by JESUIT
The wretched captives had all heard what the impressive man had said. None believed him. God was the Creator and that was fact.
A last glance at the unfortunate group by the Elder, accompanied by the words: “May you find peace and contentment on the next level,” and he was gone. Immediately the villagers erupted into a barrage of noise; cheering, shrieking and roaring, their feet stamping heavily on the ground, spears jabbing the air.
Ignatious watched the activity fearfully. The tribe was working itself into a trance-like frenzy. Then, from the melee strode a man holding one of the strange, wooden syringes that were sometimes used to cure some of the more severe illnesses. Without pause, he walked up to the crying and jabbering Sister Vasquez and placed the syringe against her arm. A slight delay as he searched for the correct spot and then the plunger was pressed. A short crack and the young woman died instantly, apparently feeling no pain. Her head slumped forward and she hung naked and beautifully serene in death.
Vasquez was immediately released from her bonds and carried in the arms of four men to the crematorium, where she was gently placed into the pod, a bunch of humming bird feathers being placed against her left thigh. This time, however, the lid was left off as a tribesman carried out the lighting process. The baying crowd now fell silent and their ranks parted so that the prisoners were allowed a clear view of the events.
The furnace roared and hummed, the outer covering glowing quickly to a white heat. A thin plume of flame appeared around Dolorita, orange and yellow in colour, highlighting her peaceful frame for a few seconds and then she began to burn and shrivel. The sight of the twisting, blackening body turned the stomachs of her heartbroken ex-colleagues. The lid had been deliberately left off to allow the body to burn rather than be incinerated and to let the others view the spectacle. Suddenly, a thick sheet of flame shot through the burning mass and the Sister disappeared, becoming part of the fuel for the fire. The lid was hoisted into place and left for it to complete the operation as normal.
A low murmuring came from the gathered crowd and this increased in volume and intensity until it was back to the blood curdling shrieking and roaring of before. The villagers surged forward to the captives, stopping a couple of feet from them, the noise continuing unabated. The stamping of feet began again, striking even more terror into the shivering trio. The noise and threat was awful.
Then, of all people, Ignatious saw his friend, Karakta, step forward and begin to jab his spear into the unprotected body of Christian. Jab, jab, jab, jab; chest, abdomen, thighs, arms; jab, jab, jab; feet, knees, testicles. The screaming brought tears to Ignatious’s eyes and he wept unashamedly.
Ottomier, to his left, was uttering a strange, guttural sound, his eyes wide and rolling wildly, saliva sliding from the corners of his jaw.
A girl of around twelve stepped forward and stuck some pointed object into Ottomier’s midriff bringing a loud cry from him. Looking into his face, giggling, she stuck him again and again, targeting his arms and legs, the crowd urging her on. This was the signal for several other youngsters to step forward and begin stabbing and cutting the helpless victims. The only one not included was, of course, Ignatious.
Christian was brought more into the horrendous display of violence, adults and children alike using him to vent their anger and clearly deriving sadistic pleasure from it. Ignatious was powerless to shut out the terrible screams of his companions.
The suffering went on and on, flaming torches and smouldering twigs being used in addition to the stabbing and cutting. The blood lust was plain to see in the eager faces of the tormentors, whether they be young or old. The genital area of Ottomier came in for prolonged treatment, his cries and screams serving only to encourage. Even if a miracle should occur and he be freed, he would never again be able to use that part of his body for pleasure.
The hot sun rose to its zenith, painfully burning the naked bodies of the missionaries, there being no shade to protect them. As if at a given signal, the torture ceased and the tribespeople moved away to their homes, presumably for the mid-day meal.
Turning to his friend, Christian, Ignatious was shocked to see his condition. He hung limply as far as his bonds would allow, pieces of flesh hanging from him, his body blackened where he had been burned, open wounds seeping blood. From head to toe, he was a damaged mess. Mercifully, he had lost consciousness at some period in the torture, but the trembling, incoherent babbling continued. Parts of his scalp were raw and bleeding where the hair had been torn from him, flies already settling on the seeping wounds.
Ignatious looked to the heavens, forlornly beseeching his Creator to free he and his companions from this hell. Receiving no immediate salvation, he swivelled his head to look at Ottomier. The man, the sinner who had brought this horror upon the religious group, was in a similar condition to Christian, with the added pain of having the eye nearest to Ignatious, reduced to an open, bleeding socket and an ear torn away. One of his feet was still smouldering, a thin plume of smoke curling lazily upwards, where the foot had previously been set alight. The blubbering and salivating was a constant accompaniment to the groans of Father Christian, further along the line.
The torture was resumed in the early evening when both injured men had recovered to some extent. The agony was made worse by the injuries providing fertile targets for the cruel treatment. Although Ignatious was left completely alone in all this, the torture he suffered was of a mental kind, creating scars that, if he managed to live, would remain with him for ever.
The sun had begun to set before the agonies finally ended for that day, the victims being expertly kept alive. The only relief, of a sort, reached by Ignatious was to use the power of his brain to lift him to a higher plane and also to keep away the incessant attacks from the winged insects that plagued the blood-soaked humans. However, this wasn’t something he could maintain indefinitely and he was forced to endure periods of suffering until his mind was strong enough to temporarily free him once more.
Shortly after sunrise, it all began again, the tribe seemingly tireless in their mission. The only break came when the cremation of the murdered girl, Ka-Lauma took place but the event had the effect of heightening the desire of the tribe to hurt the perpetrators. How Christian and Ottomier stayed alive seemed a sick miracle in itself but this was due to the expertise of the persecutors, following centuries of experience.
It was on the fourth day that a change occurred. The villagers came from their dwellings as usual at sunrise, painted as before but carrying no weapons of any kind. An unnerving quietness descended on the villagers and they sat in a huge semi-circle before the almost mindless prisoners. Four chosen men then stepped forward, two of whom were carrying small wooden boxes, measuring approximately ten inches by eight and around five inches deep. They stood in twos before the miserable prisoners; one with a box and one without. What good eyes the priests possessed stared transfixed at the boxes before them, sensing something evil and dangerous. The lids were lifted to reveal a scurrying mass of small insects, which the priests easily identified as the poisonous Fire Ants. An involuntary shudder coursed through their bodies, and this included Ignatious.
With ceremonial aplomb, the men with the free hands dipped in and grabbed a handful each. They held the busy insects under the noses of their captives for several seconds, allowing the fear to increase as their minds imagined what was about to happen. The hands moved nearer and then sprinkled the insects onto the shoulders of the quaking men.
Like greyhounds released from the trap, the ants sped over the bruised and torn flesh, exploring the open wounds, biting as they went, scurrying into the warm holes of the ears and nostrils, doing their damage there, also. Ottomier endured the added horror of having the dreadful creatures invading his open eye socket. To the men, it was like having razors slid across their injuries and the screeching began again. In seconds that seemed like hours, the bodies jerked and shuddered in agony as the poisons hit their systems. The mouths that opened to cry out b
ecame immediately filled with nasty, biting ants, some speeding down their throats.
One of the tribesmen then brushed away all that could be seen, using a large frond from the abundant ferns that covered the area. They then sat with the rest to watch and enjoy the suffering of Christian and Ottomier.
The bound pair cried and screamed in their unconsciousness, the pain being so severe as to register through the insensible state, the life slowly being drained from them.
As death seemed imminent, and soon, one of the four rose and went to the twitching victims, pressing the compressed-air syringe against their arms. The figures stopped the pained movements and became instantly relaxed, remaining in an unconscious state, the poisons quickly surrendering to the potent antidote.
During that day, Christian and Ottomier were subjected to various injections, administered by use of the reed needles. The effect of these was varied in reaction and intensity, as the drugs that were applied caused muscle spasms and, at other times, frightening hallucinations.
Following the regular pattern, the villagers returned home for their mid-day meals before resuming the entertainment an hour or so later. In between the action, Ignatious was given pure, clear water to slake his intense thirst – an unexpected act of mercy.
On returning for the afternoon session, the villagers sat, as before, in a large semi-circle, while one of their number administered the mind-bending drugs to Christian and Ottomier. As the day dragged towards evening, with both tortured priests nearing the end, their bodies in a sickening mess, their minds in a fury of terror, Ignatious’s friend, Karakta, stood before what was left of Father Christian, holding a timber box, similar in size to the ones before, which he set on the ground. Bending to the box, he lifted the lid, reached in and brought out a large ant, one much bigger than the Fire Ants. This was recognised by Ignatious as a Giant Amazon Ant – a deadly species. He held the wriggling creature in his hand, holding it aloft to the cheers of the onlookers. After allowing time for all to see and applaud, he proceeded to place it at the base of Christian’s neck, letting its legs beat a fast rhythm on the bare flesh where it created several nasty little scratch marks. Karakta then let go of the ant. Immediately it was free, the dreadful insect bit into Christian’s neck before speeding away around his head, biting whenever it felt the urge. It completed its exploration by rushing down the torn side of the tortured priest before losing itself in the surrounding foliage.
Christian gave out a long groan as the muscles of his body spasmed causing his legs and arms to strain against the bonds and his head jerk upwards and back again, side to side and up again. His face took on an expression of moving through a speed barrier as the cheeks flapped and billowed, exposing a mouthful of broken and bloodied teeth, his muscles beginning to paralyse as Ignatious watched. He died in that position.
Before releasing the corpse, two other tribesmen ensured that Ottomier was awake and aware of what was going on, forcing him to look toward his dead companion. Karakta released the body and dragged it ignominiously to the crematorium, while the villagers once more allowed a pathway for the remaining prisoners to see. Karakta single-handedly lifted Christian onto the pod and laid him out, notably omitting the placing of the feathers against the thigh. He then stepped back and lit the fire. As with sister Vasquez, the transparent flame began the spectacle, followed by the sudden sheet of flame that turned the carcass into fuel.
As Ottomier was approached, he began to shake even more violently, dreading the oncoming attack from the Giant Amazon. He gasped with relief as he felt his bonds being unfastened. Could it be that he was to be set free? Had he suffered enough? He prayed to God, as he had not done for so many long months in this paradise gone wrong. Muttering unheeded thanks and falling to his lacerated knees as he was moved from the post to which he had been attached over the last four days, he begged the forgiveness of the tribe. “I have learned my lesson, now,” he croaked. “It will never happen again. Please, forgive me the error of my ways. The good Lord above will punish me as I deserve.”
He then felt himself being dragged painfully to his feet and urged along toward the funeral box. Bewildered, he shuffled forward without resistance until he felt himself again being bound, this time at the wrists with his damaged arms behind him, and then at the ankles. Before he had time to take in the new turn of events, he was lifted into the pod, which was now empty of its hot ash and once more covered with earth and bracken.
Desperate to escape from his prison, Ottomier began to wriggle furiously, ignoring the extremes of pain that the struggle caused him. He screamed for clemency and pleaded for his miserable life but forgiveness was not forthcoming. He heard the dreaded roar of the crematorium fire as it shot into life. The comfortable bed on which he lay began to get warm, the fuel smouldering at its base. Ottomier wriggled and cried, still calling for mercy. The heat became stronger and began to burn and peel the skin from him. The fire was building slowly now, unlike the usual burial, designed to inflict the maximum pain.
The priest, a child rapist and murderer, smelled his own flesh burning, the pain more intense than anything suffered so far. His good eye roamed downwards and he observed blisters appearing wherever skin remained on his body, the now aptly named Fire Ants, streaming out through the open wounds, to be incinerated in a flash. In a final moment, Ottomier saw a bright light somewhere in his subconscious, followed by the serene face of his Lord God. A mighty sheet of flame shot through the cooking body and he was no more.
By this time, the light was beginning to fade and the crowd, excited by the brutality, adrenalin buzzing, returned to the lone captive.
‘This is it,’ thought Ignatious. ‘My Maker will receive me.’ A strange calm overtook him; he was prepared.
Suddenly, the Elder appeared through the gathering and confronted the doomed priest. “You have suffered punishment by witnessing the torture and death of your companions,” he began. “You are to die but not this day. As the sun will rise tomorrow, you will be put to death by injection of a poison unknown to you and your world. In deference to the good work you have done here, you will leave without pain and quickly. Your body will then be burned in accordance with our customs and you, unlike your friends, will be accorded the assistance to your destination of the Colibri – the humming bird feathers.” He then signalled to Karakta to bring food, drink and oils, instructing him to clean up the condemned man and give him nourishment.
“Farewell, young man,” he said to Ignatious, “and may you sit in peace with your God.” With that, he left.
The crowd began to disperse, leaving behind Karakta and two others. Ignoring Ignatious, Karakta went about his duties, bringing forward a rough, timber table upon which the others placed one of the compressed-air hypodermics and a liquid solution. This was the poison that was to be used on Ignatious and it was contained in a flask made from hardened animal skin. Ignatious absently noted that there would be far too much in the flask for the one dosage but, he reasoned, it was probably the entire stock carried. The tribes-people were able to produce the poison in any quantity from the local vegetation, so there would be no lack of supply.
Finally, having completed his task, Karakta turned to his one time friend. “Gawain, my friend. I am truly sorry about this; it is beyond my control. I am not allowed to even speak with you and my heart hurts at your present situation. I take a great risk in speaking with you now and I must leave quickly. I want to tell you before I go, that our friendship was of great value to me and it will remain with me until I die. I wish you good fortune in your next life.” A tear trickled down the face of the troubled Incuda, as he took one last, lingering look at Ignatious, before moving swiftly away to his dwelling.
Left alone, bound to the pole, Ignatious also shed a tear as the evening turned into night, stars beginning to twinkle in the clear skies. The ever-present sounds of jungle animals diminished to the odd roar or growl, with an occasional shriek from some unknown breed of monkey or bird. The night was warm and Ignat
ious settled to his prayer, dozing as far as his position would allow, his spirit now calm and prepared for the coming audience with his Creator.
Ignatious came from his sleep, his brain befuddled with the events of the dream. Slowly, order settled and he sat up. Putting his hands to his face, he wiped away the wetness covering his cheeks, emanating from the tears that had flowed freely in the night. He looked at the clock on the wall at the foot of his bed. It showed 7am.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The pleasant warbling of the telephone next to Sallie’s bed in the hotel,
awoke Graham first. He was pleased to feel the sensation of arousal as he cuddled into the soft, warm body of his lover, an arm wrapped around her as she lay facing away from him. A smile crept onto his unshaven face and he began to let his hand explore the firm delights of her body. Sallie grunted, a comforting, satisfied grunt, as she pushed herself to the protrusion nudging against her.
The couple lay for several minutes, Graham entertaining thoughts of gentle love-making as a prelude to breakfast, and then he realised the phone was still ringing. Of course. The morning call.
To reach the telephone, it was necessary for him to roll across Sallie’s body and, his leg straddling her, he was half tempted to ignore the infernal machine and surrender to his temptation. However, sense prevailed and he took the call, thanking the exuberant Landlord and apologising for the delay. “Better things to do?” came the chuckled reply, full of knowing innuendo. Why else would he telephone Sallie’s room?
Replacing the instrument, Graham began to return to his side of the bed. As he rolled back over Sallie’s body, intentionally pressing to her, she opened her eyes. They were soft and dreamy, hitting at his sexual senses like a sledgehammer. He paused. T o hell with duty – let’s get at it! However, exercising great restraint, he tumbled from the bed and stood, stretching.