Hell's Garden Chapter 3

Hell’s Garden
Chapter 3
         The smoke from the funeral pyre wafted into the sky, the acrid smell of burning flesh filling the nostrils of those assembled around the blaze. Marcel gazed into the flames, watching them consume what was left Yorun. What was left had been a gruesome sight. The… thing, for lack of a better term, that had killed him had taken a good chunk out of him. More than one chunk, in fact.
         It had been a grim night. The brutal killing of Yorun left them all in a state of deep shock and fear.  As soon as the creature had run from the clearing, the group had taken Yorun back to their makeshift camp by the stream, giving him a proper funeral. Now, the group just stared into the fire, each trying to make some sort of peace with what happened. It was nearly impossible, trying to block off that image of the thing crouching over Yorun, its mouth full of… no it was too horrible to even think about, Marcel thought.
         The group extinguished the pyre, said their last goodbyes, and set out into the woods. Marcel saw tears on Gabrielle’s face. She had been just a servant girl on the ship, barely out of adolescence… it was understandable that she was frightened. Sallen put his arm around her shoulder, whispering into her something that cause her to sniff, nod, and wipe the tears away. Marcel gave Sallen an approving nod. The younger man had spent most of his life aboard ships, and it was common knowledge that Gabrielle and he had eyes only for each other. Some twist of fate had spared them both a deadly fate at sea, only to place them on an island liable to take their lives anyway, albeit in a more gruesome way. Ambrose dealt with the death the way he seemed to deal with everything; surly indifference, not caring one way or another. Ceren just looked on with a grieved expression plainly visible. Marcel took her hand, grabbing her attention with a small smile.
         Slogging through the jungle was slow going. Ambrose led the way, hacking down obstructions with his machete. They had been traveling for quite a while when Ambrose succeeded in cutting down a stubborn vine and stepped forward-right into a chasm. Luckily, he managed to pull his foot up, his arms wind milling crazily as he tried to regain his balance. Sallen dashed forward, grabbing the man back from the brink, dropping him right on his behind. “Why thank you, kind sir.” said Ambrose, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he massaged his aching rear.
         The danger past, the group observed the chasm before them. It was quite deep, about a hundred foot drop, an open maw awaiting the unwary, complete with spike teeth at the bottom. “Damn, it’s much too far to jump.” said Marcel, observing the 30 foot gap, “We’ll have to go around. It can’t be too long.” They began to walk along the chasm, which not only seemed to be nowhere near an end, but never narrowed enough to jump. It continued all the way back to the beach, narrowing to an end near the edge of the foliage. Figuring it could do no harm, the survivors moved onto the beach.
         It was quite peaceful in the morning light, the serene shoreline belying any unnatural danger the island really held. Looking at it, Marcel could almost feel like he was back home, sitting on the shoreline and enjoying the sea breeze.
         A voice brought him out of his reverie. Sallen was yelling something to the others, saying, “Look at that! There’s a ship down on the shore! There’s another ship!” The group looked eagerly to where the man pointed. Sure enough, there was a beached ship lying on the shore. It was mostly out of the water, and its prow pushed into the edges of the jungle. Excitedly, the group ran to it.
         There hope was that this was a ship that had come to rescue them; no such luck. It looked like the boat had been here for some number of years. The paint was chipped and faded, the wood rotting. On one side of the hull was a jagged slash of splintered wood, most likely what had forced the ship to land. Laying on its side, clambering on to the deck was ease itself.
         It was obvious, even at first glance, that this had been the site of some past struggle. Dark brown stains covered the deck, blood spilled and long dried. Multiple skeletons littered the deck, some clutching rusted weapons. A pair of bodies lay near the entrance to the hold, one on top of the other. The corpse on top looked like it had its teeth latched on to the body of the second, and it seemed some blunt force had cracked the top one’s skull.
         Ceren stepped over the bodies, walking up to a door near the back of the ship. If this was anything like their ship, that door would lead to the captain’s quarters. She pushed on them, but they didn’t budge. “It’s blocked from the inside.” she reported. She kicked it, and it still didn’t budge.
         Gabrielle looked around, and then spotted another door. “I found a door!” she tried it, and felt it was stuck. She raised her leg, and gave the door a solid kick. Nothing happened.
         Ambrose strode over, saying, “Step aside, little lady.” and pushing Gabrielle out of the way. He cracked his knuckles, then planted his foot on the door with all the strength he could muster. There was a splintering noise, and the door tumbled off its hinges. “See, now there’s how you…” his speech and triumphant smile were cut off, as suddenly a creature leapt out of the darkness and bore him down to the ground.
         Getting over his initial shock, Ambrose yelled in anger. In the light, the thing could clearly be seen. It was emaciated, with pale skin stretched tightly over its bones. No hair was visible, and the only clothing it wore was a tattered shirt and ripped breeches. Its nails were long and claw-like, and its teeth were jagged ridges. Its eyes were its most disturbing feature, red, venomous orbs burning with the need to consume. Other than that, it looked vaguely human.
         Ambrose brought up his arm, trying to shield himself from the ravenous creature’s maw. It grabbed his arm, and savagely sank its teeth into it. Ambrose screamed in pure agony, flailing around as the thing pulled out its teeth. Sallen reacted first, bringing his musket up and firing.  The bullet took the thing in the side of the chest, the force of it tossing it off Ambrose. The thing immediately got back on all fours, an unearthly growl coming from its jaws. It tensed up, and began to spring again. There was a bang, and the creature’s head snapped backward, followed by the whole body dropping to the deck, a hole through its forehead.
         Ceren lowered her musket, still looking a bit unsettled by the experience. Ambrose writhed in pain on the deck, yelling, “Damn it! Damn thing got me good! Oh gods it hurts!” Marcel and Sallen rushed over, trying to lift the man to his feet. Sallen ripped a strip of linen off his shirt, wrapping it around the cursing man’s wound.
         Gabrielle walked over to the thing, cautiously poking it with her boot. It didn’t budge, lying still and dead on the deck. “What is this thing?” she asked, disgust evident on her fair features.
         Ceren walked over, observing the thing. “It looks like a human,” she responded, “but, I think he probably went insane. Someone must have locked him in the hold for some reason… and no one got him out. At least, that seems most likely…”
         Marcel came over. “Perhaps… but how did he survive down there? This battle obviously happened quite a while ago.” he asked. Ceren just shrugged, at a loss. “I think we shoul investigate this ship a bit more.” said Marcel.
         Marcel, Gabrielle, and Ceren headed down the steps. Sallen and Ambrose stayed topside, Ambrose still moaning and clutching his bleeding arm. The hold was dark, filled with a veritable maze of smashed crates and other debris. Marcel planted his foot, and a sharp crack filled the space. Looking down, he saw a skeleton’s vague outline on the floor. Shivering, the group continued on.
         The hold ended with a wooden wall (the stern) and a ladder. Marcel climbed the ladder, forcing the trapdoor at the top open with a mighty heave, dislodging some kind of weight. It opened into a small room, the only feature a simple wooden door. Marcel hoisted his two companions up, and then pushed the door (unlocked and unblocked) open. It was the captain’s quarter, richly decorated. However, all eyes were drawn to the center of the room. A skeleton dangled, by a noose around its neck from a ceiling. From the expensive looking clothing, it was easy to guess that it was the captain himself, apparently a victim of despair.
         Ceren and Gabrielle looked around the room, while Marcel stepped around the dangling corpse and went to the captain’s desk. The only items on the desk were a spilled inkwell, quill, and a hastily scrawled note. Marcel picked up the note, beginning to read it (fortunately it was in his own language).
         I write this as a warning to all that may read it. This gods-forsaken, unholy island… it is a cursed place. If any who land here have the means to leave, please, I implore you, leave without delay! A man brought something aboard, something evil. It changed the men, into some kind of beast! Cannibals, evil and depraved as the most fearsome demon, they do not die like normal men, they feel no pain, and they only feel hunger. They are ghouls! Leave, while you still can! I ask that the god’s have mercy upon my poor soul, though I have chosen the coward’s route, I do it to preserve my soul, and save myself. Captain Aleck Bolin.
         “Damn…” said Marcel, “they’re, they’re ghouls! Somehow, they were changed into these… things. All I know is, they’re not human!”
         All of those in the room looked frightened. It was scary enough to be attacked by these cannibals, but to learn that they were not even human put them on a whole other level. Ceren shivered, though it was due to no breeze. Suddenly, the trio heard a yell from outside. They looked to the door, blocked as it was by a crate.  They jogged over, working in concert to move it aside. Marcel then threw the door open and walked out.
         Sallen was shaking Ambrose, whose head lolled to the side, and whose eyes were closed. He spared his companion a glance before turning back to the unresponsive man. “He was moaning about some kind of fever, then he just blacked out! I think he’s still alive though.” the younger man put his finger to Ambrose’s neck, checking for a pulse, and then nodded.
         The group slowly lowered Ambrose down to the sand, unanimously agreeing to spend the night on shore. The sun fell soon enough, and Sallen and Gabrielle had fallen asleep in each other’s arms, while Marcel and Ceren stayed awake to tend to the comatose Ambrose. “How is he?” asked Marcel.
         “Bad, his pulse is failing.” Ceren checked his pulse, then shook her head and raised a makeshift leaf blanket over Ambrose’s still form. Marcel sighed. Two days, and two men dead. It was not looking promising.
         Marcel turned to ask Ceren something, but the words caught in his throat. The blanket was shifting, and suddenly Ambrose, who had been dead moments before, sat up. He opened his eyes, clouded as they were by a red haze. Ceren rolled away as he reached for her with a growl. Marcel jumped to his feet, drawing his rapier as he did so. The ghoul that had been Ambrose turned to him, its hands grasping. With a yell, Marcel thrust his rapier straight into the thing’s glowing eye, and through the skull. The ghoul’s arms fell to its sides, and its body went limp. With a swift kick, Marcel pushed the body off his blade.
         Gabrielle and Sallen sat up, eyes wide in fear. “How did he… but he was dead…” Ceren gasped, terror plain on her face.
         Marcel couldn’t look at the body a moment longer. What evil did this to men? Killed them, turned them into flesh-eating beasts? Marcel had the feeling that he would find put all too soon.