Counterpoint

by John Day

  The sand bar rose up to meet his dangling legs at a frightening rate, “Hell this is going to bloody hurt” he muttered to himself.

  At what seemed to be a split-second from impact the harness jerked Max almost to a stop, and his feet lightly touched the ground. Bill certainly knew what he was doing, and Max was full of admiration for him.

  Carla landed a few metres away, popped her harness release, and ran to Max, beaming all over her face.

  “Glad someone enjoyed it, ” he heard himself say.

  Chapter - The Black Panther.

  The survey team came out to welcome the four new arrivals. Bill and Ben were soon laughing and joking with them. The all-male team’s eyes were on Carla though; testosterone was rushing through their bodies as they looked at her and postured. They hardly acknowledged Max; he made his way silently, following the group towards the camp.

  Suddenly everyone froze on the spot. A snarling black shape leapt out from the dense jungle, onto the wide track in front of them. The large Black Panther paused, looking at the group with its cold, large yellow eyes, deciding which one was to be the victim. It snarled again, slowly and menacingly moving towards them. Right on cue, just as a group of prey always does at this point, they scattered, all but Carla, who was the closest and Max who had been at the rear of the group.

  Carla was now its target.

  Max saw her reach slowly down under her jeans to the inside of her left ankle. He ran towards her, grabbing a long straight pole as he did so. The big cat crouched low growling threateningly at this unexpected reaction.

  Max was to be the target now!

  Standing just in front of Carla he faced down the beast, its large, sleek powerful body and vicious jaws intimidated him. He was close enough to see into its large, deep pink mouth, he saw its tongue vibrate at the root as the creature growled, and drool dripped to the ground.

  “Leap to the left the moment it springs at me,” commanded Max through clenched teeth.

  He adjusted his grip on the stout 1.8 metre-long pole, working the end on the ground, into the soil, with the toe of his boot behind it.

  He aligned the top, slashed through to a chisel-point with a machete, in front of his face.

  The big cat let out a loud hissing growl and charged.

  Dread and fear swept through Max as he realised his silly plan had not been thought through and his heroic attempt to save his precious Carla was going to end in a horribly painful death.

  Anticipating the Panthers possible trajectory and the point at which it would leap on him, he dropped down on one knee and pushed the pole forward at about 45 degrees.

  “Now” The beast had committed itself to striking at Max’s throat and could not alter its flight, having sprung. Max was now crouched. The chisel pointed top of the pole skidded along the Panther’s sternum and penetrated below the ribcage, through its guts to the spine. As it felt the point, its massive body doubled up, and every muscle stiffened like deep-frozen meat.

  The Panther’s cry of agony, must have penetrated deep into the jungle, it deafened Max.

  As Max fell sideways, a clenched hind paw struck his right shoulder like a giant’s gloved fist.

  Max was twisted and knocked back falling heavily to the ground. The Panther hit the ground much harder on its side, spurting blood and slithering guts from its torn belly.

  A few synapse fired randomly in its dying brain, causing limbs to twitch for a moment, then all was still.

  Carla rolled over and looked at Max lying still and then at the dead animal. Men rushed over and helped her up, preventing her from getting to Max. She heard them say how Max had been struck and sent flying back like a rag doll, must have broken his neck or back.

  Grief swept over her.

  The medical man in the team went over to examine Max. “He’s still alive,” he shouted as Carla fought to get to him. “Better wait till he comes round,” said the medic “before we try to move him, in case he has spinal injuries.”

  As Max regained consciousness, he could hear the clamour of excited voices. Someone, looking at the dead Panther shouted “Christ! Look at the size of its bollocks!” Another replied, “I’ll get the Doc to chop them off and sew them on you if you like.” A roar of laughter rang out at the suggestion.

  “The man is coming round,” said the medic.

  Max’s vision cleared, and he was looking up at a circle of anxious faces. He focused on Carla. “We’re okay then?” He said. “Yes, ” she said, relieved, “That was risky wasn’t it?”

  “Not as risky as you trying to shoot it with your popgun.” Then he caught himself, no one there was to know they were an item, acquaintances, yes, but nothing more.

  After an examination, the men helped Max get up. He limped painfully over to the dead cat and looked at it. What a great shame he thought, a magnificent creature like that, I wonder why it suddenly went for us?

  He looked at the enormous open mouth. Inside he could see a large swelling around the back teeth on one side. A piece of splintered bone had become wedged between the teeth and gum, causing massive infection. The medic agreed: it must have driven the beast mad with pain.

  The newcomers were introduced to the rest of the team, waiting for them with drinks, in the mess room.

  The leader of the survey team was Ed Yates a stressed looking man in his late 30’s. He had done all the early research on the Geology of the area and put the package together for The Organisation to finance. On the face of it, he would be unlikely to leak any good strikes to anyone else. Bill Potter was the Medic and second in command, a much respected 48-year-old veteran. He had not made much out of his life so far. Apparently, he was unmarried and had no living family, to worry about. In his position, he would know everything the survey turned up, and this could be his last chance to get out of the business, a rich man. The remaining 20 men were all experienced in the work; none of them would have access to the test results, but could probably identify a potentially good find if they saw it. Keeping an eye on everyone was not going to be easy for Max and Carla, who had their own full time jobs to do, as well.

  To maintain their cover, Max shared a cabin with one of the men and Carla had a cabin all to herself, being the only female on the team. They both tried to cultivate friendships with the others and appeared to the team, to be uninterested in each other.

  It was now just one month after arriving at the site, and the indications were the team had found the edge of a vast mineral deposit. Four rigs were working continuously and the data showed the field extended north towards the low mountains.

  It was evening, and before the rig crews changed shifts, was a good time to take a break from typing up reports and updating the field map.

  Max followed Carla a few minutes later, into the mess hall. Big Mel and four of his crew were there; they had all been drinking quite heavily.

  As Max walked in, Big Mel had just got up and walked over to Carla. He had the hot’s for her and had decided tonight was the night to satisfy his lust.

  Carla had made a point of being friendly to everyone when in a group, and never talked, or sat, with anyone on their own, not even Max, except through necessity of working in the same office.

  Max guessed correctly what was about to happen and knew no one would stand against Big Mel if they wanted to keep their teeth in their heads.

  Max intercepted Big Mel halfway across the floor, blocking his path. Max smiled warmly, “Hi Mel, can I get you a drink?”

  “No,” he replied, “I’ve got better things on my mind.”

  His advance did not falter. It had not crossed his mind that Max would stay in his path.

  Max did not budge, but braced himself by leaning forward against the rock solid muscular belly that barged into him. At the same time, Max gripped Mel’s wrists firmly at his sides, with his fingers just inside Mel’s pockets.

  Mel, as a result, came to an abrupt halt, unable to move his hands away from his sides. Max spoke quietly in Mel’s left ear. />
  “I wouldn’t go there if I were you, her herpes has a flared up again. You don’t want to spend the rest of your life pulling the scabs off your dick like potato crisps, do you?” Big Mel was shocked!

  Max obviously was not letting him pass, if a raging Panther did not frighten him then neither would Mel. What if she did have something nasty? Mel did not want that either.

  He threw his head back and let out a bellowing laugh. As Mel turned away, Max relaxed his grip, and the two men walked back to the bar laughing. Carla had seen what had happened and quickly slipped away, back to the safety of her office. When Max returned, half an hour later, she asked what he had said to Mel.

  “I just told him, you had the clap, so I doubt anyone will bother you again!”

  “You sod!” She said and then grinned. “I hope it won’t put you off,” she mocked. “When we make love again up at the waterfall.”

  “No way,” he replied, eyes twinkling. As he walked past her, he surreptitiously dragged his hand up the front of her thighs, pausing briefly to cup her squish mitten, and then walked on unconcerned to a desk, to collect more forms to fill-in.

  That night Carla spoke to Sam, passing on her official report in the usual way, using the hidden satellite phone, away from the camp. The cabins had stainless steel mesh reinforcement in the GRP shell that blocked radio communication, a feature of the design, to protect occupants from harmful effects of high power radio transmitters, common in such camps. Sam warned her to be on the lookout for someone else who could be passing on information in the same way. He had heard from a source in the Congo Government that the team had found minerals.

  Apart from the Ed Yates, no one else should have contact with the outside world. Ed would have nothing to gain as far as Sam could tell, by announcing the find this early.

  Carla signed off and thought about who was likely to leak the find and how they could do it in secret. She told Max about it on the next shift.

  That night, Max slipped away as usual into the darkness, especially aware that someone else might also be out there making his secret call to the outside world.

  The noise in the jungle at night is so loud that you would have to be quite close to someone talking on a phone, to hear them. If you got that close, they would probably know you were there. Max knew it was a long shot, but moved to a position where he could see most of the cabins. If the informer were out in the jungle now, Max would see him returning. Having just written up the latest survey results, now was a good time to keep a look out.

  Out of boredom, his thoughts wandered. Unlike other men of his age, he no longer suffered from aches and pains from pulled muscles or arthritic joints, he was mentally sharper than he had ever been and had energy to burn. When he went for tests in Egypt, The Organisation monitored the stem cell treatment he had for his eye repair. Unexpectedly cellular regeneration was now occurring throughout his body.

  The steep climb, up to the waterfall in sweltering heat followed by a long session of passionate sex with Carla, rounded off with a 15-minute swim against the strong current in the icy water left him totally refreshed. His body-fat was practically zero, his bald spot had started re-growing hair, downy it might be, but it was undeniably there.

  He returned his thoughts to catching the informant.

  Carla made a list of everyone who could have access to the survey results, then threw it away. The list was pointless, she thought, everyone knows the survey is producing positive results, and even if they did not have the mapping details, they would soon eliminate the early sample sites and produce a workable map from the others.

  No, they would have to catch the person when they made the transmission. She thought further, even if we know who is sending the info we still do not know who is receiving it and what benefit it is to them anyway. When she later told Max, he agreed and said “We might get lucky so just keep our eyes open, hoping to catch them at it.”

  Chapter - The attack.

  The following night Max melted quietly into the jungle and waited, watching the team coming and going. Perhaps tonight he would catch the informer.

  It was now 5am, it would be dawn soon, unknown to him; Carla had also ventured out to join Max. She had suddenly become restless, her sixth sense warning her of trouble.

  When she saw Max, she moved towards him silently, to avoid warning anyone else, within earshot.

  Immediately after the first shot was fired, the noises of the jungle stopped. Less than a second later, the echo of the first shot had not even died; gunfire and heavy explosions shattered the night.

  The flames shot up high above the trees into the sky. The brilliant flashes, filtered through countless leaves, lit up where they stood.

  “Max!” Carla called out as she ran to him. Max spun round shocked that anyone could creep up on him.

  “What the hell’s happening?” He gasped.

  As they crouched low, the occasional stray bullets ripped unseen through the undergrowth close to them. They took shelter behind a large tree, clutching each other close.

  Minutes later the firing and explosions stopped. Distant voices issued commands, but were too faint to understand. Silence fell around them as the flickering glow of intense fires diminished. More minutes past and the faint sound of the survey vehicles coming back to camp from the foot of the mountain, grew louder.

  “Christ! Carla, the drill team are driving into a trap, we must do something.”

  Moments later the vehicles stopped at the compound. Max and Carla rushed through the jungle to warn them, but they knew they were too late. The men got out of their vehicles and rushed to their fallen colleagues. The prone corpses littered about the open ground, illuminated by the surrounding flames.

  Drawn out into the open away from any cover the vehicles might have provided, the team was grouped in the firelight, a ten-second hail of bullets ripped through them. No one survived.

  Silence fell again the only sound was the gentle roar of fires and crackle of burning buildings.

  Five minutes had now past, it seemed like an eternity. Then voices and commands disturbed the night and booted feet were heard, running quietly over the soft earth, around the outskirts of the camp. Carla and Max glimpsed the occasional shadowy figure crouched low, flitting from cover to cover.

  “I bet they do a body-count,” predicted Carla. Max knew what that implied. This well-organised attack group must be mercenaries coming to wipe out all, but the person who had been leaking information. They would soon discover two bodies were missing. They will probably know who the missing were, as well. A team this well informed probably had photos of everyone working at the camp.

  “We had better hide somewhere until this lot go,” added Carla. “Then we can report what happened here.”

  “There is a flaw or three in your plan,” countered Max. “First, these killers have at least two days to find us. It would take that time for help to get here, even if they knew we needed it. It would take several missed reports before a satellite phone was parachuted in to replace what they thought was a faulty one, the likely reason for broken contact. Next, if we did avoid capture, we would still have to sit it out until help came. Then, who do we say did this?”

  "True," said Carla, regretting her instinctive “save own skin first,” philosophy.

  “What’s your plan then?” She enquired.

  “I don’t have one, well not yet anyway,” he replied rather indignantly. She felt better, “saving own skin,” was always a good plan.

  “We had better move closer so we can see what is going on,” said Max as he crept closer to the carnage. Carla stuck close behind him moving as quiet as mist through the tangled undergrowth. The men were now dragging the bodies to the centre of the camp and after checking off who they were, piled the corpses over charges of explosives.

  “They plan to erase all traces of the individuals here by blowing the remains to atoms,” whispered Carla “I bet they will do the same with all the buildings as well.”

>   The man in charge, dressed in combat gear and carrying a range of weaponry, nervously circulated the area. He was a tall, well-built individual, close-cropped hair and a long face. His heavy jaw accentuated the squareness of his rectangular face.

  Max estimated the man must be about 35 to 40, but knew he was hopeless at judging a man’s age. He was worse still with women. Anyway, age is just a state of mind.

  The man was obviously a hard case, Max had seen the movies, and these types of men were practically indestructible. Hit them in the face with a massive punch and they would laugh and keep coming. Hit them over the head with a steel bar and they turn nasty, and keep coming. Shoot the fuckers, and they just get back up, and keep coming!

  “Carla, I need your pop gun!”

  “No, ” she said, “I might need it.”

  “What! I need it. I’m going to take the leader of these mercenaries, prisoner.”

  “In your dreams,” she whispered back. “He’s wearing body armour and bullet-proof jacket. Shoot him with my gun and he will just grunt and keep coming.”

  “Humm! The keep coming thing, I was afraid you might say that, still I need to take him out so we can find out who set this up.”

  “Oh for Christ’s sake, get a grip on reality,” she said as she punched him hard on the arm.

  “Ouch! Don’t do that,” said Max feigning injury and he got up slowly and moved towards one of the team’s vehicles, its engine still ticking over.

  The leader of the mercenaries, for that is what they were, turned with his back to the vehicle looking at the burning buildings. Max reached the vehicle, a large pickup truck, and peered inside. As expected, tools lay scattered over the bed. He reached in and carefully extracted a large spanner. Just then the man stepped backwards, close to the truck turning his head and body from side to side as he scanned for movement in the darkness beyond the firelight. Then he turned and faced the truck. He saw Max freeze, spanner in hand, leaning over the side of the truck. In an instant, the man’s machine gun swung up to blast Max to eternity. As his gun lifted, he jerked back, first his left shoulder, then his right, the machine-gun firing as it rose up. Then his left jerked again. He fell flat on his back, stunned, and still firing wildly in the air. The bullets, like angry bees, that zipped past Max’s ear were from Carla’s popgun. The ceramic masterpiece of high-tech armament was fitted with a suppressor.