Dark Island Book 1 (Complete)

Chapter 23

Shafts of glimmering sunlight penetrated the jungle canopy. I had no idea what time it was, all I knew I that it was morning. We had been following the blood trails from the beach to a point where it stopped in the dense vegetation.
“The trail ends here,” said Ronnie pointing at a bush. He peered through the twigs and branches but saw nothing.
“Are you sure?” I asked confusingly. “This is strange. How can it stop here?”
Ronnie pushed past the giant bush and scanned the jungle.
“Hear that noise? And I’m not talking about the river.”
The roar of a waterfall echoed in the distance.
“Yeah, sound like a waterfall.”
Ronnie picked up a blue leaf and held it up to the sunlight. “There’s no autumn in the rainforest. None of this makes any sense.”
“You’re telling.” I sat down and leaned against a moss-covered log. Ronnie came sitting down on a fallen log across from me. “You know Jack; I’m having a hard time accepting any of this. And with Harold gone I’m not sure what to feel anymore.”
I blew out a breath as I sat and looked at Ronnie. I wanted to say that everything will be okay, but with everything that has happened so far, I was still in disbelief. I’d just have to force the thoughts and feelings away and try to stay calm.
“Me to Ronnie, but we just have to keep our heads clear. We will find Harold and I’m sure help will come for us.”
I was concerned of what might be waiting for us on this island, but finding Harold was my first priority.
We were on the move again, hacking and climbing through the jungle until we came across something odd.
Rocks; as big as cars, lined up to our right. Upon them; skulls stacked I a row next to each other. Fear started to run through my head.
Ronnie froze for a moment but then leaned closer when he noticed the carvings on the stones.
“I...I can read this Jack,” he said, pointing multiple times at the marking engraved in the stones, like a teacher scolding a child.
“How can you read that?” I asked curiously.
“John Edward,” he said. “He writes about ancient languages, it’s pretty amazing.”
“Okay, so what does it say?” I asked, strolling my hand across the carvings.
'THE WORLD IS BORN. ECHOES, DANCING FIRES, LAUGHTER. HE IS ALWAYS BRIGHT AGAIN WHEN HE RETURNS.’
“What?” Confusion struck me. I didn’t know how to react to what I’ve just heard. All I can think is that we are not alone on this island.
Then the questions started flooding through my mind; will they harm us? Where did all these skulls come from? I could feel the fear building up inside me.
“Wait a minute, there’s more,” said Ronnie as he wiped the dirt from the half-covered symbols.
‘HE WHO SERVES THE SKYWATCHER BY BLOOD AND SACRIFICE SHALL BE SAVED.’
A chill ran through my spine as Ronnie read the words. “This is getting really freaky now. Now there’s ancient living people believing in weird stuff. We have to find Harold and Joe, and fast.”
“Yeah man, I agree.” Said Ronnie. “We have to keep following the sound off the waterfall.  We can figure out what to do from there, and we need clean water too.”
I moved away from the rocks and started to follow Ronnie through the vegetation, were we found a small dirt path. We decided to follow it, hoping it would lead us to our destination.

***

The moonlight started to shone through the canopy, illuminating the path we walked on. The air was slightly misty.
“What is that?” I asked curiously. Pointing next to the broken tree, lying halfway across the path.
“I’m not sure, it looks like a type of gate; wooden gate to be precise.”
Upon reaching the gate, we noticed that it was in fact the entrance to a burial ground. Immeasurable tall trees with thick branches and luscious green leaves surrounded the burial grounds. The burial grounds were big, eerie; its soil was dark and the wooden tombstones looked like broken jagged teeth. A foul stench hung through the air. I tried to figure out where it came from, and then my gaze fell upon the piles of skeleton bones lying across the grounds and rotten bodies; spears penetrating right through them. My heart started to race, fear rush through my body.
“What is this place?” I asked trying not to vomit. I turned around to face Ronnie, trying to get the images out of my mind. His face was pale; he did not move a muscle.
“I think these people were sacrificed, Jack! From what I could pick up from the symbols on the stones, it could be from a tribe called the Asmats. I’ve read about them in one of John Edward's books, it’s something similar to what we are seeing here.”
“This can’t be good. So what you are trying to tell me is that we are dealing with some kind of sacrificial tribe?” I asked. Oh gosh! Harold. The thought struck my mind. He is still out there...alone.
“What did this John Edward say about these so called Asmats?”
“From what I’ve read so far, he states that the Asmats lived for pleasure. They were spiritual and physically at peace with all carnal desires of the flesh. They also believed that all their ecstatic pleasures were god-given. Therefore, their extreme indulgence in such was understandable. One of their main religious celebrations was the annual three-day fertility rite. The Christian world would consider this form of worship lascivious and obscene, but they accepted it as an integral part of their religion. This form of worship usually started at full moon, signifying the beginning of their annual fertility rite. Their main believe was human sacrifice. Their religion was not unlike that practiced by the Aztecs of Mesoamerica. They are very protective and private. The females wore sarongs and the males usually lion cloths. Every now and then, the Asmats conducted religious rites to their respective god. The sacrificial victims were always non-tribe members or 'outsiders'. They believed that by doing so their 'god' will protect them. So yes, Jack, this isn’t good at all. If this is the tribe John Edward wrote about in his books, we are dealing with cannibalism.
“Harold!” I shouted. We have to find him before these so called Asmats do.
Our conversation is interrupted when a series of sounds struck through the air. My first impulse was to grab Ronnie and run from the direction from the sound, but even as I hesitated, the noise was repeated. Hardly breathing, my body tense and prepared for instant flight, completely motionless, listening.
A few moments later, I realized that the noise was stationery, and had nothing to do with our presence.
“Quick Ronnie, hide!” I whispered.
We ducked behind a bush just inches from the burial grounds. Yet seconds after, my curiosity began to take over. Disregarding my own safety, I stealthily made my way toward the now intermittent noise. I finally paused behind a small bush next to a tree, a few feet from Ronnie. My ears straining to catch the slightest sound. I caught my breath in my throat when I heard the nearby sound of what had to be unfamiliar human voices. Still unconsciously holding my breath, I slowly peered over the branches. My eyes grew wide and unbelieving as I stared I wonder at the strange sight before me. Not ten feet away, two enormous men stood still next to a decaying body lying on the ground.
“Do you think they are the Asmats Ron?” I whispered silently.
“It could be, I mean look at them, same description.” He answered back.
My gaze returned to the two men, trying to figure out what they are doing. I slowly reached into my bag for my revolver, with my eyes still locked on them.
This may be our only hope, if things get out of hand.