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Calibri;Calibri; \*Riched20 10.0.22621 Chapter 8 The sun was beginning to descend into the western sky, casting a breathtaking reddish-orange glow as it completed another cycle. Those who could see it were momentarily captivated by its beauty. "Hold up, Milo. Youre moving too fast." From a distance came an echoed reply. "Im trying to hurry up and finish beforeoh shit!" "Whats the matter?" Ron called out frantically, quickening his pace. "Damn," was all Ron heard before he shouted back, "What! What is going on, Milo?" A stagnant moment of silence passed before Milo finally voiced his frustration. "I didnt see this on the map." "What, Milo? What?" Ron demanded as he approached, noticing Milo pointing aggressively ahead. "Holy shita goddamn stream." Ron wore a puzzled look as he gazed at the roaring waters raging through the jungle. "We need to get across to measure the remaining distance to the eastern shoreline," Milo explained. Scanning his readings, Ron suggested, "Well, how far could it be? I mean, weve measured this far." "But look, Ron! This stream isnt on the map, so I dont know if its 100 meters or 250 meters." "Well, what the fuck are we going to do?" "Tell you whatlet me see," Milo said with growing confidence. "Im going to run along this stream and see if theres some way to cross it." "Uh-huh." A chuckle sputtered from Rons mouth. "I dont know if we can ford that streamits roaring." "Hold this," Milo cried, handing over his instruments before darting off boldly along the stream. Ron gripped the equipment tightly, watching as Milo slowly disappeared into the thick forest. He held his breath, tracking Milo until he completely vanished from sight. With daylight fading rapidly, Ron realized they had underestimated just how dark it could get in the thick of the rainforest. Attempting to follow Milo, he found visibility was already becoming an issue. Meanwhile, Milo fought through dense vines, thick branches, and rough terrain, pushing forward with determination. The stream continued deep into the jungle, showing no sign of an ending. Frustration mounted, and he failed to realize just how far downstream he had traveled. "Damn it!" he grunted, his irritation giving way to sheer determination. At this point, he had lost sight of his original objective and was focused solely on finding a way across. His breath quickened with every determined step. Clump! Clump! "Argh! Oh shit! Damn, damn, damn!" Milo screamed in pain, glaring at the sticker bush that had shredded his leg. He collapsed onto a tree stump, catching his breath while blood ran freely down his calf. He neglected to wipe it away, instead staring at it in disbelief. Dusk had settled in, and he had wandered far. Gazing at the stream with vengeance, he cursed it for being the reason he was stuck in this predicament. Then, out of the corner of his eye "What the fuck!" His head snapped up, eyes darting wildly. Had he just seen a buck-naked man dashing through the trees? Dismissing it as an illusiona trick played by exhaustion and fading lighthe hunched over the stump, attempting to steady his nerves. The rushing stream, though an obstacle, held an eerie, mesmerizing beauty. But the feeling of being watched gnawed at him. He stumbled backward, disoriented, then called out in distress, hoping Ron could hear him despite the distance. Ron, having felt an odd unease moments before, thought he heard something faintly but couldnt make it out. The rainforest was alive with sounds, distorting his perception. "Milo!" Ron yelled repeatedly, his voice echoing into the jungle. Silence. His concern escalating, Ron sprinted back toward camp to get help. His frantic movements betrayed his fear, nearly tripping over roots and undergrowth along the way. Reaching shouting distance of camp, he yelled, "Nick! Gary! Hey, man, I need your help! Milo went off into the forest and wont answer me. I think I heard him cry for help." Nick and Gary, mid-feast on a roasted squirrel, looked up in confusion. "Whats wrong?" Nick called. "Oh man! Fellas, you gotta help me." "What? Wheres Milo?" "Thats the problem. He went off into the woods and hasnt come back." Nick chuckled. "Hes probably just fucking with your scary ass." "No way, man! We found a stream, and he went to check if we could cross. I think he fell inno telling whats in that murky water! We need to find him." "Okay, okay, calm down," Gary said, his voice steady. "Yeah, calm down, damn!" Nick added with a smirk. "Well find him. Come on, Gary, lets go save Milo for this scary fuck." "Man, fuck you! I know when something isnt right." "Oh yeah, sure, Ronnie boy!" Ignoring Nick, Ron led the charge back to where he last saw Milo. Meanwhile, Milo sat near the stream, his wound still oozing blood. He barely registered the pain, lost in the hypnotic pull of the water. Then, his ears caught somethinga subtle rustling. Too late. His feet slipped, his balance faltered, and he plunged into the icy stream. Water filled his nose, his lungs, burning as he struggled to surface. As he gasped for air, the current carried him further downstream. He flailed, trying to stay afloat, but the river was relentless. Then he felt it. Teeth. Small, sharp, and many. "HELP!" His scream barely escaped before being cut short by the gagging water. Hundreds of razor-toothed fish swarmed, tearing into his bleeding leg. Flesh, muscle, and sinew shredded under the frenzied attack. His screams turned to gurgles. His eyes, wide with horror, stared into nothingness. Ten seconds. His leg was bone. Thirty seconds. His ribcage gaped open, organs spilling into the current. The frenzied fish feasted upon his heart, liver, lungs. One minute. Milo was no morejust a skeleton draped in tatters of flesh and fabric, suspended in the current like a forgotten relic. *** "Milo!" Ron called out again, his flashlight cutting through the darkness. Then he saw it. Milos raincoat, snagged on a branch. "Guys, I think I found him!" Nick and Gary rushed forward. But as their flashlights illuminated the scene, Rons breath hitched. The water wasnt splashing. It was bubbling. "That doesnt look like splashing," Gary murmured, squinting. "What is that?" Nick added, stepping closer. Then it clicked. "Oh shit! Those piranhas had a fucking feast," Gary breathed. Ron doubled over and vomited. "How how could this happen?" he gasped between heaves. "Because you left his ass, dummy," Nick spat. Gary put a hand on Rons shoulder. "Lets get the hell out of here." The men sprinted back to camp, bickering, fear thick in the air. But as they ran, somethinghidden in the junglewatched. And more eyes joined in the hunt. 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. Hows it going? Not dandy, thats 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 dont 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 nighttime forest vibrated all around them. While Nick waited to be connected to Richard, Gary and Ron had a quiet 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. What the hell did you see back there, Ron? Gary asked in a hushed voice. Rons face was still pale, his hands trembling slightly. II dont know, man. There was something, something behind the trees. Watching. I swear it was human but not quite. Gary frowned. Not quite? What do you mean? The way it moved. The way its eyes glowed. I dont know how to explain it, but Im telling you, were not alone out here. Nick, still impatient, snapped his fingers at Ron. Snap out of it, man. You sound like a damn lunatic. We need to focus on getting the hell out of here, not ghost stories. The phone crackled, and a deep, tired voice finally came through. This is Richard. What the hell is going on? Nick wasted no time. Your boy Milo is dead, Richard! Fucking piranhas ate him alive. Were stuck in this hellhole, and we need out now! There was a moment of silence. Jesus Christ, Richard muttered under his breath. Are you absolutely sure? We saw what was left of him, Rich. His coat was the only thing floating. The rest? Gone. Im not trying to stick around and be next. We need that pilot back, ASAP. Richard exhaled sharply. Listen to me. Get back to camp and stay put. Ill get in contact with Briscoe and have him fly back at first light. Just keep your heads together. Do notI repeat, do notwander off into the jungle. Nick scoffed. Yeah, no shit. Were not moving a goddamn inch until that chopper gets here. Richard hesitated before adding, And, Nick be careful. Theres something about that place I dont like. The line clicked off. Nick lowered the phone slowly, his face scrunched in irritation. Something about that place I dont like? Well, no shit, Richard! Gary turned to Ron. Alright, youre the one who saw something. What do you think were dealing with? Ron swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. I dont know but I got the feeling that whatever it was it was waiting. A rustling noise in the trees made all three men spin around, flashlights up, scanning the darkness. The jungle had gone eerily silent. No chirping insects, no hooting birds. Just the sound of their own breathing and the low, rustling whisper of leaves shifting in the night breeze. Nick tightened his grip on his flashlight. Lets get back to camp. Now. The three men moved as one, their pace quickening, senses on high alert. The jungle watched, and somewhere, in the thick shadows, something exhaled softlywaiting. Chapter 9 The night was heavy with unseen eyes. Somewhere deep in the rainforest, rhythmic drumming pulsed through the trees like an ancient heartbeat. The chants were guttural, raw, and layered with whispers that did not belong to the living. The ritual had begun again. Since the foreigners had arrived, the tribe had summoned their spirits each night, calling forth the unseen forces of the jungle. They burned sacred plants, inhaling the smoke that bridged the realms. Their bodies writhed in a trance, pupils wide as they glimpsed into the beyond. The forest itself listened. The trees leaned in, their branches curling like fingers, and the rivers whispered secrets beneath their rushing currents. Tonight, however, was different. Tonight, the spirits answered. Nick, Gary, and Ron huddled near the radio, their nerves frayed and their breath coming in shallow gasps. The jungle seemed closer now, the shadows moving when they werent looking. Richard here, came the voice over the radio. Nick grabbed the receiver, his knuckles white. Rich, get your ass down here now! We need a fucking extractionnow! A pause. Then a sigh. Nick, what the hell is going on? Milo is dead, goddamn it! He got eaten alive, torn to fucking pieces by piranhas! We are stranded in the middle of this godforsaken jungle, and I swear to God, if you dont get us out, Ill drag your ass into a lawsuit so deep you wont see daylight for a decade! Silence. Then Richards voice, slow and deliberate. Thats impossible. The contract was clear. You were supposed to be safe. Nicks rage exploded. Well, your contract didnt tell us about the goddamn river of death or the things watching us from the trees! Ron turned sharply, eyes wide. Wait what? Nick frowned. What the hell are you talking about? Rons breath hitched as he pointed toward the darkness beyond their camp. Were being watched. Gary and Nick followed his trembling finger. At first, there was nothingjust the endless black of the jungle. But then, they saw them. Eyes. Dozens of them. Slitted, unblinking, and intelligent. A crackling hiss cut through the night. Then came the roar, guttural and primal, shaking the ground beneath their feet. The jungle exhaled. Nick barely had time to react before Ron screamed, Run! A blur of golden muscle launched from the darkness. A jaguar, sleek and monstrous, its eyes reflecting the firelight, its teeth bared in the ecstatic anticipation of flesh. Nick didnt wait. He bolted, crashing through the undergrowth, his breath burning in his chest. He could hear Rons terrified panting just behind him. The predators footsteps were nearly silent, a ghost in pursuit. Ron veered left, Nick right. For a moment, it was unclear who the jaguar had chosen. Then, a cry. Nick glanced back just in time to see Ron trip over a gnarled root. The jaguar was on him in a second, knocking him onto his back with effortless power. The scream that left Rons lips was strangled with pure horror. Nick! Help! But Nick was already scrambling up a tree, his fingers clawing at the rough bark. His chest heaved, his heart a drumbeat of terror. He could still see Ron below, his arms raised in futile defense as the jaguars massive paws pinned him down. Then, the jungle fell silent. The cat did not kill. It only watched. It was waiting. A whisper drifted through the trees. Not from the men. Not from the beast. The jungle was awake. Gary slammed the radio, his hands shaking as static hissed back at him. Come in! This is a distress call! We need immediate evacuation! The frequency crackled, then a voicelow, rhythmic, and ancient. You should not have come here. Gary froze. What what did you say? The voice was layered, as though multiple mouths spoke at once. You take from the land. You steal from the spirits. Now, the forest takes from you. Gary swallowed hard, his eyes darting around the camp. Who is this? Laughter. Deep, resonant, and chilling. Then the radio went dead. A sudden gust of wind howled through the trees, and in the distance, the drumming grew louder. The ritual was reaching its climax. Gary turned, eyes wild. He saw the vines slithering along the ground like snakes. He saw the roots pulsing as if breathing. He saw the trees bending, whispering in voices that were not human. The jungle was moving. Nick clung to the tree, his breath coming in sharp bursts. Below, the jaguars golden eyes glowed like twin embers. It still hadnt attacked Ron. It only loomed over him, its tail flicking with eerie patience. Ron whimpered. Nick please A rustling came from the trees. Then, from the darkness, figures emerged. The tribe. Their skin was painted with the earth, their eyes dark pools of knowing. They moved as one, a shadow of limbs and breath, carrying with them the weight of countless generations. They formed a circle around the jaguar, around Ron, around the very air itself. The lead shaman stepped forward, his staff adorned with bones and feathers. He lifted his arms to the sky and spoke in a voice that was older than the trees themselves. The forest has chosen. Nick barely managed a whisper. Chosen for what? The shamans black eyes found him in the tree. For balance. With a single motion, he drove his staff into the earth. The jungle roared. The vines surged forward, wrapping around Rons arms, his legs, his throat. He gasped, his body convulsing as the forest dragged him into its depths. The trees moaned, the leaves shuddered, the ground trembled with an ancient hunger. Nick watched, helpless, as his friend disappeared into the earth. Then silence. The tribe turned as one, their gaze falling upon Nick. The shaman smiled. You will carry the message. Nick did not scream as the vines climbed his tree, tightening around his limbs. He did not fight as they caressed his skin, whispering secrets only the dead should hear. He only understood, too late, that the jungle does not forgive. It only takes. And takes. And takes. Back at the camp, Gary heard the final scream. The jungle swallowed it whole. Garys cigar glowed in the darkness, a lone ember in the vast jungle void. The thick rainforest air was damp, heavy with the scent of decay and life interwoven. He exhaled slowly, steadying himself. He had seen enough death to know when it was coming, and the jungle felt like it was waiting, watching. A crackle in the underbrush. Then silence. Garys grip tightened on the crude weapon in his hand. His eyes darted between the tangled vines and the trees looming like ancient sentinels. He knew that rushing forward without a plan was a death sentence, but staying still might be even worse. Nick! he called out again, his voice swallowed by the thick canopy above. No response. The jungle was playing tricks on him now. Every shadow shifted, every leaf seemed to whisper. He had spent years working in the wilderness, but this was different. This felt... alive. Then, a scream. High-pitched, raw, and choked with something Gary couldnt quite place. Fear? Pain? Both? It wasnt far. He took off running. Branches lashed at his face as he crashed through the undergrowth. He didnt know if he was chasing the scream or running from something worse. His boots sank into the wet earth, sucking at his feet with every desperate step. Then he saw it. Nicks tree. At its base, the jungle floor was disturbed, littered with broken twigs and gouged earth where somethingno, someonehad struggled. But Nick wasnt in the tree anymore. He was gone. Garys breath hitched as he swung his flashlight wildly. He saw movementlow to the ground, a slithering ripple through the foliage. Not a man. Not an animal. Something else. The jungle around him pulsed. The sounds of insects, the rustling leaves, even the distant riverthey were no longer background noise. They were part of something bigger, something breathing, something aware. A deep voice, guttural and inhuman, echoed through the trees. Gary turned, his light catching something grotesquea face, painted in streaks of blood and mud, eyes empty, staring at him through a curtain of vines. Then another. And another. The tribe. He had heard the rumors. The locals had warned them about the spirits, the guardians of the rainforest, the ones who would never let their land be taken. He had laughed then. But now, standing in the middle of their domain, he understood. This was not just land. It was alive. A rustling behind him. He spun, raising his weapon, but there was nothing. Only the jungle, shifting, waiting. The ground beneath him tremblednot an earthquake, but something deeper, something unnatural. It was as if the very roots of the forest were awakening, stretching, reaching for him. Then, the whispers. They slithered through the trees, in a language he couldnt understand, yet felt deep in his bones. The voices of the ancient, of the forgotten, of those who had died to protect this place. And now, they wanted more. Gary took a step back, but the earth held him firm. He tried to lift his foot, but vines coiled around his ankles, creeping up his legs like fingers pulling him down, deeper, into the heart of the jungle. He screamed, but the forest swallowed the sound. Gary's breath was ragged, his mind teetering between reality and something far darker. The chants, deep and rhythmic, pulsed in his ears like a second heartbeat. The scent of burning wood and strange herbs filled his nostrils, disorienting him further. His gaze remained fixed on the ancient tree before him, its gnarled roots twisting like the fingers of some forgotten god reaching through the soil. The jungle had swallowed the sounds of his surroundings, leaving only the insistent crackling of the fire and the chants that wove through the air. The dancerspainted in ash and ochremoved in a frenzied, trance-like rhythm. Their bodies twisted and bent unnaturally, their limbs contorting as if commanded by forces unseen. The spirits of the forest had awakened, and they were hungry. Meanwhile, Rons fate had already been sealed. His last conscious memory was the agonizing burn of countless tiny fangs sinking into his flesh. He had fought, screamed, begged the universe for mercy, but it had none to give. The ants did not care for prayers. They only cared for the harvest. His body twitched, but his spirit had already begun its journey, detached from the mortal shell now serving as sustenance for the queens brood. Above him, the jaguar sniffed at the disturbed soil. It could sense death, taste it in the air, but something kept it from claiming the body. Perhaps it was the spirits that had already staked their claim. Gary, still frozen before the massive tree, felt a sudden shift in the energy around him. The silence had deepened into something absolute, something unnatural. He realized too late that he could no longer hear his own breath. His limbs refused to move. The great tree before him seemed to pulsate, its bark writhing like living flesh. His vision blurred as the world twisted and stretched around him. A voiceno, many voiceswhispered from the leaves, the roots, the very air itself. *Blood nourishes the soil. The forest remembers.* Garys body shuddered involuntarily. The crackling sound grew louder, more insistent. His gaze drifted upward just as the massive branch above him gave way. There was no time to react. A sickening snap echoed through the jungle as the weight of the falling limb crushed him, pinning him to the roots below. Pain exploded through his spine, but it was fleeting. The breath left his lungs in a single, shuddering exhale. He did not inhale again. The jungle exhaled around him. The great trees roots coiled tighter, drawing him into its embrace. The spirits had claimed another. Nick, still clinging to his perch high above the jungle floor, had seen the jaguar abandon its pursuit and retreat into the darkness. His mind raced, struggling to comprehend the horror unfolding around him. He had heard Rons screams, then silence. He had seen Gary standing there, transfixed, only to be swallowed by the forest itself. Now, alone in the thick canopy, he realized the jungle was watching him. He was the last one left. A rustling below sent a fresh wave of terror through him. He gripped the branch tighter, willing himself to stay silent. But the jungle was alive. The leaves shifted, though there was no wind. Shadows moved where none should. The chants had stopped, but something worse had taken their placea deep, guttural growl that seemed to rise from the earth itself. The forest was awake. And it wanted him next. 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 Garys 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 Garys zone. It was the branch above him snapping and descending with full force. The rapid dissent in combination with the branchs mass crushed Garys back. It squeezed the life out of him