Rocks tumbled down the mountainside behind me and I wheeled around. Silas did the same, yelping. That sneaking sensation of being watched crept up my spine once more, but I laughed it off. Just like every other time I’d felt it there was nothing to be seen, just rolling pebbles knocked loose by our clumsy feet. Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not trying to get you, my mind warned. I tried not to listen.
I turned my gaze back to the waiting jungle. In a far-away expanse, a plume of smoke rose. It was as ominous a sign as I’d ever seen. “Must be the locals,” I muttered, and Silas dug his paws into the dirt. “Guess we’ll go around them, then.”
With a hard swallow to collect my strength, I started down the knoll. The closer we got to the tree line the louder the sounds of nature became. By the time we reached the barrier it was a deafening orchestra of rubbing legs, chirping throats, and scurrying bodies. There seemed to be something almost erotic about the noise, as if all life had thrown itself into a wild, sexual frenzy. Come to me, the clatter supplicated, we only want to live, to seduce you, have you, take you. The primitiveness of these thoughts caused me to shiver, and I thought of Wendy. Yes, there was something seductive about it…but something even more seductive waited back home.
Silas barked, his tail wagging furiously.
“Yeah, thanks,” I replied. “It’s good to know you’re in charge.”
I picked up my feet and stepped over the threshold. The jungle enveloped us.
40
We pushed through the muddle of vegetation with caution. Thick, wet leaves slapped my face and my feet kept getting stuck in twisted clumps of vines. The noises around us reached a crescendo that stung my eardrums. It hurt so much that I could only wonder how Silas dealt with it.
Bear it he did, though, and then some; he acted like the racket didn’t bother him in the slightest, constantly moving forward with his nose to the ground, taking the time to piss on a tree trunk, sample some moss, or happen a quick glimpse in my direction. He moved with such single-minded confidence that I allowed him to take the lead, which was good for me seeing as I had no clue where we were going.
My foot caught beneath an arched root and I slipped. I reached up, flailing for whatever I could get my hands on to stay upright. My fingers wrapped around a slick vine. Though my hands slipped a bit, the greasy cylinder held strong and allowed me to find my footing. Breathing a sigh of relief, I released the vine and bent over, trying to slow my heart rate.
Silas let loose a primal howl. I jumped back, startled. Just as I did so a huge, colorful object that looked like a partitioned lampshade fastened to a rippling green membrane fell from above, striking the ground where I’d stood only a second before. I froze as the thing shuddered a moment, before gradually lifting itself up and turning to face me.
The thing I thought to be a lampshade was actually a wreath of leathery, serrated petals. Each petal sported a different color – deep purple on one side to an almost luminescent yellow on the other, with the entire spectrum of the color wheel in between. The petals formed a funnel, and from the middle of this cone appeared an eyeless, nose-less, teardrop-shaped head. It was at least two feet wide and dark green, the color of the vines. The head split in the middle as if on a hinge, revealing a set of dull brown teeth that looked like sharpened stones. It was the perfect jungle assassin, waiting high above for some unsuspecting schlep like myself to grab hold of its long, plant-like body. A lengthy green tongue materialized from between its teeth and licked the air. The head swung from side to side, led by that tongue, until the rows of sharp teeth snapped at me.
I felt a sharp pain in my butt and my body was yanked backward just as the thing lurched. I stumbled, struck my knee against a knotted root, and screamed. Silas, his teeth firmly implanted in my ass, let out a frustrated growl.
I turned around in time to see the tree-creature coming at us, its cylindrical body descending from the tree, foot by rubbery foot. As it approached, slithering across the jungle floor with the dexterity of a sea serpent, the tail end lagged behind, gliding over the branch supporting its weight. There seemed to be no end to the thing, and while I continued to back away, hoping to reach a safe distance, it occurred to me that no place was far enough. The monster would follow me, continuing its circuitous advance on its mile-long belly, until I made one fatal mistake.
Then, that mistake happened.
I tripped on the underbrush again and stumbled. My left hip smacked a tree, joining my right knee in mutual throbbing pain. I dropped to the ground, feeling the decayed earth saturate the rear end of my Paul Nicely jeans. My hands, held straight out to ease my fall, sunk into the muck. A disgusting stickiness inched over my wrists and up my forearm. My stomach wretched, as much from disgust as fear.
My pursuer hovered over me like a giant, multihued cobra. It widened its jaws, exposing those sharp teeth, and then snapped. A stream of malodorous saliva shot from its roiling tongue and struck the side of my face. The liquid stung my flesh and possessed the familiar, stomach-turning scent of maggots. I collapsed, shrieked, and yanked my hands from the slime with a wet pop, holding them in front of me in the hope that I could catch the thing when it attacked.
The creature reared back in preparation for the fatal strike. Just then a blur streaked from the left. It dashed across my vision, struck the monster at full speed, and they both vanished beneath the thick ground cover. A series of low, aggressive snarls accompanied the sounds of a struggle.
I rolled over, propped myself up on all fours, and panted. I inched forward and peered through the foliage. A few short feet away, two savage beasts were locked in a mêlée. One was Silas, black fur standing on end and lips peeled back to expose his many teeth. My boy hopped around the vine-snake, deftly avoiding its snapping jaws while simultaneously ripping into its hide when the eyeless head zoomed past. The creature’s fibrous skin was cleaved away in mouth-sized patches, revealing the pulsating blue, green, and red muscle tissue beneath. The vine-snake let out a hiss and lunged again, this time missing Silas by more than a yard. My fearless protector took the opportunity to strike once more, leaping onto the creature and burying his teeth into the joint where head met body. A stream of reddish-brown fluid erupted from the wound. Silas stayed on the offensive, violently jerking the thing from side to side in an act of primal aggression I’d never thought him capable of. The vine-snake, clearly dying, wrapped itself in knots, trying without success to pry away from Silas’s death-grip. The thrashing slowed with each passing moment until finally, with a shudder, the colorful head dropped to the ground and fell still.
I stood up, knee and hip throbbing, and approached the scene. Silas stood there, hunched over, his teeth still clamped down, his body trembling. He seemed afraid to loosen his grip. I went to him cautiously; the last thing I wanted to do was startle him, and have his newfound hostility turned on me.
I should’ve known better than to fear him, for as soon as I neared, his body relaxed. He let go of the creature’s neck, straightened out, and shook his barrel frame the way he would after a dip in the lake. Droplets of blood and saliva rained from his head and upper torso. He then stopped, licked his paw, and looked up at me. His tongue popped out of his mouth and that comical doggy grin came over his face. He hopped up and down on his front paws, bouncing atop the slain carcass. I got on one knee and put my hand out, allowing him to rub his head against my palm. It felt like he’d gotten into a fight with Silly Putty, but I didn’t care. The whole experience was surreal, as if to him the violence was so far in the past that it didn’t matter any more. He was Silas again, my faithful companion and only friend in the world. Despite the layer of glop covering him, I bent over and kissed his nose.
“I love you, boy,” I said, fighting back tears.
* * *
Silas and I sat for a few minutes while I calmed down. When my tears waned I glanced at the dead thing and grabbed Silas by his dangling jowls.
“What do you say we check this guy out?” I
asked. “I’m kinda curious.”
He agreed.
Already the leathery green flesh covering our assailant had begun to fade, becoming a dull shade of tan. Bubbles popped on its hide, releasing noxious gasses. Small bumps squirmed beneath its skin, and I imagined tiny parasites burrowing in, rushing off to devour any palatable matter before the heat and humidity spoiled it. It’s like a nature show played at a thousand times normal speed, I thought. The notion made sense in a nonsensical sort of way, especially considering everything I’d seen and experienced over the last three days. though there was no way I could justify it logically.
I patted my leg and Silas followed me as I traced the creature’s rapidly decomposing body. Its tubular structure was only a half-foot wide, at most, a form that went against everything I knew of physics. Something so narrow shouldn’t have been able to support a head the size of a horse’s.
Its length seemed to go on forever. As we followed it, I was amazed at how far backward I’d retreated. What I originally thought to be only few steps was actually close to fifty yards. When we reached the tree from which the thing had first attacked I glanced up to see part of the carcass wedged in a crook between two branches. It wrapped around the tree trunk and fell to the other side. I placed my hand on the tree and peered around it, seeing that the tail finally ended in what looked like a hand with suckers for fingers. There was a bulge in its form, and whatever it had been stretched the skin to the point of virtual transparency. I made out the shape of a head and shoulders, knees and feet. A humanoid form, nothing but skin and bones now, close to being evicted from its devourer’s body. I swallowed hard and glanced at Silas, who stared back at me, blithely unaware.
“You wouldn’t happen to know what this means, would you?” I asked.
He panted.
“Didn’t think so.”
I swallowed hard and turned around. There was nothing I wanted more than to get away from the quickly moldering carcass. It was simply too strange, too otherworldly, for me to accept. So I did the next best thing. I whistled and put one foot in front of the other, trying to get the image out of my mind.
It worked so well, I didn’t even mind that I was whistling Art Lonnigan.
41
Dusk came much earlier than I expected, and the wheezing screech that greeted us when we stood on the side of the Crystal Mountain sounded off again, now close enough that I could almost feel the hot breath of the monstrosity that caused it. Those that dwell in darkness don’t come out during Orval, Kaiser had said. I hoped his statement was accurate.
I stopped moving, ground my fists into my hips, and sighed while Silas pranced about me, wagging his tail. Tendrils of slobber dangled from his tongue as he panted. I rolled my eyes. He barked.
“Hold on,” I muttered. “I’m thinking.”
Where to go? We’d been trudging through the jungle for a long time – two hours, maybe three – and other than the debacle with the vine-snake and the constant noise, life hadn’t made itself known. Not to mention the fact that my throbbing hip and knee made each step an essay on pain. It felt like we were going in circles, and the maddening thing about circles is they never end. Moving in that way wasn’t ideal for completing our task.
“What do you think?” I asked Silas. “Which way now?”
He sat down and looked over his shoulder, in the direction of the barely noticeable, failing light. I nodded. “West it is.”
The longer we stayed in the jungle, the louder the sounds of the insects became. Distant treetops bustled with activity, hopefully from birds innocently finding shelter for the night and not another stalking, exotic predator. The vines and undergrowth became thicker. My feet were constantly ensnared on the webbed greenery, slowing my progress. Silas, for his part, hopped about easily, traversing the obstacle-filled land as if it was second nature. That made me more than a little jealous, even more so because the weight of the rucksack wore me down, making my bruised legs burn and my shoulders sting. I took a swig of water, and exhaustion washed over me. I needed rest, and soon.
In the moment when I reached the point where I thought I couldn’t go on, I saw something that lifted my spirits. Black squares shone through a gap in some foliage, reflecting the last of the dying sunlight. I paused and followed Silas’s lead as he approached the hidden construction.
It was a large, rectangular structure, its shape revealing itself from the backdrop of the jungle like a chameleon. I took my knife and cut away the vines that covered it, grinning.
“This is promising,” I said aloud.
The sky grew even darker as I worked at clearing away the rest of the foliage, which came off in huge, roped-off, purposefully placed chunks. I uncovered a door, solid oak, with an empty space at the top where surely a window had been at some point in time. The prospect of spending the night indoors filled me with a renewed sense of vigor. A bed? Shelter? Oh boy! It didn’t matter if the place looked like it hadn’t been occupied in a century. Now it was mine.
When I finished the chore of clearing off the brush and reached for the doorknob, Silas whimpered. I turned around and saw him facing away from me, looking up a hill. “What’s up, boy?” I asked. He didn’t respond to me – instead he started up the rise as if I didn’t exist. I put the abandoned house out of my mind and followed, hoping I wouldn’t lose him in the expanding darkness.
As luck would have it, he didn’t go far. At the top of the hill, where the trees were tightly packed, creating a virtually continuous wall of bark, he stopped. A strangely familiar, piney scent reached my nose. A campfire. My heart rate kicked up a notch. I remembered the plume of smoke I’d seen rising from the jungle when we stood at the foot of the Crystal Mountain. This had to be the source. If what Paul had written was correct, that wasn’t a good thing.
I reached the crest and knelt down. Silas crouched there in silence, the corners of his mouth turned down in concentration. From beyond the snarl of ferns and saplings a sound emerged, low and guttural, even a bit jovial. It sounded like talking.
I parted the wall of green and peered through the crack. Silas followed my lead, shoving his head in beside mine, almost pushing me out of the way. A pair of asses swathed in ragged jeans greeted our eyes, standing only a few inches in front of our hiding spot. The two figures had long, blondish hair that hung down to the middle of their backs. They spoke to each other in voices so soft that I couldn’t make out what they were saying. Then they moved away from the trees. As they parted, a clearing and fire pit were revealed.
At least thirty people gathered around the roaring blaze. Its intense light cast everything with a yellow glow, exposing the faces of those in attendance. In that instant I knew this wasn’t a place I wished to stay for very long.
My brain wanted to call them people because that was the only term it could come up with to describe them on such short notice. Their appearances belied sex. All had long, ragged hair and each face was a living disaster of scars and open sores. Pus and blood trickled down their cheeks and dropped from their lidless, sunken eyes. Pins stuck out of their flesh in slapdash patterns. Some even had small bones protruding from their noses, cheeks, necks, or all three. They waved their hands and thrashed about like fans at a rock concert, their eyes and whooping aimed at the glowing moon above. Silas shuddered beside me. I did, as well.
This was the Tau-Kin. Now I understood why Paul told me to stay away from them.
The sorry excuse for a human who stood next to the fire pit lurched forward, heaving a surge of vomit onto the grass. Those surrounding him (or her) cheered, and then the first punch was thrown. A fight ensued. One of them threw another in a headlock, while one more ripped a hunk of flesh from another’s arm with its sharp teeth. Three more joined in, kicking and clawing like raging baboons while spewing bile from their frayed lips. I backed away from our viewing window between the branches, fearful they’d realize we were there and throw us into the fray, as well.
They didn’t. Instead another voice, much louder
than the others, bellowed from the rear of the pack. I crawled back to my spot in time to see those involved in the skirmish retreat from each other as if they’d been scolded by an intimidating parent.
The sea of awful humanity parted and a large male humanoid stepped forward. Unlike the others, who dressed in the remains of common clothes, this one was naked save the litany of tattoos covering nearly every inch of his flesh. His huge muscles rippled and he was very, very tall. The only words I could think to describe him were Big Guy. He turned around and roared at the moon. His giant penis, split down the middle, flapped like a pair of snakes in a hairy nest. Lesions covered his face and chest – the only parts of him not inked – and an object dangled from his swollen bottom lip. It was a metal circle, within which sat an inverted Y. It looked like a Mercedes hood ornament, and for some reason I decided that’s exactly what it was.
Silas inched closer to me. I wrapped my arms around him. He was shaking.
Big Guy raised his massive hands and screamed. The sound was deafening. Soon the rest of the mob joined in, and the night air was filled with their howling. It hurt my ears. I moved back from the trees and pulled Silas close to me, burying my ear into the bulky mass of skin at the base of his neck.
Before too long the riotous bawling ceased. I shook my head to clear the ringing, noticed Silas doing the same, and, against my better judgment, went back to my peeping spot.
The scene had quieted down. Big Guy stood with his arms folded over his chest, staring at the moon’s azure radiance. Just like before the rest of the tribe followed suit. Their lips moved but the crackling fire and chorus of insects drowned out their words, if they were in fact speaking words at all. Silas whimpered. It was a much-too-loud sound. I forced him down and squeezed his mouth shut, hoping like hell they didn’t hear him.
Silas: A Supernatural Thriller Page 17