Blood-Moon

by Pagan Writers Press

  The woman sat across my groin and it took me a moment to realize that I was naked too. Somehow, she had stripped me of my gear. Not only that, but despite the pain in my head, she had aroused me enough to be able to mount me.

  Whatever had been done to me to reduce the pain had somehow anesthetized me too, because although I was clearly inside her, it felt distant somehow, as if I was making love with a dream, someone who was insubstantial.

  She moved backwards and forwards at a steady pace, eyes closed, hands on her thighs, pressing herself down onto me with every forward thrust. Her oil soaked body glistened in the firelight, accentuating her movements, and the bounce of her incredibly firm breasts.

  I heard snatches of song in the air. The language was cruel and in a tongue I’d never heard before. Amazingly, despite her ministrations, I started to drift again, only becoming coherent with great effort.

  Then I noticed the bruise on her cheek had faded.

  How long have I been here for it to heal?

  Further deliberation on that matter was forgotten however, as she suddenly intensified her movements and brought me to a powerful climax, seeming to pluck it out of nowhere to match her own orgasm.

  Within moments I was unconscious. Typical guy, I know!

  Dawn arrived, to find me surfacing groggily back into the land of the living. The headache was still there, but it was different now. It felt as if I’d downed a bottle of bourbon on an empty stomach. Thinking of my stomach made me queasy.

  Looking blearily around, I saw the fire was out, I was back in my uniform, and in my sleeping bag. The woman was nowhere to be seen.

  Wow! That was some trip. Pity I didn’t get to enjoy it more.

  It took me a moment to realize the jungle was unusually quiet again.

  Looking around, I discerned nothing unusual and was about to check my gear for my weapons when my stomach turned upside down. Within seconds I was on my hands and knees, vomiting so hard I thought I was going to turn inside out!

  I raised my head and saw it!

  A jaguar was lying on the edge of the clearing, its huge head in its paws, its dull eyes watching me closely. I recognized those eyes. This was the jaguar from the previous week. The one I’d fed by the pool. What was it doing here? Surely it was miles from its territory now? Did it expect me to feed it again?

  Slowly it got to its feet, its gait slightly off.

  Shit! I must have stepped on her last night and then hurt her when I hit her with my ka-bar.

  Sitting back I crooned, “Are you all right, girl? Sorry if it was you I stepped on last night, I didn’t see you in the dark.”

  Empty eyes stared back. Her ears swiveled back and forth, the only outward sign she gave that she was paying attention.

  Patting my leg, I said, “No hard feelings about the love-bite either! I did stand on your tail after all.”

  I rolled my trouser leg up to take a look. A strange blue tracery, like marble, seemed to be etched into my skin beneath the surface. I removed my trousers to discover it radiated outwards from the bite and all the way up to my groin. Although not tender, I could feel a strange throbbing sensation beneath the skin.

  Oh great, I wonder what the long-term effects of this will be?

  Feeling weak, I drained my water bottle and went to refill it at the river.

  If the local wildlife doesn’t get you, one of the biggest killers in the jungle is dehydration. You lose so much fluid through sweating, that diarrhea and vomiting can be deadly if you don’t replace essential minerals. So, despite the inconvenience, it would be worth my trouble to make the effort.

  I found the river some ten minutes later and tried to get my bearings. I knew following it down course might not be the swiftest way of getting to safety, because I would be at the mercy of its casual meanderings. However, it was a sure-fire way of finding civilization, as all sorts of communities congregate along river banks.

  Ah hell! I wasn’t going to debate the issue. I wasn’t feeling good, my fever was getting worse, and the sunlight was making me squint. I’ll just follow the river.

  Suddenly I came up short!

  What the fuck am I doing?

  I’d just woken up from a night of goodness knows what, to find a jaguar sitting across the clearing not four yards from me. And I hadn’t given it a second thought! I’d just dropped my trousers, examined myself, and then took a quick stroll to get some water without a moment’s consideration of the danger I was in!

  But that was the oddest thing. I didn’t feel in danger?

  Shaking my head, I muttered to myself, “I’m definitely coming down with something. Knowing me it’s probably a severe case of terminal stupidity.”

  I looked at my watch, eight-thirty. Time to get going! Then I noticed the date, it was October 30th, the day before Halloween.

  The guys and I had intended to stay here to see how the South Americans celebrated the occasion. We had heard they had a lot of ancient folklore incorporated into the more modern aspects of the celebration. The full blood-moon was also a rare event and for it to fall on All Hallows Eve too, meant they were expecting all kinds of shenanigans from witchdoctors and witches. Added to this the extra information I had begun to dig up on the Anasazi and it was no wonder that the local Quechan trackers were cautious. With what I’d experienced over the past several days, I could see why!

  I returned to my camp site and wasn’t surprised to find my new best friend gone. She’d obviously gotten fed up waiting for breakfast. Without giving her a second thought, I packed up my gear and set off with renewed determination.

  Sadly, that resolve didn’t factor in my growing fever.

  In less than an hour, the strange throbbing sensation had filled the entire lower half of my body, causing me to feel as if I was using someone else’s legs. And those legs didn’t want to play.

  By the end of the second hour, the strange pulsing had spread to my chest and into my fingertips, forcing me to concentrate hard just to breathe! The strange discoloration to my veins was spreading, clearly evident now down my arms, marking the advance of the infection like a red flag.

  Less than three hours later, the trees were spinning. My sight became filled with all sorts of weird lights and hue’s along my peripheral vision, and it felt as if my boots were made of lead. I barely had the strength to move.

  The hours blurred together into one, long, torturous excuse for an existence. As the day eventually began to fade I knew I wouldn’t be able to prepare any kind of camp that night. I’d just drop wherever I stopped walking. That would present all sorts of risks, but at this moment I was beginning to feel as if not waking up again would be a relief.

  When I eventually came across a natural clearing, I took it as an omen. Stumbling up to the bole of a fallen tree, I shuffled around it, sat down, leaned back, and passed into the land of fast-forward dreams.

  The ‘mad-pack’ was back again, baying for blood! This time they found me, but instead of charging in for the kill, they strangely kept their distance, pawing the earth, and mewing like kittens, seeking attention or approval.

  My mysterious benefactor had also returned, looking softer in haloed moonlight and with lilies adorning her luxuriant hair. This time her eyes appeared completely normal and her face was graced with a smile of unusual sweetness.

  I was running again, but not blindly, not out of fear. This time my muscles coursed with power and the trees flew past me in a tumbling blur. My blood sang, thrilling at the vibrancy of life all around me, which fell over itself in its haste to get out of my way.

  I awoke to the feeling of hands exploring my body. For some reason my eyelids seemed glued shut. It took an age to coax them open, only to confirm what I already knew. Pocahontas was back–oiling me, massaging me–coaxing heat into my body, melting the ice running through my veins. Where her hands had passed, my body retained the life-warmth like an echo.

  This time she worked her way up to my temples, the musky scent of her concoction easing the
vice-like grip on my skull. I didn’t want her to stop. She was humming the same tune as before, her glittering eyes reflecting the blood red glow of the sinister moon.

  I moved my right hand slowly, my fingers inching toward her. Eventually I was able to grasp her hand. Weakly I mumbled, “Who are you? What’s happening to me?”

  Gently, she extracted her hand and made a sudden clapping motion twice. Uttering several strange words, she then placed her hands over my heart. Immediately, I felt strength flow into me. She repeated the clapping gesture and this time placed her hands over my head. My world swam with a multitude of images and sounds in a kaleidoscopic cacophony of light and noise that threatened to sweep me away.

  Eventually, the giddy rush slowed and I became aware of her firm body on top of me again. Only this time, the experience was entirely different!

  Whereas before I had felt detached and numb, it now felt as if my nerves had been supercharged. Sensitized to the point of agony, I was painfully and blissfully aware of the exquisite grip her sex had on me.

  She leaned forward onto my chest, her burning eyes boring into mine, her face somehow softer than before…chanting. Somehow, I was able to make out some of the words she was saying, even though she wasn’t speaking English.

  (Unintelligible)–“The people, our people… from long ago…” (Indistinct)–“The great walk…stands alone, he fights back against the…” (Garbled)

  Passion rose like sap within her and I could feel her movements become more urgent, the tempo of her strokes increasing, intensifying her heat. Her nails began to rake my skin like scythes, every gouge triggering a response from my hyper-sensitized epidermis.

  Her head snapped back. (Incoherent garble)–“Those who stayed while we departed, taking the secrets of our magic with us”–“Skin”–(Unintelligible)–“Walkers?”

  Her breathing grew harsher, deeper and more primitive.

  The tone became strident, coercive, revealing a subliminal undertone conveying a wealth of hidden meaning. “Sacrifices were made”–(required?)–(Incoherence)–“Now the blood moon cal…”

  She was keeping us both on the edge, prolonging the ecstasy, building the anticipation of what was sure to come.

  Why do I feel like I’m being instructed?

  “The blood carries knowledge”–(garbled)–“Shows the way…”

  The last thing I heard her utter before we climaxed in unison was, “The line is maintained.”–(Something)–“Our way is Antiihnii …”

  I didn’t have a clue what she was on about and I didn’t care. I was totally absorbed in the wave of cleansing pleasure that coursed through my body and burst from every pore, consuming me.

  “Anasazi we are…”

  Guy time again…I passed out.

  * * *

  Something was different.

  I wasn’t fully awake and yet, I could already sense a change–a subtle yet tangible variance–that made a difference.

  A weird difference!

  Why did I know that sharpness prodding into my left shoulder blade was a thorn? Or that the tickling sensation making its way along my left leg belonged to the claws of a scarab beetle?

  How did I know the rustling from the floor around me was caused by hunter ants, intent on their prey? Their yellow knees flashing wildly as they did battle with the termites from a colony located not fifteen feet away.

  When did I become an expert at distinguishing the difference between the fragrance of the water lilies that were congregated about the pool only fifty yards away and the sweet succulence of the tiny Gloxinia Sylvatica, so prolific this side of the Bolivian Andes?

  Without opening my eyes I let my senses roam.

  A further rustling became more and more pronounced nearby as a tarantula made its way home after a successful hunt, dragging its hapless victim to its larder.

  A taste of moisture saturated the air, telling me exactly where that same reedy pool emptied out into a tributary of a nearby river.

  More eyes are there, watching me. I didn’t need to look to know.

  A gentle breeze stirred everything around me, bringing with it the heat of a midday sun. It was midday already?

  Suddenly, I sat up. How the hell had I slept so long? Looking at my watch I confirmed the time, three-fifteen. And it was still the last day of October. Strange, it seemed…longer somehow.

  I sprang to my feet, moving within an instant of the thought! What?

  The pain and fever were gone! I was feeling…invigorated? No, that wasn’t enough. I was feeling…incredible!

  Whatever I had been suffering from was gone. Either it had run its course, or my hallucinations weren’t just a figment of my imagination. Pocahontas really had been visiting me in my dreams and using some ancient form of tribal healing on me!

  Yeah, right! Because that happens all the time in the real world!

  Although to be honest, part of me would miss her. I realized that once I got out of this shit-hole and went back to the world I knew–the real world–I’d never see her again.

  And I didn’t even know her name.

  I collected my stuff and got ready to depart. As I did so, I thought, my leg!

  Dropping to one knee, I rolled the trouser up to take a look at my injury. My first shock was the discovery that the field dressing was missing. The next, was the revelation of the fact that there was no evidence whatsoever of me having been bitten!

  I checked my leg again, pulling at the skin of my calf on both sides to find some indicator of a puncture wound. Nothing!

  Well I’ll be…?

  This was too much!

  I wasn’t going to argue. Like I said, I would rather be out of this hellhole than waste any time trying to work out the how and why of it. I could do that later, once I was back where I belonged!

  I set out at a good pace and found the river within fifteen minutes. Ten minutes after that I had a view across the valley and caught the scent–and then the sight–of a major river. As I’d suspected, it followed a southerly course that should take me in the direction of La Cruzada. Somehow I seemed to know exactly where I was and decided to stick to this ridgeline, as it pointed like an arrow towards my target.

  I was beginning to find the sunlight painful to endure and withdrew under the canopy, hoping it wouldn’t slow my pace too much. Surprisingly, it didn’t slow me at all and I reveled in the smooth flow of my steps as I jogged through the dense foliage without the slightest hindrance, the miles disappearing behind me with graceful ease.

  Damn! Why couldn’t I have felt like this when the Quechan tracker boys were after me? I’d have had no problems–even if I’d let them maintain sight of me.

  A little while later it began to darken, so I increased my pace, as I wanted to gain another visual reference before it was too late. If I could get it, I’d keep going through the night and be rid of this place forever.

  I chewed the miles up and spat them out.

  Eventually, the moon began to rise; its corrupted heart casting a bloody pall across the land below. Tonight would see it ascend in its fullness, a blood-moon on a hallowed night. God knows what it would do to the freaks of the mad pack, now thankfully many miles behind me.

  Soon I wouldn’t care, I was a few miles from a highpoint along the spine of this ridge and I’d get the reference I needed there.

  The ruby stain grew more pronounced with each passing minute and the very air seemed to thicken, making me feel as if I were swimming instead of running.

  Eventually, the final seconds ticked by and the entire disc broke free from the horizon. The jungle appeared to hold its breath in anticipation.

  I was approaching the crest, when a shock, almost like a physical blow ran through my body, forcing me to a halt!

  My whole focus turned inward toward an icy fire that seemed to ignite within my veins. Flaring brightly in my stomach, it radiated outwards toward my extremities in a surge that burnt as it went, supercharging my senses.

  I held my breath, expe
cting it to continue–and let out a sigh of relief as it began to fade into an almost subliminal throb.

  The moon rose higher and I became aware of a droning sound from all around me. Looking, I began to zoom in on insect after insect. Some were flying, some were crawling and others were jumping. Stunned, I realized I was listening to the amplified sounds of the creatures of the forest–all of them!

  Conflicting thoughts emerged. How is that possible? Why am I stopping?

  I was yards from the ridge. Less than a minute and I’d have the last bearing I needed for my final run. I’d be back where I belonged.

  That spurred me to move.

  Stomping forward, I forced myself to concentrate on my target. My sight spiraled into a tunnel and I could see nothing else. What is that? Don’t stop! Keep going!

  Those final steps seemed to take an age, but at last I was there.

  Scattered throughout the lowlands below were a myriad of lights. Illuminations dusted the darkness like the heavens reflected on a great inverted bowl!

  Home!

  Or was it?

  I tasted the distant air. It seemed alien somehow. Foreign and unnatural. Why? How did I do that? This is where I’ve fought to be. That’s where I belong.

  I heard footfalls behind me. Lots of them.

  Without thought, I found myself facing in the opposite direction within a fraction of a second, crouched, teeth bared, and with a coughing snarl ripping itself from my throat.

  The mad pack had found me! Bad luck for them.

  A trembling had taken control of my limbs that seemed to sink into my core. Not of fright, but of uncontrolled fury. I couldn’t contain it–it demanded release.

  The jaguars fanned out. There were eight of them, dead-eyed, silent, and lethal.

  I crouched lower, trying to control the shaking that was now consuming me, bringing me to my hands and knees. I began clawing at the dirt, digging at the soil in an attempt to bring the shuddering under control.

  The jaguars parted to make room for a late arrival, the light from the still rising moon bathing the crown of the ridge in blood, clearly identifying the final member of the clan.