The Ninth Circle by Luke Walker

Author:Luke Walker [Walker, Luke & Publishing, Wicked House]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-03-13T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Asim ran on feet that might have been broken; a shuffling, loose movement that dragged through the ash and left a pattern equal to the blood around the figure on the ground.

“Asim.” Beth tried to run after him. Gagging, she slowed. “Jesus. I can’t move fast. Go.”

Sam checked their surroundings, saw no movement, and raced after Asim, who was seconds from the figure.

The boy. You know who it is, so name him. Naajy. Right? Fucking right? Name him, Sam. Go on. We dare you.

“Fuck off,” he whispered.

Reaching the body, Asim dropped to his knees behind it. The cleaver fell from his hand and clattered on the ground. He reached, not touching until Sam closed in and called Asim’s name, willing the man not to do it, not to touch, don’t touch, don’t do it, don’t touch him, oh God, don’t touch him.

Asim held the boy by the shoulder and turned him.

The body fell to its side. Asim swallowed the corrupted air, deeper and deeper, while Sam felt that he was slowing, running through that same air now willingly pushing against him so he couldn’t get to Asim. Couldn’t find him through the heat and below the ravaged sky. Couldn’t do anything but hear Asim’s groan rise in pitch and volume until it broke out of his chest and mouth in an agonised howl without end, without human hope. But it did end. It had to. Sam reached him as the echoes of the terrible noise raced away to fade below the non-stop roar of the fires.

Asim tried to speak. It broke into harsh coughing and he tried again.

“Not him. It’s not him.”

Sam didn’t want to look. Beth joined them. He shifted closer to the body.

It was a boy around the same age and build as Naajy, but white. His throat was open in several places and while the wounds were mostly small, they’d cut into arteries.

They’re bites.

Asim sobbed, clearly close to collapse. Beth steadied him.

“It’s his jacket. They took his jacket and put it… they put it…” Asim held his breath until he gained some degree of control. “They wanted us to see this. They wanted me to think it was him.”

“What the fuck is happening?” Sam whispered.

“They’re playing with us,” Beth replied. “This is their fun. Our fear. Panic. Grief. Whatever. They enjoy it.”

“Who are they?” Sam said.

Asim jerked upright and pointed.

A few people emerged from the treeline. Three at first; another three following slowly. One broke ahead of the others.

An instant later, Sam left Asim, Beth, and the child’s body and ran for the woods.

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