Chapter 2: In the Jungle's Shadow
Marbo sank into the fetid swamp waters, concealed amidst massive fungus-encrusted cycad roots. Viscera from past kills clung to the gnarled bark, attracting clouds of buzzing insects. The stench of decay hung heavy, masking his scent from prey. Shafts of hazy light pierced the soupy black water, revealing bones piled beneath the tangled mangrove vines.
Voices echoed over the still waters as an enemy patrol emerged along the game trail. They spoke in hushed tones, weapons raised warily. But to Marbo their presence may as well have been a blaring klaxon. Stealth was impossible for these foreign interlopers. He sank deeper until the foul water enveloped him fully.
The patrol fanned out along the narrow trail, trudging through the primordial soup of mud and bones. They sought clues to a rumored resistance cell hidden deep within the trackless jungle. But they were clueless lambs stumbling toward inevitable slaughter. Marbo almost pitied them. Almost.
This place was no accident. Marbo had chosen the ambush point with care after tracking the patrol patterns for days. A narrow span of trail flanked by the acidic swamp on one side and a sheer limestone cliff face on the other. No escape.
As the patrol reached the halfway point, Marbo exploded from the swamp like a breaching serpent. The first soldier had no chance to cry out as Marbo's iron fist hammered into his trachea with a sickening crunch, pulverizing the delicate tissues and cartilage. A gurgling wail escaped the dying man along with bloody sputum as he clawed helplessly at his mangled throat. Beady eyes bulged in terror before rolling back as he sank into swamp's smothering embrace.
Pandemonium erupted. Bullets sliced through the soupy black water, dislodging chunks of cycad roots in eruptions of plant matter. But Marbo had already submerged, circling swiftly behind the next target. This one managed a strangled scream as Marbo's blade opened his abdomen from navel to sternum in one vicious motion. Coils of intestine unfurled into the churning water like some grotesque balloon animal.
The remaining patrol members oriented toward the spreading crimson plume and unleashed a barrage of fire, shredding waterlogged roots and vegetation. Gouts of swamp water mixed with blood sprayed into the air. Then silence descended, only the rhythmic lapping of water against the shoreline. They waited with weapons aimed, as if violence alone could ward off the jungle's silent terror.
A dark shape suddenly hurtled from above, splitting one soldier's skull across the unforgiving rocks with a visceral crack. Bits of pulped brain plopped into the water as the body went limp. Before the others could even process this, Marbo was among them. A crimson cyclone of edged death that slashed arteries and spilled entrails into the churning red swamp. It was over in seconds.
As cries gurgled into silence and the last tremors stilled, Marbo sank slowly back into the concealing swamp. The diffuse light seemed to shy away from this haunted place. Soon the scavengers would come to feast and erase all evidence. But the shadow of death still clung here, a warning to those who invaded its domain.
Marbo drifted silently through the tenebrous water, merging seamlessly with the jungle's primordial essence. His work was done, but the hunt never ended. More prey lurked beyond the swamp, oblivious to the slaughter that awaited them. Marbo's smile gleamed red in the dying light. There could be no rest, not while enemies still drew breath. The jungle's appetite was vast and endless.