Chapter 11: Claws of the Cat
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Actually, we float down the river for a while. I would prefer a canoe, but all we have is the old wooden launch from the riverboat. Slow going without an outboard motor, but even rowing the wide boat is faster then walking. We're just lucky the pirates didn't have time to so more damage.
"Damn" , Jones mutters. "Rocks ahead."
I turn to look. He's right. Row boats are not made for white water. Problem. There's still a lot of river travel in front of us, so I don't want to lose the boat just yet.
"Portage?", Jones offers.
"If we have to." I look at the steep banks. Not an easy walk. "The water looks slow. If you keep it steady I think I can push us past."
I hand him the oars and ease over the side of the boat. I was right. The water is barely waist deep. We are in more danger of running aground then of being rushed downstream. As long as I can keep the boat off of the rocks, we should manage.
We are almost back into open water when I feel the tug on my leg.
I have half a second to breath before the massive clamp tightens and pulls me under. Thank god for the suit. Even through kevlar the teeth feel like driven nails.
The water is dark with algae. Even a few inches down the light vanishes. Without my grip on the boat I lose all sense of direction. No matter, the only place we are going together is down. I can't risk the taser with Jones still in the boat. I reach for the knife. Throat is best. Lucky I know where that is. Just below my ankle. The shallow water makes it difficult to maneuver. Come on, Izod, roll me over!
My lungs are aching by the time he does so. My first strike falls short. Slashes, but not deep enough. Just enough to annoy him. Good thing is he lets go for a minute, I push to the surface and grab another breath. Then he's on me again, aiming for an arm. Can't let him get that. Even through the armor he could brake a bone. Higher on the hip is better for me. This time I hit the throat solidly and with force.
"Stay in the boat!" I shout.
There's blood in the water. That will bring predators. Already I can see the reptiles comrades approaching to feast on their fallen companion. Now I'm grateful for the rocks. I climb up one to access the damage. My leg is intact, but the bruises should be spectacular.
"Move down the river." I call towards the boat. "I will catch up with you." I have no energy left to guard a civilian.
Jones ignores me. Using one oar as a punting pole, he maneuvers the boat with inches of my rock. Holding out the handle of the whip, he calls out to me. "Roll into the boat. I can keep it steady."
In this water? I doubt it, but I check it out.
He can.
Starting hands first, I roll into the deck, landing on my back. Not the most spectacular gymnastic maneuver, but the wisest. I land centered and barely rock the boat. My shirt is in rags, but that is immaterial. The suit is intact, and that is what matters.
"Interesting long-johns you've got there." He makes it a question.
"Steelworks out of Metropolis." I long ago learned it is best to answer such questions - as long as the answer doesn't answer the question.
"Looks tough."
"Great thermals - it helps with the heat." Which is true, as far as that goes. Heat, cold, wet - my skin temperature will stay at 95 degrees. There is a reason why everyone wears these things. And despite what O'Brien says, it *isn't* a cape fetish. The plain blacks aren't as protective as the full bat-suit, but it's a bit more flexible and a *lot* less identifiable. If the bad guys haven't made me yet, why give them a clue?
I rub my leg and the conversation drops. No real damage. Just the lactic acid burn of exercise. I'll take that as a lesson. Slack back for six days and you feel it. Sensation is returning, but.... one hour to the start of a long hike.
I let him row a while.
It's just short of that hour before we come to the next set of rocks. This time the white water is rough enough to frighten an Arkansas lawyer. Satellite maps shows a waterfall just past the bend.
I sit up. "Well, Dr. Jones? Are you ready for a hike?"
^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)
It's late afternoon when Jones calls for a break. Reasonable. I could go on, but he is a civilian - and less equipped. I am still checking out the ground, hoping for a clean rock without excess vermin, when he pulls a knife and starts hacking at one of the trees. Within seconds, he is back with what looks like a cluster of very short bananas.
He pulls one off and tosses it to me. "Lunch, Mr. Wayne."
"Are you sure?" I look at the green and black length suspiciously. "I have rations." And I don't know if that greenery is eatable. Form what I've studied, most of this beautiful growth is as toxic as Isley.
"I do know this area." From his smirk, I get the message that he understands my questions - and finds them amusing. That's the problem with hiring a competent guide. They think they know more then you do - just because they do.
I decide to trust him. The fruit is delicious. Sweet and surprisingly juicy. It both fills my stomach and reduces my thirst. Excellent, as clean water may be in very short supply once we go through what we are carrying. Of course, by then I expect to have Dick and Dinah back, and very likely be on a fast path out of this overgrown weed-patch. If that means calling in favors - so be it.
By the time I am finished with the second bunch, Jones is picking up his hat. i assume that means he is ready to go again.
^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)
This is the deep forest. Except for a thick mulch of fallen leaves, the jungle floor is surprisingly clear. Without cutting, little light reaches the ground to sustain the smaller brush. Most life, plant and animal, is up in the canopy. It's an easy hike, as such things go.
Oracle tracks us on her geological map. Satellite positioning is very accurate. Too bad it makes no allowance for geology. It takes us all day to come within ten miles of Dick and Dinah's transponder signals. That is about as accurate as the system can get. Normally it's quite close enough. In this case? I look at the unrevealing walls of solid green. In this case I'm realizing just how far even one mile can be.
Barbara promises to link with Whitehorse and the JLA, and get me a better fix. That is good, but not good enough. We will have to wait on the orbits - and the light is failing.
^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)
Night in the jungle. Not a fun place to be. Even with satellite guidance it will be to risky to move. Starlight lenses are all but useless under the canopy. We have lights, but they are nothing against the deep darkness of the jungle night.
We have reached the location where Oracle has placed their transponders. That means we are within a quarter mile of our quarry. We might as well be back at the river.
I examine the rock wall. There must be a plateau up there, as we are next to a waterfall. I could climb it, but Dr. Jones...? Not without more equipment than we have. I could leave him here and return for him after I free the crew, but to operate without the local language increases the risk to the hostages. Without interrogation, I could miss some of them.
Is their a path? I move along the escarpment, checking for shadows that might indicate a path. I've traveled perhaps three hundred feet when I hear the snarl.
Shadow. Moving. For all the talk of jaguars, this is the first I've seen. They are bigger then expected - or this is just a large specimen. The branch it stands on lies between me and Jones. I move in carefully. No sign that it's seen me, but so far I have the time to be careful. I can't see the eyes, but from the ears it must be tracking Jones. Shout a warning? No! His pistol would be ineffective against a beast this size. Only a perfect shot could take it down.
I am almost to it. Perhaps if I come from above, then....To late. As if sensing it's own danger, the cat leaps. Huge and powerful, it lands on the unprepared human below it, curved claws slashing in its flight. My companion vanished beneath it's bulk.
No time to be subtle. I fling the knife for distraction. No damage, but the pain makes it turn. Shoot the D-Cell. The impact knocks the cat back, and the elastic lines tangle around it's flailing limbs. That buys time. Can I get Jones out? Can he move?
*Poppbang*. One clean skull shot. The spotted body falls in a heap of fur and polymer.
Dr. Jones rolls over, reholstering his pistol as he stands. He must be in shock. No one should move with such injuries. I get a view of his shoulders, bearing deep slashes below the scarlet ruins of his shirt. I grab the med-kit, knowing it is inadequate, but hoping it will suffice until Oracle can send rescue. "Stay down! I can.."
He ignores my assistance. "Don't worry, Mr. Wayne. I'll heal."
I reach down. The wounds of the claws are healing as I watch.
"You are ....meta?" I nearly growl. This was *not* in Oracles report.
"Not exactly", he answers, brushing away my hand.
I think back to the incident by the river, and the arc of fire that I had witnessed. At the time I had dismissed my own vision, but... "The gunner..." ,I start carefully, "did not miss...."
Jones has the grace to look embarrassed. "It sort of a long story but.... yeh." He shakes the leaves from his Fedora and places it firmly back on his head.
"I have time for long stories."
He gives me a long look, assessing his chances of passing off some lie. I glare back the answer - none. He must be convinced, because.....
"Ever heard of the Holy Grail..?"
What! The adrenaline surge is enough to shake me. Is that what he is after? How could he know?
"That is a subject I will *not* discuss." The bat-voice covers the fear.
"Sure." Jones turns away and straightens his collar. "Fine with me." Interesting. He seems almost relived.
I drop the now useless cell shooters and stuff the med-kit back in my pack. "Let's get moving."
"Let's not."
I turn as he smiles, knocking aside vines with the handle of his whip. In the narrow beam I catch the patterns of deep-carved stone.
Jones points to the narrow patch of black that marks an opening in the rock. "This is our way in. This is the Door of Itzamana."
END CHAPTER ELEVEN
Thanks again to Nikoru-chan. Because of her, I am posting another chapter. :-)
^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)
Actually, we float down the river for a while. I would prefer a canoe, but all we have is the old wooden launch from the riverboat. Slow going without an outboard motor, but even rowing the wide boat is faster then walking. We're just lucky the pirates didn't have time to so more damage.
"Damn" , Jones mutters. "Rocks ahead."
I turn to look. He's right. Row boats are not made for white water. Problem. There's still a lot of river travel in front of us, so I don't want to lose the boat just yet.
"Portage?", Jones offers.
"If we have to." I look at the steep banks. Not an easy walk. "The water looks slow. If you keep it steady I think I can push us past."
I hand him the oars and ease over the side of the boat. I was right. The water is barely waist deep. We are in more danger of running aground then of being rushed downstream. As long as I can keep the boat off of the rocks, we should manage.
We are almost back into open water when I feel the tug on my leg.
I have half a second to breath before the massive clamp tightens and pulls me under. Thank god for the suit. Even through kevlar the teeth feel like driven nails.
The water is dark with algae. Even a few inches down the light vanishes. Without my grip on the boat I lose all sense of direction. No matter, the only place we are going together is down. I can't risk the taser with Jones still in the boat. I reach for the knife. Throat is best. Lucky I know where that is. Just below my ankle. The shallow water makes it difficult to maneuver. Come on, Izod, roll me over!
My lungs are aching by the time he does so. My first strike falls short. Slashes, but not deep enough. Just enough to annoy him. Good thing is he lets go for a minute, I push to the surface and grab another breath. Then he's on me again, aiming for an arm. Can't let him get that. Even through the armor he could brake a bone. Higher on the hip is better for me. This time I hit the throat solidly and with force.
"Stay in the boat!" I shout.
There's blood in the water. That will bring predators. Already I can see the reptiles comrades approaching to feast on their fallen companion. Now I'm grateful for the rocks. I climb up one to access the damage. My leg is intact, but the bruises should be spectacular.
"Move down the river." I call towards the boat. "I will catch up with you." I have no energy left to guard a civilian.
Jones ignores me. Using one oar as a punting pole, he maneuvers the boat with inches of my rock. Holding out the handle of the whip, he calls out to me. "Roll into the boat. I can keep it steady."
In this water? I doubt it, but I check it out.
He can.
Starting hands first, I roll into the deck, landing on my back. Not the most spectacular gymnastic maneuver, but the wisest. I land centered and barely rock the boat. My shirt is in rags, but that is immaterial. The suit is intact, and that is what matters.
"Interesting long-johns you've got there." He makes it a question.
"Steelworks out of Metropolis." I long ago learned it is best to answer such questions - as long as the answer doesn't answer the question.
"Looks tough."
"Great thermals - it helps with the heat." Which is true, as far as that goes. Heat, cold, wet - my skin temperature will stay at 95 degrees. There is a reason why everyone wears these things. And despite what O'Brien says, it *isn't* a cape fetish. The plain blacks aren't as protective as the full bat-suit, but it's a bit more flexible and a *lot* less identifiable. If the bad guys haven't made me yet, why give them a clue?
I rub my leg and the conversation drops. No real damage. Just the lactic acid burn of exercise. I'll take that as a lesson. Slack back for six days and you feel it. Sensation is returning, but.... one hour to the start of a long hike.
I let him row a while.
It's just short of that hour before we come to the next set of rocks. This time the white water is rough enough to frighten an Arkansas lawyer. Satellite maps shows a waterfall just past the bend.
I sit up. "Well, Dr. Jones? Are you ready for a hike?"
^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)
It's late afternoon when Jones calls for a break. Reasonable. I could go on, but he is a civilian - and less equipped. I am still checking out the ground, hoping for a clean rock without excess vermin, when he pulls a knife and starts hacking at one of the trees. Within seconds, he is back with what looks like a cluster of very short bananas.
He pulls one off and tosses it to me. "Lunch, Mr. Wayne."
"Are you sure?" I look at the green and black length suspiciously. "I have rations." And I don't know if that greenery is eatable. Form what I've studied, most of this beautiful growth is as toxic as Isley.
"I do know this area." From his smirk, I get the message that he understands my questions - and finds them amusing. That's the problem with hiring a competent guide. They think they know more then you do - just because they do.
I decide to trust him. The fruit is delicious. Sweet and surprisingly juicy. It both fills my stomach and reduces my thirst. Excellent, as clean water may be in very short supply once we go through what we are carrying. Of course, by then I expect to have Dick and Dinah back, and very likely be on a fast path out of this overgrown weed-patch. If that means calling in favors - so be it.
By the time I am finished with the second bunch, Jones is picking up his hat. i assume that means he is ready to go again.
^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)
This is the deep forest. Except for a thick mulch of fallen leaves, the jungle floor is surprisingly clear. Without cutting, little light reaches the ground to sustain the smaller brush. Most life, plant and animal, is up in the canopy. It's an easy hike, as such things go.
Oracle tracks us on her geological map. Satellite positioning is very accurate. Too bad it makes no allowance for geology. It takes us all day to come within ten miles of Dick and Dinah's transponder signals. That is about as accurate as the system can get. Normally it's quite close enough. In this case? I look at the unrevealing walls of solid green. In this case I'm realizing just how far even one mile can be.
Barbara promises to link with Whitehorse and the JLA, and get me a better fix. That is good, but not good enough. We will have to wait on the orbits - and the light is failing.
^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)
Night in the jungle. Not a fun place to be. Even with satellite guidance it will be to risky to move. Starlight lenses are all but useless under the canopy. We have lights, but they are nothing against the deep darkness of the jungle night.
We have reached the location where Oracle has placed their transponders. That means we are within a quarter mile of our quarry. We might as well be back at the river.
I examine the rock wall. There must be a plateau up there, as we are next to a waterfall. I could climb it, but Dr. Jones...? Not without more equipment than we have. I could leave him here and return for him after I free the crew, but to operate without the local language increases the risk to the hostages. Without interrogation, I could miss some of them.
Is their a path? I move along the escarpment, checking for shadows that might indicate a path. I've traveled perhaps three hundred feet when I hear the snarl.
Shadow. Moving. For all the talk of jaguars, this is the first I've seen. They are bigger then expected - or this is just a large specimen. The branch it stands on lies between me and Jones. I move in carefully. No sign that it's seen me, but so far I have the time to be careful. I can't see the eyes, but from the ears it must be tracking Jones. Shout a warning? No! His pistol would be ineffective against a beast this size. Only a perfect shot could take it down.
I am almost to it. Perhaps if I come from above, then....To late. As if sensing it's own danger, the cat leaps. Huge and powerful, it lands on the unprepared human below it, curved claws slashing in its flight. My companion vanished beneath it's bulk.
No time to be subtle. I fling the knife for distraction. No damage, but the pain makes it turn. Shoot the D-Cell. The impact knocks the cat back, and the elastic lines tangle around it's flailing limbs. That buys time. Can I get Jones out? Can he move?
*Poppbang*. One clean skull shot. The spotted body falls in a heap of fur and polymer.
Dr. Jones rolls over, reholstering his pistol as he stands. He must be in shock. No one should move with such injuries. I get a view of his shoulders, bearing deep slashes below the scarlet ruins of his shirt. I grab the med-kit, knowing it is inadequate, but hoping it will suffice until Oracle can send rescue. "Stay down! I can.."
He ignores my assistance. "Don't worry, Mr. Wayne. I'll heal."
I reach down. The wounds of the claws are healing as I watch.
"You are ....meta?" I nearly growl. This was *not* in Oracles report.
"Not exactly", he answers, brushing away my hand.
I think back to the incident by the river, and the arc of fire that I had witnessed. At the time I had dismissed my own vision, but... "The gunner..." ,I start carefully, "did not miss...."
Jones has the grace to look embarrassed. "It sort of a long story but.... yeh." He shakes the leaves from his Fedora and places it firmly back on his head.
"I have time for long stories."
He gives me a long look, assessing his chances of passing off some lie. I glare back the answer - none. He must be convinced, because.....
"Ever heard of the Holy Grail..?"
What! The adrenaline surge is enough to shake me. Is that what he is after? How could he know?
"That is a subject I will *not* discuss." The bat-voice covers the fear.
"Sure." Jones turns away and straightens his collar. "Fine with me." Interesting. He seems almost relived.
I drop the now useless cell shooters and stuff the med-kit back in my pack. "Let's get moving."
"Let's not."
I turn as he smiles, knocking aside vines with the handle of his whip. In the narrow beam I catch the patterns of deep-carved stone.
Jones points to the narrow patch of black that marks an opening in the rock. "This is our way in. This is the Door of Itzamana."
END CHAPTER ELEVEN
Thanks again to Nikoru-chan. Because of her, I am posting another chapter. :-)