A Stand Yet Taken (Paperback)

A human voice behind him sliced through the ruckus. "Release the creature!"

The frail man’s bent figure flinched at the deep, rumbling command. Though its tone was calm, it came with unmistakable power. His tattooed, wrinkled face winced ever so slightly. He quivered, the beads of sweat dripping down his thin torso. He turned to the warriors behind him. Most were dressed as he was, with grass skirts and colorful tattoos. Raised blowpipes and jagged spears pointed his way. "Many people will die," he intoned, the words collapsing around his pleading gasps. "Whole villages will die. Even you...and your families...you might all die."

"We are prepared for that," came the deep-voiced reply. The man, heavyset and dressed in western-style clothes that barely covered his sweat-soaked frame, stood stone-still, patient and imposing. A stubby assault rifle was strapped under one arm and a semiautomatic pistol hung from his belt. Once again the voice erupted from the man’s massive chest. "But we are only people. The Tanguk is greater than us all, and to be Tanguk means we are willing to sacrifice. Now release it and let the process begin."

The jungle’s relentless din and rippling laughter pressed down on the wizened old man. He peered down into the water. A faint steam drifted across its surface; be-neath, minute bubbles appeared, evidence of the hot spring rising from below. Rings of ripples flowed out and gently trickled over the rocks several meters away, a knoll where the water commenced its long journey down the mountain towards the Java Sea. So clean and pure—each diamond-like droplet showering from rock to rock. The man’s gaze withered. He knew that would soon change, that the evil once again was about to be released.

"Now!" The booming voice behind him had lost its calm air.

The old man’s head bowed. His eyes widened in fear, then briefly squeezed closed as he opened his feeble fingers. His bare palms, deeply creased from a life in the jungle, revealed a tiny red and orange frog, covered with a sticky white froth. The startled creature croaked once, blinked its eyes and plopped into the water, leaving the white substance bobbing atop the pond’s ripples. The heat of the submerged spring quickly drove the colorful frog to the opposite shore, where it scrambled out onto a rock.

"Kill him." The deep voice—though just as menacing—had again grown steady.

Almost simultaneously, a half-dozen darts sliced through the dank air and plunged into the old man’s back. He rolled onto his side with little struggle, the poison taking its immediate effect. One gnarled hand clutched the grass in front of his face, then fell limp.

After a brief, eerie silence, the stone-faced warriors turned to weave their way back to the safety of their village, leaving the slumped body of the old man to rot in the dark humus. A brilliant rhinoceros hornbill squawked and took flight from a nearby tree. A tribe of proboscis monkeys once more took to wrestling and arguing in the lower canopy. The perpetual clamor of insects continued. Life in the forest resumed, oblivious to the deadly evil brewing in the seemingly insignificant pool.

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• Books > Fiction > Genre > Adventure Stories

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