Posted on July 5, 2007

Part 17

Like the trees, these markings seemed fresh, the edges newly crumbled in spots, the dirt at the bottom pressed but powdery, as if it had only recently settled after being kicked up by the passage of wheels.

This was something to follow, Elliot thought. People had been through here–it was a well used road–and that got him back to the safety in numbers thing. Leaning the gun against his shoulder like a soldier on the march, Elliot picked up his pace, excited to have the random wandering at an end.

The track continued for a good half mile or more without any increased sign of the town. He wasn’t frustrated though–this road had to lead somewhere and anywhere was better than back to the damaged truck or up to the highway, which he figured was probably swarming with crazies.

The sun had gone almost entirely down by this point, the forest defined more by shadow than light, and the resulting chill in the air felt good. He was thirsty, though, and hunger wasn’t far off. He’d walk until he couldn’t see any more and then try to grab some sleep for the night. If he were lucky he’d come across a stream he could take some nice, long gulps from and wash the dirt from his scuffle with the crazies out of his hair and off his face.

Some time later–his sense of the passing minutes had blurred and his only clock was the one in the radio of the truck–Elliot glimpsed light coming through the trees to his left. The road had maintained its size for a good distance now, and the tracks still looked the same, but the woods had thinned and what trees there were had a younger appearance, just past the sapling stage. If they’d been larger, like the ones back up by the road, he might have missed it because the light was very faint. But he saw it, flickering, back far enough from the track that he couldn’t make out its source.

He left the dirt road behind and started carefully through the trees toward the light. The ground beyond the track was soft, damp, and mossy, and this made moving quietly easy. He didn’t want to call out because the potentially silly concerns about back woods hillbillies and their undesirable ways still carried enough weight in his mind to make him think it might be a good idea to see what the people might be up to before announcing his presence and giving them the whole story of who he was and what he was up to.

And when he finally was it through the trees and close enough to see the source of the light, Elliot was glad he’d made that decision. A group of five people, all in blue and grey robes without hoods, stood in a circle. He could tell it was a circle–and not a pentagram or a misshapen box–because they’d drawn the shape in powdered white chalk in a thick line. This sparkled in light pouring from a smaller ring of torches sticking up from the ground, one in front of each of the circle’s members.

They all faced inwards, toward a small table made of fat pieces of old wood, on which sat a metal box. The lid was up but Elliot couldn’t see what was inside.

As he hunkered down behind a tree, still far enough away that they wouldn’t immediately see him, the robed people started singing. It reminded him of the readings of the Torah he’d heard or the Muslim calls to worship. The words were lost in the melody but at the same time the melody seemed wholly subservient to the words. None of it made any sense to him, regardless, and he was just glad that whatever they were chanting wasn’t the same as the babbling of the crazies.

They kept this up for ten minutes by Elliot’s guess, all standing perfectly still, singing at the box. Then, while the others continued their song, one stepped forward and lifted from the box a large, green stone. This he held above his head briefly and then walked back to his place in the circle. By his feet was a leather satchel, which he now opened and pulled out what Elliot was surprised to see was an honest to God top hat. Holding this out in front of him, he dropped in the stone and then sat down in the dirt. The man brought the hat up near his face and bent over it, pressing the opening against his head until his face disappeared inside. And he stayed there.

For half an hour they guy in a blue and grey robe stared into the hat with the stone while the other for members of the circle chanted. None of them looked like hillbillies to Elliot. In fact, they were extraordinarily clean cut, their hair carefully trimmed and combed. It was like watching a corporate boardroom–except for the sheer oddity of the activity they were engaged in.

This what you were hoping for? Elliot thought. At least they don’t act like the crazies.

Then the guy with the hat took it away from his face, stood up, and pointed in a direction fortunately away from where Elliot was sitting. The singing stopped, one of them picked up the box, another took the table, and they started walking where the man with the hat had indicated.

Elliot, being as careful as he could, followed.