Manus Xingue (24 page)

‘Why - you little cowson,’ swears Lacy. ‘If I only had a grenade, I would soon fix you little fuckers!’

Lacy went to get up but sank back – his strength has gone! The young SAS troopers feels his pulse – it is weak from blood loss! Lacy finds he is still bleeding – the anti-coagulant from the vampire bats’ saliva is still working. Lacy, the reluctant medic of the operation, knows by his raging thirst he has to replace some of the blood he has lost from the vampire bat attack. He is grateful that he has filled his water-bottle before climbing the strangler fig, and takes small, regular sips. Water, he knows is the quickest way to replace his lost blood! Jack Lacy will be lying in extra-late this morning.

About four hours after sunrise, the young SAS trooper Jack Lacy, climbs down the strangler fig unsteadily. He has drained his water bottle and has eaten some high-energy rations for breakfast. He walks unsteadily from loss of blood and begins to crave water.

Some of his wounds are still bleeding. He is aware that, covered in his own blood, he will attract predators and parasitic flies eager to lay eggs! Lacy has to stop soon and dress his wounds with a coagulant, counteracting the anti-coagulant the vampire bats have introduced into his body. He is also aware he needs more water! Walking stiffly, he comes to a jungle pool, covered in thick green scum; nevertheless it is still liquid. He knows the stiffness in his joints and the weariness he feels are due to dehydration caused by his great loss of blood. Lacy gives the jungle pool a good coat of looking over.

By all the different animal tracks surrounding the pool, it is obviously a well-used water-hole, an ideal environment for a predator to lurk unseen under the floating scum. Slowly suffocating while drowning in the firm coils of an anaconda horrifies Lacy!

Remembering a trick Sergeant Kane has taught him during jungle training, a trick used by the indians, he cuts two long branches with the entrenching tool and lays them in the water a few feet in front of him. The branches will not protect him, but will give him warning; if something is sneaking up on him under the floating green scum!

Lacy first fills his water-bottle and adds sterilising tablets. Undressing, he washes himself with water from his water-bottle, then sets about stopping the bleeding. He begins dressing his wounds caused by the bats’ sharp incisors. A few drops of his blood fall into the jungle pool!

Lacy is about finished when a line of bubbles, unseen by him, head straight for him and stop by the branches. He refills his water-bottle, adding more sterilising tablets. The branches in front of him begin to be subtly agitated. Lacy is quick to spot the movement and jumps back, with a curse. ‘Fuck me!’

After a taking a tepid drink of foul-tasting water from his bottle and consulting his map, Lacy sets off again on a compass-bearing, due west, heading for the Rio Negro. Lady Luck has smiled on Lacy again – he has escaped a cruel painful death by suffocation at the water-hole! Powerful coils would have constricted his chest. Every time he was forced to exhale – powerful coils would have tightened their grip on his ribcage – stopping him from inhaling!

Feigning death would not have saved him, for the anaconda would have retained its grip until it felt his heart stop beating. Lady Luck has smiled on young Jack Lacy again. However, he will soon find out Lady Luck can be fickle!

Unknown to Jack Lacy, his US Special Force pursuers have made an early start that morning; they are now only a kilometre behind him. Their Marpari tracker is uneasy: nervously glancing around – he is in the land of the much-feared Invisible People! The Marpari stops by the strangler fig growing on the hollow tree where Lacy has suffered the attack from the coven of vampire bats. The Marpari studies the tracks left by Lacy. He then climbs halfway up the hollow tree and finds drops of Lacy’s blood; he sniffs and detects the strong urea odour of the vampire bats rising from their coven deep in the hollow tree!

‘White soldier – sleep here last night,’ the Marpari announces. ‘Lose much blood – vampires – he weak now! We hurry – catch soldier – this place dangerous – Kier Verde!’

Sgt Jed Hagan speaks in the slow nasal tone of the Appalachians: he is kin to Sgt Jubel Hogger and the two Hagger boys killed by the Cat-men three months earlier that year.

‘I think our Marpari friend is getting rabbit in his blood, Silus – keep a short rope on him - or he’ll bolt!’

‘Sure thing, Jed,’ answers the flame-haired Private Silus Hagger, also kin to the three dead soldiers. Sgt Hagan glares at his cousin Silas.

‘Do you see these three stripes, soldier? That ain’t no crow-shit on my arm. When we are in uniform, you call me Sergeant, kin or no kin.

They quickly move on, keen to catch up with Lacy and return to their platoon.

Suddenly the Marpari stops again! He plucks a tuft of fur that has snagged on a branch four feet above the ground and studies it intently; fear spreading over his face. Hagan looks at the clump of hairs.

‘We are wasting time, boy – these are only big cat hairs.’

‘Judas Priest!’ exclaims Private Hagger. ‘It’s big all right – over four feet at the shoulder!

‘Jaguar!’ announces the terrified Marpari tracker. ‘Jaguar that walk on two legs - eat man-meat!’

‘Bullshit!’ says Sgt Hagan, ‘there ain’t no such thing.’

‘Look – Cat-people here – many tracks,’ insists the Marpari. ‘Cat-people catch two Marpari last moon – Cat-men eat one Marpari – other they break arms and legs and tie in river – to keep meat fresh!’

‘Sounds powerful spooky to me,’ says Silus Hogger. ‘Why don’t we just turn back, Jed?’

‘Look, soldier,’ says Hagan, ‘it’s all there for the seeing – what do all cats do?’

‘Sleep a lot I guess – lick their arses.’ replies Private Hogger.

‘And…?’ says Sgt Hagan, impatiently.

‘Make an almighty ruckus at night – when they are sparking!’ answers Silus.

‘No – you Goddamn jackass – they climb. The jaguar was up that tree and then jumped down, snagging its coat. Now, move, your hillbilly arse! Let’s get this done quickly – the main unit ain’t gonna wait forever!’

The group moves on but the body-language of the Marpari tracker has completely changed. Instead of being cautious, he is now terrified, checking in every direction before moving forward.

‘Son-of-a-bitch!’ Hagan swears, ‘our rabbit here is getting ready to bolt, Silas – we may have to hobble the Goddamn sister-fucker!’ He gives the Marpari tracker a dig in the ribs with his rifle butt to hurry him on; it makes little difference. The Marpari is now more interested in the tracks of the Cat-people than the tracks of Lacy.

Suddenly, the Marpari stops, noticing the Cat-people’s tracks have vanished from the trail – this means danger!

The Marpari tracker apprehensively peers through the jungle foliage, afraid to continue. Suddenly, the reality hits home! The Marpari looks up into the trees above the trail and instantly freezes, paralysed with fear!

Perched on the branches are several Cat-men, in full snarling jaguar dress. Immediately, the Cat-men launch themselves!

Sgt Hagan shoots the first Cat-man with his automatic before receiving a long, barbed arrow through his chest. A club blow fells Silus Hogger as he watches his cousin’s death-throes, open mouthed. The Marpari escapes.

The Cat-man who struck the club-blow lifts up his jaguar mask and runs his fingers through Silus Hogger’s flame-red hair admiringly – it is Manus Xingue! The Cat-men quickly strip Sgt Hagan on the commands of Manus Xingue and begin to light a fire – lunchtime! Silus Hogger is bound – he will keep for later!

When the two US Special Force soldiers fail to return, Major Ely Bodeen sends out a heavily-armed patrol to find them – this patrol returns with bad news!

Major Bodeen reports the situation to Colonel Homer Clay.

‘Sir, I’m afraid we lost another two men. I sent to recapture the single Limey that escaped.’

‘Spit it out, Ely – what in hell happened? Have you recovered the bodies?’

‘Well… not exactly, Sir.’

‘You may be my sister’s boy – but this better be damn good, Ely!’

‘We only found Sgt Hagan – only the bones that is!’

‘Bullshit – a human body does not rot that quickly – even in the jungle!’

‘Sgt Hagan did not rot, Homer – he was eaten!!’

‘Goddamn it – how the Hell am I going to explain this to General Devereux? Two of our men killed by an unarmed, hungry Limey – who then ate one of our boys. The Limeys aren’t that primitive – for Christ’s sakes!’

‘It was not the escaped Limey who ate Sgt Hagan, Homer – according to the Marpari, it was the Cat-men – jaguars that walk on two legs!’

‘Ely, are you on stimulants? I believe you have been in the jungle too long!’

Chevez and Maria have taken a short-cut and are looking for the trail taken by Jack Lacy. Maria is doing the tracking; Chevez guards her, rifle ready.

‘Chevez!’ Maria whispers, ‘I have found the young soldier’s tracks heading west.’ Then, in a frightened tone, ‘Americano soldiers are also following him with a Marpari tracker – the Americanos must not see you are alive, Chevez – we must leave this track!’

‘Has Manus Xingue also used this track?’ Chevez asks.

‘No, Manus Xingue is also afraid of the Americano soldiers.’

‘What will he do?’ Chevez asks.

Maria gives her husband a long, stern look.

‘Chevez, I think the fever has damaged your brain – the young soldier is heading west – towards Villas Santos – where you bought me my lovely dress.’ Maria lovingly runs her hands over her now torn and grubby, cheap, red cotton frock.

‘Manus Xingue,’ continues Maria, ‘will not follow this trail – he will take a short-cut through the jungle.’

‘Why does he wish to kill the young soldier?’ Chevez asks.

‘The young white soldier has blue eyes and hair the colour of the moon. The Cat-people worship three gods, the blue Sky-God, the yellow Moon-God and the red Fire-God. The young soldier’s eyes are blue, the colour of their Sky-God. His head, with yellow hair and blue eyes, will give Manus Xingue much spirit power. Now we must also take a short-cut,’ says Maria, ‘to catch up – to save the young soldier’s life!’

Chevez and Maria leave the track and enter the jungle. They head in a westerly direction. Chevez begins to cast around for Manus Xingue’s tracks.

‘No, Chevez,’ Maria advises, ‘we have no time to search for tracks – we must walk west, straight to Villas Santos – the shortest way.’

After three hours at a sharp pace, Maria stops. Chevez looks at his wife questioningly?

‘I can smell blood, Chevez – fresh blood!’ whispers Maria pointing in the direction. Chevez cautiously moves forward, rifle ready, closely followed by Maria who guards their backs with her shotgun.

Soon Chevez and his wife stop and listen to the sound of running water; they see a small fast-flowing stream ahead and carefully approach. Their eyes fall on a gruesome sight! In the middle of the stream, covered in blood and tied to a stake, is the flamed-haired Silus Hagger! He is barely alive and trying to say something. Chevez goes to move forward to help but is stopped by Maria.

‘It is no use, Chevez!’ Maria says, crossing herself. ‘All his joints have been broken – they have taken his liver to weaken him! He is only in the water to keep his meat fresh – you must kill him – stop his suffering – do not use your rifle!’

Chevez draws his knife and enters the water. Maria checks the tracks on the bank – her husband returns.

‘Look, Chevez – Manus Xingue was here with the Cat-people – then he went west on his own – towards Villas Santos! We must leave – the Cat-people will be back!’ The couple quickly move on. They soon find a large smouldering fire and the gnawed bones of Sgt Jed Hagan!

‘Chevez,’ says Maria, studying the smashed bones, ‘we must take shelter high in a tree tonight – it will not be safe to sleep on the ground!’

Back at the SAS jungle training camp, Belize….The phone rings in Captain Price-Palmer’s office. On the other end is Major Ely Bodeen.

‘I have some awful bad news, Henry – we were only able to find one of your men – Frank Dublin.’

‘Where is he?’ Price-Palmer asks. ‘I would like to speak to him.’

‘We lost a chopper, Henry – Frank was on board, I am afraid!’

‘What was Corporal Dublin’s account of the deaths of my other men?’ Price-Palmer enquires.

‘Chevez got Edwards – the jungle killed the rest!’

‘Impossible!’ Price-Palmer replies angrily. ‘SAS men do not die that easily – we just don’t write men off in this Regiment. Send a full search team back – I want their bodies found – their deaths explained. We were helping you out there, Ely – remember that!’

‘I will do everything possible, rely on it, Henry,’ Bodeen answers.

‘I could be thrown out of the Regiment over this fuck up!’ says Price-Palmer.

‘Relax, Henry, we’ll all be retiring soon – living high off the hog – fine and dandy – with the Iraqi money!’

‘My men come before any money – remember that, Ely!’

Having dressed his bleeding wounds from the vampire attack of the night before and escaped the lurking peril at the jungle water-hole, SAS trooper Jack Lacy has now regained most of his strength after his great loss of blood. The super- fit, young, ex-marine SAS trooper now walks with a swagger and a spring in his step. Every man talks to himself from time to time, however Jack Lacy was also in the habit of answering himself!

‘Well, Jack me lad, find a nice tree to kip in tonight – without any poxy vampire bats. Tomorrow morning I just have another fourteen kilometres to the Rio Negro River and then find a nice easy crossing.’ Jack Lacy was soon climbing another strangler fig; but not before first giving it a good coat of looking over!

The following day the man-eater has been waiting on the river-bank of the Rio Negro all morning and still not a single, native, turtle-egg collector appears. After patrolling the sandy shore, the big cat lies under a tree – it is getting uncomfortably hot. The man-eater begins to doze, in that deceptive, semi-alert way cats do.

After a safe night-sleep and a short march, Jack Lacy comes out of the jungle some two hours later. Seeing the Rio Negro River, he gives out a yell of delight, something he has never been trained to do – silence is the real motto of the SAS regiment. After all, Jack Lacy has slipped through the fine SAS net of Selection.