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Jungle Struck, part three

Malcolm began, "You are wondering why I pulled you away from the group? I would wonder too. You are dire to our operation, as you are the only one that knows how to stop the nukes planned to launch, you HAVE to keep yourself alive. Do you understand me?"
"Yessir" They exchanged the formalities and left, each slightly worried about the situation and what was going to happen to them...

The next days went by at a frantic rate, each man except for Chuck doing everything in their power to figure out a way to get off the island. Chuck was still incapacitated, seemingly insane. He would mumble things, incessant things, that seemed to make no sense. Malcolm finally stuffed an old sock in his mouth to keep him quite, but it did nothing, the convict would still hum his words through the sock. The three sane men decided it would be best to ignore him from now on...and not to worry about the outcome of the man. Chuck was gone.

The next day, Malcolm, Brandon and Greg went for recon in the jungle. Each would carry a weapon, just in case something were to happen. They discovered the true beauty of their surroundings. A secluded pool lay about two miles north of the crash site and a waterfall connected it to a large powerful river. The glade was connected to many tributaries that gave it a spider-webby look from above. The water was luke-warm, perfect for bathing and fishing. As it happens, many exotic birds and mammals lived near the poor, as it was a reliable water source for this part of the jungle. Malcolm spoke first, "How fun would it be to jump from the waterfall to the glade?"
As soon as he spoke Greg and Brandon made a run for the cliff. It was easy to climb for it had many hand holds and ledges. It took less then a minute to scale. Greg reached the top first and with a kowaabungi leaped from the tip of an overhang into the crystal clear water. As he surface he yelled, "Come on!!! The water is amazing, and the fish aren't slightly afraid of us!" Malcolm and Brandon followed suit and they enjoyed their time in the glade, splashing each other and trying to catch the fish. As Greg climbed out of the water, he cut the palm of his hand on a sharp rock and swore loudly. He told his friends that he would be going to the crash to bandage it and disappeared into the foilage.
When Malcolm and Brandon were exhausted and bored with the glade, they returned to the crash, to find Greg moaning and curled in a ball clutching his gut. Neither person could figure out what was wrong with him. They figured it was food poisoning and that he would be fine in the morning, so they slept and aggreed to attend to him in the morning, if the sickness lasted that long.

In the morning, when all three men awoke, Greg was fine, with nothing more then a scar on his palm. He told Malcolm, "Man I was sooooo sick last night, I don't know what I ate..."
"I wouldn't worry to much, it was probably just your body getting used to the new surroundings and types of food, possibly an alergic reaction. What ever it was, I'd be careful if I was you. You don't want to have an outbreak like that again, especially if the next one proves fatal."
"Yessir"

to be continued




Short story by Painful Profits
Read 805 times
Written on 2006-05-10 at 01:35

Tags Pain  Fun  Exciting 

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liz munro The PoetBay support member heart!
when's the next chaper of this mindblowing book?
liz
2006-05-22