The Skin Worshipper

by RB Schalin

Chapter 21

  The following morning Julia is awake as the sun comes up. Laka is around preparing breakfast for himself, there are several fruits on a leaf and what looks like roots. He offers it to her, but she declines pointing at the tent.

  When she sticks in her head, she is met by the awful smell of old socks and dirty men.

  "Hey, wake up guys," she says and then pulls out her head.

  Hogan is first to come out, he stretches his long body and then sighs. Looking at Laka he says, "that looks like a very healthy breakfast, do we have anything?"

  "Yeah, in my backpack there is some dried fruit and cold canned food."

  Hogan finds two packages of dried fruit which he eats quickly, and by the time he is done Kerry comes out. "Jesus, I slept badly, the ground is uneven and I bet it slopes downwards, because my head feels like it contained all the blood in my body.

  They clean up and pack the tent and take off after Laka, who as usual is going too fast for them, the only thing holding him back is the constant hacking at the jungle.

  After a few hours they reach the top of yet another hill, and Hogan finds a tree which he says he will climb to look around.

  "Be careful, if you fall and break something we will leave you to the insects, just for being stupid," says Kerry, looking up at him as he climbs the thick branches. Laka is sitting on his haunches looking up at the man climbing the tree. He is slowly shaking his head like if he was saying the man is an idiot. Julia has to agree and when there is a snapping sound and they hear Hogan swear her heart skips a beat expecting to see him fall to the ground, but nothing happens.

  After what feels like an eternity, he comes down and jumps to the ground.

  "What did you see?" asks Kerry.

  "Jungle and more jungle."

  "Oh, OK, that was informative," says Kerry and sighs.

  "Wait, I did see something interesting. It looks like if we are on the edge of a volcano."

  "There are no volcanoes around here," says Kerry in an irritated voice.

  "I know, and I didn’t say there were, all I said was that it looks like it. What I meant was that there is a circular ridge, and we are on top of it. I’d guess it’s about two or three miles across to the other side."

  "So?"

  Julia clears her throat and says, "Kerry, remember what the old man said, that the town had disappeared during an earthquake. If it did swallow a whole town, could it also have pushed up the earth, creating a circular crater?"

  Kerry is quiet for a while, and then he says, "you are right, it could. That would mean we are close to where the town should be."

  "Exactly, I think if we head down the side and then walk towards the other side, we would be in the middle of the ridge on our side. If we walk another mile and a half we should be at the center of the crater."

  "And that’s where we should start looking," adds Julia excitedly.

  Kerry nods his head, and says, "I knew I took you guys with me for a reason other than company, let’s get a move on."

  Julia tries to explain to Laka where they want to go by drawing in the soft ground, he nods like if he understands and they set off again.

  Going down is a lot easier than going up, and the other side of the ridge is not as steep and for some reason the jungle isn’t as dense. There is almost no need for the machete and they make good time. When they reach the bottom, it’s late afternoon and they decide to stay there for the night, starting what they hope is there final leg early the following morning.

  They find a clearing close to a small river and Kerry points out that this could be the river in the old man's story. It’s no more than twenty yards across, and shallow. The water is crystal clear and cool. They set up their tents, and this time Julia has her own. They bathe in the river, and the water is very refreshing and while Laka sits by the river bank looking at them, they splash water and scream like kids. When they come out Laka is gone, but after a while he appears again carrying what looks like a small pig.

  "Wow, looks like we are in for a feast tonight, " says Hogan while watching Laka start a fire to roast the pig.

  After eating they sit around the fire and talk about how to organize the search the following day. Laka is close by smoking his cigarette, but when he offers it to Julia she declines, making a circle with her finger to the side of her head. Laka laughs, and nods.

  "I see you shared a joint with our guide last night," says Kerry with a grin.

  "Yeah, he offered me some, but I don’t think it was weed, it was something a lot stronger. The funny thing is, I felt very good in the morning, my head was clear and I felt relaxed."

  "Mm, just be careful trying what he offers, our bodies are not used to the plants that grow here, and we don’t want you to OD or have a bad trip, OK," says Hogan.

  "OK, I’ll be careful," says Julia, feeling a bit stupid.

  "I figure the best thing to do tomorrow is to walk a grid over the area. The jungle here is not as dense as before, and we should be able to walk it in a straight line. I suggest ten yards between each of us. We will be within eyesight and communication. Look for anything on the ground that could have been man made, a wall, stones in formations, or even tools, like stone knives and axes."

  They all sleep deeply that night, the ground is flat and they all have plenty of space. Outside, Laka is keeping watch, but he is not comfortable, there are no night sounds, it’s like the insects are not there, and it makes his skin creep. The air is still, and a big moon shines down on him. He smokes as usual and for a moment he thinks he is seeing things, which sometimes he does, but he swears there are shadows moving around him. At first he blames it on the fire, but the shadows don’t move like that, they move more organized, like if they were getting closer to the camp site. Suddenly he doesn’t see them any more, they have disappeared into the jungle. He grabs his machete and holds it hard, and his knuckles turn white. He is scared, and decides that he will leave tomorrow. He will try to take the foreigners with him, but if they want to stay, it’s their deaths. He is sure he will die if he spends another night in this place.

  From inside the jungle several pairs of eyes are watching the lone Indian by the camp fire. They talk in whispers and wonder what he is doing there. Usually they have to walk for days to find other human beings to hunt, but this night, the prey has come to them. The white people in the tent make them shake with excitement. They have never seen one, only heard stories about them from the elders. How they scream different than the other brown people in the jungle. Their screams make the song of the skin better, clearer and more beautiful, and are sure to please the god. They decide to move back underground, their prey will still be there in the morning.

  The last one to disappear into the ground pulls a cover over the hole, and from above, there is no way to tell there is a door leading down. They scurry along tunnels passing ruins of old houses and streets. Then they turn left and right hurrying along another tunnel until they see the light.

  There is a big room, it used to be a house, but now it’s just a space. In the ceiling there are thick beams made of mahogany keeping the earth from falling down on them. Around a blazing fire are at least thirty people, short with narrow faces and flat noses. Their nostrils twitch as they look at the band of hunters who have just come from above. They tell the group what they have seen and they all become excited. It has been months since they caught a prey and now they have four.

  An old man sitting on a log says something, and the rest quiet down. He is very old, and has seen many things, he warns the younger men to be careful with the white people, they have weapons that can kill at a long distance and that make terrible sounds. They are big, and strong, and very clever. The young men say they are not afraid and can move like shadows among the trees.

  The old man nods his head, but continues to warn them to be cautious, to be careful, and don’t underestimate the enemy.

  As he lets the young men plan the attack, the old man looks beyond the fire and there against the wall
are several statues. They are made from branches tied together by rope made from plants. They have a human form, with a head, arms, and legs. Strapped to them are skins, now rotten and old. But when he looks carefully, he can still see the form of a nose, an eye socket and fingers. He smiles, soon he will hear the music again, the sound that pleases the god who a long time ago let his proud people almost die. He stands up and walks around the fire up to the closest statue and touches the skin. It’s hard and brittle, like dried leather. His fingers run along what used to be an arm, up towards the neck, and then further up to the head. He remembers this one, even though it was more than thirty summers ago. He had been close to a river, many days walk from their hideout. He had come upon a group of people, three white and two Indians. He and his friend had waited for the night, and snuck into the camp. They had chosen this one, because she was small, no more than a child. They had killed the others swiftly with poisoned arrows, and then dragged the screaming child back to their hideout. There they had given her a juice made from fruits and other plants and she fell asleep so they could easily carry her back.

  When she woke up, she was tied to the sacrificial structure, she was hanging from ropes attached to her wrists and ankles, and there was a noose around her neck. As his people gathered around the structure, the child screamed in a language they didn’t understand. The old man had ripped off her clothes, and exposed her body. She had developed breasts and there was a patch of pubic hair. He decided she was older than he had first thought.

  When he made the first long cut from the base of her neck down to the end of her spine, she passed out and only woke up when he began tearing the skin of her back with small incisions while two men pulled the skin away from her body starting at her spine and moving out. As she screamed he lifted his head and sang along with her, using ancient words that only he knew, and he hoped they would please the god. The crowd watching was humming and somewhere drums began to beat as the girl began to scream even louder. When she became quiet and limp, most of the skin from her torso and arms was hanging around her hips.

  Looking at the statue the old man smiles and walks back to the fire. The group has disappeared and he is left alone with his memories of the different songs he has heard during his lifetime.