Carl’s body trembled as much as the bonds would let him. It was dark, and the sounds of frogs calling for rain battled with the humming and stinging of yellow flies. The pall of night was nearly supreme with the new moon’s depression evident. Only a few twinkling stars managed to peep through the mist that lay upon the Okefenokee Swamp. The stars were brighter than he had ever seen, but there was no time to think about that now.

His captors methodically pushed the boat along with the pole. It was silent, this way. Silence was welcome for such a gruesome ritual as would be performed. At his side, a woman and a child lay equally as bound, gagged, and mortified. Whimpers could scarcely escape.

Nothing was spoken by the captors. This was a moment of reverence. A time to prepare for the task at hand. A chance to cleanse themselves before offering the sacrifices. Silence had crowned the group since they crept out onto the Suwanee just below the swamp’s southern border with the offerings in tow. That had been at least two hours ago, though it seemed far longer to the prey.

When the boat gently slowed and bumped into the peat moss shore, Carl was certain that he had no idea how he could return, even should he escape. He would meander around the stagnant waterways for days. But escape did not seem like much of an option at this moment.

Rough hands grabbed him by the knees and shoulders and hauled him ashore. He could feel the uneasy steps the murderers took while lugging him across the trembling earth. He was finally placed on his knees looking upon a wooden altar. The little girl was placed kneeling beside him. In the faintness of the candlelight, he could see the woman forcefully knelt before the altar. Her whimpering was more audible now, though not because her gag had been removed.

“It is customary to ask our sacrifices,” spoke a voice out of the eerie mist, “If they will forsake their heathen gods and serve the true God Elzenakhim, Lord of Earth and Water, Keeper of the Dead. Woman, will you abandon the foolish doctrines of your fathers and return to serve the true God?”

The figure had stepped out of the mist and into the light. It was a large man, though his face was not visible. A large mask fashioned out of the head of an alligator covered the features; its skin draped part way down his back. His torso was exposed to the night, and upon his chest and stomach strange runes had been scribed. Alligator skin had been fashioned into a crude kilt. His hand clutched a twisted staff, from which were hung strands of alligator teeth and black bear claws, like an evil rosary.

“You answer me not, woman? Will you abandon your false Gods and serve Elzenakhim?”

She shook her head furiously. This upset the masked demon. He bent down to her, chanting low, guttural tones as he traced her jaw with a finger. He straightened up, looking upon her with burning disdain. Then, he brought his staff upon her violently. As he did, the staff changed into a snake. Its bite shocked her as well as the captive onlookers. Just as suddenly, it changed back into a staff as it was raised.

More guttural tones were given, and the two others came to his side. They were also decorated in runes, however they lacked the headdresses. Carl recognized one of them. He was the sheriff. He had hoped that the sheriff had escaped, never realizing that he was part of the treachery. All this time that he had been pressing the sheriff for details on the strange occurrences for the newspaper, he had been led on. They had gone on a stakeout of the activity, since this was the new moon, the time of the traditional disappearances. Two men with guns had sneaked up on them. Helpless, they had begged for mercy. Those pleas had been quickly ended by the blow from a club, which brought on unconsciousness.

The sheriff took a stone dagger from the altar and cut the back of her shirt. He then began to carve a different set of runes into her flesh. The yellow flies and mosquitoes, which were already problematic, became a plague. When he finished, he laid the blood-tipped dagger onto the altar. The other man picked up the scourge from the altar and began his work. Carl closed his eyes, unable to watch as the pieces of bone and teeth and metal ripped flesh from the supple skin on her back, neck, arms, and face. He tried not to count how many times she was lashed, knowing that a similar fate awaited him.

The report from the scourge and its echoes subsided. The frogs and crickets who had ceased to invoke their blessings during the racket commenced their songs again. Their sad, plaintive tones were a fitting requiem. Her body shook in agony, and she whimpered as much as the small child beside Carl. The sheriff and the other villain stood her up, sending searing pain through her maimed body as they touched her. Then, they hoisted her onto the table, and stepped back to await orders.

The masked horror approached her again. He bent over her, and watched the terror in her eyes gleefully.

“Since you will not serve the true God Elzenakhim, we must purify you to prepare you for death, you insolent hag,” he said.

Then, he gave more unintelligible commands. His two henchman approached her at the altar. They cut the rope fastening her hands. She was almost too weak and tormented to fight, and her feeble attempts were easily quashed. Each arm was spread at a diagonal, and tied off to a spike extending from each corner. In like manner were her feet bound. The stone dagger once more left runic marks upon her once lovely flesh.

The masked leader began to lead them in a chant that congealed Carl’s blood. They paced slowly around the altar, repeating the same evil words. Both of the servants tossed what seemed to be dust upon her. The chant intensified, and the staff morphed rapidly between its snake and wooden forms. Blue flames began to rise from the runes engraved into her skin. They danced along her body, not seeming to burn her. Then, as suddenly as the chant ceased, a blue flame erupted from the staff’s head and scorched the victim.

Her bonds were loosened. She would not need them now. Elzenakhim had rid her of her insolence, and her form would never again take life. The sheriff and his accomplice lugged her body over to the water’s edge, where candlelight reflected upon the red eyes of the waiting alligators. The initial splash was followed by many others as they fought over over remains, tearing her apart in large chunks. Those fortunate enough to claim and defend a portion, returned to their wallows, where their meat would sit for a few weeks. When it was sufficiently rotten and tender, they would devour it in shredded gulps. The others waited, for ritual told them that there would be more.

“Carl,” the masked priest began as he approached. “The Sheriff tells me that you have had an interest in our worship. He also tells me that you are atheist. We commend you for not worshipping the heathen gods of those who surround us. Perhaps now you have seen the power of Elzenakhim, and now you know that he is the true God? We would like you to become one of our brothers. Will you accept our invitation into the priesthood of the true God Elzenakhim, Lord of Earth and Water, Keeper of the Dead?”

Carl nodded so violently that he pulled muscles. It was not his intention to die tonight. He would do whatever it took to get out of this swamp. Then, he would bring these murderers to justice. It would be a great story, too.

“We are pleased that you accept our invitation, Carl. Since you are atheist, you will need no scourging as a consequence of idolatry. But you will still need purification. As a warning to you, if you think that you will merely escape and make a mockery of the solemn, ancient priesthood order of Elzenakhim, know this: Traitors will have no altar when they are caught. They are not peacefully taken out of this life. They are maimed and bound.

“Early in the afternoon, they are suspended upside down from that tree limb. Their heads can be easily submerged into the water. As they wait, getting a blood rush, they try not to drown. But it is inevitable. There is only so long that you can raise your head out of the water, especially after the torture that you will first endure. Normally they die long before the gators began feeding at dusk, but not always.

“In any case, the alligators will find you here, and they will rip your head from your body. The rest of your carcass will be thrown into the frenzy afterwards. These creatures will savor your bloody mass, as they take your soul down to the dungeon that Elzenakhim has prepared for those who mock him. This is the penalty of the traitor. Are you certain that you wish to join our ancient order, or shall you be sacrificed to Elzenakhim? We only need two sacrifices each new moon. But He would be pleased with a third in any case.”

Again, Carl nodded fervently. He didn’t put much credence in gods of any sort. Their cruelty and trickery wouldn’t deceive him. He would put an end to this cult.

“Then, brother, we shall seal you His. Then, you will have the power to help in these ordinances, whenever your turn shall come. There are normally only two priests that help the High Priest at any time. But you will be expected at our normal gatherings of brothers.”

With that, the High Priest gave more guttural commands. Carl was taken to the altar and placed on top. When they cut his bonds, he tried to struggle free, but they overpowered him. He was fastened in the same fashion as the first sacrifice.

“Ah, frightened are we, brother? Do not worry, you will not suffer the same fate as she did. You will soon understand,” the High Priest spoke as Carl struggled.

The stone dagger, still red with the previous victim’s life force, sank into his skin. His eyes bulged as the runes were cut into his chest. He tried to remain calm though. It was difficult, when the chanting began. It didn’t sound the same as the last one, but he couldn’t be sure. Still, they were circling him and chanting. The dust cast upon him seared when it hit the open, gushing wounds. Then, he saw the blue light coming from his chest. Doubtless it was now all about to end. So, maybe he believed a little in that mystic power after all. But when the chanting stopped, he was still alive. His hands were cut loose, as were his feet.

“There is much to learn, brother. But each new priest learns with practice, as you will now have.”

Carl stood up, and looked at his chest. It featured the same runes as the others. They seemed almost legible now. Indeed, he was certain that it represented the name of Elzenakhim. He had truly been sealed to him—not that this Elzenakhim existed.

“What practice am I to have?” Carl asked hesitantly.

“You will assist in the purification of this girl, the daughter of the idolatrous hag.”

Carl’s heart stumbled. Surely this was not true. He had forgotten about the girl in the midst of his own troubles. This group was good. They make sure that no new recruits could tattle, since they immediately made them just as guilty as the rest. What would he do?

“But first, you must be dressed in the official robes. It is customary that the new initiates receive their robes from those that introduced them to the order.”

With that the sheriff began to remove the kilt. As he did, Carl noted that he still had on his uniform bottoms and holster. He accepted the robes hesitantly, and began to fasten them on. He noted that this hide kilt was fastened with alligator teeth. It made him strangely wonder what Elzenakhim looked like, though naturally he couldn’t exist.

The little girl was brought before the altar, where she knelt petrified. The other henchman came to assist Carl. He crouched down beside the girl, prepared to show how the runes must be cut. Carl took the dagger from the altar hesitantly, but did as he was told. He stooped over, as if to cut the girl’s shirt, and instead jabbed the dagger into the neck of the henchman. It made a horrid sound as it slit his windpipe and continued around to slice a jugular. Blood spurted everywhere, and the now defunct collapsed against the altar. Several candles fell over from the force of this, and began to burn the rich peat. Carl shifted the knife to his left hand.

Carl reached over and grabbed the whip quickly, still banking on the sheriff and the high priest to be stunned. They were just beginning to recover from the shock, when Carl cracked the scourge on the Sheriff. Shreds of skin went flying, and he switched his target to the high priest. The alligator’s head was sent flying, and the staff fell from his hand. Carl had never seen the man before, as best as he could tell. But the scarred sheriff was beginning to reach for his gun. That precluded any further study of the high priest. He slung the dagger into the stranger’s chest, and the high priest collapsed with a groan.

His first blow sent the barely drawn gun crashing down. Lashing him several times, the sheriff recoiled, hands over head. Repeated blows sent the sheriff to his knees. Carl brought the scourge around another time, half trapping the sheriff’s hands around his head. He kicked the corrupt officer in the head, and panted forcefully as the sheriff collapsed. Carl ran over to the girl, still wielding the whip. She looked at him as if he were crazy. With pity, he grabbed the girl, the knife, and his shirt and ran to the boat with her. He pushed off, eager to leave the scene behind him.

After getting a few feet from shore, Carl put the pole down. He took his shirt and wiped some of the unknown villain’s blood from her tear strewn face. Then, he removed her gag. She immediately began to scream, just like she had wanted to do ages before. Carl cupped his hand over her mouth.

“Quiet, girl. I’m not going to hurt you. We’re going to get out of here. We’re safe now.”

As he said it, a gunshot echoed across the swamp. Carl decided that there were better times to comfort little girls. He let her fall into a sobbing heap and grabbed the pole. He shoved as hard as he could into the night, trying to stay low. That was no easy task, but the series of shots aided him. He looked back to see a maimed sheriff standing on the banks of an island of fire. The light was good, for it helped Carl see. However, it helped the sheriff, too. The last shot sent wood splinters flying as a bullet entered the side of the boat and pierced the bottom.

Carl continued to push until he was sure there were no more shots coming. The sheriff was a distant figure now. His chanting could just be heard where they were at. He was sure that the stench of burning flesh would soon fill the air. The fire would no doubt spread to other parts of the swamp. It was a real shame, but out of fire’s destruction often came new life.

At the moment, Carl had little time to worry with new life. He was too intent on saving his. Water had begun to seep into the boat. He had not gotten this far only to drown. His body ached from the intensity of his recent adrenaline rush. Still, he forced his limbs to move. He took off his shirt and plugged the hole as best as he could.

“Child, what’s your name?” He asked, cutting her bonds.

“Suzie,” she managed between sobs.

“Suzie, I’m Carl. I know you’re real scared right now. I’m scared, too. But I need you to do something for me. Can you hold this shirt right here and make sure that it doesn’t leave this hole, please, Suzie?”

“Yes, sir,” she replied.

“Good, you’re a brave girl. Now we’re going to get out of this all right, okay. Do you know how to sing “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star?”

“Uh huh.”

“Can you sing it for me?”

Carl had Suzie sing several songs as time went by. It helped calm her nerves some. But he was still on edge. He wasn’t going to tell her that he could be going around in circles for all he knew. He wished he had learned to find the North Star, and that he could use it to guide his way out. He wished that the mist would cease and that there was enough light to actually see. He wished that he had learned to swim when he was younger. He wished that the boat wasn’t half full of water. He wished that he weren’t in a swamp filled with hungry alligators. He wished that he had been a doctor instead of a reporter. In short, he wished a million things right then, but no amount of wishing would help his present situation.

His string of wishes was interrupted as they bumped into something firm. Carl, who had been standing to push along with the pole, almost fell over into the water. The water sloshed around inside the boat. Suzie quit singing.

“It’s okay, Suzie. You can keep singing. It’s probably just a cypress knee,” Carl said to reassure her.

“No,” Suzie said, trembling with terror. “Gators.”