The Word of God (6 page)

“Is he badly hurt?”

Stephen shrugged. “Can't tell. Broken leg for sure, and probably concussion at least.”

With an effort of willpower Peter bent and felt the man's pulse. It was weak and thready and his skin was clammy to the touch. “He needs proper medical attention urgently I reckon,” he said. Trembling with emotion he straightened up and looked around for the easiest way to get the man up onto the track. The mountainside in both directions looked even steeper than where he had come down. Not far below them was an outcrop and after that a long drop.

Graham pointed up. “Back the way we came,” he said. “I checked both ways. They are too steep.”

“We need a stretcher,” Peter said.

Graham shook his head: “No chance of moving him that way. We'd never do it. Not without more people and time.”

Stephen moved closer and clung to a sapling. “We'd better do something. It is getting dark fast,” he added.

At that moment Gwen's voice floated down from above. “Hello you boys! Do want a hand? Is everything alright?”

“Yes. We are coming back up now,” Peter yelled, twisting his head to look up. He was afraid that Gwen would see the skeleton but he could not see her.

Graham acted. “We mustn't let the girls see this,” he said. Before Peter realized what he was going to do Graham had bent down and grabbed the injured Devil Worshipper by the collar and hauled him up from among the trees and rocks.

“Careful Graham! You could cause further injuries,” Peter cried.

“Tough!” Graham snorted. “We should just toss the murdering bastard over the cliff the same way as he dealt with these poor buggers.”

Ignoring Peter's objections Graham started dragging the injured man up the slope by brute force. Stephen moved to help. Seeing no other option, and acutely aware that the last of the sun was slipping below the mountains, Peter also took hold.

It was hard work and took them ten sweating, swearing minutes to drag the man to the top of the rock. By then all had scratched themselves and torn their clothes. Luckily the injured man remained unconscious. He moaned a couple of times and twitched occasionally but was otherwise limp.

Gwen and Joy helped to drag the man onto the rock.

Joy knelt to look the Devil Worshipper over. “Is he badly hurt?” she asked.

Peter nodded. “Think so,” he replied.

Gwen leaned down to feel the man's pulse and to check his breathing. As she did she frowned and stared at him. “I think I've seen him somewhere.”

“You have,” Stephen replied. “His name is Jacob Rudd. He was in Year 12 when we were in Year 9.”

Joy looked up amazed. “Do you know him?” she cried.

Stephen nodded but did not reply. Peter realized he had also seen the man years before. He said: “Yes. Never mind who he is. He needs a doctor fast. Let's see if we can make a stretcher.”

Gwen bit her lip. “I wish the police would hurry up,” she commented.

Peter nodded. It was something he had been worrying about. He had expected a police helicopter to arrive well before this. It was now nearly four hours since they had left the bottom of the mountain. “Yes, they should be here by now.”

Joy voiced his fears. “I hope nothing went wrong at the bottom.”

“What could have gone wrong?” Stephen sneered. “All they had to do was go to the nearest farm and ring the cops!”

“Don't know,” Peter replied. “Never mind. Look for saplings we can use for a stretcher.”

Graham shook his head. “Waste of time,” he said. “All we will find are these green saplings. Anyway it will take eight people to carry it down the slope.”

“We can try,” Gwen said.

Graham gave another shake of the head. “Don't forget we have to help these prisoners too,” he went on. “They look pretty shaky to me. I can't see them being much use carrying a stretcher for hours down a mountainside.”

Stephen nudged the injured Devil Worshipper with his boot. “They
probably won't be all that keen to lug this bastard anyway,” he offered. “He was going to slit their throats remember.”

Gwen looked upset. “It doesn't matter. We have to try,” she snapped.

Graham stood up. “No. We can't do it. We can get these people to safety. I think we should leave this bloke here and get the others down the mountain first.”

Megan, still acting as sentry atop the nearby rock, looked horrified. “But he might die!” she cried.

Graham shrugged. “He was going to kill them. Seems only fair.”

Peter bit his lip. What to do? It was a terrible dilemma.

Megan made the next suggestion. “What if a couple of us stayed here with the injured man while the rest help these others down the mountain? A rescue helicopter can then pick us all up.”

“Are you volunteering to stay?” Peter asked.

“Yes.”

Gwen nodded: “I will stay too.”

Graham shook his head and said in tones that brooked no argument: “No you won't! Don't forget that there were five of these murderous mongrels and they may still be lurking around here even now. You are not staying. Nobody is. We are all going down together, and that means now, while it is still light.”

Peter had forgotten the other Devil Worshippers. Now the terrible threat by their leader came back to him: ‘You have interrupted a sacrifice to Satan. You must pay for that. You will now die horribly.'

Peter had no doubt that the man had meant what he said. The bones below the rock were testimony to that! He said: “Graham is right. We are going to move. I will carry this bloke piggy back. Joy, collect those bags. You others help these people to their feet.”

Once again Graham objected. “I am strongest. I will carry him. You take out that pistol Pete and go scout, just in case our spooky mates are lurking along the track.”

Gwen objected: “Wait! We must splint that broken leg first.”

Graham muttered but Gwen set to work, helped by Stephen, to tie the injured Devil Worshipper's broken leg to his good one, with a stick added for good measure.

While they did that Peter checked that the three former prisoners were dressed and ready to go. The two knights had dressed in their own clothes-torn and soiled business suits and leather shoes.

Sir Miles assured him they were able to make the distance. “We will also help carry that man,” he added.

“Thanks. Now, Joy, did you find any food or water?”

“Both,” Joy replied. She held out two water bottles and a packet of sandwiches. Peter passed the water bottles to the rescued prisoners. Sir Miles controlled their drinking, then returned the water bottles to Peter for the cadets to share. They got a good mouthful each. It tasted very good, but Peter knew it was not enough, that they would probably be in trouble from dehydration soon.

“Anything else in those bags Joy?” he asked, as Gwen finished her bandaging.

“Only these papers. They appear to be some sort of messages. They look like decoded secret signals to me.”

Peter's curiosity was aroused and he took the notebook from her and scanned it. Joy was right. It was a decoded message. The original had been in some sort of Trigram code, where three letters meant a letter, number or word. He was familiar with the idea from the Command Post exercises they did every year at cadets.

“You are right. Coded messages. These ones have been decoded,” he commented.

“What do they say?” Graham asked.

Peter studied the handwritten messages for a moment, troubled more by the author's poor handwriting than by the cyphering. He read: “The first one says: From Six Five to Six Six; Have captured two Knights of the Holy Grail. Sir Richard De Burg and Sir Miles Falworth and agent Adrian Jones. Now at RV TANGENT with group. Request orders.”

He turned the page of the notebook. “The second one is a reply, from Six Six to Six Five. It reads: Take prisoners to the top of Walshs Pyramid. Question and torture them then execute according to our rites. Six Five Three to kill.”

It was obvious that the others were aghast at the cold-blooded implications of the message. Peter shook his head in appalled disbelief and turned the page.

“This one hasn't been completely decoded,” he observed.

“That was probably what he was doing when we were sprung,” Stephen offered. “I saw one of them drop the notebook as they ran for it.”

Peter nodded and read: “This is from Six Six and is a ‘Flash' message. It starts: Delay executions. Do not kill prisoners. Special Agent; then it is unfinished. The rest is just trigrams.”

“Six Six must be their boss,” Joy suggested.

Peter again nodded. “Did you find a codebook among their gear? I'd like to finish decoding this.”

Joy shook her head. “No we didn't,” she replied.

Gwen finished her first aid and stood up. “OK, that's as good as I can manage.”

Graham stepped forward. “Good, now help lift him onto my back,” he ordered. Without waiting to see if he was obeyed he crouched and hauled the unconscious man upright. Stephen helped lift him onto Graham's back and passed him his staff. Graham stood up with a grunt, adjusted his balance, the man sitting awkwardly astride his basic webbing. As soon as he had him gripped firmly Graham started walking.

Joy moved back to where she had placed the packs in a row. “What will we do with these?” she called.

“Leave the packs and clothes. Just bring the papers,” Peter instructed. He tucked the notebook into his pocket and had a final look around. Satisfied that the others were moving he picked up his own staff, took out the pistol and followed Graham.

Having the loaded gun in his hand made Peter feel very apprehensive. The weapon was so real and so potentially deadly that he was reluctant to even think about using it. Fear helped. The skeletons behind and the thought of Devil Worshippers lurking ahead concentrated his emotions powerfully.

By moving fast Peter caught up with Graham within two minutes. By then Graham was trying to climb down the first steep pinch without losing his balance. It was so steep and the injured man so heavy and unbalanced that he soon slipped and fell. He swore and struggled to his feet. The injured Devil Worshipper let out a loud groan and shuddered.

Peter bit his lip. “Be careful Graham. We don't want to hurt him any more,” he said.

Graham slithered down a few paces, then stumbled again. He swore and lowered the man onto the bushes beside the track. “This is hopeless Pete. I'm the strongest of us and I'm buggered already. We will never make it down the mountain with this bloke. We will have to leave him here.”

Peter shook his head. “I will try for a while. Here, you take this gun. It's loaded and cocked- at ‘Action'. Safety is on.”

Butt first he passed the pistol to Graham. The others had caught them up by this and Stephen helped lift the man onto Peter's back. Within seconds he knew that Graham was right. The man was very heavy and his weight immediately dragged down on his shoulder muscles. Within ten paces he was sweating and puffing from the effort. Worse the broken leg stuck out and kept snagging in the trees and bushes beside the narrow track.

It took five minutes to go down fifty metres. By then the sun was gone completely and they were walking in twilight. Their direction of movement was
north so the red glow of the sunset showed the mountains out to their left very clearly. Far below tiny lights began to twinkle at farms in the Mulgrave valley.

A tree root tripped Peter at the top of the next steep section. He went sprawling, the bushes scratching his face and hands. The injured Devil Worshipper fell heavily onto some rocks and let out a cry of pain.

Trembling from the effort Peter stood up, his chest heaving. Reluctantly he faced Graham. “You are right mate. We will never carry him down. We must leave him and go for help.”

Gwen heard this and shook her head. “Oh we can't!” she cried.

Peter pressed his lips into a thin line then said: “Sorry. We must. And noone is staying here. A helicopter is the safe way to move him.”

There were a few minutes of tense disagreement before Gwen and Megan accepted the inevitable. Peter and Graham made the injured man as comfortable as they could, lying him right in the track where he could easily be found.

Feeling sick at heart Peter motioned Graham to lead on. Graham turned and headed down the mountain.

That part of the track was so steep they had to proceed using hands as well as feet. Peter was relieved that they were moving faster but felt sick at heart over leaving the injured man.

If the broken bone has cut a blood vessel he could be bleeding to death internally; and if it gets cold during the night he could die,
he thought.

At that moment the radio Stephen was carrying crackled to life. The sound was so unexpected that Peter jumped with fright.

Stephen hastily fished the radio out. “The radio! What will I do?” he asked.

“Who is it? Are they calling us?” Peter asked.

Stephen shook his head. “No. Not our call sign. It is Six Five calling Six Six,” he replied.

An idea flitted through Peter's mind and he acted on it at once. “Call it out so I can write it down,” he instructed.

As quickly as he could he pulled out his own notebook, and, despite objections from Megan that they should keep moving, he sat and waited, pencil in hand.

Stephen listened, then began to speak: “Six Five to Six Six. Delta Zulu Charlie, Delta Romeo Delta, Delta Zulu Echo, Delta Yankee Kilo, Delta X-ray November, Delta Whisky Delta, Delta Whisky Alpha, Delta Zulu Alpha, Delta Zulu Hotel, Delta Zulu Charlie, Delta Zulu India, Delta X-ray X-ray, Delta Yankee Golf, Delta X-ray Quebec, Delta Yankee X-ray, Delta X-ray Hotel, Delta Alpha Yankee, Delta X-ray Lima, Delta Whisky Delta, Delta Whisky Alpha, Delta Zulu Foxtrot, Delta Charlie Foxtrot, message ends.”

Joy frowned. “What does it mean?” she asked.

Peter shrugged. “Can't tell until I see the other parts of the code.”