CHAPTER 14
Something bit her.
Neesha swatted the spot on her arm and watched as a large ant fell away. Then she saw another crawling on her arm. It bit her too—hard. Swearing, she swatted at it and finally realized she had walked into a nest of the irate beasts. They were swarming up her legs, in her pant legs, and they were all biting.
Neesha went into a dance, jerking her pack off and throwing it away from her. She tried to follow it, but stumbled over a downed log and went to her knees. She contorted in a frenzy, slapping herself, and rolling on the ground, but the ants persisted in biting her. She screamed, hoarsely, stood and ran off as fast as she could. Her body began to grow numb, and her run turned into a stagger. The bites were growing less now as she got further from the ant den and killed the tiny creatures crawling over her.
Still they had gotten in her clothes. She hurriedly stripped, cursing the viewers who were no doubt jeering at her through the cameras, and began brushing the monstrous bugs off her. That completed, she stomped on her clothing and then shook them out. When she was satisfied that each of the evil creatures was dead, she dressed again.
But now she didn’t feel too good. Her body began to swell up from the red bite marks. Her breathing came in shallow gasps, and her extremities tingled alarmingly. She reached for her pack, but couldn’t find it. Where is it? She hunted around desperately. I just had it! Then she remembered. She had tossed it back where she had been attacked.
She froze in indecision. Her breathing came in laboring gasps. The little food and water she had were in the pack. If she lost it, she would be dead for sure. I was so close too! She had been on the trail of the tagged Komodo dragon before stumbling into the large ant den. The dragon had been on the move and away from its buddies. It was her best chance to kill it, but now she had lost her bow with her pack. She needed it and the water inside. She hated doing it, but she needed to wash out each of the bites. She couldn’t be sure, but the bites may have had a small amount of poison or they may become infected.
Which way back? She looked around in confusion until she saw her footprints. She could follow them back. Slowly, in dread, she began to retrace her steps. She walked carefully, watching the ground for any more of those vicious little insects—are ants insects? She didn’t know. She didn’t care. So why did I think about it?
Shaking her head, she walked on. When she came into the vicinity of the ant den, she wondered how she ever missed it. A boiling mass of red seethed on the ground. Each tiny body ran as if agitated beyond reason. She watched from the edge of the wooded clearing. Where is it? She looked and finally spotted her pack on the ground off to one side. It looked clear of ants from her angle.
Slipping back into the trees, Neesha worked her way around to where she thought her pack would be. Sweat fell off her face in streams. It was hot, but not hot enough for her to be sweating like this. She felt her forehead and recognized immediately that she had a fever. From the ant bites? Probably. She cursed under her breath and edged back towards the ant den. She found her backpack and carefully turned it over. She found only a few of the murderous bugs and squashed them unmercifully with her shoes.
Snatching her pack, she edged back into the forest trees. Moving off a good distance, she finally found a shady spot that looked relatively safe. She sat down under the protective arms of a tree. A monkey chattered at her angrily, and she bared her teeth at it. Her time in the rainforest had taught her one thing. If monkeys were around, then the other major predators were not—probably.
Opening her pack she peered in and froze. A slip of paper sat atop her canteen. She could read the scrawl which said: Don’t pick this note up. Those watching in the cameras must never know I was here. I filled your canteen with water and put medicine in it—it should help with the fever and the bites. There is a jar of salve under the canteen that you can use to treat your wounds…but only use it at night when the cameras can’t see you. Watch the monkey. There is water nearby, and he’ll take you to it if you are careful. Hang in there!
Trembling, she brushed the note aside and picked up the canteen. She almost wept when she realized how full it was. She took a long pull of the water, which tasted funny due to the medicine, but she could care less. She rummaged through her pack and found the jar of salve. She itched to put it on now, but she wouldn’t risk exposing her hidden benefactor.
For the first time since being dropped off on this godforsaken island, she felt a sliver of hope. Someone was watching out for her. Someone cared. A tear did escape then, but this tear was different. This tear was born of joy.
Her tracker beeped. She picked it up and looked. The dragon was close. Maybe now I can kill it and get the blazes off this island. Picking up her pack, she slung it onto her back, and despite the fever, she readied her bow and trudged off in pursuit of the killer Komodo dragon.
The night his malaria finally broke nearly drove Ali insane—literally. He had raved like a mad man, talking to plants, petting them like dogs. He had completely lost track of his backpack, weapons, canteens—all of it. He had staggered around like a drunken bum, falling as often as he stepped. Finally, he had just given up and stayed in a sitting position, rocking himself back and forth.
Malaria was a parasitic disease. It was treatable with the right drugs, but Ali didn’t have access to any of that. He had had it once before…as a child, and vaguely wondered if that had contributed to the fact that he hadn’t yet died of it. No. Allah is watching over me. Allah is watching over me. Allah…
A sound brought his head up. A Komodo dragon slithered away from him and into the underbrush. Dragon. Got to kill it. His mind numb, he picked up a rock and staggered after it. He fell twice before reaching the spot where the creature had slipped away. In his fogged up brain, he didn’t even wonder if this was the correct animal he was to kill. He only knew he had to kill it.
He got to the spot eventually, but the dragon was gone. He peered into the bushes, trying to spot it, but nothing. When he looked up, a girl was staring at him. She looked familiar somehow. “Do I know you?” he asked in Arabic.
She started, blinking like an owl. Ali chuckled, thinking it funny.
“So you do speak after all,” the girl said in English. “You don’t look so good.”
“I must kill the demon, the evil jinn,” he responded in English. “Did you see where it went?”
She shrugged. “Here, take some water. You look all played out.”
She handed him a canteen, and he drank greedily, hardly noticing the tangy taste of the medicinal water. He felt better instantly, his head clearing enough to realize he had just accepted help from a non-believer, an infidel. He cursed and threw the canteen down.
“Hey!” she snapped, scrambling after the canteen. “Why did you do that?”
He backed away from her, feeling dirty, unclean. He stopped as a dangerous gleam came into his eyes. “You still have your tracker?” he demanded harshly.
The girl, Neesha, he now recalled, eyed him warily. “What’s it to you?”
“You will give it to me now.”
“Like blazes I will. Use your own.”
Ali licked his lips. He had to get her tracker, find that dragon, and kill it before anyone else did. A thought took root in his mind—one he had had before. “In the name of Allah, you will give me your tracker.”
“If Allah wants one so bad, let him get his own.”
“Blasphemy!” He leaped forward, trying to strike the girl down. He was justified now. He could do this. She had blasphemed Allah. He could take her life, strike her down like a dog, and cast her wicked corpse to the dragons.
But he missed.
Still weak from his malaria and dehydration, he couldn’t move with near the speed or precision he needed to kill the girl. She dodged his weak blow and danced away from him. “Stop it or I will stop you,” she warned. “This is exactly what they want. They want us fighting!”
He tried to hit her again, but she slapped his feeble blow
aside and shoved him away. He staggered and fell. He let out a grunt when he hit the ground, but Allah guided his fingers to close over a stout tree branch. He struggled to his feet and held the branch like a club. She looked suitably nervous now, her haughty expression erased by the brandishing of Allah’s gift. He advanced slowly, since he had her trapped against a break of brambles that she couldn’t hope to fight through before he caught her.
“Stay away,” she ordered, hands, up and edging nervously to one side. He shifted to keep her in place. “Please stay away!”
Two Komodo dragons suddenly burst through the underbrush and charged the pair, their long tongues snapping in a hissing frenzy as they bore down upon the two youths. Ali swore and spun to face them. He swung his club at the lead dragon and succeeded in knocking its head into the jungle floor. It hissed in alarm and pain, its momentum seeming to squeeze its torso like an accordion. It flipped over, its flailing back legs striking Ali in the shins and knocking him to one side.
The second dragon veered around its fallen companion and charged the girl. She fumbled with her bow, trying to nock an arrow. The mindless beast hissed vehemently and leaped for her. The arrow, only at half strength, shot out and hit the dragon in mid-flight. It hissed in pain as the arrow penetrated its thick hide—though not with enough force to do too much damage. Still, its attack had been foiled and it twisted around to bite at the arrow in fury.
Ali regained his footing and charged the first dragon as it unwound itself from its crash. He rained blow after blow down upon the dragon until the shaft of the branch was slick with gore and blood. Sure that it was dead, he turned to the second one as it twisted in circles, biting at the arrow. He smashed its head in too, until it lay still, breathing no more.
He fell to his knees, breathing heavily. He had done it. He had killed two of the demons. He laughed and instantly began praying, giving praise to Allah for sending the demons to him for slaughter. His eyes snapped open shortly after, and he stared at the dead beasts, looking for the telling marks of his ultimate quarry. No! These were two different beasts! The jinn had deceived him! They had—
He snapped his head around looking for Neesha. She had disappeared. He screamed and clawed at the air! The jinn had protected the girl! They had died in her stead! The girl too must be a demon then. She must be in league with these evil dragons. He clenched his fists and looked up at the sky. “I swear upon the blood of my holy ancestors that I shall kill this vile creature. Allah! Give me strength!”
He bowed his head and waited, giving himself time to recover from his ordeal. The water he had taken from the infidel had given him strength, but unless he could find his pack and more water, he would die. Well, he would have to trust Allah.
Climbing back to his feet he looked around, trying to find out where Neesha had gone. If he couldn’t find his own equipment, he would need to track her down and take hers. She deserved to die anyway for consorting with the evil dragons. He yanked the arrow from the second dragon’s hide. At least he had a weapon now, and began staggering in circles, looking for some sign of where she had gone. Something scratched into the ground caught his attention. It looked to be a directional arrow drawn by a stick or something with a point into the soft earth.
Frowning, he bent over to examine it more thoroughly, thinking it to be another trick of the jinn. But no, it was clearly a directional arrow, faint and only really recognizable if you were practically standing on top of it. He looked in the direction it was pointing, and it seemed to take him closer to the mountains. Having no better options, he shrugged and started in that way, trusting Allah for the rest.
He found more, each one about twenty or thirty yards from the last. Clearly, someone had left them for him to find. He had faith though, so he continued to follow the directions. The path seemed to meander, sometimes going nearly in circles, but at last he came across his backpack. He cried out in joy and snatched it open. His canteen lay within as well as what remained of his food. Allah was indeed still watching over him.
From a tree some distance away and out of sight of the cameras for the moment, John watched Ali dig into his backpack for the food and water. He had medicated Ali’s canteen too, knowing he would need something for the malaria he still suffered with. Still, the young man’s behavior was disconcerting.
John berated himself for not realizing that Ali would try to kill the other contestants, especially after he had lost his tracker. John had found it, smashed on some rocks further up the mountain, so he could not help Ali there. Still, the stupid boy had tried to kill Neesha for hers. If he hadn’t herded those pair of Komodo dragons towards them, there was no telling what might have happened.
It seemed keeping them all alive was going to prove more difficult than he had supposed. Not only did he have to keep them safe from the local wildlife and indigenous human population, but now he had to keep them safe from each other.
He swore and shook his head. When is anything easy?
Fortunately, leading Ali back to his gear moved him away from Neesha and Sylvester. If he could keep Ali away, he could keep him from killing the others.
John settled down in the large tree to think. He froze as a large snake slithered over his legs, but the animal had recently fed and so wasn’t interested in the oversized human occupying the same tree. John sighed as the reptile moved over to another branch.
He detested this place.