Welcome to Percotran -Part XIV

By Richard Davidson

Alexander’s mind was reeling. He’d been thrust God only knows how many years into the future; found himself in some kind of corporate Hell; was chased by security; abducted and very nearly killed by Pirates; and was now wrapped in leaves that smelled horrible.

Not only that, but he had headphones on, and strange clicking and whistling noises, similar to those made by his newest captors, or benefactors, or whatever, had been played non-stop for a week.

“Where am I?” he asked the tall man standing nearby.

“You’re in Oanahuana Mi, of course,” the man stated very clearly.

Alexander was amazed. How was it possible that this man spoke English?

“How long have I been here?” he asked.

“I’d say about three weeks.”

“I was in a fish trap.”

“I know.”

“Yes, I suppose you would.”

Alexander needed to absorb all this.

“He’s awake!” called the tall man out the door, and a striking young woman walked through.

“And how’s our patient doing?” she asked, sweetly.

“I’m doing very well,” announced Alexander, and a smile appeared on her face.

“The tapes are working,” she said to the tall man.

“Yeah, that’s great,” he answered, wishing he were somewhere else.

“All right, fine, go,” she said, her smile replaced by a look of annoyance.

“What’s working, the tape with all the clicking sounds?” Alexander asked.

“Well yes, that’s right,” she answered, and now she was the one who was confused.

“Didn’t you wonder how you could talk to us?”

“So that’s it,” thought Alexander. “I’m speaking their language!”

“Wow, that’s really amazing!” Alexander chirped and whistled.

“Not really,” she answered, looking bored. “Our children learn it at 3 months.”

“Oh,” was all Alexander could think of.

The two sat down on Alexander’s bed, and he told her what he could of his story, and his origins. She said most of that had to be some kind of nonsense, and she did her best to fill him in on the Bahini, and their Shaman’s vision.

They talked for quite awhile, and suddenly Alexander found he was quite tired.

“I’m not surprised,” she said. “You were very near to death when we found you. You’ve been through alot, of that I’m sure. You will rest now.”

She tenderly placed a blanket over Alexander, and for a moment he thought she might kiss him on the cheek and tuck him in.

“You wish,” she said, reading his mind just a little.

Alexander’s face flushed red with embarrassment. She laughed, and blew him a kiss as she walked away.

“She’s a very nice lady,” Alexander thought to himself, as he drifted off to sleep.

He dreamt that he was back in his own time, playing pinball with a couple of friends from work, and drinking Scotch. It was going great. He’d just gotten the high score again, and Wendy Jackson was waiting for a dance.

The ball drained, a siren went off on the machine, and for a moment, all eyes were upon him. He used that to his advantage, as he walked smoothly over to Wendy, and tenderly took her arm.

They danced like lovers do, awash in the glow of such a sweet moment, and Alexander was getting lost in the music, and the smell of her hair. It was a perfect dream, until the Pirates walked in the door, killing customers, and that surly bartender who asked them “what the hell they think they‘re doing.”

“Killing bartenders, for starters,” said one of them, ramming a sword clear through him.

Those who understood either yelped, or ran out the back door, but most of the bar’s patrons were as lost in the moment as Alexander had been seconds ago.

But not now. To his surprise, he drew an enormous sword, and strode forcefully towards the leader.

“You picked a bad night to raid this bar,” Alexander stated boldly.

“Really?” said the amused Pirate, “and just what’s so bad about it?”

“This!” shouted Alexander, thrusting his sword towards him, and missing.

Suddenly the thought occurred to Alexander that these Pirates were going to make him into hamburger, as he and the leader broke into a fierce swordfight.

Alexander was like a ballet dancer, leaping on tables, walking on walls, and displaying a level of swordsmanship that was truly beautiful. The Pirate Leader was every bit as talented, but with just a little more flair. Alexander was holding his own, but he was tiring, and the other Pirates were standing there watching, each one with a murderous look in their eyes.

Suddenly, the Pirates were screaming, as chunks of their flesh were ripped away by tiny explosions beneath their skin, spraying the bar, and its patrons, many of whom were suffering the same fate.

“Take him,” shouted a soldier in blue body armor, just as Alexander saw part of his forearm explode, and he woke up shaking, and feeling his limbs, caressing them fitfully as he came to the realization it was only a dream.

It had been light when he fell asleep, but it was pitch black now. Alexander could hear animal sounds, but they didn’t sound like any kind of animal he was familiar with. Of course, he reasoned, he hadn’t been to any tropical islands before, so it could just be exotic birds; except for that one thing with the loud, low growl that was getting closer.

“I wonder how big and heavy you have to be to snap bamboo,” Alexander thought, nervously, as the sound of snapping bamboo became louder.

Whatever it was, it was bearing down on the hut Alexander was recovering in, and there didn’t seem to be anybody else there with him, or outside guarding him. He was quite sure he didn’t like that.

“Screw this,” he thought, and jumped out the window. He started running in the opposite direction of the loud crashing and growling, which seemed like the logical thing to do.

The leaves that had been stuck on his body for far too long were dropping off as he ran, and he realized he was now running through the jungle naked, with some kind of huge beast chasing him.

He was running as fast as he could, given his present condition, and he was already tired, and the crashing was getting closer. It was now so loud that it was almost deafening; a roar of primitive fury that was giving Alexander the inspiration to find one more level of speed.

It felt as though his heart would soon burst. He felt the hot breath of something on his neck, and for a second, he thought it DID burst, and lo and behold there was yet another level of speed for him to find.

For the gazillionth time since they’d sent him down to that basement, Alexander had no doubt in his mind that he was going to die. He seemed to be running deeper and deeper into the jungle, which was steadily growing thicker.

He was being whipped and cut by branches, and the terrain was becoming more and more uphill. Alexander didn’t even slow down when suddenly there was no ground beneath him at all.

He was flying all right, as he had just ran right off a cliff, but at least whatever had been chasing him had stopped there, at the edge.

Now he would be dashed to pieces on some big, jagged rocks, or even better, would survive the fall, only to be eaten by a giant shark, or a giant goldfish, or whatever.

And in those brief seconds he was in the air, he got a look at something that was looking back at him from the edge of the cliff.

It was no animal, and it wasn’t even very big.

It was the Shaman.

“That’s great,” thought Alexander, as he plummeted through the fresh night air, “this guy’s some kind of shapeshifter. Well, now I’ve really lived.”

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