Mallory sank down on a rock, trying to catch her breath. The night was so dark she couldn’t see a foot in front of her. Wispy tendrils of fog, like bony, white fingers curled around leaning headstones . Far, far below her, the Irish Sea pounded relentlessly against the coast. She had no idea where she was nor in what direction she should search. But, she had to go on. Somewhere out there was a frightened woman and between them was a man determined to have the box Maureen carried.
Pushing herself up from the stone, she paused. What was that sound? Did she hear a voice? Again, it came, a far away wail, like a lost soul, like someone calling for help. Was it Maureen? Mallory shivered. A cold finger of fear traced its way down her back. A horrible thought–was Maureen caught in the bog?
Mallory’s heart pounded in her throat as she turned in a slow circle, wondering which direction to go, trying to see through the gloom. It was hopeless; never had she seen the mist so thick and dark, but panic urged her into the night, searching for Maureen and that high, keening cry. The man, that faceless, nameless pursuer surely heard the same scream she heard and she had to reach Maureen before he did.
Stumbling over uneven ground and brambles that clutched at her legs, Mallory blundered through the fog, slipping on damp heather and sedge grass. The boom of waves against boulders grew louder. Her path led downward. She was nearing the sea.
“Mallory!” It was a whisper, and it was near.
“Maureen?” Mallory breathed.
“Yes, yes,” Maureen answered. “Oh, I prayed that you would find me.”
Mallory wiped away tears of relief. “I was afraid you were caught in the bog.”
Maureen grapsed her hand. “Not the bog, no! Thank Heaven. It’s my foot! It’s wedged under a rock. I can’t get loose. I was afraid to call out, afraid that he would hear.”
Mallory dropped to the ground, tugging at the boulder that held Maureen in its grasp. “I heard you scream. I was afraid he’d hear too.”
Maureen’s voice sounded choked. “I heard it too, but it wasn’t me.”
A heavy footfall brought Mallory’s head up. On the knoll above her and Maureen a dark shape emerged. For a brief instant, the fog shifted and moonlight cut through. A man looked down on them, only a few feet away.
“No use running,” he growled. “I’ve got you now.”
Without warning, a shriek tore through the night. Higher, shriller it rose until Mallory felt her eardrums would split. Was it one voice or a dozen? The desolation of a hundred grieving spirits, the lament of suffering mankind, shattered the fog. Mallory could not breathe nor move. That unearthly cry paralyzed all thought and action. No human throat uttered such a sound. At last, when Mallory thought she would go mad, the scream died into a moan and faded.
The two women looked at each other, speechless. A bone deep chill gripped Mallory. She glanced up at the knoll. It was empty. Their pursuer had vanished.
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