Future Writer Chapter 7 (8 pages)

Chapter 7.

The small, almost pigmy, warriors began howling and shouting. The group of us just stood there in awe not knowing what to do next. The one who seemed to be in charge shouted orders to the rest of the war party. They began motioning us to walk in a certain direction. We had no choice but to follow their lead.

Fred chose to resist. He took off running into the jungle. He didn't get out of sight when, "Crrrrack!" one of the warriors clubbed him over the head. Other tribesmen gathered around him in a frenzy. They looked as though they were going to club him more when the leader yelled to them. They stopped and drug him back to the group. They motioned for me to carry him. I handed Alexia my backpack which contained the ledger, then picked him up in a fireman's carry position (across my shoulders) then we followed them into the jungle.

I could feel Fred as he twitched on my shoulders.

Bob and Ralph, began talking between themselves, "It would appear that we've been taken prisoner by a Yanomamo tribe," Bob said to the rest of the group, "Resisting at this moment would not be a good idea."

They appeared to be aggressively fearful of us. They seemed threatened by us and were very willing to defend themselves. Their only garments were loin cloths, bundles of spears knives and other weapons, and charcoal paint which was use to decorate their bodies in a fearsome manner. Their hair was raggedly cut in a bowl like fashion. Their lower lips were extended as if it were wrapped around

a wedge, but the most distracting characteristic was the green, slimy ooze that freely ran from the nose, over their lips and dripped off of their chin.

Although we walked into the thick underbrush, the tribesmen seemed to know where they were going. It was almost as if there was a path that only they could see. It took us almost an hour to reach the garden. The tribesmen walked at a much slower pace than we did for they had to stop every twenty to thirty yards in order to dig thorns out from their feet. Once we reached the garden we saw a variety of plants ranging from bananas to tobacco. Both men and women were in the garden. The men had large sticks from which they were loosening up the soil while the women were following close behind them packing seedling into the loose dirt. Those in the garden stopped and watched as we were escorted passed them. Soon the howling and yipping could be heard again, but this time it was not from the warriors. It was coming from ahead of us. After the garden, we walked through a thin layer of brush, then we saw the source of the howling. It was their compound.

The compound resembled a small stadium from the outside. It was constructed from ten foot long poles tied together vertically to form a circular, perimeter fence. The circle of the fence was forty to fifty feet across. Others gathered around us as if to see the latest catch from the hunt. I felt as though we were their prey. The hooting and hollering became even more prominent as we entered the compound. We were marched into the center as if on display. Many of the warriors gathered around us with heavy six foot long clubs as if to begin beating us. Many were dancing around us while bouncing from one foot to another. I place Fred to the ground. The midday sun was beating down on us. One of the most fiercest looking of the warriors approached me and began intimidatingly yelling. I backed up and he moved forward. In his hand was a club that he waved wildly into the air. He looked be twenty five to thirty years old and. also under the influence of some sort of drug. His eyes were red and fearsome, yet disoriented.

I felt as though he was challenging me to battle. As he yelled, I backed away from the others so they will not become involved. Although I was scared, I knew better than to let it show. I kept a stern face, and glued my eyes to his. He made a few leaps in my direction while looking to swing his club. Suddenly he swung the club. I ducked, and he missed. The chattering tribe roared even louder. I felt that this was hardly a fair fight for he was probably half my size. He swung again and missed. He was getting embarrassed, and began swinging more wildly, and more out of control. The more he missed the harder he tried. Finally, I felt as though I needed to take a stand. Once again he swung and missed, only this time just as the club cleared my head I kicked him hard in the ribs. His tiny body crumpled to the ground. Before he could get up, I kicked him in the face. At that point, I clearly had control over him. I took his stick and motioned as if to bash him over the head. At that moment in time, the thought came to me that I could be creating a political action that could cause harm to the rest of the group. I placed the club on the ground and helped my opponent to his feet. He stumbled back to the awning that lined the inner perimeter of the compound. The howling silenced as I walked back to the rest of the group. The

warriors backed away leaving us in the center of the arena. Soon, the Headman walked out. He was obviously the man in charge by the way the other displayed respect for him. He was in his forties, just over five feet tall, dressed in extravagant war paint, feathers and headgear. In suspicious nature he motioned for us to sit in the dirt. We sat down. Many of the tribe members retired to their hammocks that were under the awning. A small group of warier maintained a watch from a safe distance. We sat in the hot sun for close to an hour when

clouds began to develop overhead. The rain came down and we were drenched as the tribesmen retreated to the shelter of the awnings. Then I had an idea.

The last sentence that Clancy wrote was: "And then they were found." I asked Alexia to hand me my back pack. I took out the ledger and in pouring down rain I erased the period from the last sentence and continued the sentence as:

".... by a tall white man wearing a safari outfit.". I closed the ledger then attempted to cover it from the rain.

The rain soon stopped, and the guards took to their post once again.

We had no idea what was to become of us. I could hardly believe this as reality thinking that this could be an invention created through the imagination of Clancy. Nevertheless, we were, thousands of miles into the jungle, being held captive by a group of South American Indians who haven't seen civilization in generations. Because of that, the chances of being found at this exact moment seemed pretty slim.

The mud beneath us dried very quickly in the hot sun. From where we were we could see two tribesmen squatting near a fire. They had a long tube from which they were placing one end into the nose of one man while the other man would blow into the other end. They would repeat this many times until they were heaving and throwing up. The green slime oozing from there nose was even more prominent. They began to sway and chant as the drugs took over their minds. One of the men came to us and started to prance around us as if to cast a spell on us. He was strutting around us like a chicken waving a stick and chanting. He stopped when he came to Alexia. From behind her, he ran his hands through her hair. She was quivering while looking to the rest of the group.

"I can't watch!" said Millie as she turned away.

I couldn't just sit there without taking action. I quickly jumped up and the tiny man reared back. The guards drew back there bows and trained their arrows on me. Grabbing her by the hair, he lift her to her feet.

"He is so intoxicated," said Ralph, "that he would find pleasure in killing both of you without even a thought."

He reached around her waist just under her breast and hoisted her off the ground. He began to carry her off.

"BRING HER BACK HERE YOU PIGMY B*****D!!!!" I yelled to him.

To my surprise, he stopped. He released her and pushed her back to ground with the others. He started yelling at me.

"COME ON YOU LITTLE WEASEL SCUM SUCKER!!!" I yelled to him.

He continued walking like a chicken until he was so close that I could smell his breath as he yelled back.

"COME ON, GIVE ME YOUR BEST!!!" I yelled.

"#######," he yelled back.

"OH YEA!!" I yelled, "I DARE YOU TO!!"

"#######," he continued yelling.

The other tribe members began gathering around as the excitement grew. We were yelling as an umpire and a coach would do in a baseball game. As he would yelled, tribe members would cheer. As I yelled other tribe members cheered. This gave me even more confidence to know that I had some support by the tribe.

"YOU HAVE UGLY TEETH!!" I yelled."

The tribe cheered.

"########," he yelled back.

Others in the tribe cheered.

"YOUR MOTHER IS DIAPER WASTE!!!"

The crowd yelled some more.

"#######," he yelled back.

"YOU SLEEP WITH YOUR SISTER!!!"

"#######,"

"YOU EAT YOUR FATHER LOIN CLOTH!!!"

With each yell the excitement escalated. Before long the attention was off of Alexia and on to me. The headman came over and began to push the other tribe members away as if to keep the fight fair. As the yelling continued, I could see that I was getting the upper hand. My opponent was getting flustered as if to not have anymore insult to call me. Suddenly he turned and the crowd cheered. I felt as though I had won their respect. Then, without warning, he came running back. He grabbed Alexia by the hair and pulled her with him. She began to scream. I ran towards him, but as I did, the tribe members that were

cheering him on grabbed me and pulled me to the ground. The tribe members that were cheering me on began to fight with those holding me back. I broke free and started running in the direction of the intoxicated chanter and Alexia.

Suddenly a massive explosion was heard as a bullet ripped through the air. The bullet plunged hard into the skull of the mad chanter. Alexia and he fell to the ground as the blood drained from his body. Chaos filled the compound. People scattered. I ran to Alexia, who was scurrying to get away from dead chanter. After helping her to her feet, we ran to the rest of the group.

"BAM!" rang another shot in the air.

A plumb of dirt flew up in front us as we ran. We ran with the group to the shelter the awning.

"BAM, BAM!" rang more shots as hammock poles splintered around us.

"Their shooting at us!" yelled John while holding tight to Tammy.

At that moment I dropped the ledger and it fell open to the last page. I could see the last line which I had modified which read: "... by a tall white man wearing a safari outfit."

Then I saw him, a tall white man wearing a safari outfit. He was also carrying a massive hunting rifle to the likes of which I had never seen. An arrow shot passed him from a daring tribesman. Quickly the man drew his rifle and fired. The whole Amazon forest seemed to explode as he fired. The tribesman blew apart as if a grenade were planted in his stomach. I picked up the ledger, and quickly we ran through an opening in the perimeter fence. The big man with the rifle

lumbered across the compound.

"Duigat'cya vokrug perimetr. Ne vozmite bezhat,! [Go around the perimeter. Don't let them get away!]"

By the time he reached the fence, we were well into the jungle. We ran as a group, diagonal, from the directions of the shots. We continued running through the brush for the next hour. Fred and myself ran in the front in order to trample the bushes for the less athletic members of the group. For the entire hour which were running, we could hear the sounds of gunshots fading in the distance.

When we felt safe, we stopped. We were all so tired and out of breath we could not speak to one another. All we could do was catch our breath.

The cool breeze beneath the palm leafs felt refreshing. The sun glisten through the canopy as we sat against tree trunks and reviving our sanity.

"I heard of people like him," said Ralph, "He's a hunter that's not happy with just shooting big game, he's the type that kills other men for sport."

"Look!" Says Greg(the pilot) as he points in the air.

"In the distant sky a helicopter is seen circling that area where the plane had crashed.

"We must get over there!" Greg continued.

"I can't run another step," said William.

"We can't separate in the bush," mentioned Ralph, "we may never find each other."

"If we don't," Alexia added, "we may lose all hopes of rescue. They well see that we are you know.. not living and, you know? no more will they search."

"She has a point," I told the group. "I will volunteer to run ahead. Who will go with me?"

"I will," said Alexia.

"Does anybody object?" I asked.

"How will we find each other?" asked Frank.

"Let's take a vote," I said to the group. "All in favor of splitting up, and... ..say, ... we'll meet at the clearing at the top of the hill where we first saw the garden?"

Everyone in the group raised their hands in favor of that plan. Alexia and I ran through the jungle in the direction of the helicopters. Banana tree branches and thorny ivy whipped back from Alexia hitting me in the face. After a short while she became very winded. I took the lead as she followed. The lead position was much more difficult than being in the rear. To be in the lead was as if

to run in water. The resistance from the bushes cut down ground speed

tremendously. We felt confident that we would reach the helicopters. One hundred yards to go. Thorns were snagging at my pants, seventy five yards to go. My foot fell into a rotted tree trunk, fifty yards to go. Tree limbs were scratching my face, twenty five yards. The helicopters were hard to see through the canopy of the forest. Just as we reached the site of the plane crash, the helicopters zoomed away thinking that there were no survivors.

"NO!!!!" I yelled. "Don't Go!!!"

We watched breathlessly as the two helicopters buzzed over the horizon.

"Why are they going?!!!" Alexia asked.

"They think we're dead," I told her, "and it's all my fault."

"No!!!" she said, "it's not your fault."

"If I didn't lead the group away from the plane, we wouldn't have been shot at, we would have been here when the searcher came, and we probably won't have crashed in the first place," I slipped.

Alexia sympathized, "If anyone were to take the blame for the plane crash. It's me."

"What?"

"Yes, Me!"

"How can you say that?"

"That man who was... shot as us.... He um..... that's my husband and he was shooting at me."