The Valley of Tooth & Claw

by Chris McInally

  “Does anybody have a contact?” Elias shouted, his voice shaking slightly. “C’mon, talk to me people!” he bawled into his mic.

  “Negative!” was the reply trickling in from his subordinates, the word repeated over and over in his ear.

  Still, things didn’t remain static for long. Rather, they were set to get much worse for Campbell and his men. With the element of surprise lost, the second phase of the ambush was put into rapid effect. A chorus of frenzied howls˗ deafening war cries, actually˗ sounded left and right, filling the air. This was followed by dozens of lithe, ochre bodies spilling forth from the nest of foliage! Racing towards his team, armed with an assortment of primitive weapons, namely axes, clubs and spears, were what Campbell’s mind told him had to be the warriors of some long-lost Amazonian tribe.

  Natives… Elias’ stomach dropped. His suspicions were correct. One (or possibly more) of the indigenous tribes had set a trap for them. Worst of all, he and his men had walked right into it.

  Initially Campbell thought the figures were naked. That was until his mind registered the presence of their tattered loincloths. Multicolored beads decorated the men’s tawny bodies as well, wrapped tightly around their stringy necks and sculpted biceps. For added effect, the warriors’ faces were decorated with an array of charcoal warpaint akin to Elias’ own Pictish ancestors. Most terrifying of all however, were the sharpened animal bones (or were they teeth?) protruding from their cheeks and even noses in some cases.

  Despite their outdated arsenal, the onyx-haired screamers were nothing short of imposing. Indeed, poor Campbell nearly choked when he witnessed the first of the natives rush forth from the brush, the crudely fashioned blade of the man’s axe glinting ominously in the sunlight.

  “Contact!” the merc’s gruff voice boomed as he peered disbelievingly into the mixed tapestry of foliage and oncoming flesh. “Three o’clock!” he signaled. “Watch your six!” Campbell added for good measure.

  A split-second later the Scotsman’s weapon blazed to life, its nozzle sparking! Elias’ subordinates followed his lead, each man picking his target with tactical precision. A squall of hot lead zipped through the air; the resulting cacophony almost unimaginable in its ferocity.

  Craaack˗craaack˗craaack! Shots sounded helter-skelter, the metallic rhythm broken but still very much deadly. Craaack˗craaack!

  Figure after figure collapsed, countless shrieking natives mowed down in what was only a matter of a few decidedly bloody seconds. Still, the warriors kept coming, their number seemingly legion. To Campbell’s horror, the tribesmen proved unfazed by their adversaries’ superior weaponry. Instead, the oncoming tide of warriors simply continued their courageous advance unabated, staring death squarely and resolutely in the face! Elias understood in that moment these individuals had heart. And lots of it. But he knew so too did his own troops. In spite of the imposing waves of tribesmen closing on them˗ from both flanks, no less˗ the hired guns held their ground. Just as they were trained to do. Unwavering in the face of adversity, they did what mercenaries do best˗ kill. And kill mercilessly they did. What followed was nothing short of a slaughter, damn-near biblical in proportion.

  Like the ill-fated Jacobites at Culloden Muir, the advancing Amazonians fell under the murderous volleys from their enemies. Bullets continued to cut through the air, fast and unforgiving, working to punch gaping holes in the indigenous ranks! The result saw blood erupt in myriad gouts up and down the tribal lines! Again and again, warrior after fearless warrior toppled either wounded or dead. Still, the incensed natives pushed on, determined to satiate their bloodlust and defend their homeland against this incursion.

  Nevertheless, Amazons continuing to bear down on him, Campbell squeezed his trigger alongside his men. He watched as four of his rounds bored brutally into an approaching tribesman’s red-brown chest, shredding it in a flurry of scarlet, treacle-like gore! Just like that, the warrior was dead. Collapsing at the rainforest’s edge, he went down with a pathetic yelp, his essence extinguished.

  Civilians… Elias’ mind prompted him out of nowhere. Check on the civvies.

  In between loosing shots, Elias tweaked his neck. Searching for Professor Miller, he hoped in the back of his mind she had retreated to the safety of her vehicle. He was gravely mistaken. In fact, the woman had barely moved from her spot at all.

  Bloody civvies… Campbell thought inwardly. Can’t take ‘em anywhere.

  Clearly terrified out of her mind, the professor was crumpled up against the side of her group’s Chevrolet. Hugging at the vehicle’s wheel-arch, the woman was shrieking in terror the whole time, paralyzed with fear.

  “Get inside the truck for God’s sake!” Elias roared at her.

  Trapped in her panic, and no doubt drowned out by the noise as well, the woman didn’t hear him.

  “Jesus…” the commander breathed, the frustration spilling out of him.

  Then, catching movement off to his left, Elias pivoted to find Trevon, the man’s AR-15 rattling with a vengeance. With a quick burst, Latham stopped two Amazons dead in their tracks, the duo poised mere feet from him!

  “Trey!” Campbell called to his teammate. “Get Professor Miller back inside her transport!” he pointed to her crumpled, mewling form. “She may as well have a bloody bullseye painted on her back!”

  “I’m on it!” Latham nodded before taking off in the professor’s direction.

  #

  While the world around her went to shit, Kate Miller froze on the spot. Well, that’s not entirely true. Not thinking, and very much in shock, she collapsed against the side of the black-bodied Chevrolet. Then she froze, but only after attempting to bury her frame in between one of its huge tires and the adjoining wheel-arch, as if that would somehow save her from the savagery being played out around her.

  Pandemonium reigned supreme with tribesmen screaming, guns barking, and men on both sides dying. It was madness. Sheer, unadulterated madness. Worst of all, there was Professor Kate Miller right in the thick of it. A sitting duck… just waiting.

  All of a sudden, a figure appeared before her. The geographer felt her blood run cold in that instant. Slender but decidedly muscular, the bare-chested individual stared down at her, his features partially hidden behind a mask of charcoal warpaint! It was one of their ambushers and the look in the native’s eyes was one of a mad man. Kate’s presence alone seemed to incense him beyond measure.

  “Oh, God!” Kate raised her hands in a paltry attempt to protect herself. “Please, don’t hurt me!” she pleaded. “Please!”

  Needless to say, the tribesman paid her pleas no mind. Axe held high, the warrior’s body twisted as he prepared to bring the sheening weapon down on her head, his eyes brimming with bloodlust˗

  Craaack˗craaack!

  Two craters appeared dead-center in the man’s chest, cherry-red blood rushing forth from the ugly, furrowed wounds! Falling backwards, he quickly disappeared out of Kate’s line of sight. Then, out of nowhere it seemed, Trevon Latham arrived, offering Professor Miller a large ebony hand.

  “Get up!” he ordered the stunned woman, all sense of decorum and chivalry gone in the moment. “We don’t have time to lose. We have to get you somewhere safe.”

  Wrenching Professor Miller to her feet, Latham dragged the bewildered woman to the truck’s rear passenger-side door.

  “Get in!” Trevon commanded before pushing her.

  Virtually thrown into the vehicle, Kate landed awkwardly, sprawled on her front across the backseat, ass up in the air. At the same time, Greg and Sienna were calling out excitedly, startled by her abrupt appearance.

  Flipping herself over onto her rump, Kate looked back to see Trevon moving to slam the door shut when whack! a club, wooden, thick and heavy, connected with the side of the unsuspecting man’s head! Latham dropped on the spot, his big frame vanishing altogether, like that of the would-be killer before him.

  “Tre˗” the man’s name died in Professor Miller’s throat.

 
To her horror, another Amazon appeared by the truck’s door, his lithesome figure looming threateningly into view. His eyes, black as night, fixed in on Kate. The professor didn’t so much hear as feel the scream of terror expelled from her throat then. Even so, the sound was high and frantic and full of fright for those that did hear it. Drawing nearer, the tribesman extended a stringy arm, his long, claw-like fingers wrapping around one of Kate’s waiting ankles! At the same time, a maniacal sneer inched over his thin lips, the Amazon seemingly reveling in the woman’s dread. Yellow, unkempt teeth emerged as his purple lips peeled back like a hungry vampire’s.

  “No!” Kate fired out a kick, hard and full of force. “Get off me!”

  She caught the half-naked man square in his sternum, pushing him backwards, buying herself some time. Sitting upright, the professor scrambled for the door, desperately throwing out an arm. Fingers scraping over the door’s molded armrest, the frightened woman yanked the door closed. To her shock, the native reappeared almost instantly, his warpainted face and sweaty palms pressed flush against the window.

  “Lock the door!” Kate heard Sienna scream. “What are you doing? Lock it!”

  Reacting quick-smart, Miller slammed the heel of her palm down on the locking mechanism. She heard a prominent clunk! which emanated somewhere deep down inside the frame of the door, letting her know she was good. Still, the tribesman remained by the window, peering in through its darkened façade, leering rapaciously at her. His visage didn’t remain there for long, however. Kate’s ears twitched as she heard a muffled pop! A fraction of a second later, a gout of blood erupted out the side of his head! Then he was gone.

  “Stay down!” Gregory Trentham yelped at the women, sliding down in his seat and holding onto his hat.

  Ping! What was presumably a bullet, or maybe even an arrow (after all, it was hard to tell amidst the chaos of it all), ricocheted off the Chevrolet’s bonnet, sparking noticeably with the resulting impact.

  “Shit!” Clementine cursed, instinctively shrinking back from the windscreen.

  “Where’s Campbell?” Kate yelped.

  CHAPTER 6

  Elias saw the native a fraction of a second too late. Before the commander had a chance to react, the Amazon had already smashed poor Trey in the face with his weapon! Looking on helplessly then, Campbell watched as his friend collapsed by the Chevy, either unconscious or dead.

  “Trey!” an involuntary panicked cry left the Scotsman’s throat.

  Raising his assault rifle, Campbell took aim. Lining up his comrade’s attacker, he pressed down on the trigger and click! nothing happened. His magazine was spent. Cursing under his breath, Elias slung the rifle immediately, not bothering to reload it. Thinking fast, the mercenary went for the compact sidearm resting on his hip. Unclipping the Glock-18C, the commander took aim at the warrior once more just as the Amazon turned menacingly towards the Chevy.

  Pop! Elias let a single shot fly.

  A nanosecond later the native toppled, blood streaming from his right temple.

  Got to get to Trey and the others, a voice told Campbell.

  Try as he might, the commander didn’t get far.

  Moving toward Trevon and the civilians, Elias was forced to stop short when another tribesman pounced on him! Materializing as if out of thin air, the native cut across Campbell’s path, poised to strike at a moment’s notice. Standing before the surprised mercenary, the Amazon gripped an axe in his right hand, the blade slick with cerise gore. Behind the tribesman lay his latest victim, blood pooling around the unfortunate PMC’s prone frame. Even with just a quick glance, Elias was certain his subordinate was deceased, his face a mélange of mangled matter.

  Then the warrior struck.

  Countering fast, Campbell used his forearm Karate-style to block the warrior’s incoming attack. The mercenary’s eyes bulged when he registered just how close the axe had come to smashing into his waiting skull. But he couldn’t dally. Going on pure instinct at this point, he delivered the same strike to the native’s other arm, jarring him and stalling the other portion of his attack. Then, still gripping his Glock, the Scot pistol-whipped his enemy, virtually obliterating the warrior’s nose!

  Kerunch! Even accustomed as he was to violence, Campbell still found the sound of bone breaking to be gut-churning at times.

  “Aaahhh!” the Amazon howled, the man’s pain nigh-on palpable.

  Elias watched for the briefest of moments as the Amazon clutched at his ruined face, scarlet pouring through the gaps in his dirt-covered fingers. Lost in his agony, the wounded warrior stumbled aftwards, abruptly placed on the backfoot. Whereas Campbell, not prepared to waste another second, aimed his weapon. Double-tapping the trigger, he downed his attacker then and there!

  “That was close,” Elias grunted to himself.

  Panting hard with exertion, coupled with the waves of adrenaline infiltrating his system, Campbell felt himself being overcome with the shakes. He tried to slow his breathing, exhaling through his nostrils, fighting it.

  Focus! the PMC told himself amidst the madness.

  And so, before taking off again, Elias made sure to scan his surrounds. Bodies littered the ground, some writhing in pain, others deathly still. Added to this, the familiar chatter of automatic weapons continued, albeit not on the scale it had before. This told him he was losing men, which made his mission all the more urgent. He had to get to Trevon and the others. He had to get them out of here.

  Scanning the hyperkinetic scene one final time, he decided the coast was clear, at least in his general vicinity. With this, Campbell pushed on towards the SUV, staying low for fear of stray bullets (or a well-placed arrow). Rushing to the vehicle’s rear passenger-side window, he peered in to find the semi-hidden visage of Kate Miller awaiting him.

  “You guys stay put,” he called to her through the glass, without actually looking at the others. “Okay?”

  She nodded in the affirmative.

  Satisfied she wasn’t going anywhere, Elias turned to the prostrate figure of Trevon at his feet, who was stretched out alongside the truck, unmoving. A gruesome gash ran down the left side of Trey’s head, starting at about the temple. Inspecting the dark, puckered flesh, the commander was able to tell immediately that the wound was going to need stitches. Crouching down beside Latham, Elias placed his ear to the man’s mouth, listening for any breathing. To his relief, he could hear his fellow PMC’s lungs working. Even so, his breathing was shallow and erratic.

  “C’mon pal,” Campbell gave the side of his friend’s face a soft slap. “Wake up!”

  Trey’s eyelids flickered open and shut momentarily.

  “That’s it!” Elias slapped him again, albeit harder this time. “Get up, you lazy wee prick!”

  Trevon’s eyes sprung open, shocked by the force of Campbell’s strike.

  “Motherfucker!” Trey growled at his commander, his voice a little hoarse.

  “Aye, right you are then,” Campbell helped him up into a sitting position, shuffling his comrade up against the Chevrolet’s huge tire for support.

  Elias peered into his friend’s eyes, which to his frustration were already closing over again. With his free hand, the Scot used a thumb and forefinger to pry one of his subordinate’s eyes open. To his complete surprise, captured in the reflection of the glassy orb, he noted a tawny physique bearing down on him and Latham, a spear pointed ominously at them both! Campbell watched both Latham’s eyes grow wide in that moment, glistening with fear as the other man registered the sleeking tribesman’s presence.

  Even so, Campbell remained cool, calm and collected. Just as he was trained to do. Sliding his Glock in under his armpit, Elias placed the pistol parallel to his ribs. Pointing it away from him, he squeezed the trigger three times in quick succession! Elias didn’t even turn around to check he hit his mark. Instead, the merc simply waited for the tell-tale sound of the man’s dead body hitting the ground.

  “Nice!” Trey let the word escape from his lips in a kind of
groggy hiss.

  “Here,” Campbell retrieved his teammate’s wayward assault rifle.

  “Thanks,” Trevon said, coughing a little.

  “Don’t mention it,” Elias replied. “How are you doing?” he probed worriedly.

  “Vision’s blurry,” Trey confessed. “Balance feels a little off.”

  “Probably a concussion,” Campbell told him.

  Trevon nodded in agreement, smiling weakly at the same time.

  “I’d say rest up,” Elias smiled back, “but under the circumstances I think we should get you on your feet, don’t you?” the Scot slid an arm around Trey’s waist, proceeding to help him up.

  Like a poor imitation of conjoined twins, the pair awkwardly got to their feet, staggering as they tried to find some sense of equilibrium between them. Still, they made it. Yet, the scene awaiting them was a little different to what either man had expected to find. Anticipating to have to dive right back into the thick of the action, they were confused to see the host of tribesmen retreating˗ en masse, no less.

  “What the hell?” Elias breathed.

  Scampering like hares alerted to a nearby fox, the natives’ ochre forms fled for the safety of the rainforest once more. Still holding onto Trevon, Elias checked left and right, his blue eyes scanning warily for some sign of a trap. But it didn’t seem to be the case. It was the same all around them; tribesmen cutting and running. As suddenly as the assault had begun it was apparently over. Not even bothering to look back, the collection of clay-colored bodies receded into the jade undergrowth from whence they came.

  Doing a quick head count of his men, Elias searched up and down the line. The mercenary commander noted he had just over half of his troops still in commission, their comrades’ bloodied remains strewn here and there. This wasn’t good. Not by a long shot.