Into Eden: Pangaea - Book 1 (33 page)

Jesse and Enoch worked their way off the Green Highway about twenty paces and found shelter under a large fern for the night. The rain had started again (they were soon to learn that it could be expected for about half of any given day) and the great fern provided them with some shelter from the downpour. Giant mosquitoes still buzzed all around them in swarms the size of flocks of geese, but the two of them protected themselves the best that they could with clothing from Jesse’s pack, so that even Enoch was completely shielded with a protective cover of wool and cotton. Soon Enoch was snoring away, oblivious to the dangers that surrounded him. Jesse, on the other hand, lay awake worrying about Perez and listening to the noises of the rainforest. Off in the distance he could hear the roars and bellows of great lizards, the strange calls of monkeys and screams of birds. And there was more. In the darkness Jesse could hear muttering. Almost-human conversations were being held out in the blackness. Jesse looked around himself but saw nothing. Just the same he drew his sword and laid it next to him. Back in the Foothills the most that one would hear at night were crickets, frogs, and an occasional owl. But this was different—much different—and much scarier. After a long while, and exhausted from fear, Jesse drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 16
The Green Highway

Perez ran until he could run no more and then forced himself to keep running. The sound of the dying ram-head’s screams sickened him, and the sight of the approaching giant lizard with pointed teeth the size of poles terrified him. Finally, he collapsed, out of breath and out of energy. He looked around. He couldn’t see the great lizard that had been pursuing the an-nef. He remained quiet for a minute and listened. No bellows or screams, but constant buzzing of mosquitoes and the calls of strange birds. Perhaps he was safe. But he was lost. Totally and utterly. Jesse and Enoch had run in another direction, and Jesse had the only compass between the two of them. He looked at the sky, but there was no sky to see. Just a continuous canopy of branches and leaves. Can’t get your bearing from the sun, moon or stars if you can’t see them, he thought. Perhaps he could backtrack to the smugglers’ trail. Gods knew he had broken enough branches in his hasty flight to be able to re-trace his steps. But that would only lead him back to that giant, big-headed lizard with the teeth like sharpened poles, no thank-you.

Perez had to do something. If he couldn’t find his way out of this jungle—and soon—something in the jungle would find him and he would wind up as the next course on some giant lizard’s menu. Somehow, he had to get his bearings, and there was only one way to do it. Perez got up and walked until he found the biggest tree that he could find—a giant cypress whose top disappeared in the leaves, branches and mist above. Problem was, the tree’s branches started several paces above Perez’s head. Not far away, though, a smaller tree grew and high up its branches interlaced with the cypress’. Perez laid his pack and sword at the foot of the smaller tree and began to climb. Not thirty paces from the ground he was able to climb out on a sturdy limb and make his way across to the giant cypress. From there he was able to progress upward again, making his way higher and higher up the tree.

The further Perez climbed, the more that he could see light coming from above him, and after awhile he could see that there was more in the tree’s higher branches than leaves. Above him was what appeared to be a huge nest. Why had he left his sword on the ground? Well he’d climbed this far and whatever it was he’d just have to fight it off—if it wanted a fight—with something else. Perez broke off a branch about a pace and a half long, and snapped off the smaller branches. It was a good, sturdy branch that would make a fine club if some overgrown hawk or eagle tried to mess with him. One good pop in the head and he’d be eating roast eagle for supper. He stuck the club in his belt and continued his climb. Ten paces higher and he realized that the nest at the top of the tree was no nest at all: it was some sort of structure. Man-made or an-nef made for sure, it looked like a large tree-house with a rail-less balcony running around all sides, but a PERFECT observation deck for him to get his bearings—assuming its owners were away for awhile.

Perez sat on a branch, catching his breath and munching on some nuts that he had stored in his pockets as a snack for this disastrous day’s hike. He looked up at the tree-house. No signs of life. Did an-nef fly? He wondered. He’d never heard of any that did. Then again, he’d never heard of any lizards the size of the White Moose until today. Better be careful and keep that club handy. He chucked the last handful of nuts in his mouth and began his final ascent. In a few minutes he was hoisting himself up on the balcony of the tree-house from a large vine that hung over the side. From here he could see the jungle below and river in the distance. Perez stuck his head inside the tree-house for a quick look-see just to make sure that the homeowners weren’t around to complain. It was dark inside, too dark to see, really, and so he went back out on the deck to take a look around.

Off over the jungle Perez could see a sea of steam. Above it an occasional bird appeared, then disappeared back down into the mist. He watched as a giant stork briefly winged its way upward from the canopy and then was intercepted by a pterodactyl that came charging up out of the mist and caught it in midair. The law of the jungle. To the north he could see the river and the Fog Mountains beyond. Off to his left he could see the bridge that the an-nef were constructing. It was not far below, meaning that he must be close to the Green Highway. All that he would have to do was climb down the tree—and if he could keep his bearings—walk an hour or so through the jungle and he’d be there. Assuming, of course, that he could walk in a relatively straight line and not find himself in an hour right back at this same tree. He’d heard someone say that the trick to not walking in circles was to take larger steps with your left foot. Made sense. He’d try it as soon as he got down. First he needed to check out the tree-house more closely, but he’d have to do it quickly, the sun was already low in the west and soon it would be dark. He did not want to spend a night in the jungle by himself.

Perez went back to the door and looked in. Except for a few small, scattered bones and a wool blanket laying on the floor the room appeared empty. He stepped in, pulling out his club as the door swung shut behind him. High above the door was a small window that provided the room’s only source of light with the door shut. He looked up and could see a ledge perhaps eight feet above the floor that ran along one wall. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he could see a form atop the ledge. He raised his club at the silent form as it peered back at him in glowing green, cat-like eyes. His heart was racing now, and he was ready to defend himself.

“You must be one of the humans that the dogs in the forest were talking about,” said the creature in a feminine voice.

Perez’s eyes were adjusting better to the low light now, and he could see on the ledge the form of a woman in black, curled in a fetal position. She sat up on the ledge, dangling her legs over the side.

“Dogs?” Perez replied. “What dogs?”

“The spirit-hosts. They saw you crossing the river last night. They’ve been following you all the while.”

“Spirit-hosts? Here?”

“Oh yes! Many of them! They say that you have one with you as well.”

Perez didn’t like the sound of that. They hadn’t been in the jungle for a day and already their cover had been blown.

“You won’t need the weapon,” she said. “You’re safe here.” With those words, she leaped from the ledge to the floor in front of Perez, landing effortlessly in front of him. He could see her better now. She was short for an an-nef, about his height, and was dressed in what appeared to be a tightly fitting black suit. She was definitely female, but she had the physique of an athlete, with large, muscular thighs and underdeveloped breasts.

“You can put that down,” she said, approaching him. “It makes me nervous.”

Perez lowered the club. He could see her clearly in the light from above the door. What he had mistaken for a black body suit was actually a layer of short fur that covered her entire body and her black hair trailed off to a mane just below her shoulders. Her features were like those of light people—despite her jet black skin which gave way to fur at the nape of her neck, and Perez found her attractive—even though she was not fully human.

“Have a seat,” she said, pointing to the blanket on the floor. “My name is Rahab. I’ve never met a human before. What’s your name?” She smiled, and Perez began to forget that moments before he had been ready to start swinging away with his club. He sat on the blanket, leaning the club against his end within easy reach.

“I’m…ah…Perez.”

“Perez. That’s a wonderful name!” She smiled. “Tell me about the world on the other side of the river.” She began the conversation as she sat down beside him on the blanket, squeezing in between Perez and his club. He was again becoming nervous. He didn’t like not being able to reach the club and her friendly—almost flirtatious attitude made him uneasy as well.

“Do you live in Atlantis, the City, perhaps?” She scooted closer to him, and Perez scooted away—and further from the club.

“No,” Perez replied nervously. “In Albion, the Foothills region.”

“Why are you here? Humans never enter Eden. They’ll all afraid of the an-nef.”

“I’m…ah…here on business, actually. Hoping to…repay a favor…and I’m not afraid of an-nef.”

“You should be. They can be very nasty to humans.”

“But you’re an-nef, aren’t you?”

“Of course not! Isn’t it obvious? I’m a panther…well…three-quarter panther. My father was an-nef. What you humans would call a ‘panther-head.’”

Being three-quarter panther did not reassure Perez. The werewolves were three-quarter wolves, and they ate humans. Still, this one didn’t seem to be licking her chops. She was
very
friendly. She put her arm around Perez and he scooted down some more. Now he was at the opposite end of the blanket from his club.

“Really? My father was gi-nef. Practically the same, really.”

“Are you alone?” she asked. “Where is your friend and the dog?” She leaned uncomfortably close to him.

“They are…around.”

“It must be terrible being the only humans in Eden—all alone—no one to talk to.”

“It seems that everything around here talks,” he replied. She laughed, throwing her head back, and as she did so Perez could see fangs. He glanced at the club.

“You must mean the werewolves and the dogs! Well, it’s best to stay away from them—nuisances really.”

“Animals talking are a rarity in Atlantis. Only a handful of spirit-hosts, and most of them are in the City,” remarked Perez, trying to make conversation while he thought of a gracious way to make a quick exit.

“Forget about the dogs!” she said. “Let’s talk about us.” As she spoke she looked him directly in the eyes and ran her fingers though his hair. “I’m never had a human before!”

“I’m sorry,” said Perez, removing her hand. “I have to be going.”

She laughed again, pushing him playfully on the shoulder. “Did you think that I meant you and me...mate? I’m not in heat, silly!”

For a moment Perez was glad of the darkness in the room—she couldn’t see his face turn red. He laughed nervously, “I’m sorry...I thought...you meant...I mean...” He looked down, searching for words, and his eyes came across a discarded skull in the corner of the room. Again he looked across toward his club. “Then what did you mean when you said that you’d never had a human before?”

“I meant,” she said as the comical expression left her face, “to eat!” With those words she was on top of him, howling and hissing, pushing him onto his back on the blanket. Her claws dug deep into his shoulders as he held her at arm’s length, terrified. Above him her head swung wildly, her mouth open wide, exposing her fangs as she pushed with all her might to sink them into his neck.

Perez rolled over, and now on top, he pushed himself free, jumped up and ran for the club, but in an instance she was in front of him, hissing, howling and clawing wildly. He tried to fend off her claws, but he could feel them tear into his flesh. In desperation he turned and reached for the club, but she leaped on his back, digging in her claws and sinking her teeth into his neck.

He slammed her against the wall with all his might as he grabbed the club. She fell to the floor, but instantly leaped to her feet.

“Stay where you are!” he warned, waving the club at her. She howled, then leaped at him.

Perez brought the club down with a vicious blow, and he heard the “pop” of bone as it connected with her skull. She fell into him, but he pushed her away and hit the floor on her back. In a fury, Perez continued to swing away at her, pummeling her head long after she had stopped moving.

Perez staggered from the tree-house and collapsed to his knees on the balcony. His heart was racing and he was bleeding badly. He had to get away, but the blood that now soaked his shirt was like hanging a sign on him saying, “Eat Me.” Not only that, but the sun was now far down in the west, meaning that by the time that he made the long climb down—if he could make the long climb down—it would be full dark on the floor of the rainforest. He knew what he had to do, but he wasn’t going to like doing it. He went back into the dark tree-house. The panther-lady lay dead on the floor, and he grabbed her by her feet and dragged her out to the balcony. With a push she was over the side and crashing through the branches below. The jungle floor was too far down for him to hear a thud, but the thought of it sickened him. He would have to barricade the door—that was for sure—he didn’t know if panther-lady had a boyfriend, but if she did, he was sure to not be happy. He had to leave the door open long enough, however, to find a place to lie down. He found in a corner a broom made of reeds and swept the bones on the floor out the door and off the balcony. That was all the tree-house cleaning that he had strength for. On the high shelf where she had been crouching he found a couple more heavy wool blankets and a real feather-pillow. He laid the blankets on the floor as a mat and then used his club to brace the door to the tree-house’s only entrance shut. It was now totally dark, except for a small amount of moonlight that crept through a small window high up by the ceiling. The feather-pillow felt great, and as he lay down rain started to fall on the thatched roof. Day one in Eden: attacked by giant mosquitoes, enormous lizards, and a panther-lady. It can only get better from here on in, he thought, and he fell asleep.