The Centaur by Brendan Carroll Page B

all, but a solid surface only a few inches below the white stone on which they perched. Smooth, black and completely non-reflective. It absorbed the light from the flashlight as if hungry for photons. Both men let out involuntary yelps when the truth became apparent. Galen scrambled back as Michael tried to pull him up simultaneously. They scurried back a few dozen paces and stood holding each other like two frightened schoolboys. When nothing attacked them immediately, they let go of each other and straightened their jackets before walking back to the pit for a closer look. Galen would not approach any closer than a yard before stopping again and watching as Michael knelt on one knee beside the anomalous object. He reached tentatively toward it and heard Galen draw a sharp breath before he placed his hand on the invisible surface.
    “Hmmm.” Michael commented and ran his hand over the smooth blackness.
    “What?” Galen breathed the word and then jumped as another of the unearthly howls echoed across the pit. The horses snorted and whinnied nervously in their selected campsite.
    “It feels like plastic,” Michael frowned and wiggled closer to the indention.  He pushed his hand further out and then jerked it back suddenly, causing Galen to shriek.
    “Damn it, Michael!!” Galen was beside him in an instant. “What the hell are you doing?! You don’t know what that is. Come on. Let’s get back and build a fire. There are some wooden fragments back there. Broken casings or crates or something. It’s getting dark and…” The blonde man stopped talking as another sound grew around them. A low, rumbling, grating sound, as if something were pushing one of the stone blocks across the ground. They could feel the vibrations of the sound in their feet.
    “What’s that?” Michael clutched Galen’s arm. “Do you feel it?”
    “I feel it!” Galen hissed as he stumbled backwards, dragging Michael with him. “Let’s get away from this.”
    They turned and ran back to the sheltered portion of the ruins. The rumbling stopped and the lonely howl of a jackal echoed from somewhere out on the plains.
    Michael sighed in relief when he recognized the more familiar bark of the wild dog.
    “Jackal.” He said with some satisfaction as he helped Galen build the fire. They gathered all the wood they could find and then made themselves as comfortable as possible. They would take turns sleeping and keeping the fire burning, hoping that it would deter any wild creatures, not daring to think that it might have the opposite affect on not-so-wild creatures lurking in the darkness of the moonless night.
    At half past three in the morning, Galen shook Michael from a sound sleep. The grating, rumbling noise had returned, louder and seemingly emanating from everywhere at once. Both men looked about in growing panic, trying to find the source of the disturbance. Again, they could feel it in their legs. Tiny pebbles and individual grains of sand danced on the surface of the stone floor where they sat. The vibration caused a shift in the firewood and the resulting popping and snapping caused them both to yelp in fright.
    “Maybe we should take our chances out on the plain,” Galen whispered. The horses continued to prance about, snorting and whinnying softly, yanking against their tethers, trying to stamp their hobbled feet.
    “Perhaps you are right,” Michael agreed. They gathered their meager belongs and stamped out the fire. Just as they were about to ascend the scrabbly ramp leading up to the plain, they saw a strange blue light beyond the tumbled down pillars of the temple.
    “Lucifer.” Galen’s hopes soared. It was the very same light that the angelic warriors had exuded whenever the night caught them in their travels.
    “Not so fast.” Michael caught his cousin’s arm.
    The light grew in intensity. Whatever or whoever it was, they were coming toward them. Galen shivered when he heard the sing of steel on leather. Michael had