Counterpoint

by John Day

  His shoulders and head, now passed into the darkness of this sweltering hell. All the oxygen was depleted, from his last deep breath. He had to take another breath now.

  To his surprise, the vile stench was no worse inside, his senses were overloaded.

  He tensed even more as he heard voices getting louder. What if they noticed the wet sand and drag marks from his body as he had eased into the hiding place? Obviously they were looking for human footprints in the sand churned by the countless hoofs of watering beasts, but they found none. Someone with an itchy trigger finger fired three rapid, silenced shots into the back of the carcass. Two lodged in the thick mass of bone where ribs and spine converged. The third passed through the top flank, and out through the open belly, screaming through the air as it ricocheted off a rock. Maggots rained down on Max from the bullet's impact, fortunately, the bullets missed him.

  The voices moved into the distance again.

  Sweat streamed from his body and ran down his bare skin, along with maggots to add to the slime he lay in.

  After what seemed an eternity of some 10 minutes, Max cautiously eased out into the fresh air. He lay and listened but could not hear anyone. They could still be close by, of course, but not talking, so he lay there for a while longer.

  Plucking up courage, he made his move and peered about him as he slipped completely out of the carcase, onto the damp sand. The clean water was tempting, would he ever be clean again? The risk of being seen was too great. He made a low dash for the cover of the dense jungle. He was fortunate to find the freshly cut trail the men had made, down from the waterfall, so he quickly made his way up to Carla. She had watched what had happened from the shadows of the ledge and planned to intercept Max as he got close. As he reached the tree Carla had shot at, gunfire broke out below. The men were being chased by Pygmies. The men’s guns scythed through the group of 20 men, leaving them squirming and bleeding along the river’s edge. Other Pygmies maintained their cover in the jungle, and when the last echoes of gunfire died away, below the roar of the waterfall, arrows and spears rain down on the mercenaries. Their bodies bristled with the thin projectiles and the men brushed them off with ease.

  Instead of running for cover or firing back they just stood there for a few seconds, like they were waiting for something. Then one by one they sank to the ground slowly, like tired old men and lay still. The natives cautiously eased out of the jungle and stood over their victims. Seeing the gunmen were unresponsive the natives stripped the bodies and carried them off into the jungle. Max and Carla looked at each other and decided to make their way down to where the men fell. If the men were still alive, perhaps there was a way of freeing them.

  Carla spotted an arrow and picked it up. Max looked at it. The thin straight shaft had a long, sharp thorn for a point. The thorn could easily be pulled out of the end of the valuable, reusable shaft. Looking closely, Max could see the point was stained with crushed vegetable juices. “Something like Curare I expect,” he said to Carla. “There is no way of saving the men now, ” he said and explained why.

  “Why do you think they stripped the bodies and carried them away?” Asked Carla, suspecting the answer.

  “I think they will be spit roasted or stewed! Bonn apatite!” Exclaimed Max.

  Carla gave a little shudder at the thought of someone turning and basting a human body over an open fire, possibly eyeing up the tastiest cuts.

  “We had better get out of here,” muttered Max, “We have our own problems to deal with.”

  On the way back to the waterfall, they discussed their options.

  “First priority is to find a way home, preferably taking Matt with us. By the way, what have you done with him?”

  “Oh, he’s probably a bit tied up at the moment,” she grinned. “Wanted to jump my bones, couldn’t cope with my rejection and crashed out; still he has probably come to his senses by now!” Max smiled faintly back; he knew Matt was probably regretting his misjudgment of Carla.

  They reached the waterfall and walked along a ledge, back to Matt. He was red in the face with fury when he saw them. Not only was the old fool back, but with his bitch, as well.

  Max walked over to Matt and looked down at him, laid on his side like a longbow with his hands tied to his ankles. There was no point speaking above the roar of water, and they both knew they hated each other. Max kicked him hard in his unprotected stomach and shouted, “Now there’s a good reason to want to kill me if you ever get the chance!” He then proceeded to wash off as much of the dried-on putrefied animal flesh as he could.

  Carla checked Matt’s bonds; they were fine, so she and Max made their way cautiously back to camp. They planned to deal with any guards and make off with their boats back to civilisation. If they were able, they would go back for Matt and take him with them to stand trial with his employer.

  It was still early morning, but the sun was scorching hot, already. Fortunately, the cover of the jungle offered some protection.

  Close to the camp, they approached the river through the jungle; it was slow going, trying to avoid making a noise in the dense undergrowth.

  Suddenly they heard voices. They could make out four men guarding two powerful launches. The men were well spread out and had good cover, so surprise would be tricky.

  “What we need is a good distraction” suggested Carla.

  “You’re right” muttered Max “I think I know how. Do you think you could pick them off with your gun at his range?”

  “It’s a bit of a long shot, pun intended,” she replied. She pulled her gun pressed a button and the L.E.D. displayed five more shots left. “Not much safety margin, 2 misses, and we’re in trouble,” she added. Max proceeded to explain his plan.

  Carla settled down to wait whilst Max made his way back to get Matt.

  At his first opportunity, Max rubbed dirt on his exposed skin. The sweat formed a muddy camouflage.

  Now he ran across open ground along the edge of the jungle, ready to duck for cover if necessary.

  Near the base of the hill where Carla’s truck flipped over, one working truck remained. Max checked it would start, turned it round, and left it.

  Quickly he made his way back to get Matt. With his feet released, Matt jogged ahead of Max at the end of a rope, found in the truck. Max also had Matt’s loaded pistol and knife to control him.

  When they reached the truck Max strapped Matt in the driver’s seat using the seat belts, and tied his hands to the top of the steering wheel and feet back to the seat frame. Then he looped the remaining rope from Matt’s left hand, out of the side window, across the back of the cab and in through the other side window. He tied off the end to Matt’s right hand. Max could now steer the truck in safety from behind the cab. Using a screwdriver Max adjusted the engine idle speed to about 1500 RPM. Then he wedged tools under the clutch, brake and accelerator pedals so Matt could not use them if he got his feet free. Finally, he gagged Matt with pieces of Hessian cut from filthy sacks found on the truck bed.

  To start off, Max sat up with Matt, he needed more steering control than the rope provided until he entered the camp. Then he planned to climb into the back of the truck.

  With the help of the downward slope, the truck started with the ignition key and starter motor, running in third gear. They trundled at a lively pace back to camp along the track. Matt found it was pointless to struggle, when he tried to knock the gear lever out of gear with his knee, Max gave him a pistol-whipping across the cheekbone.

  As they swung around the last bend into the camp, Max shouted, “Time to drive horsey style.” Max climbed out of the cab window and into the bed of the truck. Matt struggled again, but could not override the pull of the ropes, but managed to knock the gear lever into neutral. However, the truck still rolled on down the gentle gradient, to the river. As expected, the four guards took cover and focused on the approaching truck. They held their fire until they could identify the driver. To help them, Matt sat still so they could see his face,
he did not want them to shoot first and be sorry later. When they realised it was Matt, they stood up and broke cover. Carla aimed, and starting with the nearest and rearmost man, shot each through the base of his skull. Each victim dropped almost soundlessly to the ground, unseen by the others. The rapid, Phut, phut, phut, phut of the silenced gun was lost in the background noises of the jungle. Carla’s special high-velocity bullets, designed to fragment into diamond hard, razor-sharp segments had smacked into the skulls like a cricket ball hitting a car windscreen. The splintered bone pushed into the brain, forming a large dent in the skull. Hair and flesh sliced away like a grated orange skin.

  With the guards dead, Carla broke cover and ran towards the truck. Max climbed back into the cab and yanked on the hand-brake, bringing it to a skidding halt, back wheels locked on the dusty, earth track.

  They left Matt tied to the steering wheel and checked out their transport home.

  Chapter - Escape to Kinshasa.

  Two large launches were tied up to the jetty, well stocked with provisions and fuel. Although only one was required to get to Kinshasa, they decided to take both in case of a break down. No point in taking unnecessary chances.

  “I had better do something about the bodies,” suggested Max.

  “Let the animals have them, ” replied Carla indignantly, you keep an eye on Matt.

  Anxious to get to civilisation as soon as possible, Max took the first watch with Matt at the helm. Carla washed and went to sleep.

  With the other launch in tow, a steady 15 knots was as fast as they dared go. There were bits of trees, clumps of floating vegetation and animals in the water to avoid. The plan was to work Matt to the point of collapse with his limbs tied to parts of the boat. He could move freely, but not far. Neither Max nor Carla left him alone for a moment. They knew Matt would do his best to avoid wrecking the boat because he knew they would leave him to sink with it and continue in the other boat. Escape though was always on his mind.

  On the second day, they were travelling against the current, towards Kinshasa, Carla had just finished her watch and woke Max.

  “I’ve been thinking” she said, “We must be extremely careful how we deal with this situation. If we go breezing into town with Matt as our prisoner, report the killing of the survey team and our part in killing the mercenaries, we are going to be headline news. Our covers will be blown, and The Organisation will be in the spotlight. We will be prime targets for Matt’s employer as well as The Organisation. You know what they are like”

  “Humm! I think you are right.”

  “If we make contact with Sam first and explain what happened, they can clear up the mess,” she suggested.

  “What about finding out whom Matt’s employer is and making him pay for his crimes?” Queried Max “Will Sam deal with that?”

  “No” she replied solemnly, “The Organisation won’t waste resources on that, or risk exposure themselves.”

  A wave of frustrations swept over Max. “All these innocent people killed and no one punished for it. Go and have your rest my love, I’ll mull over what you said and see if I can find a way round it.”

  Matt had heard the conversation and wondered what they would do with him now. If they were not going to hand him over to the authorities, then there was no point them keeping him alive. They were not likely to just, let him go. Escape became a greater priority now. At least if he was in the hands of the authorities, he stood a good chance of getting away with his crime. He had escaped from tighter situations, in the past.

  Max considered how they would present themselves to the various authorities. Their passports, visas, etc. had been destroyed. They were foreigners, didn’t speak the language, had killed, the issue of self-defence to be proved and had no papers or money. They were in big trouble!

  Chapter - Project Oracle.

  James soon set up his computer equipment in a small industrial building. A large timber framework with clear polythene sheeting stapled to it formed the room in the building that housed the equipment. The computers were held in racks, not the average home PCs, but complete systems in shallow metal drawers, interconnecting wires at the back, switches and twinkling lights at the front. The system required just one keyboard and three large monitors to start up with; they were in the small office nearby.

  James had wondered if this system, whatever it was, would even work. The original programmer could not know what equipment would be available to run his programme, so it must be self-configuring.

  The final moment had come, all the equipment was switched on, and the discs were loaded in the specific order dictated by the program on the third monitor screen. Almost at once, messages were displayed on the main monitor requesting certain manual alterations to the connectors to specific computers. Then, with all DVD data ROMs and the massive capacity hard drives whirring and clicking, the monitors showed the progress of installation and configuration proceeding satisfactorily. After about six hours, all the screens cleared and asked the question, “Who are you?”

  James typed in his full name and pressed the return key.

  The screen now displayed, “You are a new user. Do you require help to use this system?”

  y/n

  James pressed y.

  After a short overview of the principles of the system, it then proceeded to elicit questions from James to which he gave answers.

  It appears the system generated its own operating system based on the processors used. It was not only a vast store of knowledge but was creative in how it used it. It was able to reason, and deduced like a human might, but much faster and more consistent.

  The following day when James carried out a simple experiment, he was amazed at the results. A photo taken from a magazine was scanned into the system. The question, “Where was this photo originally taken?” Produced not only the correct geographical location, but concluded with the camera lens details, height of the photographer and referred to the page and an article the photograph had been cut from. This had been deduced from information on the internet and a rare orchid shown in part of the picture.

  After many other experiments, James decided to try and get something useful out of the system, and fed commercial software into it for re coding. Again, the results were staggering. A perfectly workable product was returned, only a quarter of the original size. After a lot of testing, it appeared to be bug-free and blindingly fast. After more experimentation, James found ways of directing the process to incorporate many new features in the product. He then offered the product free on the Internet for testing and comment.

  In no time at all, reports came back, no bugs, but a wish list of new features. Some features must have been dreamed up by crackpots, but some were intriguing and beyond current technology in the public domain.

  James set the system working on the changes and after some fine-tuning, had a unique product ready for his growing user base to test and use.

  It was soon after that, big trouble came knocking on his door!

  Chapter - Matt makes his escape.

  Exhausted though he was, Matt Stone managed to keep a clear mind, alert to any opportunity that could help him escape. Out of desperation, he appeared to go berserk. He rammed the throttle wide open and aimed the careening launch at the far bank of the wide river. He reasoned that his two captors would instinctively try to subdue him, rather than get their feet wet if he managed to wreck the boat. He wanted them to get close to him so he could fight back. Taken completely by surprise Max and Carla honestly did think Matt had gone mad. They had both pushed him beyond reasonable limits of human endurance. No rest for two days and nights, minimal food and water, and total humiliation, when he needed to relieve himself. There was no way Max and Carla were going close enough to be jumped by him and if he became worn down and exhausted, he was more likely to be manageable, they thought.

  Matt yelled and cursed, swerved the boat and appeared hell-bent on smashing up the boat and ending it all. They tugged hard at his ropes, but he
clung to the wheel as though they did not exist. As the bank loomed close Max shouted, “Carla, take the controls when I grab Matt.” Max leapt on the crazed man and held him in a bear hug, trying to pull Matt away from the wheel. Suddenly Matt went into attack mode and felled Max with a single blow. Carla reached for the gun in her ankle holster, but Matt backhanded her across the face and sent her sliding dazed across the deck. Both Max and Carla were out of Matt’s reach, so he quickly freed his hands.

  Free at last, he planned to kill the pair and sail into civilisation alone.

  Carla was coming round and going for the gun again. Matt’s fuddled brain saw only one option, and he dived over the side, moments before the launch struck a submerged tree and glanced off out towards the centre of the river. The sinking boat rapidly lost speed as it filled up, the engine finally cut out as it became swamped. Carla helped Max up and bundled him into the towed launch as it drifted alongside. Finally, she released the tow rope and leapt to safety as the water swirled towards her along the deck. Moments later, only the top of the cabin showed above the muddy water.

  As she searched the bank for a Matt, she shivered at the sight of the Crocodiles slithering down into the water. Matt surfaced as they headed for him. The first Crocodile closed his vicious jaws around his middle, the razor-sharp teeth like a hundred daggers piercing his soft body, the agony as they a bit even deeper into the flesh. She heard his scream of terror as it pulled his head under the swirling muddy water. Finally, the crocodile twisted and churned through the water, his body like a frenzied propeller, spine snapping and limbs breaking in death.

  Max’s voice brought her back into reality, “Carla!”

  “Matt’s gone!” Was all she could reply.