“Did you see them?” Bob asked.
Alan nodded.
“Why three?” Alan asked.
“They all came at once. We couldn’t separate off just one,” Bob said.
Down the path of blood, Liz backed through the circle of borax that surrounded the bonfire.
“We have to get ready to close the circle,” Bob said. He handed the box to Alan.
Alan wondered about the creature that had lunged at him—whether it had returned to its brothers. He wanted to ask Liz, but suspected that interrupting her concentration could lead to disaster.
“You ready with the fire?” Alan asked.
“Yes,” Bob said.
Bob moved quickly to the outside of the circle’s perimeter. When Liz reached the far side of the pile of wood—that’s when they were supposed to act. Alan got as close as he dared to the line of borax where the straight path ended and the circle around the bonfire began. He tore the top from the box. There was no need to conserve the powder once he drew this final line. The wind was blowing steadily from east to west. He would have to keep the top of the box very close to the ground to make an unbroken line.
Liz was almost in place.
Bob lit his torch. It was a long stick with an old shirt tied to the end. They’d soaked the shirt in kerosene. It lit fast. The flame sputtered in the wind.
Liz found the other side of the pile of wood and backed up to it. The wind was in their favor. When the fire caught, the flames would blow away from her position. Still, with all the kerosene, she’d have to be careful.
“Go,” Bob said to Alan.
Alan clenched his teeth as he reached the box over the line of borax. It was his job to cut off access to the borax path and complete the circle of powder. This was the only way to contain the migrators. Without this line, they would just flee back down the path when Bob lit the fire. He began to shake the box. The powder blew in the wind. The gusts didn’t seem to disturb the lines on the ground, but between the box and the ground, the wind dispersed Alan’s effort. He reached his whole arm over the line to move the box even closer to the ground.
It was finally working. The powder was completing the circle. When the borax touched the line and extended it, it seemed to lock in. The borax locked in.
“Alan!” Liz yelled.
He looked up to see his wife looking over her shoulder. He didn’t see anything. He kept pouring.
The pain hit his pinky and his elbow at the same time. Every instinct told him to jerk his hand back. He didn’t. He kept pouring the powder out of the box, clenching his hand harder as the pain intensified. The circle was almost closed. Six inches, five inches, four inches.
Alan saw the bones of his own right hand. He saw the skin disappear from the back of his hand where it covered a bulging vein. Blood squirted out into the wind and blew back a fine mist before the vein was sealed by the searing venom of the creature. At his elbow, a tendon sprang from the joint. Alan’s bladder released.
The box fell from his ruined arm.
The circle was closed.
Alan fell backwards, clutching his arm to his chest. The thing tugged at his finger bones as they crossed the line of borax, but it released and Alan fell onto his back.
Bob reached his torch over the circle. Alan watched through the tears flooding down his face. The fire at the end of the stick went out. Bob kept threading the torch towards the fire, careful to keep his hands on the right side of the borax circle. As soon as the rag was sheltered from the wind behind the pile of wood, the flame sprang back to life. It had barely touched the pile when the bonfire lit.
Flames shot up from the pile.
Liz shouted her chants over the popping of the fire.
She moved away from the heat. She kept her pace even and controlled, but her head swiveled back and forth as she looked at the creatures that Alan and Bob couldn’t see. She turned to face the fire and stepped backwards over the line, out of the circle.
“Yes,” Alan whispered. His tears gushed with his relief.
Liz was at his side in an instant.
“Alan. Oh my god, what have we done?” Liz asked.
Bob came to his other side.
Alan squeezed the tears from his eyes and he turned to look back at Joe. His son’s jaw hung down in horror and his hands were pressed against the screen. The boy looked past the adults to the bonfire. Alan turned to follow Joe’s gaze. The flames reached high into the night.
If he unfocused his eyes and let the dancing flames blur, Alan could see what his son saw. There were shadows moving in front of the flames. They were thrown by the migrators, and they were frantic. The migrators were trying to flee the fire, but the circle of borax gave them nowhere to hide. They moved so fast, but when Alan blinked he saw still-frames of their movement. It was the panicked hands-and-feet gallop of a frightened ape. They ran counterclockwise around the fire.
“We have to call this off, Alan,” Liz said. “You need a hospital immediately. I’m going to call for an ambulance.”
She dug in her pocket for her phone.
“That won’t work,” Alan said.
“What?”
“Your phone,” Alan said.
She looked at it and stabbed the face with her finger. Her hand fell to her side when she realized that Alan was right.
“We’ll drive then,” she said.
“No,” Alan said. He rose to his feet. He wrapped his good arm around his bad. One of the blood vessels near his elbow hadn’t been cauterized completely and blood oozed down the front of his jacket. Urine soaked the front of Alan’s pants.
“You’ll lose the hand, Alan,” Liz said. “It’s a hundred times worse than your foot. And your arm! Oh my god.”
Alan looked to Bob. The man was still holding the long torch. His gaze shifted between Alan and the fire.
“How long do we have to wait, Bob?” Alan asked.
“Until they reverse their direction,” Bob said. “The book said it’s too dangerous to go in until they start running clockwise and they slow down. Of course, the book only talked about trapping one at a time.”
“No,” Liz said. “Sophia caught two one time. She didn’t have any problems. And in the passing ceremony, they used as many as would come.”
Bob nodded.
“Alan,” Liz said. “You need help for your hand and arm.”
“We’ve come this far,” Alan said. “It’s working. I don’t want to turn back.”
“Guys,” Bob said. He was pointing.
Alan had to blur his eyes again and let them get lost in the fire to see what Bob referred to. The shadows were moving from right to left now. They were circling the fire clockwise and moving slower. Alan stepped forward before Liz could protest. He took a deep breath and stepped over the line. Alan stumbled. It was like stepping into a fast-moving current. The air was heavy and swirling with the movement of the migrators. As Alan’s head crossed the plane into the circle, he saw them.
The three of them ran on all fours with their faceless heads low to the ground. They circled the fire, weaving between Alan’s legs as they ran past him.
Alan struggled to remember the word. Sophia had written that the word was a command meaning “cure,” but Marie’s entry suggested that the word just meant “come to me.”
He remembered.
“Grush-sh-tep!” Alan shouted.
The things stopped moving.
“Grush-sh-tep,” he said again. Their faceless heads turned towards him. Alan felt a fresh squirt of urine release in his pants. Their attention was nothing less than terrifying.
“What’s happening, Alan?” Liz shouted. He could barely hear her over the crackling of the fire. He realized how hot the flames were.
The things approached and Alan’s fear rose. They had tasted him twice and now they were coming to eat the rest of his flesh. One of the creatures quickly flanked Alan, moving to the space between Alan and the borax line. He was trapped between the three migrators and the hot fire. They slinked forward with their faceless heads turned up to him and their torsos pressed close to the ground.