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Larra opened her
eyes. Her right shoulder throbbed
agonizingly. She was lying on
her left side, her hands still bound tightly behind
her. With a moan, she tried to
rise to a sitting position. Even
the slightest movement caused her incredible pain, but she had to be able
to see where she was.
‘Uuugghh!” she grunted, as she forced herself to
her knees. Looking about her
she could see that she was imprisoned in a bamboo
cage. It was a simple jail and
would have been quite easy to get out of if she had not been so securely
bound. The cage was located in
the center of a primitive village.
Larra had been in several African villages during her visits to
Wandering about the village or sitting in small groups were about a hundred
or so men, women, and children.
Tattoos seemed to substitute for clothing, as all of them were completely
naked. Larra noted that those
who came close enough for her to see all seemed to have their teeth filed
to sharp points. Like her captors
they wore human bones as ornaments.
Taking stock of herself, Larra noted that she was
a disgusting mess. Her clothes
were filthy and torn. Her shirt
was so badly ripped that her upper torso was exposed right down to her
navel. Only her brassiere offered
her any privacy, and since one of the bra straps had snapped her full breasts
were only half covered. In addition
to dirt and sweat, the entire right side of her shirt was caked in
blood. Protruding from her shoulder,
just above her right breast was the shaft of the
arrow. The wound was no longer
bleeding, but Larra could tell from the throbbing pain that it was probably
infected. If the arrowhead was
not removed soon she would be in serious danger of blood
poisoning. Incredibly, her Browning
.45 was still in its holster. But
in her trussed up condition, there was no way that she could reach
it.
Strangely, the people of the village did not seem much interested in
her. Occasionally one of them
would venture over to the cage for a quick look, but then they would seem
to lose interest and wander off.
Larra tried addressing them in a variety of African dialects, but
got no response.
Larra estimated that it was probably about
Larra awoke again. It was pitch
black, and a little cooler, but her body was burning up with
fever. In a haze of pain, she
realized that it was only a matter of a few hours before she would
die. But it was not the pain
of her injury or the torment of her fever that had awakened her, it was something
else. There was someone or something
right outside the cage.
Too weak to even call out, Larra listened as whatever it was moved stealthily
around the cage. She supposed
it might be one of the savage villagers, but why was it bothering to be so
secretive?
The mysterious visitor was now at the door of the
cage. Larra could hear it fumbling
with the ropes that held the door shut.
Then there was a slicing sound.
The ropes holding the door shut were being
cut. She now knew that it was
not anyone from the village, but was it a rescuer or something else that
wished her harm?
The door creaked open on its rope hinges and a figure
entered. Larra could just make
out the shape of man in the darkness.
At least she supposed it was a
man. It might be one of her female
companions, come to rescue her. It
a few seconds it was by her side.
She now knew that it was not a
friend. It was running its hands
over her body, and they were the large hands of a
male. For a second, she feared
another assault, but this was replaced by a feeling of incredible relief
as she felt her bonds being cut.
For the first time in hours her blood was able to circulate properly
through her arms.
“Ohhh!”
Larra moaned. Her fingers had
swollen to the size of sausages. As
her blood flowed back into them the pain generated by her returning circulation
was excruciating.
Having freed her, the man lifted her.
Larra was surprised at the strength shown by her supposed
rescuer. She was no lightweight,
but he did not even grunt as he picked up her 140 pound
body. Gently, he carried her
outside the cage and then slung her over his shoulder like a sack of
potatoes. Moving in complete
silence, he carried her to the edge of the
village. Soon they were moving
through the gigantic trees of the
rainforest. It was even darker
among the trees than it had been in the village, so it took Larra a few seconds
to realize that her rescuer was climbing the trunk of one of the forest giants,
and climbing it very quickly. He
carried her easily in spite of the tremendous strength it must have taken
to climb so quickly. It was almost
as if the man were part monkey.
Within a minute they had reached the middle of the
canopy. There, the man put Larra
down, sitting her between two huge
branches. They were far enough
from the village that Larra attempted to ask her rescuer who he was, but
when she attempted to speak, she was only able to make a few unintelligible
grunts and squeaks.
“Don’t try to talk,” whispered the man, placing his finger
on her blistered lips.
Larra was startled. She knew
that voice! Who was
it? She was finding it difficult
to focus. The injuries and privation
she had suffered had caught up to her.
During her rescue her body had been pumped full of
adrenaline. Now that was used
up, and she was having trouble remaining
conscious. She was dimly aware
that the rescuer was tying her hands and
feet. That brought her back to
life. Had she traded one captor
for another?
Instinctively, she fought back as the man attempted to tie her, but she was
too weak to offer any real opposition.
“I’m sorry I have to do this,” the man whispered,
“but I don’t want you to fall.”
This time Larra almost identified the voice, but it her confused state she
was not able to connect it to anyone she knew.
The man finished tying her up. This
time, her wrists had been tied together in front and were tied to her
ankles. With a feeling of dread,
Larra wondered what this form of bondage was going to lead
to.
The man lifted her effortlessly once again, and placed her body over his
right shoulder so that her bound feet and hands went under his left
arm. Immediately, he began to
move off through the treetops, using the branches and hanging vines to move
from one part of the tree to another, and then from one tree to the
next. Larra was amazed at how
quickly the man moved through the
treetops. He swung from branch
to branch and tree to tree with the ease and grace of the best
aerialist. Now she understood
her rescuer’s purpose. Tying
her hands and feet together made her much easier to
carry.
For more than an hour Larra was carried through the heights of the great
forest. She sensed that her rescuer
was tiring. She was not
surprised. She had just witnessed
a most impressive feat of strength and
endurance.
Her rescuer stopped and set her down.
Quickly, he untied her hands and feet, and then taking the same rope
tied her by her waist to the branch he had placed her
on. Then, without a word he was
gone. By this time exhaustion
had overtaken Larra and despite feelings of misgiving, she lapsed into a
deep sleep.
Larra awoke to a now familiar throbbing in her
shoulder. It was now daylight
and she was no longer tied to the branch of the tree where her rescuer had
placed her. Instead, she was
lying on a comfortable bed of leaves that had been placed on a small platform
constructed out of branches lashed together by
rope. Although too weak to move,
she was able to turn her head. She
was alone on the platform.
A noise behind her caused her to turn her head in that
direction. Sitting just a few
feet from her, with a cloth bound bundle in his hands was John
Grey!
“Ah,” said Grey quietly, as he set down his
bundle, “I see that you
are awake.” His voice was
almost completely unemotional. He
might have been discussing the weather for all the emphasis in his
tone.
He knelt beside her. Larra was
still unable to talk. “I
expect you need some water,” said
Grey. Lifting her head slightly,
he held a canteen to her lips.
“Just a sip. Then
more later. Too much all at once
will give you cramps.”
Larra drank greedily, until the canteen was taken
away. “I will give you some
more in a few minutes. First
I have to clean you up, and then I will see about your
injury.”
Grey unbuckled her gunbelt and set it
aside. Then he untied her boots
and took them off. “Now,
he said softly, “don’t be
alarmed. You are covered in
filth. You need to be washed,
and you can’t do it yourself.
I am going to remove your
clothing.”
Weakly, Larra nodded. She was
entirely at the mercy of this strange man, but he had saved her
life. She had no choice but to
trust him.
Nimbly, Grey’s fingers unfastened the remaining buttons on her torn
shirt. Then taking his knife, he cut away the material around the protruding
arrow shaft and stripped off the blood soaked
garment. Next he undid the clasp
on her brassiere and pulled off the lacy apparel, allowing her full breasts
to fall free. Larra felt a flush
suffuse her body in spite of herself.
Grey seemed not to notice.
Having undressed her enough to start, Grey poured a small quantity
of water onto a cloth and began to wipe down her sweat and blood streaked
body. The touch of the cool damp
cloth on her fevered skin was heavenly.
Larra closed her eyes and tried not to be concerned about her nakedness
in the presence of a man she did not really
know.
Grey bathed her upper body and face thoroughly, and then undid her
belt. Larra kept her eyes
closed. It seemed better that
way. She felt Grey’s strong
fingers unbutton her trousers and carefully pull them down her
legs. Then she felt her panties
being removed. It was almost
more than she could bear to keep still.
But she was in no position to resist anything this man
did. She was forced to trust
him.
Grey repeated his bathing technique on Larra’s lower
body. Washing away the stink
of urine and dried sweat. Again,
Larra found the cool touch of the damp cloth to be incredibly
refreshing. When he finished
he covered her body with a blanket, providing her some sense of
privacy.
“Now,
Larra nodded, weakly.
“Try biting on this,” he said, placing a short leather strap between
her teeth. “Now, take a
deep breath.”
Larra inhaled and waited for Grey to
begin. She bit down hard on the
piece of leather as he took hold of the arrow shaft and grabbed her shoulder
with his other hand. Then came
a moment of the most intense
agony.
“UUHHNN!”
Larra grunted, clenching her teeth to keep from shrieking. “That’s
it, be brave,” Grey counseled.
The pain was close to the worst she had ever experienced and then
it was over. Her shoulder hurt
like hell, but the excruciating agony of having the arrow shoved through
her flesh had ended.
“There!” Grey exclaimed,
“I have it! Good girl.
You were very brave.”
Somehow, Larra found his childlike praise
reassuring. She managed a weak
smile in spite of her anguish.
Grey had pulled the arrow from her shoulder from the
back. There was an immediate
gush of blood from the gaping wound, but he placed some sort of compress
over the wound to slow the bleeding.
Then he placed a similar compress on the front of her shoulder and
bound both of them in place with grass
fibers. Exhausted and traumatized
from her ordeal, Larra lapsed into
unconsciousness.
The next few days passed in a haze for
Larra. Her shoulder had become
seriously infected and constantly oozed
pus. Grey was almost constantly
with her, changing the dressing on her wound and giving her water. Occasionally,
she was also able to swallow a little fruit that he provided for
her. For much of the time her
body was wracked by a burning fever.
Grey frequently ran the damp cloth over her to reduce her body temperature
a little. He also gave her some
bitter tasting medicine from time to
time. Whatever he did, it seemed
to work. On the fourth day after
her operation, Larra’s fever broke.
She lay weak, but cured in her treetop
hospital.
“Feeling better?” asked Grey.
He placed his hand on her brow.
Your fever is gone, and your shoulder is no longer
festering. I think you will
live.” He smiled as he made
the last comment.
Larra smiled back. She felt
incredibly weak, but much better than she had for several
days. She was now acutely conscious
of her nakedness. The thin blanket
that Grey had draped over her body hardy covered her considerable
charms. In the tropical heat,
she did not really need the blanket anyway, except when it cooled down a
bit at night. Since it only served
to partially cover her, she wore it more for modesty than anything
else.
“My clothes,” whispered Larra.
Much as she had come to trust Grey in the past few days, she felt
quite vulnerable in her naked state.
“I am afraid that they are still rather soiled,” Grey
said. He held up Larra’s
filthy bloodstained shirt. I
will see that they are washed once I am sure that you can be left
alone. In the meantime you can
wear this.” As he spoke,
Grey stripped off his own shirt.
Larra suppressed a murmur of
appreciation. In her first meeting
with Grey she had not realized how powerfully muscled he was, but of course
anyone who traveled through the treetops like a trapeze artist would have
to be immensely strong. His massive
shoulders and well-developed upper body attested to tremendous physical
strength. Larra found herself
wondering what the rest of him looked like.
She accepted the shirt. It was
a little large for her, but it would do until her own clothes were
washed. “There is food in
this basket,” said Grey, placing a wicker basket in front of
her. “No meat I am afraid,
but there are fruits and nuts. If
you eat some of everything you will have a balanced
diet. There is water in the
canteen.”
Larra ate voraciously. It was
the first full meal she had eaten in several days and she was
famished.
“You look like you are pretty well cured,” said
Grey. “I will be back with
some clean clothes in about an
hour.” With that, he was
gone, dropping down through the branches like a
monkey. Maybe he was an apeman,
as Burroughs had said.
Larra ate until she was full. Her
shrunken belly would not hold much, but she felt revived by the
meal. Then she
dozed. Almost before she knew
it Grey had returned.
“They are still wet,” Grey said, laying her clothes by her side,
“but they will dry fairly quickly in this
heat.”
“Thank you,” said Larra.
She studied Grey intently.
She was much more impressed by him now than she had been at their
first meeting. Before she had
thought him some sort of strange recluse living alone in the
jungle. Now she knew that he
was amazingly tuned in to his
environment. His ability to move
through the treetops alone distinguished him from anyone she had ever
met. But he had shown her more
than this. Somehow he had come
to her aid at her time of greatest need.
She knew that without his intervention she would be
dead. He had shown an amazing
knowledge of rainforest flora. The
plants and he had used to help with her injuries had worked
miracles. It was evidence of
an intimate knowledge of the natural
environment.
Grey noticed her scrutiny. “A
penny for your thoughts
“I was wondering what amazing coincidence brought you to my rescue at
so opportune a moment. A few
more hours and I would have been dead.”
“To be perfectly frank, I don’t know exactly what motivated
me. I usually ignore the comings
and goings of outsiders in my domain, provided that they do not interfere
with the natural order of things. I
have seen many adventurers get into difficulty and have not been motivated
to help them. Perhaps it was
the fact that you are a woman. I
don’t get to see many women very often, especially one so
beautiful.”
Larra felt herself blushing. Grey
continued: “Perhaps it was the fact that your mission was directed against
Again, the reference to the Great War of 1914 to
1918. Larra was
puzzled. If Grey had fought in
that war he must be much older that his mid thirties, unless he had been
only a teenager at the time. She
supposed that was possible and let the matter
drop. Grey
continued.
“In any case, regardless of my motives I decided to see how you were
doing. It did not take
me long to find you. The trail
your party took through the forest resembled one made by a herd of
elephants. I had a little trouble
figuring out which of the canyons you had taken, but was able to pick up
your trail without too much difficulty.
If I may say so, you took an unnecessary risk in splitting your party
up.
“I know that now,” said Larra.
She did not mention that her first misadventure had also been in
“You stumbled into one of the most savage of the lost tribes,”
continued Grey. “They are
called the
Ansmara and are a tribe
of white cannibals. Had
I not found you in time I expect you would have ended up in a stewpot, provided
they bothered to cook you. Most
often they eat their meat raw.”
Larra shuddered. She did not
like being referred to as
“meat.” But she knew
that Grey was trying to drive home the point that she had been
foolish. She had needlessly exposed
herself and the other members of her expedition to risk by splitting them
up. “Well,” she
thought, “At least I’m
the only one who has suffered from my mistake.”
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