Blood Runner

by Lou Cameron

  He hesitated, decided anything else he could do with his suddenly raging erection would be just as silly, and swung himself out of the hammock. He crossed the hut in three giant steps, put a hand on each of Sor Pantera’s upthrust buttocks, and asked, “Mind if I join you?”

  Her warm derriere flinched, but she didn’t stop what she was doing, and Blanca raised her head to grin the length of the darker woman’s hairy spine as Captain Gringo positioned himself, standing like a stallion behind Sor Pantera, and thrust home.

  Sor Pantera shuddered and muttered, “¡Ay tanto toro!” but she didn’t raise her head from the Indian girl’s pink lap as she leaned into his thrusts and clamped down hard. He laughed out loud, but didn’t say why. He knew she was enjoying the perverse situation, but he didn’t think he should say her co-operative rear reminded him of a bearded toothless mouth. She was hot as hell and had astounding muscular control down there. He knew he wasn’t going to last much longer in this piquant position, and the two of them were breathing hard and faster, too. Sor Pantera started moaning like a big cat and he was just about to come when she suddenly collapsed at his feet in a ball, sobbing loudly in mindless pleasure and leaving him literally in midair.

  He found himself facing the albino girl on the swinging hammock, and she’d obviously been left out, too. She lay writhing with her pink thighs apart and her pink eyes closed, begging, “More! More! Don’t stop!”

  So he took one step, grabbed a knee in each hand, and pulled her on like a glove.

  Blanca gasped and opened her eyes as he entered her wet, turgid flesh and, still keeping his bare feet on the floor, he rocked her almost off and on as she cooperated with her hips but said, “I’m not supposed to do it with a man! I explained about witches to Sor Pantera and—”

  He grinned down at her and soothed, “I won’t tell if you won’t, honey. Don’t try to say you’re a virgin and I won’t say you’re full of crap!”

  She rolled her head from side to side, muttering complaints in her own language even as her pale breasts flushed pinker and she wrapped her shapely thighs around his waist to quiver, stiff-backed, as they came together. His legs gave out and he fell face down across her, kissing her surprised rosebud lips as she gripped his shoulder blades with her palms, slid them down each side of his spine, and dug her nails into his buttocks in a long, lingering orgasm.

  Sor Pantera sat up, gasping, “My God! You didn’t put that thing in little Blanca, did you? She told me she was forbidden to satisfy herself with the men of her tribe.”

  As she climbed in with them, Captain Gringo said, “I’m not a member of her tribe and you had her hot enough to take a railroad train to the caboose.”

  “You’ve probably gotten us both with child, you monster.”

  “Yeah, ain’t I awful? You should have told me what you girls were doing was intended as a form of birth control. I thought you were just out for a good time.”

  Sor Pantera giggled and said, “There are advantages to having a man about the house. But we must keep this a secret from the others. I do not wish to be known as a loose woman.”

  “Honey, you are tighter than Hell, but I get your message.”

  He started to move in Blanca again and Sor Pantera protested, “Hey, I thought it was my turn!”

  He said, “Come on, she’s our hostess.” But Blanca had been following the exchange and murmured, “I wish to be perverse this time. Get off and let us change positions. Sor Pantera can be on the bottom and I will take the part of the puppy.”

  He climbed out and the girls positioned themselves in the reverse of the way he’d found them, with Sor Pantera spread-eagled on the mesh and the pale, hairless rump of the albino facing him. As she lowered her white-haired head between Sor Pantera’s swarthy, hairy thighs he entered her pink, shaven genitals from the rear and started touching bottom with every stroke. It felt wild as hell. The contrast between rumps was startling, and while the Indian girl couldn’t grip the way the older woman could, she made up for it by being tighter built. It was getting quite light, now, and he knew they wouldn’t have much more time for this morning game. He hooked a hand on each of Blanca’s hipbones and let himself go. It took longer, as all three expected, but the pleasure was even greater now that they were all aroused. He had to spread his legs wide because the Indian girl’s were so short, and one of them put a hand out to play with his scrotum as he pounded her. He came first. Any man born of mortal woman would have. But he knew what they expected and kept going until Blanca climaxed and jumped off to run somewhere. He leaned forward to enter Sor Pantera as she lay spread across the hammock, and the switch of her shapely, dark, and somehow bestial torso inspired him to stay fully aroused as he once more entered the thick mat of blue-black pubic hair.

  She lay back with her spine arched and her head off the far side and he was repelled and excited at the same time by the feline reek of her writhing brown flesh. Then he saw Blanca had moved around to the space between the hammock and thatched wall and was standing facing him across the length of Sor Pantera. The Spanish woman knew without being asked what was expected of her, so, raising her arms to grip the albino’s slender form, she began to kiss Blanca between the shaved pink thighs as Captain Gringo pounded from the other end. She not only smelled sort of dirty, she liked her loving sort of dirty, but it was exciting, just the same. He felt a little better about her dumb remarks about pregnancy. The Indian girl was a practicing witch, and Sor Panera had no stretch marks on her oddly hairy belly. He knew they were both as good at taking care of themselves as they were at needing to know about such matters.

  They managed a mutually satisfactory conclusion and wound up three in a hammock, with Captain Gringo in the middle on his back and the two oddly mismatched girls on either side. He fondled them both as they cuddled their heads on his shoulders, and when one or the other began to play with him below the waist he grinned and said, “Decisions, decisions, let me get my breath back, ladies.”

  It must have been Sor Panera working on him, because Blanca said, “We haven’t time for another one. The sun is almost up and we can’t be found like this. I think we should get cleaned off and have breakfast.”

  He said, “That sounds good. I’ll race the two of you for the swimming hole outside.”

  But Blanca asked, “Are you serious? That pool is filled with piranha!”

  “I’ll bite. What’s a piranha?”

  “Little fish. And you won’t bite. They will! A most amusing thing happened to a Creole hunter near our old village a few years ago. He walked into a marching column of soldado ants and, of course, they started to climb all over him and bite. So the idiot jumped into the river to get away from the ants, and the piranha stripped him to a skeleton.”

  “You find that amusing, honey?”

  “Yes. The Creoles are a bother to my people.”

  “Don’t those little man-eating fish bother you?”

  “Of course not. Fish keep down the mosquitos, and they are very good to eat. If we wish to go into the water, we chop up certain vines and throw them in the water first. The soapy sap puts all the fish to sleep, and after we enjoy a bath we gather them for a meal. I don’t want to kill the fish here, though. As I said, they keep down the insects and we may be here for some time.”

  He nodded but didn’t answer. He’d already known from another Indian girl how the natives lived comfortably in the jungle not by fighting nature, but by understanding it. These San Bias would make great additions to the rebel cause if he could manage to recruit them.

  He asked Blanca to tell them about the white men who’d driven them from their seaside refuge, and the albino said, “We don’t know why they wanted our lagoons and offshore keys. They don’t seem to be after pearls. Usually, when Christians come to save our souls they seem most anxious about our pearls, too. They even dig up the bones of our ancestors searching for pearls we may have buried with them. Anyone can tell you pearls are worthless after a few months under damp soil.”

>   “I’d heard pearls were fragile. I’m surprised you Indians know so much about the jewelry business.”

  “What do you take us for, ignorant people? We live as we do because it is the best way. We are not unaware of the outside world. Sometimes we trade a few pearls to the few Christian schooner crews we can trust. The outside world is not all bad. Fishhooks and good stout cordage are worth trading for. I have forbidden my people to buy rum and calico, but we trade for the few things we need, when the Christians are not on the warpath.”

  “I understand about the rum. What’s so evil about calico?”

  “People make clothes of it. Even some of our own girls are foolish enough to want to look like Creole women, but the air is always damp and people get sick wearing clothes.”

  He ran a palm along her smooth flank and said, “I can see certain advantages to running bare-ass through the brush. Let’s get back to these men who invaded your fishing grounds. Were they in uniform?”

  “No. They dressed as sailors on the coasting schooners do. They took over our cove and made a camp there. Small ships come in to unload big wooden boxes. We don’t know what is in the boxes. When the white men from the sea saw some of our people looking at them they yelled and shot at them. We decided it was better to move away from the sea for now. In the days of the Iron Shirts we dwelt in these inland forests, and the wise elders have kept its secrets for us. So we would be safe, here, if other Christians didn’t get so excited and shoot at us every time they saw us.”

  He told Sor Pantera, “That accounts for the scare about an Indian invasion. Any idea who those gun runners might be working for, Sor Pantera?”

  She shrugged and said, “Not the Balboa Brigade. The American-backed rebels land their weapons rather openly on the Pacific side.”

  “That leaves Sir Basil Hakim, and I did meet him first near the north coast. But I can’t figure his plan. Isn’t the action going to be around Panama City, if and when it comes?”

  “Of course. Who holds Panama holds the isthmus. There’s hardly anyone living to the north in those coastal swamps. A few scattered villages. Some banana planters. The French completed the easy digging from that coast and ran out of men and money here in this jungle. The people who mean to finish the canal must gain control of the Culebra Mountains and the main harbor, all on the Pacific.”

  He said, “Yeah, there’s another advantage to keeping the action down that way. Any gunboats fixing to mix in would have to come all the way around the Horn. The rebels and the Colombian Army can ha.ve a nice private war before England, France, or Spain could mix into it.”

  “What about you Yanquis? The U. S. Navy has bases on the Pacific shore of your California, no?”

  “Yeah. That’s why I’d bet on the Yank-backed rebels when push comes to shove. You Balboas should try to work with them, Sor Pantera.”

  She sighed and said, “That is what our poor Spinoza said. Our other leaders were impatient. Nobody in Panama wants to live under the far-off government in Colombia. But the other rebel groups seem to be playing a waiting game.”

  “They may be playing it smart. If they ever get the open backing of the U. S. Navy, they’ll take Panama at a walk. Nobody else will argue the point, and the Colombians probably won’t risk transporting a real army by sea with U. S. gunboats offshore.”

  “That is what Spinoza said, but why is it taking your country so long? Americans already own the railroad and most of the businesses in the place!”

  “It’s not exactly my country anymore, and you just answered part of your own question, Sor Pantera. Washington has some loose ends to clear up, closer to home, before it dabbles in Panama with its gunboats. Spain still holds Cuba, just off the tip of Florida. Mexico is in turmoil. Meanwhile, Americans are buying up stock from the defunct Suez Society and getting in on the ground floor. I’d say Uncle Sam should toss his hat in the ring before this century’s out, and we’re coming up on No. 20 fast. If I were you, I’d sit tight until the Yanks and Spanish settle the Cuban problem, then start waving lots of flags.”

  “Pooh, we don’t want to be Yanqui puppets. I thought you wanted to help us have our revolution now!”

  “Relax. I’m not deserting. For one thing, I haven’t any place better to go. But we’ve gotten past winning your revolution, Sor Pantera. If we’re lucky, we may live to see the way it all turns out. I’m trying to keep us all alive long enough to see if we can find out who betrayed you and what the hell’s going on to our north.”

  He patted Blanca’s shoulder and asked, “Could you get your tribe to help us, honey?”

  She kissed his chest and asked, “Why should they? I only understand a little of what the two of you just said. I don’t want anyone to build a canal through here. We are having enough trouble with the Christians already living here!”

  “You want your pearl beds back, don’t you? If you’ll help us, we might be able to drive away the men who stole your islands.”

  “That would be nice. But how could we be certain others as bad might not come?”

  He didn’t answer. He was starting to see that the pink little witch was a lot smarter than she looked, and lying to her could be dangerous. So he decided not to talk about other Indian reserves he knew about. The Apache had asked similar questions not long ago.

  That’s where he’d learned to use a machine gun.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The flatcars loaded with hardwood ties lay scattered on both sides and across the tracks in the morning sun. The runaway engine had backed into a curving cut doing nearly sixty, and the results had been horrendous. The right of way was completely blocked, and it promised to stay that way for at least twenty-four hours.

  A group of men stood morosely on the rear platform of a train backed over the Culebras from the city. One wore the uniform of the Colombian armed forces. Another was a disgruntled American railroad official in a rumpled white suit. The other two men with them were Greystoke, from British Intelligence, and Sir Basil Hakim. The little arms merchant was smoking an expensive cigar and seemed less excited about the wreck than the others.

  Greystoke was wondering about this, but didn’t ask. Sir Basil had been decent enough to send his female agent back well ravaged but otherwise unharmed, and British Intelligence knew Hakim lied for practice as well as to conceal his murky business dealings.

  The American railroader was most excited. His name was Brown and he felt he had good reason, since he was the only one there losing money by the minute. He stared to the north along the track where a distant plume of coal smoke hovered beyond the wreckage and said, “Jesus, we’ve got our work crane on one side of the pile-up and our repair gear on this side. We’re going to have to manhandle shit through the trees and, meanwhile, no traffic can move either way. I thought you said you guys had all the rebels rounded up, Colonel Maldonado!”

  The officer shrugged and said, “A few always slip into the back country to join the bandits. I am not at all sure this wreck was the work of our pathetic Balboa Brigade. One of your railroad crewmen remembers the name Garcia being mentioned.”

  “So what? Garcia is a common name down here, Colonel.”

  “Perhaps so. The much larger Cuban Liberation Army is said to be commanded by a man named Garcia. Backed by American money. A rather unusual state of affairs, is it not?”

  The American protested, “Hey, you’re not suggesting we wrecked our own train, are you?”

  “I’m not sure what I’m suggesting, Señor Brown. Frankly, I am most confused. I doubt if the ragtag gang we chased over the Culebras made it this far. There was a terrible flash flood in the valley they were last seen crossing. Some of our own trained soldiers were swept away, and they were downstream from the rebels. Your railroad has been put out of commission by professionals, and the Cuban, Garcia, is said to be good at guerrilla warfare.”

  Greystoke said, “I can assure you the Cuban rebels are quite busy with the Spanish at the moment, Colonel Maldonado.”

  But Maldo
nado shrugged and said, “You told us we had all the addresses of the Balboa Brigade, too. Sir Basil, here, told us they only had one machine gun.”

  The Colombian officer pursed his lips and added, “My forward patrols reported at least two. They were caught in a crossfire and cut up rather badly.”

  Hakim said, “They only stole one Maxim from me, Colonel. But as I keep telling you, the Maxim is a most superior weapon. No doubt your troops were confused by its rapid rate of fire.”

  “Do you take my men for bewildered peones? I tell you, they were hit by at least two machine-gun crews. One pinned them down, Then, as they moved in on it, another opened up on their flank and nearly wiped them out.”

  “Perhaps they moved one gun?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Nobody moves a heavy weapon around that fast. And please do not mention your tiresome Captain Gringo’s awesome skills to me again! I have spoken to my own weapons officers about his legendary ability to shoot a machine gun from the hip. I have been assured such a feat is a physical impossibility. My men finally overran the first machine-gun nest and found a quite normal tripod mount in place there. One may assume the second gun was mounted the same way, since its fire was most effective.”

  Brown said, “Look, I don’t care who did it or how many guns they might be packing. What’s this bullshit about Cubans?”

  Maldonado said, “I wish I knew. Why don’t you explain it to me, Senor Brown? Everyone knows you Yanquis are backing Garcia and our own Panamanian rebels.”

  “Aw, shit, Colonel, I don’t know beans about what the big boys on Wall Street have in mind. I’m just trying to run a railroad. If any Americans are behind this wreck, Commodore Vanderbilt better not find out about it!”

  Greystoke nodded and said, “I’m sure there’s another Garcia in the local rebel band. Colombia is not allied with Spain. Cuban rebels would have no reason to be operating down here.”

  Maldonado looked at Hakim and asked, “What do you think, Sir Basil? You have more irons in any fire than I consider civilized, but I’ve never caught you in an outright lie.”