7
“I’d say when the spears were stuck through their bodies, they wouldn’t have killed em’ right away. Not unless the top halves of their bodies weren’t already ripped off, and they weren’t yet consumed by fire, that is. But, if they were still alive, they would have been in unbearable pain."
Swallowing hard, Connor repeatedly blinked as he gazed upon what was left of the impaled duo. “This…crime scene, Mr. Jude. It’s… it’s…"
“It’s what?"
“It’s almost supernatural."
“Oh no, boy. Don’t get all hocus pocusy on me now. There’s nothing supernatural here. In fact, there’s nothing supernatural at all. Everything has a logical explanation. Sure, the locals have all sorts of stories about the great and powerful Madame Pele, and ghosts on the mountain and such. But it’s all just ridiculous stories. There is no Madame Pele, and there are no ghosts. Save in the imagination of weak men and women. Now let’s go. It’ll be dark soon. Really, really dark."
“Wait," said Connor, “I thought I heard a knock on the door."
Mr. Jude waved his hand. “Oh, it’s probably just Chuck from Hawaii PD wondering what’s taking us so long. Go answer the door, Connor."
Connor stood up, clasped the door handle, and opened it wide.
