Team Seven of Heroes Chapter 3

3.

The scent of fresh blood was his trail then when he picked his way through the trees. He had to adapt to the new landscape but it was still his jungle. He had no vines then to wing on but the branches served as his hold when he leaped from one tree to another. He dropped to the ground and sniffed at the grass and the bushes to get his trail back. It was near and yet he could not make it out. There the early dawn sunlight had lent a twilight look with its escaping the cover of the canopies of leaves. He picked himself with wary on each step for the scent of the blood was near. He had his body crouched with his arms hanging loose but ready for action on the spur of danger. He had removed his shirt and shoes and dressed only in the hunting breeches he went forth.

It was then he saw the kill.

The fawn was lying there with its belly torn opened and the blood gushing out alongside the pulled out innards. He had seen the kill was one of the prey he had tracked but its taste of the wild have satiate it renewed hunting instinct. The half-naked figure moved his way to the dead fawn with all his sense horned in for any danger. He sensed none then at the ground level when he reached the fawn. The creature was dead with the fang marred wound on the neck which killed it. He looked past the open belly and saw the fang marks on the hind legs..

“Sabor..” The figure whispered the name for the fierce predator in the jungle. He had brought the sabor to his new jungle but it was kept in the high walls with the feeds that were there daily. It was a turnaround to the environment of the previous era but the sabor was his friend and it was getting older. He was surprised that the creature had escaped then for none of the gates were opened but since it did, it had to be brought back alive or dead.

“Sabor, I am here.” The figure growled out like the other and hoped its long friendship will bring it out. He then heard the shot and the loud roar. His ears peaked out for the source of the shot and then he was leaping for it. He jumped the low branches or fallen trunks by using his hands to leverage higher and then ducking under the wide low branches without a stop to catch his breath at the cleared trails or clearings. He cleared the stream with a single bound and was soon at the source. He saw the sabor leaning by the tree trunk and on the opposite end was the ground keeper with the levelled double gauge gun at it. He stepped in between the two and then stared at the sabor. The sabor was the King of the jungle but then it was wounded and old. It had renewed its hunting instinct against a docile creature used to mingling with others but it took on a different one which carried the weapon of death.

“Lord Greystoke, the lion attacked me first.” The ground keeper was never near the other even though he covered the grounds of the huge hundred acres land. The lion as he had called it was kept in the inner compound and behind the high walls. The owner of the estate, Lord Greystoke had demarked the territory so that his friends will not be seen as possible threats to terrorize the neighbours.

“It came at me from the rear and I shot off my gun in self-defence.” The ground keeper tried to stake his claim on what happened then but the Lord himself was more concerned on the other.  In the jungle a wounded predator was either to be a prey or killing machine. The wounded animal will not seek shelter but it will mark its trail with more killings for food may be its antidote to the suffering it was having. The pain also masked the feeling of friendship and viewed everyone near it as another predator. The sabor growled and then raised it front right paws clawing at the air. It was sending the signal to the upright four limbed figure that it welcome no friends then.

Lord Greystoke then was no more than namesake but had reverted to his other ego as the jungle crusader named Tarzan. He was named that when it was the name he found scribbled on the depilated tree house where he was born. It was much later of his life he was to find out his name meant King of the Apes which was whom he was raised with at young. Lord Greystoke was discovered by Professor who was studying the behaviour of the apes when he stumbled on the naked figures who thought the apes were his kin. He was ‘rescued’ and return to civilisation but his return was more than eventful when the ape man was reunited to his surviving family and return to his noble rank as Lord Greystoke. It was not a rag to riches tale but more like a primitive to civilisation with the throw in of money.

“Lord Greystoke, you may need this.” The ground keeper tossed over the army bayonet he had carried since the last war. The eight inches length dagger dropped near the crouching figure. He reached for it and felt the weight. It was heavy at the hilt but the blade was sharp. It was better than his bone crafted blade which was shorter and lighter.

“The name is Clayton. John Clayton.” The crouched figure did not take his eyes off the sabor while he gripped the dagger. He knew it will come to that eventually; the law of survival. It was renamed to kill or be killed.

The sabor turned and then charged at crouched figure. It was unexpected and so was the move by Tarzan who then charged at the sabor with his own battle cry.

“Kreegah!’ The man and the sabor clashed in midair with the man’s left arm raised to push the sabor’s jaw aside while his right hand holding the dagger in the pick grip thrust into the neck there. The dagger went in deep and then the man twisted his hand to cut it across the sabor’s mane into the shoulder muscles. The sabor roared out in pain before it fell to the ground. The man had not released his hold then and plunged the dagger in deeper until he felt it pierced the heart. With the sabor still in its movement, the man then sat back on his haunches and then he roared into the trees. It was a long eerie call that resembled the ape’s call of victory.

“Lord…” The ground keeper muttered out and then he fell unconscious to the earlier perils. The man who had succumbed to his wild ego leaned over to examine the dead creature. There were marks that weas not consistent to the wounds it should be having. He saw the long wounds on the sabor’s back and noted the wounds were not deep but it looked like it was held against its free will.

The sabor was restraint  by something stronger.

The man then stood up from the dead sabor and then he stepped away.

“John!” The call for him came from afar although it was faint but the man heard it distinctively. It was the years of living in the jungle that honed his senses and increased his survival rate. He missed it very much but the world of John Clayton have to be shared with his own.

“John!” The voice reverted once more in the forest. He knew that he had to reply or there will be hell to face when she catches up to him.

“I am here.” John then replied to the one searching him. She came through with her own mode of travelling for swinging and running was never her best quality. The horse she rode was her own favourite named Hero but it was her that amazed John then. When they first met with him clad in a loin cloth and she was in her wet chemise wear from the fateful run into the river. It was that or the laughing hyena that had got entangled in the lady’s dress. Somehow she had improved on her dressing after a holiday in the main continent which included a trip to the land of cowboys.

“John Clayton, the next time you chose to leave me behind, prepared to don on the gun belt I gave you last Christmas. I will blow your balls first and then your prick before I add you a new butt hole.” The lady dismounted in a manner which the rodeo riders do and landed on her boots. She was dressed in a white blouse and dark brown shade skirt that reached below her knees but it was her accessories that added a class of fashion. On her waist were the two pistols with the oiled holsters for the cross draw and the bowie knife tucked into her right boots while the Winchester was slung across her arms. On her head was the red French beret slanted to the left. She stepped up to the man and threw him a round house punch at the chest.

“You made me worried.” The lady cried out between sobs before she crushed her body into his.

“I am sorry, Jane. I was concerned on …sabor.” John held his lover close to his heart. “He was my friend.”

“And he knows. He died in pride to be defeated by another King.” Jane replied to him. “Now my King can we resume our life as the Clayton’s. Just after you left, a King’s messenger had arrived to deliver you a letter.”

John raised his right index finger to silence his love. He led her by the hand towards the home they build there. After two steps, Jane stopped him and then whispered to him.

“I have not my chemise inside the clothes. Can we convene to somewhere discreet?” Jane smiled at him and then motioned to the high branches above. “Like old times?”

At the road leading to the borders of the estate, Mycroft had on his goggles which were then covered by the morning mist but his thick overcoat sheltered him from the cold air that permeates the forest then. His hands were tucked into the woollen nippy gloves but it did not help him from feeling the vibrations from the fire spurting four wheelers. He had cursed then several times for the hard seat he had to endure on the wheeler but he can complain much for he was doing it on behalf of the King’s service. He then heard the shot.

“I am fucked if I heard that shot.” Mycroft told himself. “There was nothing I could hear with this unbearable din”

With that, Mycroft pressed down on the pedal and the darned wheeler came to an abrupt stop. He cursed out one more time and it was the brake. He was amazed the wheeler was still spurting flame and he lurched forward on the second pedal but it jolted something up his butt.

“Last time I eat Greeks.”