Jungle Goddess

by Charles Nuetzel

  "Well, this is it, Bobby-boy!” Barton exclaimed, as he fired the engines and started the plane down the runway. In a few minutes they were reaching for the clouds.

  The sky was clean as they took off from Nairobi, though in the next hours it suddenly began to change in texture.

  "You sure everything is okay? I heard something about a storm.” Bob cautioned in a dead sounding voice.

  "Nothing to worry about. We should be able to climb above it, if it comes our way. As long as the plane keeps chuggin’ there isn't a thing to worry about! I had some trouble with this ol’ lady a year or so back, but we worked that out. And as you can see, I'm alive and well."

  "Just so you keep us all in the same condition,” Bob offered, a bit uncertain.

  "Never you mind about that. If I had doubts I wouldn't be flying even if Ms Bentley was quite insistent about an immediate start! I got the impression one doesn't deny her anything she wants!” His broad face opened in a generous smile.

  "You're right about that."

  "Well, I never take a client I don't know something about. Your boss filled me in. Well, you'll have your hands full. Bet she's all tigresses! I'll take care of you folks. You can deal with Ms Bentley. She's yours to command."

  "More like the other way around,” Bob admitted, dryly.

  "Well, that's fine with me.” He laughed at that. Then added: “We're well equipped. And during the next days you'll be enjoying the thrills of a life-time!"

  "I can do without too many thrills,” Bob confessed, a bit nervously.

  "You sound actually ... uneasy. First time on safari?"

  "First time."

  "Well you're in for it. We have plenty of supplies and all the weapons we need to back us up—and quite frankly this is nothing but a soft-safari. Meaning, fun and games in jungle land!"

  "Easy for you to say!"

  "Believe me! Don't worry!"

  "I'll try,” Bob offered, without humor. “Just hope the storm warning is nothing more than ... warnings!"

  "Warning or not, don't worry, I've never lost a client ... yet!"

  "How long have you been at this?” he asked, conversationally, keeping down the sense of nervous fear. Just play out the act, Bob, he told himself. After all, you aren't a damn coward; just inexperienced.

  "Most of my life. Born here, lived here and enjoyed here!” the man announced, pointing towards the ground. “Africa has been my life."

  Impulsively, Bob asked: “Married or enjoying the swinging life of a Wild Game Hunter?"

  "You mean the Big Bwana who lands in the arms of his female clients?"

  "Well, it did cross my mind."

  "Women go for that image. That's for sure!"

  "I'd imagine."

  "Yes, I suppose you do know all about that. Sure, I enjoy what happens, when it seems a good idea. But business is business. Don't like mixing things up. But if you're wondering, I'm not married. Was once ... but that's a tired story. Have, since then, enjoyed the simple life of a Big Bwana. Good role. But, like I said, I try to keep hands off the clients. That's bad gaming."

  "Isn't life all a game!” Bob nodded. He was beginning to feel little better about the safari. He liked Barton; this was a man who automatically inspired confidence.

  "Not really. Its serious business that can end abruptly. So best to live to the hilt, as they say."

  "That can be dangerous,” Bob noted. Again the doubts needed him.

  "Yes. But simply walking down a street can be dangerous. Death cowers at every corner to crush your life—like a fly being smashed. Life is too short.” He paused, then added: “Guess you know that ... read some of your books."

  "Oh?” That startled Bob, but laughed it off with: “Hope they didn't shock you!"

  "Well ... truthful? You've colored things a bit here and there."

  "I'm exposed! Coloring reality is the name of a writer's game."

  John winked playfully at Bob. “Real or not, those books read like you've lived every bloody minute of them. Tell me, are they all that real?"

  "Well,” Bob decided to be vaguely honest, “not everything. Author's license!"

  "I suppose so. If you were to report some of the things I've seen, well, I don't think the general public would find it digestible, or commercial. I'd slant to public taste, too. Hell, we do it here. Make things seem more dangerous than they are. Come to Darkest Africa, face the savage beasts of the jungles with your bear hands and rip their hearts out!"

  They both laughed at that.

  Yes, Bob admitted, I like this guy!

  "Really that bad?” he wanted to know.

  "Hardly, but that gets customers!” he chuckled. “Gets their blood churning for blood-letting and adventure African-style! But I promise you thrills to delight the very center of your adventurous spirit!"

  Bob decided not to react to that last statement. A part of him almost thrilled to the idea of what the next days offered.

  The ground below was changing from yellowed open landscapes to jungle green. He marveled at the beauty of that view, stretching out to the very horizon where black clouds were starting to form.

  As the sky darkened, the mood inside the plane changed, becoming abruptly quiet, as if everybody awaited some horrid force to shatter the illusion of safety.

  The compartment door opened and Rita looked in, a concerned frown on her face. “Is everything okay?"

  "Sure,” Barton announced. “Just go back and enjoy the fun and games!"

  "You planning on giving us a joy ride?” she snipped, almost angry sounding.

  "Give the customers top bang for their dollars! Sure. Why not?” Barton laughed.

  "That's not funny! I'll tell you when and where and what I want for thrills!” Rita snapped. Then with a sharp laugh turned to Bob, said: “Now isn't the right, hon?"

  Bob was surprised by the sound of her voice. He merely nodded.

  "Don't worry,” Barton said, “nothing to be concerned about!"

  "Better not be. I'm paying for safe trip. I don't want any complications!” she almost threatened. “Well, none I can't handle!"

  Then she to Bob, “Having fun? And Games? Bet this is a thrill and a half for you!"

  Her laughter was cutting as she slammed the door closed.

  Barton noted: “Nice lady. You're welcomed to her!"

  A deep gloomy atmosphere pressed down upon the four whites and five blacks in the plane. Silence and fear froze over them.

  The woman's exit left a gloom over the two men. Bob felt uneasy about her continual mood changes.

  Several times the plane jerked, as if slapped. At one point lightning flashed so close that sparks seem to fly across the wing.

  Rita appeared again, this time savagely annoyed: “What's the hell's going on?"

  Bob shook his head from side to side, grimly trying to give her silent warning. She squinted at him for a moment as if in confused thought, then shrugged, “Okay, you boys handle things. You damned well, better!"

  She slammed the door, again. This time nobody commented.

  Barton, at the controls, had become tight lipped. The man kept looking at the instruments, which didn't seem to be reacting to anything. Several times he checked for weather reports. The silence in the plane only accented the silence in the world outside. Everything was waiting for the next explosion..

  Then John whispered between tightly clamped teeth: “We might have to land somewhere ... ride out the storm!"

  "You kidding?"

  "Nope.” John Barton retorted softly.

  "How much farther to where we're going?” Bob asked.

  "About three hours! Assuming we can ride this out. That is."

  Those words crushed in on Bob like a hammer. He couldn't speak and merely sat there aware of nothing but the fear eating up from his guts.

  The radio suddenly crackled alive ” ... turn back. Storm about to break in your area ... “ It faded. Died.

  Neither man said anything for a long time. The jungle was a mass of
endless green below them. It moved snail-paced under the plane.

  Then hell broke loose.

  A flash of light blinded them, coming out of nowhere. The plane seemed to toss, almost spinning before John Barton managed to right it. The man was a wonder of control and skill in the manner in which he reacted.

  Barton reached for the plane's radio mike and started speaking. It only took a few seconds to discover that the radio was totally dead.

  For about twenty minutes more they continued to fly without conversation and then finally Barton turned to Bob and yelled, “I'm going to land!"

  "Where?” The jungle seemed an endless carpet of dark green below them.

  "Look at the sky—landing is our only chance."

  As if on cue, there was a flash of lightning and a split second later, the sound of crackling thunder.

  Barton started dropping the nose of the plane.

  "You can't land down there!” Bob cried.

  "I'll have to find someplace!"

  Suddenly the plane whipped to one side and at the same time lightning flashed and thunder sounded. Abruptly, it began to rain. There was a sick creaking sound from the body of the plane.

  "Tell them—to strap in!” Barton ordered.

  Without thinking, Bob slowly stood, trying to hold down the grind of fear cramping his stomach. He moved into the passenger compartment.

  "Strap in!” he shouted. “We're going to land."

  Rita started to say something, and then white-faced seemed to think better of it, and without a word doing as the man directed.

  Bob was back in his seat a moment later, strapping himself in. Only then did he realize what he'd just done. He'd acted without thought. He wasn't even trembling.

  Maybe he wasn't some raving cowardly shit!

  Lightning flashed much too close, almost blinding them. The rain had become so heavy that they couldn't see much beyond a few hundred feet.

  Suddenly the plane was whipped as if by some invisible giant hand, and the controls were useless against the gush of wind that followed. Bob felt the world spinning. Barton cursed loudly and after a few moments of fighting the plane, he managed to regain control. Just then, another lashing wind swept them sideways and then downward.

  Bob was flung forward across the control panel. Then he was shoved savagely backwards, brutally hitting the seat with such force that his teeth jarred painfully together.

  "Hold tight!” Barton warned. “Gonna ... be bad!"

  CHAPTER THREE

  The zebra stood there in the jungle, its head bent down slightly, unaware of the danger lurking in the bushes at its side. The jungle was alive with the happy reassuring noises that brought no sense of fear to the animal. Suddenly, the jungle bushes rustled slightly as lightning broke through the branches. A nude female form leaped up onto the back of the animal.

  Steel flashed in the sunlight as the zebra bolted across the clearing. The steel flashed again, coming out of the terrified animal with a blood-red point. The tiny female figure had her golden tan legs clamped tightly against the sides of the animal. Her body, browned from years of living under the hot, tropical African sun, was leaning forward. Her slender arms swung again, in a downwards arch, cutting deep into the neck of the frightened, bleeding animal. A high-pitched, excited sound broke from her young full lips as she jerked upwards, the sun highlighted the firm, full delicate outlines of her silken smooth flesh. She bent over once more, screaming in delight as the long, six-inch blade buried itself deep into the animal's neck. This time she left it in, pulling upwards with all her strength, so that the blade cut through the quivering flesh, slicing a long red streak. The zebra stumbled, reared and crumbled to the ground.

  The young jungle savage jumped to her feet, looked down at the dead animal and then eagerly fell to her knees. She extended the knife outwards and sliding it into the flank, her lips spread into a broad smile and a tiny, delicate tongue moistened their surface as she cut away a large piece of dripping flesh.

  Quickly placing the knife into the grass rope around her waist, she gripped the meat in her strong tiny hands and then brought it up to her mouth. Savagely she chewed on the bloody meal, her eyes flashing sideways, watching, waiting, listening for the approach of any jungle enemy. Every action was swift, but with a gracefulness that would have made the leopard look startlingly awkward. That was one of the traits that had let her survive in a savage world, where death was at every turn. She had always lived in the jungle. Or so it seemed, since memory offered little else but shadowy dreams to bother sleep. She knew little more than the laws of existence that the jungle had taught her.

  Be faster than the others. Be smarter. Be more alert. And kill when necessary.

  Beyond that there were merely those strange nightmares that haunted her dreams; visions of places totally alien, where white gods and goddesses seemed to rule a white world so different from the jungle in which she lived. Tallie had always wondered about the dreamland, for it almost seemed real in a vague way. But not as real as that which presented itself in full consciousness.

  Plus there was one basic truth of existence: you paid attention to the moment, for attention directed elsewhere was certain to bring quick death. Life had always been on a now basis.

  A distant noise sounded in the sky and she looked up, startled. The sky was clear and her face relaxed. She returned her attention to the dripping, still warm, meat in her hands. Finally, when she was filled, she felt suddenly sleepy. She was always sleepy after eating. Lying down next to her kill and placing her head on its huge side, she went to sleep. Her senses remained alert and alive and ready to waken her at any possible threat of danger. Instinct and long experience prepared her for the approach of any animal eager to steal her kill. A warning snarl was usually enough to discourage any invasion of her territory—if that didn't work she would distanced herself quickly to a safer place. Like all the other jungle creatures, she never did more than half-sleep. Her mind rested, but her senses were still alert. Her body and muscles rested but not her ears and nose.

  She lay there for a long time, resting contentedly, but subconsciously alert to the sounds around her. Then a flash of lightning startled her awake. Her eyes popped open and her heart started pounding wildly. She looked up fearfully.

  Suddenly the sky started crying and her heart began beating in terror, her lovely, firm breasts heaving. She looked anxiously around her and then up at the sky once more. The first thought that passed through her primitive mind was that the gods were crying, but when the sound of thunder mixed with the flashes of lightning, she knew that it was much more than that. The gods were quite angry, spitting fire at her world.

  Terror exploded in her heart and like a frightened wild animal she leaped to her feet, rushed for the nearest tree and started through the upper terraces of the jungle, swinging lightly from branch to branch.

  The gods were at war, and when they fought, the very earth shook with terror and Tallie knew that the only way to be safe was to find the cover of her little cave. There, away from the crying tears of the goddesses as they wept in fear for their mates, she would be safe from the white fire-spears as they flew through the sky. Such spears of fire could start the jungle roaring with heat and crackling with flame.

  In minutes she had covered a quarter of a mile through the thick jungle, racing frantically to a cave not far away.

  The roar of lions, the fearful screams of scampering monkeys and other jungle creatures surrounded her as all the animals cried out in their open terror.

  Her breasts were hammering, throbbing with excited fear. She had seen many god-wars like this before and seen many horrible and terrible things happen because of the battles in the sky.

  Finally, she reached a clearing and dropped to the ground, looking to all sides, ready for any unexpected attack, then rushed across the clearing and up to the small cliff side, following a narrow pathway and turning into the darkness of a shallow cave.

  She sat down, her heart slowly regaine
d its normal tempo. Finally, she looked up at the skies, fascinated by the gigantic war taking place there. Flashes of fire-spears fell from the sky as the roar of the gods moaned in death agonies. Then there was another sound, more puzzling than anything else. It was something new to the jungle, and only a whisper above the roar of the god-battle.

  She looked skyward again, her bright blue eyes eager and alert. She brushed a long lock of golden blonde hair from her wide forehead, listened carefully. Suddenly a strange, huge bird covered the sky, just above the hill in front of her. It seemed to fall and then, roaring in terrible agony, it lurched sideways and then continued on for a while, then horrible sounds came as it dropped into distant trees.

  An edge of interest showed on her delicate, lean features. Her full lips pouted slightly and she cocked her head to one side, listening.

  What kind of bird could that be? she wondered. What strange new sky-animal had the winds brought with them?

  She had lived for many, many seasons, longer than she'd ever been able to count on her fingers, but she had never seen such a sky-creature before.

  Her heart beat faster, tightening inside her delicate chest, and curiosity welled wild in her savage mind. After the gods finish their battle, she would have to see what kind of sky-creature it was. Maybe a god! The thought excited her. Maybe a god that had been killed!

  Her lips smiled and a sound, half squeal and half laughter broke from them. Then sighing, after looking once more at the sky, she curled up on the floor of the small cave.

  There wasn't anything that she could do but wait for the god-war to stop. Then she'd go out and see the “god creature” from the skies. Right now she was tired.

  When sleep came, quickly, it brought ancient dreams back into existence. As if seen through thick fog she was aware of strange voices speaking words she could just barely understand.

  "We're not ... going to make it."

  "What'll happen to her?"