At The Sign of The Screaming Monkey's Head
At The Sign of The Screaming Monkey's Head
Episode 5 - One lay dreaming
What has gone before
Kindly Bob and Sylk need answers. Fred is recounting two dreams that are unrelated. They need to know why. They induce a sleep state with a combination of a black steaming concoction and skillful mental manipulation, splitting the brain function to open up pathways and possibilities. They hide Fred in a room, and return to the main tavern. A bit is revealed about each, and they talk of their concerns for the coming days. They prepare the tavern for the morning breakfast, and Sylk departs as the first waitress arrives. Meanwhile, Fred is dreaming…
Barney and the others stood at the edge of the jungle on a small beach on a river. They had been readying canoes. A large bird of prey flew into Barney's field of vision, moving fast, and straight as an arrow toward a hazy structure in the distance. Barney watched in amazement as the bird shrank and shrank and finally vanished long before nearing the complex. He realized the structure was even more massive than he suspected, and that they were still a long ways off. He assumed the complex was their destination. He turned and saw their guide watching in the direction of the bird for several more minutes, irritation and maybe disgust on his face. He looked at the others, and said in that softly accented English, “Come. We are seen.”
Now on the river, the natives and other members of the expedition plied their paddles with increased urgency, making amazing progress down the river. Barney realized they were flowing with the river, and the river itself seemed to be picking up speed. For the first time, their diminutive guide seemed concerned, if not exactly worried, and he exhorted them to even more speed.
Abruptly, he whistled a staccato melody, and the three canoes veered sharply toward the left bank just as a cove came into view. They hurtled to shore without slowing, and drove well up onto the beach. The shock of hitting land knocked Barney headlong into shallow water, striking his head on unforgiving sand. Momentarily dazed, he struggled to his feet, shaking his head and checking for injuries. All sense that he was having a directed dream drizzled away from his consciousness.
Barking orders in that odd pseudo-English he used with the natives, their guide had them hastily flood the canoes, and sink them in the cove. They had to be ballasted with some stone to overcome their natural buoyancy; the guide's strident tone evinced his dismay at the delay. Finally, some standing reeds were subtly intertwined, indicating in some way, Barney supposed, where they could be found.
It was then that Barney heard another incongruous sound, and realized their guide must have heard it long before. They melted into the dense verdant jungle as some remaining natives covered their tracks, returning the cove to the pristine state they had just violated.
Once inside the screen of the jungle, they halted and grew silent. The noise was louder now, and Barney recognized, but could not name, the sound. One of the Europeans gasped as two inflatable attack boats burst into view and roared past them. All the Europeans were wide eyed. The boats carried five men apiece, one of whom manned a mounted something that just oozed danger. As they disappeared down the river, the guide snorted and turned to Barney. In his faintly accented English he said, "We probably could have stayed on the shore and waved at them, as observant as they are. We, however, will continue to take precautions."
Barney just looked at him, or rather, just over him, trying to remember what they were doing there, and wondering why those boats seemed familiar. And that noise! He thought about asking, but the guide had already turned away, and was preparing for jungle travel.
“No machetes,” he said. “The sign can be seen from the air.” “From the air?” thought Barney. “By what, birds?” The guide spoke again in that other language, and the natives began loading up. “What’s going to see us from the air?” Then he remembered those boats, and how they used no paddles, and the noise. And the bird flying fast and straight. Shouldering his pack, he joined the group as they began their overland trip, feeling a sense of déjà vu.
All that day they traversed the jungle, stopping once for water, once for a quick lunch of hard biscuits and some sort of pulpy, almost tasteless fruit, and once again in the afternoon for water. Barney could not tell how far they had traveled. The jungle gave up no secrets, and he had no frame of reference. They were traveling in a muted green world, lit from without by the unseen sun, filtered and scattered so completely they barely cast a shadow. At times on their path the foliage thinned and their guide took long detours around those areas. Twice they heard the sounds of the boats, once coming back toward them, the motors gunning and forcing the boats upstream. Then later, very slowly, now near, now far. Barney imagined they were crisscrossing the river, drifting with the current. He was certain he knew who they were searching for, and the other Europeans were tense, hunched over as they made their way, as if expecting attack.
The little guide however, had merely walked along, not paying any attention. Barney realized that they were following the river downstream. He watched the guide for awhile, wondering how he could find his way, and keep so close to the river. There did not seem to be any visual or auditory clues other than the boats which he hadn’t heard in a while. As he watched the relaxed gait of the guide, he followed suit, and let the tension flow from his shoulders, consequently, he was not nearly as tense and irritable as the Europeans when they finally halted.
Barney thought it odd they had stopped so early. It seemed that they had hours of daylight remaining, and he wondered why they did not press on. No one asked his opinion however, and everyone sprang into action, setting up little hammocks, and camouflaging them with some kind of netting. Barney was led to a hammock by one of the other natives and was handed some kind of vegetable. It had a hard purple rind that nevertheless peeled easily, once started. He realized that it was dinner, so he sat in his hammock eating dutifully and considering the netting. It was a material he did not know. Fiber and maybe some metalized plastic? As he looked it over, he saw that it was joined to the ground with a copper stake. Just as the natives finished setting up camp, if it could really be called ‘camp’, night fell like a hammer. Barney then realized why they had stopped when they did, and he felt his way into a prone position in his hammock. The camouflage acted as a barrier to insects as well, for which he was grateful. He tried peering through the netting, looking for any glimpse of stars or moon. Nothing. The canopy overhead seemed impenetrable, and Barney wondered why the insistence on what he assumed to be camouflage. He could not even see his hand in front of his face. He nibbled on the remainder of his foodstuff, and then the day’s exertions took over and he fell asleep without realizing.
Barney woke with a start. He listened intently to the nocturnal noises emitted by the various night living denizens, and then became aware that the little guide was standing next to his hammock. He could just discern his outline, and two faint glows where his eyes would be. Evidently, the pupils were wide open, and they reflected what little gathered light they could.
“Come,” he said in that pleasant soft English. “You need to see this. Quietly though.” Barney rolled out of his hammock and trod closely behind his guide, trying to match his noiseless passage. When they had walked for about 10 minutes, the guide stopped and addressed Barney in a normal tone of voice, unconcerned that it would be heard, “I presume you have come for this, though I know not your intent. Look!” He parted some bushes. With a sharp intake of breath, Barney stumbled and almost fell.
They were on a rise overlooking a valley. Standing in stark relief against the night sky was a fantastic pyramidal structure. Emanating from its apex was a blinding beam of light, blazing skyward. “Yes!” Barney exclaimed, his memory returning.
The guide hit him over the head, and hoisted his inert body over his shoulder.
Fred came instantly awake and preternaturally alert. Gone was his hesitation and trepidation. Released from compulsion, he shed the Fred overlay, and rose silently…
Next episode, Sylk and Kindly Bob contend with not-Fred. And some visitors.