by M L Bellante
“No!” he shouted as he pulled himself from the brink.
The creature continued shaking him, and just as the fog began to enter his mind again, he was tossed ten feet, slamming into something solid. Coleman lay crumpled against the trunk of a tree. He feared he might have a cracked rib, but he didn’t have time to worry about it now. He had to endure the pain for his life was on the line.
He still held his helmet and prepared to use it in his final, desperate defense. He knew he was getting the worst of this fight and, unless he ended it now, he’d be slaughtered. “Okay, you ugly sucker! It’s you or me this time. Bring your ugly face to me!”
He saw a flash of movement from his right so he swung the helmet as hard as he could. He felt it find its mark and the beast shrieked in agony. Coleman dodged to his side and the creature missed with its attack. Coleman jumped forward reaching out with his left hand, groping for the monstrous animal. His gloved hand made contact and he began pounding the beast repeatedly with his helmet. As he did, he began shrieking obscenities with each blow.
Coleman grabbed the creature’s leg and pulled hard, forcing the monster to the ground, and then he started beating it again, striking it several times. He laughed with maniacal glee as he pounded the beast over and over. He grabbed the rim of his helmet with both hands and, with the strongest hammer blow he could muster, slammed it into the beast, splintering the helmet. He heard a crack and the creature howled in pain, regained its feet, and ran away whimpering. Quickly, Coleman staggered to his feet. A flash of lightning revealed an empty battleground.
“Did that thing leave?” Coleman wondered aloud.
He ached all over and was soaking wet. His environmental suit was destroyed and his helmet shattered. He wasn’t breathing that hard, but each breath gave him a stabbing pain in his left side. The ache in his right arm began to grow more painful and was easily matched by the pain in his right thigh. He took a step, his left knee revolting in agony.
Coleman could tell that the rain was abating. Patches of a cloudless sky were filled by a few stars shining through the canopy. The glow from the sky increased until he began to see his surroundings.
“Well, it looks like a bright moon tonight.”
As his battlefield brightened, he began scanning the trees for low hanging branches. When he found one, he dropped his shattered helmet and started climbing the tree as far as his aching body would allow. At about twenty-five feet, he nestled into a wide ‘V’ in the trunk and, for the first time since his battle with the beast, he began to relax. Exhausted by the day’s ordeals, he leaned back into the tree trunk and attempted to make sense of his predicament.
“What was that thing, anyway?” he muttered aloud. He rested and thought, his mind reeling.
It was like a crocodile, but it wasn’t. It was more like a big lizard, he thought.
“Where do you find giant lizards?” He realized he was talking to himself, but he didn’t care. “The only giant lizards I’ve heard of are Komodo dragons. Are they really that big and that aggressive? Am I on some Indonesian island?” he blurted, his anger and frustration growing. “I should have listened to Megan. She warned me this could happen, but stubborn me wouldn’t listen. Now, look at the mess I’m in,” he grumbled.
He tried to calm himself and think things through. I’m in a fine fix now. I’m supposed to be the first human to ride the ripple. Dimensional harmonic transference, the techs call it. Yeah, Megan said misses still happen. She reminded me that three monkeys were ripped and lost before the first success with a living primate; the first three were gone and never located. The techs said the odds of a miss were low. Well, lucky me. Here I sit in some jungle; target missed by only 240,000 miles. When I get back to Houston, the lead tech better not cross my path for a month or he’ll need surgery to get my foot out of his . . .
The thought was interrupted by a loud call. He quickly realized it was only a monkey. “Okay, okay, calm down! First, you gotta get out of this jungle and find civilization,” he said, talking to himself again.
He slowly became drowsy and his mind began to drift. He cautiously fell asleep. Several times during the night, he awoke with a start when he thought he heard an aggressive sound. His battle with the beast had completely unnerved him. He had faced death before in combat, but, this was different. Struggling with a massive beast set on tearing him limb from limb was nothing he ever expected to face. Each time he awoke, a flood of questions entered his mind. What else lurks in the darkness? What will I face after the sun rises? Can I survive until I’m rescued? Where am I? Eventually, exhaustion overtook him and he got a few hours of sleep while propped up in the crook of the tree.
CHAPTER 2
MUNNARI EYES
Just as dawn began to break, a clap of thunder announced yet another deluge. He opened his eyes as he felt large drops of moisture begin hitting his face. This time he had little protection from the rain. His suit was in tatters and his helmet lay shattered on the ground. He felt water entering his suit through great gaps in its fabric. His boots began to fill with rainwater. Slowly and painfully he began to remove his mangled suit and waterlogged boots. His right arm and right thigh throbbed. His left knee ached and his left side rebelled with every breath. As the rain beat down, he started to snicker and then he began to laugh. He grabbed his side, searing pain burning there, and started laughing again.
I must be losing my mind. What an absurd situation I’m in. Is this someone’s idea of a joke? I’m supposed to be the first human dimensional traveler, so what the heck am I doing in this awful place?”
He calmed for an instant but soon began laughing hysterically again, at first with a low chuckle and then with maniacal chatter. After some time, he pulled himself together and realized that as pathetic as his situation was, self-pity wasn’t going to help him. He had to survive if for no other reason than to get even with the senior tech who got him into this fix. He leaned back against the tree trunk and slowly slid down into the tree’s crook in a depressed stupor.
After about an hour, the rain stopped. The sun was fully up now, and light filtered through the canopy of green. Coleman carefully examined his environmental suit. The backpack was gone; the belt had been torn away; the suit’s fabric was shredded in many places, and there were gaping holes all over it. He considered moving to the ground but a stab of fear shook him.
What if that monster is still down there, waiting for me? he wondered to himself.
He took a deep breath, felt a twinge of pain in his side, though not as bad as before. Maybe I don’t have a cracked rib after all. He began carefully and painfully climbing down from his perch. When he reached the ground, he stopped and listened. He could hear nothing threatening. He walked over to the spring and drank. He then walked around the area retrieving the scattered bits of his environmental suit. He found the homing beacon in the stream flowing from the artesian well. It was bent and crushed. The indicator light was off; the beacon had failed.
Now, what do I do? They’ll never find me in this place. Fear gripped his soul again as the thought of another night in this hostile place left him empty and hollow. He walked over to his shattered helmet. Staring down at it, he thought of how it had saved his life. “If it weren’t for you, my friend, I’d be history.” He reached down, picked it up, and slowly turned it in his two bare hands. It crumpled and parts began to fall to the ground. He dropped it and watched it roll under a large leaf. “I guess I’m on my own now for sure. It’s up to me to get myself out of this mess. When I get back to the Houston Plant, I’m going to strangle somebody!”
The more he thought about his situation, the angrier he became. But a hunger pang reminded him that something was more important than his anger. Food had been the last thing on his mind, but now he realized he needed to get some nourishment to keep up his strength. It looked like he was going to be stuck in this jungle for a long time.
“So, what’s there to eat around here, if anything?” He heard the hoot of a monkey hi
gh overhead and looked up. “I wonder what they’re eating.” For the next ten minutes or so he observed the monkeys moving in the branches. He noticed they would reach out with their long arms and grab a fruit pod hanging from the branches high above. He also saw an inquisitive monkey move into the crook where he had spent the night. The creature tentatively examined his environmental suit and poked at it.
“Leave it alone; that’s mine!” Coleman yelled. The monkey quickly ran up the trunk, stopped at a higher branch, and began hooting its discontent. Almost in slow motion, it reached out to a fruit pod, ripped it from its branch, and tossed it at Coleman while screeching in anger. The creature threw the pod with such accuracy and force, it caught Coleman unprepared and hit him squarely on the forehead.
“You hairy freak!” he yelled. He picked up the pod and threw it back as hard as he could. It bounced off the tree trunk and fell into the crook where his suit’s remains had been stored.
Now, that was stupid, he thought. That hairy ape offers you breakfast and you just toss it back.
Coleman began waving his arms and yelling. “Hey, you dumb ape. See if you can hit me again!” He felt something hit him in the back and he turned to look. A fruit pod hit the ground next to him and soon he was pummeled by fruit thrown from the hands of at least a dozen monkeys. Coleman picked up a fruit pod and tore it open as he had seen the monkeys do. He took a taste.
This one might be a little green. It’s bitter. I’ll try another. He found one that was redder in color, tore it open and took a bite. It tasted like a mix of strawberry and banana.
He lifted the pod above his head, waved it in thanks and continued feasting. He felt full after about six pods. “I hope these things don’t give me a bellyache. They don’t seem to bother the monkeys, though.”
Coleman collected the remaining pieces of his environmental suit and moved them to his less than secure hideout in the tree. He didn’t know if doing this was important, but he didn’t want to regret inaction later. As he rested in the notch of the tree, he noticed the monkeys moving toward the ground again.
It looks like they’re heading for their morning drink, he guessed.
They moved warily, the alpha male leading the way. Coleman remained in his perch for a couple of hours, watching the surrounding area. Several other types of odd-looking creatures moved to the spring and drank.
This seems to be a safe time.
Coleman knew he would have to depart this refuge soon. Since the beacon had been destroyed, he realized no one was going to come to his rescue. He would have to find his own way back to civilization.
Before he could leave, an unwelcome flash of lightning announced another downpour and for the next two hours, Coleman sat on his perch feeling miserable and alone, soaked to the bone. When the rain stopped, he decided to begin his trek, although he had no idea which direction he should go.
I’ll head east and hope for the best, he mused, aiming toward where he thought the sun had risen. First, I’ll need to collect a few of those fruit pods.
Slowly and painfully, Coleman descended the tree again. He found a downed branch that made an excellent walking staff and maybe even a decent weapon. Then he grabbed a shorter stick and heaved it into the branches above. The monkeys howled and hooted in protest and began pelting him with fruit again.
“Lunch is served. Thank you, my furry friends!” he yelled to the monkeys. They responded with angry shrieks and howls. He worked his way around the tiny clearing, picking up the fruit pods and stuffing them into his orange jumpsuit. He saw a nice ripe one peeking out from under a fern leaf and bent down to collect it. As he reached for it, he noticed something move into his view near the fruit pod. He focused on it and, with a start, realized it was a person’s bare foot. He snapped straight up and found himself staring down into the brown eyes of a small man.
For an instant, their eyes locked, both widening in shock. Both men gave audible gasps as they jumped back in amazement. Coleman saw that the little man was holding a spear and was prepared to use it. His Ranger training kicked in immediately. He slapped the spear aside and charged the man, hitting him in the mid-section with a shoulder and driving him to the ground. Coleman’s right hand was at his throat. The man began making gurgling sounds as Coleman kept pressure on the intruder’s throat.
Kill him! a voice in Coleman’s head screamed. Kill him! There may be others. He’ll warn them. Kill him, now!
Coleman looked into the terrified man’s eyes. He had once killed a man with a bayonet and had watched as the man’s life drained away. He still suffered visions of that horror. The man he had killed was a known enemy. This one was not. In a split second, Coleman chose to let the man live. He released his stranglehold and the man sprang to his feet and darted off.
The intruder began shouting in words that Coleman didn’t understand—words punctuated with clicks and pops. He heard other shouts from all around him.
Coleman looked for an escape route and then he charged in a direction that seemed to be free of calls. He tore through the ferns, trees, and bushes. He scrambled over fallen branches and logs. Several times he tripped, but immediately jumped to his feet and continued his headlong rush. He could hear shouts from behind and the crashing sounds of pursuit. Birds and monkeys screeched and hooted their discontent with the chaos below them. Occasionally, fruit pods flew toward Coleman, but he paid them no mind. He didn’t know if the natives were friendly and he wasn’t going to risk of finding out, especially after nearly choking one of them to death.
He ran for what he guessed was at least thirty minutes. The shouts slowly subsided and then stopped altogether. Even the overhead creatures quieted down. Coleman relaxed a bit and reduced his speed to a fast walk. His heart was pounding in his ears, probably an adrenalin rush, but he was not out of breath. As part of his personal physical training program, he jogged five miles a day and knew how far he could go without feeling winded. He was surprised to find his physical reserves little depleted. He didn’t have any idea where he was going other than putting distance between himself and the natives.
As he walked, he began thinking about the person he had seen. The native was shorter than he was with tan skin and a wiry build. He was muscular and wore a loincloth of animal skin and a sheathed knife hung from his waist belt. His eyes were dark-brown, almost black in color and his long, dark-brown or black hair was held away from his face by a dark colored band around his forehead. His face sported no facial hair and there was a tattoo running horizontally down his cheek under his left eye: several simple, parallel lines that went halfway down the man’s cheek.
He recalled the unusual words he’d heard. They were in a language that was completely foreign to him; it included pops and clicks. Were there still wilderness tribes in Indonesia? He didn’t know. If there were, could they be dangerous? A chill ran down his spine as he recalled the battle for his life the night before, and he began to worry again about his ability to survive in this hostile land. His spirit dampened even further as he wondered if the natives would pursue him. He decided his best strategy would be to avoid getting captured.
He thought about his battle with the beast. He hadn’t gotten a good look at it, but he was sure it was something he had never seen before. He was an avid reader and had read a few books about the animal kingdom, but he couldn’t recall learning anything about the creature that had attacked him. It seemed almost prehistoric.
He quickly realized that he was letting his mind drift. That’s a good way to get yourself killed, he thought.
“Better focus on the here and now,” he said out loud. A flash of lightning announced the next downpour. In a few seconds, a crash of thunder reverberated across the land. “Oh great, another soaking,” he grumbled to himself.
The rain began falling in torrents. In no time, Coleman was soaked to the bone, again. The orange USE (undergarment suit environmental) clothing worn under the environmental suit was like wearing a sopping wet pair of footsie pajamas with non-skid soles. T
he foot covers had already been ripped off his feet by the rough terrain. He wanted to stop and find shelter somewhere, but he didn’t dare. The dread in the pit of his stomach forbade him from even slowing down. Onward he trudged, hoping the rain would obliterate his tracks. Thirst began to gnaw at his throat. He opened his mouth and tasted bitter water.
Why is the water so bitter? he wondered silently. He looked up and could see no opening in the green cover. There must be something on the leaves that makes it bitter, he guessed. I wonder if the stream and river waters are potable. Will I be able to find a spring like the other one?
He slogged along for another hour, slipping and sliding as he pressed on, his feet aching from the abuse. Fatigue began to erode his fear and he slowed his pace. An hour later, he stopped altogether. He found a hollow in the trunk of a large tree that provided relief from the drenching rain. He slumped to the ground and pulled his knees to his chest. For the first time since his arrival in the jungle, he felt cold. He began to shiver and could see his breath. He longed for his environmental suit, his comfortable flat in Houston near the He-3 power plant, and his close friends.
As he huddled in the tree’s hollow, he thought about his girlfriend, Megan Klosky. She was a junior tech on the rip team who had warned him about misses. Megan was adamantly opposed to him volunteering. When he offered his services to be the first dimensional traveler, she was so distraught, she left him.