rfp23to26
rfp23to26.docx
The sun’s grip on the sky was loosening and the sunset ritual was just hours away. Mr.
Kratz had complete control over the navigation mission. The river was kind. They were
inside the deck where they had been protected all day from the burning spear, but it
didn’t protect them from the humidity. The sun’s decline gave a bit of relief. Jerry went
up to continue steering while Briscoe remained below. He would prefer to avoid Jerry’s
verbal ambush. Even so, he didn’t want to stare at a dead body most of the way. The odor
began to be noticeable, so he decided to join Jerry. “Hey Mr. I think you need to go check
on your friend.”
Jerry released the boat’s steering wheel and turned to face Briscoe. He replied
calmly, “What are you talking about?”
“Your friend in there is looking so creepy.”
“What? That’s my boss, not my friend.”
“Well at least cover him. I didn’t expect to look at a dead body all day.”
“Come outside and enjoy the beautiful view then. We’re coming about the second
island, and we’ll soon be there.”
“I didn’t want to come out here. It was more pleasant inside away from the sun. I
wish I would have advised you to let me off beforehand, but I see we’re already beyond
the first island. I’ll be glad to get off this boat to get away from you and your boss.”
“I needed your help, so you had to wait. We are almost finished, so it will be over
soon. How about you let me know where that third island Richard talked about is located.
I’ll go and check on Brutus.” Jerry carried a smirk on his faced as he walked away.
Brutus watched his exit, shook his head and turned to observe the view. “Hello! Mr.
Brutus, are you in here? Mr. Brutus, Mr. Salapore! Are you in here? Do you need
anything? Ha Ha!” Jerry was extremely amused and mocked his former employer with
crude sarcasm. He had even crept up close to the body and with a slick grin uttered,
“Hey! Can you hear me?” He pointed at the dead one and whispered, “Can you hear me?
Hey, tell me about how it feels to walk that tunnel of light those people always talking
about on unsolved mysteries. I suppose you can’t answer. That’s good, because I was
tired of your mouth. Jerry this, Jerry that, wee wee this, wee that, always crying about
something. You know what though, look who’s fucked now. And we are getting all that
money you tried to keep secret, and more for dropping your ass off.”
Captain Briscoe looked weary and shook his head in despair. He had noticed Jerry
leaned over the dead body in full conversation. The whole reason he joined them was he
thought Jerry was trying to speak to him. Briscoe asked softly, “Are you alright?” That
comment was an adjustment because he realized later Jerry wasn’t talking to him, but his
late boss. Briscoe even waited for a response.
“Oh, Oh, yes I’m OK. I just had a few things I hadn’t had the chance to tell him.”
“Oh, I didn’t know. It must be hard.”
“Yes, I worked with him for years.”
“Oh, so I am right. It must be hard. I see you two must have been close.”
“Close wasn’t the word!”
“Well! The word now is that the island is up ahead. So if you two can let each
other loose, then maybe, maybe, you can anchor the boat and speed this ordeal up. If you
didn’t notice, I want to go home. Just because you are used to boat rides all your life
doesn’t’ mean I’m close to even liking a boat.”
“I get it! It’s safer to fly helicopters than to sail, huh! I don’t think so!”
“At least when trouble occurs in a helicopter you can bail out in a parachute.
Where the hell are you going to bail out when the boat goes down? In the damn water to
drown.”
“No, you idiot! That’s why there’s life jackets and reserve boats.”
“That’s great! Life spared by a jacket only to be devoured by some sea dwelling
predator. I would rather be abandoned in the middle of no where on land than in the
middle of some huge body of water. No thanks!”
“I’m finished debating with nincompoops. Let’s get this show on the road.”
“Yeah whatever!” declared Jerry as if he had to have the last word. The two men
worked well together preparing the anchor. Everything was prepared except for their
exact plan. “You think we should scout a shore to find out exactly where we are taking
my boss.” Briscoe heard Jerry loud and clear, but instead of responding he walked
towards the point of the vessel. Jerry appeared curious as to his sail mate’s actions, but he
remained quiet and followed closely behind. “You know, I don’t see how there could be a
funeral home on this island, or anything that would be useful to old bossy.” Jerry spoke
with astonishment as he slightly shoved Briscoe aside for the best view. He scanned all
around and asked, “Are we in the wrong spot? What’s going on? I think this Richard guy
is funny. How long have you worked for this Richard guy anyway?” Jerry continued his
blabbering, not paying any attention to Briscoe. He was used to Briscoe’s non-responsive
attitude. “Look, do you see where you can fit a building on that piece of land. Ha! That’s
funny! Are you sure this is the third island. I don’t even see or hear any birds. All I hear
is something lurking in these waters.” That last comment Jerry spilled was just slightly
the truth, because he could hear various other sounds he seemed to be impervious to. The
next moment you could hear the sudden breeze you sometimes naturally get when on the
waters. The sounds of Jerry constantly changing his grip on the boat’s railing gave off a
distinctive harmony. This was from the boat’s fight with the currents, which gave off its
own sound.
Then came a loud, Bang! This sound was surely louder than all others before.
However, Jerry could not respond because a huge hole was in the back of his head. His
brain mucus spilled all over the place. Some had even splattered on Briscoe, but he
proceeded to shove the body overboard. He politely re-concealed his weapon and
marched towards the inner deck. He grabbed the late Brutus and dragged him about, only
to dump him overboard as well. Captain Briscoe immediately headed for the motorboat.
Releasing it briskly, he jumped aboard. The first attempt to turn over the motor was
unsuccessful, but after three or four tries everything seemed to be in line. He sped off,
and as he fled, you could see the reptiles and various other hungry river dwellers
devouring Brutus and Jerry.
Briscoe felt behind schedule and his desire to get up river became apparent. He
ran the motor full out. Passing the second island was just about complete. It wouldn’t be
long before he could ditch what he hated for what he loved. This had all brought back
vivid memories of Briscoe’s past, rushing his brain like an overdose of serotonin. Chills
broke out all over his skin when he remembered almost drowning, and it wasn’t because
he couldn’t swim. It was because his brother tormented him. They pushed him overboard.
He instantly recalled them terrorizing him with stories of lake beasts and creek monsters.
He had even flashed back briefly. The chants and praise rituals the tribes had performed
made the forest amplify all spiritual energies. And to them fear, anxiety, and panic were
all spiritual energies, but on the negative side of the spectrum. Briscoe could hear his
brother cry out, “Watch out, Scoe! Scoe!” There was a huge splash, and Briscoe found
himself treading water.
“Ha, Ha, Ha! What ya doing man?” exclaimed Joey.
Peter had reached for the string. “I’m just breaking his balls.” Peter pulled the
string as hard as he could.
“Yeah! Let’s scare the living shit out of him. Ha, ha!” Joey laughed on as he
watched Briscoe look like a pale ghost. The engine roared, and Peter jetted off. However,
he only moved the boat just out of Briscoe’s immediate range.
“Hey Scoe! You know that story Granddad used to tell us when we were your age
and he finally told you. Remember, about that lake monster. Yes, that monster I’ve seen.”
Peter screamed at the top of his lungs, “Oh my God, Scoe! No Scoe, No…Scoe, behind
you.”
Peter jetted off, but not before uttering. “It’s gonna get us!”
Briscoe dared not look back. He was too busy trying to tread water. That seemed
to be all he was doing, because he went no where. He screamed, “No, no, don’t leave me.
I can’t, I…please. You guys, help. Help!” He cried and cried and all of that energy kept
him from going anywhere. In fact, he began to lose the gracefulness in his treading, and
his actions became desperate. Then you couldn’t hear him cry anymore, only the sounds
of splashing and the gurgling of water.
Peter stopped the boat about 30 meters away. “Ha, ha. He’s scared out of his ass,
holy shit. Ha, ha!” Peter just gazed at his little brother scampering for air.
Standing there momentarily before calling out, “Don’t let it get you! Come on,
pussy, come on… swim! Swim, you pussy. Damn, look at his ass. He’s fucking freezing
up. Swim! Swim! Dumb shit.”
Peter looked on, but Joey’s humor had run out. “Hey Pete, man… I don’t know? I
think he’s having trouble, man. I think we better get him.”
“Wait let him sweat a little. We are not gonna let him drown, cool it. I told you he
needs a little toughing up.” Joey took no chance by shoving Pete out the way and turned
the boat to get Briscoe. Pete had a cruel chuckle, but he didn’t object to Joey’s rescue
mission.
“Eeeek! What is that on his arms and neck? My goodness,” cried Roy grossly, and
it got everyone’s attention.
“That’s where these flies laid their eggs. We had to pick them all out,” said Pam
gently.
“Oh no, that’s gross,” declared the professor.
“Is he asleep?” wondered Wesley.
“I think the itching got so severe he passed out. That’s why I say that I’m not sure
if all of this is attributed to this fly. Maybe he’s been in contact with something else as
well. He needs to go to the hospital, and by the way, have you run into the Pilots? No!
obviously not.” Pam noticed that fact as she just now had a chance to look up at the crew.
The task of caring for Adam and Kyser was daunting. She had noticed that they weren’t
alone, but she was more interested in getting them treatment. “Damn, we need to be
leaving. Don’t forget about Adam over here. I don’t know if he’ll die, or not. He passes
in and out. I don’t know if any of these things are contagious, or if even…”
“Hey, calm down Pam! We will get out of here.” Klinton grabbed her to get her
attention. “Look, Pam they’re going to be alright, and we will be OK too.” Klinton spoke
sharply and really believed in what he saying, and obviously Pam did to.
She had finally calmed down when Wesley shouted, “Now where’s Richard!? I
have a few words for him. I might just kick his ass.” Wesley went searching for Richard
and Klinton followed. Roy hesitated for a moment.
“Hey, I think we need to try and communicate with her,” advised the professor.
“How so,” exclaimed Roy? He was skeptical, but he was curious as well. “So it is
true. You and Richard have ulterior motives. You were brought here to convince people
of this project’s merit, people like what we have here.” He pointed at the tribal woman
and tried to continue his speech, but he was interrupted by Julian’s defense.
“Wait just a minute! I’m not a part of any secret plans or conspiracies. I just got a
call from a friend and told him I’ll do the favor he asked. I really had no idea.”
“OK. Just do your job, whatever it is you specialize in.”
The professor turned his head violently, but slow and smooth as he reached for
some scraps he was eating on. He took those very scraps and tried to offer it to the
woman. “Food! Food,” said Julian! There was no response. She didn’t even accept the
food. His next attempt was the offering of water. “Water! Water!” Julian’s hands acted as
allies in their movements towards the woman. The point of those gestures was to explain
himself other than verbally, but he also wanted to assure her that he wouldn’t hurt her.
Amazingly, she accepted the water.
“Bali, Bali,” shouted the woman! She drank the water carefully. A few moments
later it was obvious that she was thirsty. The professor then continued his hand gestures
of offerings and repeated her words. “Bali! Bali!” He shook his head up and down. “Roy,
hand me a lighter along with that metallic alcohol container. They made the item transfer
and Julian quickly lit the lighter. The woman jumped back in fright. “Fire, Fire!”
exclaimed Julian.
She softly responded, “Cemi, Cemi!” Roy sipped away while he watched Julian
stuff something edible in his mouth. “Eat, eat! Eat, eat!” said Julian.
There seemed to be a slight grin on the woman’s face. She began to chant, “Call,
call!” She belched a slight chuckle and surprisingly ate some of the food that was offered
to her.
“You’re doing great,” exclaimed Pam gently.
Julian was proud to hear that, for he was dying for a little love. He even felt
sympathy for the woman. That wasn’t easy, but the more he tried, the more he grew to
care. Pam naturally cared for people, so the feeling Julian was having was slightly
different. Nevertheless, like a good professor, he worked industriously to try to
understand the woman’s words and then interpret them.
Klinton Westfield and Wesley Zimmerman worked assiduously to find Richard
Dickinson. They were not yet successful, and that fact expanded their desire. The two
didn’t get along, but that was obscured by their common goal — pursuit of Richard. The
light began to fade. The sunset ritual was already beginning and the chants and praises
were on. The souls from the recently deceased lingered about the forest mist. They gave
extra strength to the mystical force that the chants and praises brewed up. This type of
bonding was unknown to the civilized. Neither of these gentlemen took the possibility of
ghosts seriously, but were these ghosts? It probably was something a little more complex,
but no one new. Except for the tribe and the spirits. They knew, but the strange thing was
that the forest knew too. You could now add Jerry and Brutus to that list. They all now
understood what was going on. All the pain and suffering assured that it was already too
late. The mystics had begun nights before, and their efforts would persist until all
intruders were banished. One of the tribe’s beliefs was, if the weak are to be eaten in
order for the strong to survive, then let it be. It was their explanation for why God
allowed smaller animals to be preyed upon. Their feelings were so that it excluded them
from any wrong doings, if and only if, it was an act of survival and your life absolutely
depended upon it. This way of thinking correlated with a murder charge being dropped
because of self-defense. In a sense, the aboriginals had a case, which is why they had no
remorse for initiating such an evil spell. Once engaged, they knew even they wouldn’t be
safe, but that wasn’t of concern. The spell was meant for the wicked. Most indigenous
people have clean and caring hearts. They were just misunderstood, just as their ways of
life were disregarded. Every piece of earth is not for big buildings and for doing business.
Some areas are made just for freedom and natural rhythm. Materials synthesized by man
such as concrete and steel don’t mesh with the environment. The ancients feared
Richard’s plan was to synthesize the area they called home. Many other living things
called this place home as well, including the trees and various other plant life, and the
tribe called for the protection of all living creatures, especially the trees. Why wouldn’t
they? The trees protected them from everything else. However, nothing would protect
Richard from the pursuit of Wesley and Klinton.
But as of this moment, they couldn’t find him. After they made a big circle, they
met back up empty handed. “No sign of him,” cried Klinton with a gasp of a short
winded sprinter.
“I didn’t see him either. Where could have that fucker gone?” They pondered for
just a moment, but decided quickly to head back to camp.
CHAPTER 24
The sound of a small motor being annihilated echoed across the Amazon. There were
also the splashes from feet dashing about shoreline in haste. Briscoe was now ashore and
had no plans to abandon the helicopter that was there. He hurried because it was getting
dark, which might interfere with his ulterior motives. Because he had been here longer
than the rest, the edge of added experience, he was able to gather the severity of the
ominous events that had been occurring.
He moved briskly across the island. This pursuit was where most of his senses
concentrated on. His thought patterns were irregular, and also acted as a barrier to the
sounds around him. Nevertheless, his sense of sight remained keen despite the coming
darkness. The only aspect in his favor was the heat subsiding. However, that was reduced
from his tremendous efforts to get to the helicopter, and he sweated and gasped from
exhaustion. He released a huge grunt as he leapt aboard what he loved. It was sitting
undisturbed where he left it a day ago. The doors had been left open leaving a distinct
odor from the dried rain. That didn’t stop Briscoe from starting his escape module. In
fact, when the engines roared, there seemed to be no problems. However, the fuel gauges
were near empty. “Damn,” exclaimed Briscoe as he stroked different instruments. The
command for flight was given and up he went. There was no way he could go where he
originally intended, at least not until he refueled. It would be just a minor delay because
the tower was not far.
“Pam, Pam! How is Kyser?” Wesley shouted loudly as they approached camp. He
was indeed heard, but ignored. Pam and company had their own problems. “Hey! Hello!
Have you seen that Richard?” shouted Wesley extremely loudly. He wanted to continue
his loud antics until someone acknowledged hearing him, at least someone other than
Klinton Westfield, but he failed. He would have to wait until eyesight was possible
before any acknowledgements. When that did occur, Klinton and Wesley found Pam,
Roy, and Julian interrogating the captured woman.
Julian waved his hand and fingers and softly said, “Gentlemen, gentlemen! You
are just in time. I think we are progressing just fine here.”
“Oh! How so?” Wesley asked. His loud tone even frightened the captured woman.
“Shhh! Sit down and listen,” cried Pam.
Everyone took heed and listened to Julian’s translation attempts. “Aakeichi,
aakeichi,” cried the woman. It sounded as if she was afraid, not from her captivity, but
from just speaking it. “Aakeichi, aakeichi,” she cried again in the same disdainful
manner.
The professor decides to repeat her, “Aakeichi, aakeichi.” He posed a calculating
look. The others were dumbfounded.
“Bali, Bali!” The woman cried.
“Bali! Bali!” The professor handed her some water and she drank appreciatively.
The professor had already learned some of their basic words while Klinton and Wesley
were on their escapade. Earlier, he had pointed at the sun descending, and she then called
out what they acknowledged as the sun. Then he pointed at the sky in the same way. He
wanted to get a feel for how they communicate. This helped, but it didn’t say what
Aakeichi represented. “Aakeichi,” declared Julian. He prepared a spot on the ground,
hoping she would understand to draw her meaning of Aakeichi. “Aakechi”, he said again
while brushing his hands across the spot again.
There wasn’t a response except for Wesley’s ignorance. “This shit is no use!”
Deep down inside the professor feared he was correct, because it was hard to
communicate with someone who has no written alphabet. If they did have one, she did
nothing to indicate so. He tried another tack. “Ohun-er, Aakeichi,” said Julian.
She replied to Julian’s remarks by first repeating. “Ohun-er, Aakeichi.” Julian
shook his head, hoping she would clarify. “Kha, Llic Belami a bibi Covo!” she cried with
terror all over her face. Julian’s next move caused her to jump. Her legs were shaking and
fear consumed her.
“What, the fuck did she say?” Everyone else looked at each other.
“I’m not sure! She said something about spirits and trees. Or, maybe wind, and
ah, ummm… she did say something about evil and alive.” The professor gripped his
beard and pondered for a moment. He left his crew abandoned in curiosity. A worried
look crossed his face. “I think she’s saying the spirit of the forest is alive.” He listened to
the woman ramble on, translating it accordingly. “She said an ancient curse has been
lifted, I think. Or maybe cast, making the forest eat wicked spirits.”
“What the fuck? Hold on now. I know you don’t expect us to believe that shit,
right?!” yelled Wesley. This outraged him.
Julian continued his translation efforts. “I think she’s saying the forest will
become an intelligent conscious entity to defend the inhabitants. We are not inhabitants.”
“That’s bullshit. I can’t believe this.”
“Wait a minute Wesley. You should hear them out,” replied Klinton.
He tried to grab Wesley’s arm, but Wesley jerked away bawling, “That’s
ridiculous bullshit!” He pulled out his piece and cocked it back. “Fine, you all wanna stay
here and listen to this bullshit while our population dwindles? You know what I translate
from all this bullshit? I translate that these fucks a reusing a lame excuse to try and drive
us way, so they resort to murder. I’m gonna catch me another one of those bastards and
see what it has to say. I hope one resists because I always considered myself a cowboy.
I’m a gonna hunt me an Indian. That’s what they are, savages like their ancestors.”
“Hey man! Watch your mouth.” Wesley ran off in search of something to release
his frustration on. Klinton watched his departure and for some reason felt compelled to
follow. “Let the mother fucker run off and be a hero,” replied Klinton. The rest of the
crew settled down to figure at what should be done next.
Roy Beavers usually never drank, but he stood over the unwillingly asleep Kyser.
He tilted flask of liquor and chugged away. “Damn, you look like shit, Kyser.” He
continued to stare at Kyser, and then at Adam. His alcohol levels rose and his stares got
more hypnotic.
The professor, meanwhile, tried hard to learn more about the woman. The crew
was unaware of it, but now understanding her became an obsession. This was fuel by him
feeling the way he wasn’t used too.
Pam had asked Klinton simply, “Do you believe what the professor is saying?”
“Yes, I don’t think he would be lying.”
“No, of course not. I know the professor is sincere in his work, but I just think…
maybe he’s not accurate. I mean, can he really understand her this quickly and under this
kind of stress?”
“Well Pam! What else is causing the melee?” Pam looked at Klinton and begged
inside for comforting. She began to wonder how they would get home. She, however,
didn’t have to wonder about wanting to test the tribe’s teachings.
Awakened by roaring helicopter blades, Edward Pullins lifted himself up to wipe
the drool from his mouth. He had been dreaming after he fell asleep. The excitement
caused him to roll over and observe the helicopter. It was obviously landing, but who and
why remained to be seen. As the helicopter began to land, Edward darted toward a bush
to conceal himself. He peeked about, wondering if he was finally saved and could now
get on with his investigation. When the helicopter landed, Edward noticed a single man
jump out with apparent haste. This intrigued Edward. He watched more closely, making
sure nothing went unseen. He also wanted to make sure he wasn’t seen.
Briscoe looked around. There was nothing but refueling on his mind. He looked
over towards Edward before noticing one key factor was missing — the mobile gas
vehicle was needed. He turned his head away from Edward’s direction and looked
directly at the truck. This change of direction forced Edward to adjust his position so he
could remain unseen. Briscoe retrieved the vehicle and headed towards the helicopter.
Edward Pullins began to creep at three quarters of a sprint directly behind the slowly
moving gas truck. Briscoe positioned the truck so that it would be a quick attachment.
Edward adjusted himself behind the truck so he wouldn’t be seen. Briscoe began fueling
the truck the whole while thinking of his plan, and how the slow pump was not helping.
Then Captain Briscoe put his hands high in the air after feeling hard steel digging
at his back. “Where are we in a hurry to get?” Edward searched his pockets and other
concealed compartments. “Oh! What’s this, you need one of these. You haven’t used this,
have you? It’s quite warm. Turn around!” Edward jerked Briscoe around and demanded
roughly, “Where is Richard Dickenson?” Briscoe didn’t respond, but looked foolish. “Oh
you can’t talk,” shouted Edward calmly with the steel piece reinforced to the front of
Briscoe’s head with more pressure, which turned that foolish look into one of anguish.
“Where’s Richard?” A moment drifted by. “Oh, I see. You think someone would find
you if I took your helicopter and threw you in the river. Oh, after leaving a bullet in your
head.” Edward tightened his hold on Briscoe. “You know what?” he said calmly. Edward
turned Briscoe back around forcing the gun hard up against his back. “I don’t think I need
you. I can fly this baby myself.” Edward bluffed like poker player. He forced Briscoe
towards the river, acting as if this was the end for the captain. Edward played with the
trigger to try and scare the captain. They were just about near the river and Edward again
pulled the gun up towards his head. Briscoe began to sweat furiously down his face.
Then Briscoe screamed out. “OK! Ok! What do you want?”
Edward shoved him back around towards the helicopter and replied, “Let’s go!
Take me to Richard’s little project.” Briscoe said nothing else. He just walked forward as
commanded, compelled to obey Edward. In fact, detective Pullins could be very
convincing when he used force. This was apparent because Briscoe appeared convinced,
and the two men were on their way.
A fierce fire burned inside of Wesley as he gazed about the forest. It wasn’t clear
as to what he was in pursuit of, but he had made it already clear Richard or any tribesman
better not come his way. The problem was there were more eyes than just Richard’s or
some tribe’s people. All the eyes were hard to see because it was dark. However, some
had sudden glows about them like the owls that stood in the tree above him. He noticed
them because he had stopped his pursuit for a moment only to scan his potential
pathways. Even though he seemed to be looking around very hard, he still paid no
attention to the many eyes that watched him. Wesley scanned for the area for his prey,
but darkness overwhelmed his sight. He did see trees, but they were too creepy to dare
stare at them too long. Each one looked as if something lived in it, around it, and on top
of it. They all were huge and blocked his view.
He gazed upon one steadily and then had what he thought was a gut instinct. He
darted through a familiar path, eagerness boiling in his blood. He cocked back his grip
and leapt over would be blockage, letting nothing stop him. His sweat poured even
though the sun had set. The humidity remained like the ever present air latching to one’s
skin like sticky film. Up ahead, he noticed a medium-build slender man standing, looking
at the useless helicopters. He decided to sneak up behind the man. When he realized it
was Richard, Wesley lunged at him as if making a goal-line tackle. Richard’s face skid in
the mud with Wesley on top of him, “You fucking sleaze ball. All this shit has been
going on, and you don’t know shit. Well, we now know that to be a lie, and I’m going to
kick your ass.” Wesley yelled at Richard while turning him around for eye contact. He
also followed with a shoving of Richard’s head into the ground. “I’ll teach people like
you. Think you got all the money and can do what you want?” His anger was let out not
only by yells, but also by severe punches administered to Richard’s face. Wesley
manhandled Richard and treated him like scum. The next punch to the face burst it wide
open. Richard’s blood began to drip down his face. Wesley was upset he was stranded,
and it was all because of him. He began to lift his right hand to kick off the next round of
punishing blows. He decided to choke him for a moment, almost zoning out. He barely
noticed the helicopter that circled above them, but ultimately it was the reason his
gripped loosened from around Richard’s neck.
The gun still posed a threat. So Briscoe tried to calmly place the helicopter down.
“If I put it down here it may get stuck like the rest.”
“I don’t give a damn. Land the helicopter somewhere.”
Briscoe commanded the helicopter to land, but the blades were mysteriously
caught in a branch. It appeared that the tree reached out and grabbed the blade causing
the helicopter to swirl out of control. The helicopter became unsteady and leaned to the
left side, “Oh, oh,” shouted the men as their body weight was thrown with the
helicopter’s tilt. They crashed into a tree.
“Damn!” shouted Edward. Briscoe slid barley holding on to his seat. His feet
dangled outside the helicopter’s door. He could hold on no longer and plummeted out of
the tree. The impact caused a broken ankle and a few bruised ribs. The roots of the tree
bulged above the earth abnormally, causing him to land awkwardly, and he lay there in
severe pain. Edward managed to climb himself onto his seat. “Damn, how in the hell did
I get myself into this shit!” He looked down at the injured Briscoe wondering how he
could avoid the same fate. He carefully climbed out into the tree. He managed this
through the other door. He needed all his strength, and luckily for him he was not
depleted from the long treacherous stay in the rainforest. He remained safe in the tree, but
the trees let the plane fall to the ground, which came crashing down atop Briscoe, cursing
him and concealing his true agony by exploding heavily. Edward could feel the intense
heat from up in the tree.
The sound of the explosion ironically is what saved Richard, because he was on
his last breath. “What the fuck,” exclaimed Wesley while letting loose of Richard’s
throat. He headed for the explosion. “Hey! What the hell is going on,” yelled Wesley.
“Stranger! Can you help me out of this tree first?”
Wesley looked at the explosion and maneuvered around the flames to help
Edward. “So what the hell happened?”
“The helicopter’s blade was caught.”
“Was anybody else with you?”
“Yes, but he’s dead.”
“Who is he?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know? Who are you?”
“I’m detective Edward Pullins! Who are you?”
Wesley gazed at the badge being presented and hesitated before responding. “I’m
Agent Wesley Zimmerman with the FBI”
“Oh shit. The FBI. What are you doing involved in this case?”
“Case! What case? No! I think you got it all wrong. We were hired by Richard.”
“Oh, funny.”
“Funny! What’s funny,” exclaimed Wesley? He began to get frustrated so he
talked louder. “Why are you here?”
“I’m here to arrest Richard. I’ve been investigating him in the disappearance of
Joe Geshy and apparently a few other people. Have you seen any of them?”
“Oh boy! I think I’ve seen a couple of them, but that Joe guy was a dead body we
came across a day ago. Goddamn, I just let Richard loose. I had to give him a
pulverizing, but if I knew he was a fugitive, like I thought he was, I probably would have
choked him out. Let’s go.” Wesley led the way in the pursuit of Richard. Edward
followed closely behind.
“Damn, it’s getting too dark to see in this damn jungle. It seems you know your
way around a little.”
“Yeah we’ve been here a while, and it seems like forever.”
“This muggy climate, I don’t know how you all could have stand it.”
“Look! Did you come here to catch a criminal or complain about how hot it is?”
“Yes, your correct, but damn. Are we snappy?” The two trotted on their way not
paying attention to what could be watching them.
Pam watched over the sick. Roy got drunk, and the professor courted the tribal
woman. “Will you leave that damn girl alone? I think she’s a little annoyed,” replied
Klinton.
Roy concurred in a drunken voice. “Yeah! What are you trying to do?”
“I’m just trying to get information out of her.”
“Well, you being all over her like that makes me wonder what type of information
you are seeking.”
Kyser was now conscience and managed to get up. “Oohhh, damn. I’m still
itching.” Kyser tripped and falls as his eyesight seemed affected as well.
“Watch where you’re going!”
“Sorry, sorry. Where’s everyone? Just because I’m hurting right now doesn’t
mean you get drunk on the job. Roy! Damn!” Kyser scratched in rage, just like he did
with his commands. “Pam! How’s Adam?”
“He’s not doing well.”
“Where are Briscoe and Jerry? Aren’t they back yet? What about the pilots? No
one has found them? Where’s Richard? What’s going on? Haven’t you done any work?
Do you guys want to get home, damn it. I do. So maybe a doctor can give me something
for this terrible itch. Why is everybody looking at me that way? Don’t look, answer me.”
“Kyser! Kyser! Calm down. You’ve been out for a while.”
“Out! What!”
“Look, remember we had to dig larva out of your skin.”
“Oh shit, I forgot. That’s right, I’ve been infected by some fucking flies. We need
to be getting out of here, and finding a way fast. What the… What do we have here?
Where did you get her from?” Kyser was surprised, and for a moment it made his itching
go away.
“Wesley and I encountered her in the woods. Yeah, your Richard guy has been
exposed.”
“Oh, how so? Let the boss in on an update.” Kyser walked over towards her and
the professor and stood directly over them. “So Julian, you seem pretty close to her. What
have you communicated with her about?”
“Well sir, she says something about the forest being alive, and we are forbidden to
be here.”
“Where’s Wesley?”
“He ran off to find Richard.”
“Why do I get the sense he wanted Richard pretty badly? What has Richard
done?”
“Well you know he has been slight less than honest, as you can see, withholding
information about these tribes. They’re the ones who have been attacking us.”
“How can you be sure of that?” exclaimed Julian.
“Oh! I forgot you said that the spirit of the forest has come to get us.”
“Shhh!” declared Kyser. He had heard something, and everyone’s attention was
placed upon the entrance. They watched Richard stumble in. “What’s wrong Richard?”
Kyser said while picking him up. “Richard! Everyone is saying you are withholding vital
information. Do you know why?” Richard looked up at Kyser while taking full advantage
of the support Kyser gave him.
He responded ruggedly, like the battered and bruised man he was. “I don’t know
what they are talking about.”
“What about this woman here? Everyone says you knew about these people.”
“Look! All I knew was what Julian told me.” Everyone now turned their attention
to the professor as if he had better explain himself.
“Hey! All I told him was that there could be tribes living in this area. I also said
they could be territorial, but we have no evidence of that.”
“Well, if you have not been here before, I don’t think you should expect to have
any evidence. Has there been evidence the last couple of days we’ve been here?”
“Maybe, but it’s hard to say. If they are responsible for the deaths then I would
say that’s evidence. Richard! Who beat your face up like this?”
“Wesley… Wesley did this.”
At that moment, Wesley and Edward had arrived. “Wesley! What is going on?
Why did you assault Richard? Who is that?”
Edward Pullins and Wesley Zimmerman ignored Kyser’s questions, but Wesley
whispered to Edward. “There’s Richard!” Edward walked toward Richard and Kyser.
“Richard Dickenson! You are under arrest for obstruction of justice and
interfering with a police investigation.”
“What! What are you talking about? What investigation. I’m not part of any
investigation.”
“The investigation of Joe Geshy’s disappearance.”
“Wait a minute?” Kyser exclaimed. He stopped Edward in his actions. “What the
hell is going on, Richard? You told me you didn’t know whose body that was we
discovered. My guess is one of them is probably this Joe Geshy.” Kyser watched and
waited for a response, but Edward wasn’t interested and continued detaining Richard.
“Hold on! Mr…. What did you say your name was?”
“Detective Edward Pullins!”
“Well Detective Pullins, FBI holds jurisdiction in this matter.”
“How is that so?”
“We’ve been hired by Richard for security reasons such as this.”
“Well excuse me Mr… What did you say your name was? Oh, Mr. FBI man. I’m
here on official police business, and it seems your business is unofficial. As far as I’m
concerned you are working for a criminal. I don’t think FBI agents are supposed to be
working with criminals.”
“Wait a minute. What are you trying to say? Look, there are four FBI agents to
your one detective — who do you say is better suited to say who is in charge here?”
“I don’t give a damn. I’m here to arrest him and bring him to justice for crimes in
his hometown. What has he done to you all here? Has he broken any laws?”
“Nothing!”
“Well then! I think you have no need for him.”
“OK, but the handcuffs are a little extreme. There’s nowhere to run anyhow. Shit,
we all need to find out how in the hell we’re getting home. Once we are back, then you
can do what you will to this lying scum bag.” Edward was heated. He wanted to cuff him
and get his prize back home, but there wasn’t a way home yet!
“We’ll camp out here tonight. Tomorrow we’ll try to get that boat. Everyone go to
your tents and get a good night’s sleep. You’re going to need your energy.” That’s
exactly what everybody did.
The sky grew dark and the rain began to fall. It was slightly heavy, but fluctuated
to a drizzle at times, just as everyone fell asleep fast like the night before. The rain acted
like music to their dreams. The first to take note was Richard Dickenson. Someone was
as dragging him against his will to some unknown place. As he fell deeper asleep the
rhythmic raindrops translated into deep heartbeats, which contributed to his agony. The
uncertainty of where he was going was also key to his turmoil, and it all seemed so real.
He could hear primitive music, drums and simple stringed instruments. They were played
and orchestrated by some unknown source. The darkness helped this source remain
concealed, but because of the mysticism that might not even matter. His curiosity as to
this source grew when he could hear the addition of chants and praises. It felt real to him,
and also to the rest of the crew as they lay deeply asleep. One thing was for certain, the
tribes didn’t offer any hospitality. To them, their spells were real. The wicked would
perish and tribe’s homes would be saved. They feared this intrusion would be an ongoing
thing so the ceremony had to be performed, permanently awakening the soul of the
rainforest. Richard’s precious project was now becoming someone else’s project. They
both brewed evil and would inevitably collide with one another. The jealousy and rage in
Richard’s heart from not succeeding would probably result in the sabotage of anyone
else’s success. This angry soul would be cursed to remain in this very rainforest, and his
very ways of evil and envy would be used to protect the tribe from future entrepreneurs.
The chants and praises continued, growing more intense proportionately to the crew’s
deepening dream state.
“Oh dear,” cried Pam. A beautiful baby flashed before her eyes and she wept in
sorrow. “Come here, bookie. Come here. How is that little boo doing, yeah!” Pam
reached out for her, but she could not touch the baby. She couldn’t move forward, only
wave her arms around in the same space she seemed to float about within. It agonized
her, not being able to advance and hold the little girl. She seemed so precious and
innocent. “Oh no! Stop!” Pam yelled. A painted faced man holding a spear grabbed the
little one and stared Pam in the eyes. It was a horrifying experience for Pam. It brought
tears to her eyes just to watch those other eyes, especially the red paint that outlined
them. The baby seemed fine and continued smiling. The tribal man ran off with the little
one, and Pam could no longer see them. Darkness was all that remained in her view. It
caused her tears to pour harder.
In fact, they fell until they overflowed Klinton’s tent. He began treading water. A
stream now seemed to carry him. “Oh shit! Klinton screamed at the top of his lungs. He
didn’t know what was happening. “Oh shit! Someone help. Help!” He cried loudly, but it
seemed no one could hear his cries. He was trying hard not to be taken under by the
strong currents, but he noticed a boat caught between two trees. It was about to be jarred
loose by the currents, but he made a quick swim for it, hoping the current would be kind.
“Come on. Come on,” cried Julian Akbar. He grabbed the hands of the tribal
woman and recited something that probably meant, “Ill set you free.” An intense dream
suddenly gave him the urge to wake up. She was curious as to why he was letting her go,
but she gave no resistance and walked out into the rainy jungle with the professor. The
professor spoke English to her the entire way. He felt he was through communicating
with her. “Hey, sweety, you know I love you. I never had anyone like you.” The
professor stopped in a spot near a tree and grabbed the woman. It continued to rain, and
seemed to get heavier. “You know I wouldn’t mind. Come here, sweety!” You could hear
smacks from Julian kissing the naked woman. She pulled back, but Julian forced himself
on her. He Kissed, sucked, and caressed her sagging breasts. He wasted no time in
slipping between the woman’s legs with slight force. “Come on, baby I’ve never been
this close. I wanna love someone.” He forcefully shoved her legs outward and prepared
his sacks to be dropped. He began to kiss out of control, and slobbering like it was his
first time eating a mango. It was just that delicious to Julian and he subsequently
penetrated her. “Oohhh, ooohh,” he screeched in excitement. Then he went wild inside
the woman. He was unable to control this rare feeling he was experiencing. You could
hear nothing but cries from the lady and grunts and moans from Julian. The heavy rain
was the last dominant sound. It began to pour even harder, hiding the massive sweat
Julian administered. The rain didn’t matter to him, because he continued to molest the
lady. It rained so hard no one could hear her cries. The eyes that once watched probably
wouldn’t be returning anytime soon. “Oh baby, oh baby, oooh, oooh, ugg!” Julian
groaned unimaginable sounds after climaxing inside the indigenous woman. His entire
body relaxed, muscles loosened until there was no more force to hold her. This rush and
excitement drained him. This became more apparent when he yelled, “Wait! Wait a
minute! Don’t run!” The professor tried hard to hold her with his hands, but that was not
enough. After she got a significant lead, he finally got up to chase her. “Come here, lady!
Where are you going?” As he chased his obliged mate the spirits of the jungle roared in
disgrace. One of the intruders had violated one who lived here, but it was too late.
“Sweety, sweety! Where are you? I told you I love you.” The professor continued to
plead in his own language. He sometimes got frustrated when trying to communicate with
her, so he pretended she understood. Just like pretending the intercourse was consensual.
“Dear! Come here! Just hold on. I’ll find you.”
The professor’s clothes and body were soaked. He ran fast, deep in the mist of the
rainy jungle. His heart made it impossible to tell how far he ventured off from camp.
There was no concern, however, only for the loved one he was in pursuit of. He could not
see ahead of him because of the darkness and rain. At the current moment that rain
poured so hard it stung as it hit his skin. It was definitely going to flood if the rain
continued at its current pace. This didn’t stop the professor from continuing after the one
he loved. “Sweety, is that you? Come out, I can’t see you.” He sharpened his eyes after
wiping the downpour from his face. The view now was for a moment clearer, and he saw
something that frightened him. “Ahhg! screamed Julian, as loud as the pouring rain
would let him. He stared eye to eye with several naked men with painted faces and spears
gripped tightly. They appeared unaffected by the serious rain, but they did seem
concerned with the professor. He began taking steps backward, and the fear apparently
momentarily changed his views about catching up with his loved one. As he continued to
step backward he realized these mysterious men surrounded him. “Oh please, don’t hurt
me. I’ve done nothing. Please let me go.” Cries spilled loudly from Julian’s mouth, but
tribesmen had no empathy for tears. They were undistinguishable anyhow. “Oh no! Let
me go, please. Where are you taking me?” The men forced Julian into the deep expanses
of the jungle. “You better let me go!” He tried to sound like his old high school bully, but
these men knew nothing of such words. “Where are you taking me? Please, I didn’t mean
to — she was so beautiful. I never had a woman, and I love her.” The professor’s pleas
were useless because they continued to take him deep into their territory.
They proceeded to tie the professor to a huge tree that was sort of isolated from
the rest. It was humongous, and amazingly, they had his loved one tied to the other side
of the tree. “Oh, dear! What are you doing here? Oh what is going on, baby? Won’t you
talk to them or something?” The professor cried aloud and wore the look of peasantry
with his soaked face and clothes. However, they soon stripped him of his garments, and
they both were now naked.
Panic caused him to think back into his studies. He wondered what was going on.
They began chanting and praising around this tree they had been tied to. The professor
thought, “It must be some type of ritual, but of what? He wondered if some saw him
making love. He had no clue that conception was obtained and they now had to be
included in this ceremony. “Don’t you worry, dear. I’ll get you out of this.” He struggled
to free himself, but the material that held him was too strong. He screamed out. It echoed
about the entire jungle. The naked men danced around the tree, unphased by the rain and
mud. They chanted and praised to the sounds of primitive drums. The two captives were
nearly passed out from dehydration. The chants got louder and the spirits screamed with
anger.
Pam heard that loud scream, but she was deep asleep. The sound of roaring
vibrated the ground. It was loud because it mixed with the recent arrival of lightning and
thunder. The rain even became heavier and began to eat away at the soil. The crew’s deep
sleep made them unaware of the threat this downpour posed. The sunset ritual was
previously performed and the guest for the ceremony was finally in place.
An eerie setting loomed over camp while the crew dreamed. It intensified with
their sleep as did the rituals and chanting. Klinton Westfield’s next exhale sounded of
loud gargles. “Augg Augg, cough.” Klinton awakened with face full of water. He sat up.
There splashes and he floundered in water. “What the fuck!” He noticed it had flooded in
his tent. A huge roar came from the ground as the trees and their deeply imbedded roots
began moving beneath. It caused the soil to give way. A thunderous roar sounded and the
roots began to uplift. The roots roared themselves through the entire campsite, ripping
everything apart. “Oh shit what the fuck is going on…? Hey, help! What’s wrong? Kyser,
Pam, Wesley. Hello” Shouts came from all directions because the crew was in turmoil.
The trees and their roots had made a huge hole in their camp. The tents were uplifted and
thrown in the air. Pam’s tent was tossed in one direction, while Kyser’s and Roy’s tents
flew in opposite directions. The main camp were Adam lie sank in the hole the roots dug
up. The heavy rain began to instantly flood the immediate area. The crew was separated
instantly and was unaware of their new locations. They awakened after the ruckus, and by
that time it was too late. They had already been thrown in their own separate directions. It
was ominous and seemed as if the trees came alive. They were indeed alive and the spirit
of the forest was hungry for more souls. Every single wicked heart was sought, but even
the good hearted were mistakenly sucked into the realm if they got in the way.
The rain poured heavily upon Klinton’s face as he lay there slumped against a
tree. He was slightly unconscious from the impact his head made with the tree. Pam was
just several meter from him in the same predicament. The rain poured so hard it nearly
drowned them as what was now a stream raging through the forest carried them to their
current locations. This time the trees acted as saviors, catching them like fish net. It did
come with a painful price for Klinton, but nevertheless he was alive.
Just like Roy Beavers. He had a little more time because he was on higher ground.
In fact, he even gazed downward to notice the sinking of the camp. “Oh, my goodness,”
cried Roy. “Damn! Hello, anybody! Is there anybody down there? Oh shit!” Roy tried
with great effort not to fall down the sunken gorge, and only barely succeeded. He almost
became like Adam, who was buried deep under all of that mess.
After Roy escaped near disaster, he went deep into the jungle to find the crew.
“Hello, where is every body? Answer me, damn it! What the hell is going on?” Roy then
noticed that his area was beginning to flood as well, but that didn’t stop him from
screaming at the top of his lungs and traveling deeper into the rainforest. Just ahead of
Roy, Kyser walked very clumsily about the forest. He didn’t call out for help. He was
more interested in scratching himself. The ridiculous rain and mud aggravated his itch. It
got unbearable again, and he stopped and sat on a tree to scratch his entire body.
“Ahhhg. Oh God, please help. It itches,” cried Kyser. He began taking off his
clothes in order to reach other parts of his body. Soon there was a river of blood from the
wound he scratched. He screamed loudly to offset the pain and agony. Luckily, Wesley
and Edward were near one another and they both heard Kyser’s screams. The both
unknowingly were on an intercept course with the point where Kyser sat in distress.
“Hey. Hold on, I’m coming,” yelled Wesley as he sliced through the woods. “Oh
shit!” he shouted as he collided into Edward Pullins. “Hey watch where you’re going.”
“No reason for the fuss. I can’t see much of shit ahead of me.” The two bickered
for a moment, but they were interrupted by another distress call.
“Help, oh it..” It wasn’t quite clear what he was yelling, but it was obvious he
needed help.
“I’m finished debating with you — my boss needs me.” Wesley ran off and
Edward followed closely behind.
“What the fuck happened back there,” replied Edward with an extremely curious
face that was partly obscured by the rain.
“I really don’t know? All I know is that…I was dreaming…and …the next thing
you know it feels like I’m on some rollercoaster ride. I think these fucking tribal people
may have ambushed us.”
“Oh!” Edward was completely ignorant regarding what he was hearing. “What the
hell is going on out here?”
“Well! You said you’re here to arrest Richard. Well, you’re here definitely for a
reason.”
“Where is he anyway?”
“Hey! Kyser! Are you all right? What’s wrong?”
“Oh. It itches! I can’t take it anymore. Wesley, you got to help me.” Kyser
reflected a pitiful look in his eye to eye contact with Wesley.
“Hold on, man. We’re getting out of here someway.” Wesley turned around and
looked at Edward and declared, “We must find a way out of here fast.”
“Well what about Richard?”
“Look! I know you’re a hungry detective, like me, but do you want to find
Richard or get the fuck out of here? I say leave his ass here.”
“I figured he should know how to get out of here.”
“That crazy fucker! He’s been trying to keep us here since we decided we needed
to leave. This damn project has messed with his mind. Shit, he sold his soul.” The two
were now mutually convinced that getting home was the number one priority. They
discussed how they were getting out of here.
They paid no attention to Kyser and his anguish. He even whispered in anguish,
“Oh I can’t take it. It itches. I can’t see. I can’t see. Oh it itches.”
Edward was frustrated Richard had gotten away, and Wesley was upset at the
entire situation, which kept them occupied in heated discussion. “Well how in the hell do
you suggest?”
“Well, I…” Before Wesley could finish his statement, they heard a loud bang.
The two turned to see that Kyser had shot himself to death. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh my God.
Damn Kyser, why,” cried Wesley? “What the fuck you do that for. Damn! This is it! That
damn Richard caused this. I might kill that fuck!”
“Hold on, Wesley. Let’s not get stupid. I don’t know what has been going on
here, but we need to do the right thing and bring him to justice.”
“What! You forgot, we have no evidence, no jurisdiction, no evidence whatsoever
for a courtroom. He has too much fucking money anyway, but he won’t buy himself out
of this jam. I would rather abuse him.” Wesley ran off to hunt Richard down, and Edward
followed. “There’s no reason for both of us to search the same area, you go there, and I’ll
go here. Yell really loud if you catch up with the sleaze bucket.”
Roy finally arrived where Wesley and Edward had just departed. He looked
downward and bellowed a large scream. “Oh my God Kyser, who’s done this to you?”
Roy kneeled down to comfort Kyser’s already dead body. “Oh, Kyser! What is
happening?” He gripped Kyser tightly as if he was afraid to drop a little baby. “Tell me
who did this.” A huge splash sounded from Roy dropping Kyser in a puddle of water.
“I’ll find who did this to you.” He stood up and began to stagger his way down the path
Wesley and Edward trotted. He was too drunk to notice the suicide weapon still clutched
in Kyser’s hands. “Who the hell did this to Kyser? I’ll show you!” Roy pulled his gun
and kept it ready for whatever killed his partner. “Wesley! Anybody, who did this,”
screamed Roy nervously, because fear and alcohol did not mix. The rain didn’t mix well
for him either, nor did it for the crew. Those left near camp experienced the worst of it.
This area was flooding fast and soon would become a branch of the Amazon. If Richard
would have gotten his report done, then he would have known this area wouldn’t sustain
his structure. It would have advised him to start construction several miles deeper in the
forest the original spot. This area has higher land, but it was too late. The campsite was
already washing completely away. Deep in the mist another branch of the Amazon was
being born, and Klinton was smack in the middle with water up to his neck. He spilled
frequent gargles as the water splashed into his face. His hands slid backward in the mud
in attempts to keep his head above water. His feet slid forward from trying to get some
type of grip. Klinton made no sound in the form of words, just gasps, grunts, and
splashing water for his survival. Just as he positioned himself to maintain a constant
breath, the surface beneath gave in. The mud he relied upon became too liquid to hold
him. Klinton Westfield now was in fact submerged beneath a seemingly newborn river.
At least the current felt that way because he had swallowed an extensive amount of water.
Somehow he was able to swim to the surface and catch his breath, but he was unable to
control his direction. The currents carried him fast and in the direction Milo had perished.
That stream was the real reason the rain was able to overcome the terrain. However,
Klinton was far away from that incident and was closer to camp. He twisted and turned,
trying so hard to keep his head above water.
It was dark now and it continued to rain, so obviously there was no way to see
what was ahead. Klinton was able to get some control of his constant spinning in every
direction through his efforts at treading water. He was finally able to see what was in
front of him. This sight gave him a look of anticipation. This was mainly because he
wondered how this river could be flowing through this jungle. He also wondered how he
would dodge the huge trees ahead that still lay rooted deep beneath this newly born body
of running water. There was no way for him to stop, so he panicked a bit. In fact, the tree
stopped him roughly, and even scratched him up in the process. He felt entangled by the
various branches and gave in to his exhaustion. He hung there with arms extended,
trapped in the branches. His feet dangled in the flowing water, while his different scars
contributed blood to this flow. He felt actually relived he could rest a bit and considered
the trees as help. However, the blood he dripped in the newly founded Amazonian branch
couldn’t help because it was full of blood-thirsty creatures. He was too tired to worry
about that, so he just hung there to rest. The blood he contaminated the water with lured
Milo’s demise unknowingly. This time they were a little more hungry and thus a little
more fierce. Mostly, a grand plan was in progress because the tribe was tired of the
continuing exploitation of their land.
The main culprit of the exploitation was Richard, and he was being anxiously
pursued by a very angry man. After Wesley commanded the two to separate, it has been a
hectic journey, particularly for Wesley. Edward Pullins was advised to go right, while he
reserved himself the left path. This routed him closer to the lands that were being
severely flooded. It routed Edward deeper into the territories of the indigenous ones. It
was there that he noticed Richard walking about. He wasn’t sure it was him, because the
rain’s constant downpour made for the uncertainty. His gut instinct was to follow the
man, and that is what he did.
However, Wesley’s anger now clouded his judgment, so there were no instincts to
deter him from sudden oblivion. In this area the trees seemed to be more alive, because
they seemed to be attacking the camp and anything associated with it. The roots
amazingly moved when they wanted and even were partly responsible for some of the
deaths. It didn’t seem possible, but the roots started surging behind Wesley. “Edward, did
you find Richard?” yelled Wesley He turned to see what was making that noise behind
him. “Oh shit! What the fuck? Wesley cried out loud. He noticed the mud being thrown
up in front of him. It was like a huge worm slithering its way under the ground, and it
headed directly for Wesley. He stood there in amazement, not able to move or say
anything. Wesley turned around quickly and sprinted forward. He couldn’t go that fast
because the muddy terrain made for slipping and sliding, and not to mention his worry
and panic. You couldn’t tell the difference between the thunder and the sounds the trees
made as they lunged their roots at Wesley. He ran with all his might, but the roots were a
little too fast for him. As they got closer and closer the ground beneath gave way, and
Wesley began to stumble. Just before falling, he tried to cover himself behind another
tree, but those roots were alive too. They began to assist the pursuers by holding Wesley
down by the feet and ankles. “Hey! Let me go! What the fuck is it? Something’s got me.”
Wesley cried louder as he realized he couldn’t run from what was chasing him any more.
“Help, help, somebody! Edward! Detective, I need your help.” He struggled severely to
try and cut himself free, first by pulling and tugging at every piece of root he could get
his hands on. The rain again played a major factor in that his grip was very poor. “How in
the hell? I know the trees… It can’t be. What the fuck is going on? These roots are
moving. It’s got me. Fuck! Let me go! Shit! Help! Help! Richard! Richard! I’m going to
fucking kill you!” He reached for his knife and tried to sever trap that had him in its grip.
The roots were too thick and strong. They seemed to squeeze tighter as he cut harder.
One of his attempts to free himself had so much anger until his lunge with his knife sent
it hurling several meters away. The same strong force that had held Joe and the Kemps
had gotten hold of Wesley.
The trees where Klinton hung were a little more friendly because they became
useful to them. As the blood dripped from his wounds, the piranhas became blood thirsty.
It was as if they had heard about the taste of human flesh from those fish that had feasted
on Milo’s flesh, and their frenzy was even more chaotic than before. Feeling a bunch of
clatter beneath his legs, Klinton looked down. He began to feel uncomfortable as a swarm
of piranhas attacked his dangling legs. “Oh shoot, what the fuck is it?” said Klinton. He
grunted loudly from trying hard at pulling himself up from the munching. Luckily for
him, the trees branches served as leverage to pull himself fairly clear from the water. The
clatter continued from the splashing water. The attacking fish even jumped out at him, as
if wondering where their meal disappeared to. He gazed down at the ruckus in the water,
and then he scanned his surroundings, hoping to see anything that would help him escape
his desperate circumstances. It proved hard to see horizontally, but downward had some
hope. He scanned the various outlets the trees made with the water and realized it was a
huge maze of trees and vines too creepy to look at. The rain and darkness helped in that
aspect.
He then noticed a body floating along this waterway. “Oh my goodness, Pam!
Pam!” Klinton yelled at the top of his lungs. “Hold on, I’ll save you.” He wanted to jump
right in, but he hesitated a moment. He wasn’t sure if those piranhas still had a meal on
their minds. He thought that they hadn’t harmed Pam, so he dashed in. Nothing was
going to stop him from saving the loving and caring Pam. The stream’s current instantly
captured him. It was like déjà vu. The tussle with strong currents and gasping for breath
were just part of the horrendous memories associated with this attempt to save Pam.
Totally disregarding his performance the last encounter with the rapids, he swam
forward. “Hold on, Pam! I’m coming.” It took a deep dip to retrieve Pam’s body because
she had begun sinking. Klinton grabbed Pam around her neck and tried hard to hold her
above water. Apparently, Pam failed to overcome the sudden change in terrain. The effort
it took to sustain the both of them nearly caused Klinton to sink. The currents were back
in control. They drifted along with the current, with nothing but hope and each other.