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Sara quietly lifted a Mach 15 from the rack over the grenades and loaded it . She placed a finger to her lips and O’Donnell gave a brief humourless smile. His side-arm was already aimed in the direction of the sound. A weasel-like creature stepped through into the clearing and stood still.
“What the fuck is that?” O’Donnell muttered,
“How would I know?” Sara replied then said,
“It’s not a fearie or it would have attacked.”
The creature approached them, O’Donnell pulled back the hammer on his weapon and it stopped moving again. Sara frowned,
“I wonder if it’s an Imp?”
“Well, who is it protecting?”
“Jenny?”
The creature looked up at that and Sara said,
“Boris?” shake of the head,
“Horace then.” a quick nod.
“What happened to Boris?”
Horace snarled and Sara said,
“Those shots and screams we heard earlier – you killed the sniper, but he got Boris first?”
A dip of the head and O’Donnell sympathised,
“Sorry to hear it. You saved our bacon though, thanks for that.”
Horace looked around and Sara told him,
“Jenny’s gone in that direction,” she pointed to the wood, “I’ll bet she’ll be glad of your help….”
Horace had already scampered into the undergrowth and vanished. She looked at O’Donnell and shrugged,
“And that is apparently that.”
**************
Father Wilson sat at his desk and thumbed through a thick file. The latest medical reports on Edmund FitzGerald Brown were worrying. Like the other Chosen Ones the effort of producing fear creatures was taking its toll and the young man would soon die and need to be replaced.
He sat back with a sigh, rumours had helped throw up a smoke-screen around their activities. Chosen Ones, according to the rumour mill, were immune to the effects of the evie bug. Even MCI believed that only immunes were being revered by various other cults. This had been to the brotherhood’s advantage while they developed God’s army. The cybermites that Edmund had dreamed up were the culmination of years of work. The problem with the birthing chamber had been fixed with the loss of only ten.
Father Wilson stood, an acolyte needed to be found. Someone for Brown to share his ideas with and possibly improve on them. One problem was that Edmund’s power over the cybermite soldiers would end once he died and Father Wilson had no idea what would happen then. Events were beginning to overtake him, his hand was being forced. He was going to need to move before everything was in place. Wilson could only hope that his daughter did not realise what she was capable of before he had her drugged and under his control.
*******
Brother Smith had different plans. The Morris creature would be following her and he realised his best chance was a snare to temporarily take him out of the picture. He laid a wire loop carefully and covered it with dead leaves. Attached the other end to a branch, bent over and secured to the ground with a rope. He smiled – the old tricks were the most reliable. Smith waited, knife in one hand and a snub nose revolver, taken from Sharpe, in the other.
------
In five hundred years time, most of us will be forgotten dust. But Hitler will still be remembered, God loves irony.
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Fear book 3 - part 9
