What You Don't Dare The People

The stuttering of an AK-47 pierced the jungle sounds. Trampling sounds of boots breaking twigs and twisting leaves sounded, completely unafraid of being loud and boisterous. A group of four man dragged a wild board out of the forest. The pig was bleeding. The dead leafs on the ground were dredged into a line. All of them had AK-47's strapped over their shoulder.

"Expired ammunition is cheap," explained Angelo. "Russia sells them here. It's cheaper to ship crates of bullets here than to safely destroy it in Russia."

The men tied the wild boar to a tree and started gutting it. Blood gushed onto the ground in a pool. The dog from the village entrance was released to lap up the blood. John put the fork onto his empty plate. "That's my cue to leave."

John crossed the dirt road back to his Range Rover. He picked up the backpack to get heavy boots out of them. He tied the laces high up around the shaft of the boots. His pants were tucked into the boots. He left his city shoes behind in the car. He shouldered the backpack. He pulled the hip and chest straps tight. And he darted straight out to the jungle. His boots broke through the lush grass near the huts. He pierced the wall of green leaves into the forest. Once he was inside the forest, away from the clearing for the village, there was darkness. The canopy caught every sun ray that it could. The floor of the forest had a lot of tree trunks without any branches or leafs down. Only mossy, wet, spongy plants grew on the ground, full of water and devoid of light. The tread of the boots sunk two inches into the loose organic matter on the ground. His trained body moved swiftly.

The compass gave him a bearing. He'd pick a tree in the distance in line with his bearing and walk dead-on straight toward it. Once he reached it, he'd hold the compass up to his eyes like a gun sight to shoot at the next tree in the distance. This helped him walk in circles, because humans always have one dominant leg that moves faster.

Once he was half hour out from the village and had worked up a good lather of sweet, he pulled out the laptop from the pack. He fired up the navigation software. He checked his bearing. With the laptop hanging around his neck from the big handle on a strap, he darted deeper into the wilderness. The sounds of birds, tree frogs, and howling monkeys accompanied him. His thoughts reminisced about life back home, streets with pavement, expensive bottle service in nightclubs, and the money in his 401k.

After two hours, the jungle forest abruptly ended at a steep mountain cliff with a drop off of hundreds of yards. Big rocks without dirt stopped any plants from growing. The tropical sun was gleaming hot. John found a convenient rock to sit down. He got the telescope camera out of his backpack. He twisted the lens onto the camera. He got the tripod out. He wired the camera to the laptop. He unfolded an antenna and placed it on the tallest rock to run a wire from there to the laptop.

He opened the chat window in his laptop.

"Cold dragon is online."

"Bronte is having lunch at the Hilton Hotel. We need eyes on that."

John consulted the map on the laptop and moved the camera until the blue Hilton logo was framed in the camera. He scanned room to room. Then, he searched the parking lot for the big Mercedes with the national flags on the hood. A bulky guy in a black suit with tie stood next to it. John snapped a photo. Then, the camera roamed to the side entrance where five waiters were smoking cigarettes. They had their black uniforms and white aprons on. John kept watching them. A short, fat guy was silent. A lanky, tall guy kept goofing around apparently telling jokes. His limbs were so skinny that they were nauseating. A hurried woman with large black glasses whisked past them into the side entrance. John snapped a couple photos before she was inside. He attached them to the chat.

"Got an out-of-place person entering through the employee entrance."

"Got it. Facial recognition says that she is a low level member of Dieter's group. Can you do a scan over the city for any suspicious activity?"

John scanned the city sector by sector with the telescope camera. There was an outdoor market for produce. People were selling food out of big bags. In a deserted alley, a woman had lifted her dress and was evidently pissing in the street. A Jeep crisscrossed the city with armed men in fatigues rattling their AK-47's in the air. A political protest movement was coagulated in the center of the city. It stayed there without going anywhere. People were jumping to the sound of drummers. Bronte had the far larger following. The harbor had cargo ships with rusty containers. A large crane dropped a container. There was a large commotion about the spillage of small plastic bottles of something that poured out of the cracked container. A cop came to wave his gun in the air.

Going back to the Hilton, Bronte had stepped out onto a balcony. He was smoking a cigar and talking to another man in a suit.

"Got a few snaps of Bronte. He's talking to a guy."

"Got it. That guy is from the Russian delegation. We miscalculated big time, when we sponsored Dieter."

"Nothing new under the sun. If the leadership didn't have their heads that far up their asses, they wouldn't need us to clean up the mess."

"Do you have a location on Dieter?"

"There is a fucking million people down there. You have to give me something to go on."

"Check his mansion. Rue Verde 425"

"Negative."

"Check his office. Rue de Canal 105"

"Negative."

"He has a red BMW convertible. That should stand out in a city of pedestrians."

"Yeah, I got something on Rue de Puppy. It looks like a brothel. There is a girl in lingerie up front. Her eyes have dark shades. She looks really fucked up."

"Dieter is gay. He's not into pussy. It must be someone else."

"No, hold on. He's on the roof top. He's talking to someone in a uniform. Photo is attached."

"That's General Ruanda. Get the laser microphone out. We need to hear what they are talking about."

John rushed to his backpack to get a long stick with a fuzzy, black cover out of a white bag. The long stick had a pedestal and a telescope gun sight. John carefully aimed the laser microphone. Moaning poured out of the laptop speakers. A little tap to the right and the blare of a TV with a daytime soap opera knocked at John's ear drums. A hysteric woman was screaming while a soft symphony played. The running water sound of a shower and a man singing his happy post-coital song came on: "Ma-ma-ma-ma-Madonna tiamo!"

"They are out of range for good targeting. I'll keep trying."

"Roger."

The two men left the rooftop and entered the building. A minute later, Dieter left the building and drove of his in red convertible BMW.

"Starlight, there is a column of twenty tanks entering the city in the North. They look like your typical Russian stink bugs."

"Roger. What do the voting stations look like?"

"It looks like people are painting them and generally fixing things up. I don't see any thugs or obstructions nearby."

"Okay, cold dragon. I'm going for lunch. Day breeze is going to take over."

John spent the rest of the day spying on the capital. He had an MRE for lunch. When the sun lowered for the afternoon, he packed up his gear. The jungle looked alike everywhere. There were no points for navigation. Without his compass and laptop, he'd be utterly lost. He came upon a herd of monkeys who felt their territory invaded. They jumped up and down and shook branches to demonstrate their anger and scare him off. One monkey would have made a nice football to be kicked around. The whole bunch of them was an uncomfortable thought of getting bitten by a rabid monkey.

When he neared the village, he stowed his laptop. He came a little more from the North side than he had left. He could hear the toiling in the village. It was hidden behind the green wall at the boundary between the forest and the clearing of the village. When he pushed through the heavy leafs, he was taken aback. He had stumbled onto the backyard of Lucy. Lucy was standing in front of her house hanging her wet laundry. There was a pair or red panties with high cutouts for the legs, so that the fabric would run across half of her butt rather than covering it. There was a blue pushup bra. Lucy had a thing for vibrant colors in the choice of her underwear.

She was bent over the laundry basked with her breasts hanging forward and her butt being rounded.

"Hey Lucy!"

"Hooo," gasped Lucy being taken aback with a coy expression on her face.

"Um, I came back and didn't know you'd live here. I can close my eyes if it makes you more comfortable," he offered and closed his eyes.

Being caught in darkness, he imagined her lingerie twirling all around here. His fantasy went more rampant than reality could have ever been. He imagined tiny little skirts and knee-high socks. The steps in the grass came closer. She took his hand. Her hand felt so soft, so feminine. He had an erection rising in his pants and bulging against the zipper. The quiet touches sometimes reach the deepest.

She walked him around the hut. He could smell her, her cinnamon fragrance. He could hear her breath. He could her the nervousness in her breath.

"How about another coke for dinner?" John opened his eyes, respectfully in the front of the hut.

"I can't my Olgues is very protective. If he found you holding my hand like this, he might cut your ear off."

"Ah, Olgues is his name. I thought people were too afraid to mutter it."

"He's not bad, you know. He simply protects the family bloodline very much. He believes that our family line is that of the highest priests on the islands. That makes me a sorceress, dangerous, huh? I could turn you into a frog," said Lucy and flicked her fingers into John's face. He jumped back. "Haha, I scared you!"

Without saying another word, Lucy turned her back and walked back to her waiting laundry. John shook his head and then had a whole body shake at the impression of the seductive Lucy. Then he walked on to the dirt road that cut through the center of the village.

When he got close to the makeshift bar, he noticed that the windows of his Range Rover were busted out. Broken glass littered the ground. A monkey head was dangling from the rearview mirror. It was a little monkey with a black, wet nose and tiny little button eyes. The spinal column was sticking out from the fur. His Monkey blood had dripped on the console.

Angelo noticed John approaching and came running. Angelo waved his arms in dissuading fashion. "Lucy's brother was hear. He was furious. He said that you were stalking Lucy. Don't do anything rash. Lucy's brother is very vile. You are lucky that he only damaged your property. Your car will still drive fine without windows. And any blood can be cleaned up."

John gnawed his teeth together and muttered, "Mission first."

"What do you have for dinner?" John asked with a strained smile and eyes thrown wide open.

"The best for you. You've had such a hard day. Simply, don't get mad. I'll make you chicken gumbo with my father's recipe," Angelo's face radiated the idea of the most delicious meal. John let himself be consoled by the warm friendliness of Angelo. He was on duty anyway. So, he wouldn't pay for the damage from his personal money. He let himself get swept up in the jovial exuberance of Angelo. Angelo was cutting the chicken beast into cubes. The olive oil was already heating in the skillet above the portable stove.

The scent bursting forth from the freshly cut chives and tomatoes put John into a good mood. "Smells delicious. I can't wait to eat it." Angelo was turning the sizzling chicken cubes in the skillet. An oil bubble jumped out. John wiped the sting from his hairy forearm.

"I'll tell you a secret. You mustn't tell anyone. My life depends on it. I have a boyfriend in the city. That's why I support Dieter. He understands gays. However, everyone here in the village votes for Bronte. They'd beat me up. Dieter studied at Yale. He understands. He has tolerance. But he will not win tomorrow. Only you understand what it means to love another man. You are American right? You fight for freedom. Where are your armies to fight for my sweet man and me to live in peace?"

"I'm not gay. I have a co-worker who has a husband. He's a nice guy. I think it requires seeing a couple together like them to understand. There are all the little things, like how when my co-worker hugs his husband from behind at the kitchen table before asking if he wants another egg. Seeing those little things of how they fit together made it all make sense to me. People here can't see that. It's a bit of seeing is believing."

"My boyfriend sometimes talks about us being leaders and we should openly hold hands. He says if enough people stand up, all the other ones will come out of the shadow. And we'll be a crowd so large that nobody can push us down. But, I worry. If only one couple stands up, they get lynched."

"I wish I could help you or tell you something. Yet, I can't. There is nothing. It's a hard situation."

The gumbo was bubbling. A richly brown, red sauce was letting lacy bubbles rise, grow, and collapse with a spray of sauce everywhere. John licked droplets of sauce from his forearm. The paprika, pepper, thyme spices were enveloping the street into a scent cloud. Angelo's face was glowing with the joy of cooking.

"I'll tell you a secret as well. I've had a dry spell for two years. My work requires me to travel a lot. I'm rarely home. And I don't stay long enough to get to know a good girl," John laughed, "or a bad girl."

"You are handsome. You are strong. You are travelled. You'd seduce me, if I wouldn't love my boyfriend that much," insisted Angelo.

"Yeah, you'd think. Everyone thinks I travel to exotic places and the girls throw themselves on me. In reality, I work long hours on tough, technical jobs that require a lot of precision. A girl like Lucy doesn't walk down the street and thinks to herself, 'Look at him being able to bench 300 lbs. I wanna fuck him,'" continued John.

"You'd be surprised. Lucy is very naughty in private. She knows my secret, and I know some of her secrets. Because I'm not sexual threat to her, we sometimes talk. We are friends. Her surface is very cold, because her brother watches her. However, behind her façade, she is one hot, sexual dragon. She often jokes that the pent up magical power sexually charges her. It's either put spells on people or flick the bean."

"Jesus, Angelo, you'll give me crazy dreams by putting those ideas into my head. So, is the whole voodoo thing for real?"

"Of course, it's all horse shit. They make that stuff for tourists and feeble minded people. 99.9% is that way. The real voodoo has been lost. There are ancient things that I can't explain. I'm not a scientist. There is a theory that there are magic spots. And when you go to those spots, nature will teach you its voodoo magic. That's why Lucy's brother lives out in the woods. He's searching for magical power. I believe he has found some things. He scares me very much."

John put his fork onto the empty plate. His stomach felt full. He felt at peace. Angelo was quickly working on his bar chores to wash things and arrange things. John turned around on the stool to leave for this hut. His eyes fell onto a second car that had appeared on the dirt road. It was an old, yellow Honda beater from twenty years ago with the hub caps stolen. He took a mental note and went to his hut. He set up the intrusion alarm again and crawled into his mosquito net. He was out like a rock.

Maria shaking him woke him up. She was strong. With both arms, she had grabbed his upper arms. She was shaking him as if her life depended on it. He could feel that she had been shaking him for a long time. As the buggers cleared out of his eyes, he realized that he was standing middle in a grass field, barefoot and in his underwear as he had gone to sleep. "Master, master, wake up!" she yelled at him full force. Terror was in her eyes like he was about to be thrown off a cliff.

His voice was groggy. He could barely hear himself, "What!?"

"You were under a spell. You were walking in trance to Lucy's hut. Her brother would have killed you had you arrived. I've been shaking you for five minutes. It was a very powerful spell. Are you awake yet?" Maria was panicked, speaking in a loud staccato voice.

"Yeah, I'm awake. Why am I hear in the field?" asked the dazed John.

"I told you. You were under a spell. The dog went crazy and woke me up. The dog wouldn't let go jumping on me in bed until I got up and followed it to you. You thank that dog your life. You better buy it a big bone tomorrow!"

"I've never sleep walked my whole life."

"Don't you understand? You weren't sleep walking. Someone summoned you!"

"Well, thank you for waking me, Maria. I could have stepped in front of a car."

"You don't understand. There is no traffic here. Olgues is here!" Maria's widened eyes widened even more. "Oh, no, I muttered his name." And she went running away as fast as her fat thighs would carry her.

John was dazed in the grass. Reasoning about his options, he had only one play: Go back to sleep. The shrill sound of the intrusion detector sounded in his earpiece when he entered. How could that not have awakened him? He was out instantly.

The next morning rose him gently with the beauty of freshly rained on soil, fragrant plants, and rich forest oxygenated air. A couple of chickens pecked for worms in front of his hut. The high chirps of the birds scattered away any negative or scared feelings. Still, he could feel the grip of Maria on his arms. There were bruised finger prints on his arms. It took strong hits during combat training for him to bruise. He shook his head. The peace of the morning made him meander into the streets without fully dressing up. Casually, he sat down with Angelo who was already singing along to a Rolling Stones song from his little radio.

"I've got some fresh Mangos for breakfast. The hunters brought them by from their morning hunt. They are so juicy that you'll have to change to a clean shirt afterwards. And I got your coke without a snake here. Though, you should really consider getting some anti-spell protection."

John slowly mulled over, "maybe, I should get the snake today. Maybe, I should get the whole snake today. Strange shit happened last night."

"Johannes, you are scaring me," Angelo laughed as he was playing along with a joke. When Angelo heard the truth, he slit his wrist, softly only the skin. He gathered blood drops on his other hand and sprinkled them into John's stunned face.

"Maybe, some of my gay blood will protect you from Lucy. Lucy did a summoning spell. She can't control her magic. I tell her to study voodoo magic. But she insists that it is a fairy tale. And so her magic express without control. I bet she was thinking about you in a horny way. Maybe, my gay blood will break the erotic bond between you two."

"Jesus, fucking Christ. I always thought of you as level headed, Angelo."

"I tell you, don't fuck with those siblings. They have destroyed many men." Angelo's face was stern, deadly serious.

John let it go. He controlled his breathing. He had been taught psychological strategies to destabilize the enemy. He got a napkin and wiped Angelo's blood off his face. He lifted the cut-open mango to his face. The mango was cut into cubes that were still attached to the skin. He tried biting off the cubes with his teeth delicately snapping for them. Thick juice ran down his shirt. The aroma was so sweet and delicious that he didn't stop. "Heaven," he exclaimed looking at his wet shirt.

A women with big glasses came out of the forest and walked towards the yellow beater car. John instantly recognized her from the Hilton side entrance. The woman went straight for her car, turned it around and left. At the leaf wall to the forest, there was a naked young man standing. He had white paint all over his face. His hair was tied together into a bunch over his head. His penis was covered in thick pubic hair. "Olgues," escaped John's lips.