Part 32 (2/2)

”See?” Philip said, nodding. ”It's exactly like I told you. No way was it a dream.”

The three continued to stare until Becka motioned for them to be still. ”Listen.”

They did. There was a scratching, digging sound.

Philip shouted, ”Krissi? Krissi, is that you?” No answer. Only more digging.

Becka pointed. ”It's coming from the trees.” They started through the tall gra.s.s toward the burned trees.

Becka wasn't sure whether her heart was pounding from excitement or fear. She had no time to decide. Immediately they came upon a long strip of burned gra.s.s about five feet wide.

Philip slowed to a stop. They took his cue. ”This is the path the beam of light cut. It started at those trees and ran all the way to my Jeep.”

Ryan stooped to the ground. He picked up a piece of burnt wood and gave a sniff.

The digging sound resumed. It was louder than before and mixed with another sound. Gasping grunts.

”Krissi!” Philip started up the charcoal path toward the trees.

Ryan and Becka followed. A moment later they arrived under the trees and discovered Krissi. She was on her knees, holding a large stick, and digging and drawing in the blackened dirt. With each stroke of the stick she grunted and groaned.

”Krissi ...” Philip dropped to her side, but she did not notice.

She was in another world, too preoccupied to notice anyone or anything. Her clothes were covered in ash, her face smeared with charcoal.

”Krissi ...” Philip grabbed hold of her shoulders. She continued drawing. He shook her. ”Krissi!” Still no response. ”Krissi, listen to me!” The shaking knocked the stick from her grasp, but she did not stop. She dropped onto her hands and began clawing the dirt with her fingers, grunting and groaning like an animal.

”Krissi!” He forced her to look at him. ”Can you hear me?

Can you hear me?!”

She blinked. Once, twice ...

”Krissi!”

Recognition slowly filled her eyes. She looked at the others, her expression lost and confused.

”Are you all right?” Philip asked, his voice husky with concern and fear.

Suddenly, she threw her arms around him, clinging to him for all she was worth. ”Help me,” she gasped. ”Don't let me go again! Don't let me go!”

”It's okay,” he comforted. ”We're here. We're here.” She began sobbing. ”Don't let me go ... Don't let me go ...”

”Shh, it's okay. You're not going anywhere. Shh ...” Rebecca looked on. She wanted desperately to help but knew there was nothing she could do. It wasn't until Ryan touched her arm and pointed toward the drawing in the dirt and ash that her concern gave way to another emotion. The markings were several inches deep. Only now it was clear they were not drawings.

They were words.

WE AWAIT AT CABIN.

Over at Hubert's, Scott stared at the screen as the Crypt Master took roll, typing each of the players' names.

Arzule?

Present.

Wraith?

Here.

The game was about to begin. Scott was more than a little uneasy about being there, especially after talking with Z. But he'd gone to so much work preparing and perfecting his character, he couldn't just quit now. Not until he saw how well the new and improved Ttocs performed.

The roll call continued.

Ashram?

Here.

Scott had decided he would play one more game, that was all.

Just one more. Only this one he'd play as Darryl had suggested: with everything he had, with his heart, his mind, and his soul.

If he lost, fine. He'd walk away knowing he'd given it his best shot.

Quantoz?

Yo.

Drucid?

Here.

If he won, so much the better. He could walk away knowing he had beaten the Master. But to stop after his first defeat ...

well, let's face it, that just wasn't Scott Williams' style.

Phantasm?

Here.

He trusted Z, of course, but what Z had written was still one man's opinion. And it wasn't like there was some specific verse in the Bible that said, ”Thou shall not play Crypts and Wizards.” Shredder?

I'm here.

Ttocs?

<script>