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Arkwright ran as fast as he could, but the man was faster and he knew the terrain. Soon they had entered what appeared at first to be a small stretch of tree’s and undergrowth and Arkwright soon had to slow down as the branches whipped at his face. He tried to hold his breath every so often that he might hear where the man was, but the distance between them grew greater until Arkwright stopped altogether and listened intently. In every direction, the tree’s blocked out the moon light.
The man was still ahead of him.
At once, he began running again, his second pistol now in his hand, searching the darkness ahead, cursing.
As he ran, the moon slid from between the clouds and briefly he could see the landscape clearly. The trees spread down into a dell, and across it he saw the man climbing the far side.
“Stop in the name of the King!” he shouted, but the man scrambled further up the far slope and ignored him. Pausing to take aim, Arkwright levelled the pistol carefully and fired.
The flash and the smoke blinded him momentarily, but waving the smoke aside he ran down into the dell.
There was no sign of the man and without waiting he followed the loose earth up the slope. As he reached the top, almost out of breath, the man appeared as if from no where and struck Arkwright across the chest with a heavy stick.
Grunting in pain as the stick broke across his body; Arkwright fell back down the slope. For a moment he saw the man clearly, staring down at him, but then he was gone, and Arkwright crawled painfully after him. He scrambled up to the top of the slope again and stood there in uncertainty. At first he could hear nothing but the blood rushing in his ears but then from some where ahead he heard a single cry in the dark. Stumbling forwards he listened carefully and heard a great crashing in the under growth. The man was coming back towards him!
Arkwright fell to one knee and pulled out the small cut down third pistol he kept under his left shoulder. Carefully he took aim, but as he peered into the dark, a scream of hoarse masculine terror ripped through the night and his scalp crawled with sudden fear. The man was barely thirty yards away and screaming horribly.
Arkwright squinted at the darkness and saw the slighter trees and bushes moving as something thrashed at the undergrowth.
The scream ended in a sudden wet gurgle and abruptly the noises stopped.
Standing alone in the dark, with the wind rustling the trees over head, Arkwright took a few hesitant steps forward.
As if he had seen it himself he knew the man was dead, killed even as Arkwright had stood there in confusion and the killer was still with the body.
He took several quiet steps forward and listened carefully. There was a ripping sound, the moist, wrenching noise of a nightmare and he stopped again as his nerve left him.
Where the hell are the others? He thought. He edged closer to a tree and peered around into a slight clearing.
There was some one on the floor, moving strangely, as though they were having a seizure, and for a second he mistook this for the killer. He stepped out and raised his arm to fire, but as he did, he realised this was the body of the man he had chased and something unseen was moving the dead man around!
With sudden insight, Arkwright realised the killer was standing before him, some how invisible or unseen but standing over the body staring at him.
Without thinking, he fired at the empty air. The short stubby pistol cracked loudly and with a white flash it illuminated the clearing.
Almost at once there was a second smaller flash, blue and showering sparks, and for a brief instant, Arkwright gazed in incomprehension at the being that suddenly stood before him.
It staggered away from him with the force of the gun shot and then as he turned to run, it leaped forward and killed him.