story Chapter 2

[Butchern]

It took a minute for Emma to respond. Her eyes were squished shut. She looked as though she were gathering herself. "I guess I was having a bad dream," she said finally. "I thought I was following a bird . . . in my dream." She shook her head and clenched her fists.

"Mr. Timmelson?" she replied when asked about the goat herder. "I . . . guess I don't know. He's always been like that?" Her eyes darted from Malcolm to Coupard and then she closed them tightly again for a second. "And I don't think it will get worse," she added almost apologetically. "It's almost over." She stuck her hand into the big floppy pocket on her night dress.

"Father would be worried if he knew I was sleep walking. I'll go right home." She turned on her heels and started to fast-walk back up the way they had come.

[Sir Lazeabout]

“What’s almost over, Emma?” Malcolm says as unthreateningly as he can. He is starting to realise that if there is a meeting of some sort by the stone, he needs to go spy on it. And that may just be the death of him, and if he had any sense he’d run away as fast as his injured leg could carry him, but… but…

[matt_s]

Coupard has had enough. First all the business back in Charleston, then Malcolm having half his thigh exculpated by gunfire, and now this half baked story about sleepwalking?

I think we ought to talk things over, here and now. There are many things your father wouldn't like, and you can be right dang sure he'll find them out if you don't start explaining. Don't act like we haven't seen what you have in your pocket, and don't get any crazy ideas either. We're going to hash out exactly what is happening in this little town, here and now. First off, where are you going, and as my colleague said, what is almost over?

 

[Butchern]

Anger flashed across Emma's face. As quickly as it came, the anger vanished, and she looked confused again. She took her hand out of her pocket. She was holding a long shaving razor.

"I'm not sure what I'm doing out here," she said weakly. She looked around. "Nor where I was going. That way, I guess." She pointed in the direction of the farmhouse and the unusual stone. "I'm very tired. It will be over soon. The cycle is ending, and the visitors will leave. That's what they always do. They come from the outer dark. The space between the stars, and then they leave." She slowly turned her head toward the treetops. The tops of the trees were filled with large black shapes. Silent as the night. Hundreds of them.

She turned again to face the way she was going originally, toward the farmhouse and the stone. "I really think I should do what they say. This will be over very soon." And with that, she took off running into the swamp.

Edited February 26, 2023 by Butchern (see edit history)

[matt_s]

Coupard curses under his breath and tackles the fleeing girl. To Malcolm, he shouts,

Let's search her - maybe she has some literature or artifacts on her. Then, let's regroup in Charleston.

Of course, Coupard has no intention of doing so. They needed to deal with this, once and for all.

We can tie her up, should take a good deal of time, but not forever, for her to work free.

 

[Sir Lazeabout]

Malcolm nods.

"All right, let's," he says. "Sounds like things are coming to a head..."

Which means that he's just got one more chance to get to the heart of this.

[Butchern]

Coupard tackled Emma, and she crumpled under his weight with a whimper. There wasn't much to her, and she didn't put up much a fight.

A quick search revealed that she wore only a nightgown with two large pockets which were now empty. It certainly did not appear that she had planned her midnight outing in advance. The straight razor was an ordinary and well-used shaving razor.

The girl was easy to tie up. While they bound her bare feet she whimpered, "This is no good. They are calling me to the stone. They will be very angry. I have to go. This is no good at all."

[matt_s]

Out of earshot of Emma, Coupard comments,

We ought to see what the blazes is going at the stone tonight, one way or another. If we decide to disperse them with gunfire, they may be too distracted to notice our approach, but we barely know the swamp, while the lot of them could run us down with no trouble at all even if our initial intrusion is unnoticed. I reckon that would be a fast route to the grave.

This one will obviously run her mouth to someone the first chance she gets, and I'm not exactly in the kidnapping business, so the clock is ticking there. Same goes for our cover here - they may not be certain we are the ones poking around, but they're getting pretty dang sure, that's my guess.

Let's ask her a few more questions first, I suppose.

Coupard returns to Emma, and asks

How many of you "worshippers" are out there? Is there something special happening tonight? How "bad" is it that you are hindered here on this night? Have you been there before? The call or whatever it is, does it come on without forewarning?

If you lie to us, I regret to inform you that there will be hell to pay.

 

[Sir Lazeabout]

Malcolm stands behind Coupard with his arms folded, trying to look as menacing as he's able.

[Butchern]

On 3/2/2023 at 9:48 PM, matt_s said:

How many of you "worshippers" are out there? Is there something special happening tonight? How "bad" is it that you are hindered here on this night? Have you been there before? The call or whatever it is, does it come on without forewarning?

If you lie to us, I regret to inform you that there will be hell to pay.

  "How many worshipers?" Emma looked up from the ground. She had mud on her cheek. "I don't know. Fifty. More on Easter." It could have been a smart-ass answer, but she sounded sincere. "And it's bad because they are getting angry." She jutted her chin up toward the sky. The trees were thick with the large black birds, even more now, and they on branches much lower down now. Closing in. But the investigators had not heard any more arrive. "They really want me to go to the stone. I can't help it. I have to go. I've been there in my dreams a lot lately, since the visitors arrived. I've never been there in person. Please let me go. Pleeeeease." The drawn-out please turned into a harsh "hiss" at the end, and even Emma looked shocked and winced.

[matt_s]

At this, Coupard shrugged and whispers to Malcolm, out of earshot of their captive.

I say we go to the stone no matter what. Let's have her lead us there. She seems fairly out of sorts and hardly in the mood for subterfuge.

Those birds are a real nuisance, aren't they? Drawing nearer, inexorably nearer. Maria, take a potshot at them with the revolver, if you please. I would appreciate a touch of breathing room.

[Sir Lazeabout]

Malcolm grimaces but nods. He needs to see what's at the end of this madness. Nothing else matters anymore.

"Very well," he whispers. "Lead on."

[Butchern]

The moment Maria took the pistol out of her purse, the birds began to stir. Maria didn't hesitate. She turned on her heel, raised the gun, and shot the nearest bird in the lowest branch. Feathers and black goo exploded out of the bird. It fell to the ground and continued to flap its feathers, beating against the dirt as it died. It made no other sounds.

The swarm of birds all began flapping their wings in unison, and they, one by one, took off from their branches. They swarmed the investigators in a sea of blackness and noise, before they flew off into the night sky. The investigators were left shaken and covered with feathers and leaves, but otherwise unharmed.

During the swarm, Emma had jumped to her feet and tried to run off, but Coupard managed to keep his hold on her, and her hands were still tied. When the birds left the area, all the fight went back out of Emma again.

[matt_s]

After a reflexively muttered curse, Coupard nods to Maria. A good shot, and no more birds swirling about their heads. What was asked had been duly done.

He then loosened and removed the last set of bonds on Emma - the girl looked back to being out of it, the gunfire only a temporary jarring of her near catatonic disposition.

The stone - go there, and we will follow. But you will not utter a word of our presence nor make any other disruptive action. Merely lead us to the stone, no more, no less.

Malcolm, let us follow her at a distance. Close so there is no chance of losing her, but far enough to give her a bit of space.

[Butchern]

Emma took off straight for the stone as fast as her bare feet would carry her though the swamp. It was still slow going, however, and the investigators were able to keep up easily. Whenever Emma looked like she was unsure of the way, she would stop, look up to the trees or to the sky, nod her head as if getting instructions, and then press on. The black birds were still about in the trees, almost out of sight, and always out of pistol range.

Emma was a muddy mess, her night gown clinging to her legs and her arms and hands covered in dirt. The investigators were soaked to their knees and just as muddy when they finally came to a stop at the sound of singing. Emma only stopped briefly. She looked over her shoulder at the investigators and then began trudging forward again. Up ahead the investigators could see the light of the farmhouse glinting through the trees.