The Word of God: The Army Cadets

By Christopher Cummings

The massive triangular mountain called Walsh Pyramid stands one thousand metres above the floodplain in Far North Queensland. Eight army cadets are hiking towards it, when they encounter a shadowy figure who tells them a tale so bizarre they find it difficult to believe. But not Stephen Bell. He knows it is true and urges the group to act immediately.

As they clamber up the mountain in a desperate race against time, they collide headlong with forces they barely imagined could exist.

Over the ensuing four days they are tested emotionally, spiritually and physically as they seek to vanquish the evil that lurks atop the mysterious pyramid.

An evil that knows no limits.

• Language: English
• Publisher: DoctorZed Publishing
• Release date: Jan 26, 2015
• ISBN: 9780994208477

Christopher Cummings

Christopher Cummings is a Vietnam veteran, teacher, parent, traveller, Officer of Cadets, and author of 35 books. Bushwalking, history and travel have added depth to his experiences. He grew up in Cairns and Cape York Peninsula, experiencing many adventures in the North Queensland bush and at sea in his father’s ships, adventures he has woven into his books.

Book preview

Pyramid

Chapter 1

WALSH PYRAMID

2 pm Sunday, 22 June

The eight teenage army cadets trudged along the dirt vehicle track at the base of Walsh Pyramid. On their left was a field of sugar cane, three metres tall and almost ready to harvest. On their right loomed the bush clad slopes of the mountain. All wore army camouflage uniforms and slouch hats. They wore webbing and carried packs and stout wooden staves. Sweat and grime marked their persons and they looked tired.

Cadet Under-Officer Peter Bronsky, 17 years old, brown eyed and brown haired, wiped sweat from his face and looked up the steep slopes at the distant peak.

How high is this thing?

The fair haired youth beside him, CUO Graham Kirk, studied the map in his hand before replying. Says nine hundred and twenty two metres here.

Peter made a face. Nearly a thousand. Sounds a lot. Do we really need to climb it? I’ve been up the blasted thing half a dozen times already, he grumbled.

Graham chuckled. Haven’t we all! he replied. Both had climbed the mountain with the Cubs and later with the Scouts, and even with school groups. The Pyramid was one of those places most of the local kids climbed at some stage in their lives.

The group arrived at a point where a weathered wooden sign noted the fact that the barely distinguishable trail in the long grass was the WALSH PYRAMID WALKING TRACK. Nearby in a grassy clearing beside the field of sugar cane two black four-wheel drive vehicles and two cars were parked.

With a grunt of relief Peter swung off his pack and looked around. He pointed to the cars. Must be a few bushwalkers up the mountain.

Graham looked and nodded. Yes, he agreed. Neither of those are the OC’s car.

An attractive blonde girl who also wore CUO’s rank slides on her camouflage uniform frowned. He did say he would meet us here didn’t he? she asked.

Yes Gwen, he did, Graham replied. We are early. He said three o’clock.

Peter smiled. That’s good, he said. That means we won’t be climbing the Pyramid today.

Why not? Gwen asked as she dumped her pack with a thud in the shade of a tree.

Peter gestured upwards. Because it takes about three or four hours, depending on how fit you are, he replied.

At that Graham snorted. Oh come on Pete! Don’t be a sook! We’ve still got time, he said. Three hours up and one back down. We could do it.

Peter chuckled. Off you go. We’ll see you in four hours.

Weakies! Graham jibed. Where’s your spirit?

Gwen Copeland made a face. I’ve temporarily worn mine out.

The last five cadets; three girls and two boys, joined them. One of the boys, a solid, slightly chubby CUO with pale, freckled skin, wiped perspiration from his face and grumbled: Strewth it is hot! This is supposed to be winter and it’s as hot as a summer day.

Yes Dean, it is a bit warm, Peter agreed.

An overweight, red-faced girl dumped her pack and slumped onto it. Do you really think we will have to climb this thing?

Graham nodded. Yes Charmaine. I reckon it’s a cert, he replied. Captain Conkey did promise a hike with some challenges in it.

A look of dismay crossed Charmaine’s face. Oh I hope not, she replied while fanning herself with her hat.

CUO Stephen Bell, dark-haired, freckle-faced and with glasses placed his pack beside the others and looked up at the mountain. I agree with Graham. Ever since we re-crossed the Mulgrave at the bottom of Bell Peak we have been heading for the Pyramid. I think… hello, who’s this?

They all turned to look as a man dressed in black came hurrying down the rough path. The man was obviously in haste as he slipped several times and was panting as though he had run a race. As the man reached the bottom of the track Peter felt a tightness grip his insides.

I don’t like the way this bloke is hurrying. I wonder if there has been an accident up on the mountain? he wondered.

The man scrambled down over the last few rocky patches and stumbled out onto the open ground. By then it was plain that he was very agitated, and that he was heading for them. As the man ran over to them Peter noted that he was about thirty, with a reddish complexion and black eyes. In his hand the man carried a small radio.

As he reached them the man cried out: Army! Thank God! Oh quick! You must stop them. If you don’t they will kill the prisoners! Quick!

Peter felt his heart quicken as a spasm of alarm gripped him. Prisoners? Kill them? He stepped forward as the man began to gabble excitedly at them. Without thinking he placed his hand on the man’s sleeve. Calm down! Who will kill who and why?

The man stood for a moment, gasping for breath, his eyes wild and staring. Peter noted this with rising anxiety.

This guy is in a real state. I hope he isn’t dangerous, he thought.

The man shuddered, closed his eyes, gulped air as though he was drowning, then pointed up the Pyramid. Devil Worshippers. They have three prisoners and are going to kill them at sunset. They make human sacrifices to Satan as the sun goes down.

Peter felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and he shivered involuntarily. Devil Worshippers!

Before he could speak Graham cut in: Devil Worshippers! Here? In North Queensland!

The man swallowed and nodded. You must believe me. Yes, Devil Worshippers; Sons of Satan. They are evil. You must hurry. Oh please hurry. I don’t want to be responsible for any more killings.

Any more! Peter’s mind raced, attempting to sort out what was going on. The thought that the man might be mentally unbalanced flitted across his mind and Peter glanced at him to check if he had any weapons. None was visible. So how do you know this? Who are you? he asked.

My name is Michael Skarzcy and I am one of them, the man wailed. Oh please hurry. They aren’t far ahead of you. If you move quickly you will catch them up and be in time.

Gwen curled her lip in disbelief. How do we know this isn’t just some sort of a wind-up; to send us up the mountain as a sick joke?

It’s no joke! the man cried, his anguish sounding genuine to Peter.

Gwen persisted: So why are you telling us? How do you fit into this? What’s the story?

I told you. I am a Devil Worshipper too, the man replied, his agitation at not being instantly believed growing by the second. He hopped from foot to foot and his eyes flicked from one to the other rapidly. Peter nerved himself to be ready to physically grapple with the man if he became violent.

Gwen scoffed: Devil Worshippers! Here in North Queensland? Get real!

It’s true! the man shrieked. You must believe me. Oh please hurry!

Prove it, Gwen challenged.

I can’t, the man replied in a mixture of anger and exasperation. That he was deeply distressed was very apparent.

Stephen Bell, who up till this time had stood back, now stepped forward and pushed his glasses up his freckled nose. There are Devil Worshippers in Cairns, I can vouch for that, he said quietly.

Gwen gave him a shocked look and CUO Joy Randall, a short, solid girl from Townsville, let out an audible gasp.

How do you know that? Gwen demanded of Stephen.

I’ll tell you later, Stephen replied calmly. But believe me they exist; and they are very dangerous people. If this guy says that they are going to make human sacrifices then I believe him.

Stephen’s word was good enough for Peter. He had known Stephen for years and they had been through some hair-raising adventures together in the past. Peter turned to the man: OK, give us the facts, and quickly.

The man nodded, licked his lips and spat out his tale in jerky sentences. He had been persuaded to become a Devil Worshipper a few years earlier by a friend. At first he had thought it all a bit of a joke and mostly good fun, with lots of sex and good thrills. Bit by bit he had been initiated into a secret group. By the time he realized the Devil Worshippers were deadly serious he had been too deeply involved to pull out.

So why come to us? Peter asked.

Because I’ve had enough. I can’t stand it any more. I don’t want the deaths of anyone else on my conscience, the man replied.

How many Devil Worshippers are there? Peter asked. Five, and three prisoners, the man replied. Are they armed? Graham asked.

The man nodded. They will all have knives. That is how they make the sacrifices. They pray and get all worked up, then at either sunset, or midnight, whichever the omens indicate, they mutilate and torture their captives, then slit their throats and drink their blood.

Peter shivered with revulsion and horror. Several of the others gave audible gasps. Who are these people?

The man shook his head: I daren’t tell you. I’ve said too much already. If they find out I told you they will kill me.

The man’s fear was so genuine that Peter could only nod. He asked: Who are the prisoners? Why are they killing them?

Again the man shook his head: Three men. I don’t know their names. One is a local bloke but I have never seen the other two. The boss didn’t explain why they had to die except to indicate they were very dangerous to us in some way.

Why are you here? Why didn’t you go up the mountain with the others? Peter asked.

The man waved the hand radio. I am the sentry. I am to warn them if anyone follows them up the mountain. They like to worship in secret.

Peter put his hand out: Give me the radio. What is your call sign?

The man handed the radio over as though it was hot. Michael, he replied.

And your boss, what is his call sign?

He is six six, Michael replied. He is one of Lucifer’s Lieutenants.

How will we know these people? How will they be dressed? Peter asked.

In ordinary clothes until they begin their ceremonies, the man replied. Then they change into black costumes. You will know them when you see them. Oh hurry!

Just a minute. We need to plan this, Peter replied. Will you show us the way?

The man shook his head, fear evident on his face. No! No! No I won’t. I’m getting out of here.

With that the man turned and began to run along the vehicle track towards Gordonvale.

Graham moved to grab him. Hey! Come back here! he cried. But the man ignored him and ran on. Graham went to chase but then stopped to watch. As the man vanished out of sight around the bend in the track the cadets looked at each other.

Joy licked her lips and looked sacred. Well! What do we do now? she asked anxiously.

Pretty obvious, Peter replied. We phone the police. Get out that mobile phone Charmaine.

Charmaine, the red faced chubby girl, nodded and bent to dig in her pack. Army policy was that cadets were not allowed to have mobile devices during cadet activities and while they all owned one Capt Conkey had only allowed them to keep one in case of emergencies.

While Charmaine rummaged in her pack Joy bit her lip and frowned. What if.. what if this is just part of the exercise? she asked.

Peter looked at her, thinking she was very pretty. You mean like the people who act various roles in the Senior Field Exercises your OC organizes? he queried. Joy’s unit, 130ACU, was famous through the North Queensland cadets for the week long ‘Senior Exercises’ that were always a challenging adventure and always involved a story with a lot of costumes and play acting. One had not been organized for these holidays which was why the friends had arranged their own activity.

Joy nodded. Yes, she agreed.

Peter did not think so but before he could speak Stephen answered her. No way. That bloke wasn’t acting. He was genuinely terrified. I think we should call the police.

Graham looked doubtful. What if it is though? Shouldn’t we check with Capt Conkey first? We will look like real noddies if we spark a major police drama and it all turns out to be just part of the exercise.

Peter nodded. Good idea. OK Charmaine, give Capt Conkey a call and I will ask him, he said.

Charmaine now had her mobile phone in her hand after extracting it from a plastic bag. She tried to turn it on and then frowned and tried again. A little stab of anxiety went through Peter. What’s the matter? he asked.

It won’t seem to turn on, Charmaine replied, pushing again at the button. She blushed and looked flustered.

Stephen looked at her. Is the battery flat? he asked.

Charmaine nodded and muttered, Yes, it looks like it.

But you charged it fully and then turned it off and packed it away, Joy commented. I watched you do that.

Charmaine nodded again and then coloured with embarrassment. Joy held out her hand. Give me a go, she instructed.

Reluctantly Charmaine handed Joy the phone. Joy also tried and also had no luck. Dead flat, she said. She handed the phone back and then looked accusingly at Charmaine. Did you take it out and turn it on?

Charmaine blushed even more and then nodded. Yes, but only to check my emails and facebook, she muttered.

Peter wasn’t impressed. They had promised Capt Conkey they would not use the phone for personal reasons and his opinion of Charmaine, never high, now slid even lower. You must have left it turned on, he said.

Charmaine nodded and tears formed in the corners of her eyes. Sorry, she whispered.

A worried looking Dean spoke next. So what do we do now? he queried.

Peter had been thinking about that, calculating time and space in his head. Obviously some of us go to get the police; and the rest of us go up this bloody mountain. It looks like you are going to get your wish Graham.

Graham bit his lip and nodded, then started walking. Peter put out a hand to restrain him.

Hey! Hold on a minute ‘Old-Bull-at-a-Gate’. Let’s get organized first.

Graham stopped and gave a grin, then nodded. Peter smiled back. Good old Graham! Peter knew he could depend on him come Hell or high water. If there is a scrap where a White Knight is needed to fight dragons, then Graham will charge into it, he thought. Particularly if there is a damsel in distress involved.

Charmaine looked fearfully up into the bush. I’m not going up that mountain!

Peter managed to keep his voice neutral as he replied: You don’t have to. We need someone to stay down here; to contact the police; and to wait for Captain Conkey. You can do that.

Not on my own! Charmaine shrilled. She was from one of the Townsville cadet units and Peter couldn’t help wondering why she had joined them on the holiday hiking trip.

You won’t be. We wouldn’t be so silly. There must be at least two of you. Who else wants to stay? Peter asked, glancing at Joy, Megan and Gwen. All shook their heads, although Joy looked very apprehensive.

Gwen set her lips in a firm line. If the Devil’s Disciples are about then it is our Christian duty to fight them, she said.

She said this in such a matter-of-fact, yet determined way that Peter was surprised. I never knew old Gwen had strong religious ideas, he thought. They had been in the same classes at school for twelve years, and in the cadets for four years and he was amazed to realize at how little he really knew about her.

Dean had been looking very unhappy and was sweating. He now said hesitantly: I’ll stay with Charmaine, he offered.

Peter caught a glimpse of the contempt on Graham’s face as he turned away. He nodded and agreed. Good. We will take all your water. Then you are to go and phone the police.

What, walk all the way to town? Charmaine cried, pointing in the direction of Gordonvale. The chimney of the large sugar mill was just visible several kilometres away through the trees.

It’s only three or four kilometres, Peter replied flatly, trying to hide his own negative feelings. Anyway, you only need to walk to that farmhouse back over there. That is only about a kilometre. You should be there in ten minutes.

At that both Charmaine and Dean looked relieved but Charmaine then added: But that man went along that road.

Graham’s face twisted into a sneer: Then walk around the edge of the bloody cane field! Christ! Let’s get moving.

Charmaine looked hurt. Peter shook his head: Even if he did he won’t bother you. He will be half way to Gordonvale by now. Just phone the police, then come back here. When Captain Conkey comes tell him what is going on.

But.. but what if more Devil Worshippers arrive? Dean asked.

Then hide in the bush over there and watch from there. You can hide our gear with you as well, Peter replied patiently.

To get things moving he set to work transferring water. Most had only one water bottle left, which was worrying as they were already thirsty and it was a hot day.

Take torches, Peter added. We won’t be back down before it gets dark.

By then Graham was waiting at the bottom of the walking track, his face alive with excitement. Stephen and Gwen joined him, then Joy. Peter noted the anxious look on Joy’s face and quietly whispered to her. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to Joy.

Joy set her lips in a firm line. I’ll come. Don’t worry.

CUO Megan Crawley, the fourth girl; a quiet, friendly, freckle-faced girl from Sarina, joined them and said: OK, we are ready.

Graham grinned. Right, let’s go. Dean, you and Charamine get busy moving all our gear out of sight and then get to the farm.

Dean nodded and Charmaine gave a sickly grin then the pair gathered up two packs each and started walking across to the trees where Peter had suggested hiding the gear. Peter watched them for a moment and then nodded to Graham.

With that the friends set off up the Pyramid.

Chapter 2

UP WALSH PYRAMID

Within a hundred paces Peter found he was gasping for breath and perspiring. I’m not as fit as I thought I was, he told himself ruefully.

Slow down Graham. We aren’t all as fit as you, he called.

Graham stopped and looked back, his face red from exertion. From further down the hill behind Peter Stephen called: Remember what Capt Conkey said about climbing mountains. Slow and steady wins the race.

Peter nodded. Over the years he and his friends had climbed several mountains with cadets and he remembered that Capt Conkey’s basic safety rule was that if you couldn’t carry on a normal conversation you were going too fast for your fitness level. But that doesn’t apply in this situation. We have to push ourselves if we are to save these people, he told himself.

Graham grinned again, then turned and continued to climb, but at a slower pace. Peter glanced back to check how the others were going. Already they were stringing out, with Megan and Joy falling behind.

The track was just an overgrown foot trail through knee high grass and open bush. It led up over patches of bare granite and through stands of straggly eucalypts. In places the track was eroded and rough, with stones or tree roots protruding.

Graham glanced back and gestured at the track. Doesn’t seem to have changed since we were up here last, he commented.

Did you expect it to? Peter asked with mild sarcasm.

Well, you never know, Graham replied. Things happen so quickly in North Queensland these days that you never know what to expect when you go somewhere.

Peter nodded. You are right there, he agreed.

They paused to get their breath every hundred paces. At each halt they were visibly higher. They could already see out over the green cane fields and the sugar mill at Gordonvale was very obvious as a landmark.

As they halted after plodding up another couple of hundred paces Graham pointed up ahead. Someone coming.

They all looked anxiously through the trees. Megan licked her lips and asked: What will we do if it is them?

Peter shrugged. Depends, he replied. If they are just walking down we will just pretend to be bushwalking and say a cheerie hello.

Graham frowned. How will we know if it is them? We can hardly just ask everyone we meet if they are Devil Worshippers, he asked.

Stephen blinked through glasses that were starting to fog up from condensation. We will know, he replied flatly. He looked very pale and was unusually silent.

A middle aged couple, a man in shorts and a woman in slacks, came plodding down the track.

Graham stepped off the track to let them pass. Hello, he said in a friendly tone. The pair replied with grunts and nods.

Peter carefully scrutinized the couple, then realized Stephen was right. They would know who the Devil Worshippers were. As the couple reached him they smiled and the man said: Hot day. You’ve got a long walk ahead of you yet.

Yes, we know, Peter replied. Have you seen any other walkers ahead of us?

Army cadets are you? asked the man, eyeing the blue and gold badge sewn onto the upper sleeve of Peter’s camouflage uniform.

Yes, Peter replied. On a hike.

The man nodded. I was a cadet meself once. That was thirty years back now though. No. We didn’t see any cadets, only one chap on his own and a group of older men.

Thanks, Peter replied. This couple will own one of the cars back down at the bottom, he surmised.

After the couple had passed the cadets resumed their climb, steadying down as the sheer scale of the mountain made itself felt. The track curved left along the side of a slope, then went up over a moss and grass tufted sheet of granite for a hundred metres, then wound back to the right up through long grass into trees again. At the next level stretch the group halted, all sweating freely and panting.

Megan voiced all their thoughts when she asked: What will we do when we get to the top? How will we deal with these Devil Worshippers?

Peter had been turning over various options in his mind and her question forced him to decide. He replied: We will just pretend to be ignorant of who they are. I think the mere fact of our arrival and presence will stop them doing anything serious. I am sure they won’t carry out any murders with us around.

Graham gave a chuckle. Unless they want to make it a real bloodbath and add us to the sacrificial total, he said jokingly.

Joy went very pale. Graham!

Sorry. But I agree with Pete. If we arrive they will have to change their plans, Graham replied.

But we can’t just hang around, Megan said.

Yes we can, Graham replied. We just act dumb, then tell them we have orders to wait on top for the rest of our group to join us. That should shift them.

What if they tell us to leave? Megan asked.

Peter waved his arms to indicate the whole mountain. We tell them it is a free country and refuse, he said. With luck the police will have arrived by then anyway.

Stephen nodded. They will probably fly in by helicopter and beat us to the top anyway, he suggested.

Hope so. They can give us a lift down then, Graham replied.

Peter did a calculation. Dean and Charmaine should have reached the farm at least ten minutes ago. That means things should be starting to move. I hope the police do beat us to the top.

They resumed slogging steadily upwards. Their bodies began to settle down to the sustained effort required. Peter kept constantly checking his pulse and the time. Slow down. Keep your heart rate down. Remember what Capt Conkey said was the Bolivian Army’s saying for climbing mountains: If you want to reach the top of a mountain feeling like a young man then walk up it like an old one.

We have to move fast or we might be too late, Graham countered.

Peter shook his head. That bloke said the sacrifice was to be at sunset, as the last rays of the setting sun touched the mountain top. There will be some religious reason for that. They won’t change without good reason. It is only five to three. We’ve got nearly three hours. Sunset is at about 1800.

Graham stopped and consulted his map. Nine hundred metres or so from bottom to top. A person can climb about three hundred in an hour, as a rough average. I reckon we must be about a third of the way up. He peered out through the bush at the surrounding country and at what he could see of the mountain looming above them through the trees.

Peter agreed with this estimate. After another minutes rest, when his breathing and pulse had slowed, he resumed the steady upwards plod. Soon after that a lone bushwalker passed them on his way down the mountain. He was in his thirties, bearded and fit and wore shorts, shirt and strong hiking boots. Gruff greetings were exchanged.

Definitely a third of the way up now, Graham commented as they paused on a small rocky knoll.

Joy puffed to a halt and looked around. Wait here for a minute. I need to go to the toilet, she said.

Stephen snorted. We don’t have time. The nearest toilet is at Gordonvale, he quipped.

Oh very funny! Joy replied shortly. Come with me Megan.

Don’t get bitten on the bum by a snake, Graham called as the two girls made their way into the bush.

At that moment the hand radio, which Peter had placed in his basic pouch, crackled into life. Michael, this is Six Six. Do you hear me? Over.

Graham met Peter’s eyes. Strewth! I didn’t think of that, he cried.

Peter fumbled the radio out, even as Six Six called again; his voice plainly annoyed. Here Steve, you answer. You are best at imitations, he said, holding the radio out.

Stephen nodded and took the radio, licked his lips, found the ‘press to talk’ switch and replied. Six Six, this is Michael, over.

Have those bushwalkers reached you yet, over?

Roger Six Six, middle-aged couple and one bearded bushwalker, over. Stephen replied. He licked his lips and waited tensely for the answer.

Back crackled Six Six: Don’t wait to be asked in future! Keep us informed. And don’t go to sleep. Six Six out.

Stephen exhaled slowly and Graham gave his brow a mock wipe. Phew! That was unexpected.

It shouldn’t have been, Peter replied. He was angry with himself for not having anticipated it. Think about what you might have to say Steve. You keep the radio.

As soon as the girls re-joined them the group continued on up, stopping every few hundred paces to allow thumping hearts to slow down. Peter found himself gasping for air and silently cursed his unfitness. Even Graham slowed down and began to mutter about how the mountain went on and on.

Just one bloody false crest after another!

This whole mountain is one long false crest I seem to remember, Peter replied.

Stephen stopped to lean on a tree. Just as well Charmaine stayed at the bottom, he put in. We wouldn’t have got to the top before tomorrow night then.

Don’t be horrible Stephen! Joy snapped. She can’t help what she looks like.

Stephen grunted. Yes she can. She’s a fat slug who eats too much, he replied.

That’s cruel. She isn’t! Joy replied heatedly.

Peter looked back. Stop it you two! Save your fight for when we get to the top, he ordered. He looked hard at Stephen, then at Joy. It was obvious she was annoyed by what she classified as a ‘Lookist’ comment. From previous conversations Peter was aware that Joy was very sensitive about weight. Probably because she is a bit tubby, he conjectured. Then he modified this. She was not tubby, more short and solid in build.

To his own surprise Peter found that Joy was turning out to be quite a different person from what he had previously thought. He had known her for two years, having first met her when she was doing her Warrant Officers Promotion Course. Graham had been on the same course and Peter had been doing his Sergeants Course at the time. Then he had thought her a fairly colourless and dull person; chubby and plain.

When Gwen had mentioned that Joy would like to join them on their hike he had been mildly surprised but had no objection as she was a likeable person, although privately he wondered why she wanted to come, and whether she would be able to keep up. He doubted if she had much spirit. Now he wondered. She was still trying hard to keep up, her determination clear in her face.

They came to a point where the slope dramatically steepened. Large areas of exposed granite dictated they detour around to the side of the ridge. Several times they paused for breath before reaching the top of the slope.

Megan looked over her shoulder and gasped. Oh, look at the view! she cried, as they paused once again.

They all turned to look. For the first time they had a clear view, uninterrupted by trees.

Gosh! You can see for ever, Joy cried.

Below them the coastal corridor looked like a huge model. The town of Gordonvale lay spread along the far side of the line of dark green trees which marked the Mulgrave River. White smoke billowed from the chimney of the sugar mill. Tiny cars zipped along the highway.

Train! Graham said, pointing to where a long sugar train rattled along behind a diminutive yellow diesel locomotive.

Just like our model, Peter commented. The boys had been constructing a huge HO Scale model railway for years. This was located at their friend Roger’s house.

Roger would love to see this, Graham said.

Peter nodded. I wonder how he is doing on his ATA Course? he replied. Roger was a Third Year cadet and a Sergeant. He was currently attending a 7 day Adventure Training Award Course being run by the army at the High Range Training Area near Townsville.

Stephen sniffed as he polished his glasses with a handkerchief. He won’t be able to get over those walls on the Confidence Course, the fat toad, he commented.

Graham turned and snapped back. Roger was his life-long friend and also his platoon sergeant. He will so! Roger’s not fat anymore, not like he was in Year 8. He’s just a bit chubby; and he’s got the guts to give things a try, so stop picking on him Steve.

Stephen sniffed again and shrugged. Peter mentally notched up another point in Graham’s favour. If a friend was attacked he defended them. To change the subject he pointed out the huge mangrove swamps around the distant Trinity Inlet.

Megan looked. It is very pretty, she commented.

Graham pointed northwards. You can see Cairns from here. Those buildings in the distance. That is the sea beyond them, he explained.

As they stood there a huge jet airliner slid overhead, obviously on its descent to Cairns airport. Peter checked his watch.

Let’s keep going. It is half past three.

Are we half way up yet? Gwen asked as they resumed climbing.

Graham shook his head. No, not yet, Graham replied.

Megan looked dismayed. Oh we must be! she cried.

No. There is a marker at the half way point, Graham replied.

Peter stepped up onto the next stone. We had better move faster, he said.

They tried to increase their pace but soon slowed to a panting, puffing halt. The mountain seemed to just go on and on. It was now so steep that they were going up at what seemed like a 45 degree angle, each step testing heart, lungs and leg muscles as they strained to lift them up. Sweat poured freely.

At the next stop Megan had a drink, shook her water bottle and announced she was out of water.

Me too, Joy added.

That was potentially very serious. Peter bit his lip and wondered if he should send them back down. Even though it was June the air was hot and still and heat exhaustion was a distinct possibility. He decided to take a risk and push on, mostly because he did not like the idea of leaving two girls alone in the bush, particularly in these circumstances.

After another ten minutes of sweaty upward slog they again emerged from trees onto another stretch of open granite and grass. They were granted another glorious view, this time with even better views of distant Cairns.

This is half way, Graham said, pointing to where this fact was painted on a rock in white paint.

Joy looked puzzled. Why would they paint that here? she asked.

Stephen shrugged. To demoralize Boy Scouts, Girl Guides and other idiots who set out to climb the thing, he offered.

Oh poo to you! Joy replied, turning up her nose.

In spite of the growing feeling of dread which was now gripping him Peter managed a weak laugh. It is for the race they have up here every year, he explained.

Race? Joy asked.

From Gordonvale. They start at the park and run to the Pyramid, then up it. From memory the record is about an hour and a quarter.

An hour and a quarter! I don’t believe you, Megan cried.

Peter shrugged. He did not feel like arguing. It is something like that, he muttered.

Graham stopped and looked around. The hillside appeared to be a jumble of large rocks among trees. Numerous splintered trees and logs attested to the fury of a recent storm.

I seem to have lost the track.

Doesn’t matter. Just keep following this ridge and we have to end up on top, Peter replied.

Joy pointed up to where a distinct crest showed. Is that the top we can see? she asked.

I think so, Peter replied, although in fact he suspected it was only another false crest. He checked his watch again. Nearly four. He bit his lip. At that rate it was going to be well after five before they reached the crest. He began planning how they might spend the night on top.

Be no fun if it gets really cold, he surmised. Even though they were in the tropics he knew from hard experience that the June temperatures in the mountains frequently dropped to near zero.

Graham led them up around the side of a jumble of rocks, then across a large sheet of granite and grass. Peter drained the last of his water and knew he was thirsty. He bit his lip but said nothing. More worrying to him was the failing light. They were already in shadow on the side of the ridge and the sunlight was starting to get that rosy evening glow which presaged sunset. Anxiety at being too late; and fear of what they might find on top, both built up.

Snake! Graham cried. He sprang aside and pointed. Peter was just in time to see the movement as the reptile slid into a tuft of grass.

Death Adder, he commented.

Graham shook his head and gave a visible shudder. He had been bitten by a King Brown a few years before and loathed the things. Nearly trod on the bastard, he said, as he resumed his upward slog over the loose rocks.

Stephen studied the long grass carefully as he came up to the place. Just the place to find the mongrels, he added.

Fear of snakes helped focus their thoughts for a while. It slowed them up as they came to an area of steep rock slopes and huge boulders where they had to use their hands to help climb. Graham was very careful to look before he placed his hand on top of each rock.

Twenty minutes later they halted on a short level stretch for another rest.

Stephen looked around. This is getting a ‘close-to-the-top’ look about it, he commented.

Peter also looked around and nodded. The vegetation had changed. She Oaks, he said. The ridge had become a steep-sided razor back as well.

Graham gestured upwards. We’d better go a bit more carefully, he said.

Peter shook his head. Not yet. We still have a couple of hundred metres to go and it is nearly five o’clock, he replied.

They plodded on upwards. Now they were rapidly tiring. Peter licked dry lips and studied the faces of the others. He wasn’t worried about Graham. He was super fit and a very experienced bushwalker. Stephen was alright as well but all of the girls looked tired and drawn. Megan in particular was showing signs of exhaustion. Joy kept struggling up, her face a mask of concentration and determination which Peter found admirable.

The track continued on up the razor back at a steep angle. Graham pointed out to his right. That is the Mulgrave Valley there; and that line of mountains that are flat on top is the edge of the Atherton Tablelands, he explained. He loved North Queensland and was proud to display its beauty at every opportunity.

Joy looked and nodded. It is certainly an impressive view, she agreed.

Stephen made a face. We have to come down again don’t forget, he put in. And going down is always harder on the legs.

Thanks Steve! Gwen replied sarcastically.

The vegetation abruptly changed again and the track levelled out on a very narrow ridge. Peter felt his anxiety increase. They were certainly approaching the summit now. The track went around the side of the ridge through spiky bushes and long grass. In places it was deeply eroded and was so steep they had to climb in painful steps. The trees were all stunted and bent by the winds.

A hundred metres further up the ridge levelled out again. Ahead huge boulders stood up on the skyline. The top, Peter gasped.

They stopped and carefully scrutinized the summit but there was no sign of any Devil Worshipers, or any other sign of movement. After five minutes rest they continued walking, silent now, or conversing in whispers.

The track skirted below the huge boulders, then went very steeply up the side of the ridge onto the crest. As he climbed with labouring heart and gasping lungs Peter realized they had been mistaken. It was not the top, just another false crest!

Why can’t these buggers carry out their sacrifices in cemeteries on flat ground, he grumbled.

They do sometimes, Stephen commented.

As they halted to regain their breath Gwen looked hard at Stephen and asked: How come you know so much about these people?

Stephen made a face. It is a long story.

He was clearly unwilling to add more but Gwen pressed him: Does it have something to do with that gang you were involved in when we were in Year Eight?

Peter looked at both with interest. He had not realized that people like Gwen had even heard about that. Nor did he know the details himself as Stephen had always been very shy of talking about it.

Stephen shrugged. Tell you later, he replied. Come on, it is getting late. The sun is starting to set.

With a shock Peter realized that he was right. The light had a rosy glow to it and the air had suddenly taken on a distinct chill. A glance showed him that the crimson ball of the sun was almost down to the mountain tops of the Lamb Range. He looked at his watch. 5:15.

Graham led the way on up another very steep pinch through a thick belt of stunted trees and waist high bushes and ferns. The cadets climbed up past another huge boulder and stopped.

At last! The top! Or almost. The track went down across a low saddle thickly covered on small trees and ferns to a slightly higher point a hundred metres away.

Where are these Devil Worshippers? Peter wondered. Graham went into a crouch but Peter could see nothing. When the others had joined them and they had recovered their breath they began slowly moving forward.

Graham halted again and held up his hand, then pointed.

From the bushes ahead came the murmur of voices, then an eerie howl which set Peter’s hair on end.

Devil Worshippers!

Chapter 3

ON TOP OF THE PYRAMID

Devil Worshippers!

Peter’s blood ran cold. His head felt as though it was being gripped by an icy hand from behind. He crouched behind a bush and peered ahead. There was no sign of anyone amongst the trees.

Then a voice pierced the stillness. Its message chilled them all again.

Satan! Satan! Your disciples call you. See our sacrifice!

Graham turned with anxiety. Sacrifice! We might be too late. Quick!

Before Peter could stop him Graham moved forward at a crouching run. Without thinking Peter followed, aware that the others were behind him. The path led down a slight dip through a thicket of small trees and up to where a large, smooth, rounded rock marked the highest point.

Here Graham paused, his head questing from side to side as he peered through the trees. Peter joined him. Stephen and the girls closed up as well. Peter noted Joy’s anxious face and gave her a re-assuring nod.

There was still no sign of anyone, but the murmur of voices came from not far ahead. Graham began creeping around the large rock on its left hand side. Peter and the others followed. By then Peter was feeling scared and knew his heart was hammering from fear, not exertion. He swallowed and hoped his nervousness didn’t show.

Suddenly a piercing scream rent the still air. The cadets stopped and crouched down in shocked silence. A voice called: Talk, or it will be ten times as bad. We haven’t even started yet!

Peter swallowed, then whispered: They must be torturing a prisoner. Perhaps we are in time after all.

Graham nodded. Not sunset yet.

Peter glanced over his shoulder. The sun was now like a huge red disc and its lower edge was just dipping below the top of the distant Lamb Range. The mountains looked like black cardboard cut-outs and all the valleys in between were hazy in shadows.

Graham continued his cautious advance and came to a small, flat, open area ringed by small boulders and stunted trees. Scattered around it were packs and clothing. The voices came from just beyond and below this.

Once again Graham led, crossing the open space in ten paces, to crouch among rocks and bushes on the far side. From there he beckoned the others forward, even as another terrible scream rang out. Peter wanted the girls to stay back and motioned to them not to follow him but they ignored him.

The cadets crouched under cover and stared down in horror at a scene that shocked them all. Just below them was a large, flat topped boulder half the size of a house. The boulder jutted out from the very crest of the mountain. Beyond it was a drop that made Peter dizzy just to look at it. On top of