CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Carol felt cold inside. It didn't seem possible that Rita Bentley could be dead. It had happened so fast, so unexpectedly. She could hear John Barton covering Rita's unmarked grave. Carol found it hard to keep the choked sensation of tears from her eyes and throat.
I'm being a baby!
The scraping of earth stopped and John Barton walked toward Carol.
"It's over,” he said, simply.
Soon the two of them might end up dead, without any grave to protect their bodies from the savage jungle beasts.
Neither of them moved for a long, long time. Finally Carol said: “What could have caused her to do a thing like that?"
Barton shrugged. “Damned if I know. She did it on purpose—I mean, falling into the spear point—wanting to die!” His voice was full, lower than normal, a little shaky. “God-darn if I know."
He was now standing so close to her. Carol hadn't even been aware of standing to meet him. Yet at that moment they were so close they could easily touch one another. The thought of being held close to him was overwhelming. She never knew exactly how it happened, but his arms were around her, and she was thrillingly hugging tightly to the man. His firm body was like steel fire, making her heady with sudden desire, almost drunk with it. How easy to just strip naked and let him ravish her. Rita was dead. They were alive. Life could be ripped away in one bold stroke. Morality be damned.
All that counted was this moment, this frantic desperate mutual need, beyond which nothing else mattered.
She saw the driving desire in his eyes as they looked down into hers, a powerful force eating over every nerve like some liquid fire.
It was happening too fast to even think.
He drew her closer, and she lifted her parted lips in hunger, wanting to feast on his. She felt the world slipping away, turning into a sea of sensations without any real shape or form, only the endless pleasure flushing over every nerve. His hands and lips seemed to flow over her flesh, lingering, tasting and thrillingly discovering a sense of her.
Carol was totally drown in the pleasure of his search along the sensitive nerves, the tender caressing that drove her further and further from the horrors to the wondrous joy of being completely possessed by this devouring male beast! Oh, she loved it! She loved him. She wanted to scream that into the world, but only moaned in delirious pleasure. She was swimming in that eternity of joyous ecstasy in his arms, without even knowing what their bodies were doing, other than being so close, so near, so flushed with mutual wanting, desire and fulfillment. She had never wanted anything more in her life! Just escape in his wonderful embrace.
Carol was aware of the moment of penetration and after that only of the continual wave upon wave of joy that raged through her again and again, driving her further and further down an endless whirlpool of sensations that were totally overwhelming beyond anything she had ever imagined. In the final moments it was a complete fusion of their bodies. The aftermath came slowly in lingering waves.
She didn't know how much time it took to refocus her mind from the wonderful pleasure of being held in this man's arms and the sense of security she'd known during those amazing moments.
The murmur of jungle birds fluttered through the air. It was the only sound for a long, long time other than their breathing.
Then another sound caught Carol's attention. At first she couldn't identify it. Then, it grew louder.
John Barton stood, looked up into the sky.
The sound came closer.
"A plane!” Carol shouted, her fingers gripping Barton's arm.
"No ... more like a copter!” His voice was bright, excited sounding; there was hope in it for the first time in days.
They stood there for a moment longer and then John Barton turned, faced Carol.
"There's a chance,” he told her in an even voice. “A small chance. They might—they'll find the crashed plane, then possibly come down, investigate ... we have to take the chance they'll wait ... come!"
They dressed without so much as a comment as to what had happened between them. It was as if that prolonged shared mating was so natural that neither needed to explain or excuse those actions. What it might mean for the future was not the concern of the moment.
Without waiting for her to say or do anything, John took hold of her hand and headed in the direction the copter had been going. When the copter seemed to circle, the sound fading and swelling, fading and swelling, Barton stood, listened carefully and then changed their course into a more easterly direction, toward the circling copter. Then suddenly the sound faded and cut out.
"They've found the plane,” he told Carol, holding back the branch of a bush so that she was able to go through the underbrush without being hit in the face.
They half ran, where possible, went at an agonizingly slow pace when the jungle was too thick to allow a faster pace.
Insects buzzed around their sweating faces and they swatted at the hungry creatures that kept coming back and back and back.
The minutes dragged into eternities. It was an endless world of jungle, insects, heat, underbrush and the desperate hope that they would somehow find the rescue party still at the plane crash site; an impossible hope to which two desperate humans were racing against time to make come true.
Barton was always in the lead, his hand held the spear—the one which had taken the life of Rita Bentley, ready for an emergency which might unexpectedly come.
The sun moved across the sky, baking down upon the torrid lands like a gigantic heater, burning the flesh, squeezing it dry. Sweat would break out over their flesh only to sizzle away.
Carol's mouth was dry, a large desert, her muscles almost exhausted to the point where it seemed impossible to make the next step. But she managed the impossible.
Only one more step, she would tell herself, just one more and then another.
She didn't think about the distance they were attempting to cover as fast as possible. She didn't worry about the dangers which might lie between them and their destination—or the amount of steps they had already taken. All she thought about was taking that next step. She attempted to ignore the insects and the heat and the exhaustion.
Then, suddenly, she stumbled, fell. She tried to move, but couldn't; attempted to get to her feet, but not a muscle would move.
"John!” she managed to moan in a weak voice.
The man stopped, turned, moved to her, then suddenly picked her up in his arms, and continued through the underbrush.
"You can't do this!” Carol told him.
"Quiet!"
"Leave me here."
"Shut up!"
The man staggered through the underbrush, always, instinctively managing to keep in the same direction.
For a long time he continued to carry her, continued to move toward their destination. And finally she found herself so aware of his naked flesh against her own. He was powerfully built; the muscles of his chest and arms thrilling hard, undulating against her. She could feel his heart beating. She was alive with so much longing and desire caused by all these sensations. Carol feasted on every moment, dreaming of being once again made passionate love to by this strong, desirable male animal. It was in this dreamlike state that she found herself floating, almost half asleep, as he continued to carry her through the jungle. Her own arms had slipped about his neck and she remembered what it had been like with him captured so deeply within her embrace. How she longed for him again!
Those thoughts drifted after a while as semi-consciousness rocked her almost to sleep.
The sun dipped low, close to the horizon before John Barton finally came to a stop, exhausted. What had kept him going that long Carol would never know.
They settled down by a tree trunk, Barton gathered small twigs, started a fire, put several pieces of wood in the flames and they fell exhausted onto the ground.
Carol watched the man. He fell asleep almost immediately. She caressed him with her eyes, taking in the strong, hard m
uscles on his back, shoulders and arms. It had been wonderful being held in those arms, feeling the hard muscles play against her.
She wasn't aware she had fallen asleep, but suddenly she was wide-awake, and it was completely dark. How long she had slept, she didn't know. Groggily she lay there, her head braced against the tree, trying to think, trying to realize that there was hope, to convince herself they actually had a chance. But it seemed almost as if they were drowning people reaching out for a straw that couldn't possibly hold their weight. The copter and all the hope it brought would certainly lift away, unknowingly leaving them behind to face death. Or, maybe they'd make it there in time. If not, John Barton would be the last white man in her life. The two of them would be trapped in this jungle for the rest of their lives, together. That thought strangely enough wasn't as horrifying as she'd have imagined. Being with John was hardly undesirable. She moved closer to him. The awareness of very real longing and need soothed her, blanketed the more realistic fears. Her mind drifted, then she was aware of the man's body pressing closer to hers.
"John,” was all she said, eyes not even opening, though her lips were half parted.
"You're so ... beautiful!” he murmured, then suddenly he folded himself totally around her. There was no uncertain hesitation. John Barton simply took her as a lover might, confident in her total submission to his need.
Neither of them spoke words, but the sounds that uttered from deep within them became a melody of love.
For now, surely, then where true lovers.
When Carol fell asleep again, it was with a sense that the man really wanted her as much as she wanted him. That first time had not been a mere accident, a mere mutual sharing of momentary need. How long the need might last was impossible to tell. But for the moment they were committed to a relationship that might not have much of a future, but was mutually shared.
The next morning they again said nothing about their lovemaking, but did share a momentary embrace, a lover's kiss, before starting off through the jungle.
* * * *
And while Carol Hill and John Barton were racing against time and against hope toward the plane crash, that afternoon Bob Lake and Tallie made their way through the jungle in a straight line toward the crash site. To Bob, each step seemed to take forever. To Tallie it was annoying to her to be forced into walking through the underbrush when she would make far better time in the trees.
The sun went across the heavens and then tumbled down to the horizon. Just as it started to get dark, Tallie squeezed Bob's fingers, smiled, and pointed through the underbrush.
There before them, some twenty feet away was a flickering fire.
Bob felt his heart jump into his mouth, and then like a man saved in the last moment from horrible death, he leaped forward, rushing through the underbrush, leaves slamming his face, small branches cutting his legs and chest and arms. But he felt nothing other than the insane joy of what he was seeing.
He broke into the clearing, fairly laughing with happiness, and then came to a stop in front of the fire, falling exhaustedly.
"Thank God!” he moaned to the two men sitting by the fire. “Thank God!"
They leaped to their feet. “Where are the others?” one asked.
Bob shook his head. “I don't know. Somewhere in that blasted jungle!"
For a moment they looked at one another and then the tall, gray haired man, said: “I'm Allen Gordon—Barton's partner—and this is Eddy Eisen.” He pointed to the young, sandy haired man by his side. “We thought it better to stay the day and night ... just on the off chance. What happened?"
Like a child, Bob started telling the story of their adventure. Then he remembered Tallie.
Stopping, Bob suddenly turned, searched the jungle around the clearing.
"Tallie! Tallie! Tallie!” he screamed, suddenly frightened that he would never see her again. And he knew at that moment he how much he needed Tallie; he wanted to be with her for the rest of his life.
Rational or not; that was his total conviction. Book be damned!
Hope crushed away. Then there was rustling in the tree above the clearing and Tallie swung down onto the ground, smiling. She came over to him and hugged close, as if frightened or bashful. Bob put an arm around her. He wanted to kiss her, to tell her how much she meant to him, to make love to her.
But there wasn't anything he could do other than smile and hold her.
After a moment he continued his story, telling about their capture by the natives and the escape. He ended with:
"If they're alive ... they have to be out there somewhere!” Allen Gordon nodded. His wrinkled face lined tight, thoughtful, his eyes became distant. “I'm surprised at John—he should have stayed here!"
"He wanted to ... but we out-voted him."
Again Gordon nodded. “When we didn't hear from you ... well we started searching. Believe me—that's a job. First you have to go over the same line of flight and—well, we were just lucky. We decided to stay this day and night, then tomorrow give it a go in the air, searching for any sign of you, hoping the engines would attract your attention."
"They attracted my attention this morning—that's why I'm here now. Maybe they'll...” Bob swayed, his voice faded and died, his vision was suddenly blurry. Exhaustion had suddenly set in,
"How about a snort?” Eddy Eisen offered, pulling a half empty bottle of whiskey from the camping bag.
Bob nodded, took the bottle, gulped. The liquor tasted strange; almost unwanted. At the same time a slow sense of well-being set in to his exhausted nerves. At least, for now, he'd needed that.
Then he sat down again, close to the fire. Tallie sat next to him, warming herself with the flames. If he could have her, he'd need to cut down on the boozing.
That thought was surprisingly embraced without any hesitation. Bob realized that a major change had altered his thinking about life.
The two other men hadn't been able to keep their eyes off Tallie for some time.
"A striking girl,” Gordon announced, while openly admiring her nude young body so brazenly offered for all to see.
Bob felt a wave of jealousy shoot through him. Suddenly he wanted to cover Tallie's nakedness so that the other men couldn't see her. But that would be impossible and silly, he realized. Clothing or nakedness really didn't mean much here in the jungle; but it would when they got back to civilization.
For some time the two men questioned him about Tallie and then wondered between themselves the same things Bob had been wondering about. How could a girl like Tallie possibly have survived in the jungle? Where had she come from? It was a mystery that couldn't possibly be solved until she'd learned to speak—and maybe not even then.
One thing he determined to do was take her to civilization with him. The very idea of what the modern world would seem to such a primitive little savage, who hadn't ever seen anything other than the jungle, intrigued and fascinated him. Everything would be new to her. Was it possible for such a creature to survive in that world?
Never mind that, Bob, he told himself. Things will work out, even if I have to bring her back here and—what?
Could he leave her now forever lost to him?
The very thought was disgusting. Somehow things would work out, he told himself with conviction.
The drink had picked Bob's strength up a little, but after a while the exhaustion ebbed back into place and suddenly he felt his head spinning with disconnected thought. He slumped. The last thing he heard was Gordon's voice saying: “The poor devil, what he must have gone through."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Bob awoke refreshed. The sun was baking down upon his body, warming through his nerves, soothing the still tender flesh where the natives had tortured him.
The first thing he was aware of was the smell of frying eggs and bacon. The aroma sharpened his sense of hunger. He opened his eyes.
Gordon and Eisen were sitting by the fire, waiting over the frying pan.
"Hungry?” Gordon inquire
d.
"Starved!” Bob sat up. Then sudden fear jarred him. Tallie wasn't anywhere in sight.
"Where's the girl?” Bob cried, standing.
"She went off ... sometime ago—I don't know where,” Gordon told him. “We tried to stop her, but it didn't do any good."
Bob thought that over for a moment and then realized that she had probably gone off to gather breakfast, as she had the day before. A thin smile broke his lips at the thought of Tallie uselessly looking for food, when there was no doubt plenty for all in Gordon's supply. So much for her to learn! And he'd teach her everything she needed to know!
"What are the plans for today?” Bob inquired a few moments later as Gordon handed him a metal plate with three fried eggs and four thick slices of bacon. It seemed like the grandest meal in the most expensive restaurant in New York to Bob.
"Think we might take the copter up for a while, and then ... look around for some sign of the three. They can't be too far, considering what you told me,” Gordon said. “One of us should stay here, just in case they show."
"I'll stay put. Tallie might not be back by the time you guys want to take off.” Bob hesitated. “How much of a chance do you think we have?"
"To find them?” Gordon shrugged. “It's a thick jung1e. We have to hope they'll find us—or find a way to let us know where they are. Barton should think of something ... and—"
The twanging of an arrow, thudding into Gordon's plate of food, cut off his words.
The two leaped for their guns, as Bob flattened himself against the ground. The old fears teased him, then flooded away as his eyes searched for the threatening danger.
* * * *
Tallie had been happily moving through the middle terrace of the jungle trees, freed of the confining underbrush that had slowed her progress the day before with Bob Lake. She was happier than she'd ever been in all her life. Never before had she known such a wonderful thing could happen to her. If Tallie had known about love, and understood it, she would have understood the emotion she was experiencing. In a strange way they had bonded in their mating games—and she understood something about the need of one person for another of their kind.
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