Demons in the Jungle

Chapter 24

  Charlie was in the slave pen.

The area was almost completely empty. The cages had been removed, their occupants nowhere to be found. The light of a dozen torches spilled over the man's face as he knelt in the dirt, in the middle of the pen. He had his hands together and he was muttering something under his breath, his eyes closed. He was praying, I realized. He was making his peace.

I didn't say anything. I had no words for him anymore. I'd already dealt with Amy. I didn't see Debra, but I saw my kill. I still didn't have my kill, so I simply readied my kukri, raised it up, and stabbed down at his back as hard as I could. However, before the blade could connect, the man vanished into mist before my eyes. I blinked, spinning around with confusion as the music blared in my ears.

I looked behind me, and there he was again, on the ground, praying quietly. I screamed and grabbed him by the hair, yanking him to his feet. I moved to draw my kukri across his throat, but before I reached him, his neck exploded with colorful flowers. His skin seemed to shrivel up like a raisin before he vanished before my eyes again.

"The demon comes to burn and kill, to raze the jungle that birthed him." Charlie said, now standing before me with his arms spread wide. "I will be struck down by a God, and I will return a lion!"

"Shut up and die!" I screamed, rushing him and pushing him to the ground. He didn't resist as I drove my kukri into his chest, as hard as I could. I felt it slip past his rib cage, slamming through the liver and then deep into his heart. I screamed again, pulling the blade out and then stabbing again, into his stomach, and again into his chest, and again and again. Then I brought the knife down on his throat, once, twice, three times, my vision blurring with tears as the blood exploded onto everything around me. By the time I had stopped, his head had nearly detached from his body, tilting to the side and hanging by a thread, his eyes glazing over. Then I fell back, hearing the music fade from my mind, feeling the poison drain from my heart.

I was back in the real world again.

It took me several long, confusing seconds to understand what I was seeing. My eyes followed the trail of blood that led to the figure laying on the floor, face-up. I recognized the wounds. These I had inflicted; the repeated stabs to the chest, the throat slashed to ribbons. But the body the wounds were attached to...it was all wrong. How could it be? How it could possibly be anyone but Charlie?

I blinked, leaning forward, my lip trembling with disbelief. It wasn't Charlie. That slim frame, that blonde hair...no, this wasn't Charlie at all. All of that blood, all of this horrible violence...there was no fucking way. There was no way that it was Debra.

But it was.

My eyes went wide as I registered the facts. Her chest had been turned into a horrible puddle of gore, her pale skin standing out against the stark blood. Her thin neck was still spurting out the last of her life. The horrible angle her head was at, the way her eyes stared upward at nothing...God, I had nearly decapitated her.

Debra was dead.

I dropped the kukri and fell back against the fence of the pen, unable to breathe. No. No, no, no, this couldn't be right. There was no way. I was still feeling the poison. I was out of my mind with toxins. It had to be.

"Attention!" A voice shouted in Portuguese, and I shook my head, blocking it out. It kept talking, but I didn't understand. It had an odd, echoing quality to it, and it came from nearby. I stood, moving shakily to the entrance of the slave pen, peering out.

The police had taken over the docks. Most of Amy's men had been shot dead, littering the ground around the docks as the officers strode forward confidently. Some had surrendered, laying on the ground with their hands on their heads while they were restrained by other officers. Spotlights were spilling across the docks from large patrol boats, shapes of more police officers moving on board. They had taken the beachhead. Amy's camp was theirs.

I fell back, sitting down and turning around with a scuttling motion. The body stared back at me, eyes hollow and lifeless. Debra. She was still there. She was still dead.

"Come on, no!" I shouted, reaching up and smacking myself on the side of the head, trying to shake myself out of it. "This can't be right, this can't be!"

I closed my eyes and inhaled deep, letting loose the loudest scream I had ever given, my lungs rasping with the effort. I fell down on my side, all of the energy going out of me. When I opened my eyes, Debra's greeted me, with that horrible glaze over them.

"Vamos, vamos, there's someone over here!" A voice called, and I stood, hearing footsteps nearby, coming up the path to the slave pen. I looked at the body, and then at the kukri in my hand, and then at the jungle behind me.

Fight, run, or surrender. Those were my options. I could fight them and probably die. I could surrender and be taken home...whatever that meant anymore. I'd be arrested for murder, I'd go to jail, I would lose all my friends...I would lose everything. That was inevitable. My old life was gone no matter what I did. But if I ran...maybe I could just keep running.

I brought my hands to my head, my brain feeling like it was about to explode from running so hot. Run, fight, give up. Run, fight, give up. Fight or flight, Tommy. Lion or gazelle.

Lion or gazelle.

The End