Silas: A Supernatural Thriller (26 page)

As long as he was here, I knew nothing could touch me.

39

At the precipice where one land met another I stood with my hand on my chin and stared. We’d followed the base of the mountain, circling around a cracked, dangerous landscape until we reached the other side. It was a harrowing experience, complete with shaky footing, sharp cliffs, and a snaking gully bordering the rise at least a hundred feet deep. I shuffled on the edge of this gully with my back pressed to the mountain’s soft, prickly rock, trying to keep my balance with twenty pounds of supplies hanging off my back. Whenever I found myself teetering toward the brink of falling in, Silas would circle around and steady me with his large frame.

“Like I said, boy,” I muttered between gasps, “where would I be without you?”

When we reached the other side, the afternoon sun reemerged from its sheath of clouds to greet us, illuminating the Wasteland beyond.

It was as if the mountain acted as a dividing line. Before me was a vast jungle that stretched as far as I could see. The horizon line was marked by a thick wall of haze. Unlike by the ocean’s edge, the humidity here was so complete that water filled my lungs each time I took a breath.

What struck me the most, though, was that while the other side of the mountain lived up to its name,
Deadland
, this side teemed with life. I heard insect sounds and what could’ve been monkey calls. Birds – at least I thought they were birds, since they were mere black specks in the distance – soared above the canopy. Every so often I’d see one of the dots drop through the tops of the trees and rocky cliffs, presumably after spotting something tasty to eat. I felt the way the early explorers must have when first opening their eyes to the Amazon – dumbfounded and filled with awe.

Rocks tumbled down the mountainside behind me and I wheeled around. Silas did the same, yelping. That sneaking sensation of being watched crept up my spine once more, but I laughed it off. Just like every other time I’d felt it there was nothing to be seen, just rolling pebbles knocked loose by our clumsy feet.
Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not trying to get you
, my mind warned. I tried not to listen.

I turned my gaze back to the waiting jungle. In a far-away expanse, a plume of smoke rose. It was as ominous a sign as I’d ever seen. “Must be the locals,” I muttered, and Silas dug his paws into the dirt. “Guess we’ll go around them, then.”

With a hard swallow to collect my strength, I started down the knoll. The closer we got to the tree line the louder the sounds of nature became. By the time we reached the barrier it was a deafening orchestra of rubbing legs, chirping throats, and scurrying bodies. There seemed to be something almost erotic about the noise, as if all life had thrown itself into a wild, sexual frenzy.
Come to me
, the clatter supplicated,
we only want to live, to seduce you, have you, take you.
The primitiveness of these thoughts caused me to shiver, and I thought of Wendy. Yes, there
was
something seductive about it…but something even more seductive waited back home.

Silas barked, his tail wagging furiously.

“Yeah, thanks,” I replied. “It’s good to know you’re in charge.”

I picked up my feet and stepped over the threshold. The jungle enveloped us.

40

We pushed through the muddle of vegetation with caution. Thick, wet leaves slapped my face and my feet kept getting stuck in twisted clumps of vines. The noises around us reached a crescendo that stung my eardrums. It hurt so much that I could only wonder how Silas dealt with it.

Bear it he did, though, and then some; he acted like the racket didn’t bother him in the slightest, constantly moving forward with his nose to the ground, taking the time to piss on a tree trunk, sample some moss, or happen a quick glimpse in my direction. He moved with such single-minded confidence that I allowed him to take the lead, which was good for me seeing as I had no clue where we were going.

My foot caught beneath an arched root and I slipped. I reached up, flailing for whatever I could get my hands on to stay upright. My fingers wrapped around a slick vine. Though my hands slipped a bit, the greasy cylinder held strong and allowed me to find my footing. Breathing a sigh of relief, I released the vine and bent over, trying to slow my heart rate.

Silas let loose a primal howl. I jumped back, startled. Just as I did so a huge, colorful object that looked like a partitioned lampshade fastened to a rippling green membrane fell from above, striking the ground where I’d stood only a second before. I froze as the thing shuddered a moment, before gradually lifting itself up and turning to face me.

The thing I thought to be a lampshade was actually a wreath of leathery, serrated petals. Each petal sported a different color – deep purple on one side to an almost luminescent yellow on the other, with the entire spectrum of the color wheel in between. The petals formed a funnel, and from the middle of this cone appeared an eyeless, nose-less, teardrop-shaped head. It was at least two feet wide and dark green, the color of the vines. The head split in the middle as if on a hinge, revealing a set of dull brown teeth that looked like sharpened stones. It was the perfect jungle assassin, waiting high above for some unsuspecting schlep like myself to grab hold of its long, plant-like body. A lengthy green tongue materialized from between its teeth and licked the air. The head swung from side to side, led by that tongue, until the rows of sharp teeth snapped at me.

I felt a sharp pain in my butt and my body was yanked backward just as the thing lurched. I stumbled, struck my knee against a knotted root, and screamed. Silas, his teeth firmly implanted in my ass, let out a frustrated growl.

I turned around in time to see the tree-creature coming at us, its cylindrical body descending from the tree, foot by rubbery foot. As it approached, slithering across the jungle floor with the dexterity of a sea serpent, the tail end lagged behind, gliding over the branch supporting its weight. There seemed to be no end to the thing, and while I continued to back away, hoping to reach a safe distance, it occurred to me that no place was far enough. The monster would follow me, continuing its circuitous advance on its mile-long belly, until I made one fatal mistake.

Then, that mistake happened.

I tripped on the underbrush again and stumbled. My left hip smacked a tree, joining my right knee in mutual throbbing pain. I dropped to the ground, feeling the decayed earth saturate the rear end of my Paul Nicely jeans. My hands, held straight out to ease my fall, sunk into the muck. A disgusting stickiness inched over my wrists and up my forearm. My stomach wretched, as much from disgust as fear.

My pursuer hovered over me like a giant, multihued cobra. It widened its jaws, exposing those sharp teeth, and then snapped. A stream of malodorous saliva shot from its roiling tongue and struck the side of my face. The liquid stung my flesh and possessed the familiar, stomach-turning scent of maggots. I collapsed, shrieked, and yanked my hands from the slime with a wet
pop
, holding them in front of me in the hope that I could catch the thing when it attacked.

The creature reared back in preparation for the fatal strike. Just then a blur streaked from the left. It dashed across my vision, struck the monster at full speed, and they both vanished beneath the thick ground cover. A series of low, aggressive snarls accompanied the sounds of a struggle.

I rolled over, propped myself up on all fours, and panted. I inched forward and peered through the foliage. A few short feet away, two savage beasts were locked in a mêlée. One was Silas, black fur standing on end and lips peeled back to expose his many teeth. My boy hopped around the vine-snake, deftly avoiding its snapping jaws while simultaneously ripping into its hide when the eyeless head zoomed past. The creature’s fibrous skin was cleaved away in mouth-sized patches, revealing the pulsating blue, green, and red muscle tissue beneath. The vine-snake let out a hiss and lunged again, this time missing Silas by more than a yard. My fearless protector took the opportunity to strike once more, leaping onto the creature and burying his teeth into the joint where head met body. A stream of reddish-brown fluid erupted from the wound. Silas stayed on the offensive, violently jerking the thing from side to side in an act of primal aggression I’d never thought him capable of. The vine-snake, clearly dying, wrapped itself in knots, trying without success to pry away from Silas’s death-grip. The thrashing slowed with each passing moment until finally, with a shudder, the colorful head dropped to the ground and fell still.

I stood up, knee and hip throbbing, and approached the scene. Silas stood there, hunched over, his teeth still clamped down, his body trembling. He seemed afraid to loosen his grip. I went to him cautiously; the last thing I wanted to do was startle him, and have his newfound hostility turned on me.

I should’ve known better than to fear him, for as soon as I neared, his body relaxed. He let go of the creature’s neck, straightened out, and shook his barrel frame the way he would after a dip in the lake. Droplets of blood and saliva rained from his head and upper torso. He then stopped, licked his paw, and looked up at me. His tongue popped out of his mouth and that comical doggy grin came over his face. He hopped up and down on his front paws, bouncing atop the slain carcass. I got on one knee and put my hand out, allowing him to rub his head against my palm. It felt like he’d gotten into a fight with Silly Putty, but I didn’t care. The whole experience was surreal, as if to him the violence was so far in the past that it didn’t matter any more. He was Silas again, my faithful companion and only friend in the world. Despite the layer of glop covering him, I bent over and kissed his nose.

“I love you, boy,” I said, fighting back tears.

*
  
*
  
*

Silas and I sat for a few minutes while I calmed down. When my tears waned I glanced at the dead thing and grabbed Silas by his dangling jowls.

“What do you say we check this guy out?” I asked. “I’m kinda curious.”

He agreed.

Already the leathery green flesh covering our assailant had begun to fade, becoming a dull shade of tan. Bubbles popped on its hide, releasing noxious gasses. Small bumps squirmed beneath its skin, and I imagined tiny parasites burrowing in, rushing off to devour any palatable matter before the heat and humidity spoiled it.
It’s like a nature show played at a thousand times normal speed
, I thought. The notion made sense in a nonsensical sort of way, especially considering everything I’d seen and experienced over the last three days. though there was no way I could justify it logically.

I patted my leg and Silas followed me as I traced the creature’s rapidly decomposing body. Its tubular structure was only a half-foot wide, at most, a form that went against everything I knew of physics. Something so narrow shouldn’t have been able to support a head the size of a horse’s.

Its length seemed to go on forever. As we followed it, I was amazed at how far backward I’d retreated. What I originally thought to be only few steps was actually close to fifty yards. When we reached the tree from which the thing had first attacked I glanced up to see part of the carcass wedged in a crook between two branches. It wrapped around the tree trunk and fell to the other side. I placed my hand on the tree and peered around it, seeing that the tail finally ended in what looked like a hand with suckers for fingers. There was a bulge in its form, and whatever it had been stretched the skin to the point of virtual transparency. I made out the shape of a head and shoulders, knees and feet. A humanoid form, nothing but skin and bones now, close to being evicted from its devourer’s body. I swallowed hard and glanced at Silas, who stared back at me, blithely unaware.

“You wouldn’t happen to know what this means, would you?” I asked.

He panted.

“Didn’t think so.”

I swallowed hard and turned around. There was nothing I wanted more than to get away from the quickly moldering carcass. It was simply too strange, too otherworldly, for me to accept. So I did the next best thing. I whistled and put one foot in front of the other, trying to get the image out of my mind.

It worked so well, I didn’t even mind that I was whistling Art Lonnigan.