Genre: Action / Adventure / Suspense / Drama / Romance
Rated T for Violence (this chapter has a brush of M-rated violence!)
UPDATE: This story is currently undergoing a revision. I'm sorry for the delay guys, but blame college and new ideas that came into the fray. This chapter will combine the first and second of the previous iteration of the story, but the third chapter could either stay the same or possibly change with the direction i'm heading towards though. The influences from Michael Crichton's Congo are also in as well, along with some other things.
Story: Arnold has longed to reunite with his parents and he may get that chance! But can he and his friends brave the dangers of what's in store for them? Find out!
Disclaimer: Hey Arnold! belongs to Craig Bartlett and Nickelodeon. I only own my OC's.
ISLA VERDE
10 kilometers from the coast of San Lorenzo
The morning sun descended its heat onto the coolness of the jungle, and with the fogginess gone; a world of beauty and danger had emerged. Enormous trees, as tall as general buildings, were the homes to millions of organisms that flourished the needs of H20 thanks to humidity from the sun. Though not having as much variety as the Amazon rainforest, this jungle still had a lot of wonders to behold. Howler monkeys, toucans, anacondas, poisonous plants, poison-arrow frogs, you name it. This is not a walk in the zoo, for if you took a photograph it would look quite post card-ish, but once inside the damn place, that feeling would evaporate and instead, you would walk on the surface of Mars.
An expedition of scientists and executives was currently underway in the jungles of Isla Verda, a large island just off the coast of San Lorenzo, located at the Gulf of Honduras. and leading them was a mercenary named John Cogan; he was a barrel chested bearded man in his late 50's who broke from the SBS (UK counterpart of the Navy Seals) back in the 1970's after his involvement on the shootings of unarmed protesters on Bloody Sunday in Ireland. He had been hired to take them into Isla Verde along with some porters as well. He had led expeditions for companies before: mainly in the coal and oil departments. He spoke some Spanish which made him suitable for the job. He also traveled to many jungles in his past-time but he had a feeling that this mission was a little… off.
Before leading this operation, he was set to have a mission where he was tasked to hunt down a husband and wife team who have been sabotaging his client's operation in the jungle, but he declined and demanded another mission due to the low fee. This didn't sit well with the company, but they'll get back to this issue eventually.
What they were after was something called a Type Zero diamond. To the geologists, it was the rarest type of diamond found anywhere in the world and rumors flung around suggesting it is on the island. Their conversations about diamonds went far over Cogan's head, such as ion properties, atomic structure, electrons, protons, neutrons, you name it. He didn't give much thought to it, other than just getting the mission done. But he was intrigued by the company's intention of what they were going to do with it after the mission is all said and done.
Even after many days of walking including a few members wanting to give up, the rest of the expedition was still adamant on the hunt for the diamond. This was standard procedure from the company that sent them: if you don't find your prize, send your resignation papers in, no exceptions. It was all going routinely until one day around noon when the porters flatly refused to proceed any further. They insisted that any man foolish enough to go further would be eaten alive, and would only leave bones behind. They kept touching their bodies, and repeating that they would be eaten.
Like most of the porters, all of them had superstitions about this island's jungle. Cogan called for the headman. "What tribes are here?" Cogan asked, pointing deeper to the jungle ahead.
"No tribes," the headman said.
"No tribes at all? Not even the Green Eyes?" he asked, referring to the mysterious tribe that was rumored to live on the island.
"The Green Eyes live on this island, but no men come around this vicinity," the headman said. "This is the area of los devoradores."
"Devoradores?"
"Yes, Mr. Cogan. This is their home."
"Can you please be specific? Who are they?"
"Horrible, vile monsters." the headman said ominously. "Se comen hombres only Mr. Cogan. Eat men. The worst of them is here."
"What do they look like?"
"No one knows, but I would be fine con la Chupacabra. That's how scared I am of them. We shouldn't have came here."
Cogan sighed. Like his type, he got tired of hearing about devoradores. Devoradores was everywhere, from the whistling of winds, the high noises of insects from the soil, and the rustling of the plants. But the belief in devoradores was prevalent throughout much of the island, moreso when San Lorenzian fisherman wounded up never returning home once they embarked into its jungle.
He obliged to waste the rest of the day in tedious negotiation. In the end, he doubled their wages and promised them firearms when they returned to the mainland, and they reluctantly agreed to continue on. Cogan considered the incident an irritating native ploy. Porters could generally be counted on to invoke some local superstition to increase their wages, once an expedition was deep enough into the field and be dependent on them. He had budgeted for this eventually and having agreed to their demands, he thought no more of it. I can't wait to get out of this hellhole. I should've brought my guys… they're better than the rest of us combined.
Even when they came upon several areas littered with shattered fragments of bone-which the porters found frightening-Cogan was not concerned, at least for the moment. Upon examination, he found the bones were not human but rather the small delicate bones of howler monkeys. It was true that there had been many bones, and he had no idea why they should be shattered, but he had been through many jungles in his lifetime and had seen many inexplicable things, but he always reminded himself that jungles were the prime candidate for "survival of the fittest."
The expedition then saw overgrown fragments of stone that suggested a city had once stood in this area. Cogan had come upon unexplored ruins before. In Peru, in the Congo (he got lucky to get out of there since the area was about to escalate into a civil war), in Asia, there were cities lost to the human eye that have now been discovered. Like his thoughts of diamond properties, he didn't care.
He and the expedition camped the first night near the ruins, in one of the few open spaces in the jungle. The porters were panic-stricken, insisting that the evil forces would attack them during nightfall. Their fear also infected the geologists and executives. In fact, some have noted that in this particular space close to the ruins, the bones that lay on the ground weren't howler monkeys, but keen to that of human! To pacify them, Cogan had posted a few guards that night; himself and some of the more efficient porters. In the back of his mind, Cogan thought these legends were utter rubbish and that nothing would happen tonight.
It was midnight. Movement circled in the bushes, and sounds of very low wheez came in. Cogan thought it was a black jaguar but other than that, it remained quiet for the rest of nightfall until dawn. Goddamn it, why can't I at least have a one full night of rest?!
TECHCORP ENTERPRISES - COMMUNICATIONS CONTROL ROOM
San Diego, California
It was a big control room that was the shape of a rotunda and the size of the NASA Mission Control Center. Sleek, efficient, and up to date in technology, this room controlled every little facet of TechCorp. Windowless, dark, hollow, cold, it was a room made only to keep the heat of computers very low, with no concern whatsoever for the human being. When you enter, you could see giant, black screens that covered half of the room. Employees were to be sent down a tiny case of stairs to their desks, but if the CEO was to enter, the walkway to the center is his alone, where he can scan every employee's degree of efficiency.
And from the elevator, came forth a man, though nearing his 50's, had a suave look with a set of quaff hair to add and a dark blue business suit bought from a store like Nordstrom . Most of the time, he's not a very pleasant man to be around, for many employees always thought of him as "Emperor," though none of them would ever say that to his face.
He is Travis Scannell, the CEO of TechCorp. This company is his life's work, bringing in the new advancements in telecommunications. Whenever the next idea was brought up, he would put the board late up at night, due to him being a notorious insomniac. TechCorp, was poised to be one of the top leaders in the telecommunications industry and a couple of other branches Scannell was looking into. But that wasn't all, weapons were a subsidiary that he was interested in, but due to its controversial nature, he chose to keep it under wraps due to potential media scrutiny that had arisen from weapons manufacturers that were rumored to have ties in the black market, not to mention that TechCorp was now starting to become famous from print magazines such as TIME magazine, Newsweek and major media outlets such as CNN, Fox News, and MSNBC.
He figured it would only be a small matter of time before the media loses interest in TechCorp so that way he can finally work in solitude. And he finally found his catalyst when he heard of the downfall of Future Tech Industries, a company that tried to demolish a young boy's neighborhood and turn it into a giant shopping mall. TechCorp often engaged FTI with corporate espionage, bribing its employees for information of a new technology that Scheck was secretly developing, but didn't pay as much attention to compared to his mall. And with Scheck now in prison, all of Future Tech's assets were now in question… with the exception of its technology department since Scannell made sure no one ever found its existence.
But for now, he's right in the center of the control room focusing on only one thing, his main prize: Type Zero.
"Mr. Scannell, we'll have the transponder signal for Isla Verde ready in just a few minutes, but in the meantime umm… coffee and doughnuts for your appetite?"
"No thank you. My appetite is coming up soon." Scannell said.
"That diamond must be worth a fortune."
He didn't bother to respond or even look at his workers; his eyes were concentrated on only the giant monitor screen to await the results he expects. It was a black screen that visualized displays of data rotation, shifting, timestamps, and the location of the team he sent to find Type Zero. He then began to point his fingers at two men, one slim with a Californian surfer look and the other a tub of lard with a bald head, heavy glasses, and mustache whiskers, in control of the screen. "Stuart! Flanagan! Begin bird bouncing!
"Yes, sir!" both men said. Bird bouncing was a term coined back in the 70's by Teletech companies to describe satellites locking onto any position in the world.
"Signal key… password mark… carrier fix! We should begin shortly Mr. Scannell!"
Dawn descended upon the murky fogs of the jungle, waking every organism that inhabits it, with the exception of the guarding porters and Cogan. Like his current boss, Cogan was also an insomniac. When he was in SBS, he was trained to be fully awake for a couple of days, and from that point on, he could sleep for a total of 8 hours per week. It was vital if you were going to be in this profession. He heard the expedition beginning to wake up, with yawning everywhere and lights coming from the tents, for very soon they'll hit the city. As long as Scannell doesn't find out about the delay, we'll be fine.
BEEP… BEEP… BEEP… BEEP… BEEP… BEEP… BEEP… BEEP.
Oh shit…
While the porters were curious at the sound, Cogan got to the bags quickly and took out a cell phone-sized device that included transmissions from thousands of miles away, and a GPS tracker built with an infrared radar system that can detect incoming movement. Also, he quickly took out equipment needed to construct the steadicam, a camera-stabilizing mount that mechanically isolates itself from the operator's movement. It allows for a smooth shot, even when moving quickly over an uneven surface. As Cogan finished strapping on the steadicam, he quickly typed a passcode on the device, allowing TechCorp to track them, and their response was CORLOK? It means they asked him if the rare Type Zero diamond was located. He drew a short, but long breath. Why now? Why in the bloody hell did he have to do it now?! He's not going to like this. I look ridiculous with this stuff.
Back at TechCorp, Scannell was looking at the screen to see if he had his result, with Stuart commencing the countdown. "Okay Mr. Scannell the response should be in…
5…
4…
3…
2…
1…
NOLOK.
Jesus Christ. Flanagan dropped his donut with his body trembling. The atmosphere of the room was tense now, with all eyes, frightened, now turning to the CEO, who had his face down. This was not the response he wanted. He then turned his head up to the screen. "Stuart! Flanagan! Get the broadcast ready!" Both men immediately got to work on bringing the live feed up and ready, for one slow pause would give a look of contempt from Scannell. The feed was finally set, and from the screen, a sweaty and not in the best of mood Cogan came up.
"Good morning, Cogan!" Scannell exclaimed in a jovial tone. "Glad to see you're still in one piece. You know, I would've met you in person, but… security these days, you know how it is." Cogan could tell that his employer was just hiding something behind that deceptive smile and tone, but he didn't speak. "Tell me Cogan or John, can I call you John? Okay then, how's life John?"
"Cut the bullshit, Scannell. Life is shit around this place and the only the reason I came here was to pay the bills. Now what are you on about, we haven't made our descent into the city yet!"
Scannell's smile was still there, but now with smug. "I made clear, explicit instructions for your mission. I drop you into San Lorenzo a few days ago, and by today I expected Type Zero!"
"If you'd given me a support team, then I would've gotten this job done quicker!" Cogan shouted.
Scannell couldn't be bothered with any of Cogan's pleads for another team. "Time is money, Cogan! You can go ahead and complain all you want, but at the end of the day you have not brought me my diamond! I am scheduled to have a meeting with the stockbrokers later today or else I terminate your paycheck!" And with that, Cogan's screen went blank.
"SCANNELL! That son of a bitch." He muttered.
As Cogan continued to mutter, the expedition got up and prepared some breakfast. One member, Hoss, was heading to "the little boy's room" in the woods while he told another member, Zimmer, to stand by in case he got lost. When breakfast was almost over, Cogan immediately ordered everyone to begin packing for they'll be entering the city soon. "Let's go! Pack up people, we strike the city now!"
Zimmer didn't expect Hoss to last this long. It was almost time to get moving. Overhead, the howler monkeys howled in the trees, shaking the branches. He was now irrirated, but just as he was going to shout his name, something struck him lightly in the chest. He turned back to the woods. Hoss must be doing a stupid prank.
"Hoss… Hoss quit fooling around and come on; we got to get moving man! Hoss!"
He didn't look at the first object that hit him, but when another came at him, he saw dark red on his white clean t-shirt, and what he thought at first… looked like a very red fruit. He bent down picked up the fruit, and his eyes were now wide-eyed. This wasn't a fruit; it was an eyeball with all its innards squashed right out! He then looked at the other object… and it was another eye! He then felt a presence behind him that was bigger than Hoss and when he turned around, it was the final time he saw anything… but his last scream quickly alerted the camp.
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!
Cogan grabbed his GPS tracker and detected several anomalies coming from the jungle. What was once a firm no-nonsense stone of a man was now ingested with fear and horror as he saw the executives being disemboweled one by one from those… things. He, along with the porters quickly grabbed weapons to fight off the threat, with the latter branding AK-47s, and the former mounting a Colt M4 Commando. The rest, like sheep whose irises saw wolves, scattered in chaos by running from the open space and into the jungle, with their fates coming to a horrific end. The porters weren't faring much better either, as one by one, each are getting sliced and diced by the threat.
It looked more like a small museum rather than an office, filled with sealed encasements of rare diamonds on each side of the walls, and a red carpet that led to Scannell's Roman wood desk. It was also soundproofed as evident by foamy grey pyramids that formed the walls and ceiling. He was on the phone talking to various companies for possible deals once he had Type Zero in his hands. Or so he thinks, as a buzzer was heard on his desk.
"Oh for Christ sake's, i'm going to have to put you on hold." He typed in his computer to unlock the door. It opened and it was Flanagan who was breathing so loud and heavily he almost was ready to faint. "All right this better be goddamn important!"
"Sir, the team…" he panted excessively "…they're gone!"
"You mean to tell me the entire team has just disappeared off the map?!"
"Not all of them, we do have Cogan's position tracked down."
"Well what are you standing around there for? Put him in my database and get back to work!"
Flanagan scuffled back to the control room quickly. As soon as the door shut, Scannell activated the com line on his computer.
TECHCORP COMMUNICATIONS LINK PROCESSING
00000000000000000000000000000000000
00000000000000000000000000000000000
COGAN ONLINE NOW:
The screen came up and it revealed to be a severely injured Cogan with his body drenched in blood as he was laying his head on a log.
"Scannell, I-I need support down here now! We've got hostiles around the area! Look at the men…" Cogan said as he moved the steadicam in 360 degree fashion as bodies were shown around the campsite. It was as if the space became a human meat grinder.
"That's rather unfortunate John, but do you not have the diamond like I asked before?" He said as if the crew was nothing but an afterthought to him.
"Scannell, my crew is gone and you're worried about yer bloody diamond?! For god's sake, listen to what you're saying… you're not even sounding like a human being!"
"I'll be human later… NOW DID YOU GET MY DIAMOND?!"
"DIAMOND?! HAVE YOU SEEN WHAT THOSE THINGS DID TO MY BLOODY DAMN CREW?! YOU CONNIVING, COLD-HEARTED BASTARD!" he shouted to Scannell with vicious hatred of the man through the screen.
"Look, if all of them had families, then I wouldn't have been as unforgiving. But look at the bright side, your crew was the closest anyone has gotten to the ruins. Unfortunately, that isn't good enough over here seeing you don't have my DIAMOND!" He ended the sentenced with his right fist slamming his desk. After his steam blew off, he sat comfortably and looked to the screen with his cold face to Cogan.
"Besides, aren't you a bastard yourself? After all, you work in a profession that murders hundreds and hundreds of people every day with no moral conscience allowed to exist in your soul. Hey look, I'm with you pal, I don't give a goddamn shit about a moral conscience. Hell, I'd be with ya on Bloody Sunday shootin' em up. We'd have a great time together and having a beer over it the next day."
He was laughing so hard that it was beginning to unnerve Cogan.
"But we're not buddies John Cogan. At the end of the day… at the end of the GODDAMN day… you have not found Type Zero. You and your crew have not followed company protocol. You are EXCREMENT to me. I've asked you before to find Miles and Stella Shortman, and that when you found them you were to put bullets in their heads. Okay, I understand the pay wasn't good enough, but you should've known that when you signed for this one you were to come back WITH Type Zero… well tough shit with your crew! YOU FAILED! It's been a real pleasure working with you, John… even if it only lasted a few minutes."
"Wait! What are you doing?!"
"Turning my computer off, these things do need some rest you know."
"What about these goddamn monsters here?!"
"You woke them up Cogan… … … deal with it."
"Scannell… SCANNNELLLLLLLLLLL!"
With a touch, Scannell shut down the core link, leaving Cogan alone in the jungle.
His head lied on a log with his bones broken and his body drenched in blood from the corpses of the porters… all while a ravenous swarm surrounds him. This was it for him… he was a paid contractor hired to do dirty work, but now he was having second thoughts on his life. He remembered the Bloody Sunday shootings back in 1972. He remembers fondly of the aftermath where he walked alone at night in an alleyway and a gang of Irishmen surrounded him and then proceeded to beat him up with venomous hate from that fateful event. Even though he was severely injured, he lived thanks to the police breaking it up.
Right now this was exactly like that situation, but with no police. The swarm was surrounding him. Before his last breath, he gave a chuckle as he remembered one talent he had as a child.
Davy Crockett was always a bloody good screamer. Time to join him.
And he screamed.
A/N: Now remember kids, if you ever get into this profession, remember three words: WATCH YOUR BACK. Please review guys! :)