Carl Bluesy, author of “Who They Sacrifice”, has published short fiction in Creepy Pod, The Yard: Crime Blog, Schlock Webzine, among others.
There’s something in my mouth. Ugh, this rag tastes metallic.
Lucy tried to spit the vile-tasting cloth out, but only soaked it with more saliva. I can’t see a thing. I need to get my eyes uncovered.
She tried moving her hands. Her wrists were raw from the rope chafing her skin. A cold sweat covered her. She swayed back and forth on the pole where they had tied her wrists and ankles. Where are they taking me? What will they do to me?
Her last memories were of her, Blake, and Amanda on the tour. Were they also trussed up like chickens? Lucy trembled at the memory of being attacked. What happened? Why did they attack us? The tour guide said the tribe was uncontacted and feared strangers.
It was the dart that knocked me out. Oh, God, my friends. She whimpered as tears ran down her face.
The passing branches scratched her cheeks and ripped through her burgundy tank top and yoga pants. I’m in the forest. I can’t be too far from where they attacked and kidnapped us.
With each thud, Lucy winced. Blood pulsed through her temples.
Her body swung back and forth in rhythm with the men carrying her. The breeze stung the fresh cuts on her exposed skin through her clothes. The pounding of the drums drowned out the chirping of the birds.
With each thud, Lucy winced. Blood pulsed through her temples. The man holding the beam by her feet dropped his end to the ground. The other man forced the pole and her into an upright position. Her toes chilled as they brushed along the cold rock under her.
She willed her ankle to the side and rested her back against the post. This pressure is too much, it’s going to break my bones. The tips of her fingers wrapped around the rope that held her in place. Come on, pull.
Her leg twisted as her waist stuck out. Oh my god, no. I can’t take the pain. Don’t move a muscle. I haven’t broken anything yet. I just need to focus on keeping it that way. The wind blew past Lucy, carrying a sour odor like rotting flesh.
Her body twitched at the touch of a stranger’s hand against her face. She squeezed her eyes closed as the man yanked on the blindfold. Her head jerked forward, and she gave a yelp of pain.
“Stop, stop,” she tried to say. Only a mumbled grunt escaped.
He pulled again. The blindfold stretched but refused to break. The knotted portion dug into the back of her skull. It’s caught in my hair.
With another jerk, the blindfold broke free. Lucy squinted as the light burned her pupils. Blurred figures formed in front of her, slowly coming into focus. Twenty men stood in a half circle watching her. Their eyes stretched wide as they gawked at her. What are these men wearing? Skin from animals?
Lucy found herself in an open patch of field. The pole that held her up dug into the ground directly before the dirt met the stone surface. The rock floor spread out to a cliff wall where two tribesmen were building a fire.
On the ground around the fire pit, spears lay against the stone wall. Paintings covered the wall. The glow from the blaze was weak, yet bright enough to illuminate the paintings. Lucy examined every image on the wall. The story that it told became clear. They intended to do that to me.
It was a sacrificial ceremony for their god. There was a woman with arms stretched high above her head. The pictures showed her being placed over the flames and cooked alive.
The man who stood closest to Lucy held the blind fold in his hand. He directed the men who carried her to join the rest of the tribesmen. Once they joined the group, leaving one man to Lucy’s view encircled with her. He yelled out, and the group echoed him. They repeated this several times. The man leading the chant fell silent. He approached Lucy with a spear head.
The tribesmen had identical markings painted on their bodies. The paint formed a line that stared at their chin. It split at their chest. Two lines stretched to either side, circling the nipples as the third line continued downward, wrapping around their belly buttons.
The part that disturbed Lucy the most was the dark tinge of the paint. It dripped down their chests, still wet, ruining the straightness of the body paint.
The leader presented the spearhead and pressed it into Lucy’s side. Oh, no, please don’t. He pulled the spear past her top. It sounded like a zipper as he pulled it down her side. The tip of his weapon pushed into her skin, setting her sides ablaze as they cut into her. The rag that gagged her mouth muffled her screams. She thrust her body as her tank top fell to the ground.
She twisted her neck to look down, fearing what she would see. A thin red cut broke the skin and nothing more. The tribesman wiped his fingers across the red paint on his chest, scraping off enough to cover two fingers. Its thick texture dried on her face as he continued to rub it past her chin to her bare breast.
Her stomach writhed at his touch, the acid of her half-digested lunch filling her mouth and making her choke. The pork she ate before the tour reappeared on her tongue. Lucy turned away from him. Each squeeze to her breast forced a tear out of the corner of her eye.
He continued past her abdomen, circling the belly button. Through her terror, Lucy saw that the path his fingers painted on her body matched his and the other savages. Her eyes stretched wide. She shuddered at the thought of what would happen next.
Blake, Amanda, where are they? Are they still alive?
She clenched her mouth shut. His knuckles pushed against her jaw, meeting her eyes. “Thula ingya,” he snarled and removed the rag that gagged her.
What? What does he want from me? Oh, Blake, I need you.
Tribesmen placed wood in a large fire pit where the rock surface met a stone wall to Lucy’s left.
He slapped Lucy’s face. He grabbed her chin with his thumb and finger and forced her to look at him instead of the pit. The scratch marks on her cheeks ignited like fire as his calloused palm met her skin.
“Thula ingya,” he yelled.
“Blake, where are you?” she screamed.
The tribesmen’s eyes widened as the man lifted his hand. His second slap was harder than the first. The face that smiled as he groped her breast scowled as he spoke again. “Uthixo wetu uya kuniqwenja,” he said.
“What do you want?” Lucy cried.
“Thula umfathinzini,” he repeated, giving her the hardest hit yet.
Tears flew out as his calloused palm made contact. Her face trembled as she tried to stop herself from crying more. The salt in her tears burned her many cuts.
“I don’t understand what you’re saying!”
“Thula umfathinzini!”
Sweat covered Lucy’s forehead, burning her cut and swollen face. The cruel eyes waited for her to act. Don’t move. Whatever he does, stay still.
A cheer roared as the fire ignited. He turned to the crowd and spoke, his voice growling. Lucy took a deep breath.
She raised her head, pressing back against the inside of her elbow. I can reach the rope. It’s only a foot away. It is just like doing a pull up, only I’m lifting with my bound wrist instead of my hands.
She pulled with all her might in an attempt to lift her face to her wrist, where the rope bound her to the beam. The slack forced her bent knees to straighten as she rose, pressing her legs flat against the beam. Lucy tried to bite into the rope. No matter what angle she turned her head, she could not grip the rope.
Soon her arms gave way, and she slid back down the pole. She repeated this action a few times, but she wasn’t able to hold herself up for long. After the fourth attempt, she was no longer able to pull herself up. I can’t. I’m not strong enough.
The tribe moved their attention in Lucy’s direction. She lowered her head away from her restraints. Her heart was booming inside her chest. Her upper back spasmed, her shoulder blades feeling like they were being pried up with a hot knife.
What are they watching?
Something behind her grabbed the crowd’s attention. A man’s voice rang out, followed by the pounding of feet on dirt. She caught sight of the man interrupting the ceremony when he shot past her. His bare feet tickled the rock floor, bringing him to a stop, cowering in front of the leader who had slapped her.
He had the same markings painted across his body. Except where the tribal leaders’ paint was bloody red, the newcomers had been pure white.
The white painted tribe member stuttered his words as he addressed the man who had painted Lucy. His face hung low, focusing on the leader’s body paint rather than on his expression. The leader glared at the new man. He formed a fist as he turned. He was ready to attack.
The chief slapped the newcomer’s face. Lucy winced. Her irritated cheek burned with the memory of his hand.
The man reeled back. The leader towered over him and pointed in the direction the white painted man had entered. His voice filled with rage, Lucy’s body tensed with every word. She could only guess what they meant.
With a war cry, the tribal men took off running. As they charged past Lucy, the tips of their spears cut into her. She flinched and whimpered with each weapon that touched her.
Her head hung low. The crackle of the fire was all she could hear over her sobs.
Lucy spat on the rocky surface, leaving a red mark in between her feet.
Fuck, I’m pathetic. I always thought others would protect me. I should have taken a self-defense class or something.
She lifted her head to examine her arms next. She gasped, ignoring the fresh cuts and focused on the rope that tied her wrist. Frayed stands of string stuck out in all directions. One strand hung low enough for her to grip onto with her teeth.
She could make headway by chewing away the rope. If I lose my teeth from pulling too hard, so be it. I’d break every tooth to free myself.
Lucy buried her face in the rope, tearing at it with every ounce of strength she had left. The string slid between her teeth as she pulled, cutting her gums. Her mouth filled with blood, forcing her to spit to the side. Most landed on her shoulders or legs. Making a full turn to spit elsewhere took too much time.
A branch broke in the tree line where the crowd had gathered. Lucy flinched, turning her attention to whatever made the noise. She tried to pace her breathing. Five seconds in, five seconds out. Just as her yoga instructor taught her.
Blood and drool covered her mouth. A twig snapped. Lucy searched the area only to confirm she was the only one there. Where are you? Who are you? Were they smart enough to leave security behind? Or are you a bird searching for sticks to build a nest for your babies?
“Lucy, oh my god.”
Her heart skipped a beat with the unforgettable voice. Lucy’s eyes filled with tears as Blake emerged from the tree line covered in dirt from head to toe. White paint ran from his forehead to his belly button, circling both nipples. His blue jeans ripped in many new spots, exposing the severe rope burn on his ankles, which matched his wrists.
He checked both directions before exiting the wooded area and rushed to where Lucy hung.
“I can’t believe I found you. Are you ok?”
The tears in Lucy’s eyes spilled down her cheeks and mixed with the half-dried blood and spit on her face. Her body shook, trying to speak. “I’m, I, I’m—”
He wiped Lucy’s tears with his thumb, squeezing her shoulder with his other hand.
“Hey, I’m here now. I slipped away from the kidnappers. At least you’re alive. I’ll cut you down from there.”
Blake raised a spear head and sawed through the rope that tied her wrist. He worked on the cut marks left by the tribal men.
With a snap, the rope broke free. The air was chilly on her wrist as they separated, and she flopped forward.
“Shit,” said Blake as he tried to catch her.
He lost balance, and the two fell backwards, crashing onto the rock surface.
Lucy’s vision was spinning after she hit her face on the hard, rocky ground. The numbness of the impact slowly faded, allowing the pain of the day had brought her to return.
Blake got to his feet and cut the rope that bound her ankles to the beam. The moment she was free, he gripped onto her wrists and yanked her to her up.
“Let go, you’re hurting me,” said Lucy, with both feet planted on the ground, pulling against him.
“Oh, sorry.” He released his grip. “We need to hurry.”
“Do you know how to escape so they won’t be able to track us?” Lucy asked.
“No, but we have to move. Hey, where are you going?”
She ran over toward the rock wall close to the fire.
“What are you doing?” Blake asked. “We can’t stay here. They’ll be back any minute. Who knows what they will do if they find us?”
“I saw weapons over here before. They couldn’t have taken them all. I want something to protect myself with.”
Lucy circled the fire pit in search of anything that could offer her protection. With nothing but embers left on the ground, she worked her way to the rock wall.
The horrific images of what could have been her hypnotized Lucy. Her focus remanded on the paintings until Blake grabbed Lucy’s hands and squeezed hard on her fragile fingers. “Lucy.”
She turned and spotted a tribesman with his head shaved smooth and gripped a spear. Mud covered his feet, leaving a trail behind him. He shouted at the top of his lungs. Neither Lucy nor Blake had to guess who he was calling to.
Blake grasped his spearhead as the bald tribesman held a spear with a long handle. The tribal man stuck his spear out to keep a distance between himself and Blake. Lucy pressed herself against the wall. She shuffled along the side of the rock wall to prevent the flame from blocking her view of the fight.
The bald man swung his weapon at Blake. He missed by only an inch. Blake grabbed the shaft, preventing the man from pulling the spear back. Locked in a game of tug of war, they flew around the fire. Embers crackled, burning their heels as they fought over the weapon.
You got this. You escaped the entire tribe before you found me. I know you can beat one more. Kill him. Do it before the others return.
They shifted closer to the blaze. Blake dropped his spearhead as he struggled for control over the spear. He pulled, and the man pushed him a foot nearer to the fire. His frail body suggested he never knew a full stomach.
Yes, you got him. You’re twice his size. He doesn’t stand a chance. You said that going to the gym is healthier than doing yoga. I never suspected it to be such a literal lifesaver.
Blake took leverage over the man and pushed him towards the fire. The tribesman struggled to keep his balance with his back over the flames. His knees bent as the flame rose high enough to touch his skin. The influence of the flame on his flesh was more than he could bear. He no longer pulled to win the fight, but to bring himself out of the fire before it seared him. Kill him, Blake. Come on, end this. One final push is all he needs.
Flakes of singed skin from his back fell into the fire as he screamed in agony. She covered her mouth and noticed she was smiling. Burn you bastard. Die for what you were planning on doing to me. I hope it hurts when you become the sacrifice for your so-called god.
Blake tightened his grip and prepared to give the final push. The bald man let the spear go. He fell beside the pit, Blake stumbled forward towards the flame. His eyes were wide, and his hand stuck out in front of him. There was nothing he could have done to prevent himself from falling in headfirst. Embers exploded from the pit, covering the ground around the fire.
What? No!
Lucy ran to the pit. Blake’s screams replaced the tribesman. He reached out of the flames towards her. Within seconds of landing in the fire, his hair had burned off. It left nothing but the flame on his bald scalp. His face swelled up, his skin on the verge of boiling. Lucy pulled on his hand with all her might.
“Don’t let go. I’ve got you!”
His eyes jerked open, no longer shielding them from the flames. The tribesman stuck the spear into Blake’s back. His focus faded from the fire that burned the meat off his bones. His head dropped away from Lucy as life drained from his body.
No, no, not like this.
Lucy’s body shook as she let go of Blake. She fell to the ground as the fire consumed him. The smoke turned black above her. It rose high above the treeline, covering the sun. Lucy buried her face in her palms. Something isn’t right. My hands feel odd. What is this? What’s on them? Another layer of skin? Skin from…
Lucy’s hands shook as she tried to peel Blake’s skin off. Snot ran from her nose, attempting to wipe it away led to her spreading it across her face. A shadow loomed over Lucy, a figure she knew was around the corner. She looked at the tribesman. His smile made Lucy’s pale skin turn red with fury. She screamed as she got to her feet. It replaced the pain of her flesh with the loss of Blake. Her body shook and turned raw.
Do you think you can hurt me after what you’ve already done to me? I dare you to make my suffering any worse. I will ensure we both end up in the fire pit. You’ll be happy to join your precious god as we cook away.
When Lucy tried to stand up, the man grabbed her by her shoulders. She dug her nails into his side and flung herself towards the flame. He pulled toward her, causing them to land by the fire rather than in it. Come on, you fucker, you’re not getting off the hook that easily.
She kicked him in the face, then darted around the flame to dodge him. The embers that flew from the fire pit burned her knees and stuck to the blood on her chaffed ankles.
Her hand touched something hard. It was the spearhead Blake had used to free her. The bald man flung himself on top of Lucy. I don’t think so, not when I’m the one with the weapon.
He grabbed Lucy by the hair and smashed her head on the ground. She lost her grip on the spearhead. It slipped from her hand and slid beside the fire pit.
When he stopped, Lucy lay twitching underneath him. Too weak to fight him when he flipped her over. He pushed her hands above her head and positioned himself over the top of her. Lucy’s head turned as the land spun in circles. Her vision blurred and soul numbed, she rested in her defeat as the man lowered her yoga pants.
Lucy’s skin crawled at the man’s touch as he grabbed her waistband. The air chilled her exposed skin. Soft cries escaped her lips as her head shook.
He worked on removing his loincloth. Before he uncovered himself, the tribe leader had slapped him the same as he had her during their ceremony. She curled into a ball, wrapping her arms around her legs and pulling them to her chest.
I’ll be with you soon, Blake. We can burn together. Our souls will be together forever.
The leader picked the man off the ground by his neck, dragging him to the wall. He flung the man against the paintings. He grunted as his body slapped against the hard surface. The man stumbled, struggling to stay on his feet. He slammed his hand on the painted wall after yelling at the man. A crowd of tribe men gathered around to watch the leader’s new show.
The leader pointed at the drawings of the restrained women, their god, then at Lucy. I’m not for them to defile. I’m to remain clean. If I was to be untouched, their chief should not have groped my body or struck my face. It’s the same no matter where you go. Those in charge get the extra perks.
Lucy turned her face toward the ground. She focused on what lie around her. She examined each burning ember and the shape of each rock near her. The whimpers of the man who tried to defile her grew with each blow he received from his chief. How could this small man kill someone? Whatever his leader does to him is less than he deserves.
The chief’s shadow covered Lucy, his eyes glared at her like she was a disobedient dog. She turned from him, grabbing the stones and embers. Her fingers twitched, and the embers burned her palm. She pushed through the pain and tossed the red-hot ashes at the leader. They bounced off his bare thighs and landed by his feet.
Unfazed by Lucy’s attempt to harm him, the leader grabbed Lucy. He lifted her up to his chest, holding her by the back of her neck.
This is it. You’ve got one shot.
The leader’s jaw dropped as his attention turned to the sky. The tribesman had the same reaction. Black smoke from the fire altered its shape. In two seconds, the path flowing outwards from the main body created arms complete with claws and hands. Near the top, the smoke separated, creating eyes and a mouth that opened and closed.
It appeared to move of its own free will. It examined the fire pit from which it emerged. The eyes flashed red as it opened its mouth. The smell of sulfur blew off the demon as it breathed. Its slow movements became more fluent as it adjusted to its new form.
Its claw reached into the pit and picked Blake up with ease. He was no longer recognizable. The flames had melted away several layers of skin and continued to burn. The smoke god held Blake in front of his face, looking at his corpse. Its roar was louder than anything Lucy had heard before.
The insides of her head shook, and pressure pushed on her skull. Men ran in every direction as Lucy stared up at the demon, examining Blake. Her muscles were too stiff to run. Her jaw dropped as she wondered what it would do with Blake.
The god ripped Blake in half at the waist, it threw his legs at the crowd. They hit two men and knocked them to the ground. Once hit, they lay motionless. The others fled the ceremony area. The leader called out to his god, holding Lucy above his head with one hand.
Lucy plunged the spearhead into the leader’s neck with all her might. The spearhead sunk in, leaving the last inch protruding from his neck. He dropped Lucy and crashed to the rocky surface beside the fire. The chief held his wound as he gagged and spat out blood. She got to her feet and faced the leader.
“Serves you right. It’s your turn to be sacrificed to your precious god.”
Tears filling her eyes before her entire body tensed as she screamed at him, the effort shredded her throat.
Lucy pushed the leader, sending him into the fire. The smoke god roared as the leader’s body ignited in the pit. She took off running where the trees split, creating a small path. Gravel dug into her bare feet. It would have slowed her pace on any other day. But not this day. She ran faster than ever as limbs belonging to Blake and the leader rained down around her.
She saw an upright post on the path. There was a woman tied to it. Unlike Lucy, the girl had failed to escape and remained gagged and blindfolded as her ties held her upright.
No, it can’t be. Is that who I think it is? Amanda? My god, I’ve given up hope she survived. Why hadn’t they sacrificed her yet?
Lucy stopped, looking at her friend. Her wrists and ankles were red around the knots. They ripped her top and pants in several spots. Amanda’s entire body trembled as tears soaked her blindfold and ran down her cheeks. Muffled sobs escaped the gag rammed into her mouth. Lucy reached for the rag that blocked Amanda’s mouth.
“Please, help. Why did you take me?” Amanda said, her voice trembling as she spoke.
The cries of the fleeing tribesmen surrounded them. Another chunk of Blake struck the ground, narrowly missing Amanda as it flew past. It was his head. It rolled around before it came to a stop. His face pointed in Lucy’s direction.
His pupils were fire red, his green iris sunk in to create a hole. The green pooled on his eyelids as white spilled, overflowing to the edge of his face. It dripped off his cheek at a slow, rhythmic pace.
Look at what has become of you. All because you stopped to help me. If you left me behind, you could have saved yourself. That’s what good deeds get you. I won’t make the same mistake. I can’t. What’s the point in getting us both killed? I’m strong enough to do what it takes.
She placed the gag back into Amanda’s mouth. She twisted her head, fighting against Lucy from gagging her. I’m sorry, but I can’t stop what’s about to happen to you. It’s best if this stays in there. I will always miss you.
Lucy ran down the path. The tribe’s cries grew faint. Body parts stopped raining down. She escaped the forest, but not Amanda’s gagged cries.
She escaped the clutches of the tribe and their god, but Lucy’s newfound freedom forever changed her. Whenever a man made her feel weak or like she needed someone to protect her, she thought about how Amanda couldn’t save herself. Lucy would smile, knowing despite what anyone said, she could protect herself, no matter what.
*****
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