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By Root 1072 0

a cackling hysterical laugh. The third man materialized from the mist and stood by his side and began to laugh with his companion. Suddenly, they reached down and grabbed Holman by his ankles and started to drag him along the stone floor towards the glow. He tried to kick his legs free, but their grips were firm and his efforts made them laugh even louder. His hands scrabbled for a grip but the old stone was smooth from centuries of wear. As he passed the injured man his body came in contact with the heavy candlestick. He snatched at it desperately and thought he’d lost it when it rolled away from him. Fortunately it was stopped by the prone man’s foot and Holman was able to seize it. He drew it to him and was about to hurl it at one of his assailants when the man he thought he’d put out of action raised himself to his knees with a demented roar, saw Holman, and threw himself at him, his teeth bared to be used as a weapon.

Holman managed to get an elbow under the man’s throat and keep the gnashing teeth away, twisting his own head away at the same time. There were cries of rage from the other two as their progress was halted. They dropped Hol-man’s legs and began to kick at the two struggling bodies, oblivious to friend or foe. One of them grabbed at the first man’s hair and yanked his head back, beating at his face with his other hand.

It gave Holman the chance he needed. He struck at the exposed throat with his heavy weapon and crushed the man’s windpipe, instantly sickened by his own action. But there was only time for momentary regret, for the other two now directed their attention completely towards him again.

He pushed the injured man away and pulled at the ankle of one of the others, bringing the startled man crashing to the floor. The third man caught Holman from behind and put his arms around his neck, squeezing his throat, trying to choke him to death. Because of his higher position, his head was above Holman’s and saliva from his wildly gleaming mouth trickled down on to Holman’s gasping face.

Holman felt as though his head was about to explode. As he weakened, he was conscious of the man’s insane chuckle and as his vision began to swim, he saw the man he’d brought down raise himself on one elbow and lie there laughing at him. Vaguely, almost remotely, he realized he still held the candlestick. With both hands, he brought its wicked point swiftly up to the only vulnerable spot he could reach. The man’s scream and the sudden spurt of blood that gushed down on to Holman’s face added new horror to the nightmare. The pressure on his throat was released and he sucked in the foul air greedily as his attacker fell away from him.

The remaining man was pointing a shaking finger at them, laughing hysterically.

It was too much for Holman. He staggered to his feet and ran from the cathedral.

Once outside, he fell to his knees on the gravel path, but the pounding footsteps behind him made him stumble on again into the thick blanket of fog, thankful for its concealing refuge. He found himself running on grass, regardless of the danger of possible collision with hidden trees or gravestones. His only thought was to get away, away from those madmen, away from the mutation, away from the cathedral. To get away from the fog, to be with normal people again. His mission was forgotten, his instinct for self-survival his only driving force. He did not even feel the sudden gustiness of the wind or see that the swirls had become more vigorous in their movements.

He slipped on the wet grass and as he stumbled forward, desperately trying to keep his balance, he ran into a tree. His head struck it with a loud crack and he slowly crumpled against it, sinking to his knees and then sprawling on to the grass.

As his consciousness slipped away from him, he was aware of a shadowy figure appearing from the mist and standing over him. The deep-throated chuckle was the last sound he heard before he blacked out.

They found the lunatic trying to bury Holman alive. The fog had cleared from the town, swept away by a sudden unpredicted force