Jungle Goddess

by Charles Nuetzel

  Carol was first to reach the shore on the other side of the river. She turned and waited until Rita came to her side, and helped the other woman up to the dry land.

  They watched as Barton swam toward them. He had a little over ten yards to go when Carol spotted an ugly reptile head skimming the water a short ten feet away from the hunter.

  "John!” she shouted, “behind you!"

  Barton didn't even turn, but seemed to redouble his efforts to make it to the shore in time. In the process he lost one of the spears, but that made it easier to span the rest of the distance.

  The crocodile shot quickly after the man, determined not to lose its afternoon meal. It was too close a chase for Carol to watch, but she couldn't keep her eyes off the drama taking place.

  With Barton alive they had little chance of getting beyond the next day alive—without him, they had no chance at all.

  It seemed an eternity, as if time stood still, as if every stroke the man made through the water were taking an hour to make.

  They watched, horrified, as the crocodile slowly closed the distance between itself and John Barton.

  Then, finally, the man reached the shore, threw the spear toward Carol, pulled himself up out of the water just as the crocodile was within reach.

  As he stood, the reptile lunged out after him.

  Carol swooped up the spear and stepped bravely forward. But what could she do against such a terrible creature with only a spear in her hand? As the crocodile opened its huge mouth, revealing a double row of jagged, deathly teeth, Carol rammed the spear into that gapping cavity and leaped away. The reptile slammed its mouth down on the wooden shaft, which snapped in two under the powerful vice of those horrible jaws.

  None of the trio watched to see what happened after that; they turned and fled into the jungle, attempting to get as much distance between themselves and the river. They hadn't gone far before the earth suddenly slipped out from under them, and like three trees, being sucked into the earth during an earthquake, they tumbled down into the dark cavity that had opened up under them.

  * * * *

  Tallie knew that she had to get the white man on his feet again. It could be only a matter of time before the natives discovered his disappearance and they would be in a holy rage; angrier than the gods when they did battle in the skies.

  She bent over the still form of Bob Lake and then turned him over. After examining his wounds, she discovered they were minor, though she washed them in the water. The man moaned, but remained unconscious until she splashed water over his face. His eyes fluttered, but nothing more. Tallie then shook him much like a jungle cat would shake its kill.

  A soft moan sounded from his lips and then slowly his eyes fluttered open. For a moment the man lay there as if dazed and unable to remember where he was. Then he saw the features of Tallie leaning over him and a crooked smile played on his mouth.

  Tallie felt an excited flutter rush through her. Now they could start again.

  She pulled on the man's arm and shoulder, attempting to raise him to his feet. He hesitated and then groaned. After a moment he stood and followed Tallie through the underbrush.

  They continued for a long time and Tallie kept thinking about the man following her. The thoughts were strange and new to her. The feel of the man, every time she touched him, was strangely enjoyable in an oddly overwhelming way. She found it all somewhat annoying.

  Finally they came to the small cliff side that broke out of the jungle. Here they could climb to a comfortable cave she visited from time to time.

  There was a narrow ledge that cut up the side of the cliff and up this Tallie led the man.

  The moment they were inside, Bob fell exhausted to the cave floor. Tallie watched him while he lay there, breathing hard, until the rising and falling of his chest had calmed and she was assured he was asleep.

  She examined the spear wounds in his chest and then left the cave to get some water and leaves that she knew had healing qualities that would soothe the cuts which had been inflicted on the man. They didn't seem serious—just painful.

  While she was gone from the cave, Bob stirred and rolled over. He was dreaming about Tallie. Then he felt hands moving over his chest and the thoughts faded away.

  Tallie cleaned the wounds and then lay the broad leaves over them, holding them down against the open cuts. She sat there for a long, long time, watching the man, enjoying the action of touching him. She ran her fingers along the hard muscles of his shoulders and arms, over his face.

  He was a good-looking god, she thought, pleased.

  She remembered the monkeys and the jungle animals, and most of all the matings of the village natives. She thought about such things and looked at the man lying asleep next to her and wondered if he might become her mate. They were the innocent thoughts of a virginal being that had never known anything other than the jungle life around her. She knew what took place between the wild beasts and the black men of the forest. Vague ancient memories—images that haunted her dreams—momentarily flashed in her mind of tall gods and goddess’ embracing, murmuring strange sounds that almost seem understandable. All these internal visions had puzzled her for as long as she could remember. They were vague and strange. Yet somehow seemed like memories rather than nightmares. They blended with the visions of natives mating in the bushes, monkeys, and beasts dancing out their courtships to final unions. She vaguely understood such things, but had never had a mate of her own.

  These thoughts teased her and she smiled silently while looking at this white man sleeping there near her.

  Yes, she decided, she would have him as a mate.

  It was as simple as that to Tallie. She knew that the jungle animals seemed to enjoy themselves in such casual, delightful acts and she knew that the natives seemed to highly enjoy mating; and most of all she enjoyed touching the man lying next to her—she enjoyed that very very much.

  Some lonely spark that had never been alive was beginning to flame within Tallie. Like all creatures of the world, she was no different in wanting the companionship of those of her own kind. Now, having been exposed, just this short time, to a male, she knew it to be good and nice and wanted it to never stop. A very strange thought, a very odd desire that nonetheless seemed quite natural. Tallie didn't question her feelings; just simply enjoyed them. She could do nothing else but delight in its seductive offerings. She mused them into a mental reality of what might happen, then smiled again.

  Life was a simple experience of moving from one living act to another—accepting whatever happened. Joy, pain, hunger, tiredness; all were a part of her everyday existence.

  The last thought in her mind, before sleep gently took consciousness away, was that she had a mate of her own, like all the others in her jungle world, and she was happy and content. It was that simple.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Barton was first to realize what had happened. The moment he hit the bottom of the pit he sprang to his feet, taking in the earthen walls that surrounded them.

  Rita screamed out hysterically, Carol lay still, where she had fallen.

  "Quiet!” John Barton demanded. “We're lucky this wasn't staked.” The very thought of the strong stakes, pointing upwards to impale anything that fell into the hunting pit, shot a shudder through John. After a quick examination, he discovered that it would be an easy matter to climb out, back on solid ground again.

  "Here, Rita ... I'll give you a hand."

  The woman had been quiet from the first word John had spoken and now she stepped up to him, hugging close. “'I'm scared. I know we won't get out of this alive. I know I'm going to die—and I don't want to die—oh, John ... John!"

  She hugged to him, shaking.

  John put a protective arm around her shoulder and felt a wave of tenderness ebbing through him. It was impossible not to be responsive. Spoiled, selfish rich girl—lost little child; lustful woman—it didn't matter! His natural instinct had built-in responses; and the woman was far from unattractive
!

  But this was hardly the time for such interludes.

  And this wasn't the time to entertain mental investigations into what drove Rita. Best to simply be aware she was unstable. What had happened in the hut between them had to be forgotten—it wasn't something he felt good about. Regardless.

  He gently held her. “As long as we're alive, Rita, there's a chance. We can't keep thinking about anything else. Keep telling yourself that everything will be all right! Believe that and you'll have the strength to continue. You have to believe it!"

  He looked down into her eyes and saw a sudden, slow change take place. It was as if she were gaining strength from him. Her jaw tightened and then she smiled.

  "Thank God for you, John. Help me up! Up there!” Her voice was sharp and level as she glanced at the edge of the pit above them.

  Barton lifted Rita up until it was possible for her to climb the rest of the way.

  John turned to Carol. From outward appearances she was no more than badly bruised, but unconscious. Though her shirt had been ripped open slightly, almost torn from her body.

  As he started to lift her, Carol's eyes fluttered and then opened.

  "You're all right,” John quickly told her. “We fell into a bloody pit some native tribe had dug for animals. Think you can stand?"

  She slowly came to her feet and then brushed herself off, as if it were important to keep her clothing clean. Then for the first time she seemed to realize her semi-nakedness.

  A red blush colored her cheeks as she turned away, presenting her back to him.

  She is a lovely woman, John thought, having actually noticed her full youthful breasts for the first time. How wonderful she looked. A very real surge of desire ebbed up through him; he tried to ignore it, but didn't want to. Carol sparked a core deep inside him which was far different from mere lust—yet that was there fully realized, too, by the vision of her standing there before him.

  "Here,” he said, starting to unbutton his shirt “You can wear this ... it's a bit large ... but it'll be better than nothing."

  Carol seemed to hesitate and then shrugged her shoulders. She turned and faced him, unembarrassed.

  "I guess this is a hell of a time to be modest,” she laughed.

  Rita's voice called down to them. It was sharp and nasty sounding. “What's going on down there?"

  She hadn't missed a beat and her eyes revealed she knew exactly what was going on.

  John looked up and saw Rita's face, which was hardened with raw, hateful jealousy. He almost laughed, because there wasn't really anything for Rita to be jealous about. He had no designs on either of them. He had no plans for anything other than survival.

  Only madness would suggest otherwise.

  Carol pulled on his tan shirt and then buttoned it over her breasts. Then John Barton lifted her up in his arms, then higher, holding her by the waist until she could reach the top of the pit and pull herself the rest of the way with Rita's reluctant help.

  Once Carol was standing beside Rita, John stepped back to the other side of the pit and made a short running leap. The first time he missed the top by only inches. The second attempt his fingers gripped hold of the edge and he dug his feet into the wall of earth next to his body. Straining every muscle, John pulled himself upwards until he was finally able to drag his body over the edge.

  Standing, he looked at the two women, and for the first time realized the full extent of their situation. Under the right circumstances, on an isolated island, with these two women, it would hardly be an undesirable exile!

  "Let's get started again,” he suggested, stepping past the women and moving to a tree, and reaching for a small branch that looked easy enough to break off. Once he had broken it off, he trimmed the foliage off and then turned, looked at the women.

  "This time ... we take it easier. We'll find a camp site and then I'll see about making some weapons ... a spear might come in handy, now and then,” he pointed out. Taking the stick he moved in front of the two women and then poked the ground in front of him. Every step he took was carefully controlled, testing. He didn't want to take the chance of running into another animal trap—this time possibly staked.

  They continued on for several hours until they came to a clearing next to a small brook. It was getting late and the sun was beginning to set on the western horizon behind them.

  John Barton chose this as a logical campsite. “You girls can take a bath, if you want ... and I'll start gathering wood for a fire and..."

  "Let me,” Carol offered, “get the wood. You can look for something to make a ... spear with."

  Rita was quick to follow Carol's suggestion and the three went about the business of organizing camp. They had gathered some fruits and berries along the way, and now devoured them hungrily.

  It was getting dark by the time Barton had a fire going. He sat by the small flames and started stripping the strong, thick shaft he had managed to get from one of the trees surrounding the camp.

  Carol had disappeared around a corner of the brush and undressed and was splashing in the small brook which just covered her body when she lay down in the water.

  Rita came up to John, stood over him. She knelt beside him, touching his bare shoulder.

  "What's with you and Carol?” Rita inquired, almost innocently.

  "What're you talking about?"

  "Oh, come on, I saw the way you all but fairly feasted on her naked breasts back in that pit! You're eyes—"

  "Stop right there!” he warned, stiffening. “This isn't the time or the place—"

  "Oh, I don't know about that,” Rita murmured quite seductively. “What's left outside of death? I'd rather die in ecstasy! If we don't survive ... what does it matter?"

  She laughed at that, a bit hysterically. “I'll admit it. I'm basic. Money is a powerful seducer! And what Rita wants ... she gets in the end."

  "Yes,” he admitted, “I suppose so, from most people. But money won't get you out of this situation!"

  "You mean: crappy situation!” Her words were bitter. Then her mood changed, becoming almost frightened. “Quite frankly, I am scared."

  He glanced at her, but the expression in her eyes was unnervingly brazen as they swept over his half naked body.

  She smiled, lips half parted.

  When he didn't say anything, returning his attention to stripping the shaft free of foliage, Rita gripped hold of his arm, tensing her fingers on the hard steel of his muscle. “You're strong, John. I like strong—I'm not that strong. I liked what happened ... back there ... between us! I'm frightened. I'm scared. I need your strength! In the way a woman need's a—"

  "Stop it, Rita! Wrong time, wrong place! And you know it!” he snapped, jerking his arm away from her grip.

  He refused to look at her.

  "Why, because of Carol? I don't think she would mind. Now why should she?"

  He looked stonily into her eyes. “Knock it off, Rita!"

  She winced as if slapped. Her whole frame went rigid and her eyes narrowed into slits. “Don't you dare tell me ... how dare you!"

  "Stop!” he warned as she started to move towards him. “Just stop playing games!"

  She frowned, then, again, the mood changed like the flipping of a coin: “I'm not playing games, dearie. Most people in this setting would screw their heads off!"

  She laughed throatily. “Well, people like me! Now don't tell me you aren't aware of that! In your line of business! A handsome man like you, John. Surely a lot of ladies have demanded your ... well ... special talents! I'm sure they expect the Big White Hunter, Big Bwana, to offer up those extra goodies ... that they paid for as part of the deal! And I kept that ... polite, if you noticed!” She laughed shrilly. “Now, ain't I nice?"

  "Cut it."

  She laughed at that, then added, almost in a stage whisper: “Come on, you deliciously big jungle beast!"

  She moved very close to him, suddenly, her hips slightly thrust forward. Her lips were upturned towards his.


  With another woman it might be different; or even with Rita under different circumstances. But here, and now it was a joke! No way.

  "Don't you want it?” she demanded, a sharp edge to her voice. She opened the top button of her shirt, then the second, almost exposing her breasts. He reached out and grabbed her hand before she could loosen another button. “Oh, how strong you are, John! You were so good! And you do want me, don't you?” She literally pressed herself against his hand. Her breast was warm, so soft, full and firm. “I need it, John, oh how I need it! You can't imagine how bad I need it.” Her voice was thick with hungry desperation.

  He attempted to back away, but she surged forward, against him, murmured softly: “And what Rita wants, Rita gets!"

  That last was a seductive mantra.

  She suddenly threw her arms around him. Her body caressed his. He could feel a naked breast against his chest. For only a moment it was almost impossible to resist.

  Very firmly, yet gently, he took her wrists and moved her back. “No!"

  Rita snapped: “How dare you!"

  Her face contorted in rage. For several moments she glared at him. Then she glanced over his shoulder, towards where Carol Hill had disappeared.

  "Its all her fault. You want that bitch! Of course! That's it!” she fairly screamed.

  He merely glared at her, not moving.

  "It is Carol, isn't it? She's had her eye on you all along. The little whore! And you want her!"

  He wanted to hit her, hard.

  "You'd screw her bloody ass off if she's offer it to you!” Rita fairly screamed at him, now quite hysterical.

  "What's wrong with you?” was all he could think of saying. Denying any interest in Carol would solve nothing. And he realized that Rita was right.

  "But you won't have her. John, you simply won't.” The woman suddenly arched forward, threateningly, eyes wide with fury. “I'd kill her first—simply that."