The Jungle

Prologue

The Island.

It was a deadly place. In Metropola, they never spoke of it, only acknowledging its existence in the most grotesque of Vbooks and in the most horrific and violent of holoscreen shows. It frequented their nightmares and made their stomachs sick.

It was said that the island was the habitat of the most horrific of beasts, which were created by a group of scientists back in the twenty-second century. The legends included creatures such as sharks the size of a transportron engine and birds the size of hovercars. Both of which were conditioned to feed on human flesh, of course. In addition, there were smaller monsters like scorpions that could deliver enough toxin in the smallest drop of liquid to kill an elephant in seconds. There were spiders no bigger than a dime whose venom paralyzed their prey for days as the spider fed on its blood.

There were rumors of the natives who inhabited the island. They’d been there since the beginning of civilization, living the way of the hunter and surviving on what the island had to offer. They shot bows and arrows and lived in huts deep within the thick jungle. Few had ever seen them. No one even knew where they came from. According to legend, they were tough as nails and smart and so quiet their footfalls would not even be sensed by a cat. They did not leave tracks and no one from Metropola even knew if the islanders spoke the same language as they.

Supposedly, there was a research station on the island that studied its unique flora and fauna, but no one had ever come back from it alive. Every five or ten years, a new group of scientists was flown out to the island to replace the dead ones, but none ever returned. Except the investors.

The investors were some of the richest men in the world. It didn’t matter how they made their fortune, but most of them bought shares in the island’s science programs. The work being done on the island was top secret - no photographs or holograms were allowed - so the investors always flew to the island in bright, orange planes that looked like they came from the twenty-first century. When they returned, many of the investors didn’t speak a word for several days. They sat in their houses and shivered, with their blinds drawn tightly and their doors locked. They refused meals and water and most could only utter one word for weeks afterward: Kupata.

Some investors, however, had a very different reaction to the island. They returned with joyous smiles on their faces, bragging of the wonderful things they’d seen and that, though it was still quite dangerous, the work being done on the island would change the future of mankind. These investors returned to the island numerous times to inspect its progress. Their positive feedback continued to draw new scientists to the island, and its research was allowed to continue.

The people of Metropola turned a blind eye to what the island really was. It was a place of death; a place where the most evil, unforgettable murders took place. It was the birthplace of the dreaded “Thunder Season.”