Atawna

Adventures in the Lost World

Episode 1

Atawna and the Lost World

Chapter 14 Encounter

“Damn rain,” Larra muttered. There was no chance of picking up the trail of her two children now. Not even Ayashe’s and Lisha’s forest skills could track them after the heavy downpour that had occurred yesterday. If they found them it would be purely be chance. However, the raft pulled up on the rocky beach gave her hope. It showed that Lin Yao and James had survived. And James was certainly old enough to look after his sister. This would be a test of how well she had trained her two oldest children.

“We may as well head back to camp,” Larra said to the other three women. “With any luck James and Lin Yao will already be there. If not we’ll just have to organize a proper search.”

The other three women murmured agreement. There were more than thirty Africans back at the camp. They could divide into search groups and work their way through the forest. With any luck they might stumble across the missing pair.

Larra sighed. She didn’t like this. Risking herself was one thing. Risking the lives of her children was quite another. So what if the expedition was supposed to be a fairly safe operation? She should have left James and Lin Yao at home. Adjusting her pack she swung off in the direction of her base camp.

Antonov watched from the shelter of the trees. Four women had been spotted moving toward the camp. No doubt it was Miss Court and her collection of decadent capitalist harlots returning from their search. Since the missing son and daughter were not with them he could only assume that her search for her missing children had not been successful. He shrugged. She couldn’t be much of a mother to have brought her children into this jungle hell. It was nothing but heat, rain, and biting insects. He would be damned glad to get out of it as soon as he completed his mission.

Antonov checked the placement of his company. They seemed to all be in position. There were twenty-five of them altogether; not counting himself, Vashinsky, and the foreigner who he had now learned was some sort of archeological expert. It was damned annoying, but at least he could depend on the 23 men he had personally selected. The two women he was not too sure about.

Sonia Gurov and Yalena Belenki were both barely eighteen years old. They were certainly attractive enough and that was part of the problem. He had a hard time making it clear to the male members of the expedition that they should keep their hands off the enticing duo. He had managed to do that by making them his personal assistants. It was the only way he could be sure that nothing happened to either of them. Blonde Sonia, still wearing her Young Pioneer’s red scarf, was standing directly behind him. Raven-haired Yalena was right next to her. Both young women wore looks of eager anticipation. This was their first mission and their excitement was more than obvious.

He shook his head. Who had authorized their addition to the expedition? He felt as if he was being constantly undermined. He was all in favour of the Marxist philosophy of equality, but adding these two inexperienced females to the expedition was hardly conducive to its success.

His mind went back to the problem at hand, capturing Miss Court and her friends. He couldn’t imagine that it would be much of a challenge. They were outnumbered six to one. However, he had been warned that the female archeologist was dangerous in the extreme and he was to take no chances. As a result he had armed every member of his company including the two girls. If there was any resistance it would be their last.

“Wait,” said Larra. “There’s something wrong.” Just ahead was her camp, but it seemed a little too quiet. She had hired 35 porters to help her with her archeological expedition. By now she should have been able to see a few of them, especially as the headman had been ordered to keep a lookout in case James or Lin Yao showed up.

She unsnapped her holster strap, freeing her heavy Browning semi-automatic. Behind her Ayashe levered a round into the chamber of her Winchester 30-30. It was the Dene woman’s favourite firearm in spite of the fact that there were weapons more suited to the conditions and animals she might encounter in Africa. Melissa readied her Baretta. She preferred the small caliber weapon and over the years had become very proficient with it. Only Lisha carried no firearm. She didn’t like guns and chose instead to go armed with her people’s traditional weapon, a seven-foot spear tipped with a two foot blade. It was a weapon that seemed a little out of place in the mid-twentieth century, but she was damned good with it and could not be convinced to use anything else.

“I’ll go ahead,” Larra said. “You stay here and cover me.”

“Wait,” said Lisha. “You have the firearms. Would it not be better if I went first and you provided the cover?”

Larra looked at the tall beautiful African. She was right. Nodding her head she replaced her Browning and unslung her Winchester .270. With a smile Lisha strode ahead, seemingly unconcerned, but her with dark eyes searching the trail on either side.

Antonov cursed. His little trap must have been spotted. Miss Court and her other white friends had hung back, allowing their African servant to go ahead. No doubt they placed little value on her life and had decided to use her to spring the trap. Quickly he motioned to Vishinsky to take some of the men and circle around so that they could get behind her.

The tall African had stopped, her eyes sweeping the camp and the vegetation on either side. His men were well hidden, but he suspected that the slightest movement would reveal their location. He studied the tall black woman. Through the sheltering leaves he could see her quite well, and she was spectacular.

She was over six feet tall and perfectly proportioned. Dressed like the other women in khaki shirt and pants, her statuesque charms were still evident. High full breasts, an almost impossibly slender waist, and full hips, made her almost irresistibly attractive. Her face completed the picture. High cheekbones, dark mysterious eyes, and pouting lips made her a vision of loveliness. He caught his breath as he looked at her. At that moment, her gaze fell full upon him. To his surprise she did not panic. Instead a slow smile came to her lips, revealing dazzling white teeth. “Come out,” she said. “Come out and show yourselves.”

She spoke English, a language with which Antonov was familiar, although he was not competent enough in it various forms to appreciate Lisha’s charming accent. Fuming, he stepped forward, his rifle at the ready. A dozen of his men followed him. To his further amazement, the tall black beauty showed not the slightest hint of fear, nor did her companions who now advanced their weapons at the ready.

“Don’t shoot,” Antonov cautioned. “We need them alive.”

“That’s reassuring, comrade,” said one of the women sardonically. She spoke perfect Russian.

Antonov turned in the direction of the speaker. So this was Larra Court. It had to be. There was no mistaking those incredible violet eyes. She was much younger than he would have supposed. Her dosier had stated her age as forty-four, but the gorgeous woman who faced him seemed clearly in her mid-twenties.

“Would you prefer another language, comrade?” the violet-eyed woman asked? “I speak several.”

“Russian will do,” Antonov stammered. He couldn’t help noticing that although the famous archeologist was completely surrounded she was acting as if she was in control. He also couldn’t help noticing that the very efficient-looking rifle she was carrying was pointed directly at his mid-section.

“Lay down your weapons,” Antonov ordered. “You are surrounded. Any attempt to resist and you will be killed.”

“And why should I do that comrade?” the woman smiled. “I suspect if I do I will most seriously regret it. By the way, there is no possibility that any of your men can shoot me before I put a round through your heart, so would you please ask them to ease up on their triggers.”

Antonov felt his blood go cold. He now noticed that the other two women all had their weapons pointed at him. “This is foolishness,” he blustered. “You will all be killed.”

“That was not my point,” the violet-eyed woman smiled. “You will not be around to enjoy it. And I suspect whoever sent you to apprehend me will be far from pleased with your performance. I hope that you do not have any family members who might suffer.”

Antonov tried to mask his features. His brother and sister had just been accepted as junior members of the Communist Party. His failure to carry out his mission might rebound to affect them. Comrade Stalin had been dead for three months, but the oppressive security apparatus he had constructed was still in place and its chief architect, Beria was still ensconced on top of the Soviet pyramid.

“Lower your weapons,” he ordered his men.

At that moment Vishinsky pushed forward. “Comrade,” he growled. “Are you mad? You are giving way to three women?”

His emphasis on the last word reminded Antonov that Vishinsky really hated women. Well, not hated so much as despised. In his mind they were good for just two things, sex and serving men. It went completely against the Marxist doctrine of equality of the sexes, but he was not alone in his sentiments. But it was the use of the word three that really bothered Antonov. What had happened to the fourth woman?

“Who is this charming gentleman?” the English archeologist inquired. “I had supposed you were in command, but I see that I was mistaken.”

Antonov coloured. He had been afraid of this. Vishinsky was challenging his authority. “Control yourself, comrade,” he ordered. “I will deal with this.”

“Just see that you do, Colonel,” Vishinsky sneered, “otherwise I will take over this expedition.”

The violet-eyed woman smiled at Vishinsky. “Apparently this is the man I should be dealing with.” Lowering her rifle she slowly raised her left hand.

Crack! The sound of a rifle shot came from the trees. Vishinsky’s hat flew from his head, taking a little bit of his scalp with it.

“The fourth woman!” Antonov thought as he hit the ground along with the rest of his company. The three women remained standing. Antonov couldn’t help thinking that he and his men resembled medieval serfs bowed before their masters. Angrily he attempted to raise his rifle, but suddenly there was a gun at his head. He froze, noticing that Vishinsky was threatened by the tall black woman who had her spear at his throat. The rest of his men and the two girls appeared bewildered by the turn of events, looking first at him and then that the tree women.

“I am not pleased, comrade,” the violet-eyed beauty said. “You raid my camp and drive off my porters and then threaten me. If you have harmed a single one of my porters I shall be very unhappy.”

“Enough of this!” cried a voice next to him. Antonov recognized it as that of Illya Kreskin, a veteran of the Great Patriotic War who had served with Antonov against the German invaders. Kreskin got to his knees, leveling his rifle at the arrogant British bitch.

Boom! Almost as if by magic the sidearm of the British woman appeared in her hand. The bullet blew away the back of Kreskin’s head. Then absolute chaos erupted as almost every man present sought to avenge their dead comrade. Unfortunately, they were all too slow. With incredible rapidity and devastating accuracy the violet-eyed woman and her tall companion fired their pistols at point blank range into the scrambling men. Other bullets came from the forest. Only the tall black women used no firearm. She, did however, kill two men with the razor edge of her spear.

It was too much for the remaining men. They broke and ran for their lives, leaving the women in control of the battleground.

“Assholes,” said Melissa Gallant, using her usual blunt language. “If it isn’t Nazis it’s Commies. When is the world going to leave us alone?”

Larra shook her head. “What a bloody mess.” She didn’t like pointless killing, but she had been forced into this situation. On the ground around her were a dozen bodies. She and Melissa, with Ayashe firing from the forest, had devastated the Russians. It seemed like such a waste.

A few minutes later she wished that she had killed more of them. “Bastards,” she murmured. In front of her was the fly-covered body of Juma, one of her porters. He had clearly been tortured to death.

Melissa and Ayashe came and stood beside her. They stared at the body of the porter. “Murderers,” said Melissa. “We ought to go after them.”

“I agree,” said Larra, “but we’re not going to. Let the jungle deal with them. They were in such a hurry to leave they left all of their equipment. I suspect they are going to have a very unpleasant return journey.”

“What about our porters?” Melissa asked. “It is going to be difficult to finish our expedition without them.”

“Let’s wait a day or so and see if they come back. After all, all the food and shelter is here. They might return when they get hungry enough.”

The other women nodded. It made sense. “We’ll post a guard at night,” Larra said. “Just in case the Russians decide to return.”

Larra sighed. First James and Lin Yao had disappeared, and now there was this disaster. It seemed that bad luck and trouble seemed to follow her everywhere.

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