Just at that time it happened. It came from above and dove onto her neck.
Its mouth pierced her flesh and began to suck at her lifeblood at once.
Tracy knew that if she made it away from the beast she could still die
from the effects of the bite. The locals told her that she would burn
from the inside and her brain would boil inside her skull until she went
mad and died. She reached back to fight off the monster but her backpack
was in the way. Turning frantically, she ripped off her backpack and swung
at the beast. When she pulled her hand away she saw blood. Her blood.
Michael looked at her with amazement.
"I can feel the venom swelling in
my neck already", she stated. She looked at her hand and saw pieces of
the beast splattered about. "Damn, I hate mosquitos! I hope that one
didn't carry malaria."
Michael nodded, sympathizing with her.
Something small but unusual shaped scurried in between the shadows to their right.
"Did you see that?"
"See what?" Tracy inquired.
"There was something running over there in between those trees!"
"I didn't see anything," Tracy said, "Maybe it was a monkey."
Michael shuddered, thinking that it didn't look like a monkey, it looked alien. "Yeah, maybe you're right, it's probably just a monkey. Let's go."
They continued into the thick jungle using the machete to cut down overgrowth and to move away the giant spiderwebs that seemed to be everywhere. About a half an hour went by when Michael started feeling like they were being watched. Tracy could feel it too but didn't want to say anything because she just thought it was her overactive imagination. Shadows were closing all around them even though it was only mid-afternoon. The canopy of the jungle was very overgrown and it held in all of the humidity.
"Do you see that waterfall up ahead? It looks like the one on the map." Michael said.
"Thank God, let's take a break and maybe go for a swim"
"I agree we need a break but I'm not so sure about a swim, the map has a weird drawing next to the waterfall. It could be a warning."
"Warning, my ass! I need a swim, I'm sweating to death!" Tracy cried.
"All right, but let's be careful, okay?"
Tracy nodded
It took about fifteen more minutes before they reached the waterfall. It was beautiful. The water shimmered with an aqua glow and the sun broke through the canopy and glistened on the water inviting the two explorers to immerse their tired bodies within. Tracy was laughing as she ran up to the banks of the pool. She stripped off her backpack and began to unclothe. Michael walked up behind her and admired her beauty even though she hadn't washed in days. Pulling down her shorts and underwear, Tracy looked over her shoulder and winked at Michael. Maybe this waterfall wasn't cursed after all, Michael thought. Tracy dove into the water as Michael was still taking off his shirt.
"The water is wonderful - hurry up and you might get lucky." Tracy invited.
Michael was just about to jump in when he saw it. It was coming straight for Tracy.
"Get out of the water now!" Michael yelled.
Tracy thought he was joking until he pulled the .357 out of his backpack and aimed it just past her. She was in a near panic and her muscles almost failed to cooperate. The sound of the gun exploded through the air as Michael fired the weapon at the object. The bullets found purchase in the monstrosities flesh but it still pursued Tracy. She made it to the edge of the waterline as Michael emptied the chamber on the monster. He reached down and pulled Tracy from the water just as the abysmal creature closed in. It hit the edge of the beach with a dull thud and just lied there with its body riddled with bullets. The creature would push ichthyologists to the brink of insanity because nothing of it made sense. It had a set of teeth that were too big for its head and instead of gills it had what looked like a several openings that looked like nostrils. The tentacles were perhaps the scariest though, they were razor sharp with mouths on the ends of them. As Michael and Tracy stared dumbfounded at the carcass the water started to come to life. Hundreds of the creatures were making their way from the waterfall to the edge of the beach. Michael and Tracy grabbed their belongings as tentacles started to come out of the water near them. They didn't know if these creatures could walk on land or not and they didn't want to find out. They ran as fast as they could toward the jungle.
"What in the hell were those?" Tracy screamed.
"Shit, How in the hell am I supposed to know. I've never seen anything like that before."
Tracy put her clothes back on feeling vulnerable. "Thanks for saving me back there." Tracy said.
"I'm just glad we are both okay. Whatever those were, they're not normal," Michael stated, "Let's keep our eyes open for weird shit like this, okay?"
"No problem." Tracy replied.
They looked at the map noting that there were additional drawings which were on their course toward the ruins. The crude drawings made Tracy shudder. Michael reloaded the handgun as Tracy went over the map again.
"What do you suppose this drawing we already passed resembles?" Tracy questioned.
Michael looked at the strange drawing of what looked like a imp-like creature.
"I don't know. I didn't want to say anything but I saw something about a hour ago running through the bushes." Michael said.
"What! You didn't tell me?" Tracy said angrily.
"I thought it was a monkey, I didn't know there was weird shit out here." Michael stated.
"The warnings your father gave us before he died must be true," Tracy said. "He spent his whole life looking for these ruins and he barely made it back with a couple pieces of gold."
"I'm not taking any more chances," said Michael as he put the .357 in his holster. "I think you take out your Glock and keep it handy."
"You're damn right!" Tracy said with a wink.
They headed past the waterfall into the darkly covered jungle keeping an eye on the pond at all times. Sweat began to drip down their backs almost instantly upon entering the overgrowth. Michael stopped to admire some Aminitas mushrooms he knew were poisonous and that gave him an idea. His father had taught him a lot about the secrets of the jungle. The medicinal qualities of plants that could cure, kill or even create unusual hallucinations. Michael found the Jujumba, the liquid within the plant was known to be a favorite of the local Indian tribes. They dipped their arrow tips in it to kill monkeys while hunting. Michael stripped the plant in half, careful not to get any of the mucousy fluid on his hands. Tracy watched silently. Michael unloaded his gun and dipped his bullets into the fluid. The fluid dried almost instantly to the rounds. He motioned Tracy to give him her gun when the thing landed on her back. Tracy screamed. Michael jumped up and almost fell into the plant he tried so hard not to touch. It was the imp-thing. It's small hind legs were tearing at Tracy's backpack trying to strip flesh from her bones. Michael aimed his pistol at the black leathery creature. Its catlike yellow-orange eyes met Michael's and it jumped at him instantly. Michael dogged quickly to the left but the imp-thing was already on him. He feel on top of the creature trying to minimize the slashing hind legs. That's when he noticed the elongated sharp tongue flickering about its mouth. The tongue tried to pluck out his eyes but Michael rolled over just in time and pushed the foul beast back. The beast reached back to gain momentum to rip out Michael's throat. A fraction of a second later there was a ripping noise and the beast went limp. Tracy stood over the two of them with a blood-soaked machete. She almost chopped completely through the black-thing-from-hell. Michael rolled the cadaver off and suppressed the need to vomit.
"I, I love you, Tracy." Michael stuttered.
She knelt down beside him saying, "Don't ever leave me, I need you."
"I promise.", he said.
Michael's father had been the only living human to see the ruins and make it out alive. He and seven others went into this same jungle two years ago in search of the mysterious lost ruins of Cumchuka. Travis Harlow was an anthropologist that lived the life of Indiana Jones. He lived on the edge and went from one adventure to the next. His true mission in life was to find a lost culture that no one else has ever seen before. It seemed impossible since most of the planet has already been explored. He went deep into the Amazon, the Congo and even under the ocean 6,000 feet looking for the lost civilization of Atlantis. In his journeys he discovered bits of information here and there of a lost Indian tribe in the deepest of the Black Congo. This area was so brutal that explorers in the early 1900's went in with 75 support people and only two made it out alive. The jungle in this area is an enigma. Travis's team had experienced researchers and seasoned guides with cutting-edge technology, something the explorers at the turn of the century did not have. Things started to go wrong for them though. The first day into the jungle a tree rolled down an embankment and landed on Drake, the weapons expert, braking his legs as if they were twigs. Two people from the team had to carry him out to the landing strip and have him air-ambulanced to the nearest major city for surgery. The team doctor and zoologist were to catch up with the others as soon as possible. Travis never saw them alive again.
The team continued on for five days before the next disaster. The remaining four members were crossing a stream near a beautiful waterfall when Sim-Yung, the archeologist, was ravaged by numerous tentacled beasts. The water-borne creatures slashed at him cutting his legs off, then his hands. The mouths at the end of the tentacles attached themselves to the stumps and began to suck the blood from the screaming victim. Sim-Yung pleaded for help but the others knew he was doomed, just as Travis ran to render aid, a thrashing tentacle cut through the water and decapitated Sim-Yung in mid scream. Travis shot at the creatures but realized that it was over for the archeologist and that he needed to save his bullets. Now they were down to three and still no sign of the medical doctor or the zoologist. They saw other creatures as well, some off in the distance, some trying to have them for dinner. When they finally reached the ruins, only Travis and David were alive. Bill lost his life early that day to a giant centipede-looking creature. When Travis and David approached the lost city they were amazed by the architecture. It was unlike anything they had ever seen before. The entire city was underground with the exception of the towers and walls that guarded the entrance. The place was a virtual fortress. As the two approached, they spotted several misshapen skeletons that appeared to have been killed by booby traps. The fortress apparently came under attack from the beasts because trees had fallen on the walls in several spots providing access from the ground over the walls. Travis and David carefully climbed one of the newer trees over the wall and into the courtyard. The entrance to the underground city was impressive. Beautiful inlaid precious gems and diamonds graced the entrance floor. Within the courtyard there were numerous gold manhole sized grates that supplied natural sunlight to the city below while still providing protection. The remaining two adventures stepped over odd-looking skeletons...
The author comments, "If anyone would like to e-mail me and give me some ideas for this story, please be my guest. "
This story continues in the October contest.
"Cut the red wire," Drew said for a second time. "Then let's go get a beer." Michael nodded in agreement. "Here goes nothing." As they stepped out into the afternoon sun they realized how close they came to death. They were used to living on the edge though. Drew had escaped death's grasp twice before and Michael had lost count. "Now how about that beer?" They both smiled and went to the bar across the street.
At the bar they talked in whispers about what they were going to do next. "I think the scuba shop is a cover for an arms dealer, did you see the pictures on the walls?" Drew asked. "Yeah, and I know some of the people. They were with me in the Special Forces. Real silent killer types."
"Delta 9, do you read me? Delta 9 - what is your status?" crackled on the spaceship's comm link. "We are responding to your distress call - we are coming aboard to investigate". The Spaceguard rescue team, their characteristic yellow and red space suits reflecting off the battered hull, entered the airlock, opened the hatch, and slowly made their way past the debris in the corridor. "This is rescue leader Blue - there is no, I repeat, no remaining air in this compartment of Delta 9. I don't think we made it in time - it is unlikely that the pilot has survived the meteor strike as all the air has leaked out of the main cabin. Continuting to investigate, over". Turning left, they checked the remaining rooms until they found the pilot's body in the robot maintenace area. "This is rescue leader Blue - the pilot is dead. Poor bastard must have gone crazy suffering and waiting to die - it appears he lost a foot and applied a tournequet to the stump following the initial metor impact and then attempted suicide by drinking servo fluid and finally killed himself by driving a screwdriver through his chest."
Robert was a marine biologist. Well. not exactly his choice. Rachel wouldn't yield. She said that Robert had to be a marine biologist in order to fit the image of manhood that she had held since watching Jacques Cousteau as a child (not Jacques as a child, she as a child). Childish as it was, if it wasn't for the intense biological urges that welled up in Rob, each time Rachel was near...the same urges which Rachel did rob, from Rob, any chance of resolvement. Yet, here he was. Soaking wet. Trying to keep pace with the salmon at their mating time. It was Rachel's idea. To produce a documentary on salmon, swimming up stream, opposing the raging white water. Their sex-mad passion forcing them to overcome incredible odds in order to mate in the calm upper reaches of the same river in which they were born.
Rob was soaking wet. But that was part of it. Part of the image that Rachel was trying to capture on video camera from the banks of the raging river. Meanwhile, Rob was struggling to keep pace with the strongest of the salmon. It was complicated. First, he had to tag each salmon, according to its gender. Then, he had to record each one's profile and frontal characteristics with his own video camera. His hip waders had long since filled with water. His swimming goggles were completely fogged over. It was getting ever more difficult to keep his clipboard, with the data so vital for Rachel's doctoral theses, dry. On top of it, he was constantly losing his footing on the rocks, which were covered with aquatic, eukaryotic, photo synthetic organisms, and very slippery.
Just then, Rachel slipped off the bank and into the raging fast water of the swollen, raging river. Rob, in true scientific tradition, caught the event on his camera. Then he recorded the time, climactic conditions, together with a long list of other data which Rachel had designed. Then, he sealed his gear in a waterproof bag and marked it with a buoy and an American flag. Just as he was doing that, Rachel swept by. Rob became aroused. Aroused, and determined, to save Rachel from being washed out to sea and possible water damage. Damage, which he, Rob, felt could be irrevocable, since Rachel couldn't swim. And as Rob bobbed after Rachel, he couldn't help but dwell on how incongruous it was, that as he, Rob, was swimming frantically for his life, downstream toward resolvement of his insatiable desire, the salmon were doing exactly the same thing, in the opposite direction.
Gleek had noticed, that for some time, Borf had been using the sensitive control panel as a wailing wall. What he hadn't noticed was that Borf was stamping out an independent and irregular rhythm with his foot. He was doing this on a top of a secret lever (the one that automatically dispatched two outrigger seines, which, in turn, gathered space conkles for the Captain's lunch). Gleek was in the process of ringing the Captain when he noticed this activity. He slowly replaced the ear piece of the antique standup telephone. The Captain had strict instructions about not being disturbed while eating his favorite lunch of conkles, served on space biscuits. Space biscuits were a delicate pastry derived from residue found in pipes, which ran from the toilet compartment to the galley.
Gleek walked to the rear of the cockpit. It seemed only a few steps yet, due to the oscillating warp speeds they were experiencing, he found that he was several light-years away and a mere child. Therefore, he was unable to reach the normalcy control lever located high on the bulkhead . He stamped his foot petulantly and then noticed a baseball bat laying or lying (as a child he was not clear which) on the deck. Dragging the bat, he returned to Borf's side.
He began to walk gingerly on the outside surface of the cosmos. He couldn't actually see into the cosmos. But, he could see reflected on its surface very odd and unusual shapes of all the eternal moons that he had studied in space camp as a child. He couldn't see the actual moons since they were hidden in total eclipse. The concept that was holding everything in eclipse was Eternity. There was a sign, it read, "If you got this far you can't go back. If you do go back, you can't get this far." Gleek was confused. He glanced at his watch. The hour hand was moving counterclockwise in a strange jerky movement. Gleek looked again. It was actually doing the bugaboo, using the minute hand as a limbo stick. The second hand was quietly clapping its approval. Gleek took off his watch and shook it. Then he shook himself. "...was there a good place to eat around here?," he thought ponderously.
Gleek came to what seemed like an intersection. Here the Space Time Continuum stopped abruptly and its eternal counterparts turned back on themselves in a manner that reminded him of the seven hills of San Francisco, with out the hills. At the foot of the first of the hills that wasn't there was a sign pointing toward the seventh hill. He read the sign.
that, each thing eat a larger thing
then, holding bursting sides
explode, or from strong stomach wring
truth, where simple truth resides
Gleek was confused and Gleek was hungry. He looked down to see if he could see his ribs showing. Nothing there! He scratched his head in wonder. Nothing There! Undaunted, knowing that he had plenty of time, Gleek started walking toward the seventh hill.
Basil tossed the cards offhandedly to Zeb.
Zeb rifled the deck to his ma saying, "Ma I would surly be obliged ifin you was to deal." At this, Basil spat, "I ain't havin no woman deal to me in no card gam...AIIEEE!" Basil's comment ended in a shrill of pain. The pain was due to the impact of the twelve-inch barrel of Zeb's twelve-shot revolver. "Well," Zeb drawled, "That's one collar bone. Want to make it two?" Basil, rubbing his newly-broken bone with his horribly mangled gun hand, smiled demurely and then giggled crazily. Suddenly, Basil's bunched brow blanched in stark contrast to his crooked black teeth. An evil smile appeared, replacing an evil grimace. "Sure, sure. Ma go right ahead and dea...AIIEEE!" "She ain't your ma, Basil. Now, that's two collar bones. Want to try for three?"
Ma yelled out, "Five card draw jacks or better down and dirty WAHOO!" and daintily dealt out the cads. Basil, just as daintily, began to slip an ace from the sleeve of his buffalo coat. Ma started fussing with her hair. Zeb began to whistle innocently. "AIIEEE!" screamed Basil. Every eye in the bar turned and fixed on their table. More specifically on the person from whom emitted the ear-piercing scream. More exactly on what caused the scream to take place in the first place. Each eye was gifted with a view of the decorative end of one of Ma's hat pins driven to the hilt in Basil's wrist. Protruding from beneath Basil's wrist, pinned securely by the hat pin, which in turn was driven through the solid oak table top, was an ace of spades.
Ma readjusted her hat now, using one less hat pin.
At the same time, as she rocked back in her inseparable rocker, she cleated,
with her foot, the pointy end of the hat pin protruding through the underside
of the round oak card table. "Well", drawled Zeb, "it looks like your luck's
beginnin' to run out, Basil. Now, just hand over all that gold ya stole from
Ma back yonder, and ya can wear this here table as a wrist charm. Or," Zeb continued,
"we can use the table for your grave marker." Basil's dentures had fallen
out. But while nodding agreement and mumbling incoherently,
with his good hand he reached for a satchel of gold. He thought of drawing a
hidden gun from its hiding place in a suede holster, sewn into his underwear.
However, he noticed that Ma was fussin' with her hat again, and changed his
mind. "Besides," he reminisced, "I ain't changed my underwear since Saint
Louis, and I don't want to take no chances."
Once Zeb had the satchel of gold, Ma said, "Nice goin', son, I knowed you would get the gold. Now, we can buy that little ranch we be a dreamin' of." Zeb permitted himself a rare smile. So rare that a rather large quantity of western acreage cracked off his face and fell onto the table. "You're right Ma," Zeb said in a magical tone, "maybe ifin we stop long enough, Pa can cetch up to us." Meanwhile, Basil was alternatively rolling his eyes and scratching around where his underwear should have been. "Yip, Son, that man could track a water bug across a lake on a rainy day." "You're right Ma," Zeb said, his tone had changed to one of enchantment. "And just to make sure, we'll rig your rocker up as a travoise."
During this time, Basil had been surreptitiously maneuvering his good hand toward the top of his boot, so that he could draw his throwing knife, in order to administer his own style of frontier justice for a change... "AIIIEEEE," exclaimed Basil, alarmingly. Zeb looked down to see - although no one had seen Ma move, one of her hat pins, neatly cleated and sticking through not only Basil's good hand, but also through both sides of one of Basil's hand tooled leather boots. What seemed to be causing Basil the most concern, however, was the fact that it was a boot that he was wearing at the time. "Nice goin', Ma, I knowed you was goin' to be handy on this trip. Let's go over to the general store and load you up on some more of them hat pins," Zeb said with a chuckle as he helped Ma up out of her rocker. As he did so, a large piece of cactus became dislodged from his clothing. The tines fell, and stuck, into the festering wound on Basil's crushed gun hand, still impaled on the table. "AIIIEEEEE!"
Off they started. Zeb waved his hat dramatically at the postmaster. The horse snorted and blew flecks of lye soap at the hostler, Ma gave a whoop and leaned into her harness. The rocker gave a lurch and moved forward. As they passed the general store, Zeb hefted a roll of barbed wire and slung it on the rocker to top off the load. Zeb looked down at his Ma. "Watch your step, Ma. It'll be a rocky, uphill climb today and I don't want to lose any of them supplies offen that there travoise." "Don't worry none about me, Son. I ain't had so much fun since me and Pa was a plowin' rock on thet mountain back home."
Zeb wasn't listening. He had his left eye trained on the strange Apache smoke signals, rising ominously from the right of the mountain trail just ahead. The other was focused , with idle curiosity, on the ugly, black storm clouds moving rapidly in from the left.
If only someone would save Felicia! Enter the contest, please!
"Howdy, Ma'am"By craning her neck backward, over the cold steel train rail, Felicia could see a tall cowboy on an even taller horse. "Ma name's Fletch, Mam. I was just a gallopin' by and couldn't help but overhear your pitiful little voice a callin' for help. And say, aren't you the young lady that came in on the stage the other day?" The man called Fletch continued conversationally.
"Move on drifter, we don't need your kind around here." The comment came from none other that his holiness from noble lineage Sir Lord Murgatroyd. As he spoke he began drawing a small derringer from his vest pocket.
Fletch liked to think of himself as a multiple personality. Not the type referred to in the psychiatric journals that he loved to read, but the type that loved to do multiple things at the same time. In keeping with that tradition he began to demonstrate his skill.
While springing into a one-arm handstand on his saddle's pommel, he tipped his hat to the young lady. Then he performed a graceful, if some what daring, dismount. A backward somersault in layout position with a half twist. As he landed lightly on his toes, he whipped out his bandana, flicked off a particle of dust from his left boot, while kicking his adversary in the chin with the other, replaced the bandana, rolled a cigarette, placed it in his mouth, drew and shot his Lordships earlobes off. He then lit his cigarette with his left hand while with his right he wrenched the derringer from Lord Murgatroyd, forced it into his Lordship's mouth and compelled him to swallow it.
"Now," Fletch spoke so slow that everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. "Mr. Whatever your name is, I reckon ya better eat bland food for a few days or that little snacker ya just et might give ya a case of indigestion." with that , Fletch turned toward Felicia, lifted her gently in his arms and carried her in the direction of his giant horse, Habibi, a gift from an Arab prince. As Fletch looked down into Felicia's eyes, he couldn't help thinking that it might be nice to multiply their personalities together.