Part 51

There was almost enough room in the box for David to stretch out his legs.

After several minutes of kicking at the side of the box, David realized that "almost" was as bad... if not worse... than being completely doubled over, unable to move at all.

His thighs ached. His lower back burned. His head throbbed, although this was more likely due to being clubbed about the face and neck during his trip from the farmhouse. It was all his father's doing, of course. Every groan or movement brought a knuckled swat. He tried to speak only once: a pained yelp that turned into muffled pleading. The gag swallowed the words; but it didn't matter.

David didn't remember what happened after that. When he woke up, he was still slumped across Oscar's shoulder, and his head hurt much worse than it had before. His father had moved some distance away, and the group was nearing the center of town.

Then came the box.

It was dark and small and smelled of unpleasant things. Oscar had dumped him in and slammed the lid shut without a word.

They were waiting.

David knew from the bits of conversation he'd heard before, and what little filtered through the thick wooden walls of the box, that the town was assembling for a grand ceremony. David tried to pretend that he didn't know what it was... but the Pilgrim had told him.

They were going to kill him. Someone... probably his father... was going to kill him before the night was over, and the whole town was going to watch. And after that...

...David didn't want to think about that, either. Dark spirits and boys without names. Bodies buried on the far side of the Hill. Ghosts.

Yes... there would be an 'after'. And it wouldn't be very nice.

So he cried.

"You'll be with me, soon."

The sobs paused.

David opened his eyes.

A tiny spark gleamed in the corner of the chest, near David's face. It was small, but bright and pulsing with colors that David couldn't name.

"Mm?" David grunted into the gag.

"It's too late. If you don't know my name now, you'll never find out. Neither will I."

"Mmm!"

"Soon you'll be here with us."

"Mmmm!"

"We do terrible things to you here. We all do. It's just him at first. But then he'll make us do things, too. Bad things. Even if we don't want to, he'll make us do them until we do want to... until we're like him inside..."

"Mmm! Mmm!"

"I don't want to do those things. Not to you. But now... now I'll have to..."

Someone kicked the side of the chest.

"All it would have taken was a name. Then I could help you. I could save you. But I can't now..."

The ember began to fade.

"MMMMM!!!!!"

"...not without my name..."

"MM! MMM!"

The lid of the chest flew open. Three men stared down at David.

"WHAT are you moanin' about, boy!" Lowell Vern snarled. He looked ready to strike, but he shot a quick glance to the men on either side of him and changed his mind. "QUIET in there!"

"THEY'RE HERE!!" Someone shouted. David couldn't see who it was; the voice came from a short distance away. "That's everyone!"

The men staring at David all turned toward the newcomer.

"Now?" said Lowell.

"Honor and Tribute!" another unseen voice shouted. All of the voices sounded familiar. David could identify them if he tried... but he was too far gone for that. His mind was full of colors and voices and fear.

"HONOR AND TRIBUTE!" Several voices repeated. "HONOR AND TRIBUTE! HONOR AND TRIBUTE!"

Each time the phrase rose, it was carried by more and more voices, until it sounded like the whole town was shouting.

Lowell Vern looked down at David with an unreadable expression.

"It's time, boy," he said. "Honor and Tribute."