Der Schädelring: Thriller (German Edition)

O'Dell's theory, about a widespread network that offered human sacrifices to a supposed dark master. Those bones were so tiny. The devil liked them young. Or perhaps only the devil's worshippers did.
    Julia stretched so that her mouth was near Walter's ear. "It's a child," she said, her voice breaking.
    "I know," Walter said, tears glistening on his cheeks.
    The pounding at the front door grew louder, and someone shouted into the house. If the Creeps entered the house, they would soon find out she was gone. And presumably they wouldn't think some angelic hand had lifted her up to the clouds. Not while Satan was spinning his dark spells below.
    "What are we going to do?" she asked, squeezing Walter's arm.
    A crashing sound reverberated along the floor. Someone was kicking in the door.
    "My Jeep," Walter said. "It's on the other side of the woods."
    "Do they know you're here?"
    "I don't think so."
    "What do we do now?"
    "Crawl." He wiped at his eyes and moved underneath the floor, Julia close behind, her elbows and knees sore. A splintering sound erupted above them.
    Walter reached the service access, a small wooden door set into the foundation at the rear of the house. Feet pounded across the floor, and shouts rang out overhead. At least three people, maybe more, were in the house.
    "Now!" Walter said, knocking the access door open. "Run for it," he said, pushing Julia through the opening.
    Julia tumbled into the back yard, grateful for the trees, hoping all the Creeps were inside and that no one had been left to guard the rear of the house. If they were going to get her, they'd have to take her down running.
    God, give me flight.
    As she dodged between the branches, leaves falling around her, she felt almost giddy with a new freedom, September on her face, the smell of creek mud in her nose, nothing to lose but a past that she had been trying to lose for years. Leaving behind bones, Creeps, almost everything except fear.
    Yet even the fear was welcome now, because it gave her energy. Life had simplified, reduced now to its basic purpose. Live in order to have more life. Flee so you can make it to the next breath, to the next fleeing, part of the biological cycle that was as old as bacteria. This was God's solo spectator sport, the survival of the fittest or the luckiest. If God cared to grant her strength, she would gratefully accept. All else in the world had failed her, even her father.
    She glanced behind her, saw Walter enter the forest, running toward her. He motioned to the creek that slid silvery and cold down the slope, the water splashing between dark mossy rocks. She almost took off along the creek bank, ignoring Walter and choosing her own random path. But she thought of the tears he had wept under the house. Creeps couldn't cry.
    She leaned against a big oak to wait for him, catching her breath. "Did they see us?" she asked as he dashed up.
    "Shh," he panted, stopping and putting his hands on his sides. Soft forest noises filled the silence, the settling of leaves, the high chatter of a bird.
    "I don't hear anybody." Walter looked into her eyes. Dirty streaks ran down his face where he had cried.
    "Are you going to tell me what this is about?"
    "Later. My Jeep's over that ridge. They're probably already searching for you."
    "How many?"
    He took her hand. "Don't know. Enough. More than enough, knowing them."
    "Who is ‘them’?" Julia asked, but Walter was already tugging her along, leading her to the creek. He helped her across, stepping on slick stones. Julia scrambled up the muddy bank, holding onto a flaking grapevine. Walter nearly lost his balance and fell, but Julia grabbed his shirt and pulled him onto the bank.
    They ran onward, Walter leading the way, Julia holding up her arms to keep the branches from slapping her face. Briars tugged at her clothes, and she stubbed her toe on a root. Once she thought she saw movement out of the corner of her eye and nearly shouted, but she turned her head and saw nothing but more trees, the corridors between them full of still shadows.
    They slowed as they hiked uphill, reaching a clearing on the top of the ridge. Jagged hunks of granite protruded from the edge of the slope. A flat slab of gray rock sat in the middle of the clearing, worn smooth by the elements. Between the trees, Julia could see the mountains rolling away, blue and smoky in the distance. Layers of clouds wended over the ripples of land. Under other circumstances, the setting would have been