It was Ernie, of course, standing on Craig’s highest point, winding up for another toss.
The threesome’s second volley hit him all at once, from three sides, high, low, and medium.
“Killed her, cut her up, buried her,” Benny chanted. “Sliced her open and cut her up,” he called.
“SHUT UP!” Davey screamed. He was bleeding from the back of his head, the blood trickling down the knobs of his spine, and he was crying, sobbing.
“KILLED HER, CUT HER UP, SLICED HER OPEN,” Ed-Fred-George chanted in unison.
Alan tightened his grip on the cords wound around the handle of his knife, and his knife hand bled from the puncture wounds left by Davey’s teeth.
Davey saw him coming and dropped to his knees, crying. Sobbing.
“Please,” he said, holding his hands out before him, palms together, begging.
“Please,” he said, as the loop of intestine he’d been holding in trailed free.
“Please,” he said, as Alan seized him by the hair, jerked his head back, and swiftly brought the knife across his throat.