1 comments/ 4904 views/ 4 favorites What You Don't Dare The People By: cowboy109 The seersucker shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbows. A dark stain worked its way down the spine as the tropical island sweet dripped. Khakis accentuated his athletic butt cheeks. His feet swiftly stepped past the discarded plastic piece and exposed-bone carcass of a dog. A baby tied to the back of a black mother with a cloth cried with the lethargy of having cried for hours with its fingers inside its mouth. The mother kept humping her big butt to soothe the child while pumping a stick inside a bucket. Starch white eyes on coal black faces watched the white man with the mysterious overhead large backpack. They had stopped their soccer game with the paint thinner box as a ball. A three sizes too large purple soccer jersey with the straps being so large that the kid's nipples were exposed. A donkey rebelled with hee-haw against pulling a cart, the overcrowded conditions, the battering sun, life in general, the lack of union-induced rules for regular breaks, or god knows what. The man stopped in front of a store with a red, hand-painted sign: Avis. "Xavier, my plane was delayed. I have to get a move on before sun down. There is no time for tea this time. I swear, I'll bring Legos for your kids next time." "Americans, always rush, never love our people." "I fucking told you not to refer to me as American. I'm a bird watcher from Europe. That's what you tell people." "Calm down, grumpy. I got the keys right here. It's a 2014 Range Rover. There are only two of that year on the island. You won't find a better car anywhere." The man looked at his gold rimmed aviator wrist watch: June 20th, 2016, 2:31 PM. He pulled a thick, folded vanilla envelope out of his front pocket. Xavier smiled exposing a gold tooth sparkling in the tropical sun. "I love you European birdwatchers." "Fuck you, too!" growled the muscular, white man as he swung himself into the driver's seat of the SUV heralding from colonial times of conquering remote, rugged terrain. He pulled out a laptop with reinforced metal corners and a handle. It was a big bulky thing as useful for battering a skull into pieces as it was for computing tasks. He flipped it open and held his eye still in front of the camera until a chirp released him and send the screen flashing to life. MIL-56 was the model number printed on it. A gray scaled satellite view was transposed to a brown-and-white image. An orange circled pulsed in the middle of the city. Circles of light lines extended outwards to help him find the range. He pushed the gas. The heavy roar of the engine warned people milling all over the road to get out of the way. The expanse of the rubbled city stretched out with black faces and bare black legs in flip flops slowing him down like molasses slows down a drowning fly as it tries to escape from the deadly embrace of being caught on an underplate filled as a trap. The hood got blocked from advancing by a tightly packed crowd wielding signs with "Bronte a la presidencia." The angry crowd started rocking his car. He put his hand on the back of the passenger's head rest to twist his body around to look for an escape back. The crowd chanting "Bronte" had fully enclosed him. He let the car slowly roll forward. The soft offroad tuned suspension made the rocking even more intense. A bug-eyed woman with a rainbow towel wrapped around her heard got in front of the windshield and stared the man down. The crowd on top of a nearby white-washed one story high building unrolled a banner with "Dieter a la presidencia." The crowd poured towards the building. They started banging against the building with sticks and rocks. A lad jumped onto his hood and climbed the roof with the national flag that he waved in big wide swings. The sentiment of the crowd towards the driver changed. A woman placed a small, white candle on the hood. She let the liquid wax first drop onto the hood and then pressed the candle into it. A sticker with Bronte's face was planted on the side window. A mango was placed on the hood as an offering. A voodoo doll was placed on his hood. A man sprinkled goat blood in three wrist flicks across the hood. A twenty year old woman screamed hysterically at the car and went into a full body convulsion with her eyes rolled back to expose the white. A priest in full dress stepped in front of her, put his palm on her forehead, and after a ceremonial moment of pause pushed her backwards onto the filth of the floor. A drummer with a heavy candombe drum hanging from a sling over his shoulder started walking next to the Range Rover and fired up the crowd. A baby was placed on the hood that was increasingly decorated as an altar. The baby was tied up into a bundle and softly munching with his teeth on nothing. The mother had seemingly faded away. Fist pumping locals walked alongside the Range Rover, which had become somewhat a leader of the marching crowd. The Range Rover had slowly inched forward and separated its followers from the main movement. The followers one by one realized that the march was elsewhere. They trickled away until only four weary black faces that rather looked gray from tire were still marching next to him. The baby was still on the hood. He opened the car door, grabbed the baby in a swift motion, pressed it on the next woman together with a twenty dollar bill, and disappeared back inside the safety bubble of the Range Rover before the tired followers reacted. He punched the gas. The ceremonial offerings on his hood were lifted into the slipstream, hopefully not hitting pedestrians too painfully. A big, colorful voodoo snake stabbed by a dagger and eating a card emblazoned his driver side window, painted there by one of the protestors. The suburban space was emptier and let him drive faster. The potholes with waste water splashed high, when a tire hit it with a hard knocking sound. The inhabitants were stoic to the filth rain coming down on them. The single story barracks gave way to corrugated sheet metal huts. Those gave way to tarps hanging from branches of the increasingly richer plant life until the thick jungle with its plethora of large, vibrantly green leaves swallowed the road. Leaves and small branches were hitting the windshield. He was a in a tunnel of green. The tires carved a heavy groove into the wet, muddy dirt. Occasionally, a tire spun out and flicked mud on the side of the Range Rover. He stopped at a voodoo altar. Sticks were poked into the ground. Flower garlands were hanging from the sticks. A bundle of leaves was placed in the center. Someone had painted circles with white powder. He got his Cold Steel SRK six inch stainless steel combat knife out to scrape the political stickers from the car. A black monkey with oversized limbs was watching him. The fingers were skinny and long. They wrapped around the branch with a fluidity that betrayed the straight lines of bones so much that they looked like tar oozing around the branch. It was a stomach sickening sight. The tiny black eyes twitched following the man with every movement, as he wiggled the tip of the knife under the stickers. A low cargo boat horn rolled over the bay from the distant harbor. He walked to the passenger side to pull a book out of his backpack. It was a pristine field guide for birds. He fawned the pages open against the palm of his other hand. Then, he firmly grabbed the spine and vigorously bent the book back and force. He let it drop to the ground and kicked it around a bit, almost getting into the passion of playing soccer, as the corners of the book dug into the soil. He picked it up and very carefully wiped away all dirt to give it the air of being a much loved for yet very worn book. He threw it on the dashboard and drove on. The road got steeper. The tires had to fight with increasingly large rocks that stuck out of the packed, muddy road. The sunlight pierced the canopy increasingly as the thick shrubbery vanned with increasing altitude. By the time the sun turned the sky into a shimmering orange, the jungle forest had receded enough to reveal the city far beneath with the long fingers of land extending into the Caribbean Sea. The bump of the tires hitting a large tree root shook him out of his dreams about the distant beauty of scenery. A small collection of huts opened up the tight space that had been hugging the road. A black dog chained to a stick was barking at his arrival. The beam of his headlights made the dog jump to the side. He stopped in front of the last hut with the sign "Maria." A chubby woman with a large rump and large breasts that rested on top of her rump stepped outside. "Master, master," she called out waving at the man. He stepped out of the Range Rover, the engine shutting down, the air fan still whirring to cool the engine. "Maria, I'm glad to have made it. The city is explosive like a powder keg." "Come here," she pulled him into a warm hug, "you don't need to be down in the filth. Stay up here in the beauty of the mountain. There are a lot of bad people down there. When our nation is in its darkest time, the cockroaches come out from their crevices. Here at the mountain top, we are so close to the sun that no cockroaches dare coming here." "Do you have the room ready?" "Of course, John. I also have supper for you. You must be hungry. You are such a large man." Maria hurried to get around the hood with her fat thighs and toes pointing outwards. She opened the passenger door to grab his backpack. She struggled with the weight. He swiftly took the backpack from her hands. She fought him for it. "Let me be a good hostess." "You let me be a gentleman," John added with a smile. She submitted with a blush on her cheeks and went waddling off in a hurry to pull the curtains to the hut aside. The curtains looked like a discarded shower curtain from a first world nation. It had images of Donald Duck and Daisy Duck printed on it. Both entered into the dark inside. Maria ladled food out of a pot into a bowl. It smelled like beef and beans. The aroma was savory. The smell felt holistic like home, like from a time before dangerous preservatives and nutrition fads, simply hearty meals. The sound of tree frogs entered the hut through glass free windows. His eyes adjusted to the darkness to see the mattress on the ground. It was a small room. "Where will you sleep?" "You sleep here. My house is small. Yet, up here it is a palace. I will sleep with my sister. You pay me good money, right." "Of course, do you want to see it?" "You pay me when you leave. I trust you. You have a good face." She left him with the heat of the bowl hurting his fingers and cozying them at the same time. He let the pain seep into his little finger bones. The air was cooling. His body was drawing tight from the cool air. His mind was fatigued and weary. He let himself sit down on the small chair. His face let the tension drop. He had made it. The end of his journey. He let the meat cubes melt on his tongue into individual fibers. The beans had been stewed for a long time. Their flavor had infused everything, the beef, the potatoes, and the cooking water. His eyes softly gazed out into the jungle. The young trees were standing closely together. There was peace out there, a lack of movement, a lack of threats - simply static, consistent. Eventually, he tore himself out of his lethargy to get real rest. He opened up his backpack and pulled an olive green square out of it. He placed it into the center of the room. With the push of a button, a ball sprung out of it. The ball moved in swift random patterns, silently. Here and there was the flash of a bright red laser glare. The walls got tinged in a soft red. He put a Bluetooth earpiece on. The box transmitted humming static to his earpiece as he moved around the room waving his arms. The sound turned shrill when he stood in front of the door. It turned back into a humming as he moved inside of the room. He pulled a white mosquito net out of the backpack. He undressed into his underwear and wrapped himself into the mosquito sack. He was instantly out cold on the mattress. A jungle downpour drummed on the roof. He slept through it like a rock. The whine of a horde of mosquitoes intruded in the early morning hours. They tried in vain to suck his blood. He slept through it. The wonderfully fresh jungle air with the scent of freshly rained on dirt and the aroma of flowers caressed him to lucidity. The light had a modulated brightness and clarity without its overbearing intensity in the morning. A wild boar was grunting and running through the forest. Salsa music came from a thin speaker somewhere in the road outside. A female singer undulated her voice in drawn out vocals while the drums beat a fast rhythm with driving whistles cheering up the song. He dressed himself into the wrinkled and smell dress from yesterday. He neatly packed the box and gear back into his pack. He locked the pack in the Range Rover and stepped over to the popup bar in the street. There were four stools in front of a counter, nailed together from rough wood planks. A cheery looking, tall fella was rubbing a white towel inside of a glass. A small hand radio was hanging from the edge of the counter playing wonderful music from a cheap speaker. "Buenas dias, hombre. ¿Qué puedo hacer por ti?" said the bartender with the cheer of a cheerleader and the innocence of a virgin. "A coke, son," replied John. "Veo, usted es americano," said the bartender with a warm smile and admiration in his eyes. "I'm not a fucking American. I'm a goddamn European birdwatcher," replied John. He angled his elbows to flap them like a bird. He whistled. And then he made binocular movements in front of his eyes. "Bird," he drew out, "watcher." "You are American. Europeans learn Spanish before they come here. And I speak English very well. You can be with me anything you want. For all I care, you are Japanese, yah!" said the bartender with Caribbean friendliness without a hint of sarcasm. "I am Angelo." "Nice to meet you," replied John shaking his head. "I'm John." "I would have thought your name would be Johannes if you were European. Shall I call you Johannes?" continued Angelo with innocent demeanor. Angelo's slender long fingers fished a coke bottle out of the ice box, where it bobbed in melted water with a few ice cubes bumping against the glass. Angelo perched the cap against the bar counter and swiftly hit down with his fist to pop the cap. Then, he lined up a little snake, the length of a hand with the head already chopped off. Blood was running on the cutting board. With a cleaver, he chopped off a round piece of the snake and popped it through the bottle opening before John could say anything. The bottle was put down in front of John with a straw quickly following into it. "What d'you put the snake in for?" "It's protection against curses. You need this in the mountain country. There are only very few people up here and a lot of magic floating through the land." "Can I get another bottle without snake?" "I strongly advice against it. You don't understand what you are dealing with. You European birdwatchers are very naive." "Don't worry about me. I'll take my chances." "As you wish, master," replied Angelo serving another bottle of coke. "I have to charge you for both." Angelo took the first bottle back. "Lucy," yelled Angelo, "I've got a free coke for you. The American who wants to be referred to as a European birdwatcher doesn't want it. Come quickly, it's still cold." "God dammit," cursed John. "The whole village knows now. I'm John from Austin, Texas. And I'm here to watch the mating of Hispaniolan Trogan." A twenty-five year old woman appeared out of a wall of torso sized leafs. She had a white complexion. Yet, her eyes were larger like that of black women. She had dark thick hair like a black woman, yet straight hair like a white one. Her breasts and hips were round like a black woman. Yet, her skin was fair, clear, and youthful. She was tall with 5'10". She had a disarming smile and thick red lips. A peasant dress was obscuring her figure. John's face snapped to attention. He immediately wiggled a stool into perfect distance to the counter. "Will you marry me and take me to America?" said Lucy with a light hearted laugh that marked it a complete joke. John's eyes were fastened on her to take in the nuances of her eyebrows and guess the shape of her naked belly underneath the fluffy dress. "Our American looks very hungry. You should feed him before he eats me," flirted Lucy unperturbed by his stare. "Johannes, do you want some eggs. We make a good omelet." "That would be delightful. Would you like to join me Lucy?" "My brother wouldn't like that. He is very protective of me. I shouldn't even be sitting here with you. You'd be in big trouble if he found out." Lucy had this way of constantly laughing, throwing her head back with liberty, and letting her eyes sparkle at him. He knew that her breasts would fill his hands. With hungry eyes, he measured that they would be perfect for titty fucking. She got up and left, sucking seductively on the coke bottle with her luscious lips. She disappeared behind the wall of large leafs. Angelo lit a portable stove and moved a pan through the flame. "You don't want to mess with her brother. He is very vicious. He put a curse on my uncle. My uncle was driven to gambling. He got in with the wrong people. They extracted their money by cutting off his hand. Only then was the curse satisfied and lifted. And you know what my uncle did? He declared his love with a song in front of Lucy's house. There is no man in this mountains who dares being disrespectful to Lucy." "A drunk man ones yelled at Lucy. Her brother brooded for days about a torment. Then, her brother bewitched a monkey to follow around the drunk man. Whenever the drunk man lifted a glass or bottle, the monkey would throw a rock at him. The man now lies down and drinks from a river. The drunk man's tried shooting the monkey. Yet, a magic spell give the monkey a bullet proof vest." "Has anyone ever asked her brother for permission to date Lucy? That would be the respectful thing to do," said John. "Oh, never mutter his name. He might here it and come. Trust me, you don't want to ruin your day. And yes, there was a young lad, who asked for his permission. Her brother said that to date Lucy, the suitor had to pass a magic trial. So, the suitor went with her brother into a cave. The suitor was fed magic mushrooms. He hallucinated about meeting Lucifer. And Lucifer turned to smoke and entered his body. The brother said that the suitor's blood was bonded. If he ever disappointed or hurt Lucy, he'd die." "The lad was overjoyed. When he held Lucy's hand, his smile was as happy as any face I had seen. Lucy, she was angry. She didn't like the guy. Yet, she obeyed her brother. The lad was very respectful and bought her beautiful clothes. One day, he took her down to the city. There was a big festival. As it happened, there are many beautiful women in the city. He got an eyeful. When Lucy saw that, her anger erupted. That moment, the lad's blood turned black, black like a darkened soul. And his heart jammed up pumping the black blood. He died on the spot. No nobody, dares approaching Lucy. She is a forbidden flower." Angelo scraped the yellow omelet onto a plate. John, full of though, got a good grip on the fork. "I'm too busy anyway. I better stay focused on my Hispaniolan Trogan. I'm trying to get a shot that'll land me on the cover of National Geographic. Then, I can maybe get a nice house in the suburb and find me a good girl. When you are young, you have to prove yourself. I'm about old enough that I should be done with the proving. You know what I mean?" "I'm a business man," explained Angelo. "You might see me as the simple bartender here. However, this is my own business. There is a future. Once the election is over, I'll market this as a weekend adventure to the city. I'll tell them about the beautiful outdoors and the freedom. They will come. See, I have four chairs now. I will build out. I might double the counter. You just see, one day, I'll take an advertisement in one of your travel magazines and more Americans will come, paying good money. This is a gold mine. I'll hire Lucy. I know how you look at her. You'd tip her good if she poured, you a coke, yes. I'll make a deal with her brother. You see, business is all about hiring the right people. You will make photo for Facebook of her, yes. You will share that with your friends. Your friends will want to come here and meet her." What You Don't Dare The People The stuttering of an AK-47 pierced the jungle sounds. Trampling sounds of boots breaking twigs and twisting leaves sounded, completely unafraid of being loud and boisterous. A group of four man dragged a wild board out of the forest. The pig was bleeding. The dead leafs on the ground were dredged into a line. All of them had AK-47's strapped over their shoulder. "Expired ammunition is cheap," explained Angelo. "Russia sells them here. It's cheaper to ship crates of bullets here than to safely destroy it in Russia." The men tied the wild boar to a tree and started gutting it. Blood gushed onto the ground in a pool. The dog from the village entrance was released to lap up the blood. John put the fork onto his empty plate. "That's my cue to leave." John crossed the dirt road back to his Range Rover. He picked up the backpack to get heavy boots out of them. He tied the laces high up around the shaft of the boots. His pants were tucked into the boots. He left his city shoes behind in the car. He shouldered the backpack. He pulled the hip and chest straps tight. And he darted straight out to the jungle. His boots broke through the lush grass near the huts. He pierced the wall of green leaves into the forest. Once he was inside the forest, away from the clearing for the village, there was darkness. The canopy caught every sun ray that it could. The floor of the forest had a lot of tree trunks without any branches or leafs down. Only mossy, wet, spongy plants grew on the ground, full of water and devoid of light. The tread of the boots sunk two inches into the loose organic matter on the ground. His trained body moved swiftly. The compass gave him a bearing. He'd pick a tree in the distance in line with his bearing and walk dead-on straight toward it. Once he reached it, he'd hold the compass up to his eyes like a gun sight to shoot at the next tree in the distance. This helped him walk in circles, because humans always have one dominant leg that moves faster. Once he was half hour out from the village and had worked up a good lather of sweet, he pulled out the laptop from the pack. He fired up the navigation software. He checked his bearing. With the laptop hanging around his neck from the big handle on a strap, he darted deeper into the wilderness. The sounds of birds, tree frogs, and howling monkeys accompanied him. His thoughts reminisced about life back home, streets with pavement, expensive bottle service in nightclubs, and the money in his 401k. After two hours, the jungle forest abruptly ended at a steep mountain cliff with a drop off of hundreds of yards. Big rocks without dirt stopped any plants from growing. The tropical sun was gleaming hot. John found a convenient rock to sit down. He got the telescope camera out of his backpack. He twisted the lens onto the camera. He got the tripod out. He wired the camera to the laptop. He unfolded an antenna and placed it on the tallest rock to run a wire from there to the laptop. He opened the chat window in his laptop. "Cold dragon is online." "Bronte is having lunch at the Hilton Hotel. We need eyes on that." John consulted the map on the laptop and moved the camera until the blue Hilton logo was framed in the camera. He scanned room to room. Then, he searched the parking lot for the big Mercedes with the national flags on the hood. A bulky guy in a black suit with tie stood next to it. John snapped a photo. Then, the camera roamed to the side entrance where five waiters were smoking cigarettes. They had their black uniforms and white aprons on. John kept watching them. A short, fat guy was silent. A lanky, tall guy kept goofing around apparently telling jokes. His limbs were so skinny that they were nauseating. A hurried woman with large black glasses whisked past them into the side entrance. John snapped a couple photos before she was inside. He attached them to the chat. "Got an out-of-place person entering through the employee entrance." "Got it. Facial recognition says that she is a low level member of Dieter's group. Can you do a scan over the city for any suspicious activity?" John scanned the city sector by sector with the telescope camera. There was an outdoor market for produce. People were selling food out of big bags. In a deserted alley, a woman had lifted her dress and was evidently pissing in the street. A Jeep crisscrossed the city with armed men in fatigues rattling their AK-47's in the air. A political protest movement was coagulated in the center of the city. It stayed there without going anywhere. People were jumping to the sound of drummers. Bronte had the far larger following. The harbor had cargo ships with rusty containers. A large crane dropped a container. There was a large commotion about the spillage of small plastic bottles of something that poured out of the cracked container. A cop came to wave his gun in the air. Going back to the Hilton, Bronte had stepped out onto a balcony. He was smoking a cigar and talking to another man in a suit. "Got a few snaps of Bronte. He's talking to a guy." "Got it. That guy is from the Russian delegation. We miscalculated big time, when we sponsored Dieter." "Nothing new under the sun. If the leadership didn't have their heads that far up their asses, they wouldn't need us to clean up the mess." "Do you have a location on Dieter?" "There is a fucking million people down there. You have to give me something to go on." "Check his mansion. Rue Verde 425" "Negative." "Check his office. Rue de Canal 105" "Negative." "He has a red BMW convertible. That should stand out in a city of pedestrians." "Yeah, I got something on Rue de Puppy. It looks like a brothel. There is a girl in lingerie up front. Her eyes have dark shades. She looks really fucked up." "Dieter is gay. He's not into pussy. It must be someone else." "No, hold on. He's on the roof top. He's talking to someone in a uniform. Photo is attached." "That's General Ruanda. Get the laser microphone out. We need to hear what they are talking about." John rushed to his backpack to get a long stick with a fuzzy, black cover out of a white bag. The long stick had a pedestal and a telescope gun sight. John carefully aimed the laser microphone. Moaning poured out of the laptop speakers. A little tap to the right and the blare of a TV with a daytime soap opera knocked at John's ear drums. A hysteric woman was screaming while a soft symphony played. The running water sound of a shower and a man singing his happy post-coital song came on: "Ma-ma-ma-ma-Madonna tiamo!" "They are out of range for good targeting. I'll keep trying." "Roger." The two men left the rooftop and entered the building. A minute later, Dieter left the building and drove of his in red convertible BMW. "Starlight, there is a column of twenty tanks entering the city in the North. They look like your typical Russian stink bugs." "Roger. What do the voting stations look like?" "It looks like people are painting them and generally fixing things up. I don't see any thugs or obstructions nearby." "Okay, cold dragon. I'm going for lunch. Day breeze is going to take over." John spent the rest of the day spying on the capital. He had an MRE for lunch. When the sun lowered for the afternoon, he packed up his gear. The jungle looked alike everywhere. There were no points for navigation. Without his compass and laptop, he'd be utterly lost. He came upon a herd of monkeys who felt their territory invaded. They jumped up and down and shook branches to demonstrate their anger and scare him off. One monkey would have made a nice football to be kicked around. The whole bunch of them was an uncomfortable thought of getting bitten by a rabid monkey. When he neared the village, he stowed his laptop. He came a little more from the North side than he had left. He could hear the toiling in the village. It was hidden behind the green wall at the boundary between the forest and the clearing of the village. When he pushed through the heavy leafs, he was taken aback. He had stumbled onto the backyard of Lucy. Lucy was standing in front of her house hanging her wet laundry. There was a pair or red panties with high cutouts for the legs, so that the fabric would run across half of her butt rather than covering it. There was a blue pushup bra. Lucy had a thing for vibrant colors in the choice of her underwear. She was bent over the laundry basked with her breasts hanging forward and her butt being rounded. "Hey Lucy!" "Hooo," gasped Lucy being taken aback with a coy expression on her face. "Um, I came back and didn't know you'd live here. I can close my eyes if it makes you more comfortable," he offered and closed his eyes. Being caught in darkness, he imagined her lingerie twirling all around here. His fantasy went more rampant than reality could have ever been. He imagined tiny little skirts and knee-high socks. The steps in the grass came closer. She took his hand. Her hand felt so soft, so feminine. He had an erection rising in his pants and bulging against the zipper. The quiet touches sometimes reach the deepest. She walked him around the hut. He could smell her, her cinnamon fragrance. He could hear her breath. He could her the nervousness in her breath. "How about another coke for dinner?" John opened his eyes, respectfully in the front of the hut. "I can't my Olgues is very protective. If he found you holding my hand like this, he might cut your ear off." "Ah, Olgues is his name. I thought people were too afraid to mutter it." "He's not bad, you know. He simply protects the family bloodline very much. He believes that our family line is that of the highest priests on the islands. That makes me a sorceress, dangerous, huh? I could turn you into a frog," said Lucy and flicked her fingers into John's face. He jumped back. "Haha, I scared you!" Without saying another word, Lucy turned her back and walked back to her waiting laundry. John shook his head and then had a whole body shake at the impression of the seductive Lucy. Then he walked on to the dirt road that cut through the center of the village. When he got close to the makeshift bar, he noticed that the windows of his Range Rover were busted out. Broken glass littered the ground. A monkey head was dangling from the rearview mirror. It was a little monkey with a black, wet nose and tiny little button eyes. The spinal column was sticking out from the fur. His Monkey blood had dripped on the console. Angelo noticed John approaching and came running. Angelo waved his arms in dissuading fashion. "Lucy's brother was hear. He was furious. He said that you were stalking Lucy. Don't do anything rash. Lucy's brother is very vile. You are lucky that he only damaged your property. Your car will still drive fine without windows. And any blood can be cleaned up." John gnawed his teeth together and muttered, "Mission first." "What do you have for dinner?" John asked with a strained smile and eyes thrown wide open. "The best for you. You've had such a hard day. Simply, don't get mad. I'll make you chicken gumbo with my father's recipe," Angelo's face radiated the idea of the most delicious meal. John let himself be consoled by the warm friendliness of Angelo. He was on duty anyway. So, he wouldn't pay for the damage from his personal money. He let himself get swept up in the jovial exuberance of Angelo. Angelo was cutting the chicken beast into cubes. The olive oil was already heating in the skillet above the portable stove. The scent bursting forth from the freshly cut chives and tomatoes put John into a good mood. "Smells delicious. I can't wait to eat it." Angelo was turning the sizzling chicken cubes in the skillet. An oil bubble jumped out. John wiped the sting from his hairy forearm. "I'll tell you a secret. You mustn't tell anyone. My life depends on it. I have a boyfriend in the city. That's why I support Dieter. He understands gays. However, everyone here in the village votes for Bronte. They'd beat me up. Dieter studied at Yale. He understands. He has tolerance. But he will not win tomorrow. Only you understand what it means to love another man. You are American right? You fight for freedom. Where are your armies to fight for my sweet man and me to live in peace?" "I'm not gay. I have a co-worker who has a husband. He's a nice guy. I think it requires seeing a couple together like them to understand. There are all the little things, like how when my co-worker hugs his husband from behind at the kitchen table before asking if he wants another egg. Seeing those little things of how they fit together made it all make sense to me. People here can't see that. It's a bit of seeing is believing." "My boyfriend sometimes talks about us being leaders and we should openly hold hands. He says if enough people stand up, all the other ones will come out of the shadow. And we'll be a crowd so large that nobody can push us down. But, I worry. If only one couple stands up, they get lynched." "I wish I could help you or tell you something. Yet, I can't. There is nothing. It's a hard situation." The gumbo was bubbling. A richly brown, red sauce was letting lacy bubbles rise, grow, and collapse with a spray of sauce everywhere. John licked droplets of sauce from his forearm. The paprika, pepper, thyme spices were enveloping the street into a scent cloud. Angelo's face was glowing with the joy of cooking. "I'll tell you a secret as well. I've had a dry spell for two years. My work requires me to travel a lot. I'm rarely home. And I don't stay long enough to get to know a good girl," John laughed, "or a bad girl." "You are handsome. You are strong. You are travelled. You'd seduce me, if I wouldn't love my boyfriend that much," insisted Angelo. "Yeah, you'd think. Everyone thinks I travel to exotic places and the girls throw themselves on me. In reality, I work long hours on tough, technical jobs that require a lot of precision. A girl like Lucy doesn't walk down the street and thinks to herself, 'Look at him being able to bench 300 lbs. I wanna fuck him,'" continued John. "You'd be surprised. Lucy is very naughty in private. She knows my secret, and I know some of her secrets. Because I'm not sexual threat to her, we sometimes talk. We are friends. Her surface is very cold, because her brother watches her. However, behind her façade, she is one hot, sexual dragon. She often jokes that the pent up magical power sexually charges her. It's either put spells on people or flick the bean." "Jesus, Angelo, you'll give me crazy dreams by putting those ideas into my head. So, is the whole voodoo thing for real?" "Of course, it's all horse shit. They make that stuff for tourists and feeble minded people. 99.9% is that way. The real voodoo has been lost. There are ancient things that I can't explain. I'm not a scientist. There is a theory that there are magic spots. And when you go to those spots, nature will teach you its voodoo magic. That's why Lucy's brother lives out in the woods. He's searching for magical power. I believe he has found some things. He scares me very much." John put his fork onto the empty plate. His stomach felt full. He felt at peace. Angelo was quickly working on his bar chores to wash things and arrange things. John turned around on the stool to leave for this hut. His eyes fell onto a second car that had appeared on the dirt road. It was an old, yellow Honda beater from twenty years ago with the hub caps stolen. He took a mental note and went to his hut. He set up the intrusion alarm again and crawled into his mosquito net. He was out like a rock. Maria shaking him woke him up. She was strong. With both arms, she had grabbed his upper arms. She was shaking him as if her life depended on it. He could feel that she had been shaking him for a long time. As the buggers cleared out of his eyes, he realized that he was standing middle in a grass field, barefoot and in his underwear as he had gone to sleep. "Master, master, wake up!" she yelled at him full force. Terror was in her eyes like he was about to be thrown off a cliff. His voice was groggy. He could barely hear himself, "What!?" "You were under a spell. You were walking in trance to Lucy's hut. Her brother would have killed you had you arrived. I've been shaking you for five minutes. It was a very powerful spell. Are you awake yet?" Maria was panicked, speaking in a loud staccato voice. "Yeah, I'm awake. Why am I hear in the field?" asked the dazed John. "I told you. You were under a spell. The dog went crazy and woke me up. The dog wouldn't let go jumping on me in bed until I got up and followed it to you. You thank that dog your life. You better buy it a big bone tomorrow!" "I've never sleep walked my whole life." "Don't you understand? You weren't sleep walking. Someone summoned you!" "Well, thank you for waking me, Maria. I could have stepped in front of a car." "You don't understand. There is no traffic here. Olgues is here!" Maria's widened eyes widened even more. "Oh, no, I muttered his name." And she went running away as fast as her fat thighs would carry her. John was dazed in the grass. Reasoning about his options, he had only one play: Go back to sleep. The shrill sound of the intrusion detector sounded in his earpiece when he entered. How could that not have awakened him? He was out instantly. The next morning rose him gently with the beauty of freshly rained on soil, fragrant plants, and rich forest oxygenated air. A couple of chickens pecked for worms in front of his hut. The high chirps of the birds scattered away any negative or scared feelings. Still, he could feel the grip of Maria on his arms. There were bruised finger prints on his arms. It took strong hits during combat training for him to bruise. He shook his head. The peace of the morning made him meander into the streets without fully dressing up. Casually, he sat down with Angelo who was already singing along to a Rolling Stones song from his little radio. "I've got some fresh Mangos for breakfast. The hunters brought them by from their morning hunt. They are so juicy that you'll have to change to a clean shirt afterwards. And I got your coke without a snake here. Though, you should really consider getting some anti-spell protection." John slowly mulled over, "maybe, I should get the snake today. Maybe, I should get the whole snake today. Strange shit happened last night." "Johannes, you are scaring me," Angelo laughed as he was playing along with a joke. When Angelo heard the truth, he slit his wrist, softly only the skin. He gathered blood drops on his other hand and sprinkled them into John's stunned face. "Maybe, some of my gay blood will protect you from Lucy. Lucy did a summoning spell. She can't control her magic. I tell her to study voodoo magic. But she insists that it is a fairy tale. And so her magic express without control. I bet she was thinking about you in a horny way. Maybe, my gay blood will break the erotic bond between you two." "Jesus, fucking Christ. I always thought of you as level headed, Angelo." "I tell you, don't fuck with those siblings. They have destroyed many men." Angelo's face was stern, deadly serious. John let it go. He controlled his breathing. He had been taught psychological strategies to destabilize the enemy. He got a napkin and wiped Angelo's blood off his face. He lifted the cut-open mango to his face. The mango was cut into cubes that were still attached to the skin. He tried biting off the cubes with his teeth delicately snapping for them. Thick juice ran down his shirt. The aroma was so sweet and delicious that he didn't stop. "Heaven," he exclaimed looking at his wet shirt. A women with big glasses came out of the forest and walked towards the yellow beater car. John instantly recognized her from the Hilton side entrance. The woman went straight for her car, turned it around and left. At the leaf wall to the forest, there was a naked young man standing. He had white paint all over his face. His hair was tied together into a bunch over his head. His penis was covered in thick pubic hair. "Olgues," escaped John's lips. What You Don't Dare The People "You are correct," said Angelo solemnly. "She spent the whole night out in the jungle. She must have bought some voodoo magic from Olgues." Olgues disappeared into the jungle. "What kind of voodoo magic do politicians usually buy up here?" asked John. "You know surprisingly much about our local politics. She is the local campaign manager for Dieter. Most voodoo spells are some form of curse. It's usually for misfortune or outright death. Olgues is different. He thinks of himself as a high priest, someone who can speak for the spirit world. Maybe, she was buying the votes of the demons on this island. I offend you with my superstitious babble. We must talk about climate change or recombining DNA. I am quite educated actually." "Sorry, Angelo. I didn't mean to make you feel bad. That was interesting. I'm late for my mating Hispaniolan Trogan." John hurriedly threw his backpack over one shoulder and stomped out into the jungle with his shoes untied and his sullied shirt. The fern leaves were knocking against his shins. The backpack was bouncing on his hips with the straps undone. His breathing was sharp. The noise made the birds flutter up ahead of him. There was a stirring in the jungle. As soon as he found cover behind a fall tree, he threw the backpack out and pulled his MIL-56 laptop out. "Cold dragon here. There are operational difficulties." "1. Locals have vandalized my car." "2. The woman from the Hilton has showed up here. She is making deals with a local voodoo priest. Cutting through the superstitious bullshit, she may have bought a poison to assassinate one of the presidential candidates. It could be nothing as well. Though, the local populace is thoroughly terrorized by the local voodoo priest." "3. I sleep walked last night and almost caused enough damage to have to abort the operation. I have never sleep walked before." "Advice my next step." "Starlight here. The capital is extremely unstable civil strife has erupted. You cannot ex-file through the city. I repeat: Ex-file through the city is blocked. You need to cross the mountains and leave by land to the other half of the island. Before you do that. You must get us eyes on the capital. It is imperative. All of our other intelligence operators in the city have gone dark. We have no intelligence about what's going on there, except for some blurry satellite photos." John took some deep breaths. His mind was racing. He needed to make a priority list. He muttered to himself: "#1 Keep cool. #2 The village is remote. It'll take days for anything to spread up here. #3 I must accomplish my mission. #4 I must think about a route to cross the mountains, very probably on foot. #5 Think good thoughts about the future. The neighboring country is a peaceful tourist haven. Maybe, I'll get some R & R in a nice beach resort. Think about girls in bikinis dizzied by margaritas." He slapped his face a few times and returned to typing: "Affirmative. ETA to oversight point two hours." "Godspeed," was starlight's reply. John tied up his boots with the swiftness of a soldier. He strapped the backpack tightly. Then, he broke into a light jog. A run through the lush forest would have been beautiful under different circumstances. His body was quickly soaked in sweat. He was glad about the darkness to keep him somewhat cool. Without a shower for the third day, he could smell his musk. The thought crossed him that a wild boar's nose might be so offended that it would run away. He was so focused on the jog that in his mind it took an instance to arrive at the observation spot at the edge of the mountain face. He set up the camera, laser microphone, and antenna. "Cold dragon is operational." "Check Rue Commandante 87 for anteater." A white body hung out of the window. A rope was around the foot and kept the man from falling down. The man was in his underwear. The throat had a ghastly red slit. John snapped a photo. "Anteater is down. Photo is attached." "Check the Plaza de Liberte." A huge crowd was pressing and enraged. There was a podium at the center with guys in uniforms raising AK-47's to the sky. The people were shaking the podium. Nearby was a pitched fight of five soldiers shooting into a crowd and civilians carefully darting forward to throw rocks and quickly retreating. One soldier got hit into the head and went down. The other soldiers raised their weapons overhead. The crowd stormed them, enveloped them, and made them disappear without a trace. John snapped pictures like mad. "Locate Dieter's red BWM convertible." Dieter's convertible was parked in front of the Ambassador's Hotel. Scanning room to room, Dieter was visible in what seemed like a suite. He was involved in a struggle. He was rolling on the floor. He was trying to hit something with a vase. There was nobody. Yet, it seemed like he was fighting something invisible. He fell over a chair going sprawling on the ground. He quickly rolled on his back and crawled away. He got a hole of an umbrella and was hitting into the thin air. Strangely, the umbrella was bending as if there was something invisible. His advisors were silently sitting around the coffee table on the couch, not getting up, not even looking in his direction. John focused on them and snapped photos of their expressionless eyes. They all had red dots in the center of their foreheads. Dieter hit a counter with the back of his head. He was jumping across the room. Or, it looked more like he was thrown across the room. There was nobody. He managed to open the door and crawl into the hallway. He was out of sight. The flashes of AK 47's lit up the open doorway. "I think Dieter went bat shit." "Locate Bronte." John's head nodded forward. He jerked it back with violent force to avoid from falling forward. Roused standing as if someone had snuck up behind him, he found himself in darkness. The air was cold. There wasn't even the tiniest movement of air. The walls had a van shimmer to them. They seemed wet. He stepped forward. There was a light puddle of water on the ground. The sound of his splash on the water echoed. It sounded like he was in a cave. He checked his wrist. They weren't tied. He apparently wasn't captured. He carefully stepped forward, reaching with his hand. The blackness made empty space and hard rock appear nearly the same. The shimmer came from ahead. He carefully rolled on his toes to make no sound. If unsure assume an environment with extreme prejudice. Stalactites had formed in the cave. There was a tall cavern ahead. The very top of the cavern had an opening into the outside world. There was sky visible. A large water pool was in the center of the cavern. A six foot waterfall poured fresh water into it. The splashing sound echoed in the cavern. At the foot of the pool was a boudoir of velvet pillows, blankets, and mattresses. It was nestled into between stalactites. Lucy was in the center of it in a teddy bear negligee. The black sleeves ran all the way down to her fingers. "Come to me," moaned Lucy. Her eyes were darkened by mascara to make her even more seductive. Her voluptuous breasts were bare under the negligee. The pattern obscured a clear view onto her nipples. However, a lot of her boob skin shimmer through the black number. "This is my safe place. Olgues cannot find us here. I've been working all morning. I went to a little slumber and have all these feelings moving inside of me, these feelings of aliveness, good vibes, and salty skin. Have you brought your hard candy stick for me?" invited Lucy. "Shouldn't we get to know each other first?" asked John coyly. "Look deeply into my eyes and get to know me," Lucy was in the throes of lust. "I like hiking and working out," said John weakly. "I want to take you alone into secluded nature. I want to watch your muscles move under heavy iron," replied Lucy with unabashed, heavy lust. John moved carefully closer. Lucy watched him with her big black eyes. Her pupils had widened to make her look more in love, more youthful, more like an anime girl. Her chin was resting on her hands. She was on her belly. Her legs were playing the air. She curled her little toes under. The negligee ran skinny in between her butt, disappearing almost completely. John reached the boudoir and bent down on his knees onto a soft pillow. His pants were a rock hard bulge. And he didn't need to be afraid of showing it. She unzipped his pants. His circumcised, stout dick jumped out. "Don't be shy," she cooed. She rose up and put her arms around his shoulder. Her face was intimately close in front of his face. He melted into the love and feminine aspects of her face. Her cheek bones were round. Her skin was healthfully tanned by the mix of her white and black blood. Her lips had dark red, near black outlines that blended into the cherry-rich red bulk of her lip stick. Then, she spread her wings, purples wings, scaled like those of a dragon. The wings rose ten feet high, very thin winged skin, sharp claw points at the end. The skin on her wings was scaled. He couldn't fathom it. Her lips dove onto his mouth. She enveloped his mouth with warm moisture. Her tongue entered his mouth and bashed around like a wild horse breaking out of the stable in spring. Warm feelings gushed through him. He pulled her close. Her boobs pressed against his chest. He grabbed emotionally for her. John fell flat on his face. The laptop dropped down. He saw the long line of "L" letters that he had drawn into the chat window from having held down the "L" key. Starlight had inquired over and over, "Cold dragaon, are you there?" "Starlight, I had passed out. I don't understand. My physical was completely fine pre-mission." "Cold dragon, you were gone for three hours. Evacuate now. The intel that you have is way more valuable than what you might gather by staying longer. You must not be captured by the mob. Evacuate now by any means possible. The best route seems to be across the mountain. I suggest getting a night's sleep and pulling a long day. The terrain is treacherous." "Affirmative." John gathered his gear into the backpack. He was careful to slow down to neatly stow everything. In the field, it was foremost importance to be careful about gear. Any piece of gear could become critical at some point and spell the difference between life and death. The jungle had lost its beauty. It was as functional thing that let him tread back toward the hut. It was functional thing that got in its way with its plentiful vegetation, mud puddles, and heavy humidity. The leafs hitting his face no longer bothered him. The mud marking his boots and pants no longer bothered him. The layers of sweat stains on his shirt no longer bothered him. The sprouting facial hair no longer bothered him. Hunger and thirst could not touch him. His heart was pounding. The adrenaline was fueling him. He was lost for a moment. He didn't remember this spot from the past trips. The plants had given way to flat rocky ground. The brooding jungle clouds were visible above the clearing. Ant streets were running across the rock as thick webs. A cloud of butterflies was fluttering around, green and blue with black eyes painted on their wings. There was a circular hole in the center of the rocky outcropping. He carefully walked toward it. There was a cave underneath. Very much like in his dream, there was a pool inside. There was the sound of a waterfall. John started distrusting his sense of reality. In the half light of the cave was a woman's body swimming in the water. The waves in the water rippled the view on her body. The body was definitely female, round. The skin was white. The hair was black and long. He starred down at her ass and her feet. Something startled the woman. She tensed. She turned around. She looked up at the ceiling hole. She saw John. John froze. It was Lucy. She grabbed her big breasts. Her breasts were pushed higher and to be rounder by her naked arms. "John, fuck off!" she screamed at him. He stumbled back and ran into the forest. He was confused. She was so warm before. Why was she so cold? Was he passed out and dreaming again? Why didn't he feel his heart pounding? Was that because he was dreaming or because the adrenaline had made him numb to focus on the threat? John stumbled through the wall of green into the village clearing. He instantly knew that he was a disheveled mess. He tried wiping some of the sweat and grime out of his face. He realized how heavy his clothes were, because they were soaked in his sweat. He needed to drink to avoid becoming delirious. He walked to Angelo's bar. "Angelo, I caught a photo of the mating bird!" "You don't have to lie to me. Ain't nobody look scared like he is chased by a panther when he finds the cover of National Geographic. I told you my secret. You can tell me yours." "I passed out and Lucy was seducing me. And then I saw her in reality, and she yelled at me. I don't understand what's going on with me." "It's simple. Lucy has a mighty crush on you. Her subconsciousness desires you. So, when she takes a nap, her subconsciousness takes control of her and uses magic to enchant you. However, when she is awake, she'll be the sister that her brother wants her to be. You are in grave danger. You should leave." "I'm leaving tomorrow morning. I fear the elections have destabilized the country." "Oh, you haven't heard. Dieter killed his entire leadership. He went insane. His in an insane asylum now. Bronte won by a landslide. The generals rebelled. Tanks rolled into the city. You are lucky to be up here. It's civil war down there." John took the coke bottle that Angelo handed him. He ran the cool glass across his forehead for wonderful relief. Angelo pointed at the partial cut finger thick snake. John nodded. Angelo cut a bloody piece off and moved it towards John with the tip of the knife. John put it into his mouth. The skin was tough, impossible to chew. The skeleton cracked under his heard bites. Everything else in between oozed out into his mouth with a bile taste. John shuddered. "Hit me again," said John. Angelo cut another half inch of snake off and moved it toward John. With a face of agony, John shoved it into his mouth and chewed with an open mouth. That way, he got at least some fresh air into the vile taste. The repulsive taste had worked its way into the nose from the inside. John moaned overcome by distaste. "Hit me again," said John with steely resolve. John had to somehow spend the time of the afternoon until he could start his track. He was sitting at the bar and slowly sucking on his coke. There was a yellow flower the size of a head that he hadn't noticed earlier. The beauty of the red veins in the yellow petals was mesmerizing. "Go ahead and smell it," encouraged him Angelo. It smelled like raspberry honey. Angelo got a board of chess out. They played for a while. Angelo was no match. John explained to him the traps in a Sicilian opening. "The danger of openings is not that they give you a strong advantage. See, chess is very balanced. The tiniest advantage is what tips the scale towards a win without recovery for the other party. The value of openings are that they are narrow ledges that we both dance across. A single innocent misstep seals the fate. It's the narrowness of the ledge that makes a good opening." After a long pause that had John feel victorious about the wisdom that he was dispensing, Angelo said, "Take me across the border with you. Tourism is dead for years with civil war. You don't have to take me to America with you. Simply get me across the border to the other side of the island. I know what you are. You are no birdwatcher. Your secret is safe with me." "I can be useful. I know these mountains," continued Angelo. "I'm not supposed to get involved. I'm an observer," admitted John. "He's going to get you," said Angelo and pointed to the green wall at the boundary of the village. Olgues stood there, quietly and motionless, watching John. "He's reading your aura. He's going to do something to you. You need someone to watch your back." "Let's have a chat with him," stated John and got up with swift feet toward Olgues. Olgues remained motionless. As the distance shortened, John felt himself victorious. Olgues was within arm's reach and still not moving. He'd talk it out. He had advanced psychological training. He mindlessly wiped an insect from his arm. When he looked up Olgues was gone. John broke out into a quick sprint. He reached the leaf wall within 5 seconds. He pierced through it and watched through the expanse of bare tree trunks. Olgues was gone. He could have sworn that she should see Olgues' ass running. John got on his knees to inspect the ground. There were a few lumps of dirt thrown over. He could tell that the upside was wetter than the downside. That means Olgues' feet must have flung them over. He followed five feet. Olgues had made a sharp left turn. A complete foot print showed Olgues' was running barefoot. A bent over dead branch was another hint of Olgues' direction. After the initial hook, he seemed to have run in a straight line. How could he have disappeared that fast? John went deeper into the jungle. The canopy opened to allow sunlight to penetrate the forest floor. Plant life at the forest floor flourished here. There were many spots to ambush John. John was walking carefully and systematically checked for hiding spots. He saw a fast movement in the corner of his eyes. He turned quickly. The moment he turned, a naked body jumped up right from where he had been looking before. Something had distracted John. Olgues had been straight in front of him in a ditch. Olgues was running. A sixth sense told John to be cautious. That movement that had made him turn made him cautious. There was another one. This time, he caught a glimpse of a naked female body with full breasts and a firm, round butt running from one tree to the next. There were at least two people. He might be surrounded. That little patch of greenery could be a trap. John cautiously looked around to search for a defensible position with a good view. The female, naked body flashed again to run to hide behind another bush. The sound of the chirping birds was maddening. It was hard to tune into the hearing to hear soft footsteps, when this crashing orchestra pit of birds drowned out everything. The leafs bent ten foot away from him. Something was crawling toward John. John got his knife out and lowered into a ringer stance ready for someone to jump at him in a deadly fight. His breathing became pressed. He knew that every second of standing tense, he was losing his edge to whoever was taking his time in the bush, slowly wearing him down. He swallowed. He slowly moved back behind a tree to get the tree in between himself and the movement in the leafs. Sure enough, the movement circled around the tree ever cautiously staying out of his sight. It was utterly soundless, someone with amazing skill was moving through the forest. John quickly realized that this mission might be his last. From feeling confident about his training and experience, he realized that he was dealing with another heavy-weight out there. The naked female body was popping up for short flashes and strategically moving closer. John realized that the noose of being outnumbered was tightening around him. "Okay, you guys have me outnumbered. Chances are you win. However, I'll exact my toll in flesh and blood. Let me withdraw. I'll leave. This is your land. I get that." A low roar sounded from the moving leafs. The low roar was so visceral that it chilled John's bones. He could feel the hair crawling up on his back. His eyes got teary. The sound as low as it had been, it was very deliberate. It spoke of power and deadly determination. John tried to bark back in his best angry dog way: "Wrraaaah!" What You Don't Dare The People The thing behind the bush lurched forward. It had firy yellow eyes and a sleek, black fur. John froze for a moment at the side of a panther. The panther was flying through the air in a majestic 15 foot leap. Unstoppable, the panther was shooting through the air. John envisioned the sharp claws sinking into his flesh and the fangs sinking in somewhere around his neck. He rose his knife high and pointed vaguely and the large cat shooting towards him. The teeth were yellow and threateningly wide open. The tongue was pink and thin and pulled back. The nose was scrunched up to bear more of the teeth. About 130 lbs. of black muscle were shooting towards him. The unbelievable happened. The naked woman was running and jumping up and clashed with the panther midair. The two bodies collided and landed somewhere in the bushes. They wrapped their bodies around each other. He saw the beautiful ivory back of the woman with her spinal muscles being two strong columns next to her spine. The soft-fured black path wrapped around her shoulder. The giant yellow teeth dug deeply into her shoulder. The naked woman was fighting ferociously. It was Lucy! Then a huge plum of fire burst into the air. It was utterly bright to blind his eyes. The next split second the heat hit his face. He instinctively and instantly closed his eyes. He could smell the burn of his own body hair acrid in his nose. When he opened his eyes again, he was in that black, cool cave. He was in front of the water pool. Someone was holding him down, inching his face toward the water as if to drown him. He struggled against it. "Who is your employer?" "I work for the United States government!" "What is project Cassandra?" John jerked! He found himself sleeping on the bar with his heads on his arms. Angelo was tending to the bar. The panic was still pulsing in his veins. He could barely catch his breath. He held onto the rough wood plank as the bar top hard with both arms and straight elbows. He feared that he might be moving back into a dream or simply fall over from dizziness. "You were passed out for an hour," said Angelo calmly. "She's calling you, isn't she?" "Something like that. She fought a black panther to save me. I would have been dead without her," stammered John dazed. "That's a fight between siblings. The black panther is his spirit animal." "How can you be so calm, Angelo?" "It's all superstition, isn't it? And by tomorrow evening, we'll be on the other side of the island." "Do I have a spirit animal?" asked John. "It's a duck. You talk way too much. You keep telling me about codes in your sleep. I don't think the United States Military likes you talking about those or whomever you work for, birdwatcher," replied Angelo. "I'm a puny, little duck!?" "Don't you know the movie 'The Mighty Ducks.' It's about an ice hockey team that starts as the underdogs and wins in the end. Don't underestimate the underdog. I believe in you, Johannes!" said Angelo with a blissful smile that was in steep contrast to John's horror face. John staggered to his hut. There was a bouquet of flowers on the table. In the center was an egg. It was an odd kind of egg. It was the size of the half a thumb. The shell was soft like skin. There was a small line of blood. The egg was torn not cracked. The empty shell had sunken into itself. John shook his head. Psychological tactics to disrupt the enemy were flashing through his head. He had never seen such an exquisite game. His hut was open. Anyway could come in and out as he or she pleased. He set up his intrusion device. The laser was softly lighting up the room as it darted around the room at such speed that it appeared as a general lighting of the room to the human eye. He wrapped himself into the mosquito net. He was knocked out cold right away. In the morning, the morning light was more blue and more cold than the midday sun. He opened his eyes. He was very relieved to find himself in the same spot that he had gone to sleep. And he was not caught in a weird dream. It was cold. He was shivering. He was very sweaty. When he sat up, he was out of breath from the simple movement. When he got to his feet, he felt light headed. His vision got blurry. He touched his forehead. His skin felt fiery hot. He had an intense fever. There was an intense itch on his right foot. He staggered out of the hut into the dirt road. "I have malaria," he mumbled. Everything was blury. Everything was moving. He had to reach a hospital. He had one task to survive: Reach medical aid. His hand grabbed the door handle. The glass was still scattered on the seat. He wiped it down. He got in. He turned on the engine. He tried to focus on where to drive. He could not focus long enough to make up his mind. His head dropped forward. Maria came running to the door. She opened the door. She pulled on his arm to get his attention. He raised his head and looked straight at her: "I have malaria." She pulled him out of the Range Rover. She guided him back to the bed. He was weakly pleading with her. "I'll die without advanced medical help. Don't put me back to bed." He was helplessly lying on his back. Maria searched his body. She pulled up his underpants. She turned him on his side to see his back. When she found his right foot. She stopped. She pressed it with her thumb. Angelo came into the hut, drawn in from the commotion. Angelo's face looked sorrowfully. Then he searched the room. It didn't take long to find the egg shell. "He's poisoned John with a baby viper. John must have a protective spirit that he is still alive. Those usually kill within five minutes," stated Angelo. "No, Malaria," murmured John out of his partial consciousness. "There is only one way that he'll survive," stated Maria grimly. "I don't like it. If she is willing to use her magic to save him, he'll try to kill him again." "I'll get Lucy," stated Angelo seriously. Maria was holding John's forehead, while Angelo was gone. "Bring me to a hospital," pleaded John with no strength left at him at all. He was whispering toward the ceiling in general. Lucy appeared in the doorway. She looked at John with a stricken face. Her heart string was tucked looking at the ashen, sweat soaked face between life and death, deeply in delirium, helplessly mumbling, dressed in completely dirty clothes, stinking like a withered cabbage in a city dumpster. "I caused that?" she asked ruefully. "Yes, your unconscious desire for him and your raw magic together with your evil brother is bringing down this man. He is not innocent. Yet, he has done us no harm. And he was quite handsome, when he arrived before he was ravished. You have to give him your medicine," insisted Angelo. "I swore to not go down the path of voodoo magic. Our bloodline was killed for a purpose. The island spirits have rested for a hundred years. We have turned a new leaf. Magic is too dangerous," lectured Lucy. "He's fading quickly. I can barely feel his pulse anymore." Angelo was squatting at John's head and feeling the pulse at the jugular artery. Maria had no patience. She grabbed the hem of Lucy's dress and pulled it up. Lucy was suddenly in her underwear. Through the deep drowsiness, John raised his eyes open wider to catch a glimpse of the red bra and snuck panties. The no nonsense Maria pulled the panties down Lucy's long, muscular legs and over Lucy's toes. Letting herself be guided, Lucy squatted down over John's face. Angelo raised John's head to Lucy's snatch. "Drink," Angelo encouraged John. Brashly, Angelo pressed John's head against Lucy's snatch. "Stick your tongue out," pleaded John. John could smell the musk scent of Lucy's pussy. His lips were pressed apart by the hard mound of Lucy's pubic bone. And then he stuck is tongue out. And he had a thought, why don't I leave my tongue out here? It tastes good. It feels good. It takes no more effort to leave my tongue here than to put it back in my mouth. Letting her pussy aroma seep into his mouth, he eventually took a suckling gulp. He could feel her labia spread open. His tongue grew invigorated to explore her slit to search for that cave that might have more juice. Angelo moved John's head left and right, so that John's nose would flick over Lucy's clitoris. "You know, Angelo, this is not the sexiest moment. I don't know how I am supposed to secret enough medicine to cure him," questioned Lucy. "Maybe, he has a pretty cock," suggested Angelo. Angelo let go off John's head. He moved around the mattress to pull John's underwear down. It was a medium length, yet stout, and circumcised cock. It lay flat on John's belly. Lucy took it into her fingers and played with it. "It's a pretty nice one. I like the shape." She squeezed the tip. John's tongue came increasingly alive. It was trying to edge into her canal to find drops of her juice. He explored the crevices underneath her labia. He wrapped his hot mouth around her clit and sucked on it. "Oh, he's coming to life," moaned Lucy. John turned into what is referred to as a hard liquor. Lucy whined. "He's hurting me. No, letting him suck, his ferocity is turning me on." John got up on his knees and flipped Lucy on her back. He was inseparable from her pussy. "Oh, my goodness, I haven't been that ravished in a long time." All kinds of sensuous feelings raced from her pussy to all over her skin. Her cheeks blushed from the growing arousal. John was moving around with vigor to get his arms around her thighs to get a stronger hold on her. John passed out. He was back in that cave with the pool. Only now his eyes could see much better in the cave. Olgues was there with him. Olgues was pacing. John was hanging from the ceiling with his arms tied together. "What is project Cassandra?" droned Olgues over and over. "My name is John Bullwrong. My ID is 324579. I'm a United States Marine," repeated John each time to the question with stern yelling words. John came back around. He was lying on the mattress. Maria, Angelo, and Lucy were looking down at him worried. He could still smell Lucy's pussy on his face. It made him very, very happy, regardless of what situation he was in. John raised his arms and sat up. "I feel splendid," exclaimed John. He was looking at his arms and legs. Sure, he looked filthy. Yet, he felt strong enough to uproot trees. "He's got a good dose of your magic," sniped Angelo. There was a ponderous moment. "I'm going to leave with him over the mountains. You know that I have to. And you know that I love you both." Maria, the goodhearted woman, had tears in her eyes. Lucy had a pang of pain losing her only confident and friend. John was cheery as a bird trying to hold back saying, "I've gotten the most awesome pussy of my life." "You have to move soon. The general's forces are advancing on this village. Either they are after John, or they are after Olgues for using voodoo magic to take Dieter out of the presidential election," explained Maria. John strapped on the backpack. It felt surprisingly light. Angelo eagerly took John by the hand and pulled him into the forest. John went through his mental checklist: "#1 Mission completed. #2 Survived the night. #3 Evacuating across the mountain. #4 Beach side resort with bikini girls and margaritas." The thoughts invigorated him. The stormed towards the high mountains that peaked occasionally through the tree canopy. Half hour in, John took a break. "We have to take regimented breaks. It's a marathon not a sprint," explained John. Both sat down heavily, panting. They felt the ground rumble under their butts. It rumbled a second and third time. "Earthquake," asked Angelo. "No, mortar shells," explained John. "I've felt enough of them in my life to recognize them. A few minutes later, a plume of smoke rose up behind them, where the village was. The smoke had a yellowish hue. "Mustard gas," exclaimed John. A panicked thought about Lucy raced across his mind. In a blind run, he ran back to the village. Angelo went after him, yet couldn't keep up. He only slowed when the air got hazy. The poison gas was already dissipating. He stormed into Lucy's hut. She was lying lifeless on the floor. He grabbed her naked body and lifted it up. He carried her out into the sunlight. The sun painted light around her nipples. He cried tears on her chest. Her body felt so good in his arms. "I love you," he cried. "I should have never left you." He walked around aimlessly in the road. Angelo caught up to him, "Bring her to her cave. The magical place might rescue her." John ran into the forest. He hugged her close to him. He found the barren, rocky clearing. He held her tight and jumped down the hole into the pool. He was treading water and pulling her to the shore. She was still lifeless. Olgues was squatting in the cave and waiting for him, "I'll bring her back if you tell me what project Cassandra is." "Project Cassandra is a set of contingency plans to assassinate any presidential candidate in the election. It's based on a revenue calculation of projected energy production..." John splurged out the details of the project. Olgues carefully watched John and nodded every once in a while. When John finished, he told Lucy, "Lucy, you can get up now. You've done your job. My assistant will pay you." Immediately, Lucy opened her eyes and walked out of his embrace. John was dazed at how Lucy moved extremely matter of fact, unfazed by anything that had happened. John looked around himself. He wasn't in a cave. He was in a cell. There was a solid metal door. There were two syringes in a tray with labels of a hallucinogenic drug. Olgues was a soldier with the rank and insignia removed. Lucy looked like a regular street hooker. Almost out of the door, Lucy turned around and walked up to the stunned John. She spat a huge glob into his face. "You filthy traitor pig." She gathered her clothes in a bunch and walked out naked. Olgues or whoever he was giggled like a little boy. "She didn't like playing her role in this beautiful story. You, John, on the other hand did splendidly." Anger buzzed between Lucy's and John's glare. Lucy hated having to give her body to interrogate the traitor. John hated the disgust and spit in his face. Olgues closed his notebook satisfied. Lucy walked back to the door. The guard reached for the door handle with a smirk at the ultimate deception that he had witness. "I'll tell you about project Meteorite," called out John. Olgues perked up confused and eager, recognizing that he had let his guard down. "The condition is that I get to fuck Lucy for real." "You've been in here for 400 days. You've resisted waterboarding. I've offered you your freedom. I've offered you a trunk of gold. And for a little pussy of this street skunk, you want to give up project Meteorite," pondered Olgues. Lucy ripped the door out of the guards hand in an attempt to escape before Olgues could change her mind. "Guard, bring Lucy back. The audience demands an encore," ordered Olgues. "John, I've picked her up at the canals. Right where all the industrial sewage goes out into the ocean. It's the filthiest of filthy places. She was selling her body there. Only the nobodies are down there. She looked like she had a cruel pimp. I offered her freedom in exchange for a little help here. Look at her body. She is beautiful. There are many beautiful girls in our republic. You could have had her for a pack of cigarettes," taunted Olgues. John pulled Lucy clothes with one hand. With the other he aimed his cock and jammed it inside of her in one rough push. Lucy's face was a cold stone wall an inch from his. He bit his lip in anger. "That filthy traitor pig is deeply inside of you. And you can't do anything about it. Your hole is open for anyone and anything to be pushed in. He thrust into her with stiff, pronounced thrusts, as if he was given her a measure beating. His eyes were as cold as hers. He used his penis as a cool instrument to pay her back for the spitting into his face. And a dozen thrusts in, his primal biological wiring took over feeling code about getting his cock stroked. He thrust her onto the ground to ramp her for real with his hips undulating passionately. She couldn't deny her primal programming either. She wrapped her legs around his hips and started receiving his thrusts. Tears started streaming over her melted makeup face at the realization of melting passion despite the filth of the prisoner. His lips hungrily surrounded her lips. The moist heat melted her pressed lips to surrender. Her mouth started sucking on his. Her arms reached for unknown places on his back. She was caressing him. "I want your cock in my womb," she moaned. The guard drew close to get a better look at the live-action porn, "I've never seen a woman being raped turn around to enjoying it." Olgues rubbed his chin, "me neither. Where did you pick her up again?" "The usual place, where I always pick up street walkers," replied the guard. "I fear you have become too predictable. Draw your gun! We are in for one mean surprise. She played us." "They are naked and unarmed," deflated the guard. "I'm not hanging around to find out how I got tricked," said Olgues and left the cell in a stormy escape. "You guard them. Shoot them if necessary." The guard raised his gun and looked around flustered at the humping couple in the throes of passion. Getting a better idea, he ran out of the cell leaving the door part way open. "Hi, project Cassandra, I am project Meteorite," said John with a suave voice. "I'm trained in advanced psychological tactics to destabilize the enemy." "I'm impressed how you fucked your way out of the regime's top secret interrogation bunker," replied Lucy batting her eyes like the real spy that she was.