Fuzzy Piranha
Vernon D. Burns
For Beula.
It is not mine. That ugly baby looks nothing like me.
Prologue
The jungle was still, as silent as death itself. The air was humid and hot. Through the canopy, the remnants of the unforgiving sun peeked through, casting shadows on the decomposing plant matter that was the floor. The animals were scared.
A young deer stepped timidly through the undergrowth, her eyes wide and wild. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth like a dead fish. She crept slowly, as if each step were setting off old boxes of dynamite. Her crazed and desperate eyes settled on the pool of water, and her brain forgot to be afraid.
She crashed toward it, her mind resorting to pure animal instinct. After plunging her face into the water, she drank deeply. The water was cold and good. Her body shivered with primal delight as this most basic requirement of life was reintroduced to her system. It had been days since she’d had anything to drink.
So busy was she with her task that she didn’t notice the rippling near the surface of the water. She didn’t notice anything until it was too late.
Her eyes didn’t even have the chance to grow wide as the first set of teeth clamped on to her tiny nose, severing it from her body. Her blood poured into the water like a leaky fjord. The crimson spill only attracted more of the creatures, which bounded over one another to reach their prey. They didn’t need the food; no, they simply relished in the kill.
The deer was pulled half-in and half-out of the water. The creatures made short work of the half of her corpse that was unfortunate enough to have landed in the water. After a few short seconds, her bones were picked clean. All that was left was her still functioning brain, not yet free from life, unable to make her body respond, but still feeling all the pain related to having the flesh stripped from its body. If the deer still had a throat and mouth, it would have screamed out a carnal shriek, like a rabbit caught in a trap. As it was, though, it couldn’t. It bore its torture in noble silence.
After a minute or two, the deer’s back-half stopped twitching and lay lifeless. Mercifully, the brain stopped working, too.
The jungle was silent once more.
Chapter 1
“Why are we walking again?” Cynthia asked, her nasally, high pitched voice grating on the nerves of everyone in the party.
“Because it’s good for us!” her husband exclaimed. He was a bit pudgy, but made up for that with an even fatter bank account. While he was a somewhat disappointing human being, he was quite shrewd in the stock market and had managed to amass enough dividends to support a small country. “It’s all part of the experience!”
Cynthia grumbled something under her breath, annoyed at her husband. She slapped at a mosquito on her arm. “This place is disgusting.”
“That is my home you’re talking about, Miss,” said one of their two tour guides, a short man of questionable ethnicity. He frowned at her for a moment, then stole a look at her breasts. She wasn’t the most attractive woman on the expedition, but was definitely the second most attractive; there were only two women there!
“Oh, I beg your pardon. Wouldn’t want to offend,” she said, her voice edged with sarcasm. “Howard, please instruct the help to not speak to me.”
Her husband groaned on the inside. Sometimes he wished he’d married his high school sweetheart, a homely girl with a lovely personality and a very chipper attitude. When he made his fortune, though, he thought it was time to trade up, for fear he’d never get the chance again. What he’d ended up with was a double-edged sword: she was by far the most beautiful woman who’d have him with his modest fortune, but she could be a royal bitch, too. “Cheer up, honey,” he said, trying his best to smooth things over. Sometimes his wife failed to grasp very basic concepts- such as the fact they were dependent on this particular man to help them navigate the South American jungle.
“God, I wish they’d shut up,” said Cliff Parker to the woman walking next to him. She couldn’t help but grin. Amanda Handy was a gorgeous woman, but wasn’t looking for romance on this expedition. In fact, that’s why she had chosen it in the first place. It had seemed very unlikely that she’d find love in the depths of a jungle march. It had been much to her chagrin to find that her team included the dashing Parker, a handsome rogue if she’d ever seen one. Amanda quickened her pace and tried to leave the man behind, but didn’t have any luck; he was on her like a fly on shit.
“What brings you out here, anyway?” Cliff Parker asked. He wasn’t about to be put off by the woman’s skittishness. He sensed that there was something lurking beneath the surface of her nervous exterior. “Beautiful woman like you in a place like this?”
“Oh, you know,” she said quickly. “This and that.”
“Mysterious,” Cliff said. “I like that.”
Drat! thought Amanda. She was trying to put off something other than an air of mystery! She just wanted to be left alone!
“Do you have a boyfriend?” he asked, knowing the answer instinctively.
“Yes,” Amanda said, relieved to find such an easy excuse for ending the conversation. “Yes, I do. His name is Richard. He thought it would be good for me to get out and see the world while he was busy in meetings this week.”
Cliff looked physically deflated. He was sure she was single. Why else would a woman join a ragtag group like this? He sighed. “Lucky guy.”
“I like to think so,” Amanda said, flashing him a winning smile. She felt Cliff’s eyes lingering on her mouth for a bit longer than was necessary. Now that she was free from any expectation, she felt some satisfaction at the effect she had on him. “What are you doing out here by yourself?”
Cliff Parker reflected for a moment before answering. “I guess the simple answer is that I’m running away for a while.”
“Running away? From what?”
“Everything, I suppose,” he mused. “Work, family...well, used to be family. I still haven’t gotten used to that.”
“Used to be family? That sounds like a story.” Her heart leaped out to him when she saw the obvious pain he felt in discussing the topic. “What happened?”
“My wife and children all died,” he said quickly.
“What happened?” she asked again, alarmed.
“We were driving home on New Year’s Day, about an hour after the clock struck twelve. I’d had a little too much to drink and drove off the road, hitting some debris. One of the tires went flat. My wife got mad at me and took our boys and started walking into town. I stayed behind to change the tire, you see. The truck that hit them never saw them, drunk bastard.”
“That’s awful!” Amanda exclaimed.
“It is. It completely destroyed me. After seeing what that monster did to my babies, I swore I’d never drink another drop. To act as abominably as the...the....thing...that took my family is just too horrific a thought to bear.”
“If only he’d stayed home,” Amanda mused quietly. “Things would be very different. She looked over at the broken man and felt her knees go weak. If she wasn’t careful, she might just fall for this Cliff Parker...hook, line, and sinker.
Cliff looked up from Amanda’s sweater for a moment and a stunning lack of movement caught his eye.
“How do you deal with it?” Amanda asked. “Every day, I mean”
“I just kind of bear it,” Cliff said. “God gave me broad shoulders for a reason.”
He sure did, Amanda thought. But probably not for the reason you’re thinking.
“Hold on a sec,” he instructed and pushed his way to the front of their group. She stood near the back, waiting. Everyone had stopped walking, she’d noticed.
I wonder what’s going on, she t
hought.
In just a couple of minutes, Cliff Parker made it back to the attractive woman.
“Well....” Cliff started. “I just realized I neglected to make your acquaintance. Please forgive me. I’m Cliff Parker.” He held out his hand to shake. She slid her hand into his and gently pumped it.
“Amanda Handy,” she said.
“I bet you are,” he said, teasing.
Amanda blushed. “What’s the hold up, Cliff?”
A hardened look overtook Cliff Parker’s face. “The guides have seen something they don’t like. They’re refusing to move forward.”
Chapter 2
Fidel bent down, inspecting the patch of dried blood that had encrusted a section of the river bank. It was so close to the water, but this wasn’t gator territory. No. This was too close to the ancient ruins for gators to make their home. Animals, unlike people, were smart about where they spent their time.
Unlike these stupid Americans, all here with their strange foreign ways. Why, after all, did Americans think they owned the place? That foxy woman married to the fat man, for instance, seemed to think she was too good to even talk to Fidel, or his second cousin, Vegas.
He looked over at Vegas, who was smoking a cigarillo, his eyes grimly observing the motionless water. They exchanged a look that carried meaning without the requirement of using words to do so. It was transmitted purely by what they did with their eyes.
“What?” said the obnoxious, little fat man. “What’s the hold-up, Rodriguez?” the man said, again forgetting the man’s name and ejaculating the first Hispanic name he could think of. After all, to the investment banker, all these Mexicans in the jungles of Brazil looked the same.
Vegas looked back at the banker, smoke rising from his lips as he said in an ominous way, “Piranha, Senor.”
Howard wiped a film of sweat from his chubby cheeks and then put his arm around his wife, subtly wiping the sweat off on her shirt. “So? We aren’t crossing through the water, are we?”
Fidel spoke the most American of the two guides, and he began speaking it now. “The first plan, Senor, was to go through the river to avoid leaving tracks when we near the Pacona village. We will make a new plan now.”
Cliff spoke. “What’s wrong with the Pacona village? Maybe they know something about this piranha outbreak.”
Both Vegas and Fidel nodded their heads ominously. “Trust us, muchacho, you don’t want to go to the Pacona village. They don’t take kindly to visitors.”
“What do you mean?” Cynthia said. “They don’t even have a public restroom there?”
Fidel laughed. “White lady, you have seen your last public restroom for a while.”
The path they took guided them farther away from the river, and they slowed down to a dull crawl in order to be more silent. This had the opposite effect, however, as Cynthia’s phone started getting reception and she wanted to call and set up a party for when they got back to civilization. Despite the protestations of her husband and Fidel, she wouldn’t put the phone away.
Meanwhile, Amanda was walking directly behind Cliff, admiring the scenery. Not the jungle to their sides, but the natural beauty of Cliff’s firm buttocks. His denim did little to disguise the excellent care he took of his body, and she was wondering what he’d look like without that denim in the way.
Suddenly, he looked back at her. Her eyes moved up to his face, and he was smiling. She blushed and smiled back. Did he know she’d been checking him out? Or was he clueless? She wondered what the sleeping arrangements would be once they finally camped for the night.
Vegas stopped suddenly, looking forward along the path. Everyone ground to a halt behind him, and Howard said, “Holy mother of fuck, what is that?”
Before them, a corpse hung down above the path. The flesh had been cut away from the body selectively: the head was still intact, as were the legs and the hands. Everything else was bare bones, covered in a bloody film. It looked similar to the bones of a fish, only human. Howard and his wife, in a rare act of unity, both puked to the side of the path.
“Egads,” Cliff said, tilting his sunglasses down.
Vegas walked up to the body and spoke rapidly in Spanish. He then laughed ominously.
“What did he say?” Howard said, wishing he had thought of bringing gum to wash the taste of vomit from his mouth.
Fidel translated. “He says the Paconas want us to know they are here. And they want us to know that they know that we’re here, too.”
“Well,” said Howard, “doesn’t that just take the cake?”
Fidel shook his head. These Americans had strange ways of speaking. The Paconas would, if anything, take flesh from their bodies. Cake would have nothing to do with it. The Pacona, after all, believed that eating the flesh of humans from outside the tribe would bring greater power to the Pacona people themselves.
He couldn’t tell the Americans, though. They would probably get scared and insist on going back. This trip into the deepest, darkest parts of Brazil was his only chance to make enough money to get his daughter back from the Colombian cocaine smugglers who were holding her captive. No: it didn’t matter what happened. Fidel was going to get the money. He was fairly desperate at this point.
Amanda’s thoughts had shifted from Cliff’s buttocks to the corpse hanging before them. “What kind of inhuman people would do such a thing?” she asked.
Vegas looked back at her with an ominous smile. “Paconas, Senorita.”
When they finally pushed the corpse aside and continued down the path, Cliff fell into pace with Fidel. He wanted to know more about these piranhas that seemed to Vegas even more frightening than the Paconas.
“Fidel, what is so bad about piranhas? I’m afraid I don’t understand what all the fuss is about. Couldn’t we take a boat down the river?”
Fidel made a clicking sound with his mouth. “No, sadly, it is not so easy. These are not your . . . how do you say . . . “run of the mill” piranhas. They have evolved differently. All of the deforestation upstream from here made it necessary for the piranhas to adapt. They needed to be much more skilled at felling prey, because so little prey was to be had. You take a boat down this river, you’ll be a skeleton by morning.”
Shaking his head, Cliff said, “It just doesn’t make sense. Animals cannot evolve as fast as that! It just cannot happen!”
Fidel looked at him. “The U.S. Government performed some experiments with biological weapons upstream from here. It introduced new, radioactive elements into the waterways, and these caused the creatures to evolve at a very, very fast rate. You could also say they ‘mutate,’ if you want to get technical.”
“You’re probably mixing up your facts, Raul.” Howard was picking his teeth. “The U.S. Government would never do something so thoughtless.”
Fidel laughed. So did Vegas. So did Cliff and Amanda.
“All the same,” Cliff said, “it’s not safe to walk near the waterways?”
Vegas looked back at him ominously. He spoke some gibberish in Spanish rapidly.
“What did he say?” said Howard.
Fidel smiled nervously. “Vegas say, ‘Furry piranhas, they will find a way.’”
Chapter 3
The sky was growing dark and tepid, like the final unfinished swallow of a very strong tea. The mosquitos were out in force, terrorizing the white folks. Vegas and Fidel had retired to the river bank, where they cautiously smoked and caked their brown skin in thick layers of mud.
“Goddamned savages,” Cynthia said, slapping at an errant insect as it lighted on her skin. Her pale flesh, a real treat to behold in a dark room, was turning pink and splotchy, making her look more like a freshly plucked chicken than a hot number.
“They’re the savages?” ejaculated Cliff Parker. “Look at them. They’re the only ones here who are even remotely comfortable! I’d say they are the only ones with their priorities in order.”
“If you like them so much, why don’t you marry them?” Cynthia retorted, drawi
ng to her full height of five feet and four inches.
Cliff threw up his hands in disgust and charged toward the muddy bank. Amanda bit her lip in apprehension, while Cynthia fumed in self-righteous anger; the two women could not be more different.
“I wouldn’t get too much closer, cabron,” Vegas said.
“What?” Cliff asked absent-mindedly as he reached for some mud.
“Closer,” said Vegas. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”
Cliff’s look of confusion turned to one of terror as what looked like a toothy gray bullet covered in coarse brown hair shot from the water and snapped its impressive jaws just inches from his face before it disappeared into the depths once more. Cliff had never seen such a display, not even when he’d worked at the exotic pet store as a teenager.
“What the hell was that?” Cliff demanded, stumbling onto his backside in fear.
“Piranha,” Vegas and Fidel said in unison before sharing a hearty laugh.
“That was no piranha,” Cliff insisted. “That damned thing was covered in fur!”
“Like I said,” said Vegas. “They mutated. After the U.S. government testing, the deforestation caused the water to get colder. The piranha grew fur so they wouldn’t freeze.”
“What? Really? That can happen?”
Fidel nodded sagely, tendrils of smoke drifting up his face and into the sky.
“Wait. What about the rest of the fish? Are they furry, too? Where are they?”
“Dead, cabron. Stone cold dead.”
“Serves him right,” Cynthia said as her husband awkwardly pawed at her left breast. “He doesn’t have the right to speak to me like that!”
“He sure doesn’t,” her husband agreed, slipping the pock-marked globe into his mouth and suckling at it like a newborn pig. Cynthia’s face was flushed, but not from his romantic advances. Howard was worried that he was going to lose her to the devastating jungle night. He redoubled his efforts and flopped her second breast out from the confines of her brassiere. Luckily for him, the heat of the night was on his side and his young wife had decreed it too hot for clothing. She was in the process of disrobing herself as she spoke, down to the bra, which wasn’t really covering anything anyway, and her blood red thong.
Double Feature Page 1