The survivors now know the nature of their foe, which makes it no less dangerous |
Hell’s Garden Chapter 4 After paying their final respects to the fallen Ambrose, the group gathered up their meager supplies and headed back into the jungle, reasoning that the mountain, being higher ground, was not only the best place for a signal fire, but also the safest part of the island. That being said, they would have to go through hell to get there. The jungle was just as thick as before, maybe even more so, than the path they had trekked through yesterday. Marcel now held the machete, clearing a path through the thick foliage. Unlike the day before, the fauna of the island was much more evident today. Strange looking monkey creatures followed them from overhead, occasionally emitting unsettling screeches. They looked like a combination of lizard and monkey, with patches of scale on their fur, small horns, and a long, barbed tail. On other occasions, the group caught glimpses of what looked almost like a pig. However, they were as unnatural-looking as the monkeys, with multiple pairs of tusks and a long row of spines running down their back. None of the creatures were hostile, thankfully, and allowed the group to pass with little more than curious glances, or the occasional thrown nut, in the monkeys’ case. There was no sign of the mysterious ghouls, and every single member of the group prayed that they would be spared an encounter with the things. It was about midday when the group finally stopped for a break. It was on the banks of another stream, leading Marcel to suspect there was some kind of source near the center of the island. Grateful for the reprieve, the group took the chance to bathe, something they had been too panicked to do before now. The men hurriedly offered to take watch as the women went into the stream. Sallen and Marcel sat on a rock just outside the clearing, keeping an eye and ear on the surrounding area for any danger. Without warning, Sallen buried his face in his hands and wept. Marcel looked in surprise at the younger man. Sure, they had been through a trying situation, but they were alive for now, weren’t they? “Umm, what’s wrong Sallen?” he asked, trying to put on a fatherly demeanor. Sallen pulled his face from his hands with a rattling gasp, then said, “It’s… too much. Damn it all, maybe it would have been better if we had died on that blasted ship!” he said, then turned his face to Marcel, “I don’t want to see her suffer, maybe even die, like this!” And suddenly Marcel understood. He wasn’t crying for his own rotten luck or low chance of survival, it was for the one he loved. Marcel was speechless, the only thing he could do being to put his arm around the other man’s shoulders. Marcel felt a tap on his shoulder, and a voice said, “Hope I’m not interrupting anything…” Ceren grinned mischievously, and behind her Gabrielle giggled. Face going red, Marcel withdrew his arm, hastily stringing words together, “I was just… trying to explain…” but Ceren’s laugh cut off any more protests. “Just get cleaned off, you two.” She said, still chuckling a bit as she and Gabrielle took watch. The two men sank into the stream, discovering it was actually quite warm and relaxing. They were enjoying the water immensely, when suddenly there was a yell from over the trees. Hurriedly, both men jumped out of the stream and threw their clothes on. Ceren and Gabrielle came running into the clearing, looking panicked. Gabrielle yelled, in a terrified voice, “I saw one! I saw one and it’s coming this way!” The group tore off into the foliage, just as the small pack of ghouls raced into the clearing. They were just as hideous as their counterparts the day before, the only distinction between them being the different bits of tattered clothes they wore, or lack thereof. The things were quick, but the humans had pure adrenaline and a fight-or-flight response on their side. Marcel went in front, alternately hacking through branches or running straight through them, trying to clear a path for his companions to follow. Sallen brought up the rear, making sure no one fell behind the main group. Even though they were pushed to their physical limits, the things still gained on them, the growls coming closer every second. Sallen turned to spot their pursuers, and wished he hadn’t. There were three ghouls, each of them steadily gaining on the group, something akin to drool coming out of their mouths. Whether his hand was guided by some otherworldly force, Sallen did not know, but the man raised his gun and, while still running, fired. It caught one of the things in mid-air, dropping it in the middle of a leap. Its companions took no notice of their compatriot’s demise, continuing to chase the group with the same fervor. Sallen cursed, turning forward again. Up ahead, the tree’s opened up onto what looked like a field. It was near the base of the mountain, a small grassland area. In the center was a good sized lake, probably the source for the streams crisscrossing the island. Several structures surrounded the water, mostly squat, stone structures, but one building stood out, a tall, stepped pyramid rising above the surrounding trees and buildings. Marcel pointed at the pyramid, yelling, “There! Get to the top of that building!” The group raced up the steps, the pair of ghouls in hot pursuit. Halfway up, Marcel and Ceren both turned to bring their weapons to bear. Ceren fired, her musket tossing a ghoul back down the steps. The second leapt, hunger in its eyes, at Marcel, only to be met halfway by a machete through the head. A swift kick dislodged the spasming corpse, rolling it down the steps to meet its counterpart. The two jogged up the stairs to meet their companions at the pinnacle. “Looks like we got ‘em.” said Marcel, a fierce grin of confidence on his face. Sallen was about to agree, when his face suddenly went pale. “What is it?” asked Marcel, but Sallen just pointed. Marcel and the others followed his gaze, and as one, gasped. There were at least a dozen of the things, all streaming out into the clearing, and even from here it could be seen that they had their eyes locked on the small group of humans above them. “Heavens above and depths below...” said Marcel, the first to come out of the state of shock. He turned to Ceren an asked, “How much ammunition do you have left?” She gulped, and replied, “Just… just one shot each.” Marcel cursed. “We need to find a way out of here!” he said, pacing like a caged beast. Gabrielle just stood, looking at the growling things with numb shock. “Snap out of it!” he yelled, shaking her, “I know it looks hopeless, but we are going to get out of this alive, do you understand? Don’t you quit on us now!” Ceren yelled to the others, “They’re climbing up!” “Save your shots!” replied Marcel, “Make sure you use them well!” The ghouls were halfway up the steps, the cacophony of their growls rattling the defenders. They were about twenty feet away when Sallen and Ceren finally opened fire. Sallen managed to drop one over the side of the steps, while Ceren’s bullet only managed to knock one back a couple feet. Sallen dropped his rifle, pulling out the hatchet on his belt, yelling a battle cry. The battle was quickly joined. Ceren smashed a skull in with the butt of her musket, spinning it around to swat another on the ribs. Gabrielle hung back, armed as she was with only a knife, but one still managed to get past the other defenders. She yelled her own cry and sidestepped the thing, and then stabbed the knife through the thing’s skull. Marcel swung his machete with deadly efficiency, decapitating a ghoul while bringing the blade around to lop off another’s arm. Sallen lay about with his hatchet, putting it through a ghoul’s skull before shoving it back into two of its fellows. Alas, it wasn’t enough. The things were too tenacious, and too many to hold off. Those that survived the initial assault surged back up in a renewed attack. The defenders fell back, fighting for every inch that they lost. Gabrielle saw a ghoul get behind Sallen, its jaws open for a fatal bite. She screamed in denial, leaping onto the thin and stabbing its back repeatedly. It growled, in either annoyance or pain, and stepped back, trying to pull the human off its back. Sallen turned, and his eyes widened, “Gabrielle, NO!” he cried. But it was too late, and the ghoul stumbled off the side of the pyramid, the girl still clinging to its back. Sallen screamed in insane rage. He went at the ghouls like a madman, killing three ghouls in as many seconds, hurling their bodies down the steps. Ceren bashed in another skull, then kicked another ghoul off the pyramid. Marcel swung his machete, freeing another head from its shoulders and cutting another skull completely in half. All the ghouls were either dead or no longer a threat. Sallen rushed over to the side, a disbelieving look in his eyes. He ran right to the edge, staring over the side for the one thing he least wanted to see. His eyes settled on the crumpled form at the base of the pyramid. A ragged cry, filled with grief, escaped his lips and rent the air. He collapsed to his knees, pounding his fists against his head as he invoked every curse that he had ever known. His cries were less actual words than inarticulate growls of rage, not unlike those of the ghouls that had so recently been attacking them. Sallen got to his feet, quickly pacing up and down the edge of the pyramid. Marcel tentatively moved over, and grabbed the man’s shoulders. “Sallen, listen to me, what are you doing? Come now, Gabrielle wouldn’t want you to do this… let’s just talk it out.” “SHE’S DEAD!” he yelled, tears forming salty rivers on his face, “She’s gone, and it’s my fault! I didn’t protect her! She died saving ME! I KILLED HER! She’s dead because of me!” The man had a wild look in his eyes, eyes full of hopelessness and anger, those of an irrational being. Marcel stayed calm through the tirade, waiting until the man finished to say his piece. “Sallen, I know you loved her. I know she loved you. But I also know that she would want you to be happy. It’s not your time, and by the heavens I hope your time is far away. The best way for you to remember her is to live for her.” Sallen glared at his captain, then said, “Damn you, Marcel.” Then he planted a fist in the man’s jaw. Surprised, Marcel fell onto his backside, and was a bit stunned by the blow. Sallen turned, then ran for the edge. Ceren made a futile jump to catch him, yelling, “Sallen, NO!” But it was too late. The young man plunged off the side of the pyramid, going into a hundred foot free fall to the grass below. Marcel and Ceren rushed to the edge and looked out. Sallen’s body lay broken upon the grass, limbs bent at odd angles. A smile was evident on his face, and somehow his hand had managed to land on his late beloved’s check. Ceren turned, looking queasy, while Marcel looked on. He said a quick prayer for the man’s soul before turning to see his companion empty her stomach. Wordlessly, the remaining pair of survivors climbed down the ziggurat. They continued into the forest in silence, looking for a place to spend the night. A tiny clearing was perfect, and they settled down to sleep. Ceren was obviously shaken by the events of the day, and Marcel knew that he was certainly shocked. He turned and looked at Ceren, a private war raging in his head. One side won out, prompting him to turn and wrap Ceren in an embrace. In a few seconds, she turned and returned the gesture. The spent the night there, wrapped in each other’s arms, needing no words to communicate to each other. Marcel savored the quiet, and the comfort. Gods knew, it may be the last night that he spent with Ceren, maybe the last night he spent alive. He sighed. At least… he would not die alone. That, he promised himself. |