The tiger exploded from the undergrowth, a snarling burst of fury. It charged for the lithe girl in Igor's firm embrace.
The jungle cat leaped for the
pair. Igor flung the woman aside just
before the tiger tackled him. As the two
savage brutes wrestled on the verdant jungle floor,
The tiger was a frantic flurry of razor-sharp talons, and even Igor Klugman's strong hands could not hold the cat the bay. In desperation, Igor unholstered his pistol, thrust the barrel into the killer cat's toothy face and fired.
The animal yelped as it jumped off the big man. With frantic ferocity, it wiped one paw against the powder burns that now covered its left eye.
Free of the predator's weight, Igor sat up, leveled his pistol and barked off a second shot. A miss! But the big cat was spooked, obviously this prey had a bite it had not encountered before! The thunderous resound and the fiery flash were enough make this hunter think twice. It growled at the big man as if in retort, then disappeared into the lush underbrush, no doubt in search of an easier meal.
She paused upon the bank as a
second look revealed the fallen tree trunks were in truth a float of
crocodiles. They seemed to eye her with
an evil gaze as one rolled in the muddy water and some opened their jaws as
though in anticipation. With no more
action that this,
Suddenly there was the snap of a
branch in the jungle behind her. A
rustle of fern leaves sounded off to one side.
A heartbeat later,
"You shouldn't wander off
like that,"
She launched herself from the muddy bank, leapt for the nearest croc. She landed on its back, and jumped for the next one. From one to the next, she leap-frogged her way across the narrow river, leaving a path of thrashing lizards in her wake. Her boots touched down on the far bank and turned back to view the stunned faces of her pursuers.
The amazement written on their faces matched the feeling she had inside, but the adrenaline overwhelmed its inevitable grip. "Catch me if you can!" she chided them, then ran into the lush cover of the jungle, leaving the river, the crocodiles, and her pursuers behind.
* * *
Lewis groped and stumbled his way through the dark cave. He rounded a curve and found a light ahead, glimmering with the promise of an exit. With his hope buoyed, he rushed ahead.
There was an exit, a wide mouth in the cliff wall, easily large enough to walk through. He quickly learned this exit was high in the center of the cliff, no more convenient than where he entered. He turned skyward and found the cliff peaked only about a dozen yards above him, and a copse of palm trees leaned out over the edge as though they were expecting him. Thick vines grew from that clump of trees, and clung to the rocky cliff-face.
Resigned to this fate, Lewis inched his way along the ledge and took the leafy rope in his strong hands. He tugged on the vine to test its strength, and was pleased when it didn't break. Thanks to a combination of strong fingers and elbow grease, Lewis shimmied his way to the top of the cliff.
Perched at the edge of the cliff, he looked around to get his bearings. A streak of smoke stained the blue sky above the palm fronds, and he knew it leaked from the lip of the volcano. With an estimate of where that landmark was, he could compose a mental map with his approximate location, and the relative locations of the demolished derelict, and the scuttled seaplane. Armed with this knowledge, he continued his trek across the island.
He trudged through the jungle for nearly an hour before he heard the telltale rustle of another path being forged through the underbrush. Lewis hid himself behind a tree and waited to see whether the newcomer was man or beast. Moments later he found Bethany Gale approaching as she stumbled through the leafy terrain.
Lewis stepped out from his hiding place and called to her.
"
Lewis hung his head. "He didn't make it." She released her breath in a short, baleful moan. "Have you seen any sign of Miss Turnbull, or Johnson?" he asked.
"No, just
"Then we have to keep heading for the temple," he said, pointing in one direction. "They should be making their way there."
"Right,"
* * *
After an hour of marching, the
jungle thinned and came to an end at the edge of the foothills that ringed the
smoking volcano. As they crested the
short hillocks, they spied a smaller pillar of smoke stemming from some point
south of the volcano, not too far from where they expected to find the
At last they found the source of that smoke. It was a bonfire ringed by a collection of grass huts, in turn surrounded by dense jungle. The encampment was alive with Kazooli warriors who danced around the fire to a rhythmic drumbeat. Lewis and Bethany scanned the little village and soon spotted Sarah Turnbull as she was pulled--kicking and screaming--from a bamboo cage.
The natives pulled the blond girl before some authority figure dressed in a cloak of exotic feathers and a headdress made from the skull of a jungle cat. He was Hokumba, the tribe's venerated Witch Doctor. He regarded the slim girl with an appraising eye, administered a blessing with a wave of his feather-adorned scepter. The warriors dragged her away, to a stake at the north-end of the village, beneath the stern gaze of the skull-face formed in the side of the volcano.
"This can't be good!"
Lewis ran his fingers through his hair, under his hat as his mind raced. There was no time for fancy plans, there was barely time for action. "You got a gun?" he asked.
Lewis harrumphed, handed her his pistol. "I'm going in to get her," he told her. "Cover me!"
With an incredulous frown, she found the gun in her hand. Before she could stop him, he bounded across the hills toward the native village. "Can't be good!" she said again as she sought a better vantage point on the next hill.
She sighed. "No good at all!" she declared as she raised her hands where they were clearly seen. Her knife and gun were quickly seized by the natives.
The Kazooli patrol marched her down into the village, interrupting the celebration. From her vantage point, Sarah called out in despair upon seeing her companion's capture.
"Hiya kid,"
"They're going to sacrifice me to the Volcano God!" Sarah wailed.
"Well...there's an experience
you can't get in school..."
Suddenly, she found herself before the Witch Doctor. Hokumba looked her over, conferred with the advisors at his side. The group looked back and forth between Bethany and Sarah, appraising them both.
"I wish I could tell what
they're saying,"
Sarah cocked her head to one side and listened intently. "It sounds like they're debating whether you would make a better sacrifice than I."
A cry erupted from the village,
interrupting the conference between the Witch Doctor and his fellows. The warriors parted and Nyfu stepped
forward. The noble savage made a passionate
decree as he advanced through the mob, thrust one accusing finger at the
newly-caught woman. He punctuated the
end of his speech with one deft wave of his hand, and
"I remember this guy,"
"Apparently when you struck him, you bruised his pride!" Sarah told her. "Now, he demands the right to fight you in a duel...to the death!"
No comments:
Post a Comment