Echoes of the beast
Again dedicated to my faithful beta-reader, this fic-let is a result of good company, a certain Fat Bstard Shiraz (no, honestly, that's its name!), and too much Lost World! Not that there could ever be such a thing of course ;-)
And as to having to watch, and re-watch, and re-watch the episode I based this story on…. Torture! ;-D
Set directly after the season 2 episode "Mark of the Beast".
After which through some unknown force, that professor Challenger of course vehemently denies as being supernatural by any means, each of us marked by the unusual stain transformed into an animal.
Even as I write these words, I realize how incredible it must sound. But it did happen… even to me.
Malone sat back, unconsciously tapping the tip of his pen against his lower lip as he studied the words before him. Somehow, despite the effort and thought he put into penning them, they still didn't come near to expressing the full range of emotion, fear and downright fantastical nature of what he and his fellows had so recently experienced. And yet he pushed on, trying to pin down his experiences and observations, preserving them not only for future readers trying to catch a glimpse of their adventures on the plateau, but also for himself. Malone had long since realised that writing was not only a passion, it was an expression of himself; an opportunity to give voice to his thoughts and feelings, to see them from another angle and evaluate not only for what they said, but also what they said about him.
And in that regard, Ned had to admit that his style, his approach to penning down their adventures on the plateau, had gradually been changing. At the start he had noted every detail with precision, capturing the deeds and reactions of his fellow expedition members and the people they encountered with no thought for the consequences of his words, unintentional though it may have been. He had strived to present a clear and honest picture of life on the plateau, with no thought to sparing other's feelings or emotions. After all, it was his job, and he bloody well was going to do his best.
But slowly, almost imperceptibly, that was changing. His status as observer of events was changing, and in turn was changing other aspects of him as well. Matters had come to a head recently when Challenger had pointed out to him that he, Edward T Malone, renowned war reporter and sometimes reluctant adventurer, was an observer of life. Those words had stung him, and now, even without his full realization, were eliciting a response in him.
It manifested itself in small, almost unnoticeable means, but manifest it did. And his writing was one example; his journal entries were now coloured with more consideration for his fellow tree-house inhabitants. After all, the way things were looking at this stage, they might be the only ones to ever enjoy the writing of the same Edward T Malone who had blazed a name for himself in the newspaper world. No longer was Challenger described as a heartless scientist bent only on proving his theories, nor was John Roxton a high-handed aristocratic lord-ling bent on amassing sport trophies, or Marguerite single-mindedly obsessed with collecting treasures of any kind.
Well, mostly. Ned suppressed a quick smile at that last bit. This also served to bring his musings back to the incredible tale he was trying to relay. It was exactly Marguerite's obsession with treasure that landed them in their most recent pickle. Putting pen to paper, he continued his earlier efforts.
One by one, we fell victim to the stone's curse, for that is still what I believe it to have been, despite Challenger's scientific reasoning regarding hallucinogens transferred through skin contact. As one of the stone's victims, I can attest that after an initial period of discomfort, characterised by light-headedness and a slight fever, the affected person felt no other discomfort. In fact, quite the opposite! After the initial symptoms I felt a renewed energy surging through me, a passion for life and its pleasures that we so often lose in the business of day-to-day life. From the discussions following our adventure, it seems that we all shared such experiences, although in varying degrees.
Ned paused again, remembering his own experience with Marguerite. With Challenger, Roxton and Veronica off to seek an explanation for their apparent illness, Ned had found himself alone in the tree-house with the daunting Miss Krux… or was it Miss Smith? Even though they had been forced companions for more than a year, the only thing he knew for sure was that he didn't know her very well. Just when you thought you had her figured out, something would happen that would reveal a new aspect, and not always a pleasant one either. One of Malone's ongoing pursuits was to try and find out exactly who Marguerite was, if that even was her real name. But that was a whole different story, and not one that he felt ready to commit to paper just yet. Especially since he suspected that every so often Marguerite snuck a look at his journals, even the more private one he thought he kept well hidden. In the past, she had even threatened to expunge certain parts of his records; her threats to his life's work had finally caused Malone to snap and lose his temper. And if Roxton hadn't stepped in at that moment…. Malone frowned, hating the fact that she could so easily bring forth the worst in him.
Where was he…. Oh, yes, Marguerite's reaction to the stone's curse.
It seems that somehow the curse brought forth an inner animal in those it branded. The signs were almost imperceptible at first, but rapidly growing in scope and influence until the final transformation. Somehow the victim seems to be unaware of these effects, their unusual behaviour seeming perfectly normal to them while becoming increasingly apparent to those around them. As example, while Marguerite and I were alone in the tree-house with the rest of our party off investigating the source of our predicament, I had the chance to observe first-hand the effects of her affliction. At first she exhibited symptoms that could be ascribed to a possible disease; slight fever and severe lethargy being the most prominent. But in retrospect, those were the first symptoms of her animal nature coming to the fore. Over time, her movements became more sinuous, as she responded to certain basic urges and desires, and culminating in her feasting on live mice!
Malone shuddered, not so much at the thought of seeing Marguerite greedily sucking in the tail of her unfortunate rodent victim, but rather at the satisfaction he saw in her eyes. And his own reaction to her invitation to join her. That part he remembered, all too well. As for the rest… Marguerite's other passions for his, ah, warmth, still frightened the journalist. What would have happened if he hadn't backed away as quickly as he had, what if he had been further along in his own transformation, what if…? Malone could only be thankful for small mercies.
Perhaps fortunately, breaking the curse and returning us to our normal selves also seemed to remove most of the memories regarding our animalistic selves. Thinking back on my own experience I can attest to this fact, as well as be thankful for this merciful side-effect. My memory of events become extremely sketchy just prior to what I assume was my transformation, with any memories of my actual time as an animal being non-existent. The first reliable memory I have is of finding myself precariously perched on one of the tree-house rafters, a fact a number of people can attest to. But let me not jump ahead.
As the affliction of the curse seemed to proceed linearly, transforming the affected persons in the order in which they were infected, I was able to observe the run-up to Marguerite's transformation prior to my own. As I've mentioned, her unusual behaviour became more pronounced, and although I did not observe the actual transformation, I can certainly attest to its results.
Now, how to phrase the next bit? Malone did not want to admit that he ended up running away from Marguerite; not once, but twice, and not only because he was afraid of what she was becoming, but rather what she intended for him. And he was not talking about becoming part of her menu…
I must admit that I found the changes in Marguerite's behaviour disturbing, and sought the solace of my own room while I tried to process her admittedly odd actions. I must remind the reader that at this stage we were still completely unaware as to what was happening to us. From my viewpoint, it seemed as though a disease had taken hold of Marguerite, somehow stripping her of the civilised mannerisms and exposing a more base, animal-like personality. And how true that proved…
When I returned to try and reason with her at a later stage, I found no trace of the bold adventuress, but rather the creature she had transformed into: a snake. And no ordinary snake, but from my admittedly hasty observation, it appeared to be a diamond-backed rattle snake.
Poetic justice if there ever was any, Malone thought of adding, but then desisted.
I found her in the professor's terrarium, where she had no doubt ended up in pursuit of the remaining mice.
No need to mention that he only found her in the glass container after another brief retreat.
Fearing for my own safety, as well as the possibility of her escape into the jungle, I closed the lid and weighed it down with some of the geological samples stored in the laboratory. After that…. Nothing. I can only assume that my shock and fear may have triggered my own transformation. From the evidence of feathers, my unusual perch and some information provided by Marguerite regarding my behaviour prior to her own memory lapse, it seems that I may have transformed into some type of eaglet.
Malone had to admit that he was not completely unflattered by that revelation. In heraldry and mythology alike, eagles are held in high regard, not only as symbol of immortality and courage, but he also vaguely remembered reading something about these birds being regarded as protective spirits, messengers to the gods and so on. More commonly, eagles were known for their keen eye-sight and ability to observe and latch onto their prey from great distances. Not an unwelcome quality in a reporter at all. And speaking of reporting.
Unbeknownst to us at this stage, Challenger and Roxton were also starting to feel the effects of the curse, with the professor ultimately transforming into a goat. Luckily they were able to discover the origin of the curse, and undo its effects before John or Veronica, who had also become branded during her efforts to restore the stone to its rightful place, could be fully transformed. From Veronica's description, John appeared to be transforming into a wolf-like animal, with a change in eye-colour and pronounced canines being the most prominent physical changes
Despite being a victim of the stone's curse, I cannot help but marvel at the transformations it elicited. Was it coincidence that we ended up changing into the animals we did? Or was it the expression of what some spiritualists consider to be our totemic alter-ego's? Knowing my companions as I do, I cannot dismiss the individual animal transformations as pure coincidence. Challenger can be quite stubborn, yet is endlessly creative and can reason his way out of almost every situation… or enclosure. A fact I am assured by Roxton that he has heard goat-owners frequently complain about. As for Marguerite…
Again Ned had to carefully weigh his words. Most western cultures had an instinctive distrust and fear of snakes, its roots probably to be found in the Garden of Eden. However, snakes were also revered as a symbol of wisdom, and some even more esoteric associations with earth-energies and the representation of circular time. Then again, considering Marguerite's sometimes ruthless nature and healthy streak of self-preservation, perhaps he was looking too deep for the reason she transformed into a serpent. And a diamond-backed rattler?! Perfect….
… her transformation into a snake certainly echoes some of the personality traits I have come to associate with her.
There, that was as well as he could phrase it while maintaining some degree of honesty. Of course there were a lot of other comments he could add, but he prided himself on being a gentleman. Mostly. Definitely when it mattered. Moving on…
Although Roxton's transformation was incomplete, I have to agree with Veronica's observation that he was destined to shift into a wolf-like creature. John is always concerned with the safety of the group, or perhaps pack in this case, acting as guardian and loyal companion to all of us.
Ned frowned, wondering if he should expand more on John's transformation. When Veronica had relayed that part of her story, he had caught a sense that she was not telling everything. It probably wasn't as obvious to the others, but Ned had spent a considerable amount of his time on the plateau studying her features, the expressive nature of her eyes and the play of emotions across her face. Her words said one thing, but the small details in her features said another. And his suspicions had proved correct, revealing a lot more than he had anticipated. Malone stared into the distance as he remembered.
After they had drifted away from the dinner table and their discussion of the day's events, Malone casually moved over to where Veronica was pensively staring out into the night from her customary perch on the windowsill.
"Penny for your thoughts," he spoke quietly as he approached, not wishing to startle her.
"Ned," Veronica's smile warmed his heart. "Pennies would do me no good. Do you have anything else to barter?" The light in her eyes showed that she was only teasing him. And although he appreciated the fact that he could joke with her, another part wished that her humour held more of a flirting tone.
"Only my willingness to listen," Ned smiled.
"Oh?" Veronica tilted her head. "A rare commodity indeed," she added, nodding to where the others were still moving about in the common area. Earlier that day, upon hearing what Marguerite had discovered, Veronica had spared no bones in demanding the stone's return to its rightful owners. Convincing the others, especially Marguerite, had not been easy but she had prevailed in the end. And who knows what might have happened if she had not been as insistent?
"If it hadn't been for you, I'm not sure what would've happened." Ned met her eyes as he expressed his thanks. "Or perhaps I could guess…. I'd probably be off hunting some hapless creature." Ned's attempt at humour failed miserably as Veronica's eyes darkened.
"Don't say that," she frowned before turning her gaze to the starry night sky overhead.
"I'm sorry," Ned automatically apologised, even though he had no clue why his words had upset her. "I do realize how close we came to disaster today… again…. And I was just trying to make light of it. Now that we are safe."
"Are we?" Veronica muttered, never taking her eyes from the stars.
"What do you mean?" Ned asked, concern evident in his voice. Was Veronica more upset by today's events than she wanted to admit? Or was there something she had not shared with the rest?
Veronica shrugged wordlessly in answer, unwilling to share her thoughts, mostly because she was still sorting through them herself.
Ned respected her enough to let things be, even though he was dying of curiosity. Perhaps if he let matters be for now, she might be more willing to share her thoughts later on.
Turning to go, it was Ned's turn to be startled as she spoke again.
"What happened today… doesn't it bother you?"
"You mean being turned into an animal? Of course it does. I saw some things that will be with me for a good while still, mostly in nightmares, but we made it through safe and sound. Thanks to you, Challenger and Roxton." Ned replied, moving closer to rest his elbows on the sill next to her.
"Did we? Make it through all right?" Veronica turned to look at him again, and he was surprised to see the uncertainty in her eyes.
"What do you mean?" Ned repeated his earlier question, trying to keep his query gentle even though he burned with curiosity.
"I'm not sure, just a feeling I have," she replied, unconsciously touching her bandaged arm. During their pursuit by the Kanu, Veronica had been scored by an arrow. It was a serious enough injury, as any was in this tropical environment, but somehow he didn't think that was what she was referring to. Taking a breath as if to steel herself, she continued, "While we were out there today, the changes I saw in Challenger and Roxton was disturbing to say the least."
"No doubt you would've said the same if you were here at the tree-house," Ned replied, carefully feeling his way through the conversation. Veronica had seen much worse things in her life here on the plateau and Ned struggled to stay patient as he waited her out.
"Perhaps," Veronica's lips briefly twitched into a half-hearted smile. "After we became separated from John, Challenger realised what was happening to him and he fought it as long as he could, trying to find a solution. Reasoning couldn't keep him from changing though, but it least it put me on the right path so that when…. " Veronica trailed off for a few moments as she chewed her lower lip, leading Ned to suspect that they were now nearing the crux of whatever was troubling her.
"Even earlier, when the changes were just starting to take effect… Ned, he scared me."
"Challenger?" Ned queried, still trying to picture the brilliant scientist being drawn down into animalistic behaviour. It must've been a strange thing to see indeed, especially in a man who prided himself on his higher faculties.
"No, not Challenger… John." Veronica's reply was almost whispered as she cast a nervous glance towards the common area.
Ned kept silent, but his perplexed expression spoke volumes.
"You didn't see him Ned, the way the curse affected him. Even from the start, when the others were feeling dizzy and sick, John appeared to be unaffected, even admitting to feeling better than he ever had before. But when Challenger also became energised, running around and sampling all sorts of plants, John became darker, more intense. Ned, I've never seen him like that before; the way he turned on the Kanu and attacked them, even leaving his rifle with us and literally going at them with hands and teeth… wanting to hunt and kill them all." Veronica swallowed, remembering catching a glimpse of the blood on John's face as he ran past them. "I know, I know, we've all killed in self-defence before, but this was different. He was different." Veronica's eyes expressed her horror more than through what she was telling him.
"Are you sure it was really him? I mean, just before Marguerite's transformation, she took a go at me, which she doesn't remember at all. Nor does Challenger remember anything after being captured by the Kanu."
"No, this was different. At first Challenger and I could still pull him back, remind him of what we were trying to do, but even then we were only partially successful. He changed all right, and I don't mean just his acute hearing, changed eyes or teeth. He immersed himself in the animal part, becoming a savage killer, a feral beast that revelled in the slaughter. He enjoyed it." Veronica paused as her haunted gaze flickered to where the others were; and to John in particular, Ned realised.
Ned also glanced back to where John was sitting; enjoying a joke with Challenger as he idly twirled a wine glass in his hand. Malone frowned, finding it very hard to reconcile what he knew with what Veronica was saying.
"When he came back for Challenger and me," Veronica continued, "it was all I could do to stop him from going after Challenger, the man he'd sworn to protect with his life. And when he noticed the blood on my arm… the things he said, about giving up the struggle to hang on to his human nature, about how glorious it felt to be a creature driven by nothing more than feelings. " Veronica shook her head. "Now you tell me that is the John we've come to know."
"Why didn't you tell us?" Ned managed after a few seconds, shocked at what Veronica was revealing.
"What good would it do?" Veronica deflected his question with one of her own. Of all the members of the Challenger expedition, Veronica had always shared a kinship with John. They were both close to nature, able to read its trails and navigate its hazards, enjoying the beauty and danger that were often woven together. But whereas Veronica co-existed with nature, the creature she'd seen earlier that day had lost himself in it. Yet in retrospect, it all seems so unreal.
"You don't sound convinced," Ned's voice startled her out of her private musings, and she realised that she'd spoken her last thought out loud.
"I'm not. But then I'm not sure about a lot of things that happened today. Now that everything is finished, I'm starting to wonder if it was really as bad as that. Maybe it was just the way the Kanu's curse affected him, or perhaps messed with my memory after I became infected…" Veronica rubbed at her arms as goose pimples sprang up.
"Do you think the curse might've twisted your memory that badly?" Ned asked.
"At first I didn't think so, but after hearing what Jack Keller had told John, I'm not so sure. If being worked up and angry really did speed up the process, then maybe. The stone only branded me after I'd reached the swamp, and John was holding back the Kanu while I fought my way through to the stone carving. I was definitely worked up by that stage, my heart beating like crazy as I fought my way to the stone's resting place."
"You're lucky you didn't have a dizzy spell at that stage," Ned commented. "Wait, you said John was defending your back?" Ned asked only to confirm that he had the facts straight, but it also served to trigger a thoughtful pause in Veronica's narrative.
"Yes, he did." Veronica frowned again as she pondered Ned's words. Granted she was in the middle of a battle, she still could not recall having felt dizzy. In fact, she'd felt stronger and more confident than at any stage during the day. Was that the stone's doing? And more worryingly, what had it been changing her into? Another savage like John? He hadn't experienced any dizziness or fever either. She quickly turned her thoughts away from that line and realized that Ned was looking at her expectantly.
"Sorry, I was lost in thought there for a moment." It took Veronica a moment to recall Ned's last question, and her answer. "You see my confusion? How can I trust my memory when I seem to remember that the very man who was about to attack me would stand against incredible odds to make sure I could get away safely? It just doesn't make sense." Veronica gave a frustrated sigh.
"Perhaps you should speak directly to John about this." Ned offered.
"No. I thought of doing it, but now I don't know. From his comments earlier, he doesn't remember most of what happened, which makes me doubt my own memories even more. If Challenger is right, and he usually is," a quick smile again, but this time more genuine, "then either way it was due to the stone's influence."
"Meaning that it wouldn't be fair to judge him on what may have happened?"
"Exactly. And the last thing I want to do is lose another friend, and a man I've come to know and respect."
Frustrated that he couldn't solve the mystery for Veronica, and a little jealous that she felt so strongly about Roxton, he offered the only thing he could; his support.
"It certainly has been a crazy day," Ned agreed, "and perhaps moving on is the only thing we can do at this stage. Who knows what tomorrow might bring."
"Perhaps," Veronica smiled.
They spoke for a while longer, the mood lifting as they continued. Perhaps airing her feelings was exactly what Veronica had needed, and Ned was glad he was the one to share them with her. But their conversation stayed with him, leaving him to mull over her comments late into the night.
Chiefly among his thoughts was this: how well did they truly know each other? Thrown together by fate, almost every day a battle for survival…. What were they really like inside? One thing was for sure, the members of the Challenger expedition sitting around the table earlier tonight bore little resemblance to the group that gathered in London almost two years ago. As time passed in their forcedly shared conditions, they learnt more about each other with each passing day… and not all of it was pleasant. What other secrets lurked beneath the surface they presented to each other?
And what if even a part of what Veronica remembered from John's transformation was true? The reporter in him knew that John was a formidable hunter; he had killed both man and beast before, and not just on the plateau. But even considering that, more often than not he was their moral compass, especially after Summerlee's disappearance. He was their protector, often throwing himself into a fray to save those he saw as being his responsibility. Was this the same man that Veronica described as a bloodthirsty killer? Someone that could so easily shed his humanity and give in to his more primal desires? And more disturbingly, if the animal alter-ego's were expressions of existing characteristics, however deeply buried, what did that mean regarding the man they all trusted with their lives? Was there a wolf in sheep's clothing among them? And how civilised was that wolf?
Realising that his thoughts were more than just tinged with fatigue and that he should rather be counting sheep than looking for wolves where there weren't any, Malone plumped his pillow and allowed sleep to claim him.
That conversation had been two days ago, and now Ned was trying to finish off his notes on their most recent adventure. He had elaborated on his earlier entries, adding facts and his own observations as he continued to ponder the events of the preceding days.
However strange or even amusing our transformations might sound to a reader comfortably ensconced in civilization, I cannot help but emphasize the darker aspect of our transformations.
The stone stripped away any vestiges of civilised behaviour, forcing us back down the evolutionary ladder and turning us into animals. Animals who know only how to take care of their basic needs; to survive and to kill. If our companions had not found a way to reverse the stone's effect on us, who knew what we might've done to each other or to anyone else unlucky enough to cross our paths.
And even more disturbingly, the fact that the stone seemed to call forth animal-like characteristics that already existed within us. Perhaps giving us a glimpse of what may prove to be our individual downfalls if we do not heed caution; the single-minded pursuits of objectives, uncontrolled passions or any of the other darker aspects of our personalities we try so hard to cover beneath a layer of civilised behaviour.
Only time will tell.
Despite my efforts at trying to pin down the adventure as it unfolded, I realize how fantastic and unbelievable my account sounds.
And yet, every time I think that we have seen and experienced all that the plateau could harbour, it finds new ways of proving me wrong.
I just hope that we are strong enough to survive whatever else it may choose to throw at us.
The end