[Galaxy Of Fear] - 12(23)

As casually as possible, Zak walked through the little village. Galt’s home was just at the edge of the gathered huts, shadowed by gnarltrees. When the Children found food, the hut was converted into a kitchen. Smoke rose from a hole cut into the roof. Pale-skinned Children wandered in and out of the hut, licking their lips and carrying bowls of food.

Zak didn’t want to be seen.

He turned aside and walked out of the village clearing and into the swamp. As soon as he was among the trees, he splashed through a shallow, slimy pool, scrambled over the roots of a thick plant, and found himself in back of the cooking hut.

Zak scrambled up the thick roots of a gnarltree, then shinnied his way out on a branch that hung over the hut. His weight caused the branch to bend, carrying him close to the roof, and he dropped off as gently as possible. The roof, made of gnarlwood branches and leaves, sagged under his weight, but held.

Carefully, Zak inched toward the hole in the roof. Holding his breath and blinking against the smoke that rose out of the hole, Zak peeked over the edge and looked down into the hut.

He was looking down on a pot of bubbling stew, just like the stew Galt had offered him. One of the Children acted as cook, standing over it and stirring and adding things to the mix, as Galt looked on.

“Food,” the cook was crooning. “I’ve never eaten so much in my life.”

“None of us have,” Galt said. “We haven’t eaten this well since the parents died.”

The cook patted her stomach. “I’ve thought of that last meal for years. But this is even better. Our luck has changed.”

“Thanks to the strangers,” said Galt.

“Is the stew ready?” Galt asked. “Check it.”

The cook used a large wooden spoon to scoop out a taste of broth. She held it a few centimeters away from her face, blowing to cool it. As she blew, something swirled around in the spoon. Zak squinted to see it more clearly. Then he felt his stomach heave up into his throat.

Floating in the broth was a human finger.





CHAPTER 15


The finger bobbed up and down as the cook brought the spoon to her lips and sipped the broth.

“Perfect,” said the cook. “This one tastes much better than the first.”

“He was tough,” Galt agreed. “But maybe that’s why they chose him to be the guard that night. He was even hard to kill.”

The cook sighed. “It’s too bad we couldn’t get his head. I think that would have tasted good.”

Zak’s knuckles were white. He clenched his teeth together, trying to keep from throwing up.

He suddenly realized why the Children had started finding food just after their arrival.

The smuggler on guard duty had been killed, and soon the Children had prepared a feast.

The next smuggler had gone down in the spider battle. Then the Children had cooked more food.

Traut had been wounded. His arm had been cut off, and then his leg. Each time, the Children had cooked more food.

The Children were eating people.

Zak tried to remember the first time Galt had offered him food. That had been before the first smuggler’s death. The Children had meat then, didn’t they? But no one had died.

Wrong, Zak remembered. None of the newcomers had died. But one of the Children had been killed by Platt. Zak recalled how Galt had licked his lips, staring at the body.

They had eaten one of their own people.

Zak stared in horrible fascination at the two cannibals. When he felt something wriggling close to his skin, he nearly jumped.

Something bit him on the hip and he cried out in pain. It was the meat flower that he’d put in his pocket. Lying down on the roof had nearly crushed it, and the flower was biting him. Zak struggled to free it from his pocket.

His movements were too much for the roof. It creaked. He heard branches snap a moment before the roof gave in; then he plunged down into the hut. He hit the muddy floor right at Galt’s feet and the impact knocked the wind out of him.

Galt looked down at him, his pale face changing from fear to pleasure as he spoke: “Dinner.”

A few minutes later, Zak found himself locked inside a makeshift cage against one wall of the hut. There were other cages next to his. He couldn’t tell how many-the room was lit only by the cooking fire, and that was on the other side of the hut, casting shadows on his end. Zak grabbed hold of the wooden bars and shook.

Galt laughed. “The cage is made from gnarltree roots. Not strong enough to hold dragonsnakes, but strong enough to hold you. Now I have to make sure your friends are still out looking for the girl. I’ll be back.” Still laughing, Galt left the hut.

Zak moved slowly. If he moved too quickly, the meat flower, still crammed into his pocket, would bite him again. He had tried to pull it out, but it had nipped at his fingers. As long as he didn’t jerk around too much, it didn’t bother him.