The Faith Eaters, Chapter 13: Evolution of a Species

The stars flickered high in a glowing sky that night. Silver moonlight filtered through the trees, bathing the forest floor in quiet shadows and catching shifting motes of dust in the warm evening breeze.

And eighteen men running through the woods approximately one mile outside the pickets of Kinsbourogh North hadn�t yet realized they were running for their lives. A flicker of movement and Reap had been spotted. Yelling, shouting, a relay of rage, and the mob clambered after him, crashing through the underbrush like a rampaging beast.

Reap ran, panting, limping, leaving a clear trail.

Bova and his squad kept pace from an unseen distance, prowling silently through the thicker jungle as they tracked the movement of their package and the men who pursued it. Daggeur, Jerico and Felix flanked a safe distance to the left; Praust, Fabien and Hagel to the right.

Bova, carrying the deadswitch for the package, insisted that he be the only Chasseur moving within the mob�s perimeter. He moved carefully, senses alert, frequently coming within mere yards of one or another of the men, halted, eased himself to the earth and crawled slowly away. He was as much curious as he was concerned.

Reap stayed ahead of the mob, traced a long, winding, tedious trail through the undergrowth, across a stream, then up a long, steep slope and down into a ravine. Always his right leg dragged, and always he left an obvious trail while managing to stay just ahead of the mob.

The mob followed, but grew tired and increasingly disbursed. The leader, a sweaty, bovine man, was the first to fall behind as his breath came in labored gasps. Then others lagged in ones and twos and threes, until the eighteen were no longer a mob, but a scattering of exhausted men fueled only by the vitriol pulsing through their veins.

The youngest and strongest continued to follow Reap�s trail until it disappeared suddenly at the bottom of a steep ravine. The fat man, no longer the leader, was approximately 300 meters behind, well out of site and hearing of the others. He died without anyone noticing, his throat ripped out. And then the mob was seventeen.

Bova keyed his comm. �Steady. Maintain the perimeter. Keep things contained and let�s see what happens.�

Two more men died quickly and silently. Then another three. And a lone man as he attempted to rise after slipping on the moss covered stones of the stream. Reap melted into the mooncast shadows. He no longer limped.

Bova watched Reap move away, then stepped into the stream and knelt beside the body. The man�s heart bobbed lazily in the gurgling stream, still attached to his body by veins leading into his ruptured chest. Bova grimaced. �Keep it tight, but keep your distance,� he told his squad.

Reap advanced in the moonlight, two more men died and the others began to realize something was wrong. They gathered in the ravine, slowly coming together from where each had tramped through the undergrowth trying to pick up Reap�s trail. Silent now, they glowered at one another, turned about, looked nervously into the night shadows.

Reap killed them. Bova observed, his squad arrayed carefully so that each member had a clear line of fire if needed. It ended with Reap standing on one leg, the other extended, toes gripping the throat of one man, claws extended through his wind pipe. Reap gripped another man in his right hand, having punched his claws through flesh and sinew to wrap his fingers tightly around the base of the man�s spine. Blood pulsed from the throat of a third man, through Reap�s teeth and down his neck where it clotted in his fur.

Reap clamped his jaw shut. The man collapsed. Reap chewed slowly. Swallowed. Relaxed the grip of his foot and right hand to drop his remaining two victims. Half a dozen other bodies lay scattered about him, some still twitching but most having been stripped of life before they hit the ground.

Bova stepped into the clearing. Reap turned, saw Bova, crouched, leapt. Bova hit the deadswitch and Reap landed in a pile at his feet.

�Mission accomplished. Hagel, come claim the package and let�s get out of here.�

*****

Inquisitor Guerin crouched in the center of the clearing at the bottom of the ravine.

Corporal Dent glanced nervously at the carnage that littered the ground, then moved to ensure his squad was properly positioned.

Brent Hallow stood motionless, silent, hands shackled behind his back.

Guerin turned one of the bodies over, glanced at the base of its neck and cast a thoughtful glance at Hallow. �Look familiar?�

�Yes.�

�Corporal!� Guerin barked.

�Sir?� Corporal Dent trotted back to the center of the clearing.

�Put your gloves on and help me check the bodies. You know what we�re looking for.�

�Yessir.�

The moon had set by the time the count was completed and the first body was placed on the pyre for destruction. Guerin stood it the darkness, face bathed in the flicker of flame light as the bodies burned.

The count had been off: eighteen bodies -- seventeen parasites.