The Deathless Quadrilogy

by Chris Fox

  Deep rhythmic howls came from the dense foliage to the right side of the path. More howls came on their heels, this time from the other side of the path.

  “What am I hearing?” Jordan asked. He scanned the trees, but kept one eye on the treacherous path.

  “They are called howler monkeys. They are harmless, for the most part. Sometimes they can be dangerous, in that they will lead predators to prey. After the predators kill and eat their fill, the howler monkeys scavenge the carcass. This is a new thing. They did not do it before the world changed.” The way Leti said it suggested more fascination than revulsion. “It is the way in the jungle. All things must kill to survive. Even the plants fight to reach the life-giving sun. There is no truer expression of nature’s price.”

  “Sounds lovely. If we’re really being hunted by some sort of spirits, those things are going to be like a beacon.” Jordan guided the Jeep over a small rise, bouncing sharply when he went over a thick root. God, he hated roots.

  “If the jungle wishes us harm, there will be no hiding from it. Even making the attempt to hide would be perceived as hostile.”

  “You mean the natives, right?” Jordan asked.

  “No, I mean the jungle. The jungle itself is alive. It has a consciousness. I do not know the science behind this thing, but I do not need to fully understand a thing to know how it is possible. Werewolves and zombies were nothing but fantasies five years ago. Is this so difficult to accept?” Leti stared up at the trees, spooning chili into her mouth. “This place is the largest biomass in the world. It is one of the oldest, one of the last remaining great jungles. Only the Congo rivals it, but the Congo is smaller.”

  “I respect this place, trust me.” Jordan eyed the tree warily as they slowly picked a path down the hillside. More than once Jordan had felt like the Jeep was going to topple, but he knew from experience that the low center of gravity made these things like mountain goats. “I did a tour along the jungle in Columbia, back in the early nineties. We were hired to oust some guerrillas that were terrorizing local villages. We lost two dozen men in three weeks before we finally cornered them. It was one of the costliest operations I’ve ever been a part of. Those who know the jungle have a massive advantage over those who don’t.”

  Jordan paused at the bottom of the hill, pulling off to the side of the trail to allow Trevor to catch up. He leaned out the side of the Jeep as the deathless pulled up alongside them. “Hey, Trevor, it’s getting fairly late and I don’t like the idea of doing this in the dark. That little cave looks like as good a place to camp as any. What do you think?”

  “Looks safe enough. We can flee in two directions, and it should keep the rain off.” Trevor angled his Jeep’s wheels, backing it off the trail behind Jordan. He rubbed his lower back as he exited. “I know we’re supernatural badasses and all, but that drive tore up my back. These Jeeps suck.”

  “It is a rather awkward means of travel,” Anput said. She fished a large duffel from the Jeep’s back seat and headed into the cave. “I’ll get a fire set up so that those of you with a heartbeat can have dinner.”

  “Thank you,” Leti said stiffly. She followed Anput inside and began setting up a green canvas pup tent—as far from Anput as it could get without being outside the cave.

  Rain began to fall all at once, in an avalanche that drenched Jordan and Trevor. It rang off the Jeeps like giant drums, booming loudly enough that anyone within two miles who didn’t already know they were here sure did now.

  Jordan closed his eyes, raising his face to the rain. It felt good—warm. A damned sight better than the awful humidity, at least.

  “I have a feeling this is about to be the most awkward evening I’ve ever had.” Trevor paused next to Jordan, his backpack in hand. “They don’t like each other. And we don’t like each other. Probably not the four I’d have picked to head into the jungle with. You know, Blair would have loved this. He’s basically Indiana Jones, and the one time he’d get to find the lost city he chose to stay home.”

  “I get why. Blair has decided to take a stand. He’s taking up the role of Ark Lord. I’m still trying to learn what that means, and I know he is too.” Jordan reached into the Jeep and fished out his own pack. It weighed an easy eighty pounds, but he one-handed that without effort. Being this strong never got old.

  “Yeah, he made the right call,” Trevor said. “Besides, him going back means he’s with Liz.” He started toward the cave, but paused to wait for Jordan.

  “That’s where he should be,” Jordan said. “I hope those two get on with it. They’ve certainly waited long enough.” He tossed his pack against a rock.

  “Dude, that’s my sister you’re talking about,” Trevor protested. “Don’t make me climb a water tower to defend her honor.”

  “I’m pretty sure Liz can climb her own water towers, but point taken. Still, I think she and Blair are good together.”

  “They need each other, I think,” Trevor said. He sat down, cross-legged, and withdrew a .45 from his thigh holster. He swiftly disassembled the weapon, then reached into his pack for a well worn cleaning kit.

  Jordan withdrew his own sidearm, automatically beginning a nearly identical cleaning process. It was something soldiers did. Just like you’d yawn when you saw someone else yawn. Weapon maintenance saved lives, and every soldier who liked breathing tended to their weapon religiously.

  As quickly as it had started, the rain stopped. In its wake came a million dripping sounds, as water trickled down lush vegetation. It was pleasant, almost hypnotic. Jordan enjoyed it as he finished cleaning his sidearm.

  Then a piercing shriek split the silence—a weird, bestial wheezing noise. He started reassembling his weapon. Trevor did the same.

  “Tell me you know what that was,” Anput said. She stalked to the edge of the cave and peered out into the impenetrable jungle.

  “It is a mapinguara.” Leti rose from the tent and moved to join Anput. “You know they are close when you can smell the decay of the deep jungle. It is…unique. Few see a mapinguara and live, but I have heard them described. The smallest are taller than a man, and they can grow many times that size. They walk like a man, but they are covered in thick shaggy hair. Their arms are too long, and tipped with long claws. Their skin is said to be so tough that nothing can pierce it, and the older they get the tougher their hide.”

  “How old is the one we just heard?” Jordan asked. He was very glad they had Leti with them. Nothing beat local intelligence.

  “That one was young. It was screaming at the rain. Mapinguara hate water. They will not cross a river, unless it is very shallow.” Leti looked up at him, and he could see the concern. “If it is one, we are likely safe. If it is part of a herd, then we must flee. Many champions have thought to test the legend of the mapinguara, and the few who return usually will not speak of it.”

  “They have to have heard the rain hitting the Jeeps,” Jordan said. “We either stand our ground or abandon the Jeeps and cross the river. I say we stand our ground. Three of us can blur, and Leti can walk the shadows. We set a watch, and if one of these things gets close we’ll decide how to deal with it. We can run if we need to.”

  38

  Mapinguara

  Trevor leaned against the moss-covered boulder, shadows wrapped tightly around him. So far as he knew, other than Blair’s ping ability there was no way he could be detected.

  Of course, the very fact that Blair had the ability showed that it was possible, so Trevor took no chances. He stayed vigilant, listening to the jungle.

  It loomed outside the cave, a mass of shadowy shapes only visible because of his enhanced vision. Insects and spiders crawled across tree trunks, but nothing larger than a human fist. An anaconda slithered past, the jungle going silent around it. He even spotted a large cat in a distant tree. Jaguar, maybe?

  During that first watch, Trevor had plenty of time to think. About Anput and her work on a modified virus. About Jordan, and the fact that most of the heat had gone
out of his animosity. Trevor respected the man, even if they weren’t friends. They’d become allies, and that was probably a good thing for this new world they were building.

  “I find it interesting,” came Anput’s disembodied voice, “that Isis added the need to sleep to her virus. It wasn’t present in the original deathless strain, nor in my father’s modified strain. She added a weakness, and I have never understood why. I mean look at the Ka-Dun. Jordan is an Ark Lord, yet right now he is as helpless as an unblooded. It makes no sense. The only quote I’ve heard from Isis was that she felt it preserved the human soul.”

  Trevor considered that. Was she being superstitious? He seriously doubted it. “Isis has lived longer than any of us, even you. Deathless can choose to sleep, but we aren’t forced to. We don’t have that limitation. Maybe when enough centuries pass that blurs your perspective. Maybe you can’t think like a normal human any more. Werewolves don’t age, but they eat. They sleep. They can mate. They’re still human, for the most part. Still connected to their former identity in a way I think we lose.”

  “I suppose there’s some merit in that,” Anput allowed. Trevor guessed she was no more than three feet away, but it was difficult to tell because she was enveloped in shadow. “If you were to tinker with your own virus, would you make the same change?”

  “That’s a good question,” Trevor mused. “The pragmatist in me says that would be a terrible idea.” He ran his hand along the golden boomerang David had given him, enjoying the weapon’s faint warmth against his cool skin. “Honestly, though? Yes, I think I would. I’ve only been deathless for a few months, from my perspective. I’ve already seen how it’s changed me, and I’m not sure I like all those changes. If I could reclaim a bit of who I was in life I think I’d leap at the chance.”

  A shrill shriek cut through the jungle, dropping a veil of silence. Even the insects ceased moving. Trevor stood poised, straining to hear anything. A cacophony of howling exploded in the trees all around their cave. Trevor spotted small forms flitting through the trees above.

  Trevor blurred to Jordan’s side to wake him, but the commander’s eyes were already open. The big man unzipped his sleeping roll, climbing swiftly to his feet. He was still wearing his combat boots. “It’s those damned monkeys again, isn’t it?”

  Leti had also risen, and was peering out into the darkness. “Yes, they are leading something toward us.”

  “I think we all know what they’re leading here,” Trevor said. He was still wearing the shadows, but neither werewolf jumped when he spoke. “There was an otherworldly shriek just before the monkeys.”

  “The mapinguara are not swift by our standards,” Leti said, “but they are faster than an unblooded. At least one will be on us soon. More if we are unlucky.” She fixed Jordan with an agonized stare. “I do not know what to do. If we stay and fight, we may die. If we run for the river we will arrive with no gift, and will not be able to make passage on the river.”

  “Can’t we just swim?” Trevor asked.

  Leti shook her head. “There are dangerous things in the water. We cannot risk it. We need a boat.”

  “Choice seems pretty clear,” Jordan said. “We need to stay and defend those Jeeps. If we get into real trouble, we’ll fall back into the jungle. If these things can’t blur, we should have no trouble outrunning them. Trevor, you on board with that?” He faced roughly in Trevor’s direction, his steely eyes roaming the shadows where Trevor lurked.

  We should flee, Trevor’s Risen whispered. There is no sense in risking our deaths.

  Trevor shimmered into view. “Yeah, I’m good with that. We’ve taken on some pretty scary things. Let’s see how we do against this mapinguara. If we’re going to be journeying through here for weeks, it will be good to know what to expect.”

  “I hope this is not madness,” Leti whispered. She was still staring out into the darkness, and winced when another shriek split the jungle. It was close now. The monkeys went into a frenzy of howls.

  “Child, if two Ark Lords cannot handle some unintelligent beast, the lot of us deserve to die.” Anput’s tone was sharper than Trevor was used to, putting the lie to her bold words. The vampire was frightened.

  Trevor summoned the shadows once more, moving silently to the far end of the cave. He scanned the tree line, waiting. The clearing, if it could be called that, was about twenty feet across. The mapinguara would need to cross that to enter the cave, so that was where they had to meet it. He didn’t know how tall these things were, but the cave was maybe eight feet tall. If the thing was large enough, they could use the cave defensively.

  The monkeys grew bolder, several darting down to touch the stones above Trevor. Something crashed through the jungle, tree branches snapping loudly as it pushed its way into the clearing. The jungle parted long enough for something hideous to emerge. A stench of rotting vegetation and something worse filled the cave, so awful it made Trevor’s eyes water. The stench worsened when the creature gave a deafening roar.

  It lumbered closer, approaching the Jeeps. A stray beam of moonlight fell on it, giving the creature some definition. It had thick shaggy fur, and a sloth-like face. Its arms were too long, sharp grey claws touching the earth as it approached. Trevor estimated it at about eight feet tall. It wasn’t quite as massive as a female werewolf, and it moved sluggishly, like it wasn’t in any kind of hurry to devour them.

  “How do you want to play this?” Trevor called to Jordan.

  “You’ve got that grey man weapon, right? See how it feels about being shot in the face.”

  “Yeah, Anput has one too.” Trevor obliged. He aimed the golden boomerang, willing energy to flow through him and into the weapon. He poured out as much as he could muster, trying to make this blast as powerful as the weapon could handle.

  Brilliant green light lit the clearing like day as the tips of the boomerang built up a charge. A deep hum filled the jungle, then the weapon discharged.

  It sent a bolt of crackling green energy right at the mapinguara’s face. The beast fell back half a step, its features locked in almost comical surprise. Then the beam washed over its face, drawing an ear-piercing shriek of pain. The scent of charred flesh now mingled with the awful stench, and Trevor heard Jordan gag behind him.

  Trevor kept his attention on his target. The mapinguara gave another shriek, but this one was more rage than pain. It scanned the cave entrance, its patches of steaming flesh still sending up tendrils of smoke, and lumbered forward, attention fixed on the only thing it could see: Jordan.

  Trevor shot it again, this time in the side of the head. The shot elicited another shriek, and the beast turned to face Trevor’s direction. Its eyes narrowed as it scanned the shadows, but it seemed unable to detect him. Trevor crept around the beast, studying the bald patch where he’d shot it the second time. That shot had done even less damage than the first—it had burned away fur, but the skin wasn’t even reddened. These things were damned tough.

  Jordan capitalized on the beast’s momentary distraction, blurring toward it from the cave. He shifted in mid-air, coming down on the mapinguara’s back. He worried at the creature’s neck with his fangs, but was about as effective as a puppy chewing on a shoe.

  The mapinguara’s arm shot out, seizing Jordan by the neck. It tightened its grip, and Jordan beat frantically on its arm as he struggled for breath.

  Trevor glided forward into a blur. Time slowed as he charged the mapinguara, dropping his shoulder like a linebacker. He took the beast behind the knee, ending the blur the moment he impacted.

  The blow knocked the creature to the ground, and it released Jordan. Jordan rolled backwards, raising both his arms. The mapinguara was suddenly lifted into the air, and it gave an angry bleat like some titanic sheep.

  Trevor was already rolling away, but the creature’s clawed hand sank into the back of Trevor’s leg. It dragged Trevor toward it, punching the claws of its other hand through his shoulder.

  He suppressed the pain, blurring into
a punch. His fist shot forward, but a fang-filled mouth opened in the creature’s gut. Razored teeth clamped down around his wrist, and Trevor gave a roar that was more shock than pain. He shifted into green mist, swirling into the shadows.

  Sluggish black blood flowed from the stump where his hand had been. It would grow back, but for now he was crippled.

  “I think I’ve got it,” Jordan called. He’d raised his arms higher, and the creature moved up about ten more yards. It flailed about, shrieking wildly as it sought to find purchase with its long arms. They tore at a few branches, but the mapinguara could do nothing but shriek as it rotated slowly.

  “Telekinesis is so handy,” Jordan said. He took another step back from the creature as one of its arms swiped the air near him.

  “It’s a temporary solution,” Anput countered. She’d retreated to the cave mouth and was watching the mapinguara warily. “Sooner or later we’ll want to leave, and you’ll have to let it go. It will just come after us again, right, Leti?”

  Leti’s voice came from the shadows in the cave’s recesses. “I’m afraid so. Now that it has the taste of our flesh it will never stop.”

  “Then we have to kill it,” Trevor said. “I have an idea about that.” He stepped from the shadows, and the mapinguara instantly swiped in his direction. The claws passed within a foot of him, and he leaned back slightly to avoid the blow.

  Bones popped as a new hand sprouted from Trevor’s wrist. It happened with incredible speed, flesh weaving itself around bone until his hand was completely regenerated. Trevor switched the boomerang to his newly regrown hand, and then leapt at the mapinguara. He punched it in the gut again, and as expected the mouth opened. Trevor blurred, at the same time pouring power into the boomerang.