Docs Viewer

Chapter 8 The sun was beginning to descend into the latter part of the western skies, and those who could see it were astonished by the glistening reddish-orange King as it completed one more cycle. “Hold up, Milo. You’re moving too fast.” From the distance came an echoed reply. “I’m trying to hurry up and finish before… oh shit!” “What’s the matter,” Ron called out frantically as he accelerated his pace. “Damn,” was all Ron heard, and he replied. “What! What is going on? Milo!” There was a stagnant moment of silence before Milo could explain his grief. “I didn’t see this on the map,” Milo whined. “What Milo? What?” Ron yelled as he approached closely, noticing Milo point with aggression. “Holy shit, a goddamn stream.” Ron had a puzzled look as he gazed at the roaring waters raging through the jungle. Milo continued, “We need to get across to measure the remaining distance to the eastern shoreline.” Ron scanned his readings and suggested, “Well, how far could it be. I mean, we’ve measured this far.” “But look, Ron! This stream isn’t on the map, so I don’t know if its 100m or 250m.” “We’ll, what the fuck are we going to do?” “Tell you what, let me see,” Milo said with a tone of growing confidence. “I’m going to run along this stream and see if there’s some way to cross it.” “Ah huh.” A chuckle sputtered from Ron’s mouth and he said, “I don’t know if we can ford that stream — it’s roaring.” “Hold this,” cried Milo as he darted his way boldly alongside the stream. Ron accepts his comrade’s instruments, and then he watches as Milo slowly disappears into the thick forest. Ron clutched what he was holding harder as Milo became more and more difficult to see. He watched until Milo dropped out of his sight. In fact, the men knew that they needed hurry up with the remaining land because the light was dimming noticeably. Ron found this out when he tried to run after his boss. The sun was indeed setting, but it was difficult to determine because of the thick trees, but they had also underestimated the evening illumination in this forest land. It was not easy to see far ahead, and Milo was the first to find that out as he fought his way through thick branches, dense vines, and rough terrain. This proved even more difficult than it would normally be in a rainforest because he traveled on the edge of this mighty stream. The current traveled deep into the thick forest and showed no sign of an ending. Milo began to get frustrated and did not realize how far downstream he had traveled. “Damn it!” His grunts and moans grew in frequency with his agitation. “Shit, Hmm…” The frustration now was being translated into determination, however, and he continued to fight through. At this point, he had forgotten what the true objective was in crossing the stream, but he wasn’t aware let alone concerned about the loss of focus. Eventually, it became apparent there was no way across, and this caused him to now refocus into his own little zone. His paces began to increase as did his breathing, which corresponded to his every dedicated effort. Clump, clump! “Argh! Oh shit damn, damn, damn! Shit, I’m bleeding? I didn’t see that damned sticker bush,” screamed Milo in pain and showing it all as he stared the bush down. Milo picked himself up and sat on a tree stump to try to regain his breath. Blood ran furiously down his leg, and he neglected to wipe it, only to mope in disbelief. It was getting quite dark now, and he had wandered quite far. He looked at the stream with vengeance, because it was the reason why he was in this situation in the first place. He glanced at the blood that ran down his leg, almost giving it a dull stare, but then he quickly looked up at the stream with the same attitude for just a short moment. The path he thought would get him back to camp was now what he wanted to locate. However, he did not move. He only looked around several times before getting stuck gazing only at the roaring stream. He began to notice the beauty, then in the corner of his eyes, “What the fuck!” Looking up quick and distorted, he thought his eyes had caught the glimpse of a bucknaked man dashing through the forest. He dismissed this as an illusion, a hallucination brought on by his circumstances, and continued to stand hunched back over this huge tree stump. He thought to himself how amazing this stream was that he’d found flowing through the forest, but somehow the trees remained rooted. It resembled a river flowing through the jungle, and the beauty of the stream struck him again, but the sight of that man disturbed the wild elegance the stream represented. He could not deny what he thought he saw now. In an effort to see what, or who, seemed to be watching, Milo stumbled over the tree stump, and immediately called out in distress, hoping Ron could hear him even though he had traveled very far. Just before, when Milo had raged in terror, Ron believed he had heard something of that nature. He couldn’t really decipher the sounds, or even the fact his buddy called out in distress. The fact that fear engulfed him, and his inability to make sense of all the different forest sounds, is probably what distorted his hearing. Nevertheless, Ron walked forward because Milo had not returned. The Latino man was reluctant to follow the treacherous path Milo had trotted moments before. “Milo!” Ron yelled loudly, again and again. “Milo,” again exclaimed Ron even louder than before, but to no avail. He began to drift beyond his current position because he couldn’t see very well. He also began to worry after several calls went unanswered. In a terrified manner, Ron quickly darted back toward camp to get the other crew. His frantic get away was evident, because he nearly stumbled over every other stump that was in his way. Finally making within shouting range of camp, he yelled, “Nick, Gary, hey man I need your help. Milo went off into the forest and wouldn’t answer when I called for him. I thought I heard him cry for help.” The men’s attention was disrupted from their feasting upon a squirrel Gary had skinned and roasted. They both looked up to see why Ron was panting. “What’s wrong?” yelled Nick. “Oh man! Fellas, you all got to help me.” “What! Where’s Milo?” “That’s the problem. He went off into the woods and has not returned.” A chuckle came from Nick’s mouth and he said, “He’s probably fucking with your scary ass.” “No way, man! We came across a stream and he went to see if it could be crossed but he never came back. I think he may have tried to cross and fell in — no telling what is in that murky water. We need to find Milo.” “OK, OK, calm down! Calm down,” said Gary in a surrendering tone. Before he could say anything else Nick blurted, “Calm down, damn! You scary fuck, we’ll find him.” Come on Gary, let’s go and find Milo for this scary cunt.” “Man, fuck you. I know when something is not right.” “Oh yeah, sure Ronnie boy!” Ron became frustrated at Nick’s comments, but he ignored him by speeding ahead of the crew to the last spot he saw Milo. Milo still sat next to the stream that wound within the depths of the forest and revealed no true beginning or ending. Blood had run unceasingly from his wound caused by his earlier blunder. There was also a botch on his head from his stumbling over the stump that he now used to relax and observe the stream, perhaps the man he’d seen in the trees if he showed himself again, and his wound. The head wound was the cause of his disorientation, and the reason for being severely startled as he plunged headlong into the water. Splashing violently, the relative coolness gave way to a burning sensation as his nose filled with water. The water also soothed his injuries with coolness. Finally floating to the top after plunging deep, he was when able to gasp for air and cough any trespassing water out. Even though he got this somewhat relief, his wound did not stop bleeding. This fact made the blood permeate the stream, and it began drifting on the currents, which he knew was not a good thing for him because he did not know what could be lurking in this winding stream. His wounds weren’t making his panic better, which now pulsated with pain because the cold water effect had worn off. The blood continued to drip, making a long and scent filled trail. He was certain that there were all kinds of things in this water: alligators and crocodiles, water moccasins and anacondas. There were certainly all types of creatures lurking in the forest, especially a small isolated stream whose source was the mighty Amazon. There were fishes of all types: eels, stingrays, and even blood sucking leeches. Milo floated about, trying rigorously to stay above water, not only to catch his breath, but also not to notice what was beneath him. In fact, what was below these murky waters were all sorts of unknown creatures. There were also things of beauty swimming below — gaudy uncatalogued fish that were colorful and swam in synchronistic formations giving true meaning to nature. There were also spotted bass with their black dotted spots on their tails all about. At the bottom were beautiful fish with red bellies that swam in huge schools, their swimming patterns resembling military formations. They appeared more organized than any other fish, and reflected that same beauty from a distance. But all of a sudden their harmonious and synchronistic swimming became erratic and unstable. They appeared to have been aroused and now began to swim in huge swarms. The scent of blood was evident to these Amazonian creatures. As if he knew, Milo began to swim more frantically, sensing something in this water may want him for a meal. He knew he needed to get out the moment he plunged in yelling, “Help! Somebody help!” The water gagged him slightly and it was heard in his every cry. “Help, oh shit, oh shit! Ahhh…!” Milo yelled as loudly as he could manage. A huge swarm of piranha’s teeth had engaged his wound fiercely, and they continued to strike by the hundreds. In moments, they had disintegrated his wound and continued to saw away with their teeth. Ten seconds later, Milo had a vacant stare upon his face. The very blood that kept him alive had dripped out of him, and the menacing fish continued to munch away leaving gapping holes in his legs. Hundreds of muscular fish with dentures that the local Indians used to cut their clothes were now being used to cut Milo. Thirty seconds had passed and they were now inside his cavity, feasting upon liver, heart, and stomach. Continuing in massive swarms, they engorged into what’s left of the organs and finished the remaining flesh. There wasn’t much left of Milo, except his partially torn clothes still hanging upon his skeletal frame, specifically his coat. The brain was valuable for its nutrients, and the fish ate every morsel as soon as they chewed through his neck cavity. Only scarce remnants of flesh remained, and dangled from his bones. Milo’s horrible death had brought much joy to other life forms. All anyone would have seen was his coat floating above water and the splashing the carnivore fish made. The currents drifted him down stream that winded within the dark expanse of this grim forest. Finally, a branch caught the coat, which left what was left of the lifeless Milo suspended in one spot while the fish continued to assure every opportunity to get some calories was met. Meanwhile, the others were unaware that their rescue attempts were slightly behind schedule. After running far ahead of the others, Ron stopped to gasp furiously in an effort to catch his breath. He waited for his friends while he continued to swoon from his extreme adrenaline rush. Ron stood with his hands on his knees and looked firmly in the direction he believed Milo had vanished. Fierce and timid eyes alike produced uncertainty in him as they peered from the darkness, and he began to shudder inside upon hearing Gary and Nick’s cluttered conversation approaching. “Are you trying to leave us, Ron?” “Yeah! Goddamn, your running your ass off, and you ask for our help. Since you’re running your ass off, why in the fuck you ain’t run your ass off and find Milo?” The men were now all together, but Gary uttered immediately after Nick spoke, “There’s no way he could have crossed this. How?” Gary questioned. “I’m sure he knew that.” “Well let’s go, he went this way along the stream.” The three gentlemen followed the path in search of their missing comrade. Nick led the bunch, followed by Ron and Gary. Ironically, Nick walked ahead. It seemed Ron’s enthusiasm had worn off, but they all called for Milo and fought the same rugged terrain. They were all pumped up now. Their hyperventilation was due to a sense of urgency to hear their comrade’s voice. Ron was actually pumped for more than one reason, however — the other was Nick’s constant mouth. He wasn’t scared, and courage was all about him this very moment. Gary remained calm, but one thing was different about him. Forgetting to light a cigar usually didn’t happen no matter what the emergency, but this occasion seemed to mark that as fair minimum. “Milo!” Ron called out trying to avoid the response from Nick. “Well, where did he go?” “I don’t know, man.” “What do you mean, you don’t know? Where did you last see him?” “Ummm, I last saw him…” A bit of hesitation as to their location had set in and his pondering where they were at was evident. “Where I waited for you back there.” Ron pointed in the direction of the spot where he had waited for them, when he first ran off ahead of Gary and Nick. “You mean you didn’t even go look for the man before you came running to us? At least you could have gotten some sense of direction. You see what I mean, Gary.” Nick looked at Gary and shook his head in disgust. He pointed his flashlight downstream and began to observe while speaking, “I don’t see much of shit. You think it’s a good idea to split up.” Gary pondered this possibility for a brief moment, and Ron helped by adding, “I don’t’ know if that’s a good idea. I know Milo. He was looking to conquer this stream. Believe me, he stood close to the edge.” Nick looked at Ron, and for once, he convinced them. The crew minus one stood together now and fought their way downstream. However, by this time, Ron was a little ways ahead of Nick and Gary. His confidence had been boosted by speaking his mind. He was determined, because without Milo, Nick was left to run all over poor old Ron. He searched with his flashlight, and he saw in the distance light water disturbances that produced a cause for urgency. He directed his flashlight in that direction. “Milo!” he hollered sharply. Then Ron noticed what appeared to be Milo’s raincoat, who had been wearing it for the protection it offered from mosquitoes. It was complimented by a pair of yellow rain boots, and Ron noticed one over there by the tree stump, which initially caused him to sharpen his eyesight. “Hey, I found one of his boots. I told you! I told you! He must have fallen in,” cried Ron. Nick pointed his flashlight in the direction of Ron’s cries as they approached him. In the near distance Ron cried, “It looks like he’s holding onto a branch or something. We’ve got to get him and pull him out.” Ron squealed louder, waiting for Gary and Nick, “Milo! Milo! We’re coming! Hold on!” Gary and Nick arrived at that very tree stump Milo once rested upon, and they immediately noticed bloodstains. This alarmed them and made them take Ron cries a little more seriously. Ron was just ahead and he continued to call out. His comrades heard, but they were awed at what they currently laid their eyes upon. Gary looked puzzled. “Why in the hell was he doing? I know he wasn’t trying to cross here.” Nick gazed at the curious setting and advised strongly, “Come on, let’s find out what Ron’s squealing about.” “Hey guy’s, over here! I think I found him. Look… over there.” They all gathered around to focus in on the apparent presence of Milo, but before moments could pass, Ron blurted. “That doesn’t look like splashing!” “What is that?” Gary exclaimed while he squinted his eyes to fight the darkness. “Oh shit man, I don’t think he’s holding on. I don’t think he’s holding on. Oh shit man, what is that?” Ron proceeded to try and reach for Milo. “Get your hands back!” Nick shouted while pulling Ron back fast. “You wanna get your ass ate up, or at least bit up.” “What!?” “Don’t what me, you see.” “What the fuck,” replied Ron with amazement coupled with exasperation. Gary said, “Oh man, those piranhas had a feast.” Ron looked at Gary and Nick, and then glanced upon what was left of Milo before he started puking. “Oh no man, no man, shit! How could this happen?” cried Ron. “Because you left his ass, dummy.” “Hold on, Nick. Now leave him alone. Let’s get the hell out of here.” “We need to call that Richard muthafucka to get us the fuck out of here, or that pilot. Or whoever.” “How do we get back?” “See! See! I told you we shouldn’t have let that pilot leave us.” “Calm down Nick, just follow this same stream.” The men ran back the way they came as best they could and hysteria ran rampant in the air. The entire way back, the men bickered continuously. although Gary spoke hardly at all, except for the few times he had to save Ron’s neck from Nick’s constant verbal abuse. In fact, Gary kept them on track to camp, because if not, Ron and Nick would probably have wandered off into the wilderness. “Man, I don’t believe this shit… You done let Milo fall in the water and get eaten by fish…,” said Nick disappointedly. “I mean how and the hell can that happen?” Gary intervened with smooth comments. “Gentlemen, we need to remain focused. I believe just ahead is where we need to take that left path.” They made their way closer to camp before Gary was the first to say, “Ron, didn’t you have a cell phone. I know it’s a long shot, but see if you can get a reception. Call that Richard guy.” Ron reached for his phone and Nick asked, “Do you even have the number, a klutz like you.” “Yes you jackass. It’s in the phone. Now leave me the fuck alone.” “Call him,” exclaimed Gary. Ron searched for the number while complaining. “I’m not sure if we’ll get a reception.” He pressed the talk button and paced back and forth trying to get the clearest reception. “Here, I think I can hear OK.” He stood over a patch in the forest where he could see the night sky and that was manageable. The phone rang and Ron stared for some reason away from the western flowing river, but towards the same jungle that had consumed Milo before. “Hello, this is Susan. How may I direct your call?” “I need Richard!” Oh I’m sorry. The office is closed. You will have to call back during normal business hours.” Ron stared into the eyes of something that concealed itself behind a tree that lay in the distance. It was dark, so his sights were dim, but what he could see was stunning and terrifying. He lost contact with the eyes when Nick snatched the phone from his clutched hands. “Give me that,” he said abruptly! “What the fuck did they say, Ron? Hello, is anyone home? Earth to Ron. What the fuck did they say?” “I don’t know man. I don’t know,” replied Ron with the panic evident in his voice. “What do you mean, you don’t know? What the fuck is wrong with you man? You look like you saw a ghost. Gary, man, get a hold of that young man.” “What’s the fucking number you dimwit.” Nick proceeded to call the company after literally squeezing the numerals out of him. The phone rang again and Gary consoled Ron, trying hard to find out why he was in a daze. “Hello this is Susan. How may I direct your call?” “Yes, I need Richard.” “I’m sorry, but…” “This is an emergency, what do you mean I’m sorry,” exclaimed Nick with agitation boiling in his voice. “What is his home number?” “I’m sorry but that information in unavailable.” “Is that all you are is sorry? What do you mean it’s unavailable. I need someone immediately, and I can care less about how sorry you are.” “Sir, listen! The office is closed. Would you like his voice mail?” “Look lady, there’s been an accident. Who’s in charge of this project in South America.” “Oh, the project. One moment please.” The operator transferred the call as soon as she realized who was on the other end. “This is John! How can I help you?” “Look John, is that your name?” A polite yes followed and Nick continued his yelling. “You need to get Richard on the phone, now!” “Wait, who is this?” “Nick, with Milo and Sons Contractors Inc. You know, we were hired for this jungle bullshit.” “Oh yes sir. How’s it going?” “Not dandy, that’s for damned sure. Look, I suggest you get us the fuck out of here. One of our men has been eaten alive. I hope you all don’t want us to stay here and be done the same way. I think not. I think you muthafuckas are crazy if you expect that.” A silence persisted after Nick had gotten the frustration off his chest. The sounds of the night time forest vibrated all around them. While Nick waited to be connected to Richard, Gary and Ron had a quite conversation between them. However, those eyes watched the gentlemen once again. There were now other eyes around other trees and the sounds of the jungle seemed amplified. Chapter 9 There were chants and the sound of wood being struck echoing as if primitive instruments were being beaten upon. The scent of the mystical loomed in the air. Images of indigenous primitive dancers performed around an intense fire. These images began when they waited to be connected to Richard, and they flashed throughout the night. However, the men were unaware of these rituals being performed within the deep expanses of the unknown. This actually had been going on ever since the foreigners arrived with their selfish intentions. Every night this ritual was being performed, every night since Richard laid eyes upon one of the natives. This ritual required consumption of rare plants and mushrooms to invoke psychedelic effects and constructive hallucinations. Although, the intruders could not hear it, the spirits were being called upon. No matter the reality, the sounds grew louder and the images flashed more intensely. “Richard here!” “Rich,” Nick said, with impudence and exasperation in his voice. “How dare you,” exclaimed Richard. However, Nick paid little attention to the fact that his address had disgruntled the other man. “Well Rich, how about you get your ass right here to South America, and get us the fuck out of here. I hope you have your checkbook as well.” Nick stood awaiting an answer, and the remaining members of his crew were paying full attention. “Well, who am I speaking to first?” “Fuck all that. You know who you brought down here. We don’t have time for name games, and all that bullshit… Man, my boss was just eaten, and you’re lollygagging! What the fuck?” “OK. Ok, wait a minute! Did you say Mr. Evans?” “Oh, now you know who we are.” “What happened?” “Just please get us the fuck out of here before we call the National Guard for rescue, and I’ll tell them you left us out here stranded. Law suits up your ass.” “Hold up, sir. There’s no way I can get there tonight. The contract was for a minimum of two days, besides how do I know that this is not some prank call.” Nick failed to respond because the rage boiled so deeply and stymied any focus for his emotions, which were in a state of flux. He thought, I didn’t want to be here, but some how I had no choice. Gary was paying complete attention to this conversation, but Ron glanced off periodically to notice those eyes again. He tried not to look, but something compelled him to do so. He wanted to avoid staring directly into those eyes, but the tendency to look was too strong. He fought hard by looking in different spots, only to notice there was no escape because they were all around. His awareness had veered away from Nick’s verbal assault on Richard. Just before alerting the others, he looked in one direction and noticed eyes that didn’t look like the others. These were even spookier and remained in one particular spot longer than the others. The darkness in combination with thick masses of trees made seeing clearly nearly impossible. These eyes that now had Ron’s full attention were even more still and shined more brilliantly. “Hey fellows, I think we’re being watched.” Gary redirected his attention from Nick’s conversation to Ron. “What’s up Ron?” “I think someone is watching us! Look! Those eyes! Ron pointed at the mysterious eyes watching them, and Gary took heed when he too noticed the sharply cut eyes. Nick saw that his companions were staring and said, “What are you all looking at.” He approached their position to try to get equal view to his comrades, but his sight was not as keen. “What do ya’ll see.” The men didn’t reply but remained focused on the hypnotizing eyes. Nick reached for his flashlight simultaneously flicking the switch, and pointing the beam of light directly at the eyes all in a smooth motion. This startled the eyes and the sound of a crackling roar followed by a suspended hiss came from directly in front of them, and the eyes darted towards the gentlemen. Like a stalker in the night and a keen predator, the jaguar chased the men like it had cubs to feed. Ron blurted, “Oh shit a lion.” “I don’t think lions are in this part of the world,” exclaimed Gary standing there still. Nick had jetted before any conversation, and Ron followed before Gary could get the last words out. Nick darted faster than a track star getting out of the blocks and had a few meters on Ron. The wild slick cat was in hot pursuit, while Gary stood in the same spot and watched the cat and mouse game unfold. The two headed towards the woods instinctively, and it was unclear who exactly the cat had his eyes on. Tree branches and limbs crackled from the panic in Nick and Ron’s decampment. The cat’s movements were silent and stealth itself, the creature gracefully fast. They probably intended to stay together when they first scampered off, but instincts proved Ron and Nick had different fates. Ron seemed to be slightly quicker for his fear propelled him considerably. They began to drift apart like a ‘v’, and definitely not a straight one. The jungle brush made it difficult to work their way ahead, and this hungry animal closed fast. Gary was amazed that brief moment he viewed his colleagues’ escapade. He had even stood there moments after they were out of sight, his eyes staring into the night. Paralyzed for just a moment, he darted for camp with severe clumsiness. He hadn’t smoked a cigar, and this was longest he had gone in a while. Desperately arriving at the camp, he began immediately to fumble with the radio. Static fuzzed from his constant attempts to establish a frequency. “Please come in! This is Gary needing rescue assistance. I am transmitting from 61 degrees latitude and 15 degrees longitude, please respond. If anyone can hear me, I beg that you please respond.” Gary’s breath was ragged and he was raving into the headset. He then attempted other frequencies not realizing the radio was already set. “Do you read me, please come in. This is a distress call!” This was repeated constantly before hearing Captain Briscoe. Meanwhile, Ron and Nick’s fate was just about to be decided. Their voices echoed in terror. Not really sure of where to run, Nick had chosen a tree to climb. This seemed silly initially, since cats have no problem in that department. However, the cat didn’t chase after him — it decided to pursue Ron. Nick looked down with breath gasping enormously from mouth and nostrils, clinging tightly to the lower branches of a winding tree. “Oh shit man, run! Run! Run!” Nick yelled louder and louder until his breath now had control over the volume of his vocals. Ron didn’t need his advice one bit, nor did the wild and arcane feline, which was closing fast. The two played a brief zigzag game. Ron tried to evade the fierce cat’s agility by ducking, dodging, and running with all his might. Despite his efforts, the cat continued to close on him rapidly. He used the bushes to weave through, hoping to compensate for his predator’s superior quickness. That didn’t help, because the cat sliced through the jungle, proving it was at home and not Ron. Nick had remained in his tree, shattered with disbelief, and he showed no signs of coming down. “Captain Briscoe responding to the stress signal transmitted on delta/gamma frequency, copy!” “Hello! Hello!” Captain, please, we need rescuing!” “What seems to be the problem…copy.” “One of our crew members is dead, and we’re being chased by wild animals.” “Is this the crew I flew to the site?” “Yes, you dimwit.” “Well, if you would have said who it was.” “Just get here in a hurry!” Gary spoke his last words as if that is exactly what they were. Captain Briscoe immediately reported in to show his loyalty to Richard. “This is Captain Briscoe, assigned to project Rainforest.” “John here.” “I have a distress call from your crew.” “Are you still communicating with them?” “I have them on delta/gamma frequency.” “Keep them calm. I need to get Richard on line.” “This is Briscoe. Crew, are you still transmitting?” Gary did not answer because he had just departed with some sort of manmade weapon carved out of leftover material from building the camp. He was going on a mission to help his comrades. “Do you read me? Crew, please respond.” Gary had forgotten something of importance and heard the incoming transmission accidentally as he returned to the camp. “Yes, this is Gary. Are you fucks on your way.” By this time Richard had been patched in for the conference call. “What’s the problem?” “Look, you all have dropped us off in the middle of no where, basically unprepared. Shit, if I would have known, I would have brought my goddamn rifles. Shit, I did know, but this was such a rush I didn’t have time to bring ‘em, but I’ll be goddamned!” “OK, OK, tell me what happened.” “I really don’t have time to tell you a story. You better get here ASAP. I need to go and find the other surviving crew members.” Gary turned away from the radio, but he then turned and stared at it as if it were responsible for their delayed rescue. He reached for a cigar with one hand and had a weapon clutched in the other, and then he darted off to find where his friends and co-workers could be. Gary’s demeanor resembled Milo’s when he was trying to conquer the stream. It was also similar in the sense that the adrenaline level was a hindering factor. Not to mention the fact he didn’t know where to start searching. All he knew was the general vicinity where the chase initiated. They scattered so quickly, and it all happened so fast, that it was tough to know which direction to take. Somewhere in the middle is what he was thinking, following the river until he reached the spot where the cat first lashed out. He spoke to himself aloud, “Just follow along that path. I should find something. If I turn my back towards the river, and search directly in front of me, I should run into to Nick or Ron.” He proceeded with vigor. Ron now grew silent and only sounds that came from his direction were his feet clashing with brush. A pure rush of adrenaline fueled his movements, which also gave Ron the ability to survive one more thing. He made a sharp cut and tumbled down an abrupt incline. The bruises and dirt accumulation went unnoticed — he seemed immune to the pain because his life was more important. After getting up, he quickly resumed running, Ron’s fear pulsating in an invisible aura around him. He could feel the eagerness reverberating in the cat’s eyes, and then he could hear the roars. Ron’s next step was vital because it not only sealed his fate but rearranged it totally. The bushes crackled, so did the leaves, and the brush that was pushed aside. A deep and desperate southern accent cried out. “Nick!” A pause followed, but the night was far from silent because the forest was filled with creepy sounds. It was pitch black by this time, and Gary only had a simple lighting utensil. Another cry uttered from Gary’s mouth. “Ron.” Panic loomed in Gary’s mind, but he struggled to keep it under control. Lighting a cigar, he stood there wondering if he should continue to go straight ahead. Puffing rigorously to assure it was lit, he felt a sudden calm from the initial inhalation. He walked forward like a soldier experiencing guerilla warfare. Little did Gary know, the spirits of the forest were literally his counterparts in some ritualistic battle. The chants didn’t stop. In fact, they got louder and eyes pierced throughout the forest. Gary penetrated deeper, looking very hard while calling out for his colleagues. Deep sounds of bass echoed from some primitive instruments within the forest and slowly became noticeable to Gary’s ears. The harmonic thumps caused curiosity in Gary’s mind, and began to severely distort it. He now veered off a little from the task of finding Ron and Nick, but instead opted to investigate the sounds that intrigued him. It required splendid effort to cut through the brush, and darkness was not an ally. Sweat poured, and he probably burned a few pounds in his efforts. His breath was also depleted to the point that he discarded his cigar gratefully. Ascending a slight slope was partial cause for his lack of respiration, not to mention his obesity. Tired from the sudden trek, he yelled, “Shit!” Deciding to sit down near a tree that sat at the top of this slope, he received an unexpected view in some uncharted section of the jungle. He tried to regain his breath in huge heaps. Gary rolled over on his stiff stomach, which resemble a sturdy blubber pad. The mist was heavy, and his eyes struggled to see through it. The thick jungle brush also played a tag team partner in his vision impairments. If only his hearing senses were impaired, because the sounds of owls, unidentifiable insects, and other miscellaneous creatures were enough to make him crazy. The thumps also got louder and chants were now becoming recognizable. Gary’s breath had finally achieved equilibrium, and the mist drifted apart just a bit. The right breeze helped in the manipulation of the mist, and made it manageable in eyesight terms. However the view was little, and required that he squint, confirming that the breeze did a lousy job. Nevertheless, he began to focus just a little, and he noticed darkness all around him. His pupils dilated severely as he adjusted to the simple light at an angle. The dark patch began to become a little clearer, as he noticed a huge tree that was larger than any in the immediate forest. He even looked up at the tree next to him and thought, ‘Wow!” There were huge trees virtually everywhere, but he refocused on this one because it had and attractive aurora that captured anyone who looked too long. He stared at it and the dark area became clearer. He noticed people, and he thought of Ron and Nick, but he knew it couldn’t be his friends he was seeing. The tree’s magnetism, and maybe even some telepathic essence, stunned Gary and left him speechless. All he could do was look, and it was strange that these people were all black people, or no! He realized they looked like Indians. This conclusion was drawn from the programming of a child, when cowboys and Indians were the main theme in his culture. These people with paint on their faces, wild briefs, and tattoos fit that very description. They were doing exactly what the childhood hoopla portrayed, dancing around that same gigantic tree with primitive instruments, chanting something harmonically that was undecipherable. There was also a spiritual essence that got stronger, and so did Gary’s eyesight towards. The chants and praises seemed to pulsate vibrantly, and helped him overcome his visual constraints. He tried to think about Ron, but his thoughts were vague. In fact, at that very moment, Ron was making that step to the left to avoid being razored with claws, but where he stepped was a soft spot that soon collapsed. A screeching shout escaped from Ron’s mouth as the ground beneath him gave way. The fall wasn’t long, but it wasn’t easy to get grip to pull oneself up. Realizing he had fallen in some kind of hole, panic raged in his efforts to raise himself out. Grunts and groans were the sum of his attempts until he thought he needed to settle down. He figured that he shouldn’t be hasty anyway and climb into the paws of a hungry feline. Ron leaned up against the dirt walls of the hole that capture him. Covered in grime, his fears convinced him he was doomed. “Help! Help!” screamed Ron to the top of his lungs. Not only was this a hole it was also a home, but Ron was just finding that out. He noticed huge red spots darting across his shoes and ankles at great speeds. The red spots Ron observed also had darker red spots on them. There were so many now. “Oh shit!” Panic and fright filled Ron’s soul as hundreds and hundreds crawled all over his body, and they bit hard. Hundred of thousands of bites from head to toe is what Ron experienced, and it wasn’t pleasant. He must have jumped, skipped, and danced all over the tiny space trying to run, climb, and pull himself up, but to no prevail. He screamed and raged in agony. “Ahh shaaaahhhhhtttt…Shit! Help! Oh my God, please, please. Get them off me, ahhh!!!” This yelling should have been heard throughout the forest, because the small bites came by the hundreds. He must have slapped, punched, and clawed himself to misery because of the little critters. He even tried to scrape them off frantically, but that didn’t help because he was caved into a nest. Hundreds even thousands overlapped his body entirely. They bit and bit until they eventually caused him to faint. He was now unconscious and being eaten alive slowly but surely, their bites and stings seeping slowly into his blood stream. Ultimately, the toxins were the cause of his fainting, but the rest was taken care off by their enormous appetites. A body this huge would take a while, but that didn’t matter. They were accustomed to working hard to stockpile enough food for the harsh seasons. Besides, there was a queen to look after, and this was enough to feed their nest for many seasons to come. Ron now had an out-of-body experience, drifting about the forest to never return to his tomb to officially die, but instead to loom forever, trapped with the spirits of the forest. The ants sure didn’t mind one bit. The strength in the chants grew and the essence of the forest seemed to need feeding. Gary was another possible meal as he stood entranced by that stunning tree. He still stared at it vigorously, even though naked men danced around this very object. The focus he maintained became eerie, and images pulsated in Gary’s mind. The forest sounds began to mute and the chants and praises were heard only as background noise. There was a connection between the huge tree and the one he was standing under. Suddenly, all sounds muted entirely. The focus on the tree before him grew stronger, and the only sound he noticed was a crackling, which was very loud, since it appeared to be the only sound that penetrated Gary’s zone. It was the branch above him snapping and descending with full force. The rapid dissent in combination with the branch’s mass crushed Gary’s back. It squeezed the life out of him