Cannibal Jungle by Jon Athan

Author:Jon Athan [Athan, Jon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-05-15T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Odontomachus

“Let me go!” Michael shouted. “Please don’t do this! You’re killing me! It hurts! Why?! Why are you doing this? Please! Someone help!”

The tips of Michael’s toes turned black. The skin around the burn marks was a bright red, the color fading towards his heels. The blood stopped dripping from his peeling skin, as if his feet were completely drained. The pain from his toes began to subside. Instead, the pain moved across his soles towards his heels and up into his ankles.

A strong, bald tribesman, his face decorated with red and black paint, approached Michael. He held a large branch in his hand, like a golf club. He tapped Michael’s right ankle. Michael gritted his teeth as a jolt of pain surged into his mutilated calf and his burned foot. Blood squirted out of one of the gunshot wounds.

The tribesman pointed the branch at Michael’s injured leg. He said something, but Michael couldn’t catch it due to the language barrier and the pain reverberating through his body. But he understood the gesture. The man referenced his leg for some reason, speaking as if he were planning something. Then, one of the younger tribesmen grabbed a branch from the ground and ran off into the jungle.

Michael stuttered, “Wha–What are you going to–”

The tribesman struck his leg at the shin five times. He didn’t use enough force to snap the bone, that wasn’t his goal, but each strike pushed Michael’s pellet-riddled calf against the gnarled ridges of the tree trunk. Michael convulsed, but he could barely move. He felt a tingly sensation in his leg, as if a hundred ants were marching into his flesh.

Bug-eyed, Cole was awed by the torture. He had never seen anything like it before—and he knew it was barely beginning.

He said, “Mariah, turn around and cover the boy’s face. If he wakes up, don’t you let him look this way. Whatever you do, do not let him look at this.”

“What are they doing to him? Why are they hitting him like that?”

“Just trust me. I don’t hear any planes, helicopters, or rescue teams. So, this is going to get worse before it gets better and there’s nothing we can do about it now. But you can block it out. Turn around. Protect him and yourself, Mariah.”

As Michael screamed again, Christina turned around and faced the pond. She gripped the wooden bars, her empty gaze fixed on the water.

She said, “Trust him. I’ve seen it before and it’s… it’s the worst thing I’ve ever experienced in my life. It’s not like the movies, it’s not like the tragedies people post on Twitter. It’s real. Even if they change their methods, it will still be horrifying. So fuckin’ horrifying. I haven’t slept since the crash, but it’s not because we landed here. It’s because I still see their faces when I close my eyes. I’d cover my ears, but their screaming is still echoing in my head. Once you see and hear something like that, it never goes away.

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