CHAPTER THIRTY‑FIVE

Lander hugged the high branches long after the creature had gone. He didn’t dare move, for what if it came back!

Oh, it would tear him asunder!

Break his legs like wishbones.

Eat his cock.

Oh, there are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio… More things in hell. Spewing forth demons to walk the night.

He gazed down at the moonlit dead.

Perhaps they were left as bait to lure him down. Cheese for the mouse.

Wee timorous beastie…

Bait for the beastie.

Minnows and worms. The play is the tragedy “Man” and its hero the Conqueror Worm.

Worm me no worms.

Bird food. Fish bait.

As he watched, the headless woman raised an arm and pointed at him. His skin shriveled.

No no no!

I didn’t see that. Impossible. No no no! A trick of light.

He rubbed his eyes, and looked again.

Still pointing at him, she sat up.

“You’re dead, ” he whispered.

Oh, I’m dreaming. Dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before. No mortal, she.

She can’t do this!

“Lie down! ” he shouted.

Oh God, he’ll hear me. He’ll come, and she’ll point me out. She’ll finger me. He’ll shake me from the tree and eat my cock and break off my legs like wishbones and run away with my head!

“Damn you! ” he sputtered.

He scurried down the tree, and rushed to her. She was lying down, playing innocent.

“Villainous whore! ”

He punched his knife into her belly. Again and again. As he stabbed, he noticed her breasts. Though the moonlight was dim, he saw their strange, wrinkled folds and lumps.

He looked more closely.

The breasts were covered by pale rags of flesh tied to her body with thongs. He cut the garment free. He raised it into the moonlight, and groaned.

The rags were human faces.

Small faces, peeled from small heads.

The faces of children.

He threw them to the ground, and stared. Then he heard quiet footfalls behind him.

Tricked!

With a shriek of terror, he looked back. The bushes parted, and out stepped a woman.

A big woman.

An Amazon armed with a rifle.

She aimed at him.

“Don’t shoot! ”

She hesitated. “What the fuck? ” she muttered. “You… Who are you? ”

“One whose name was writ in sand. ”

“Hey, I know you! ” She lowered her rifle. “You’re…”

With a laugh, he flung his knife.