And here they were
again, on the edge of the deadly swamp, still looking as evil as the first
time. Somehow Angelo had hoped they were going to be taken around it via
another route, but no, the creatures seemed set on crossing through it. To their great disappointment the Ahram
pulled out a rough wooden skiff from under some leaves and branches with
several paddles in it. There were no seats, but it was shallow enough to sit
comfortably on the floor and hold onto the sides. Their greatest fears were
realized when there was another hoot and the lead Ahram gestured for them to
climb aboard. None were too keen to be the first, but Angelo took his courage
in his hands and climbed aboard to set a good example. Next came Rose and then
Righteous and Sweet Mary - still in his arms - and Dutch dragging along
dispiritedly in the rear. The Ahram climbed aboard and took up their oars, the
small guy with the gammy leg taking up his position in the rear with the
rudder.
At first the going was
easy, notwithstanding the sweltering heat of the swamp under the closed canopy
of leaves overhead. The Ahram guided the skiff expertly and smoothly in between
the trees and the tangle of branches over-hanging the water. Very soon the
light began to dim as they penetrated deeper into the dense foliage and,
although it was a frightening and foreboding place, they took consolation in
the fact that they were on their way to somewhere where there would hopefully
be food and shelter and where they wouldn’t have to be running from the ice all
the time. In the meantime they dozed and dreamed on and off through the long
afternoon, bothered only occasionally by the stinging insects hovering in wait
over the water.
But soon the darkness closed
in and the horrors of the swamp began to reveal themselves. The massive ancient
tree trunks, illuminated by the strange green glow, towered above them like
black monoliths, their spotted and diseased looking bark bursting open with
suppurating sores that sent slavers of slime slithering down to the surface of
the water and spread across the swamp like a sickness. There was no sleeping
now. The boiling, bubbling mud too, had taken on a more sinister red hue from
the bioluminescence in its make-up. Dark shadows began to abound behind the
trees, appearing and disappearing out the corners of their eyes. The Ahram
seemed to notice none of this as they rowed stoically onwards.
In the beginning this
was just medium scary, especially since the Ahram seemed pretty relaxed and in
control. But now the trees seemed to be sliding closer together as the skiff
passed by, moving on a bed of shifting sands. It was as if they could feel the
presence of the intruders and were intent on trying to crush them, branches
sweeping low overhead, clutching at their clothes. At first they were inclined to dismiss what
they saw as the usual hallucinations; horror, after all has its limits. But the
Ahram too were starting to show signs of concern. They coughed at each other
more frequently and increased the speed of their rowing, leaving a wake of
glowing luminescence behind them. The humans watched the progress of the rowers
with intense concern.
Every now and then the
raft would strike an obstacle in the dark and lurch over sideways, nearly
tipping them all into the bog, at which point the Ahram battled fiercely with
their oars to set them free and get going again. Gradually things got worse and
deteriorated into a full scale battle with the seething sentient nature of the
carnivorous jungle. The trees began bumping the sides of the boat as they went
by, long reaching tendrils of root and vine, black as death, pulled out of the
mud with slippery sucking noises and began reaching blindly for the boat.
This is where the
mystery of the bone swords was answered. Slashing left and right, the Ahram began
cutting their way through the tangle. Gory green fluid poured from each severed
tree limb, adding to the noxious cauldron bubbling beneath their boat. And
where one was cut off, two more began to grow in their place. It was an
impossible battle, but somehow those few Ahram managed to keep fighting and
paddle their way through at the same time.
Sweet Mary sat with her
eyes closed and her face pressed tightly into Righteous’ chest. Everyone clung
together in the middle of the boat so as not to get in the way of the
struggling Ahram who were now jumping to wherever the next attack came from and
barking at each other continuously.
‘This is why they wanted
us to hurry,’ thought Angelo. If he had only known, he’d have chivvied them
along much faster.
Then they heard a howl
that froze the blood in their veins. The entire forest fell silent…including
the mud. For a moment not a bubble was seen or heard. Such a sound was too much
for Sweet Mary and way beyond the control of her Null-wave transmitter. She
swooned in a dead faint. Rose clung to Angelo and kissed him repeatedly on the
neck, trying to get as many in before she died. The Ahram paused for a split
second, then exploded in a fury of re-energised action. Paddling furiously they
redoubled their efforts and began pulling with Herculean strength. Behind them
they could hear something very large splashing and wading through the swamp
after them. The boat was fairly slicing through the water now and the trees
flew by in a blur, desperation lending it wings. Both human and lizard creature
alike kept glancing fervently towards the rear, hoping not to catch a glimpse
of whatever was following them. But as inevitably as night follows day they
could soon discern a forlorn mist following them. At first, like the ghost of hopelessness,
the mist began to morph moment by moment into a mighty, moving, mystical shape
that flowed through the trees without impedance or check, ever towards them,
the miasmic ooze of the swamp lending it substance as it moved after the little
boat; as if the jungle itself was giving birth to this horror; as if all the
evil humours of this place were materializing and growing in size and
corporality with every step. Within minutes the unworldly creature was dwarfing
the trees, swatting them out of the way like matchsticks with its now all too
real mass of muscle and bone and sinew plunging through the boiling mud with
the scent of its prey igniting its primitive brain. The four legged demon
filled its lungs and howled into the abyss.
It was a sound to turn
mortal bone to jelly. The boat lifted temporarily out of the swamp and left the
Ahram rowing furiously in the empty air until it crashed back down again,
scattering its occupants across the floor. Perhaps it was just a figment of
their fevered imagination, but the little group of humans, those who dared to
look, would swear that the creature resembled a giant rabid dog.
Time stood still and
everything seemed to play out in slow motion; the frantic paddling of the
Ahram, the bounding of the boat across the roots and hidden shoals of the malevolent
mangroves, the eager panting of the huge hound in their wake, surging closer
with every stride, its giant head, twice the size of their boat, straining
after them with gleaming red eyes and bloody foaming jaws snapping at their
stern. They sat mesmerized by the image of their doom, and waited for that
final lunge that would mean their end. A tidal wave washed over the rear of the
boat as the dog’s massive paws slammed down on either side of them.
Then time sped up and
everything happened at once. The lead Ahram hooted twice and one of the rowers
at the rear turned and, with a deft flick of his oar, flipped the crippled
Ahram over the back and into the swamp.
The dog instinctively
slid to a halt and thrust his snuffling snout under the water, sweeping this
way and that, searching for the lost creature.
“They threw him
overboard!” screamed Rose. “They just threw him out for the dog.”
The rest watched in
shocked silence as the kill-crazed dog spotted the crippled Ahram swimming
madly after the retreating boat and leaped after him in pursuit.
“We must stop for him,”
said Rose. “We have to save him.”
But everyone could see
that he wasn’t going to make it. There was nothing they could do.
Then Righteous stood
upright in the boat. “Hold her,” he said to Dutch and shoved Sweet Mary into
her arms. Then he slid like a shadow over the back of the boat and disappeared
into the moiling morass of mud and mire.
“Righteous. Don’t!”
shouted Angelo, but the big man was already gone. No-one could quite believe
their eyes. They just stared back stupidly to where Righteous had disappeared
into the bog. If the dog didn’t get him, the boiling mud most certainly would.
“Nooooo!” screamed Sweet
Mary, beside herself with terror and lapsed into her calm never-never land
again.
“What the fuck did he do
that for?”
This was beyond the
scope of what they could understand. A feeling of numbness gripped the little
group of humans. This was more than mortal mind could bear. They couldn’t even
think about this.
IS THIS THE END OF RIGHTEOUS? FIND OUT NEXT WEEK.
