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It was Kelto, his face shredded into meaty ribbons of tortured flesh. His arms were outstretched and draped between them was a shapeless tangle of rotted rags. He stared dumbly into the light. |
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''My God, Kelto," I blurted, "you're alive." |
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"Is that really you, Mr. Wages?" he sobbed. |
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It was then that I realized that his eyes were open, but there was no way for him to see. The blast had burned out his eyes. |
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"I have it," he stammered. "I have it right here in my hands." |
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I staggered through the rubble toward him. |
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"After the first explosion I came out of hiding and ran for the sepulcher. I managed to get it open. I grabbed Sate and held onto him." His tortured voice was almost ecstatic. Then the laughter faded away into agonized sobs. "Now I have himhave him right here in my armsbut now I can't see him. After all this time. I can't see him. Tell me, Mr. Wages, tell mewhat does he look like? What does my tormentor look like?" |
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I shined the beam of my flashlight into the tangle of rotted rags. |
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It was a grotesque and macabre collection of human parts, a pile of rotted, foul-smelling human odds and ends, a putrid assemblage of what the true believers and Emissaries had surgically collected over the |
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