As the first ray of light streamed over the jungle canopy, we breathed a little easier. The horror of the night lingered - blanketing our minds, shrouding our spirits, but it was finally time for action. With three still guarding, the rest quickly packed up and we were ready to move. There was no hesitation as we cut straight into the jungle towards the path. Our only chance was to try and leave the hollow as soon as possible in the hope that the creature only came out at nightfall.
Chatra believed that if we followed the trail, we would reach the opposite end of the valley within several hours, so we moved forward at a generous pace. The path led in the direction we felt would bring us out of there, so we continued.
The morning wore on as our group pressed forward through the trees, and as before there was not a sign of any living animal. Now the truth was known. There was no beast alive that would be a match for this deadly predator. It was gaining on midday when I started to wonder if the trail would lead us out. There still was no hint of any incline, and the valley seemed endless. The morning remained uneventful but I wanted to be well out of the hollow by afternoon.
We trudged onward without rest, tired and silent. Everyone shared the same thoughts. The events of the previous night had drained us emotionally and physically. Sheer force of will and fear drove us forward.
It was early afternoon when the company halted unexpectedly. I was still in the rear with Saric when the terrain became softer but seemed to have a slight incline. I believed we were nearing the other side at last. The vegetation was incredibly thick here and the path narrowed sharply. A mist started to form around us and the air grew damp. Our visibility decreased sharply when the trackers stopped and called for me to come forward. As I made my way to the front, the brush opened up and I let out a gasp.
The path abruptly ended into a vast bog with no end in sight, blocking our forward progress. There were several yells of dismay at our predicament, and an uneasy suspicion crept into my head.
“Fool, I am a bloody fool!” I yelled. “All this time we blindly trusted to this trail, never bothering to question the intent of it. Why was it here and who made it? The answer lies before us. That creature is the maker of the path for its own vile purpose, and now it has led us to this abysmal swamp!”
The choices, which lay before us, were grim. We could try and pick our way through it, skirt around the edge hoping to find an end, or go back through the hollow, knowing that we would face another night there.
None of us voted for the last choice so we decided to find a way through the swamp. Within only a few yards from the edge, the footing became treacherous. Knee deep in mud, the men tried to find a means of passage out of the murky waters.
The fog was thickening now that we were at the source, and it swirled lazily between the dead tree trunks that had fallen victim to the unquenchable thirst of the bog. Unseen insects droned in the distance, an occasional bullfrog croaked across the dismal fen, as if in mockery of our plight. I could just make out the back of Woods in front me when we came across an area of deep mud that reached our thighs. If this were to become any deeper, we would be forced to turn back.
I yelled up to Woods to check with the trackers and make sure the mud did not get deeper. After a minute he told me to bear to the right where the going was easier. The slime was now up to my midsection and I began to sink lower.
Quicksand!
“Woods!” I yelled. “Rope, now!” He yelled up to the others and they turned back to help. The soft mud did not allow for faster action and I knew better than to struggle, although I was immersed up past my waist now and still sinking. I had forgotten about Saric when I heard a short cry in back of me.
The guide was chest deep in the mire and looking frantically for something to grab onto. There was an old tree half submerged several yards from him but just out of reach. His situation looked desperate.
“Hurry! Saric is trapped!” The men took their rope out and Woods now retrieved it, but the deep mud hampered his progress. Saric was in a panic now, and this only made his situation worse.
“Hold, man! Don’t move!” I tried to calm him down but he was overcome with fear. Woods threw out a length of rope to me but was off mark. My own predicament was worsening as I continued sinking. Again Woods tossed the rope and this time I grabbed the end.
He tugged and I didn’t budge. Landers was almost at his side now, and looking back I could only see Saric’s head. There was not much time left. Landers helped to pull and now Robinson was there as well. The men had to stay back unless they were to share our fate. They needed firmer footing for leverage. I yelled encouragement to Saric but his arms flailed wildly about, his head tilted to keep from swallowing the mud.
The three men slowly pulled me out and I was gasping for air as they dragged me through the sludge. When I was out far enough, Robinson came toward me and Woods threw the rope towards Saric, but it was too late.
We watched helplessly as his right arm hovered over the surface for an instant, then vanished into the depths of the swamp.
Chatra had not said a word, but his eyes betrayed the bitter loss of his kinsman. The rest of us were in great despair - exhausted, frightened, hungry, and unsure of when the swamp would end. We went ahead a bit where more solid ground was to be found and rested.
I felt an odd sensation on my leg and found a huge black leech beneath my pants, blood seeping from my skin. I cut the foul parasite out with my knife and Robinson said bitterly, “I guess there is life down here anyway.” I spat in disgust.
“You know, that mud swallowed us up so quickly, we scarcely had time to react. The experience I have learned with quicksand is patience and do not struggle. That mire went against everything I know. Poor Saric didn’t have a prayer.”
“This hollow has its own laws,” answered Landers. “What we have seen so far defies explanation. Does our guide have any idea of our whereabouts?” Robinson conversed with the taciturn native and replied. “He is unsure of the direction. The mist and swamp have distorted his tracking skills. His choice would be to go where the ground seems more solid, and he believes that will take us further north. I agree, and the sooner the better. The day grows old.”
His statement brought back our earlier fears and off we went.
The footing began to improve and our spirits began to rise as we reached solid ground and left the swamp behind us. Our progress increased and the vegetation was less oppressive on this side. The mist was still with us but not quite as thick. We were in the same twilight since late that morning, and darkness would fall early unless we could reach some higher ground. I called for a short break and Chatra was convinced that the region was starting to level upwards. Finishing quickly, our group moved off once more and we could see that nightfall was nearly upon us.
We had changed formation now with Robinson walking behind me since the loss of Saric. He had insisted on it and we all stayed close, in single file and everyone within a few yards of each other. The ground had definitely begun to slope upward and we finally reached the bottom edge of the valley. The last reservoir of our strength was being tapped, as we knew the end was within sight.
The trees opened up and there before us was the cliff side, but much steeper than we had anticipated. Rocks and boulders were strewn all around and the footing looked treacherous.
I grimly told the men to spread out to reduce the risk of us all being caught in a fall, and up we went. The ascent called for extreme caution, as the ground was loose with numerous rocks and jagged edges all about. A cluster of large boulders lay about a hundred yards above us, and beyond that was a thick area of brambles and high brush before the cliff leveled off.
Darkness had fallen and we were nearing the rocks when Landers let out a curse. Looking up, we spotted a black figure standing among the rock pile, eyes glittering bright yellow.
The creature stood motionless for a moment and then sprang onto an outcropping of huge boulders several dozen yards above us. I knew what it had in mind an
d with an immense show of power it loosened two huge rocks tumbling down upon us.
We all tried to scatter but there was no time. One of the boulders headed straight at Robinson, barely missing myself. He was hit square on and toppled helplessly beneath it down the cliff.
Another one passed between Woods and Landers, and they narrowly avoided it. Landers flattened against the ground but Woods was not so fortunate. The movement to avoid being crushed made him lose his balance and he fell off the wall. I watched as he rolled sideways over and over again, battering against the sharp rocks.
He didn’t stop until he was near the bottom and there he remained, unmoving.
In all the mayhem, Chatra was the only one to take action. He had continued up to the rock pile with his rifle in hand. I watched as he came within yards of the creature, which now made no attempt to seek cover. I yelled for him not to get too close, and I brought up my gun to aim.
The creature stood still, and I could see its unblinking gaze was fixed on the native. Chatra pointed his sights on the beast and in that second it chose to move.
With startling agility, it leapt to the right and crouched on top of a large rock formation. Chatra squeezed off several rounds but the monster was already in action. I could not shoot for fear of hitting the guide, so I watched what ensued in horror.
The creature leapt closer to the tough native, and Chatra whipped out his long knife. The beast feinted left, and then in a blur of lightning speed closed on the hapless man and gave him a crushing blow to the skull. It picked up the unconscious victim and dashed him onto the rocks below.
Enraged, I fired at the demon, and found a target at last. One of my shots struck it in the chest and it howled its hatred at me. It fell on one clawed limb, and I unloaded the rest of my stock, connecting several more times.
Down it fell, the eyes dimming. In its last breath, it screamed in such anguish that I nearly collapsed right there. I lay on the ground, still not believing that the beast was dead. I crawled forward and confirmed my hopes. It lay there lifeless, an unknown creature that leant substance to the native folklore, and with good reason.
I peered down to the bottom of the cliff trying to make out the body of Woods - but where was Landers? I had caught a glimpse of him trying to reach Woods, but now he was gone as well. Maybe he would appear at the top of the cliff, waiting for me.
Woods might yet be alive, although how badly injured I dared not think. I made my way carefully in the dark and found him lying there, and my worst fears were realized. The only thing left for me now was to get out of the hollow and reach the village, but without my men, although I still hoped to find Landers. I sobbed and cursed our ill fortune, but there was nothing I could do to ease my anguish.
As I started upwards, a noise broke the silence that froze every nerve in my body. A blood-curdling howl echoed through the night, coming down from the cliff.
There was another creature.
The final shred of my hope vanished as it was answered by another scream, this one coming from the jungle. There were several of these monsters, and they had come to avenge their fallen brethren.
And now I hear a howl much closer in the trees behind me, and I can sense its presence as it hunts me. My rifle is empty and all I have left is my hunting knife, which is useless against such a demon.
All I have time for is regret as I await the approach of my enemy.
Rift
Greg stared at Marc’s deadly serious face. He peered into the dark eyes of emerald sea-ice trying to discern the clouded thoughts that lay buried within. Marc wore a painted countenance of stony indifference, the ex-marine unreadable.
“Bastard,” said Greg.
“Will you two stop it? Geez!” Pete Wilson towered above the mahogany, octagon-shaped table, his fists curled into tight balls as he watched the men stare each other down. “This is absolutely insane.”
The room was silent as the two adversaries sat in cushioned, high-backed chairs, the tension palpable in the cozy room which served as Greg’s den, replete with bar, billiard table, wide-screen television, and shag-rug carpeting, like a tacky seventies bachelor pad.
“I don’t believe this. I’m getting another drink.” Pete walked away, tapping a draught from the beer meister.
Greg could take no more, and he slammed his hand down on the table. “You win! I’m out.”
A mirthless grin creased Marc’s tan face. He held up his palm for Greg to see as Pete returned, chugging from a frosted mug. Pete broke into a low chuckle at the misery pasted onto Greg’s clean-shaven face, clapping him on the back with a meaty hand. “Suckered you again, my friend.”
In Marc’s hand was a pair of deuces and sixes.
Greg grabbed his hair and tugged at both sides. “You bluffed me again, you son -”
“Don’t say it. Gambling is a bad enough vice, and now you want to curse me as well?” Marc spread his lean arms out like a bear, and slowly pulled the poker chips toward his sizable pile in a slow, deliberate motion, savoring every second, smacking his lips together.
“With a face like that, you should have been a lawyer, you know that? Bet you lie to your own priest,” Greg said disgustedly.
“What a sore loser,” answered Marc. “Do you hear this, Pete? In one fell swoop he assassinates my character and my good looks. What’s next? Is he going to kick my dog?”
Pete and Marc both laughed as Greg lumbered over to the bar, his smaller, stocky frame turned away from them. “If it was here I would,” he said, shaking his head, the wispy blond hair falling neatly back into place.
“I’m kind enough to invite you idiots over, and all I get is an empty wallet and cheap insults. Clowns.”
Pete doubled over, laughing ferociously. Marc waved his hands in the air, pretending to play a violin. Pete followed his lead and started an old country song about broken hearts and lost dreams.
“Spare me.” Greg picked up the remote from the Formica-topped bar, flicking through the channels, stopping as a red blip passed across the screen. “Hey, check this out.”
“What is it, the sympathy channel?” answered Pete, joining Marc’s ghostly serenade by prancing about in an exaggerated waltz.
“That’s funny, remember who lost last month? You were crying the blues about your high payment on that gas-guzzling SUV you just bought, looking for mercy from both of us.”
“That was then, this is now, we don’t live in the past, do we, Marc?”
Marc nodded his shaved head, setting down his imaginary violin and making a sweeping bow. Pete looked at the screen, still grinning. His smile faded as he read the warning that scrolled across the picture. “Wow, that looks like one nasty storm coming.”
“We’re right in the middle, too.” Greg pointed with his index finger. Sue and Lisa better stay off the roads until it passes.”
“Why don’t you call them, maybe they don’t know how bad it’s supposed to get.” Marc sat down on a recliner, looking up at the single window in the room. Fat raindrops splattered against the square glass panel, and thunder rumbled ominously in the distance. The noise was like a freight train approaching at a furious pace, and they looked nervously at each other.
“Look,” said Pete, rising up from his seat. “I’ve never such intensity.” Greg had changed the channel to the local forecast, and their town was directly in the center projection of the storm’s path, the radar image at the maximum level.
“I’ll get out the oil lamps, wouldn’t be surprised if we lost the electricity. Let’s just hope we don’t get hit with a tornado.”
All humor in the room faded as they stared at the window. Greg opened the closet, grabbing a flashlight and supplies.
“It’s almost on us.” Pete tapped the bar with restive fingers, biting his lip. The storm raged outside, streaks blaring through the window like a macabre strobe light. The fluorescent bulbs overhead went out for a brief moment, then flickered back on. The wrath of the storm was mounting, the thunderclaps echoing into the ro
om like cannon fire.
“Holy -” Marc jumped up, as a bolt struck nearby.
“No swearing here, remember?” yelled Greg sarcastically, lighting the wick on a tall oil lamp. “You’re not afraid of a little rain, now are -” His sentence was cut off as a tremendous explosion ripped through the house, sending him sprawling to the floor.
Pete fell headlong into the bar, knocking his head against the top, while Marc tumbled over the recliner. The entire structure shook as the earth vibrated with staggering force, the liquor bottles behind the bar collapsing to the carpet, two paintings careening from the walls. The quake lasted for several seconds as the terrified men groped blindly in the dark as the lights went out.
The wind was knocked out of Greg as he landed hard on his ribs, feeling a sharp stab of pain on his left side from the impact. A high-pitched tone resonated from outside, thin and piercing, similar to a whistle, but much louder, wavering through the air and increasing to an ear-splitting crescendo before reaching unbearable levels.
Then everything stopped. The noise was gone, the shaking finished. Scarcely daring to breathe, Greg crawled forward on hands and knees, dazed and shaking. “You guys all right?”
Marc whispered from several feet away. “I think so. What happened? An earthquake?”
“Maybe.” Greg searched for his flashlight in the pitch-black room. “Sounds like the storm is gone, at least. I hate to see the damage upstairs. Hey Pete?”
His friend failed to answer, and he called again.
“Pete, you all right?” Concern filled his quivering voice at the lack of response. “Marc, are you near him?”
“Don’t know. Can’t see a thing down here.”
Restless Shades Page 4