Rakasa (5 page)

M
ary
touches my hand and I’m gone. Sleep robs me from the world. The dream embraces
me, warms me. I feel some measure of peace.

I know it’s a lie. Obvious, really. But I enjoy the lie more
than the sweetest wine.

Mary’s dressed like a bird, all feathers and color. Behind
her are the real birds. They stay in their tree and ridicule me from a
distance, laughing at how much I need this. I’m like a drunk with his hands on
the bottle that’s likely to kill him, but I don’t care. The birds laugh and screech,
cheering me on so that I may go deeper, drink fully, and disappear.

My lady love says, “Wake up,” but I don’t want to.

I want to stay here with her forever. She touches my face.
My body tingles.

She gently presses against my back with her third hand.

Three… hands?

The claws sink into my skin and I jolt awake.

The Rakasa withdraws its paw down the mound’s central hole.
It hisses at me and I can hear it go down deeper into the dark.

My back’s wet and warm. It cut me deep, I fear. Doesn’t hurt
but I expect the wound might kill me just the same.

A growl ahead of me brings me back to the world.

It’s pitch black now. The air is heavy and wet.

Somewhere in the darkness below is my package of dynamite
but I cannot see it for the moon has been blocked by ominous clouds.

I stand, keeping my club aimed at the hole directly beside
me should the Rakasa test me again.

I hear something but it’s not coming from the hole in the
hill. It’s coming from down below, ground level. Maybe it’s not even a sound
I’m hearing but purely a sense of something moving through the thick, humid
air.

I squint in the darkness, trying to catch sight of my
audience below the mound.

The clouds part. The moon shines through. The island is
revealed.

Beneath me are a dozen, no
two
dozen of the hairy
monsters. I almost pull the trigger in a panic but I keep calm.

The creatures are blocking the explosives from view.

They’re just sitting there licking their jowls. Occasionally
one will make a move towards the mound but then the others hiss at it and push
it towards the back of the group.

A rock tumbles behind me. I spin and gasp. There are even
more of them on the other side of the mound. Their big eyes glow in the
moonlight.

And then the cloud passes back over the moon and the light goes
out.

They start growling one by one until it’s a chorus of
predatory want. It’s getting louder and I know they’re coming up the hill
towards me.

I put my hands to the side of my head and scream. My body
shakes like a leaf. I’m crazy with fear. I’m ready for the madhouse, sir.
Please, let me in!

They’re trying to scare me. They’re trying to make me quit.

Not animals. Animals don’t behave this way. They’re not here
just to kill me, they want to break me first—mind and soul. They’re evil
incarnate. I am hopelessly outmatched.

The clouds dissipate, releasing the moon’s glow.

The Rakasa are all around me. I can reach out and touch ’em
if I like. Their teeth glint in the moonlight. Their breath is as foul as the
deepest, darkest shit pit on planet Earth.

But as they’ve closed in on me… as they’ve driven me to the
edge… they’ve also thinned out, revealing the leaf wrapped dynamite on the
ground below.

The Rakasa behind me rises up and is ready to put its teeth
into my neck. I ignore it.

The creature beside me is aiming its claws at my belly with
the intention of gutting me. I barely give it a glance.

Ahead of me, a particularly hairy Rakasa is coming at me
with mouth wide and drool dangling. I don’t look it in the eye. Can’t. Instead
I extend my arm past its head, take aim, and pull the trigger.

The explosive blast sends everything flying. The creatures in
front of me are thrown against my chest while I collide with those that were
sneaking up behind.

Man and beast tumble through the air together, bathed in an
orange glow. The heat of the explosion is unexpectedly pleasant but the blast
is oppressive. I feel my bones cry for mercy.

I land on top of a furry meatsack, which probably saves my
spine. The creature kicks me off and I roll into the dirt.

The Rakasa howl. Most escape the incident with bruises and
smoking fur, but some are engulfed in flames. The burning creatures run to the
jungle and disappear down their holes.

I start up the hill slowly. I can take my time. The monsters
have bigger things to worry about now.

When I reach the peak I get a chance to enjoy my handiwork.

The fire from the explosion has set the dry grass ablaze.
Flames are jumping from the grass to the trees. More fires are spreading from
where the burning creatures died in the jungle.

The island is burning.

I toss aside the empty pistol and savor the moment.

There is a crater where the explosion went off… but no, it’s
more than that. The ground has fallen away, collapsed into the caverns.

I made a new hole.

A tree in the center of the island falls and then its
neighbor goes down, too. A plume of dust shoots up. What’s going on?

More trees fall, more dust. Soon the entire jungle is
collapsing, disappearing into a shroud of dust and dirt.

The jungle is gone but fire and smoke continue to rise out
of the dust.

A strong breeze comes in from the ocean, clearing the dust
well enough for me to gaze out at the jungle and determine what has transpired.

The blast so badly destabilized the island that the caverns collapsed.
The thick jungle has been swallowed by a sinkhole of my creation.

They tried to run and hide in their caves and I brought the
roof down on their heads.

I’ve smothered them all.

I laugh.

I’ve won!

Claws dig into my ankle, cancelling my victory. I fall to my
knees screaming and look back to see a Rakasa reaching out of the mound’s hole.
Its face is burnt and there is blood leaking from its nostrils.

I blow it a kiss and kick it in the face. The claws release
and the weakened creature falls away from the hole, crashing to the bottom with
a wonderful snap.

I dust myself off and stand back up. The mound shifts
underneath my weight. The dirt shoots up dust and the hill seems to moan
beneath me.

“Oh, shit.”

The hill falls apart, the hole widens, and darkness swallows
me. I fall and wait to hear the familiar snap of bones when I reach the bottom.

T
hree
of the creatures are on me the instant I hit the bottom. Their teeth sink deep,
their claws cut me open. I’m being eaten alive.

But I’m not dead yet.

My killers are weak and bloody just like me. I use that.

A Rakasa opens its toothy maw and lunges for me. I punch my
fist down its throat, get a good hold on its tongue, and rip it out of its
mouth. It screams something horrible as blood gushes between its ragged teeth.

The two other monsters take pause, possibly never having
heard their own kind cry in such a way. I put my foot down on the dying
Rakasa’s neck and yank one of its longest fangs from its mouth.

By now the others are focusing on me again. One creature
lunges forward and sinks its teeth into my leg, while the other goes for my
throat.

I block the higher attack with my arm. Its teeth sink into
flesh and bone. I cry out and swing the fang at my attacker’s head, embedding
the tooth in its eye.

The mouth releases immediately. It falls back and claws at
its own face, opening up new wounds as it tries to remove the tooth from its
eye socket.

The last remaining Rakasa releases me and takes a few steps
back. It hangs its head like a punished dog and whimpers.

I stand up straight. Blood is oozing from a dozen wounds all
over my body. I’m going to die and I’m not feeling merciful.

I remove the tooth from the dying Rakasa’s eye. It makes a
loud squelch. The fang is heavy and wet. I hold it like a knife and tell the
island’s last demon that I’m ready for more.

It shakes off the wounded dog routine like a conman caught
in a lie. Its tongue licks the blood from its jowls and its eyes burn with
hate.

Yeah, go on and hate me, you son of a bitch. You wanted me
dead before but that was because you were hungry. Now I killed all your mates. Show
me what the Devil’s revenge looks like.

It occurs to me that I am looking upon the last of a
species.

I mean to kill it. I want to reduce it to the very minimum
that it can be: decoration. I want to shred the flesh and fur from its bones,
wear its head for a hat and turn the rest of it into a rug so I can stomp my
dirty boots across its back every damn day.

Useless fantasy. It means nothing. I’m dying. The color
fades. The tooth feels heavier in my hand.

Let’s make this quick.

It leaps for me and I stab it repeatedly in the gut. Blood gushes
onto my chest. Its claws go into my shoulders. I hold its teeth at bay. Blood
and saliva spray my face from its gnashing jaws. I scream at it and it screams
back. It’s the best worst moment of my life.

My legs give out. It lands on top of me. The teeth go into
my hair, bite into my skull. I hear the individual teeth raking across bone. I
feel blood in my ears. It rears back, hair and flesh stuck between its teeth.

I stab the tooth up into its lower jaw. It cries and blood
gurgles out of its mouth. My hair falls from its teeth, lands in my eyes. I’m
blinded as blood rains down on me.

The thing collapses on my stomach. It’s dying but it’s not
going slowly. It continues to flex its claws into my flesh. It opens and closes
its mouth on air, just hoping that a limb will find its way between its jaws.

The last Rakasa breathes a final whimpering sigh and goes
still.

I let it rest for a moment before I push it off and roll
away.

I manage to stand. I’m going to die and that’s just fine but
I’ll be damned if I die in a hole surrounded by demons. I mean, quite
literally, I could be damned.

Can’t have that.

The caverns are collapsed. A wall of dirt and rock blocks my
path back to the cave that led to the ocean.

The only way out is up.

A tangle of roots hang like a rope from the wide hole that
used to be the mound of dirt. On any normal day, it’d be a relatively easy
climb. But today isn’t normal.

I take the root in my hands, give it a tug, and start my
ascent.

M
y
body is painted red and black with the blood and grease of demons. My own blood
mingles with it, continually leaking from the many wounds, and I wonder if I
should worry about infection.

I almost laugh… then figure what the hell? I laugh my head
off. Infection! Yeah, right. I’ll be dead long before
that
.

It occurs to me that I could attempt to clean the wounds and
patch them up with clothes torn from my dead shipmates. Doesn’t seem worth it,
though. Might as well let it end this way. I’ve won after all. But my victory
came at a cost I cannot afford to pay. It’s best to go out on top instead of
drawing this out and forgetting what it felt like to be alive.

The trees are burning at the center of the island where the
ground fell away. The smoke travels far and wide.

Dead birds are smoking at the edge of the tree line. I pick
up a considerably plump one and start plucking the feathers.

My last meal.

I don’t want to linger near the collapsed mound for fear
that my opponents may rise from the dead somehow and seek vengeance. Anything’s
possible.

If this is to be the end, I’d rather end it with my mates on
the beach and watch the sun go down. I wonder if I’m being too sentimental.
Probably. They were assholes and I don’t really care that they’re dead, but
well… I guess I just don’t want to be alone.

My stomach hurts. I think it’s just hunger but then I notice
the detached tooth sticking out of my gut. Christ. I pull it out and it’s like
releasing a stopper on a barrel of wine. I’m gushing blood down my front and
panic surges through me.

I’m not going to reach the beach… but I must try.

I drop the bird. I won’t be able to eat it anyway.

I run as fast as my legs will carry me. I take the long way
around, going over hills and dry ground to avoid the fire. The smoke is choking
me. The heat is like an angry hand on my back trying to drag me down.

This island wants me dead in the worst ways. Always has. I
take it personally, spit into the fire, and trudge forward.

I will die my way, thank you.

I can see the beach through the smoke. The sunset and the
white sand looks a bit like Heaven ought to look and I wonder if that’s what it
actually is.

Don’t fool yourself. It’s just a beach. Heaven doesn’t have
time for your shit.

I pass through a curtain of smoke and do my best not to
breathe it in.

The smoke clears, I step onto the beach, and I’m welcomed by
my crew.

The droopy, vacant faces of Jarvis Jenks, Ahmed, and No-Eyed
Jack stare back at me. I think they’re drunk at first. Maybe they got into the
rum. Then I notice they ain’t got nothing beneath their necks but sticks in the
sand.

The grave’s been dug up and the heads have been removed from
the bodies of my shipmates. The Rakasa stuck the heads on pikes, even did what
they could to make their eyes look open and aware. The headless corpses are
resting on the sand, their innards torn from their guts and thrown about.

The monsters had themselves quite a party.

I fall to the sand and scream. I’m babbling, weeping,
drooling all over myself.

A twig snaps behind me.

Goddammit. I didn’t kill them all. I left at least one of
them alive. He’s watching me. He’s enjoying my reaction to his little art
project. He’s waiting for me to stand and face him before he deals the killing
blow.

But I won’t turn. I won’t fight. I’m ready. I’m done. I’ve
had enough of this fucking place. If this was a test, I hardly care to pass it
anymore. Let me out. Let me die. Just grant me release so that I can go.

The twig snaps again and a man passes in front of me.

I stop my babbling but the spittle still hangs from my
bloody lips. I stare up at him in wonder.

He’s well dressed. A Navy man. He’s got plenty of buttons
and colors stitched to his chest. In his arms he holds a rifle. He’s aiming it
at me.

“I found one of them!” the man shouts.

A Navy ship sails into view behind the man. Usually a Navy ship
would make me want to turn and flee but now I’m nearly crying with happiness.

I try to stand but the man hits me with the rifle.

“Stay seated, savage,” he says.

A dozen men come charging down the beach. They’re all
sailors for the Queen of… I don’t care. They’re alive. They’ve got a doctor.
They have a ship. I’m saved.

The man next to me says, “I found one of the cannibals,
sir.”

Cannibal? Where? Blood gurgles up from the back of my throat
and I jettison the fluid out my mouth. The man recoils. A woman screams.

A woman?

My vision’s fuzzy but I see a woman step out of the group of
men and gasp at the bodies in the sand.

It’s Mary. No, can’t be. But it
is
!

An officer with a bushy white mustache comes to the front of
the group. I recognize this man. He’s one of Mary’s previous suitors. He must
be helping Mary go in search for me, fully expecting to never find anything.
Mary probably saw through it, realized the man was simply trying to win her over,
but she knew a good deal when she saw one.

The officer says, “Are any of these him?”

One of the sailors goes to the remains of my shipmates and
turns the heads on the pikes one by one so that they face Mary. He does it so
casually it’s like he’s turning on the tap.

Mary covers her mouth in a silk handkerchief and shakes her
head. “No, they’re not him.”

My God, I recognize the voice. I feel power surge through
me. She’s really come looking for me.

For
me.

I stand up with a smile, raise my arm quickly, and shout to
her, “My love!”

A rifle goes off. My face explodes as a bullet rips through
one cheek and goes out the other. Teeth tumble from my shattered jaw like a
Mexican piñata that’s busted and spilling its goods. I gargle on blood and
chunks of my tongue and fall back to my knees.

The officer with the mustache kicks me in the chest and I’m
splayed out onto my back.

“You’ve killed your last man, savage,” the officer says and
produces a pistol from behind his back. He aims it at my skull. If he
recognizes me, he hides it well.

The man who found me says, “I never thought I’d see a
cannibal. Thought they just belonged in the scary stories. Don’t look much
different than us, though, if you look real close.”

“Some scary stories are true, lad,” the officer says. “Savages
may look like a man, but they’re animals. Monsters, really.” He cocks the
pistol. “Only one way to deal with such a creature.”

Mary softly says, “My man is dead like the rest, isn’t he?”

“I expect so, miss,” says the officer, still holding the gun
on me. “And with that fire that drew us here, I don’t know that we’ll ever find
him.”

I want to say something. I want to cry out that I am one of
them, that I am Mary’s lost love, that I am human like the rest. But the bullet
has stolen my tongue and I am only left to gurgle red bubbles in reply.

I stare at Mary. How can she look in my eyes and not see
something familiar in them? How could she have come so far to find me and fail
to recognize her prize?

The officer looks back to Mary. He says, “You may not want
to watch this, miss.”

Mary shakes her head. “No, I think I do.”

The bastard pulls the trigger.

And that’s it.