The daily sunset ritual was being performed somewhere deep in the jungle. It was a ritual common to the area, but this time a special element had to be added. The chants and praises began. The land was in danger—it knew, they knew it, and even the eyes knew it. The spirits, however, were the first ones to know it. They were angry, and it was inevitable for things to get ugly.
Lost souls would especially be upset at the situation at hand. Life was all energy, and so were the spirits, and the trees, and animals. The intruders were the energy supply the spirits sought. This was ancient stuff. Magic and sorcery passed down through the generations as told by stories. The myths were now being tested.
Why did the ancients call her Mother Earth? Is it because she is really alive and gives birth to splendid life every day? Is it because she supports life and is the sole reason we are able to exist? The ancients would answer yes to all of these questions, but the real question was: Could the spirits be called upon? The ancients probably would say yes to that as well.
So the sun began to set, giving its last thirty minutes of daylight. This was important because tradition was imbued in the setting of the sun. This event was even considered a separate God in some ancient cultures, and some of these people have never been contacted by modern day civilization but are still around today. That is how vast the jungles are in which the trespassers found themselves. There are even plants, insects, and animals living here that are undiscovered and extremely rare, many different trees, plants, and vines that may or may not be dangerous to humans.
The chants were now going once more, and somehow there seemed to be a deeper emotion to the chanting. They were all aware intruders were on the loose. The purpose of the chants was to assure the trees, the spirits, and all of those eyes were included in this ritual. Together, they would watch closely and defend their home from these very intruders.
The situation was about to get spiritual. The spirits were all called upon, and anyone who departed prematurely might find themselves wandering the jungle for quite a while. Upset by their spiritual entrapment, they might decide to do something haunting.
A thin mist began to lift from the earth, making it even more difficult to see.
Klinton and Brutus were the first to experience the worsening conditions. After climbing that hill and going their separate ways, they hoped to meet on the other side. The first task was not to fall in the middle, because just below could be a sink hole. It could even be some type of trap, and they were cautious enough not to find out. They were just about a small arc's length from meeting, but they were unaware of this fact because visibility was not up to par.
The sight of Captain Briscoe and Agent Beavers wasn't any better. The fact that they were a little lost was the proof, and they began to get frustrated. It was funny because, just before the chants, it seemed as if they knew exactly where they were.
"Where the hell are we going! We've been walking around in this forest for a while, with no sign of anyone, but plenty signs of everything. Are we lost? I thought you were this jungle scout that rich guy hired. Don't you know your way around?"
Briscoe remained silent and continued to cut through the massive green floristry.
"I figured you'd know your way around this here jungle, after all you're Richard's right hand man, aren't you. Y'all have already explored this, haven't you? How far are we from camp? It's gotten dark and maybe the fact that we can't see far ahead is why we're lost. So I don't blame you or nothing. I just want you to say something, for crying out loud. I mean, it is dark and a mist is beginning to lift—look at it. I can nearly scoop some up with my hand, it's so thick. Hey! Is this typical for this type of climate?"
Roy rambled on, but Briscoe was less talkative. He concentrated more on cutting the two a path to walk through.
"Answer me. I haven't heard any of the crew. Do you even know where you're going!?" Roy's peaceful ways became disrupted.
The owners of the eyes that watched them made sounds Roy's ears could not register. Those eyes were the cause for his uneasiness, and the fact that they were fixed on Roy didn't help.
The forest sounds echoed. In some areas it was intense, as Klinton was the first to find out. He glanced up at strange birds nesting in a huge tree. They were gorgeous and could probably be found in many other trees other than the one above him. He noticed those eyes first, but then he saw there were beautiful stripes of many different colors. A true tropical symbol was in his sight, but because of the night the true elegance could not be experienced.
He tried to walk forward, but what he could see of the bird had him captivated, thus making the eyes that watched him go unnoticed. He didn't move a step forward because of this trance. Luckily so, because the spot before him was unsafe and it seemed the birds may have saved his life. On the other hand, they may have had nothing to do with anything at all. However, he continued to watch them with astonishment.
He began now to notice other eyes within the trees. The dimness of light made him concentrate a little more, merely rendering him hypnotized. Even the footsteps that clattered seemed to be ignored, but Klinton's ears were not impaired like his eyesight. He finally snapped out of his daze by looking down, away from the birds, because for a brief moment he thought he saw a buck-naked man.
Klinton's astonishment forced him to step sideways instead of forward, only to try and capture a better view of the nude man. It was hard to see, so he began to decline the slope, as if a trance made him do it. It was not easy as it seemed, because slippery was not the word. Klinton began to slide downhill fast. Soon his slide became uncontrollable, and Klinton shouted, "Shit, ohhh damn!"
He had even lost interest in what started the ruckus in the first place. However, he did give some concern to the buck-naked man running loose. He was of color, and I'm the only one on the trip... Klinton continued to ponder, Well not as colorful as this! Strange, this nude man disappeared so cleverly???
Klinton's tumble helped stymie his awareness, ultimately making his once limited eyesight now useless. Besides, the effort it took to try and stop his freefall was tremendous. He wouldn't recover soon enough because he had smacked himself unconscious on a huge tree stump. Blood dripped from the wound that was caused by the impact, and those eyes didn't stop watching. Except for maybe the eyes of those lovely birds he once had watched.
Brutus had reached the point where they were to meet. He looked around for his employee, but to no avail. Brutus walked on, looking all around for Klinton. He had no interest in the jungle's beauty as Klinton had. He was more programmed to just work, and he only kept his eyes on any other eyes he noticed. He was a survivalist.
He was now on Klinton's side of the circle where he had fallen. His eyes noticed that the hill rose again about a hundred meters ahead. It proved to be very uneven ground. Brutus began to approach the small hill, and all of a sudden, he heard a whip sound and Brutus's ankle was caught in some type of trap. It swiftly hurled him upward attached to a tree branch, leaving him upside down.
"Ahhh!!!" exclaimed Brutus. He continued to yell and plead for someone to rescue him. Klinton couldn't hear, because he was lying there half asleep.
He hung there wondering how in the hell this could have happened. Many thoughts rushed through, even though he shouted continuously for help. Goddamn, an ancient tree trap. This is ridiculous. I thought this only happened in movies. A man walking along the woods is sprung into the air and left hanging by one leg, the one who somehow managed to step on misfortune. The one who now is being strangled by the leg, with some device made of terribly tough vine, and other immediately unidentifiable accessories. Oh, and that someone had to be my dumb ass.
He thought about this momentarily while entertaining a recess to his distress calls. One thing for sure, his ankle hurt from the primitive entrapment that tore away at the skin on his ankle. It would not let go, and his weight and gravity caused the peeling of his skin. The bawling contributed to his energy depletion, along with the fact that most of his blood rushed to the top of his head. It rendered him silent for a moment, nearly fading him into unconsciousness.
His eyes did remain slightly open, but that didn't help because delusion set in. He surely could not see clearly, and the fact that he cared not to look at anything other than what could harm him did not help. That was his rationale all along. If it wasn't something that would increase efficiency in his work, then he figured there was no need for it. So he had paid no attention to the eyes that watched him from the forest. Of course not!
Nevertheless, even though his attention to his surroundings was at a bare minimum, the eyes that watched him were all the more heedful. In fact, they were always alert and paid strict attention to anything lurking. He hung there like a sitting target, completely vulnerable and with no way to get free. The eyes registered his predicament and realized the threat was immobilized. However, one particular set already knew of Brutus and his incapacitation. They watched from around the unusually large tree from just beyond his sight.
The eyes that watched Roy and Briscoe were also unnoticed because these two were too busy trying to find their way back from their far-off wandering. Another contributing factor was Briscoe's attempt to ignore Roy's complaints, and Roy was too busy complaining to notice anything. That, and perhaps fear also, caused Roy not to want to notice anything, especially anything that could be watching him.
All of a sudden Briscoe halted.
"What's wrong," exclaimed Roy in his usually frail voice.
"Nothing. I think that hill will allow access to camp. We need to go over it."
"Well? What are you waiting for? I'm ready!"
The two gentlemen proceeded toward the hill.
"What now!" exclaimed Roy, wondering why Briscoe had stopped again.
"I think that's a body laying up there," declared Briscoe.
"Wait a minute, a body! Can you really see something? It is kind of dim with the sun's recent departure."
"I know! I have good eyesight, and I think that's a body lying there."
"Oh no man, what's a body doing lying around here? It may be one of the crew."
Briscoe ran quickly forward, briefly leaving Roy in his tracks. Roy caught up with Briscoe momentarily.
"I think this is that Klinton guy. He's just lying here. It looks like he injured his head. We need to help him."
Briscoe watched Klinton, and Roy watched Briscoe help Klinton, and the eyes watched them all.
Meanwhile, Professor Julian Akbar pulled a thick elephant branch back and walked out into an open space. His eyes filled with splendor, and adrenaline and excitement filled him. His life had flashed right before his eyes and the threat was coming from three different directions.
He shouted, "Hold it, Hold it, wait a minute. What's the problem? Put those things away. What is the matter with you all? What has caused the paranoia?"
The guns of the agents were put away, but no one answered him. Instead they looked over towards Joe, and Akbar instantly received the message.
"Oh... my! What caused this?"
"No one knows. We were cautious upon your arrival because we don't know how this happened. You could have been..."
"Point taken, sir. So what is the story?"
Kyser scratched his arms and neck while informing the professor, "Well, there is something very strange about this man's death."
"What do you mean?"
"It appears to be a trap, and this branch is apparently part of it, but it just doesn't add up."
"Hey! We're not here to investigate."
"Yeah, I agree. Let's head back to camp."
The group began to leave the area and head back to camp. Pam stood there as she now became the obvious one to trail the group. She couldn't keep her eyes off of Joe. It seemed as if Joe was trying to tell her something, or that he was delaying her for some reason. It was possibly just captivation that caused her idle stare.
That same type of stare was on Brutus, as those eyes watched him. He hung there, just about to shut his eyes, for his entrance into the unconscious state was imminent. The eyes of a non-civilized being approached and stood right in front of Brutus with an incomprehensible stare and long spear in his left hand. The paint of summoning was decorated over his body, but primarily his face. Walking around Brutus, the misunderstood one began to dance primitively around him. He began to chant an undetermined phrase that produced sounds of harmonizing parallel to the chants and praises that echoed deep within the forest.
These noises awakened Brutus, but only from being unconscious. His eyes slowly began to open and he noticed this buck-naked man dancing around him. This caused terror within because Brutus now confirmed his previous thoughts. His thoughts began to rush again. Oh shit... I've been captured by some cannibalistic tribe.
He thought he was surely dead as well. "Help! Oh shit! Help! Help!" he grunted and moaned now from the struggle to get free. Fear had now compromised his vocal chords, causing distortion. Nevertheless, he screamed frantically, "Oh no, get the fuck away." He feared the tribesman was about to stick him with that spear. His sudden scream actually jolted him forward. He began to swing on the very contraption that hung him. This swinging action allowed him to bump the tribesman timidly. The nude one ran off, deep within the forest.
At a small distance away, Pam heard an echo. It snaps her out of her trance, prompting her to try to catch up with the crew. Brutus continued to scream.
"Hey Kyser, I think I hear something."
Kyser halted the group to hear what Pam had to say. However, Briscoe and Roy heard the screams. They were just next to Brutus. Those shouts from Brutus along with Briscoe and Roy's chanting finally awakened Klinton.
"Oh, my god," exclaimed Klinton as he finally confronted the pain that awaited him. An excruciating throb worse than any migraine pulsated from under his wound. However, he thought about his boss as he heard screams for help.
Briscoe helped Klinton up. "It sounds like it's coming from there." They darted in the direction of the screams.
"Oh my!" Roy exclaimed.
"What the...," declared Briscoe.
"Oh shit... Brutus...," shouted Klinton running towards him to get a better view. "Brutus! How did this happen?" yelled Klinton while the other two called for help. "How are we going to get him down?"
"I don't know, just keep calling for help."
Meanwhile, Kyser advised Pam that he didn't think she actually heard anything. "What is it Pam?"
Disapprovingly, Pam said nothing, but continued listening. She couldn't hear them right at the moment, and Kyser's continuous interruptions did not help the matter.
"You see, there's no one screaming. Come on. The rest of the crew is probably waiting for us at the camp."
The others agreed, but for some reason, Pam remained still.
"Let her stay there and hear ghosts," Wesley exclaimed.
Pam did not agree as she began to hear, or maybe just possibly sense, those screams again, but this time the volume seemed to be doubled. Pam ran off in the direction of the screams, and the crew turns to see Pam dart off.
Kyser scratched away at a crude itch wondering what had gotten into Pam. Wesley stalls abruptly declaring, "Let her run off. Fitting if she runs into a big snake." Wesley chuckled.
"No! Let's go after her. I'm responsible for you all."
"Come on! I don't think we need to go after her paranoia."
"Can it Wesley!" the professor declared sternly, adding, "Just because you're this super FBI agent doesn't mean you would like to be left alone."
"Who asked you, Arab."
"What's with this guy?"
"Alright gentlemen," declared Kyser. "Let's follow her."
The crew set out to catch up with Pam.
The others examined all around the tree from which Brutus dangled, but to no avail. It seemed an impossible feat to climb it, but yet someone had to save him. It was only a matter of time before someone heard them, they thought, and so they waited, screaming and yelling, for this seemed to be their only option.
Indeed, Pam was on her way, and suddenly, she noticed Brutus hanging there.
"Oh my God," exclaimed Pam, walking towards them with dismay.
"Hey where are the others?" shouted Roy.
"Pam! Pam, snap out of it," Roy exclaimed urgently. However, she stood there staring at Brutus, still informed by some higher force.
"Can't you hear us? Where are the others?"
"There's no use for this girl. Damn!" exclaimed Klinton.
The crew they asked for just pierced the horizon and noticed all of the commotion.
"Hey! Help us."
"What the hell?"
"He's in some kind of trap."
The crew converged around Brutus. Everything seemed under control, except for a method to get him down. Because the entire crew was there, they had a sense of control, but they were in a state of shock. Pam stood there motionless as that very moment the sounds of the forest were muted.
Dire eyes were probably what made things silent, but the crew made crackling sounds from the plant brush as they approached closer, but that wasn't the only cracking sound. The branch above that held Brutus began to crack. With that fact came the first understandable words from Brutus, "Oh my God, I feel my leverage slipping. I think you better think of something fast."
The crackling sounded once again. This time it was a bit louder than all other sounds. It sounded like a lumberjack conquering a huge tree.
"Aughg aughg!!!" Pam screeched. She experienced some strange force, and she knew, that right before her eyes Brutus would fall to his death a split second before it happened. Landing head first, Brutus died instantly. The whole crew watched in amazement.
Pam gave out a final scream as Brutus made contact with the unforgiving earth. The crew rushed to his aid, Klinton being the first to announce his death.
"Whoa... wait a minute. This is now two that are dead," exclaimed Julian.
"Who else is dead," shouted Roy.
Kyser filled Agent Beavers in on the discovery of the late Joe.
The crew pondered how best to get Brutus's body back to camp. However, not before examining the scene. Wesley noticed the tree's vitality, that it seemed to be in its prime.
"I'm not sure how this branch broke. I don't think his weight caused it."
"Then what did?"
"I'm not sure."
"Well what are you sure about?"
"One thing is for sure! In the morning, we need to search the area for more traps so that no more of this tyranny occurs."
They all agreed, passing it off as an accident. Pam didn't say anything, but felt it was no accident. They all evacuated the scene and those particular eyes watched their departure. A patch of cumulonimbus clouds began to cover the night sky.
On their way back, some pondered the strangeness of both deaths.
"Hey Richard!" exclaimed Wesley. "I think it was kind of odd for you to figure you needed four FBI agents, but now it's making sense. Is there something you are not telling us about your little project? Because, if there is, I might have to kick your ass."
"Wait a minute, no one talks to me that way, and Kyser, get your employee in line before I have his job. If I have to pay for it."
"What the fuck, this guy's not threatening me."
Kyser settles the gentlemen down and added, "I do think all of this just doesn't add up. Now Rich, me and you go way back, so what's going on?"
"I don't know?"
"Oh yeah! Is that why you brought the professor?" exclaimed Wes.
"Hey, leave my name out of it."
"There was suspicion that there could be a tribe of some sort, but I've never seen anyone. Maybe an indigenous tribe is responsible for all of this."
"Hmmm, maybe you're responsible!"
"That is absurd. What the hell would I have to gain and how would I mysteriously... I just won't entertain that comment."
"Knock it off!" declared Kyser, scratching his head like it hurt. "Professor, what do you say?"
"Well, there are likely to be tribes living around here."
"Well... how likely is it?"
The professor gave a look of deep thought and answered calmly. "I should say highly likely. On my journey today I've seen signs of someone's passage."
"Oh, what sort of signs?"
"I've seen a few abandoned campfires as well as what appear to be some discarded tools, most of which were defective spearheads, or maybe even somehow broken off into some animal, which were eaten on the spot."
"OK, we just asked you a simple question and that was more than enough," replied Klinton.
Andrew had slipped over a bit to whisper to Wesley, "He looked quite suspicious when that Joe guy turned up."
"He did, didn't he? I thought I was the only one to notice."
Andrew had slipped away and Wesley got Richard's attention. "Richard, I think we all need to talk."
Everyone looked.
"Andrew tells me that you looked suspicious when that Joe guy turned up. I think you know something and your crew demands to be told."
An eerie silence was amongst them. All that could be heard were natural forest sounds.
"Oh, you have nothing to say, do you?" Wesley uttered.
Richard was fed up and his response showed it. "Look, I told you! You don't know who you think you are talking to. I'm going to show you first thing in the morning, because now you're trespassing on my property and I want you off the premises."
"Wait a minute sir! I don't think so... People have been turning up dead. I think that is where our expertise is needed. So, frankly! I don't think we are going anywhere?"
Wesley and Richard had drawn up on each other as if they were to begin the fight of the century. Richard responded with his fists clenched at his sides. "Oh, I think you will be leaving, because you have no jurisdiction here in South America. This is private property, and if I want, at the press of a button, I can call the correct authorities. I know that you're not the correct ones. I'll contact the Brazilian government and have you removed!"
Richard's face began to redden. His fists remained clenched while his eyes focused on Wesley's. Wesley could care less about Richard's threats, or even his intentions. He did however care about his money, and there was no way Richard was going to get out of paying him. What he thought was easy and boring income now became exciting and intense. This was up his alley, just as it was up Richard's.
The two would have had a standoff, but Kyser did what he did best, lead. He sliced between the two quarreling men and stated boldly, "Are there people living back here?" He said looking directly into Richard's eyes.
"Look! I have no Idea!"
"Well, damn it Richard. I know you're a thorough man, so why wouldn't you have already surveyed the land. I mean, you bring a civil engineer and now he's dead... and now you have his crew who seems to be worth diddly. Well maybe except for the two pilots. I mean what the..."
"Hey! Wait a minute now!" Klinton exclaimed. "I'm a surveyor as well, and I worked hand in hand with Brutus. I ain't got a degree, but shit... Shit! I'm damn near an engineer. So whatever the job, it still can be done. Shit, fuck a degree. Just because I ain't got the money to get a degree don't mean I can't learn the shit. Like I said, whatever the job, it still can be done."
"Yeah... Well, Mr. Klinton, or whatever your last name is, you're not the only one who can do a few things around here. I'm a navigator, and I can sail you around the world."
The professor scratched his chin and said to Kyser, "I think you offended a few people in your negotiation speech. Because I surely am. If there are people living back here, I think that you would all need me to negotiate."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend anyone," Kyser said mildly, a look of shame upon his face. "It's just that these two are getting out of hand."
"You all just stop it, stop it!" Pam cried out. She felt things now deep as a soul touching her. Whatever the case may be, she wanted things quiet.
Laughter poured from a few of the men as Wesley whispered loudly, "My, my are we getting a little touchy?"
Pam ran off. The noise became too much to bear. "Pam! Pam! Officer Slaughter!" Kyser called out to her and commanded the gentlemen to follow her.
Pam ran directly for her tent to lie down and go to sleep. She wanted to avoid what she was feeling and hearing. However, most of the crew went their separate ways caring less about Pam's masquerade. Andrew headed directly to check on his wife. Klinton decided to lie down just like Pam, but the rest of the crew seemed to have a little more energy to dissipate.
"Oh... baby! Are you alright?" Andrew kissed his wife on the forehead. "No one came to bother you?"
She lay there, hesitant, prompting him to ask again. "What happened?"
"Oh, nothing... It's just that Adam tried to force his hands around me. I gave him that kick, and boo-yah. He was reminded of his place."
"Oh hell no! What the fuck... you little pervert!" Andrew's rage soared as he reached to choke Adam. "You sick fuck, how could you put your fucking slimy hands on my... wife?"
Andrew cried loudly as he shook Adam as if he was trying to shake something loose. Adam struggled to maintain his balance, but his sickness weakened him severely. Andrew roughed him up a little, with no regard to an illness. To him the illness was disrespecting his wife.
Huge steps came from behind Andrew, followed by a hard kick in the ass, and now a tight hold had commandeered Andrew's assault. "Leave him alone, can't you see he's sick," replied Wesley.
"I don't care! He better not put his hands on my wife again!"
"Look wise guy. How'd you like it if I roughed you up?" That's exactly what Wesley intended. However, Roy Beavers had heard the ruckus and quickly broke the rampage up.
"Hey, hey, you guys cut it out." He split the men with his body and pushed them in opposite directions.
"Come on Roy, he's picking on poor Adam. If he weren't sick, I'm sure this bullying wouldn't happen."
"I know Wes, but the guy said he's protecting his wife."
"Hmmm... He better protect himself, because I'm about to...!"
"Hey, hey! Stop it!" Kyser exclaimed from a distance.
Finally they stopped bickering, thanks to Roy and Kyser's intervention. Andrew's face showed that he was still upset, and you could hear it in his voice. "Come on dear!" He grabbed his wife and they headed for their tent. "Are you alright, baby?" These words were spoken softly and sincerely.
"Yes, baby. I'm fine. I could have handled myself." Her voice resembled that of kid engaged in show and tell.
The rest of the crew could hear Andrew rumble big bad words regarding his standoff with Wesley. "That motherfucker came on me from behind. I should have popped him in the mouth as soon as that Roy guy broke us up. I can see now, I might have to pop him one."
"Baby, just calm down. Everything is OK." She tried to calm him because he forgot now why he was so angry in the first place. It was because Adam tried to give his filthy germs to his loved one. He saw the condition he was in before they discovered Joe, and it was unbearable to be around. Except of course Pam's sensitivity rendered her immune to the sneezing, coughing, and wiping of mucous. She had a kind heart indeed, and they say that is where the soul rests.
It seemed that Joe's innocently deceased soul had reached out to her. She wouldn't find out now because she was asleep.
In her dreams, Pam pictured a baby, but the infant somehow was able to walk freely about the forest. It seemed innocent enough as the baby weaved through thick trees and vines. There was nothing seemingly threatening to the baby, and maybe for that reason Pam was drawn to the infant. She tried to catch up with the little one, but she gained no ground. Her stumbling over huge tree stumps, thick vines, and other various green life caused her attempts to gain terrain to come up lame. Her pace seemed to be afloat, and she had no control over her own movements. It caused her deep sorrow, but not sadness. For sorrow is an emotion of blessings from events you have no control over and that cause things to be in disarray, but sadness is something you can control. Therefore, sadness is an illness. The values you set for yourself cause one to be sad. This was sorrow because Pam had no control over the current situation, and she did feel sorrow. How these emotions are translated from sleep state to real time remains to be seen.
Roy, Wesley, and Kyser gathered in real time and had a few adult beverages while plotting against Richard. It wasn't as though they thought he was a criminal, but they knew these two accidents weren't an accident and Richard seemed to know something. The fact needed investigating, but the two men were exhausted. Kyser had plans to pack it up in the morning and head back to the states.
"Hey, I advise you guys to pack up, because we're out of here in the morning. So you best get some Z's, because I mean... first thing in morning."
They all took heed. It was quiet once everyone was asleep.
The Kemps however remained eyes open engaging in what newlyweds usually parlay in. They got noisy and Susie wanted no one out here to know her exotic side. The moans and groans she loved to carry out were truly a sensational thing to listen to. They decided to run off so no one could hear them. They could really let it all out, like the animals they were, and they were in the proper place for their instincts. However, most mammals disengage in sexual activity once conception is achieved, but the Kemps knew nothing of nature and its fine tuning with life.
Nevertheless, she wanted to experience an occasion in the jungle. It seemed it could be a fantasy from childhood, all of those adolescent years loving Tarzan and always thinking he was a hunk, even wondering about wandering off with him deep into the jungle where he would then rape her—but she enjoyed it. All of those years her mother cooped her up, she thought that was the way it was done. The animals on television showed her no differently. She had even believed her mother's scolding as a child, about boys and various other evil perceptions of sex, and so Susie started out as a Tomboy.
Wearing her caps backward and beating up boys her age was just half the battle of her rocky childhood. But nearly growing up with a sexual identity crisis snapped at the loss of her virginity. Ironically, this event spawned a little hatred and disobedience towards her mother. It all happened at the age of seventeen. That particular night her parents had to leave in an emergency. Susie sat there watching television and she nearly fell completely asleep. However, a loud ring from the phone startled her wide awake. She thought it was her parents, but it was her drunken girlfriends. They laughed and giggled trying to entice an invitation out of Susie. She declined, because she had no idea when her parents would return home.
Just moments after hanging up the phone, it rang again. It was her mom saying it would be tomorrow before they could get home. Susie sat back in the couch and gazed at the television, not really paying much attention. She thought about how much fun her friends seemed to be having and how bored she was. Her not expecting that call from her mom even crossed her mind gracefully. In fact, she had answered the phone with a commanding "no", which puzzled her mom. Susie thought she was her friends trying once again to convince her. But now Susie didn't need convincing, and she called her friends back and invited them all over.
To this day her mother has no idea they had boys over getting drunk, and that all lost their virginity that night. Well some of her friends had experience and they plotted on Susie. The alcoholic beverages clouded her decision because it felt dangerously good to her, especially for it being her first time. Her being drunk caused her to feel no present pain. She lay there allowing a young man to stab all of his might in her. She realized how much that would have hurt if she weren't drunk the next morning. She could barely walk, and when her parents arrived home she remained in bed and claimed to be sick.
After snapping out of her reverie, she and Andrew chose a huge tree with bulging roots to sit upon. He cornered her upon this huge tree and began kissing her rapidly. She moaned freely while returning kisses of equal or greater value. Her kisses were accompanied by caresses that were always soft and smooth. These acts of foreplay continued until they slid down the tree. Susie's hardly appropriate blouse obtained a rip from the bark that would cut you like fish scales, but it was unnoticed because they nearly ripped their clothes off. They perfected this art of mild aggression to the point in which the clothes would still be wearable.
Andrew wasted no time in engaging into sexual intercourse with his wife. The circumstances seemed to be a rush, and that's what he did, because that's what filled him. Now that both of their eyes were either closed or blinkered they could no longer do any watching. However, there were always eyes watching them, from the moment they left their tents. This time they were in one spot the eyes could now focus on their targets.
The chants and praises had begun the moment the King descended the horizon. It really never stopped, but faded further into the background in daylight. It really did go on now as the eyes watched closely. The mysticism had intensified proportional to those very same chants and praise, and also with the deepening of night. The dances the indigenous ones performed around specific trees helped as well, but that was deeper into the jungle, deeper than had ever been reached by civilization. The noise cascaded throughout and a silent roar came upon the entire rainforest.
This didn't stop the eyes from watching. It only intensified as they watched the Kemps engage in indecent exposure. Andrew was on top of Susie with her hands stretched out. She gripped the tree roots to absorb the thrusts. He had to work hard to please a woman with her sexual past. Her hands were beautifully layered in jewelry he had brought her, and her fingers were long and slender and sported a French manicure. Absorbing all of Andrew's love and even throwing a little back, she was in bliss as she clung to the branches.
Andrew had his leverage as well on those very same bulging roots. He placed both feet upon them and used them for pushing power, because those roots were strong, sturdy, and surely wouldn't give under measly human power and stretched in an uncontrollable pattern. Susie could even prop her head up on one of the many branches, the very same one her hands were stretched out upon. In fact, the tree's roots seemed pretty useful as it allowed Andrew thrust with much more love. He was no minute man; but indeed he was, because fifteen minutes into pure thrusting, they both were about to reach a rewarding climax.
Susie was into this one because she'd already had two. The third would probably be the knock out blow she would welcome. In light of all this, she had no realization that she had no apparent control of her arms, which were no longer gripped atop the roots but now lay beneath them. The climax was coming and it made things for the moment all seem like a dream.
However, the roots that lay on top of her beautiful hands started bearing down. She began to struggle a little, noticing that the grip got tighter and tighter. Andrew had his tongue down her throat so her distress calls were plugged with flesh. There were three options for her: to push him off, but her hands were sealed; the verbal command was obviously a no-go; and her last and final option was tough because Andrew had her legs pinned tightly with his arms while stroking fast and hard.
The ground rumbled and Andrew started slowing his kisses down. Finally stopping, he could vaguely hear his wife squealing but his tongue had drained her ability to scream. He sensed she was in distress, but by the time it was clear, Susie was being pulled beneath the earth. The roots were responsible as they began to clamp down on Andrew's heels, immobilizing him. In fact, he screamed loudly as the roots broke both of his heels with such awesome power. Susie was now completely consumed and the roots gripped Andrew tightly and began to suck him beneath the earth. Their fate was suffocation from being squeezed by the limbs and buried alive.
In Pam's dream she had heard Andrew scream, because at that moment she stood straight up in her sleep, and that moment she realized that she had lost the baby. The spiritualistic mysticism had sustained her in this deep sleep. Eventually, Pam fell back down and went into a deeper sleep.
That instant the night, and specifically the area around camp, seemed gloomy. A dissident evil filled the air. Nature is often referred to as cruel and evil, but it's just the laws that were laid down. Whether it be a rodent being devoured by a wild beast or rain flooding the entire area, Nature's wrath was always thought to be spiritual in essence. If a stranger tried to run you away from your home, would you kill? Would you be killed? Most people would probably kill and this was the predicament the jungle inhabitants had to face. They were less civilized so this rule was probably second nature.
Pam had been suddenly awakened, but only briefly. It seemed this awakening corresponded to the Kemps' vital signs. However, after their signs had terminated, that eerie roar was vibrant once again. It was not from some wild rainforest animal, but from fierce thunder that followed behind bright electrical bolts. Down poured rain and the crew scattered to their tents for cover. The droplets were heavy and the sounds from them hitting the ground muted everything, except for the activities of the cumulonimbus.
They say life is energy, and what was in those clouds was as well. All who have died here may have had their spiritual energy merged, and because of that are forced to haunt this very jungle indefinitely. It also may intensify them. It may cause them to call out in rage. The rain that poured so heavily upon their tents made rhythms for their dreams, like hundreds of mini-drums being pounded on by little drummer boys using the tents as their drums and the rain as their sticks. It was surely horrific music to their hearts.
The good hearted were filled with sorrow. The cold hearted were filled with terror. The aurora that filled the minds of the intruders were like dream invaders. It caused them to be pinned down with an inability to move and deflated any desire to awaken. The intensity of their emotions was no help in the matter. The rain seemed to represent something holding them down in this spot. It was like the clouds spit nails, and the impact pinned them down like a carpenter sealing plywood with an air-gun.
However, the rain of nails pinned the crew to their dreams of sentient nature. It seemed they were trapped inside a bottle and they yelled at the top of their lungs, but no one heard them. They were too small to be seen, but they did scream, but only in the confines of their dreams.
Richard tossed and turned but could not wake up, no matter how hard he tried. Voices echoed inside his sleeping brain. It was Mr. Neuheisil pressuring him. "What's going on, Richard? Why haven't we got that report yet? I know you want to seize this opportunity, so I wonder if there isn't something that you're not telling us."
Richard faced Mr. Neuhesil and got a cool chill, because the rest of the investors surrounded him. They all agreed, especially the keen Winterlin. They all supported Mr. Neuhesil's scolding of him too. To Richard they looked like humans possessed by demons and they were just a nail clipping from eating him. Richard was terrified. So he ran off, but instead of running, he had levitation abilities. He floated off into the thick and dark forest scared out his wits.
For some reason, a burning desire fueled Richard. This desire was geared toward getting the project done, because the investors struck horror within him. There was no awakening, so he had better fly off and get this project done like the demon investors suggested. He flew himself through the woods but he couldn't see a thing. Sweat poured down his face, giving testimony to his fright. He was also worried because he floated about the jungle alone.
There were no clues surfacing as to how to please them. He worried more and more as he flew deeper and deeper. It got gloomy as he flew further in. It seemed like hope was overshadowed by darkness and all that could be seen were dark shades of massive trees. They too seemed to be possessed and might even devour him if he got too close.
In his dream, Richard opened his eyes wider in an attempt to see, but he didn't realize his fear caused him not wanting to see. The only part of his body that worked above normal was his emotions. All emotions were tied to the mystic force, just as the Egyptians were tied to worshiping their sun. The only difference here was that Richard had no choice. Those same eyes that watched in real time watched in dream time, but this time Richard seemed to notice more of them.
He went along with his deep emotional fear that attracted him to this long dark path. He got more nervous when he still could find no clues or anyone to help him. He knew the investors were demons, so he made himself cautious. For some strange reason, that feeling of being eaten wouldn't leave. Paranoia flamed up out of control like flares that helped to boil his blood.
As he began to slow down, he felt panic from the uncertainty of his dreams. Why was he slowing down? What lay before him? The reason he was slowing down was the first of his concerns, but he really didn't figure out why he was moving. What he didn't have time to understand was that his fear and anxiety were directly related to his movements. As he came to a complete stop, his feelings climaxed upon connecting eye to eye with a painted face.
His might have been the most wide open closed eyes that there have ever been. His face absorbed shock, but in a calm and restrained manner. He could not move. A stiff fearful stare was all that was allowed. Both sets of eyes did just that, but frustration wore down on Richard, because he wanted to run and could not. It was dark, but to Richard, the eyes captured all. This fact and that painted face grew his fears based solely on the ignorance of his misfortunes. Richard had already pointed his fingers. He grew a hate for those unknown eyes and all that they represented.
The dreams intensified and Julian Akbar stood in the middle of the dark forest and wept. It was unclear if it was because he was lost in the forest or simply just a part of his dream. His excitement soared as he noticed love at first sight sifting through the forest. A nude indigenous woman ran playfully about. The professor's urge to follow became unbearable. The pursuit was initiated and sorrow glowed within him. He could not catch up, and the darkness made his prey fade away in the distance.
His fear now began to rise when he realized he was not going to catch her. He found himself deep in the masses of trees and vines, but he never stopped the pursuit. The sorrow-fear balance fluctuated severely. For the moment, sorrow remained down on the see-saw as he tried so hard to catch that woman. There was no woman back home, so why not? Love haunted Julian because he never experienced it. The sad part was that this probably included his family and students. Loneliness contributed to his sorrows, but when the painted face man made an appearance it contributed to his fear.
There he was, genitals wrapped in simple cloth and wearing nothing else to cover his body, except for the many different colors that patterned his face like some ritualistic tattoo. It did indeed conceal the identity of this man, but Julian had no problem seeing the spear he tightly gripped. All this happened instantly, because they were already in pursuit. Julian ran as fast as he could through the thick jungle, but he ran into a dead end. His life flashing before him sent a shockwave throughout his body as he looked up at what was blocking his way.
It was a zombie version of Wesley, who had a thick snake wrapped around him like a skirt. There was also a snake around his neck. Wesley seemed abnormally large and the look of an animal seeking its prey. Julian swiftly cut left while continuing his getaway, but the man with the spear had just about gained on him.
Mr. Akbar approached an open space in this dream world jungle. He gained a little relief when he noticed his comrades spread out. They stood there motionlessly staring at Akbar. Julian called out in distress, and a hand reached out to Akbar, but as the helper reached to help him, the spear was launched in his direction. He fell down abruptly as the spear pierced the throat of the helper. The body tumbled on top of Julian making it hard for him to get up. When he did get up, it was too late. He had been captured and carried off deep into the forest, possibly never to be seen again.
The professor's captor was strong and well built. It was apparently simple for him to carry the professor quickly. Slouched over the indigenous one's back, the professor seemed helpless to escape. However, he was astonished at the manner in which his kidnapper traveled through the forest. It became apparent the native knew exactly where he was and where he was going.
A huge ceremony was going on in the middle of the forest before a tremendous bonfire. There were dancers that performed a ritual. A huge barrier of massive trees separated an area from the rest of the forest. The professor's heart pounded as he sensed something. This heart pounding sensation became noticeable to Julian causing him to worry. He knew that South American cultures performed ceremonies in which the heart is extracted using a priest's bare hands. There were all kinds of myths revolving around the heart. It was thought that is where that little speck of light in every living being shines so brightly, the burning point that empowers the soul.
This particular culture believed a sacrifice of the heart at noon would be a sacrifice to the sun god. This would send the sacrificed's soul straight to the heavens, to perhaps become a star to guide generations to come. The fact that it was nighttime puzzled the professor. He recalled learning that, if performed at the crescent of a full moon midnight, then a soul could be banned to the underworld. This truly frightened him. Although his colleagues thought the subject matter to be myth, Julian had taken to heart some of those myths. The fact that this could be performed on him didn't sit well.
However, the ceremony already seemed to be in progress. All of a sudden he was slung to the ground next to some tribal woman. It appeared to be the one he was chasing. However, before he could even rejoice his victory in capturing his loved one, he sensed something about to happen. There were guards all around him. They began to push him and the woman forward as the drums increased their rhythm.
The professor's eyes were grim when he looked behind him and noticed those guards were Jerry and Briscoe. Fear was increased by the fact that a spear was lodged through Briscoe's throat and a huge chunk seemed to have been bitten off of Jerry's face. The professor screamed to be awakened, but could not awaken no matter how hard he tried.
The golden king's ray pierced the horizon, banning all darkness and all who dwelled spiritually. The spirits were the first to dissipate in the glorious sunlight. The small nocturnal rodents and insects followed. However, there were some who did not fear the sunlight, but enjoyed it dearly. The crew members were the main ones because it was the only thing to help them break their sleep.
Another happy candidate was Edward Pullins. It wasn't because he experienced the stress and turmoil of his suspect's crew, but he seemed actually anxious to be on his way to South America. He had never been outside the country, and to be going on an unauthorized bounty hunt awed him. Edward Pullins gave praise to Nick's valiant stand in rejecting his request to guide him. He had no clue as to why Nick was so reluctant to return. Edward had no real interest on why, so he boarded the prepared flight with no hesitation.
Although rejection still entangled his emotions, he was surely glad he was on his way. Thoughts of heroic proportions coupled with courage and bravery slithered through all of his veins. Just like running water, but in his case, the movement of emotionally contaminated blood from the heart to the thinking muscle, supplied his thoughts with the fuel he needed to capture Richard.
Edward was also a little uneasy. He wasn't sure why he was so excited. A tingling feeling ran through his spine and caused him concern, because it was the same way he felt this morning when he abruptly awoke. He considered it with humor because he never really remembered his dreams, but this one was vaguely with him still. Simple flashes and glimpses were all he had at his disposal. He tried to block them out by gazing out of the window and putting much emphasis on small items getting smaller.
He didn't remember fully, but enough to experience the chills throughout his nervous system. It also seemed to be associated with his desire to get to the town of Macapa. The town was mysterious to him because he knew nothing of it, but this town he'd never heard of before had all the importance in the world. His eagerness to reach his prize, Richard's capture, boiled within him. He understood the what and who he was after, but he failed to comprehend the why.
Nevertheless, there was a deep passion now for Richard's capture, no matter the cost. That very determination could be the reason for Edward's success or failure. This mental frenzy made time seem to go fast because the next thing he knew it was about thirty minutes before arriving in Macapa. These last thirty would take a toll because his mental stability began to falter. He thought about those dreams, in flashes and pulses, causing him to nod his head against the window. It appeared migraines took over but he was actually thinking about Gunther. What would he say if he knew where he was headed? All these emotions fueled his desire, and before long he would see what he was up against.
Kyser Finley was almost the first to be roused by the piercing sun, but in this case, the severe humidity that followed a night full of rain was king of a day that was destined to be scorching. The only relief anyone had was from the thick umbrella the jungle formed with its trees and vines. It wasn't hard for Kyser to be one of the first to awake—his severe itch made sure of that. However, the intense dreams that the pouring rain seemed to cause were the only reason his irritation didn't keep him from sleeping.
One of the few signs of daybreak was the sun clearing the pour of hydrogen double teaming oxygen. The sun could only be seen partially in patches of the jungle, and this was at high noon. The sun was not the only thing to rise, for the heat did the same.
"Ahhg," screamed Adam. He continued in a painful way. Pam seemed to be only one to hear him, or at least the first to show a little concern. Kyser actually was the first, but he ignored the man's screaming for a moment. Then he did peek inside Adam's tent.
"Oh my, are you alright Adam? You look like shit."
Adam didn't respond in a communicable way, but by undecipherable moans and groans.
"Hold on man, I'll go get Pam." Kyser released his hands from the crease of the tent bearing a look of disgust.
"Oh, oh, oh," Adam tossed and turned and never did get any sleep. The sickness had taken over and was the main reason he now spoke in groans.
"Pam!" Kyser yelled. "Pam, could you please see about Adam? He looks like... I don't know, I guess shit."
Pam replied softly, "You don't look well yourself. Look at this," she said as she grabbed his arm and exhibited some severe bruises. They were extremely red and appeared to want to blister. "Look at these bruises. How did this happen?"
Kyser snatched his hand away and replied in a defensive way, "I don't know. Maybe it's poison ivy."
Pam looked at him with ridicule and advised, "Oh no, I don't think this is poison ivy. I really don't know what it is."
"Well, that's because you're not a doctor. You're an FBI agent."
"You know... it really doesn't take a doctor to know this isn't poison ivy. It appears to be something more severe." Pam pulled his arms closer and noticed multiple abrasions. "Come here, Ky!" She lifted his shirt to examine his body and noticed severe scratch wounds he had applied to himself throughout the course of the night.
"Oh dear," Pam cried with dire empathy.
"I'm fine!" Kyser exclaimed forcefully. "While we're sitting here lollygagging about a few scratches and bruises, Adam seems to be about to burn up."
"What? Did you take his temperature?"
"Do you see a fucking thermometer or do I look like a medic to you. I figured... well because he's sweating real bad, and he looks like he really wants to die. So can you help him? Shit, you're the woman, and you're more fit for that nursery type stuff."
Pam looked at Kyser in despair, gathered her med kit and rushed over to help poor Adam.
Kyser followed her briefly, but quickly veered to gather the others. He slipped his hands through the crack of Roy's tent and exclaimed, "Hey Roy, get up!"
"I'm already up! I couldn't help but be up because of your loud mouth. Are you still itching? I noticed that last night. Did something bite you?"
"You sound like Pam."
"Oh yeah, well then maybe she was right."
"About what? That I need to be treated? Well, I know that, but I see no one here is a doctor, are they!"
"That's funny you would mention that. I had a funny dream last night. I couldn't awake from it. It seemed some doctor was trying to kill a man. The man...I think was trying to get here. Yeah, here right where we are. Hmm...I think he was trying to tell us something."
Kyser chuckled. "What was he trying to tell us? Was he trying to warn us that someone was trying to kill us too? Ha! If there is any vision to your dream then it still wouldn't come true, because we will be long gone. We are getting the heck out of here. Adam looks like he might be the next one to die, and because we partially witnessed this tragedy it's only our duty to get the body home. Besides, now the one we need to do the survey is dead, who's going to do the job? No reason for us to be here."
"Yeah, I guess you're right, and I don't believe your friend is telling us all there is to know."
"Oh dear, look at you! You need to be in a hospital somewhere," said Pam. "Come here!" She went to take Adam in her arms to comfort him, but at the same time fondled through her med kit. These actions made one wonder why she was not a nurse.
"I'm cold Pam," uttered Adam in a soft and squeaky voice seemingly on a verge of collapse. Sweat poured down his face.
"Listen Adam! You have to tell me what you may have come into contact with."
Adam rolled over in Pam's arms, staring in her eyes with a look of defeat. "I..I..I'm not sure."
"Did something bite you? Maybe it was poisonous. Did you touch some kind of plant? I need to know because Kyser seems to have been affected too, but you guys seem to be affected differently."
Pam tried hard to get information out of Adam. The first gesture Adam released was a horrendous sneeze that resulted in a swift head maneuver by Pam to deter her face from being the bull's eye. It also manifested sarcastic remarks from her crew members.
"I hope that isn't contagious," Kyser said.
Pam looked in despair but didn't let that stop her from administering warmth and comfort for Adam.
"You take good care of him!" declared Wesley. "Poor Adam. We need to get him home."
"I think you're right, Roy!"
"So, what is the plan?" Wesley demanded an answer. He had just recently joined the crew and felt behind on the agenda.
"I think we need to inform Richard of our departure—no need for us here. We also need a little medical attention." Kyser stared at Pam specifically and continued, "I think we are all men, and a little flu and itching won't hurt. We'll be home by tomorrow."
The three FBI agents left for Richard's tent. They all rushed to his tent like it was a stake out, and they were US Marshals on a bounty hunt.
"Hey! Rich! Rich!" Mr. Finley chanted sharply.
Something enormous had gotten into Richard because he was just waking out of a nightmare. He greeted the men before they could even reach his tent bearing the look and actions of a telepathy informed individual.
"Yes, gentlemen?"
"Rich! We need to talk." Kyser spoke softly and firmly in due respect for his friend. He wanted to make one thing clear. "We're packing it up."
"What! What do you mean?"
"I mean exactly what I said..."
"Yeah! I think he understands perfectly."
"Wesley...I'll handle this! You know Richard, you act surprised."
"It's just that I know this situation is tough, but I haven't gotten much done."
"Much done? What the fuck? Is this guy crazy?" said Wesley.
Kyser calmed Wesley down by placing his hands upon him to restrain him. Richard stood tall, not scared a bit. His project was of utmost importance, so he continued his rebuttal.
"Look, I don't need much longer, perhaps one more day. This night wasn't so bad."
"I think you need to speak for yourself. I had a terrible nightmare last night and wouldn't care to be here another night." Roy had finally gotten a word in on the discussion. He was good spirited because he felt he was heard.
"I think the decision is unanimous—we're getting out of here," said Wesley.
Kyser had eye contact with Richard, but slowly drifted his eyes away. "Hey, tell Pam to come here," Kyser commanded and someone did just that.
Klinton Westfield had no problem sleeping late, but today couldn't match his record. I guess the night sleep wasn't pleasant, and the commotion outside worked his eardrum. He climbed out of tent with anger on his face, "Shit!" It wasn't the ideal place to wake up to. The muggy air disgusted him. The slick surface caused by the rain made walking a slippery ordeal. The heat and humidity seemed to be direct forces acting upon his grief.
He trotted on to get his friends, the ones he could relate to Andrew and Susie. Trying so hard to walk through the muddy terrain, Klinton looked even more disgruntled when he noticed their tent were empty. He then disregarded the problems the mud caused and rushed to the others.
Klinton swept his way through Briscoe's tent, observing him lying there motionless. However, after looking for a moment, Briscoe raised his head just to look at Klinton for a moment. He then collapsed backwards onto his sleeping mat. Klinton made sure Jerry was awake, which wasn't easy, but no one had seen Andrew.
"No one has seen Andrew and Susie!"
"Who!?"
"The pilots, you idiot. They're nowhere to be found."
Just about everyone heard and gathered around Klinton.
"You mean no one has seen them?"
"Hey, hey, calm down. They were probably up early to check on the helicopters, but how about you and Pam go and check on the helicopters, anyway. You probably will find them on the way there."
Richard was not fond of Kyser's last comments and advised, "Look, you insist on leaving, but I had no idea these people would end up dying. Obviously what happened were just accidents, and that's no reason to stop working. I mean work continues just like life. I think we need to ship the bodies off so they can get a proper burial and then simply finish our jobs."
"Wait a minute, what about your friend Brutus? He just perished recently, and how is still a mystery. I think we are dealing with morals issue here. I mean, at what point are we disrespecting the dead?"
"Well, there will be no burial for the Kemps because I'm going to find them!" Klinton said and ran off.
"Wait a minute! We are a team. Don't go running off and getting lost."
"Well, I don't see us going far without the pilots."
That tuned got the crew's attention. "OK, first why don't you and Pam go and check the helicopters while we search around here."
"Wait a minute! I don't work for you or any one of you."
"Well, what's your name again?" said Wesley sarcastically. He then pointed at the lifeless Brutus while vocally expressing himself. "You see, there's your boss. It seems he's not going to do you much good."
There was no time for bickering, so Kyser interrupted. "Look! Gentlemen. We all need team work, and if you want to get out of here ASAP, then I suggest we work together. We also need to be wary of those traps that got Brutus in this predicament."
"You think one of the pilots is caught in one of those terrible traps?" uttered Pam.
Klinton showed her support. "Yeah, I think I need to find my friends."
"If we don't see about the helicopter, we're going nowhere any way, so that is the priority."
Richard obviously did not like what he was hearing, and it wasn't long before he felt it unbearable to go unheard any longer. "Everyone, we seemed to get over our panic. You act as if something is out to get us. I mean, these were freak accidents. We all know things like this don't happen often, so it is highly unlikely that anything like this will happen to those of us who remain. What about the brave citizens who decide they will do whatever it takes to feed their families..."
"Shit, feed my family. What the fuck this guy's talking about?"
"The point I'm trying to make is that many people lost their lives working in coal mines or on huge dams so our country could have sufficient energy, or what about the miners who mine your precious rocks and metals so that you can persuade lust to be the commander of your sins. We are those brave citizens. We have a job to do, and you are on my payroll—a contract has been signed."
Kyser cut his eyes at Richard. "Wait a minute, Richard. What about Brutus? He's dead. I...I I thought my friend had more compassion than that."
Richard looked at himself and visibly straightened himself up. "You're right! Look, I have access to a funeral home on the third island to the east. Jerry and Briscoe can escort the bodies, for an extra incentive of course. That way Brutus's body will be preserved until we finish."
"Richard, but wasn't he the engineer, and the only one qualified for the job."
"Yes, but Klinton Westfield is an officer of his company, and I'm sure he can finish the remaining tasks. It's just a simple report to my investors that this is an ideal spot for my project. Brutus spoke highly of Klinton."
Klinton was baffled. "He did!?"
"Yes Klinton, he advised me that you were the head honcho, next to him. Also, that his teachings were soaking in and you were now equivalent to a Masters in civil engineering. Your scholastics don't mean a thing since the report will be filed under the company's name."
Klinton could not conceal a grin. "Well, I guess you're right. I am skilled at what I do, but never will I work for your sleaze bucket type."
Kyser broke the spell with soft words. "Pam! You and Klinton, see about those helicopters. I'm pretty sure your friends just went to check on our ride home."
"Ahhg... Ahhg," echoed from the only unchecked tent.
The crew approached the cries with caution and a bit of worry. Julian Akbar emerged from his tent only to face incomprehensible stares and glares.
"What! What are you looking at? I had a nightmare and couldn't seem to awaken from it."
"Well, everyone has had a shaky night, but it will be the last one."
"Oh really. I thought we were here another day or so."
"There's been a change of plans."
The professor wondered what the problem was. "Where's Richard!" He was truly ignorant at the moment. "Can some one catch me up to speed."
"Well we sent Pam and Klinton to meet the Kemps."
"Meet the Kemps? Where?"
"I think they may have gone to check on the helicopters."
"You think?"
"Well, we actually don't know where they are at the moment, but we're guessing where else they could be. It's obvious they got up slightly earlier and did what any good pilot would do."
"And what's that Kyser?"
"Take care of their pride."
"Pride, Kyser?"
"You know Kyser speaks sometimes in backward hieroglyphs."
"Yes, pride in the vessel in which they pilot."
The heat of the day rose significantly along with bird songs and animal language. The humidity played the major role because the other heat source was mostly blocked by the massive trees that lay along the path Pam and Klinton took. The trees towered massively above their heads and gave true meaning to the concept of a jungle.
Pam and Klinton traveled this path briskly, and lucky for them there was daylight. The two hadn't said much for the first twenty or so meters, but Klinton followed behind with a keen eye. He wondered why she was so interested in the different plant life.
"So, Agent Slaughter..."
"Oh, call me Pam. I think that at a time like this, Pam is more suitable."
"Well Pam, what brings you into crime fighting."
"I guess God's grace."
"Well, where did you get your degree? Don't you have to have a degree to be an FBI agent?"
"I was military."
"You didn't go to college?" said Klinton, surprised.
"I could have. I even turned down several scholarships that were offered to me, but..."
"But what!? I wish I had that chance to go to college. What, were you smart or something?"
"Of course, but that's not why they offered me scholarships. I was a sports person."
"What in Heaven's name makes you want to fight for Uncle Sam."
"Well, I always dreamed of being in the army. You might laugh, but I think that, because I played sports at such an early age, and I remember that commercial, 'Be all you can be, in the army.'" Pam had sung it just as she remembered it. "I think my competitive nature in sports was sometimes fueled by that theme song. It really affected my desires in dreaming to be a high ranking official with the armed forces. High ranking women is what they lacked, if anything was inadequate about our military."
"Well! That just goes back to the question I asked you before. How did you become an FBI agent?"
"Oh, well I found out the armed forces had me living a dream."
"What, you didn't move up at all?"
"Sure, I moved up. But most promotions were simple pay increases and had no true value. It led me to believe a woman would only be considered for advancement to just so high a rank and then be stuck. Of course they give you the impression you have a chance, but you really don't. I just basically gained as high a rank as I could get, or really as far as my patience would allow. I don't know, I guess I decided to apply and here I am."
"Oh, here you are! Ha! This is your idea of a job?"
"Hold up just one minute. It appears to me that your job has you right here with me." Pam was surprisingly feisty in her comments and gestures, seemingly quite the contrary of one of Pam's compassion.
Klinton picked up on her novel actions. "My, you sure are..."
"That's enough about me—what about you? And why are you here?" Pam's tone varied from this innocuous question. She tried to walk fast through the path, but her interest in various plants hindered rapid passage.
Pam suddenly stopped to bend over with the sexiest of appeal. Klinton watched the splendor as she examined a piece of plant life.
"This, my dear, isn't a time for picking roses. In case you're not informed, I want to go home. I can show plenty of places back home where you can go gardening."
"Will you be quiet? I'm trying to see something."
"Do you mind me asking what?"
"The guys back there are sick, and I'm wondering if they might have come in contact with something unpleasant."
Klinton leaned his body for a closer look and advised, "Yeah, I think that would account for unpleasant. Look! It has those prickly things all along its stem. They look like little green needles waiting to rupture one's flesh."
"I'm not sure if Adam or Kyser has come in contact with this. I don't even know if this plant would cause those symptoms."
"I suppose you don't care to test it."
Pam looked at Klinton ridiculously. "Here, give me that." She pointed at what Klinton was holding in his hand.
"What are you going to do? Take a sample, or something. You better be careful with that." He reluctantly handed over the requested item.
She proceeded to take the plant, trying her hardest not to get pricked. "Hey! Be careful, what the hell you gonna do make a vaccination or something... Doc!"
Pam looked at him and thought, how the hell am I gonna do that? She responded, "No, I'm not a doctor, and I doubt if any doctor could synthesize a vaccine from a plant on the spot. We barely have adequate equipment to take temperatures or make bandages."
The plant was secured and they continued on their journey. As usual Pam darted out in front, fearless of the daytime forest setting. Klinton had no objections to this. He enjoyed the view better trailing Agent Slaughter, and what a beautiful view she gave.
"Pam," said Klinton with ulterior motives. "You're a sexy woman."
Pam stopped in her tracks and exclaimed, "What!?"
"Oh, oh, I'm just kidding. I didn't mean to say you were sexy. I mean, I mean, I, you're a sexy woman, I just didn't mean to tell you that... at this moment."
Klinton stopped and looked at Pam. He pondered if revising those comments was even necessary. It didn't matter much, because Pam looked at him briefly and carried on.
"Wait a minute Pam, slow down," he said, sprinting to catch up as his eagerness grew for his next line of questioning. "Are you married, Pam?"
"Oh now you're hitting on me."
"No! No, that's not true. I'm not hitting on you or anyone else. I don't even carry myself in that manner, just small talk. You must want someone to hit on you."
"No!"
A grin descended upon Klinton's face as the two developed meaningful small talk. Klinton was still astonished by Pam's figure and purposely allowed her to walk faster.
"You sure aren't having a problem with this mud," Klinton cried as frustration built because the mud attacking of his shoes.
"I was just bred to endure severe conditions, also not to whine about uncomfortable situations." Pam spoke with confidence while not breaking stride.
"Oh I guess that's a part of the job."
"Exactly!"
"Oh, so when that snake jumped out at you, you endured then too didn't ya?" Klinton laughed, but no response came from Pam.
The approaching of the path's end was eminent and the sight of the helicopters would soon be obtained. The sight of those blades poured relief into the hearts of Pam and Klinton. As they got closer, Klinton couldn't help but exclaim, "I don't think I see anyone. If the Kemps aren't here, then where are they? How are we going to get home?"
Pam had a keen eye, and as usual was slightly ahead. "Yeah, something's not right, Klinton."
"What do you mean?"
Pam reflected silence again as she approached their ride home.
"Damn!"
"What! What," Klinton balked excitedly.
"Look at that. The helicopters are nearly engulfed in water."
The relief now dissipated, leaving them exasperated with fear. The water was just about to the entrance of the doors. "The helicopter must have landed on a soft spot and caused some sinking, because it's under mud a bit. I hope this won't hinder take off. Mr. Klinton, do you know anything about helicopters? It is a shame because I could have registered for pilot classes through the FBI but was fearful of flying. Anyhow, I wonder why they would have landed here."
"Hey, don't question my friends. They're good pilots, and who would have known it would rain so hard last night? I see rainforest is a fitting name."
"I'm not attacking your friends. We need to find them. But let me check something."
Pam examined closely, wondering how right she might be. Swishing and swooshing was the result of them finally getting their hands on the helicopters. Pam dipped her hand underneath the water while leaning the other hand against the helicopter.
"What are you doing?"
Pam said nothing immediately, but merely looked exasperated by the feelings of thick gooey mud that buried the helicopters' landing sleds.
"Are you trying to lift the helicopter? Ok, miss Hercules!"
"Shut up and just give me a hand."
Klinton did so, but hesitated from the unsettled feeling of liquid dirt. There was no budging these big air vehicles, and now worry and frustration entered their facial expressions. After giving it one final jolt, Klinton declared, "I don't think we're going to budge it."
"Let's check the other one." Pam rushed over several meters to the left to administer the same efforts, but to no avail. She found it was even deeper.
"Come on let's tell the others."
"Tell the others what! That we aren't going home?"
"No Klinton! Aren't your friends missing?"
"Yeah!"
"I think they will be the ones to fly us away from here, so we need to tell the others that they weren't here, and unless we find them, we're stuck."
"Oh no, I'm not stuck. There's a science boat off shore. I'll make Jerry's ass navigate me the fuck out of here."
"Oh that's right, a group of you did come by boat. You see we have a way home, after all."
They darted down the same path, omitting flower picking this time. This time they were pretty much even because Klinton cared not to indulge himself in the view from behind the agent anymore. There were other things on their minds.
"You must have been close to those pilots."
Klinton looked at Pam while keeping his same pace. "Well, we did work together, so we kind of got to know each other. You know I used to think Andrew became friends with me for some ulterior motive."
"Oh, what motive was that?"
"I can't be sure, but we didn't have many words for each other before... and I think his wife came on to me, at the time they weren't yet married, but I had no interest in her. I think Andrew thought otherwise."
"Well, how did you become friends?"
"That's funny, because Susie invited me to a function she and her husband were to attend, and I got the feeling he wasn't too fond of the idea. I think she had him whipped a little. She kind of told him what to do non-verbally, if you get my drift."
Klinton had Pam's full attention, but questions loomed and caused a curious reply. "Well, you still haven't told me how you became friends. I get the drift, but... So I guess she encouraged this friendship."
"Exactly!"
"Did she ever come on to you? You know, like you came on to me earlier."
"No, and I didn't try you!"
"Hmm I'm surprised she didn't."
"No, you got it all wrong. She wasn't thinking like that, besides they were engaged."
"You're not that gullible."
"What! I am not gullible. You know, I have never had any one tell me that?"
"I hope you know, Mr. Westfield, that there's a difference between being gullible and being stingy. Or being firm, or just plain out mean, and you've become apparent to me."
"Hold up now, this is a prejudgment. That's why I don't have a woman now."
"Yeah, I think you're right," she replied comically and with a sarcastic expression.
"You know what? You're something else."
"You're something else too. At least I know why I don't have a partner, but why don't you?"
"That's none of your business."
"I think you're scared. Yeah, I see that little brave heart over there does weep for fear at times. Just like everybody else."
"Hmm, thank God it doesn't matter what you think."
"It matters what everyone thinks, because God speaks through the people, so you should listen to everyone, rich or poor. Something you may not be able to grasp yet in your development."
"Well congratulations, you're finally making sense, but the majority of the time you have a hard time obtaining clarity."
"Clarity? What the hell is this: Speaking 101? Damn! Mini-athlete, mini-Hercules, and now you're a speech expert. I guess we can call you a Renaissance woman."
"You're not funny at all."
"Oh, I'm not trying to be. It's just that we have here is the American dream, who's terrified of snakes. If we ever get out of this shambles, you're sure to make the headlines: 'Renaissance FBI agent overcomes her phobia of snakes to escape the trenches of the wild jungle.'"
"Ha! Chuckle. Chuckle," softly spilled from Pam's lips. "You are a fool."
"No baby, I think you're mistaken. I haven't been fooled. I know what's going on. Yeah, I know exactly what's going on."
"Oh, what's going on then?" Pam replied with a smile.
"I'm feeling you. That's what's going on. You're a beautiful, intelligent, and durable woman. If I did have a woman, it wouldn't be a problem choosing you."
"Hmm, I told you. You're coming on to me."
"No, no. I just speak the truth. If that's coming on to you, then by golly I'm guilty."
Pam was just a little flattered, but the moment was halted because camp was just ahead.
"Kyser, Kyser," yelled Pam as sight of the rest of the crew became possible. They heard her cries and responded instantly.
"Pam! What is going on?"
"The helicopters seem useless and the Kemps are nowhere to be found"
"What do you mean useless?"
"They must have landed on some soft spot because last night's rain caused them to sink under mud and water."
"What! Wait a minute. The helicopters are drowned in water."
"No. Not completely. The inside isn't flooded, but the landing sleds are deep under water and mud. Like a car stuck in mud, but this seems to be worse. We weren't sure if the helicopters could still take off."
"Where are the pilots?" exclaimed Kyser.
"I don't know. They were nowhere around."
"Well, who's going to take us home," cried Klinton.
Silence loomed until Kyser broke that. "Briscoe, aren't you a pilot?"
He hesitated to respond, but then said, "Yes!"
"Well speak up! Can those helicopters take off?"
"That depends. I would have to see."
"Let's go!"
Klinton replied, "What about Andrew and Susie—they must be found. Don't forget about my boss, who you're letting decay here. What happened to everyone's morals? I know I want to get home more than anyone out here, but damn!"
Pam was the first to stop and listen to Klinton's worries, and the crew followed shortly after.
"Klinton's right. We need to find them," said Pam.
"May I suggest that there's a helicopter on the first island. I can pick it up if Jerry boats me," Briscoe uttered.
"OK, fine, then. We'll stick to Rich's plan initially. Take the body to the spot Rich mentioned and you can pick the chopper up. Richard, are they on the same island?"
There was no response, but it didn't stop Kyser's questioning. "How long will this take, Jerry?!"
"I'm not sure. How far away is the place from here?"
"If we take that big boat, it may take six or seven hours. So that's not including the time we will need to go ashore."
"You mean it could be over half the day before you all return, twelve fucking hours before we can even begin to get happy about leaving? It could be dark by then. What time does the sun set around here anyway?"
"Calm down Klinton. That gives us ample time to search for your friends. In case we have no luck in finding your friends, I want to still test those choppers. So Briscoe, you and Jerry get back here ASAP. Maybe we can pry them loose with help from the other helicopter"
"Maybe?"
"Yeah, well maybe we need to form teams! Jerry and Briscoe, obviously you two are together. Pam, you stay with Adam, and Richard you with me. Roy and Wesley you guys stay together."
While Kyser pointed the teams to their responsible areas to search, the professor wondered why he was not included. "Hey what about me. You forgot about me. Don't you people know genius when you see it?"
"OK, I'm sorry! Stick around and help Pam."
Julian had a look like he was depressed that he was unappreciated on his face. He felt as if they were disregarding his use to the team. With his head down, he headed off to aid Pam's efforts.
Jerry and Briscoe prepared the last motorboat and dumped the dead body aboard. A huge thump sounded from the tossing of Brutus, and Jerry said, "This is creepy man. I never seen a dead body, and I already have seen two today. It's creepy, isn't it? I mean, my boss right here dead, whoa! I didn't like it when he used to command me around and work me to death. Ha! I guess I get the last laugh."
Briscoe had no words and really felt exhausted because Jerry began running his mouth profusely.
"Fitting, such a fate for a hardworking man like the old Brut."
Briscoe said nothing during Jerry's pauses for air, and the sound of the motor gave rhythm to his ears. It was his only escape from the verbal pyrotechnics Jerry put on.
"You know what, he even tried to scam us on our pay. Oh, he didn't tell us how much your boss was paying on this trip. And all I've been through. This fucking heat, I know I'm used to the heat, but goddamn, unknown things biting you. At least where I'm from we knew what it was that bit ya. I'll bet you can't tell me what that is biting you now."
Briscoe looked down and slapped his hand against the creature, and Jerry clutched the corpse of his previous boss in a serious grip declaring, "Whoa, what if I happened to drop you in the drink? I wouldn't say the gators would mind. One tried to eat me because of this misfortunate trip you volunteered us for."
Briscoe said, "Oh, you almost got eaten by a crocodile. Hah, that's funny." Briscoe surely was amused, chuckling so hard he almost mis-steered the boat. A swerve in the commanding Amazon caused both to grip the boat. Jerry dropped the dead one to make sure he didn't have a second round with those reptiles.
"Hey man, watch it. I've already been swimming for the day."
"You idiot, the day just started."
"I mean yesterday—you know what I mean. Shit. Ever since I came to this jungle my sense of time has been screwed up."
The boat was under good control now and they were on their way down the river. It was fairly peaceful along the way. The sun was piercing and more so because they weren't protected by the massive canopy of trees that lie on both sides of the river.
Jerry watched the bow of the boat slice through the river causing a ripple of waves. "I've never seen fish like this, they're swimming so harmoniously."
Briscoe took a look and replied, "Those are piranhas, and they aren't as forgiving as a crocodile."
"I'll bet. I ought to feed them a Brutus meal."
Briscoe shook his head and continued to steer the small motorboat. "Hey, Jerry! It's time for you to get ready to take over."
Jerry stood up and gazed at the science vessel ahead. "It sure is a lovely boat. I wouldn't mind having it."
"Well pretend it's yours and maybe you will get us where we need to be safely."
"Oh, you don't question my abilities, do you? You know I've been raised around boats since I was yea big. You know when I was eight, me and my dad went on a fishing trip far out on the lake, and he got too damn drunk. The motherfucker passed out, and oh yeah, he's a motherfucker or else I wouldn't be here. I had to get us home. I was scared as shit, especially when I tried to wake his drunk ass. I really didn't know which way to go, or even how to turn the boat. I mean I watched my dad, but he hadn't got around to teaching me yet. I figured if I could turn the boat around and keep it straight, we could run into shore at some point. Luckily, we ended up right back where we started, but that trip made him teach me right away. I thank Jesus for that. He really cared for me then, but since I've become a man he hasn't shined down on me much."
Jerry needed a breath giving time for Briscoe to respond unenthusiastically. "Touching story! I hope that you are finished because it's time to board your boat and get it moving."
"Sure, I'm ready. Let's get it together."
The two had a task ahead of them that would prove to be their fate, and the cessation of their sentient being.