Fire Cult

by R. B. Shaw

  Fang finally emerged from the cave entrance. He still wore his wet suit and scuba tank and dragged the iron box out behind him. ‘Dave! That’s it, we got the lot!’

  Kless and the chief waited patiently until the two men separated. The chief planned his trap carefully. His men overwhelmed Fang while he was off-guard, struggling to remove his wet suit.

  Dave struggled through the jungle carrying the heavy gold-laden box. Kless chose his moment and crept up behind him while he stooped. He whipped away Dave’s pistol and shoved the muzzle of his Uzi behind Dave’s ear. ‘Move and you’re dead, Stark!’

  Dave turned carefully, but called Kless’s bluff. He took a small pace forward. ‘You haven’t got the guts to use that. There’ll be cops everywhere here soon.’

  Kless backstepped out of reach then played his trump card. ‘We’ve got the others … and the girl. Better to cooperate.’

  ‘Bullshit!’ Dave jeered and moved closer. ‘She’s safe back at Kaviak Hospital.’

  ‘So, you believed the scrap of paper I sent you this morning?’ Kless chuckled. ‘It was only meant to get you off my property and give us more time.’

  Dave paused, stupefied and cautious. His hesitation betrayed him. ‘Oh yeah. What was in it?’

  ‘I wrote it.’ Kless sneered, then to Dave’s horror quoted the text exactly.

  Dave realised he had been duped and his temper snapped. He lunged at Kless shouting a string of obscenities, but was beaten back and overpowered by Sangami. His teeth bared like a wild animal. His mouth frothed pink with blood and he trembled with rage. ‘You hurt her and by God you’ll regret the day you were born.’

  Kless ignored the threat, led Dave back to the group at the mouth of the cave and shoved him alongside Fang. He turned to the Sangami warriors. ‘Tie them up!’

  Fang butted in. ‘Where’s the others?’

  As he glanced at the chief, Kless smiled. ‘They’re off to a special party tonight. Sort of like a barbecue. Thanks for carrying out the bags of gold. We’ve been watching and waiting for some time now,’ he smirked and turned to the chief. ‘You said you’re not interested in the gold?’

  ‘I don’t need gold. All I want is the trespassers for the fires of Sangami, as agreed.’

  Kless could not believe his luck. ‘Do what you like with them, as long as they disappear.’ He turned back to his captives and laughed fiendishly. ‘Ah, Fang the Fireball and Dave Steak. Oh, pardon the pun, Stark.’ He then shouted to some nearby warriors. ‘Right, get the gold down to my estate house and hurry!’

  Kless spun around as the volcano again rumbled. A magnificent glowing fire fountain erupted above the caldera rim. The brilliant cloud of flame plumed skyward with terrifying splendour. Fanned by the sea breeze, it created dramatic bright orange fallout. Cooling downwind, it turned blood red and fell from the sky as airborne ash.

  As the chief busied himself securing his prisoners, Kless made ready to leave. ‘I’ll just see the gold is safely on its way, then check with my foreman to see if he found the girl pilot. I’ll visit you again at the pit later to make sure everything’s okay.’

  After Kless left, the chief force-marched Dave and Fang up a rough trail to the sacred site of the Sangami firepit. The climb led them over a perimeter wall of boulders and dark lava chunks to the edge of the support matrix. The elaborate mesh of saplings had been lashed with vines to form the platform above the large sinkhole. Jake and Seiji remained trussed back to back at the centre of the sacrificial grid. Dave looked around for Jan and Ted. No sign of either. Hideous charcoal blackened carvings stood around the pit like sentinels. They had large carved lips, shells for eyes and boar tusks. All were emblazoned with white lime and ochres, images of evil fashioned in wood.

  The sorcerer appeared. Bright red bands underlined his eyes and lips. There were rare silver leaves decorating his headdress and his body shone with oil to deter evil spirits. Trinkets of tortoise-shell and mother-of-pearl rattled against noisy bandoliers of small cowry shells on his chest. He took one look at the two new prisoners, sneered with contempt and ordered them trussed together on the platform.

  At nightfall, Kless returned for his final visit. ‘Just want to make sure Stark and his men won’t cause me any further trouble. Can’t stay long—the gold should be at my estate by now.’ He glanced at the captives then spun back angrily. ‘Where’s the old bastard?’

  The chief was dreading this moment. His carbon black face revealed brooding eyes starkly underlined with white lime. ‘He escaped into the bush on the way up,’ he mumbled reluctantly.

  ‘What! Why didn’t they kill him?’

  ‘My warriors cannot harm him. As a survivor of the ceremony, he is untouchable. There was nothing I could do.’

  ‘Bullshit! That old fool is as shifty as a shark. No excuses next time—I want no loose ends or witnesses. Make sure you get Frazer and I’ll get the girl.’

  ‘It will be done.’ A long feather hung horizontally through the chief’s nose and a band of cuscus fur circled his head. His ceremonial headdress carried plumes of bouncing feathers. ‘By tradition we cannot fire the pit until the moon touches the volcano rim, just before dawn tomorrow.’

  Kless grunted at the delay. ‘Just make sure you get rid of ‘em and the old bastard too.’

  Dave and Fang sat forlornly on the grid. A young meri approached in the dark and checked their bonds. Her face displayed bright red paint; stark white circles surrounded each eye, outlined in black carbon. The white and black stripes covered her lips and formed dotted tear trails below each eye to the turn of her jaw.

  Dave looked again at the familiar face and with a sudden shock recognised the smooth aquiline features beneath the disguise of gaudy artwork and mud-smeared-skin. ‘Jan! How the hell did you get here?’ he almost shouted, but pulled back his volume in time.

  ‘I found an evacuated village and used the clothes and paints to disguise myself,’ she explained as she cut through the rope on their wrists and ankles. ‘I can’t get to Jake or Seiji—they’re too far out on the platform and the cult chief is strutting around over there giving orders.’

  Dave kept motionless. ‘Wait till it’s totally dark and we’ll slip away to that ridge above. We’ll work out a plan from there.’

  Small fires burned in a circle around the pit boundary, focus of attention for the cult warriors. Jan supplied Dave and Fang with large tapa cloth blankets to conceal their western garb. They waited until the cult were preoccupied, then quickly made a silent escape in the cover of darkness.

  After scrambling up the nearby ridge, Fang looked down on the chanting cult. ‘Dave, it’s gettin’ late and there’s a lot of preparation goin’ on down there.’

  Dave suddenly stood up. ‘Yeah, this’s gone too far. I’m going to Kaviak and bring the cops back up here in the chopper.’

  Fang turned, surprised. ‘How you gonna do that?’

  ‘I’ll sneak back to the mining trail and take the Thunderbox or Yamaha.’

  Jan showed concern. ‘You can’t go. The cult warriors will be looking for you and Fang. It’d be safer for me to go dressed as a native. They’ll be looking for two big European men.’

  Fang turned to Dave. ‘Jan’s right—it’s less than two kilometres. She’s got a much better chance. If anything does happen here, it’d be safer for us to stay and attempt a rescue.’

  Dave hesitated, he had only just got Jan back and after thinking he had lost her forever was reluctant to send her off on her own again. Rather than argue with them, he conceded, realising it would be safer to get Jan away from the dangers of the cult. ‘Okay, we might be forced to intervene here, Jan. I’ll draw a rough map so you can find where we hid the vehicles. Go straight to the police and bring them directly here in the chopper.’

  Even in the dim light, Jan saw Dave glancing at her and felt the renewed emotional bond. She too realised it might be the last time they would see each other. She kissed Dave goodbye and strode carefully down the dark trail. The searching war
riors made a lot of noise, probably high on booze and betel nut. It made it easy to avoid them and she crept quietly through the thin bush alongside the mining trail. It took a long time to locate the hidden Thunderbox and Yamaha. A group of warriors had already set up a camp nearby and she waited patiently. Starting either vehicle would expose her position.

  Reluctantly, Jan rethought her options. She could not walk the ten kilometres to Kaviak airstrip before morning. The thought of being alone in that jungle now terrified her. Less than three kilometres away, directly down an easy trail lay Rimbula Plantation. Kless had absolute power in this region. She heard he arrogantly left the ignition keys in his vehicles. He would be preoccupied with the gold anyway. It would be risky by moonlight but easier going through neat rows of coconut palms. Even if she had a torch, its beam would give her position away. After avoiding the searchers Jan followed the mining trail, eventually finding a copra track that could only lead to the drying kilns near the estate house.

  Except for the rustling of palm fronds, Rimbula Plantation seemed quiet. Nearer Kless’s estate house, a group of drunken men argued within sight of the carpark. Thwarted, Jan looked around for other opportunities. Kless’s jetboat rocked gently at its mooring near the wharf. Jan crept away from the noisy group, around the house and down to the beach. She carefully climbed aboard, relieved to find no keys would be needed.

  Jan slipped the mooring line and paddled the jetboat well out of earshot, then started the engine. Idling quietly through the reef and safely out of sight, she let down her hair and rolled down the legs of her jeans. She discarded the native blouse and rubbed the ochres from her face. The full tropical moon lighting the smooth sea acted both as a curse and a blessing. It helped her avoid reefs and coast, but left the jet boat very visible to anyone ashore. Jan opened the throttle and powered beyond the reef. The safest option was to stay offshore from Tali Island, then turn into shore only when she saw the lights of Kaviak.

  Dave and Fang gazed down on the Fire Cult from the ridge. Warriors danced around the pit with barbaric vigour, singing a melancholy chant. The dim firelight highlighted weals on their chests, scars from ancient ritual worn with pride. The scars resembled crocodile bites to ensure the bearer inherited the predatory powers of the wily reptile. Chanting warriors diverted to the surrounding tiki torches to light oil-soaked torches and head caps. Other warriors had their dark bodies painted with white skeletons and realistic skulls across their faces. The vague silhouettes of bats and huge flying foxes soared overhead. Most spanned over a metre, like wandering black spirits set against the dark blue heavens.

  Dave felt concern as he watched the activity around the pit below and turned to Fang. ‘We’ve got to work out a plan to rescue Jake and Seiji.’

  ‘Gonna be tricky,’ Fang warned. ‘We’re in deep shit if the chopper don’t arrive in time.’

  ‘Without weapons, a direct attack is hopeless. There’s too many of ‘em.’ Dave had no intention of giving up. ‘Maybe some sort of diversion.’

  Fang studied the warriors below. ‘One thing, they’re not expectin’ trouble. Only a few of ‘em are armed and others are still out lookin’ for us. Still, all we can do is wait until the chopper gets here then make our move.’

  ‘And if it doesn’t?’

  ‘Up to you,’ Fang shrugged. ‘What do you wanna do?’

  ‘If it looks like there’s hint of them lighting the grid, we’d better close in. Two of them have Wuvulu battleaxes. We’ll target one each and try to break through the others that are unarmed. If we get sprung, at least it might delay things and give Jan more time.’

  ‘Sounds suicidal, but we’ll hafta give it a try.’ Fang felt uneasy. ‘I knew you were an adrenalin freak—looks like ya got a death wish as well.’

  Not far away, Ted spent his limited freedom evading his pursuers. He could not find Jan or the rest of Stark’s group. His fruitless hunt finally forced him up into the volcanic foothills. He could hear the distant activity near the sacred pit. The temptation to face up to the source of his demented nightmares tormented him. He finally looked down on the primitive rites and the gathering below. From the ridge top he rested safely out of sight of the Fire Cultists, unaware that Dave and Fang waited only 200 metres away.

  With conflicting emotions, Ted stared at Seiji and Jake. They still sat trussed back to back amid the native corpses on the wooden platform. Consumed by his fear of fire, Ted realised it would be a formidable task to rescue them. The ring of fires around the perimeter of the pit looked as impassable as the tallest barbed wire fence.

  Long ago, Ted had been a coward and other brave men had died. Though terrified, he made a determined vow not to let that happen again. If only he could do something to help, but too many warriors gathered below. Escaping the Fire Cultists would only be his first task. He knew Kless’s men still scoured the lower slopes near the plantation. There must be an answer. There was one possibility … maybe. He remembered Joe’s description of the trek over the volcano. Jan’s video still remained vivid in his mind, enough to identify and backtrack the trail. The elevated pathway on the Devil’s Slide would be unavoidable. The observatory hut near the volcanic crater would be easy to locate.

  Ted took a swig of scotch and one last guilty look at his friends on the sacrificial platform below. He trembled and turned away from the evil pit that had tormented his life. The lonely old soldier thought briefly about Richard, then limped silently up the dark trail toward the hut and safety.

  50

  Dave cursed as he watched the primitive ceremony below. ‘Where the hell is Jan and the chopper?’

  ‘Shoulda been here by now. Somethin’s gone wrong.’ Fang shook his head. ‘We might hafta make our move—activity around the pit’s increasin’.’

  Dawn approached. The chief glanced at the pearly moon. By tradition, the sacrificial platform must be torched as the moon touched the contour of the volcano. The bodies on the platform must rise from the dead and escape their fate. The living would burn or fall to their death. He pointed at the volcano and shouted an incantation so loud a cloud of disturbed bird life scattered from the nearby foliage. The volcano again stirred. The ground trembled with a deep inner rumbling, as if the pagan gods inside ground huge boulders about in some sadistic game.

  Fang heard a distant familiar sound. ‘Dave! I can hear the chopper!’

  ‘It’s about bloody time,’ Dave huffed. ‘We can’t wait any longer. Looks like they’re ready to light the edge.’

  Skeletal painted warriors wearing flaming caps cavorted among the corpses and captives on the sacred grid. They ran around the pit and platform waving blazing tiki torches. Without warning they set fire to the edges.

  Dave and Fang made ready to move as the noisy chopper swooped low overhead. The brilliant Nitesun searchlight formed an illuminated pencil beam in the smoky haze above the pit. The brilliant beam reduced highlighted figures to fuzzy featureless silhouettes.

  Jan lowered the winch cable as she hovered low over Jake, Seiji and the hideous corpses.

  ‘What’s she doin’?’ said Fang.

  ‘Clever! She’s using the rotor downwash to blow the flames and smoke out and away from Jake and Seiji,’ Dave advised.

  The silver thread of the sling cable swung around within reach of the trussed figures. The firepit began drawing methane gas—an insidious blue flame developed.

  Fang shouted. ‘Dave, their hands are tied—there’s no way they can get hold of the sling.’

  ‘Let’s go!’ Dave broke into a run. ‘We gotta get out on the grid somehow and release them while the helicopter’s got everyone’s attention. You take out the closest guy with the axe. I’ll get the other. We’ll make a dash straight for Jake and Seiji.’

  The cult milled about in confusion. The alien presence of the noisy helicopter and its sinister beam of piercing light took all their attention. The rotor blast flattened the flames, forcing the smoke cloud out and away from the platform. None noticed as Dave grabbed the armed
warrior, punched him to the ground and grabbed his axe. Fang ran out of luck. The second warrior turned and struggled determinedly, long enough for the chief to spot the intruders. In the intense heat the chief turned and shouted. Fire Cult warriors armed with spears quickly surrounded Dave and Fang.

  A banshee howl briefly drowned the din of the hovering helicopter. The sorcerer stood transfixed at the base of the trail leading up to the volcano. He stared wide-eyed at an approaching figure. His long bamboo finger extensions accentuated the sudden tremble of his hands. Native warriors with flaming caps began to jabber and back step. Dave and Fang struggled, hemmed in and not understanding the disruption. Lesser warriors dropped their weapons and ran off in panic. All eyes followed the silver alien emerging from the bush. Dave, Fang and some wiser cultists waited, not so easily fooled. They knew who wore the silver suit, the limp unmistakable.

  ‘Christ’s sake, Dave!’ Fang swore aloud. ‘That’s Ted in the firesuit!’

  Tradition demanded survivors of the pit ritual must never be harmed. Others recognised the silver suit and acted confused. They thought Joe had returned from the dead. The chief shouted a string of orders. Warriors’ sweating bodies gleamed like polished mahogany as they levered at the chunky lava wall with stakes, hoping to obstruct the silver demon. The avalanche of rock tumbled down the slope, but fell harmlessly past the silver alien into a nearby gully. To the bolder warriors it was another bad omen. They too discarded their levers, then fled to join the others in the bush.

  The sling of the helicopter dangled uselessly around Jake and Seiji. Ted assessed the situation and hesitated briefly in the firelight. Despite the protection of the insulated firesuit, it took all his willpower to suppress his revulsion of fire. He limped carefully out onto the dangerous burning grid, confident in the knowledge he would be immune to retaliation. Blue flames engulfed him, the silver of the nomex firesuit starkly illuminated in the brilliant beam of the helicopter’s searchlight. The few remaining Fire Cult warriors silently let him go, in reverence and awe. They watched confused, not knowing if this formed part of the ceremony. Hampered by the restrictions of tradition, the Sangami chief reacted too late.