James Axler – Deathlands

The jaguar howled, snapping at its shoulder, where a tiny red rose bloomed in the soft black fur. For a moment it dropped the corpse, then recovered itself and vanished into the undergrowth, snarling in a high, angry whine.

Ryan was on hands and knees, frozen for a moment, before replacing the SIG-Sauer, unfired, into its holster. He stood and sighed.

“Fuck that,” he said. “You got it.”

“Only winged it. Range and everything was all against me. Head-on, it wasn’t much of a target with the girl’s body hanging in the way.”

“I know. Did well to wing it.”

“Why didn’t you shoot?”

“No point.” He looked around at the other women, who crouched, heads down, still chanting what he guessed was some kind of a prayer. “I could have saved her if it hadn’t been for this bastard stupe.” He kicked at the semiconscious woman by his feet. “Get up!” he shouted. “It’s gone. Over. Girl’s dead!”

In the struggle the woman’s necklace had broken, and the tiny shards of pink stone lay in the emerald grass. She opened her eyes. “Did you kill jaguar?”

“No. Thanks to you, it got away.”

“I wounded it,” Krysty said, busily reloading her own blaster. “But it got away and took the body with it. Probably already eating it.” She spit in the dirt, aware that she had lost her usual calm. “Gaia! Why did you do that?”

“Jaguar is god. Any man or woman picked by jaguar is picked by gods. It is”

“An honor?” Krysty suggested sarcastically.

“Yes. Good word. Honor. Dies for honor. Could not let you shoot jaguar like shooted god. Bad luck many days of life. Very bad luck.”

“It was bastard bad luck for that poor little girl,” Ryan said furiously. For a couple of pieces of small jack he would have drawn the SIG-Sauer and put a bullet through the woman’s head. But he managed to control himself.

One by one the rest of the natives rose to their feet and stared out into the forest, then turned to gaze at Ryan, Krysty and their wounded friend, who had finally struggled to her feet and stood wobbling, looking defiantly at the two Anglos. “Any woman will have been happy to die with the jaguar. You from outside do not understand this. Do you?”

Ryan shook his head. “No. Glad to say I don’t.” There was another vivid flash of pink-purple lightning and a deafening peal of thunder that followed almost simultaneously. He felt the first heavy spots of the storm strike him in the face.

“Are you going after the animal?” Krysty asked. “At least get the child’s body back before it’s eaten?”

“No. Jaguar eats spirit. All is good. Help in taking fish. Just as Jak will” She stopped speaking at another, even louder crack of thunder, almost on top of them. “Rain bad. Go back now.”

She turned and rejoined the other women, all of them walking toward the village, vanishing within yards as the spots of rain became a torrential downpour.

In less than thirty seconds, Ryan and Krysty were drenched to the skin, as wet as if they’d jumped straight into the middle of the river.

Visibility was down to fifteen feet.

“Got to get shelter!” Ryan shouted, having to clutch at Krysty and put his mouth close to her ear for her to catch what he was saying above the noise of the storm.

“Sure. Rain’s hurting my head.”

It was true. The raindrops were so large and so incessant that the beating on top of the skull was actually painful.

They took cover under a massive teak tree, pressing themselves against the trunk, keeping out of the worse of the direct rain. The storm seemed to be squatting astride them, the sound and fury filling the forest.

Krysty put her arm around Ryan, for comfort against the raging of the elements. “Bad one!” she yelled, aware that he had nodded, but unable to hear his reply.

It was as vicious a chem storm as they’d known.

The lightning was so constant and blinding that Krysty closed both eyes, Ryan pressing the palm of his hand over his good eye. The air quivered with thunder, and the jungle seemed to be saturated with the bitter taste of ozone.