Party Crashers

I am still in shock after looking at the mess of the man as the tree stops swaying. The natives swarm over and cut the remains down. It is a frenzy of sorts that has most of them moving with the body as they head toward the ceremonial fire. They heave it into the flames and the fire sends sparks into the misty air as the mass settles and the inferno begins anew.

"He's moving." Lou pokes me with the machete. "Take this and get Chris loose."
He looks for the little Indian with Chris' foot and then heads out.
I take the machete and watch the smattering of natives that are still around Chris and the other victim. Their eyes are on the fire and now the Shaman as he dances around the burning flesh.

I crawl on my belly toward Chris, who is looking wide-eyed in my direction. I must look like a big python coming at him through the grass because he starts to writhe around, trying to back up or turn away.

"Hey... Chris?" I whisper as loudly as I can to have him hear me but still be silent to the others.
"NO... no, no, no... I gotta go, get out of here." He sputters sentence fragments at me as I come up to him. He wildly kicks his foot at me, catching the machete and knocking it into the grass.
"God damn it, Chris." I turn to find the machete and he starts talking, but not quiet like before.
"NO...NOT... YOU." I think he recognizes me. He is twitching really bad, his face ticking. Whatever this shit is they gave him it is fucking him up. I turn back toward the excecution tree and see the bowl that the Shaman used still on the rock where he placed it before sending that man on the ride of his life.
I grab the machete and turn toward the smattering of natives still on this end of the clearing. They are slowly heading over to the Shaman and the fire, so I wait until they have stepped away before I cross over to the bowl.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Lou skirting the clearing abreast of the little Indian that has Chris' foot. The man stops to chant, the rest of his clan are ahead of him or have their backs to him. Lou makes his move. Like a panther with his prey he takes the man back into the jungle after snapping his neck. We have the prosthesis, now to wake him up so we can make a run for it.

I grab the bowl and start back... but then think better of it and decide to pour some of the black substance onto a palm sized leaf I pluck from one of the plants.
That Shaman is not as entranced as the rest of these folks and he might just notice if something is out of place.
With the leaf cupped in one hand, I make my way back over to Chris. I don't seem to alarm him now that I'm not slithering through the grass. He is still ticking and mumbling while I try to pour what little of the substance I have into his mouth, but he fights me.
"Come on, Chris... knock it off." I look on the ground for a stick or something. That Shaman used that claw or whatever it was to get it in that guy's mouth. Not a lot of sticks laying about in the jungle. I take the machete and take a couple whacks at the roots of Chris' tree and manage to cut off about a ten inch long piece.
Lou scares the shit out of me when he bolts out of the jungle.
"Jesus..."
"Did you get him loose?"
"I thought I better wake him up first with some of that black shit before we cut him loose."
"Good thinking."

We take the root and dab it in the remains of the black stuff and then dart it into Chris' mouth while he rambles on. He stops immediately and his hardened, maniacle gaze softens.
"Do it again." Lou tries to get the prosthesis into place.
I repeat the process, whiping what is left of the black substance onto the root and then pop it into his mouth.
He blinks once or twice, then looks down at Lou.
"It doesn't go that way."
Lou looks up at him, then at me... then back to him.
"Well hello, Sunshine."
"Why are you touching my leg, you fag?"
"Isn't that the pot calling the kettle black?"
He moves to swing at him but his hands are still tied.
"HEY... cut me loose you guys."

I grab him by the shoulders and give him a shake. "Do you know where you are?"
His eyes dart this way and that and then settle back on mine, "Nope."
"I will untie you but you have to follow us and be quiet... understand?"
He nods his head.
I draw the machete across his bindings and they fall away. Immediately he goes about resetting the prosthesis.
"Hurry up, Sunshine. These guys look like they will be ready for another test-flight on that tree pretty soon."

Chris struggles to his feet, still under the waining influence of whatever had him in the trance.
"Oh shit..."
"Easy there, pal, we have a long way to go to get out of here." Lou drags him back into the jungle where we left our packs. I follow, keeping my MP5 levelled at the distant crowd of natives.

As Lou and I hoist our packs up and on the chanting stops. We freeze and look at each other, then at Chris. Realization seems to have crept back into his eyes, like he has come out of it.
"Shhhhh..." He motions for us to get down.

"Welcome back." Lou gives him a pat on the back as we all get small.
"I new you guys would come... just new it." He throws a big arm around my neck and tightens his grip for a moment. A big fist stirs up the hair on my head. When he lets me go I straighten up.
"What happened out here?"
His finger comes up to his mouth and once again our whispers fall silent.

The crowd starts back up, their chanting turning to screams and shouts as the Shaman ushers the crowd back to the execution tree. We watch from our cover as more of the vines tied at the top of the tree are drawn down and the tree is locked into place.
The spectacle is repeated as they take the other Miner from the base of his tree and fasten him to the trunk of the execution tree. The crowd is wild now as the Shaman grabs the bowl and holds both it and the sceptor with the animal claw at arms length overhead, turning and dancing as he does.

"Whoa, what a trip." Chris whispers at the spectacle.
"You ain't scene nothing yet." Lou says, his eyes glued on the Shaman who plays it to the hilt for the crowd.

The claw is dipped and administered to the victim. The man regains consciousness and begins to struggle.
"NO... YOU CAN'T DO THIS." His words are dampened with the struggle against his bindings. The crowd goes wild. The Shaman holds his his sceptor high... the frenzy peaks, and then he gives the signal and the vines are cut.

We watch as the tree whips toward the rock face, the man screaming the whole way. His wailing stops abruptly and the tree flings back the other way, again spraying the crowd. Only this time the man had disintegrated from the waist up, so when the tree comes to a stop all that is left dangles from the ankle bindings.

"Oh HELL no." Chris' jaw drops.
"That would have been you next, old friend." I tell him.
"HELL NO."
"Shhh, we gotta make tracks." Lou yanks him by the arm.

We start back toward the river, keeping Chris between us as Lou leads and I take the rear. Behind us the natives have cut their latest victim down and start to haul the remains to the fire when we hear a voice higher than the rest... alarmed and cautionary.
There is silence for a moment and we can hear the Shaman speak.
"Shit. We gotta go back." Lou turns us toward the crowd once more.
"You understand what he is saying?"
"No... I understand that if we let those little natives escape into the jungle that they will have us all on that joy ride before sun up. We have a better chance at them when they are in the clearing."

Lou and I pull our Kimbers and hand them to Chris. We had only gone thirty or forty feet before the alarm was sounded, so it is only seconds before we make the clearing.

The native drums that have been beating this whole time now take on a different cadence. A different message is being sent. Within seconds it is lost to the sound of the screams of the crowd as our silenced MP5s rake them down. Spears and darts fly our way as those on the outer reaches try to fight back. The reports from the Kimbers crack through the night air as Chris' walks through the clearing, picking off one after the other until he has the Shaman in his sights.

"NO... CHRIS, we need him." Lou calls over his shoulder as he lets burst after burst fly from his MP5.
Chris sneers at the Shaman.
"Lights out, bitch."
He brings the side of the Kimber across the witch doctor's face, knocking the mask off of the man as he falls to the ground.

A few of them run out into the jungle as we make our way through the clearing. A couple of those try to turn and fight, but catch a round or two in the process. In the end we face no resistance.
The drums here in the clearing stand empty now. But now that the firing has stopped we can hear the other end of this communication somewhere in the jungle beyond, maybe miles away."

"Not good." Lou says, eyeing the edge of the clearing for any heroes that might make a run at us. It seems they have all but given up at this point.
"What?"
"Those drums... might be re-enforcements."

"So now what?" I let the MP5 hang on the strap and rub the back of my neck. I come up with a dart. "Oh crap."
Lou motions for it and I hand it to him. He sniffs the end of it, then rubs the tip of it between his fingers.
"Just a dart. Nothing on it."

We stand for what seems an eternity, but only twenty seconds pass.
"Hey, that's my watch." Chris reaches out and takes Lou's wrist, looking at the Breitling.
"Yep... I found it in the jungle." Lou tells him, tearing away from his grip.
"Give it to me."
"Fuck off."
I step between them. "Are you fucking kidding me?"
"He started it." Lou says, like they are fighting over a red rubber ball in a school yard.
"These little bastards are out there getting re-eforcements and you two are arguing over a fucking watch."
"Keep it, then." Chris throws his hands up in surrender, both Kimbers' slides back all the way to show they are out of ammunition."
"Don't sweat it, Sunshine, I'll give it back to you."
Lou motions for the Kimbers as he sets his pack on the ground and Chris gives them up. Two fresh clips are slapped into place and he hands them back to Antonelli, who pulls each slide back in turn to load the first round.
"You can hold my pistol as a deposit... okay?"
Chris nods.
Lou pulls a couple of large zip-ties out of the pack, then slings it back over his shoulders.

"Where do we go?" I ask, scanning the jungle for any movement. The fire still blazes in the middle of camp, so the night vision will not be of much use right here.
"Go and grab that Shaman and zip-tie his wrists." He nods at Chris who takes the zip-ties and runs over to the downed tribal leader.

"Where are we going?" I repeat.
"They know we came up the river, that's for sure. We would be like sitting ducks out there unless we kill every last one of these guys."
"What other choice do we have? I mean going down the river. I doubt we can kill all of these guys... and it has to be pretty damn illegal, don't you think?"
Lou looks at me and smiles wide.

Chris drags the Shaman by the wrists, which are bound behind his back. He holds him like a suitcase. It has to be pulling his arms out of their shoulder sockets. When he gets up to us he drops him on the ground.
"Motherfucker... " He kicks his good foot into the ribcage of the downed Shaman.

Before another word is spoken, a familiar sound overcomes the bugs, fire, and distant drums. It builds on the horizon and then crescendoes overhead as Abigail can be seen through the treetops.
"Holy SHIT... Jerry... it's Jerry." I drop my pack and begin to rifle through it, hoping there might be a radio or a beacon of some kind. No radio, but there are signal flares.
"He is homeing in on this watch, Jake... must still be putting out a signal."

Chris perks up. "Hey, there is an airfield they scratched out of the jungle northeast of here. One of the miners told me about it when we first got taken."
I put everything back in my pack and sling it into place, loading the flaregun afterword.

We can hear Abigail in the distance. We wait to see if she will turn back. Above the triple terraced jungle is a three quarter moon. If there is an airstrip cut out of the jungle, that might be enough light to reveal it.

"Which way is north?"
Lou pulls the tracker out of the zipped side pouch of his pack. He turns it on and even though it is tracking the signal from the watch on his wrist, it does indicate north as well.

Chris is pretty certain that the airstrip is a large operation. The miner told him it was an equipment staging point for the Keenan Mining Corporation. It might even be lighted and manned around the clock.
We decide to make for the airstrip. I shoot a flare off while we are still in the clearing. There might not be another chance.