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Page 364
by the increasing crescendo.
Creatures seemed to be emerging from out of nowhere, as if they were multiplying right before my eyes. Two of them, grunting, gesturing, performing some kind of grotesque and macabre dance, were dragging a protesting, kicking form toward the altar. It was young Gregory, his hands manacled, his face reduced to fleshy ribbons of torn tissue. He was pleading for them to stop.
They presented their beleaguered prize to the warlike creature at the altar. The end was swift, perhaps even merciful.
The thing lunged forward, and the barbed lance ripped savagely through the young officer's body. The dirge drowned out the officer's final screaming protest.
As the monster jerked the lance violently out of the lifeless body, the barb disgorged the useless entrails. The creatures were ecstatic.
The hollow beat of the drum continued. Through it all, the mournful dirge intensified.
My stomach had gone down under, trying to hide. Once again I couldn't breathe.
The supplicants were delighted with their barbaric presentation.
"My God, Bert, have you gone mad?" The question sounded stupid and pointless, but my senses were reeling.
Bert Johnson looked at me with glazed

 
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