ground, its tip now above the height of the standing stones. It whipped about the air like a frenzied eel. Its skin appeared clammy under the flashlight, but on its underside were rows and rows of curved hooks.
“What the hell is that?” Carise screamed as she ducked under a wide, arching swipe; the hooks just brushing against her thick, winter jacket.
“Whatever it is, let’s not find out just yet.” He grabbed Carise by
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