I could hear the jungle, like a fierce, angry drum, its deep, rumbling bass booming and banging. I hid under the thick mossy trunk of a fallen tree, catching my breath. I dared not move; the sound of my shuffling feet would’ve alerted angry, frothing beasts. Their gnashing white teeth, incising canines, would tear into my flesh if they caught me.
The sky is darkening, that’s a good sign. The first drops of rain, I can hear them, pattering on the broad leaves of the jungle canopy. Rain is good, very good. It will confuse their animals, making it difficult to track my scent. And even more rain would be even better, as it would hide my tracks altogether. My heart is finally calming down. I can think clearer now. Maybe I will get out of this alive, I really hope so. Did I know what I was stepping into when I took the job? Of course, fucking, not. That’s me, Ankul the great, jumping before looking.
The jungle drums, I can hear them louder. They must be getting close. It is raining harder. I need to make a run for it before they come too close. Okay, okay, just a minute more. Just a minute, that’s all I need for the burning in my calf muscles to calm down. I think I will close my eyes for just a second.
Bang, Bang, Bang.
They are here, they are going to find me. What did I do? The great Ankul, you did it again, you fool. How could you sleep off? If it was just death that was fine, but these people, they are brutal, they are savage. They make you taste such pain that even hell will ask for a copy of their recipe for torture. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.
I am sprinting through the forest. It’s dark everywhere. Where? There, that way, maybe. Heart burning. Mouth dry. It’s raining harder. Clothes wet, clinging to body. Difficult to move quickly. I should take off my pants; they are restricting movement. I can’t stop. The drums, they’re horror, it’s closer. Faster, faster, need to get away. Splatter!
I fell, my foot hooked on a root. I fell with my palm facing down, and now I have a gash on my left hand. The rattle of gunfire is still distant, but getting closer every minute. The jungle is ominous now. The rain clouds are bursting open. The slow rain was good, but now there is so much of it that it is slowing me down.
I hear the dogs clearly now. I think they’ve got my scent. I am a dead man. Maybe I should end it before they catch me. Maybe. Too many fallen logs here, thick-girthed, old ones. I jumped over a few of them and slipped under a few. These will only slow me, for the dogs, these are a child’s obstacle course. Need to pick up the pace.
Right, left, left, right, face full of thorns, panting, slowing, heart burning. I can now hear the growling. The Rat-a-tat-tat of automatic weapons is echoing through the woods.
I ran so fast, sliding down the side of a hill, that the machine gun sounds have fallen behind. I must calm my heart, I need my energy, I need to fix my wounds. I found a small hole in the trunk of an old tree and squatted inside it. I put a protein bar into my mouth. That feels good. I am still jumpy, every little sound, crackle and cracking of a twig, is pushing me over the edge. But don’t worry, I have a knife beside me. A clean slice along the neck, aiming for the jugular will do the job. Fuck ’em, not letting those mercenary bastards get their hands on me. I saw what they did to the poor locals, their women raped and murdered, their men skinned alive. They are sending a message to all snoopers like me, stay away from here, while they denude the forests, and dig into its virgin bosom for the alloy X composite. The rumors are that the composite is from a prehistoric alien crash site. Most of the ship is dust and rubble; time and geology took care of that, but the alloy X composite can still be used for everything from Military to industrial uses. It is speculated that the composite is so strong that they could pull fibers out of it and spin them into cables that would be able to withstand the gargantuan forces exerted by a space elevator. There, the tourniquet has staunched the blood. I must run now.
Fuck, I can’t move. Perhaps this will help: an adrenaline-morphine combo. The instructions have a skull symbol on it and a note in red says, ‘take only if you are dying! Ten minutes until crash.’ Well, I will be dead in minutes. That fulfills the conditions of the shot.
Whack! I pushed the syringe into my thigh. Nothing is happening. Noth…
Heart, pressure pump. Feel like a jet engine. Demon in me. Legs, fire. I see everything. Forest blurring with speed. Foot hardly touching ground. Bullets zipping past ears. They miss. Running zig-zag.
Argh… dog’s jaw clamping down on leg. Cannot feel pain. Filled with anger, wrath, seething with rage, fire bursting out of eyes. Hands are made of steel. Held the jaw and tore it off its head. At least, it looks like that to my drug-addled brain. The dog is dead. Another dog is jumping towards me. Everything is slow motion. Caught it mid-flight and whirled it into the tree. Heard a heavy thud on impact. Crackling of bones. It’s dead. Another one. Poked its eyes out. Whimpering. A powerful full kick to its back. Spine broken. Bullets, lots of bullets. Need to run.
I am flying. He is right behind me. Bang, a gun goes off. I feel a sting in my buttocks, just a sting, nothing more. Running faster, jetting through. Woah…
Deafening, roaring. A wide, angry, muddy brown, swift river. A tropical river, gushing, thrashing, swollen by the torrential rain. I must jump in. That is the only way this story will have a good ending. The flow is insane. It’s a maelstrom, eddies crashing against rocks, ten-foot waves, whole trees uprooted, zipping by. They are here. A volley of bullets. I jump.
Darkness, deep, thick, opaque. The rushing water is robbing my lungs of air. Tumbling. I hit something, and my clothes are snagged. The water is rushing past. I am just a rag doll battered by a relentless wall of water. Clothes ripped, I am floating again. Brown translucence. I surface, I gulp for air, unsuccessful. A wave submerges me immediately. My lungs are full of water. I am drowning. A massive, hard thing, like a butcher’s block, thrust into my hand, crushing it between the rocks, I think it has sheared it clean off. Brown translucence, I can see again. I surface, I cough, retch water, gulp. Success. Air. I gasp again, breathe in sweet air. Awareness spreading. I am floating. The adrenaline-morphine combo is fading. I must make it to the shore before I crash. I muster strength. Bullets plunking all around. They are firing from the shore. They won’t jump in. It’s suicide, they know. My working hand caught a floating tree trunk. I am riding the raging river, and the trunk is an out-of-control race car on nitro. I look at my sheared-off arm. It’s still there, only very badly banged up and broken in multiple places. The river is too fast for them. They are out of sight. It is still raining. I can hear a deep, rumbling thunder ahead. Please let it not be what I think it is.
It is another converging river, not a drop off. Good, some luck, needed that. The tree is finally slowing down. The river has widened. It is more than a kilometer across.
I am finally catching my breath. I can think clearer now. But my body is dead weight. Even though the adrenaline-morphine combo has left my system, I am still numb to the pain, but I definitely cannot move. I might even lose consciousness. If that happens, I will drown. I need to trust my mighty flotsam friend. I tear off my shredded clothes, a long strip from them, and tie myself to the tree trunk. My destiny is now tied, quite literally, to its destiny. I can see only black, an endless dark tunnel.
When I became conscious, I found myself beached in soft mud by the riverbank. I am not sure how long I was out, or how far downriver I am right now, but the good news is I am alive. But not for long. My backpack is gone. My clothes are in tatters. My right hand is swollen, I cannot even move it, and my body is so bruised as if I were beaten with clubs all over. I don’t have anything to make a fire or keep me warm. I am shivering. I am hungry. Come to think of it, death by a bullet wouldn’t have been that bad a death. Now, I am going to starve to death, or maybe my hand will become infected, and there will be maggots in it. The river is as wide as an ocean now; I cannot even see the far bank from where I am. Around me, the forest is deep and imposing and damn well impenetrable. Only a miracle can save my sorry ass now.
