They stationed themselves quite close to the shore while remaining under the protection of the forest.
The mist hides the scene from them, but the screams and the screeching iron are enough to imagine the confrontation before them.
They stand, pressed against each other, grouped together like frightened cattle. Each of them has a pre-decided position.
The two girls Charismatic and Pony flank the injured man. He is now in a better state, and can at least walk a bit by himself.
The old man and Potatoes are behind the two girls, Follower and her new companion are in front and at the head of the group is Dust and Suspiscious who guided them here.
As much as the boy tried to squint, he couldn't see beyond the white smoke. It's like an intangible wall that blocks their scene.
The humid air carries a metallic tint, characteristic of blood, that even his stuffy nose cannot block.
The wait is like torture, one that tickles the nerves.
They are more blind here than in the mine.
The howls are monstrous, grotesque and seem to come from all directions instead of from the shore.
It's a strange feeling, like a ring tightening around them to strangle their necks.
Like the rest of the group Dust counts the seconds, but after a while he loses his concentration and finds himself counting his heartbeats.
He clears his throat for the umpteenth time, the cough taking him in a treacherous way. Two, almost pressed against his back, jumps, surprised by the sudden sneeze. Which pushes Dust forward a few steps.
The boy thus jostled avoids an unfortunate fall in time and then freezes.
Silence closes around the scene like the lid of a coffin.
So heavy that it suffocates everyone present.
Dust widens his eyes, seeing nothing but opaque white.
Red whispers, his voice remaining steady despite everything:
-He's there. 3600 seconds.
They waited more than an hour.
From here they can hear the din of the massacre but not the much lower voice of the Ferryman who repeat the rules.
Behind the boy several whisper, when should they start running? They estimate, propose different times, finally decide to enter the fray 5 minutes before the Ferryman's arrival.
After that, for Dust everything happens in a blur fueled by adrenaline and fear.
He hears some of them beginning to change their minds, hesitating to try their luck on the shore. He doesn't pay attention to what is said. Time in the silence seems to stop then suddenly accelerates when the cries return.
In the end, no one left the group.
Red at his side counts the seconds again.
Dust almost pants, cold sweat running down his spine.
His mouth is dry, his muscles are stiff.
Only his companion's voice resonates in his head, no other thought disturbs him. Another hour passes too quickly.
-3000.
He feels like he has experienced a time jump, how many seconds are left?
-3100.
He searches, and loses himself in his reflection through panic. How many seconds are there in 5 minutes. 360? No 350? No, 300 seconds.
-3150 seconds. Prepare yourselves.
Dust hears Red's request but doesn't understand it right away. He swallows. Prepare what? How much does 300 seconds take away from 3600?
-3200.
It was his idea why panic like this now? He wonders in amazement. The boy turns his head to look at those behind him. They all look scared. Their pale faces almost blend into the mist. He diverts his gaze to avoid their eyes and falls into the the blue mirrors like eyes of Red who continue to count. Slowly, imperturbably:
-3250.
Dust draws confidence from the piercing blue irises. Surprisingly he doesn't avoid the gaze.
He spends the last 50 seconds like this.
-3300 seconds. Go for it!
Red leaves without further delay, his shoes sinking into the mud with force.
Dust freezes, then runs too.
The mist envelops them, and both of them emerge from the white smoke as if they were tearing a veil.
Dust doesn't check to make sure the running noises behind him are really coming from the rest of their group.
Before him a tide of beings much more numerous than seen before is on the banks. They push each other, hit each other, some bite their opponents like rabid beasts
A few heads swivel in their direction, they shout: - Travelers!
But it's chaos, and their voices are lost in the din.
Red does not hesitate, he plunges into the melee.
Dust understands that if they don't defend each other they won't escape this human crusher like crowd so despite the horror he protects his companion's back.
It was like suddenly arriving in the middle of a battlefield.
Blows come from all directions, it's impossible to avoid them all.
A rusty blade slashes his cheek, as he blocks a much deadlier attack to his left
Hands reach out, grip his hair and his armed arm.
An ax is reflected in his pupils.
He pushes the one holding him in place with a shoulder thrust. It is a desperate action, driven by instinct.
He manages to avoid the fatal blow, and the one that caught him is slashed by another who seized the opportunity with a smile his bony jawline deviod of any skin.
A realization freezes him. He lost Suspiscious in the crowd.
As best he can, he attacks and defends himself while looking for his companion. Red seems to shout his name but he is not sure.
His voice, however, allows him to be located.
He is taller than average, his red hair once again stands out from the teeming mass.
Pony and Charismatic join him but are cornered, Handsome in his state being difficult to protect.
Potatoes tries what he can to help them. But with such numbers attacking them he is nothing more than a bull in a Corrida.
However, their arrival allows the pressure to be released on Dust who without hesitation leaves them there to join Red.
The deeper he gets into the crowd, the more people are pressed together.
Those who fall are crushed to the ground by all those who are still struggling.
The boy sees a man cutting a little girl's head while two other individuals attack him. He is dismantled into pieces while being held upright by the crowd.
Dust avoids another blow, his wounds hitting him he winces as his blade meets another.
He vaguely realizes that he is walking on something soft and hard at the same time.
Looking down briefly, he sees the body of a dead woman without a head.
Distracted, a dagger sinks between his shoulder blades.
His eardrums resonate, iron meets his vertebrae.
The impact pushes him forward head first; he fall between two people who are confronting each other and hits someone's back.
He realizes half a second later that it was Red he hit.
The man has difficulty moving forward, probably out of reflex he almost hits Dust in the back with his lantern.
Their eyes meet again, that's when the boy notices that his companion is in a pitiful state, cuts disfigure him, something has torn off his ear, and the blood running down his forehead force one of his eyes to remain closed.
He doesn't say anything, he doesn't have time. He defends himself while letting Dust use him as support.
The boy stands up with difficulty, holding on to his companion's clothes to keep himself upright.
He takes a deep breath, and this inspiration makes the still-embedded blade move.
He can still move and he is not coughing up blood. It must be a miracle. It seems that the dagger was lodged where there would be the least damage. That's two injuries that avoided all the key places, the third will undoubtedly break this lucky cycle.
Others attack, and the boy has no choice but to fight back.
The smell is foul, that of sweat, rot and blood. It is the smell of death that he smells.
One of the attackers grab Dust's weapon with his bare hands to immobilize him.
He has very little room for maneuver with so many people around.
A woman digs her bare nails into his skin, holding in her other hand a sort of iron pick already well misted with blood.
She raises her arm and Dust, with the little space he has, can't push her.
He in turn grabs the fury's wrist.
She spits in his face once she fails to pierce him. Her strength multiplies
the drool running down her chin hit the face of Dust when it falls, the boy almost bends over because of her force, the knife in his flesh sinking a little deeper with his movement.
The woman now towers over him, her dirty hair falling on his forehead; he sees white maggots in her cheek full of holes blackened by rot.
The boy grunts, in a last effort lets go of his grip and digs his fingers into the crazy woman's black eyes.
His fingers meet no resistance, sinking into the eyeballs as if into a soft, slightly elastic and warm material. There's a strange noise, and the white balls pop. The liquid inside flows, and tints Dust's nails black.
The woman is in shock. Losing her sight, she staggers then freezes. She hoists up and tries to return to the attack but others behind push her over.
Two mens as thin as skeletons hit her with their ax until she stops moving.
-Dust.
The boy's arm is grabbed forcefully, Suspiscious pulls him forward.
There in the melee they come across Follower and Two who are making their way through with difficulty.
They left the pre-established order of the group.
They eagerly unite, trying to advance.
Where everyone kills each other, they form a rather rare alliance. And this advantage allows them to move forward.
again and again.
Centimeter after centimeter.
They advance.
Dust no longer feels pain. He defends himself as furiously as he can. There is no guilt or hesitation.
A gunshot rings out and they see the man with his feather hat whom they had already encountered before.
He too arrives at the front of the crowd.
But he doesn't attack them, only focusing on progressing.
The corpses under their feets multiply.
Everything evolves quickly, Dust defends Red at one point and at another the red-haired man helps him in turn.
The boy does not immediately realize that his feets are in the water and that he only has to defend himself on one side now.
The pressure they bear doesn't go down. From one moment to the next he thinks they are going to die. The wounds are accumulating, his breathing is jerky.
His blade is covered in blood.
It's the others who stop first.
Dust realizes, he turns and there he sees the boat.
His face freezes in a dazed expression.
It's like seeing dawn break. Another day is born, a new chance.
Hope shine in the darkness.
He wonders how he could have survived.
Red and Dust are closest to the water after the Ferryman states the rules again, they are the ones who get on the boat first.
Feeling the wood sway under his feet, the boy's nerves relax.
He sit at the back with Red.
"I am alive" he thinks.
Two and Follower come, taking a head out of a bag.
The boy, observing the face slashed by multiple knife wounds, wonders when they had time to steal a head from the natives.
They too take a place in the boat.
There is a discussion with the feather hat's man.
Dust lost in the amazement of still being alive notice that Two and Follower are not the only ones to have reached the edge of the lake.
The old man and Potatoes are there too.
More precisely Potatoes carrying on his shoulder the old man like a sack is there.
The stocky man seems at the end of his life, he is lacerated on all sides and the old man is disheveled, his gray eyes wide, with a strange expression.
Both of them have no head to pay the fare but the man with the feather has one and he is now alone.
He is a native and yet when the Ferryman asks him if he is going up alone, the man turns to look at Potatoes and his burden in silence. A silent understanding begin between the three individuals. After a hesitation, his face contorted by fear and regret, Potatoes puts down the old man and leaves his place to him.
The old man protests, even more stunned, stammers and tries to make Potatoes reconsider:
-Wait, think carefully, you're young, get on the boat, I won't blame you...
The man worn out by time tries to approach the youngest who takes a few steps back.
The man with the hat makes his choice, his blue finger pointing at the old man, his scratchy voice not hesitating for a single second.
-I'm coming with him.
The old man resists, Potatoes comes back and pushes him towards the boat.
The old man still does not want to go up, the native finally convinces him by adding that he would not change his choice.
The stocky man remains on the ground, his expression torn between fear and resignation. Dust looks away.
The ferryman stands up, his black dress gives him a tall stature. He doesn't add anything more.
In the silence, the lucky passengers feel the boat moving.
On the horizon the crowd stares at them, and shrinks visibly.
Dust does not see the two womens or Handsome.
Only Potatoes, with his head bowed, remains at the water's edge for a moment before making his way between the cadaverous-looking people to return to the forest.
Soon the mist covers the rest.