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Explorer
972 Posts |
 Posted - September 15 2007 : 03:50:34 AM
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Although this Fic is not "explicit" by modern literary standards, it is rated Mature, and should be read with that in mind. Those who are still subject to parental supervision or who may live in very restrictive societies should read with caution. The story is meant for an adult audience. READING FURTHER AFFIRMS THAT YOU ARE OF LEGAL AGE (USUALLY 18) TO READ ADULT-THEMED MATERIAL IN YOUR LOCATION, AND THAT YOU WILLINGLY AND KNOWINGLY SOUGHT TO READ SUCH MATERIAL. It is set after the Third Season on TV, without regard for the cancelled Fourth Season. All three of the couples in the Treehouse are engaged: John and Marguerite, George and Finn, and Ned and Veronica.
This is for Jovanna, one of her country's brightest young minds, and a fan of Marguerite Krux!
"On Her Own"
by Explorer
"I bet that George would like this one best," mused Nicole Finnegan as she turned the carved jade statuette of a stylized human figure in her hands.
Her friend Marguerite Krux glanced over at it. They were standing in the Zanga Indian bazaar in a village on a remote plateau in northern Brazil. Nicole, usually known to her friends by her nickname of Finn, was shopping the wares of an old Zanga craftsman whose work had caught the young blonde's eye as they browsed the bazaar with their hostess and close companion, Veronica Layton.
"It isn't without interest," conceded Marguerite. "The workmanship is admittedly exquisite, and I suspect that it has strong Mayan overtones that would interest your beloved 'genius' ". She smiled to take any sting from her words, but both knew that Nicole was being teased for her devotion to her man, Professor George Challenger, leader of their little expedition. Slightly in awe of Challenger, Nicole often called him, "Genius" as a pet name. It has been said that familiarity breeds contempt, but in this case, the opposite was true. At first somewhat of a smart alec and a bit sarcastic toward her friends after she had been rescued from the horror of her own society in 21st Century New Amazonia, Finn had grown more fond of them, and of Challenger in particular. Now more polished and better educated than she had been, Finn had grown to respect and love each of her companions. But in the two years that she had known him, she had come not only to love Challenger; she was a little overwhelmed that he should be so brilliant as she had discovered him to be. And that he should love her left her feeling humble and thankful. There was some truth in the other girls' playful taunt that Finn nearly worshipped the man. Now, she wanted to please him by buying him some item from the bazaar that he would treasure not just because it had come from her, but because it would arouse his scientific curiosity.
"How much do you think I should offer for this?", asked Finn. "It really is well made and I just know that the Genius would like it. Look how the light catches the jade as I turn it. Isn't this, like, awesome?!" She stroked it appreciatively, thoughtfully.
"How much were you thinking of giving?" countered Marguerite. "However much, it's probably excessive. One can't expect a blonde to know the value of things." She smirked, looking out the corner of her eye to be sure that Finn felt gouged by her barb. Sarcasm was characteristic of Marguerite, even when she did it in fun, to prick her companions in jest. Fortunately, she had eased off considerably since her arrival here four years before.
"Cool it, Marguerite," said the third woman of their number. "I get tired of being hassled about being blonde, and I bet that Finn does, too. We aren't as stupid as legend suggests. We've certainly pulled your brunette hide out of the fire on occasion." She smirked a bit, herself, to the entertainment of her longtime Zanga friend, Assai, and the fifth woman in their group, Sa'eera, youngest wife of Zanga king Jacoba. Assai shook her head in amusement. Sa'eera laughed out loud. She was also a blonde, via a hair formula concocted by Challenger to color her naturally brown hair. Sa'eera was half white, fathered by a man who had been an associate of Veronica's dead father. (Her mother was still missing after 15 years, her fate unknown.)
"I don't know what to offer for it, Marguerite. That's why I'm asking your wise counsel," retorted Finn. "You know how to bargain with primitive people in bazaars all over the world. What do I know? I was born here and raised in the ruins of a world gone mad. I'm still getting used to being able to just go to the Zanga mall here and buy things. It beats hell out of not knowing where to find even my next meal, I can tell you."
"Ouch!" winced Veronica. "Touche, Finn. Marguerite, lay off of her. She really wants your help. She trusts you, and she's earned your assistance. You'd probably have died in that cell in Xochilenque if Finn and George hadn't risked their lives to save yours." She arched her eyebrows meaningfully at the dark-haired woman.
"Oh, all right!" snapped Marguerite. "Finnykins, I apologize. I was just having fun with you. Offer this chap some trifle and see if he 'bites'. It's best not to start the bidding too high. He's going to want more than you offer, whatever amount it is. That's how merchants are. Make him take less than he wants, if he wants to sell that grotesque thing. Still, the jade is pretty, and George would like the Maya or Aztec resemblance."
Finn fumbled for a small gold coin in her pouch, worn like a purse on a sling over her shoulder. It held money, a few other trinkets that might have trade value, a comb, lipstick, a mirror, and a box of ammunition for her Mannlicher-Schoenauer rifle. The coin had come from the dreaded Tecamaya city of Xochilenque, from which the adventurers had taken a treasure of enormous value. (See my Fic, "The Crystal Skull" in Fiction at: www.americanbty12.proboards62.com )
"That coin is worth far more than this savage needs," grumped Marguerite. "You are much too generous, Nicole. It's sweet of you, but you'd go broke without me to help you bargain."
"Well, what should I offer then, Marguerite? And cool it about this guy being a savage. Our Zanga pals will hear you, and he's a respected member of their tribe. I bet he's one of their best artists, and that jade statuette took a lot of work to shape and to carve. And it's for George. I'm willing to give the man a good price for it."
Marguerite sighed theatrically, inferring that she was long put upon by inferior beings, but was prepared to suffer graciously for them. "Sweetie, why don't you put the little statue down and you and the other girls drift off and look at something else. I'll do that, too. Then, in a few minutes, I'll wander back over here and see what the man will settle for to let it go. I bet I get you a good price."
Finn, who was considerably brighter than Marguerite pretended that blondes were likely to be, knew this technique. If it pleased her friend to act imposed upon to help her, she knew that Marguerite was not really being condescending. She was playing a role, apparently designed to bolster her own self image and to tease her friends. It pleased Marguerite Krux to feel needed, and she liked to think of herself as worldly, which she in fact was. The needy sophisticate, mused Finn, but said nothing aloud. She also knew how easily wounded her worldly near sister was. For much of her life, she had felt unloved, and had taken refuge in her image. The sarcasm and pretended superiority were her way of dealing with her lack of self esteem.
Finn knew that she shared some of Marguerite's esteem issues, and she was still amazed that she had been able to capture the heart of one of history's greatest scientific minds. Just as Marguerite had only recently accepted the place in her own man's heart that she had won after much self doubt... That Lord John Roxton had come to love her, former jewel thief, onetime slave to an Arab master, and double agent in wartime still thrilled Marguerite. She tried to be more blase than Finn about being in love, but both women actually marvelled that they were loved so openly and genuinely.
"Okay, Marguerite, lets' get some punch over at that refreshment stand and you can come back here and deal with this guy later. But take a good look at this statue. It looks a lot like his others, but I just know that this is the one that George would like best."
"I don't doubt that," quipped her British Treehouse mate. "I sometimes think that you know George better than he does, himself. He's lucky to have you looking after him. All right. I've seen the bloody little troll that you want. Lets' get some limeade or guava juice or whatever it is that the refreshment stand lady is hawking this afternoon. I feel sure they haven't got any tea, like civlized people would."
Finn looked anxiously at her. "Sure that you'll remember the right jade thingee? Okay, okay: don't look at me that way! I believe you. Hey, Marguerite, will you and John teach me how to behave in a London tea shop? I don't want to embarrass George when we finally get to one." Finn knew somehow that she and the others would get off of the Plateau and reach Britain. Her man had said they would, and she believed him. And she wanted to know how to behave when they did.
Marguerite softened, for she loved Finn deeply. They had endured many adventures together, and she knew what it was like to be apprehensive about whether one would be accepted. She took Finn's hand and they strolled over to the refreshment stand together. The other girls followed, chattering away in the Zanga tongue, which Veronica spoke fluently. She should, for she had been born here, and this tribe had raised her for much of her childhood.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - September 15 2007 : 8:12:58 PM
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Finn tugged Marguerite over to the refreshment "stands", where Zanga women sold food and drink on bazaar days.
They bought drinks of fruit juice, and vegetables with meat of deer, peccary, and tapir. Marguerite chose fowl, probably from chickens raised in the village. The food was served on huge leaves of a local tree.
Both women sat on stone benches and began eating, chatting about the trip, the jade statuette, and some cloth that they wanted to use in making replacement garments for their original clothes. Most of their cloth came from Zanga looms or what Veronica wove on her mother's loom in the huge Treehouse that they shared. More sophisticated fabrics like a faux satin, were devised by Challenger, who used natural silk from silkworms, too. This was used for undergarments, which Finn designed, to reflect 21st Century tastes. The resulting lingerie was much briefer than that known in 1923, the present year, and both Marguerite and Veronica had taken to these undies with enthusiasm. Finn had often dreamed of owning those that she had seen in old catalogs or on the few women who had retained or made such things after the disaster that had devastated her society.
Now, the fiancee of one of the great scientific geniuses of all time, she had the opportunity to have these wonderful, sexy clothes. Sometimes, Marguerite helped her in designing, for she had quickly grasped the concept and had enormous fashion sense.
For a time, they had mulled over the idea of offering a line of sexy lingerie in Paris and in London when they left the Plateau, but had regretfully decided that the moral temper of the times would probably not let them reach mass markets with bikini briefs, pushup or demi bras, thongs, and similar items. But Marguerite knew that certain women would pay well for these when bought privately, to impress their men and to feel free and desirable. They planned an underground market to please such women and themselves, laughing as they plotted.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - September 15 2007 : 8:47:09 PM
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Finn rose to go after more rice and yams from a vendor, and Veronica cast an envious eye on her virtual sister. Finn and Marguerite were blessed with excellent metabolisms and ate pretty much what they desired, within reason. Veronica, on the other hand, had sometimes to think of her figure, and be glad that her active lifestye let her retain her looks whle eating as much as she dared. That was not usually as much as the other women were able to enjoy without ill effects. She soothed her bruised ego by reflecting that she had the best bosom of the three, something not lost on most men whose eyes she felt on her. She sat up straighter and adjusted her top to display a little more flesh. It was a small thing, and more vain than she had once been. But living with two other attractive women and seeing how their men reacted had made her more concious of such matters.
Sa'eera saw, and checked her own neckline. Her brief green floral print top was cut so as to let her display her charms, and she basked in male attention, as did her friend Finn. Both were teased for this by their close female friends, and by Jacoba's other wives, in Sa'eera's case.
Finn sat down again beside Marguerite and asked, "Hey, is it too soon to go back and see what that guy will take for George's statuette? I don't want anyone else buying it out from under us." She looked pleadingly at Marguerite, whose heart was stirred to pity, if also amusement. Finn was so honest and open in her adoration of Challenger and in her constant nurturing of him...Then, it struck Marguerite just how much Challenger's love meant to the young survivor of harsh times, who had lost all of those whom she had loved in her own day. What she and George Challenger shared must seem to Finn like an unexpected opening of Paradise!
Marguerite's heart went out to Finn and she took her hand and smiled. "I'll do my best, Finnykins, but I can't promise anything. Just pay me back whatever I manage to get that thing for. I'm going to start by offering him a few of those iron needles that John makes." She rose and straightened her khaki skirt, adjusted her gunbelt, and headed for the jade vendor.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - September 15 2007 : 9:17:40 PM
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Marguerite had a mischievous thought and returned, asking Sa'eera to go with her, for companionship. Sa'eera thought that mildly odd, for she knew that Marguerite was not usually especially forthcoming with "native" girls. Her closest white friend was Finn, just as Assai was especially close to Veronica. Still, Marguerite had taught her Middle Eastern dance, and she had earned many a pleased accolade from her Royal husband when she performed for him.
Curious, she agreed to join Marguerite and the girls excused themselves.
"What do you suppose that is about?", asked Veronica.
Assai shrugged, looking puzzled. Finn smirked. "I bet that Marguerite wants one of Jacoba's wives with her while she bargains, to intimidate that craftsman into selling to her for a low price."
They all laughed at this, admitting that such a tactic was clever on Marguerite's part.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - September 16 2007 : 06:28:33 AM
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Some 20 minutes later, Marguerite returned. Sa'eera was nowhere to be seen.
"Well?", demanded Finn. "Did you get it? And, where's Sa'eera?"
Marguerite had a sad expression as she sat beside Finn. "Nicole, I may have been wrong to tell you not to buy that thing with your gold. He had only one. I'm sorry, but it has been sold."
"What?!", exclaimed the disgusted Finn. "Marguerite, you jerk! Next time, let me splurge a little if I'm willing. George would have loved that creepy little Mayan-like god or whatever it was, He'd probaby find out who it was supposed to be, too. Well, which ones were left? The pyramid wasn't bad. Maybe the Genius would like it..."
"Did you promise to bring him something? Maybe George isn't expecting anything, so he won't be disappointed if you don't bring something. The main thing that he REALLY wants is for you to come home safe and sound. Right?" Marguerite reached out and hugged Finn as if comforting her.
Finn shrugged free, a pout on her face. "It's okay, Marguerite. You meant well. I'll just go over and see if that little pyramid is left. It was cute." She rose to go to the jade vendor.
"You can get the pyramid if you like. It's still there. But I thought that what you wanted was that grotesque little heathen god." Marguerite suppressed a smile.
"Well, gee, Marguerite," exclaimed the younger woman, "Yeah! But how the hell am I supposed to get it now that it's been sold?!" Marguerite could be so vexing at times...
Marguerite motioned, and Sa'eera emerged from behind a large tree. She was grinning and she held the very statuette that Finn had desired. She and Marguerite broke into laughter at the same time, and Finn realized that she'd been "had".
Veronica caught on and told Assai to look. Soon, all five women were enjoying Marguerite's little joke. But Finn could have done without it, had she been given a choice...
"I said that it had been sold, Finnykins. I didn't say to whom. I bought it for four needles and one of those trade knives that John forges. You owe me, Blondebrain! How about dusting the Treehouse the next time Veronica bugs me to do that?" Her dislike of housework was well known.
Finn looked serious. "Johnny works hard to make those knives. Those blades are all hand forged. Marguerite, you should have just let me pay with the coin. Okay, I'll do some housework for you. The main thing is, George gets the jade carving. I think he'll love it. And, to answer your question: no, he isn't especially expecting me to bring him anything. But the look on his face when I do is worth more to me than gold." She beamed, thinking of how Challenger would react on seeing the trinket.
Marguerite sniffed dramatically. "Clearly, you will never be a success as a banker or tax collector, Finnykins. You value decency, love, and happiness above riches."
Veronica intervened. "Marguerite, you're trying to be funny, and it is sort of cute. But I'm glad that Finn does think that way. She's one of the sweetest and best friends that we could ask for. And she and George are both rich enough for life with the loot that we took out of Cuautehmoc's treasure vault. Let her spend what she wants next time if it means getting something before someone else buys it. Finn, finish lunch and think of us girls who starve ourselves in hopes of looking as trim as you do. We need to finish shopping and start back before dark. What time is it?" Veronica had never worn a watch.
Finn dug out her Patek Phillipe pocket watch, carried in her purse. It was in a fine leather pouch made for her by Roxton, to prevent the valuable timepiece from being scratched. Like a number of her other prized possessions, it had been taken from the dead slavers who had held her and Marguerite for a time the previous year. Finn had been told the value of this watch, and she was impressed. But she treasured it mainly for its beauty, the Roman numerals on the face, and the hunting scene carved into the gold case. And she loved being able to own a watch for the first time in her life. Not to mention the advantage of being able to tell time. That could be useful, even here in the jungle.
"It's about ten minutes till two," she announced. She picked up the jade carving and ran her fingers lovingly over it. It really was a nice piece of work.
"Why not stay tonight with us?, " asked Asaai. "Cousin, will Jacoba not host our other guests if Veronica stays with me? Maybe Marguerite will give you more dancing lessons." Her eyes twinkled.
Sa'eera agreed that her lord and master would host the other two women, especally if Marguerite would dance for him.
"We can shop all we want and swim too, if you stay tonight, and I can finish weaving that cloth that you want." Assai missed Veronica now that she no longer lived in her village.
Finn shrugged. "V., I'll stay if you want. But we need to tell the boys that we're okay. None of them understands drum signals. We can't just not tell them. Ned, Johnny, and George would go nuts, thinking that raiders or dinosaurs had gotten us." She was disappointed not to take the carving straight to Challenger, but relished the idea of frolicking in the pool downriver with her friends whom she hadn't seen for over a month. Alone for so much of her life, she loved having female companions to play with. And they did need that cloth from Assai.
Marguerite blanched at the thought of staying the night in a native hut. And she missed John Roxton too much to linger here, once her shopping was finished.
"I'll go back by myself and take word to the men that you're fine. I'll even help them make dinner. It might be fun being the only woman there, for a change. I daresay that they'll all be very gallant and will probably spoil me rotten." Marguerite also wanted to finish some sewing. Certainly, she did not relish a night spent here.
Veronica shrewdly guessed what was in her brunette friend's mind and why. She regarded Marguerite as an elitist, and wasn't happy with her British pal's aversion to "natives." This was less pronounced than it once was, but Marguerite's nature just didn't allow for much more than basic civility toward the Zanga, apart from Sa'eera and Assai. She shared psychic impressions with the shaman, Xma'Klee, but didn't really have a close bond with him. And she surely wasn't thrilled at Jacoba's likely insistence that she dance for him, no doubt having shed most of her clothing for the purpose. What she would do in the Treehouse wasn't necessarily what she wanted to display here.
"Marguerite, we'll all have to go back together. It's too dangeous for you to go alone. Assai, Sa'eera, will you excuse us if we decline your kind offer? " Veronica wanted to stay with her Zanga friend, but knew that the reality of the situation precluded that.
Finn was willing to stay with Veronica, her first and best friend here ever, other than George Challenger. She shared some of Marguerite's aversion to "natives", but Sa'eera and she were firm friends, she wanted that swim, and to shop more. If Jacoba wanted a white girl to undress and swing her loins to music for him to see, well, Finn was not above occasional acts of exhibitionism, if the circumstances were right. It thrilled her to know that men liked looking at her. Her heart was with Challenger, but her ego was still open to being appreciated by others. She was willing to join Sa'eera in a performance that would much please the king, and one never knew when his favor might be needed in this savage land. Sa'eera could loan her a spare loincloth and halter top. And Finn danced nearly as well as could Marguerite. It should be fun!
Finn told everyone that she would stay with Veronica if Marguerite could convince them that she would be safe on the way home.
Marguerite argued that they had often used the path to the Treehouse, which branched off from a game trail within half a mile of their aerial dwelling. It was still daylight, and she would travel fast. And she had her rifle. Why worry?
A discussion ensued, and Marguerite won. She would shop for a few minutes more, than head for home. The others reluctantly agreed, not at all sure that this was wise. Still, they knew her aversion to staying here, and they did need to show their respects to Jacoba and Xma'Klee and their families. Finn consoled herself that she and Sa'eera could find a private place and practice with their slings. Use of weapons other than kitchen knives being basically forbidden to Zanga women, they had to sneak off to practice with them. It was a tradition with Sa'eera and Finn that they enjoyed violating this taboo.
So it was that Marguerite returned to the Treehouse alone that day. Had she known what lay in store for her, she might well have reconsidered her eagerness to travel on her own.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - September 17 2007 : 03:26:20 AM
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She walked out of the village easily, rifle on her right shoulder, canteen freshly filled, her step light and spry. She felt good, and had enjoyed lunch and the companionship.
But she really hadn't wanted to linger in the primitive kraal of the native chief, who was often pompous and dictatorial. He was moody, and Marguerite didn't like playing to the attitudes of savages. A few of his people rose above the norm, and Marguerite actually liked Assai and Sa'eera. But they were exceptions, and she also wanted to reach home soon to spend the night in John Roxton's bed, not on a crude native couch. Finn and Veronica endured that sort of thing better, having been raised, if that was the word, in less civilized venues than she had been. The Princess and the Pea, that's me, she laughed. My favorite fairy tale.
Home beckoned, and a good cup of coffee, drunk with her preferred friends, although only the men would be there. But they would be gallant, and might not even expect her to make dinner. John would help or Ned, if she did have to labor in the kitchen. Perhaps they would fear letting her prepare their meal, for she was not reknowned for her culinary skills. That was it: Ned and John would probably cook, and she could just smile and bat her eyelashes and charm them. All would be done for her. But she could serve coffee, especially for John.
She blushed as she realized that she looked forward to pouring his coffee and maybe to serving his plate, once dinner was ready. Now that she had fallen so completely for this wonderful man, it was the most natural thing in the world to want to wait on him, to some degree. The knowledge that she wanted to take care of him, and not just in bed, had been a clanging alarm call to her that she was in love. For the first time in her life, she truly WANTED to take care of a man's needs. Finn had been right when she told Marguerite that being in love made a woman want to nurture her man, and that if she managed to at least cook eggs wthout burning them, she would feel more fulfilled and feminine. The other girls had given her a crash course in egg frying, and she had indeed felt pretty good when she had set eggs before Roxton, knowing that she had cooked them herself.
He had been thrilled that she had overcome her fear of the kitchen for him, and had praised her beyond what a normal woman would expect for that degree of effort on his behalf. Maybe in time, she would attempt something more ambitious than breakfast...Not that she was going to routinely spoil Roxton to the level that Finn did Challenger. The idea of buttering his bread was just silly. Not that she hadn't done it a few times, watched with amusement by Finn. Her blonde friend had been razzed for that very thing by Marguerite. But Finn was fun to tease, and she absolutely fawned over her scientist! Marguerite found that excessive, even for Roxton, who would be embarrassed if Margurite took as good care of him as Finn did of George. Well, he PROBABLY would feel that way. Who knew how much a man might like to be cared for, if he could find a woman who would do that for him?! George Challenger was exceptionally fortunate in that regard. Marguerite smiled as she recalled the small, intimate gestures between the Challengers. The casual, affectionate touching, the looks of pure love that passed between them. Maybe they did deserve one another. Although it was sort of unseemly, the way that Finn often sat on George's lap, her arm around him like some hussy in a house of ill repute. Marguerite flushed as she realized that this was exactly what she wanted to do tonight, on John's lap, whether Malone and Challenger looked at her with raised eyebrows or not. At least, Arthur Summerlee wasn't there to chide her, or to give a reproving glance. Arthur had been sweet in some ways, but he could be a bit of a prig, and he had fancied himself to be the expedition's conscience.
The thought of the deceased scientist made Marguerite's eyes water as she remembered how it had been when they were all still together, save for Finn, who had yet to arrive. He could be a moral scold, but she missed Arthur and his contentious discussions with Challenger...
She was jolted from her reverie by a scuttling sound in the brush off the path. It came from ahead and some forty yards distant. Marguerite swung the .303 Lee-Enfield sporting rifle off her shoulder and cycled the bolt, shoving a cartridge into the chamber.
With any luck, this would be nothing sinister, perhaps a hare or a harmless snake or lizard. If it was an agouti or similar rodent that could provide meat for the Treehouse, should she shoot? Probably not, she decided. She was a long way from home, and a few pounds of added weight would be unpleasant, not to mention the issue of keeping blood off of her clothes. She was usually quite content to let the men hunt, or for Finn to join Roxton in what she drolly dubbed the Gun People or the Orion-Diana team.
Now she scanned the jungle ahead carefully. She was already nearly a mile from the gates of the Zanga compound, and no one was there to help if she got into anything serious. At times like this, she wished that she could just shout ROXTON! and John would ride up on a white horse, silver lance in hand, and save her from whatever menace threatened. Men were so useful...when they were there!
Marguerite walked off the path to the left, at the edge, keeping the rifle to her shoulder, her eyes on the area where the scuffling noise had come from. She moved sideways past that point, seeing nothing more, but hearng additional sounds from the jungle beyond vision. Something was definitely there. With luck, it wasn't large and hungry, or maybe it ate plants instead of British brunettes.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - September 18 2007 : 05:00:59 AM
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She was tempted to follow , to see what had caused the sound. But she was also smart enough to know that curiosity killed the cat, and her feline instincts were well honed from a life of adventure in nefarious places. Marguerite decided to leave well enough alone.
Passing on down the trail, she remained watchful and cautious. It was well that she did, for she passed almost within striking range of an eyelash viper coiled on a branch at about neck level. It was vivid green with pale yellow accents, beautiful but dangerous...
Recoiling from the sight of the snake, she swore an unladylike oath and muttered, "Can this day possibly get any better?"
It was a saying so typical of her that her companions twitted her about it, but it still slipped out when she was under stress.
Vexed now that she had uttered this trite comment once again, she walked carefully down the jungle path until she had put the scuffling sound well behind her. Finally, she rocked the safety lever back onto "Safe" and slung her rifle again. She quickened her pace, eager to get home.
The day was hot, and after half a mile, she tired and sat on a fallen tree to rest and to drink from her canteen. "Water bottle", she thought, and laughed at the way she had razzed Ned Malone about the different names in British and American English for this sort of container. To her, a "canteen" was a sort of club or bar that served food and drink. It became "cantina" in Spanish and probably, Portugeuse. Her prodding of Ned had eased her irritation during the recent time that they had stalked the returned demons who sought to force Challenger to tell them how to make some of his inventions that would have let their vile leader, Zoth, control the world.
They had sought to use Finn's safety as a means of forcing her lover to disclose his atomic secrets, but Finn had escaped with the aid of Sa'eera, and Zoth and his minions had paid dearly for their entry into this dimension. (See, "The Death of Zoth" on this board, in Fiction.)
Oh, well: "canteen" or "water bottle", Marguerite was glad to have one, and she quenched her thirst and sloshed some water into a hand to moisten her face and neck. The sun was relentless today, with few clouds to offer respite or hope of rain. Not that rain wouldn't be an added problem...
Finished, she shook the aluminum water bottle to determine how much it still held. About two thirds full. Enough, if she didn't drink when she didn't need to. She would be home in about two hours. What a pity this blasted jungle didn't have decent roads and rail or taxi service. And nice pubs along the way, where one could get a cup of tea and a croissant or sandwich. One of the first things she'd do if they ever made it back to England was to have a cucumber sandwich and a delicious cup of tea. Probably Darjeeling on the tea, she decided.
She ducked as a pair of colorful macaws chased one another past. They landed in a nearby tree and continued squawking at one another.
Gad, she reflected. I hope that John and I never behave that way. She laughed at the blue and yellow birds and marched on, her spirits restored.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - September 20 2007 : 09:19:29 AM
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All went well for nearly another mile. Then, with a sudden crash of hooves, a small herd of wild horses galloped past, something obviously having panicked them. They had wandered into this area from the savannah below, and had found something dreadful, as well as less forage and limited room to run. Horses seldom came this high into the montane jungle and Marguerite was startled to see them.
She had just regained her composure when she learned the cause of the disturbance. The horses had winded carnivorous dinosaurs ahead.
She heard growling and a hoarse scream, and on coming around a bend, saw two allosaurs locked in combat with a stegosaurus. The latter pivoted more quickly than she would have believed that the massive beast could move, and struck one allosaur a stunning blow with the spiked club on its tail. The large carnivore let loose a howl of pain and rage. Its fellow allosaur seized the moment to grasp the plant eater by the throat, low, beneath the armor. A horrendous battle ensured, the second allosaurus joining in as soon as it regained its balance.
Then, Marguerite Krux discovered that this day could indeed get worse.Three more allosaurs came up the trail, intent on reaching the fray and either assisting in killing the stegosaurus and joining in the feast, or perhaps they wished to dispossess the original killlers.
Those two finished off the huge herbivore as Marguerite huddled low, near the trunk of a tree that she hoped would conceal her from their sharp vision. They had ample meat, but might relish a side dish.
When the others arrived, a squabble broke out and the two smallest of the big dinosaurs were driven off of the kill. They left in fury. One saw Marguerite, and scented her. It wheeled and charged, intent on grabbing this morsel to appease the hunger left unslaked by the intended victim.
Marguerite screamed, swung up her rifle and fired. She hoped that she had remembered where to aim, so that her relatively light rifle might kill quickly enough to stop the animal before it was on her.
She had half listened as Roxton, Finn, and Challenger had studied skeletal remains of a Tyrannosaurus rex, devining the shape and thickness of the bones, and studying the passages in the massive skull where a bullet might reach the brain. She remembered John saying that unless one knew just where to shoot an elephant, the frontal brain shot was futile and would result in a dead hunter. Only a small passage in the skull would allow the bullet to reach its mark and save a human facing a charge. So it was with the T-rex and other big carnivores. Failing the brain shot, the best bet might be to break the neck or smash the windpipe. A heart shot would kill, but probably not in time. Reptiles have strong systems and take a while to die, even if mortally wounded.
Marguerite was terrified, and with good cause. Allosaurus was smaller than its successor, the T-rex and similar dinosaurs, but was still large. Some had survived here, having filled the niche of hunting the upper reaches of the jungle, with the T-rex being more likely to be found in drier regions and on the open beaches and savannah. Allosaurs were the equivalent to the leopard in Africa, where it ruled the jungle and mixed forest, with lions being dominant on the plains. Leopards (and allosaurs) could be found anywhere, but the forest was their prime habitat, where they were largely unmenaced by even bigger predators.
Now, she saw her .303 bullet strike the throat just beneath the gaping jaws of the charging beast. The bullet went home, and the animal tripped and fell, struck in the spine. It thrashed mightily, the vertebrae not quite severed. She shot again, hitting the carotid artery, and was rewarded with a shower of blood, pumping out the life of her assailant.
Marguerite heard the other allosaurs respond to the shots and realized that they were trying to scent her and stalk her. One returned to the dead stegosaur, but the others sought her!
Slipping between two large trees that precluded them from seeing her, Marguerite hid her pack under some ferns and shivered among nearby large rocks as the questing beasts paraded past, trying to find her. The air currents shifted in this pocket in the jungle, and the smell of blood and feces from the already dead animals confused the horrid beasts.
Finally, she saw her chance and took it, Bolting across a clearing, she ran briskly into the jungle beyond, off of the trail and deeper into the primeval forest. She ran as fast and as far as she could, sure that at any moment, she would feel the hot breath of a hungry theropod on her neck!
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - September 21 2007 : 08:59:15 AM
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Taking cover at last under a large fern, she realized that her white shirt might give her away to the sharp-sighted theropods. What to do?
She recalled the light blanket that she had bought in the Zanga village, and that it was woven mostly in dark colors. She slipped off her pack and dug it out.
Covering herself under the fern none too soon, she heard an Allosauus tread nearby, sniffing the wind for her scent. Thankfully, the eddies of the evening breeze in this jungle glade confused the scent and the animal growled in a low rumble of frustration in not being able to locate the woman.
Suddenly, something large broke from cover to her right and ran rapidly past. In an instant, the allosaur switched directions and went in pursuit, roaring loudly.
Marguerite huddled in horror under the fern, covered by her thin blanket as another big theropod streaked past. These allosaurs were nearly 30 feet long, and Challenger and Roxton had pointed out tracks of some that must have been even larger!
A scuffle and howls of rage and pain drifted down on the breeze and it was evident that a life and death struggle was taking place some 150 yards from her. The theropods had caught whatever had run past. In the instant that she had seen it in the failing light, it had resembled a duckbilled dinosaur. But those lived along waterways and the beaches of the Inland Sea, where their specialized snouts let them feed on water plants. This was probably a similar looking species that had a beak designed for eating grasses and reeds and similar forage in upland areas. It had no scientific name as yet, none having been discovered in the outside world. Challenger said that he would probably name it for Roxton, who had tracked the first they saw and had called Challenger's attention to it when he located one in his binocular field. They had already named several new species of plant and one other dinosaur after the late Arthur Summerlee, and Challenger felt that it was proper to honor others of the expedition. He had named two new mammals after himself. Given his ego, it was remarkable that there were not more animals bearing his name.
He had promised a wide-eyed, admiring Finn that he would name some species after her, which thrilled her, and amused Marguerite and Veronica. Now that Finn carried Challenger's first child in her womb, she would probably soon find some squirmy reptile bearing her species name. The genus name would be assigned, of course, as science dictated, given its relationships to other animals.
Marguerite thought of Finn and Veronica then and wished that she had decided to stay with them in the Zanga kraal. Or, better yet, that all three had gone home when they should have, but had avoided this frightening reptilian drama. At least, her friends were safe now, probably getting ready to eat supper with Jacoba, his wives, and his courtiers. She wondered what the Great Wife had had prepared for their repast. The thought reminded her of how hungry she was becoming.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - September 22 2007 : 03:01:56 AM
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Back in the Treehouse, Lord John Roxton took out his watch and opened it. He studied the face and saw the late hour, and he saw the setting sun through the window. He grew uneasy, and his face reflected that anxiety as Ned Malone came into the main living area from the kitchen.
Ned noticed the look on Roxton's face and saw the watch in his right hand. That prompted him to check his own watch. Alone among the Treehouse dwellers, Ned wore a wrist watch, something that had gained popularity during the recent world war.
"Isn't it time for the girls to be getting back?" asked Ned.
"It certainly is," mused Roxton. "I'm beginning to worry."
Challenger heard as he ascended the stairs from his lab.
He, too, checked his watch. "Hmmm. This just goes to show what can happen when women are allowed to go shopping on their own. They have probably lost all track of time." He frowned as he saw the lowering sun.
Finn knew better than to linger too late in the Zanga village. He hoped that she had not had some emergency connected with her pregnancy, which they had determined was real soon after defeating Zoth and his retinue of demons about a month prior. At that time, Finn had strongly suspected that she was with child, and now they knew that she was indeed expecting. Challenger had fussed over her ever since, to the amusement and sometimes, the mild pique of the other women, who knew that everything was fine. Nonetheless, they were very supportive of Finn, and thrilled that Challenger and she were going to have the first baby to be born in the Treehouse.
"Shall we do something?" asked Malone.
Roxton and Challenger looked at one another, trying to assess each others' minds. "No", said Challenger, their leader. "It is still too early to become really alarmed, and it is growing dark. We should be unable to find them in the night, and might become lost or injured, ourselves."
Roxton agreed, but added, "If they aren't here within another hour, I want to take a torch and see what we can discover. They may have run out of daylight and need our help to reach home. We needn't go far, but I feel that that much is required."
Challenger relented. "Very well, we can search for a time and see if they are nearby. I cannot rest easy knowing that they are missing. Damn it, Finn knows better than to worry me in this way. I hope that all is well."
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - September 22 2007 : 04:23:36 AM
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In the Zanga village, the Treehouse women were talking happily with Jacoba's and Xma'Klee's wives, and selecting outfits for the evening's entertainment, for Jacoba had indeed asked that they dance for him and his closer advisors and war chiefs.
"I told you so," grinned Finn when the request came, via Assai, the king's favorite daughter. Assai, Veronica, Sa'eera, and Finn all looked at one another and laughed.
"Father is rather predictable in some regards," admitted Assai.
Ta'leea, Jacoba's second youngest wife, brought loincloths and halter tops that she knew would fit the white girls trimly and present them well to her royal husband.
The girls giggled as they looked through the clothes. They undressed and tried on several outfits each. Finn stood before a long mirror at one point, running her hands over her stomach and womb. She looked thoughtfully at her image in the mirror.
"Am I 'showing' too much, Vee?" she asked her best friend.
Veronica decided to pretend to misunderstand. "No. Jacoba will probably love a nearly nude dancer. Why would you think that you're showing too much? You do that when we dance for the boys at home; why not here?" She suppressed a grin. The other women tinkled with laughter, the sound of musical notes. It was true that Finn's dance outfits were briefer than either Marguerite's (save for a spectacular red one), or Veronica's.
"Oh, ha,ha," Finn said drily, smiling at the jest. She did look rather good, she thought. "You know what I mean, 'Sis'. Can you tell that I'm in a family way?"
"No," said Veronica, now serious. "You still look great, Finn. What are you, maybe three months along? You just look like you might have eaten a big meal, if that. Get dressed and lets' go eat. Ta'leea says that we're having roast pork, rice, and yams. That sure sounds good to me. We have pineapple, too, and you like that."
"Cool," said Finn "Where do we put our stuff? Will anyone steal it?"
"No," said Assai. "They know that you are guests of my father and that your things would all be recognizeable. Father deals harshly with thieves. But unload the guns. I'll see that Father places a guard on the door, but some child or curious adult might wander in and play with them. We don't want any accidents."
That done, Veronica selected a deep lavendar loinloth that was narower than she really preferred, but it fit her, and all of the other girls told her how superb she looked in it. Sa'eera helped her to tie the matching top and she helped Finn fasten the top that she had chosen, in dark green. Veronica thought that the panels to Finn's loincloth were too narrow, but said nothing, for her own attire was hardly more...more! Still, it excited her to know that she would soon be assessed by men other than Ned Malone, and she was confident that she would not be found wanting.
Assai chose deep yellow attire, a color that they made with dye tablets that had been molded by Challenger. Sa'eera chose white, which looked wonderful against her tanned skin. Born of an Anglo father, Sa'eera looked for all the world like a European girl with a slight suntan. Yet, on her mother's side, she was Assai's cousin and mighty shaman Xma'Klee's niece. She wore a slender black crocodile belt to support the slim loincloth, and liked the contrast of the black belt and the finely woven, smooth white cloth.
Sandals were provided, and when all was ready, Assai led the women in single file into the great hut used for meetings of the senior elements of Zanga society.
The men saw, some with their wives, for Jacoba had allowed spouses to attend, that they might see and learn to perform as the dancers did. A round of applause broke out, the Zanga slapping their right thighs with their hands. Finn and Veronica blushed, making them look even more desirable. They sat where shown and accepted wooden spoons and wide, thick leaves as plates.
Veronica smelled the pork, and savoured the aroma.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - September 23 2007 : 03:03:01 AM
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Huddling beneath a bush in the jungle, Marguerite took out her compass, but couldn't see the face. Maybe later, when the nearly full moon had risen higher. If she risked lighting a match, someone or something might see or smell it, and this might not be to her benefit.
She slipped away carefully from the allosaurs arguing over their meal, and eventually felt safe enough to rise from hands and knees and walk upright.
She settled at the base of a huge tree, but looked across at a squiggle of motion in the shadows and realized that a large Bushmaster, some 12 feet long, had coiled itself and was looking at her, its forked tongue flickering as it tasted the air, trying to sense what manner of creature she was. Its tail began to vibrate in the dead leaves that were its bed, and she rose quickly and left, seeing the deadly reptile slither forward a few feet after her.
Fighting panic and reminding herself of all the ordeals that she had survived to date, Marguerite stumbled on, trying not to trip and fall in the darkness of the ancient forest.
When her legs warned that they would soon carry her no further, she located a clump of rocks atop a slope. She hoped desperately that the rocks harbored no hidden snakes, centipedes, or scorpions.
Shrugging off her pack, she sank down on a stone and unscrewed the cap to her water bottle. She greedily drank several swallows and shook the bottle. Less than half full now, and it wouild have to last her until she could get more. River water that had not been boiled was unsafe, so she would have to think of a way to boil water, and she had no pan or kettle.
Marguerite rummaged though her pack and found a can of sardines and a few crackers sealed in a tube. She hated sardines, but they had few emergency foods left, and Roxton had insisted that she take a tin of them.
She managed to peel the lid off of the can via a tab, and used the switchblade knife from her boot to pry out the sardines and consume them. The flavor wasn't delectable to her, but she knew that she needed the protein. They had been packed in mustard, making the taste more tolerable.
Washing down the fish and the crackers took more of her precious water.
She was glad of her new lightweight blanket, although the night was not yet cold enough to need it.
She had no knife on her belt, having forgone it, because in her mind she could always have one of the men cut something for her. The spring-opening pocketknife carried hidden in her boot was one that she had stolen from the late Avery Burton: scoundrel, slaver, thief, and general all-round no-good rascal. It was mainly intended as an emergency weapon against humans, and wasn't designed for jungle survival. She longed for Finn's Swiss Army pocketknife, but of course, it wasn't here, nor was its wry, brave, and loyal owner. Finn also wore a small Bowie knife on her gunbelt, made for her by John Roxton two Christmases ago. It could handle most cutting too heavy for a pocketknife. So would Veronica's dagger, but again, neither the blonde vixen who owned it or the knife was here, helping her out on this terrible night. She knew that the basic survival tool in the wilderness was a good knife and she began to regret not carrying one.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - September 23 2007 : 2:17:55 PM
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Marguerite shook her canteen again, lamenting the sloshing noise that told her that not much water remained in it.
She unloaded the magazine of the .303, counting the cartridges. She looked at all five, being sure that none was dirty or corroded, and pressed them back into the magazine and closed the bolt and set the safety. Normally, she would have left the chamber empty, but she was afraid that she might have to shoot on short notice. Operating the bolt made noise, too. That might prove perilous if some large predator was near. So, she left the chamber loaded and the safety on.
She wished that she had exchanged the five-shot magazine of this sporting rifle for a ten shot military magazine. It wouldn't look as trim, but held more cartridges.
She checked the spare rifle ammunition in her purse or pouch. Just 20 more rounds...She opened a flat yellow box of the the Kynoch softpoint hunting loads, and rolled the cartridges around in her hand, the clinking of the brass cartridge cases being music to her ears. She put it away and checked the spare revolver ammunition in her belt pouch. Just twelve rounds (shots) ...and she hadn't brought more in her purse. That, and the six in the gun would have to do, but she would try not to shoot at anything unless she saw a chance to kill some animal for food after the sun rose in the morning. Until then, she would remain here and try to be quiet.
She took out the revolver and swung out the cylinder. Yes, all six chambers were loaded. She dumped out the cartridges and closed the gun and pulled the trigger a few times. It worked fine, very smooth and reliable. This wasn't the her usual gun, a top-opening model by the same maker that shot a .38 cartridge,but shorter and of less power than this one used.
What she had been wearing for the past two weeks was a Smith & Wesson like Finn's, but with a barrel an inch shorter, at four inches. It had the optional rounded butt profile, whereas Finn's had the more common square butt. Both guns had finely checkered walnut grip panels with a gold medallion bearing the manufacturer's initials at the top of each panel. Like Finn's gun, Marguerite's had been recovered from the weapons owned by Burton's now dead slavers, over a year ago. The two .38's had actually been kept in a supply room, and were new in the boxes, never having been used.
Finn and Roxton had urged Marguerite to try this more powerful .38 Special, which was stronger and easier to shoot well than the older design. The straight-through trigger pull (double-action) was smoother and lighter than on her older gun, and the exposed hammer could be cocked by the thumb for a more precise aim, especially at distant targets. She had preferred her older gun because it was smaller and more easily hidden, and the concealed hammer wouldn't catch on clothing or on a ladies' muff. These considerations were moot here in the jungle, where she wore the gun openly on her belt, and the added power was nice, and recoil was still not too severe. Certainly, not like trying to shoot the .45 pistols carried by the men...
Marguerite had grudgingly accepted the new gun, which felt very nice in her hands, and after firing a box of ammunition, she admitted that the new one was accurate and she knew where it shot. She was easily able to hit vital zones on human targets to 15 yards, and with more practice, might be able to equal Finn, who could score kills on men to at least 75 yards when she had a few seconds to take cool, careful aim and use two hands to steady the gun. She had personally seen Finn drop one Xingu headhunter with her .38 at a distance that they had later measured at 60 yards. Marguerite knew that if she had to use a revolver, the range was more likely to be within 50 feet, and she knew that she was deadly at such distances.
She shivered as she recalled the closest shot that she had seen anyone take with a handgun. In that, Finn had seized the long hair of a Xingu warrior, pulling his head back while Finn thrust the barrel of her Smith & Wesson .38 under his chin. The shot had blown off the top of his skull and the sight of the dead man's shattered brain still haunted Marguerite's dreams. But Finn had saved her, for the Xingu man had her down and had been tying her hands behind her back when Finn had rescued her. She shuddered at the recollection, loaded the .38 again, and holstered it. (See, "Xingu!" on this board for that story.)
She went through her other things, but found little else with survival value, and regretted that her lofty attitude had kept her from assembling a compact kit of vital items that could prove useful in a situation such as this.
She did find a small container of raisins, which she ate gratefully. When the sun rose, she would look for vines of a certain sort that held rainwater. If she could reach one from the ground, her switchblade knife could slice it open, and she would drain the water from the vine into her canteen. "Water bottle", she corrected herself, amused at her smugness. She wished that she had Ned Malone there to tease over speech differences. Besides, if the American had been there, his lover, Veronica, would soon arrive, for where there was one Malone, the other soon joined the first. She missed Veronica, with a pang of guilt over the way that she had sometimes treated her blonde hostess. But I'm the new, improved Marguerite Krux now, she thought, and smiled. Loving a man like Lord John Roxton will do that to a girl...Oh, John! Where are you while I need you so much to be with me tonight!
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - September 23 2007 : 9:09:49 PM
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Marguerite tried to stay awake, her back to a large stone so that nothing could get at her from behind. But she woke several times during the night, jolted awake as she started to fall over.
For over an hour, she sat stiffly, thumb poised to release the safety of her rifle, as a jaguar prowled the night near her.
Its distinctive throaty growl frightened her almost as much as did the rumble of a carnivorous dinosaur. She shivered, as had countless other women when the sound reached their ears over the millennia that jaguars and humans had shared tropical American jungles. She knew that they were potential maneaters, and she had heard some scary stories from the Zanga and from their guides on the way to the plateau. She recalled, in particular, one that was black. It had killed and mauled several Zanga hunters before she and Roxton had shot it. Even in the minutes before its death, it had killed one man and mangled another. (See, "Spirit Jaguar" in Fiction at: www.americanbty12.proboards62.com ) That was on the same adventure during which she and Finn had been kidnapped by the villanous Avery Burton. They had no more than overcome Burton and his slavers than she had been called upon to face that ferocious cat.
Marguerite had carried her .275 Rigby rifle then, but the .303 would handle the same class of animals, and she knew that a well placed 180 grain bullet or two would write "finis" to the career of any jaguar foolish enough to let her get a good shot at it. But in the dark, it would probably be on her before she could distinguish its feline shape from the other shadows. If she slept when it came, its jaws would crush her throat and break her spine before she woke enough to grasp what was happening. She knew that in the Mato Grosso region of Brazil, they could grow to 400 pounds. She had seen examples that reached 300 pounds dead in the Zanga village, and those that she had seen taken by Roxton and Challenger were also formidible. Finn had shot just one, which was raiding an outlying Zanga village, stealing goats and a child. They had weighed it at 233 pounds on the Layton expedition's scale. Finn had been white-faced for an hour after she had killed it in full charge after her first shot had only wounded it. If she had not been well hidden, it would have been on her before she could cycle the bolt of her Mannlicher-Schoenauer 6.5mm rifle. The Zanga man with her had risen to receive the big cat on the point of his heavy spear as her second shot tore out its heart. Even as it squirmed dying, it had tried to reach them, and the warrior had speared it. That had damaged the hide considerably, but Finn insisted on keeping it, sewn shut by Marguerite's skilled hands where the spear had rent it. Finn now displayed it proudly in the room that she shared with Challenger. If he caught her looking at it, he sometimes playfully hoisted her onto the wooden stool that he had made for her as her "pedestal", where he proudly placed her when she had done something especially praiseworthy.
Finn often felt that her man was being charitable or just showing his love when he put her up there, although she had grown to love the attention, embarrassing as it was if Challenger called in anyone else to watch the ceremony. But when he had first put her there for killing that livestock raider and child killer, Finn somberly admitted to herself that she probably deserved the honor. She had been scared out of her wits. And now, Marguerite felt nearly the same!
The moon crept gradually across the sky and Marguerite stirred several times, walking into a clearing from which she could see stars above the tall trees. Finally, she slept against the boulder that had become her refuge, starting awake as the jabber of birds and monkeys announced the arrival of day.
Stiff, she rose and walked around,rubbing her sore neck.
Finally, hearing nothing out of the expected, she shouldered her pack and crept carefully toward what she hoped was the trail home. But she soon admitted that she was hopelessly lost!
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - September 24 2007 : 03:33:45 AM
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After dinner, the Zanga cleared the area and ten girls demonstrated tribal dances. They wore halter tops like those of the Treehouse girls and their friends, but instead of the short sarongs that the others would soon remove as part of their routine, these dancers wore short grass skirts over their brief loincloths. The lead girl wore a skirt comprised of tough green leaves about a foot long on a lace about her waist. These leaves were of the same sort used as plates, but selected for size, to suit her physique. The girls whom she led were very skilled and graceful, as if Jacoba had carefully chosen them to say to the Treehouse girls and their friends, Beat This!
Their dancing reminded Veronica and Finn of tales they had heard from Roxton and Malone about girls who performed similar routines in such locales as Hawaii and Tahiti. Veronica wondered for the hundredth time whether Challenger was correct in surmising that the Zanga had originated with some Polynesian tribe that had reached South America long ago, and had interbred with Spanish or Portugeuse explorers or settlers. They simply did not resemble local Indians of other races as closely as they should have. There was some overlap, but not to the degree that one would expect. Assai, for instance, could have passed for a Spaniard of the slightly dusky sort.
When this group was finished, they were greeted with substantial applause and their family members who were present showed admiration for their sensual performance. Several clearly were married to men present, and Asaai whispered that another was the daughter of a senior warrior/statesman who sat near Jacoba.
Then, it was time for the visitors and the Royal girls to show their stuff.
Assai led the dance, beginning in a circle. She had briefed Finn and Veronica on what to expect. They had had an hour for choreography, and they had planned well. Circling the watchers, Assai stopped before her father, before whom she knelt gracefully. Then, she rose and moved one space over, and Finn did the same, until all four girls had paid their respects to the powerful native monarch. Finn tried not to look amused and disgusted at the same time. She blushed and tried to look sexy without betraying her troth to another man, George Challenger. Veronica smiled dutifully, but resented this submission to the man who had once sought to buy her from Marguerite in a tawdry little deal intended to get the brunette off of the Plateau, with riches.
A tunnel cave-in had prevented Marguerite and the other explorers from leaving, but Veronica still sometimes resented what had happened, although Marguerite had apologized many times over for her treachery. In recent months, Veronica had come to accept that she now was sincere in regretting what she had done when she was colder and more self serving. She did seem to have changed, and was embarrassed by who and what she had been. Still, Veronica was not too fond of Jacoba, and only the need to retain his good will and not upset his daughter compelled her to appear this way in front of the king and his savage court and some of their women.
Sa'eera clearly knew how to milk the occasion for her husband's favor and she was probably not faking her obeisance by much. She did feel honored to have been chosen as one of this jungle strongman's brides, and he took good care of her. When it was her turn to kneel before Jacoba, she didn't stop at a brief kneel and inclination of her head before rising and moving on. Sa'eera knelt low, putting her head to Jacoba's feet and casting her eyes shyly down as she blushed and beamed at his expression. She then lifted her eyes to the Great Wife and curtsied to her senior, which caused that lovely woman to smile back and wave encouragingly at her. Sa'eera's submission was received with applause from the asembled Zanga elders and even their women approved of the young queen's example, for they felt less self concious about pleasing their own husbands if one of the Royal women so honored her husband.
Then, the two sets of girls, Finn and Sa'eera in one and Veronica and Assai in the other, stood back to back with hands lifted, the backs of their wrists touching, until the music began. On hearing the drums, bells, flutes, shells, gourds filled with stones, and other primitive instruments, the four girls rotated to trade places and began the choreography that they had planned. After some two minutes, each girl faced a senior man present and began dancing Middle Eastern style, as if performing for him in a palace in the Arab states. Finn danced for Xma'Klee, who looked startled but pleased. Sa'eera performed before her husband, and his often somber countenance glowed at this symbol of her wifely devotion.
The girls writhed and wiggled and there was not a man there who was not stirred by this stunning display of female charms. Their women were either interested and intent on memorizing the moves, or dour-faced and jealous -looking, according to the woman and her relationship with her man and how she felt about herself as a female.
When the sarongs, the short, wraparound skirts, came off and were waved in the dance, the brief, rather narrow loincloths hid little and the girls's legs and superb bodies caused the watchers to lean forward and stare all the more. Finn felt embarrassed to dance this way out of the Treehouse, but her natural inclination to play to a male audience stood her in good stead. At one point, Veronica looked her straight in the eye and winked, suppressing a smile. Finn managed to avoid laughing outright, covering by grinning widely. She knew that later, Veronica was going to tease her for enjoying the opportunity to display herself this way, and with her being three months' pregnant, at that! She actually felt a little guilty, but consoled herself by resolving to talk Vee into another Treehouse party where the girls would dance this way for their own men. That was one way to get George's head out of the lab!
They swirled and swayed, and Xma'Klee caught Jacoba's eye. The monarch was clearly enjoying himself. He said softly to those near, "Perhaps I should order these white girls detained, that they may entertain us thus more often."
Sa'eera heard and blanched as much as her light skin would allow. She looked half panic stricken, and Jacoba was jolted as he realized how much his youngest wife cared for her Treehouse friends.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - September 24 2007 : 04:12:03 AM
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On Jacoba's right, the Great Wife leaned to his ear and whispered, "Lord, do not threaten such things. These girls are here as your honored guests, and their friends and they have risked their lives at times that our sick and wounded might live. Veronica has many friends here since childhood. They would be displeased if you take her by force. You would shame your people, and earn the wrath of these girls' men, who love them jealously."
Xma'Klee, the Paramount Shaman of All the Zanga, and the man next to Jacoba in power, agreed. "Great Chief, surely you must have jested. I know that you do not fear three normal white men, even with guns, but the woman who left earlier today is a sorceress of I know not how much power. I myself confer with Ma'Greet about extrasensory visions, and I respect her. She speaks many languages, which she has not even studied! And Professor Challenger, whose medicines have saved our wounded and our ill, has the means to send against us grave pestilences that would destroy all of our kind! He is a great wizard, and loves Finn deeply. She will soon bear his child, the first to be born in that treehouse since Veronica herself. He will be very angry if you order his woman and his hostess and friend seized. There are other women to be had if you feel jaded by your own wives."
The Great Wife saw her chance. "Are you jaded by us wives, Lord? Shall we find you a new bride to give you fresh joys?" She knew the answer before she asked the question, but it jolted Jacoba to hear this.
"I was making a joke, and this only, to show how much I enjoy this performance. Do not become concerned. I know my obligations as a host." But he had thought it worth a try to float this trial balloon. He tried not to sulk.
The Great Wife looked at Sa'eera and smiled and shook her head head slightly, NO. Sa'eera understood and smiled back. She danced to Jacoba and moved seductively within a foot and a half of him. He brightened.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - September 24 2007 : 06:05:29 AM
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Later, as they prepared for bed, Veronica asked Sa'eera what Jacoba had said that seemed to have caused a minor stir. Sa'eera blushed and told them, for she had asked others who had heard, to be sure that her own ears had not deceived her.
"But Husband was merely joking. He only meant to express how much he enjoyed your dancing."
"Yeah, I'll just bet," muttered Veronica.
"Vee,it is surely so! I have asked my 'mother', the Great Wife. She said that she and Xma'Klee both counseled him not to think of such things, and she said that it was a joke. I know Husband well. He might think of this, but he knows better, especially when you are honored guests. There are many in this village and throughout our tribe generally who admire you and remember that you saved several of us who were sick and others who were injured by jaguars and by the Xingu. Together, we went to the terrible city of Xochilenque, and you assisted me when I granted amnesty to the Zanga rebels who would have seized Husband's throne. They are again valued members of this tribe. You are in no danger from Jacoba."
But after their Zanga friends left, Finn looked seriously at Veronica and loaded her rifle and her .38 revolver.
"What was that about?", asked Veronica as Finn set out the weapons near the beds that she and Veronica would share in Sa'eera's hut behind the king's own palace. (Sa'eera was summoned to her husband's bed that night, and offered her individual wife's hut to the visitors.)
"Just in case, Vee. I trust Sa'eera. But I don't really trust Jacoba. I'm beginning to be afraid. I wish that we hadn't stayed. Marguerite had the right idea. I'm not staying in this fleabag village again."
"Finn, I resent that. I was raised for most of my youth in this 'fleabag' village. It's really pretty clean. Certainly, by Indian standards. Here, take this basin and wash up. There's a towel on the table there." Veronica had just finshed washing from a similar basin, for the girls were sweaty after their performance.
Finn stripped and washed herself, but after she had dried, Veronica noticed that she put on her clothes, except for her boots, and she set these beside her rifle. She put her pack beside these items and put her beloved Zeiss binocular in its case in her pack, to have less to grab in event of a hasty departure.
"Why are you you dressing, Nicole?" asked Veronica. "Are you planning on leaving suddenly?"
"Sim, Senhorita. And you'd better put on some clothes, too, Vee. I don't really think anything will happen, but we need to be ready to get the hell of here if anything starts."
"Nothing is going to start, Finnykins, as Marguerite would say. Sa'eera just told us that what Jacoba said was a joke. I believe her. Assai would have told me if she suspected anything."
Finn thought carefully, weighing Assai's and Sa'eera's personal loyalties to them against their loyalty to their tribe and king. She knew better than to tell Veronica, but she, Finn, wasn't totally sure of the Indian girls' loyalty to the two of them against their loyalty to the chief. Finn's attitude toward the Zanga was in reality more akin to Marguerite's than to Veronica's. A life lived in suspicion made it so.
"I'm sure that you're right, Vee," she said carefully. "But just to humor me, at least put on the bare minimum, and put the rest where you can grab it and dress fast, in case we have to leave."
"And what, Finn? Shoot our way out through my friends!?"
They talked a bit more before agreeing that probably, all would be well. Veronica tried to see Finn's position, although she was angry that Finn would imply that she might have to shoot people whom Veronica had known since she was a child. She tried hard to recall that Finn, though Anglo ancestrally, was brasileira, a Brazilian girl. But she had had little exposure to Indians, and much of what she would have heard wouldn't have been reassuring.
More to reassure Finn than because she thought it would be needed, Veronica found a piece of wood and blocked the door by lodging it in the recesses provided for that purpose. Probably, this was the first time that door had been locked since the Xingu had been defeated in their latest foray against the Zanga.
Veronica lifted the jug left with them and poured a drink of water and thought. She did feel exposed a bit. But she trusted Asaai.
They talked more, and then blew out the lamp. By then, Veronica had calmed and Finn had apologized for her unease. "Vee, I can't help it. I don't really trust anyone in this world except for you and our own Treehouse family. I do finally trust Marguerite. That took a while. I think I trust Assai and Sa'eera. That's the best I can do. Try to think of my life before I came here. I'll never be really too trusting of most people."
Her tone was pleading and apologetic, and Veronica, for all of her pique, admitted that Finn was sincere. She reached across the foot of space that separated their beds and held Finn's hand. "Okay, 'Sis'. I forgive you. Stay dressed if it makes you feel better. But don't shoot anyone unless we see that it's a have to thing. We probably couldn't fight our way out, anyway. I'll try to shame the Zanga into releasing us if Jacoba tries anything, and threaten them with George's potent bacterial warfare potential if we have to get tough. But nothing is going to happen. I know these people. The situation isn't right for that."
But she too, was somewhat relieved when, after a cordial breakfast the following morning, they were allowed to walk peacefully out of Jacoba's village.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - September 24 2007 : 06:56:40 AM
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Dawn had hardly broken when Roxton summoned his companions.
"Gentlemen, we have to admit that something has happened, or the women would have been home by now. I propose that we eat and set out to find them. The sun will be fully up by then, and the sooner we locate them, the better."
"I concur," said Challenger. "Ned, will you agree to stay here? If they reach the Treehouse before we find them, one of them may be injured. They will need help."
"Why do I have to stay?", the American rejoined. "Don't you think that I'm as worried about Veronica as the two of you are about your ladies?"
"A good point, Ned," admitted Challenger.. "But as leader of this expedition, I feel that I should seek them out, and John is better able to deal with some dangers than you are...somewhat, at least. And you are better equipped to administer to them if they get here first and need aid. You are a good medic, my lad, and you are sensitive and have a better feel for that than John and I have. Besides, you are Veronica's man, and this is her Treehouse. It is logically your place to stay. She will expect to find you here if she needs you."
This seemed somewhat convoluted thinking to Ned, but he reluctantly agreed to remain.
The men made a hasty meal, then Challenger and Roxton gathered their favorite rifles and their packs, including energency medical supplies, and went down in the elevator.
"Do you think we'll find them, John?" worried Challenger. Like Roxton and Malone, he had slept badly, deeply worried about Finn and the others.
"We'll find them, George," replied the tall Englishman. "If nothing else we'll see vultures or scavenger species of pterodactyls. That will lead us to them, in a worst case scenario. But I think it is more likely that one has just been injured, or Finn may have had maternal trouble. They may have stayed in the Zanga village. Xma'Klee may be treating her."
"Then, wouldn't he have sent a runner to tell us?"
Roxton reflected. "Maybe it was too late. He wouldn't have gotten here by dark. We may encounter one on the way today. I'm sure there's a good explanation."
"That's what worries me," admitted Challenger. "Most of the 'good' explanations are unpleasant ones."
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - September 24 2007 : 07:21:56 AM
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Marguerite found a vine with water in it and managed to climb a slanted trunk to reach it in the next tree over. She took out her knife and cut a hole in the bottom and let a few drops seep out, hopefully carrying with them any small bugs or other debris that might have wound up in the hollow vine. Then, she let the vine drain its precious burden into her water bottle. She repeated the procedure three times, pausing to drink as she worked. Finally, she had drunk her fill and the water bottle was full to the brim.
She came back down the tree and sighted the compass on a NE course, the most likely to bring her within sight of the Treehouse...if she was lucky.
She fretted that John woudn't have had any word of either her or the other women, and he and all of the men would be frantic with worry.
Well, maybe not 'frantic', she corrected herself. It is hard to imagine John Roxton as being frantic. But he will be substantially concerned. She smiled. Maybe Ned Malone would be 'frantic". She laughed out loud at that, and felt better for it.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - September 24 2007 : 5:07:48 PM
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Marguerite found and ate some berries, washing them with the precious water from her canteen/water bottle. She would have to find additional vines with water or some other source that was pure, but the berries needed washing. There were no pesticides here, but dust and animal urine might be on them, or poison arrow frogs might have run across them, leaving their deadly sweat. Well, that was stretching matters, but Marguerite was feeling a little paranoid. She felt better about washing the berries.
They were good, resembling blueberries in temperate climes, and she was glad to have something in her stomach. But berries were not very filling, and she needed more nourishment.
The sun was higher now, and she decided to find the river. The one that she knew was nearby was fairly narrow, maybe 75 yards across on average, and maybe five to 12 feet deep except for deeper holes.
She worked her way through the jungle, eventually finding the river or a tributary. It looked serene, with no caimans or crocodiles in it. When she had first come here, she had thought that there were no crocodiles in South America. She had since learned about the American crocodile and that there was another large crocodilian further north, the Orinoco crocodile. They were big, 23 feet having been officially recorded, and they ate people. Some caimans were also very dangerous, the black caiman reaching at least 20 feet and being quite inclined to attack people if it was in the mood and saw a chance. Caimans were intermediate between alligators and crocodiles, and like most such large reptiles, might dine on the unwary. And there were snakes that swam, and prehistoric beasts. The wise didn't wade in rivers here without very carefully examining them. Alas, the water was often so opaque that one couldn't know what lurked in the depths.
She found a fallen stick from a tree and used her knife to sharpen the end, making an improvised spear. With luck she could spear a fish, although this was harder than it sounded. She wished that she had included line in her gear, and she could have found bait and tried for fish that way. A hook of the "gorge" sort could be carved from wood or bone, had she had a better, sharper knife.
She was unable to find a shallow, clear pool where she could see fish, and gave up after an hour. Frustrated and worried now about food, she saw a young agouti watching her from the edge of the river. She drew the .38 Smith & Wesson and managed to kill it with one shot. It rushed into the river as it died, but the current brought it wthin reach of her spear, and she caught it and pulled it ashore.
Marguerite found a clearing some distance from the river and skinned the animal, which weighed about five pounds. She quartered it and hung the pieces on sharp, green sticks over a small fire to cook.
With luck, the cooking meat wouldn't draw predators or scavengers.
She felt better now about her day, and really was quite proud of herself. Jungle Jane, that's me, she smirked. Even Roxton would be proud of me now.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
972 Posts |
Posted - September 25 2007 : 02:52:22 AM
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After she ate, Marguerite took the remaining meat and hid it on a tree limb, hoping that nothing would find and eat it by evening. The meat might get a glaze on it that would prevent flies from contaminating it if she washed it well later. She walked around, hoping to find anything familiar, like the long pool where she and the others swam, but to no avail.
Finally, she decided to strike off in the direction that she thought might lead to the Treehouse.
After an hour of paralleling the river, she found a pool that looked similar to the one that she sought. It was not that pool, but came close. The water was transparent enough to see the bottom, and nothing dangerous was in sight in the gin-clear water.
Marguerite was hot, tired, angry at events and at her inability to overcome her frustration at being lost. She wanted a swim and she meant to have one.
She undressed and entered the water, keeping a wary eye out for crocodilians or snakes. Nothing... She submerged and swam across the pool and back several times, enjoying herself immensely.
She tread water, recalling a similar occasion that had occurred soon after the expedition had first reached this horrible Plateau. She had been swimming thus when Lord Roxton had arrived to spy on her from behind a bush. When she had seen him, he had arrogantly, teasingly, lifted her camisole on the barrel of his rifle, giving her one of those cocky, smirky masculine grins. It had irritated her, but she had felt also a secret thrill in the pit of her stomach, something that she had suppressed as she engaged in barbed banter with the cocksure hunter.
Marguerite laughed now as she thought of how her relationship with Roxton had changed, Today, she would be delighted to see him show up on the shore, teasing her, looking so jauntily masculine! She colored at the thought of her man and what he now meant to her. She would now be happy to ask him to join her instead of being rude to him! Oh, how she missed John! If only he was here!
She walked out of the water and stood in the reeds at the edge, using her hands to stroke off the moisture that clung to her body.
When she had done this as well as she could, she used her shirt to finish drying, then smelled the sweaty garment. Ugh! she mentally exclaimed. She waded out a few feet and washed the blouse as best she could without soap. Wading ashore again, she hung it on the branches of a nearby bush to dry and shook out her skirt, flapping it to air it as best she could. Tossing the skirt over a low limb, she washed her white bikini panties and the matching bra, a pushup style designed by Finn and sewn by herself and Veronica. Marguerite usually sewed the more delicate portions of their lingerie by hand, with her blonde hostess and friend using her mother's sewing machine for most of the other work.
Marguerite hung the underwear over small branches to dry and decided to sun herself on a low, wide rock.
In time, she dozed, the day halcyon: the breeze mild, the sun temperate instead of the glaring heat of the morning. She shifted slightly, lying on the blanket that she had bought in the Zanga bazaar.
She never knew precisely what woke her, but suddenly, she sat bolt upright, knowing with chilling certainty that danger was near. She looked around hastily, knowing that something evil and dangerous was close and was watching her.
Marguerite put on her hat and reached for her boots, pulling them on with alacrity. She slung her gunbelt over her body and grabbed the rifle. Still nothing. Was she imagining things?
No. Now came a rapid slither through the jungle and the hoarse scream of a charging raptor dinosaur. It had hoped to cover the last sixty yards to her on the rock and seize her in its jaws befre she woke.
Marguerite ran for all she was worth toward a slope that was clear of trees and brush, from which she could see what was after her and get a clear shot at it. She swept off the rifle safety and turned as she reached a patch of open ground. Recognizing the raptor, she led it in the sights so as to let the speeding animal run directly into her bullet. She saw it stagger at the shot, and pumped the bolt handle back and forth to reload and fired again into the snarling beast. It had no more than fallen than its mate charged at her from the left, and she pivoted, cycling the bolt to chamber a fresh cartridge. She shot three times before this thrashing raptor died, using all of the ammunition in the rifle. She needed more, but her purse and pack were back at the rock where she had been sleeping.
On looking there, she saw a large crocodile within 20 feet of where she had lain! It had swum across the river and was feeding on the first raptor. THe croc looked at her and growled. It had probably been stalking her and seen the raptor fall at her shots and decided to eat that instead of her. With it where it was, Marguerite couldn't even retrieve her clothes!
She swore softly and retreated to the cover of some bushes. Can this day possibly get any (bleeping!) better?! she demanded, not even concerned that she would sound like a parody of herself had anyone heard her. Furious, she crouched beneath a stump and cursed the luck that had led her to want to go home alone!
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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On Her Own
