Not a member?     Existing members login below:
Holidays Offer
 

Black Opal

A small, quiet banging, muffled. He raised his head to the bottom
sill, and slid a hand up the side, feeling for the switch, he
knew was somewhere here. He couldn't find it. Moving to the side,
he cautiously stood up, and put his arm inside. The rain stopped,
and he cursed inwardly. He would lose the cover of noise. Some
frogs started up a rapid croaking.
His fingers slid over the industrial switch. With the revolver
pointed at the opening, and his heart pumping so loud, he felt it
must give him away, he started to pull down on the toggle.
Pain. A violent push on his shoulders, and he was forced on to
the window ledge, winding him. His finger, on the trigger, lost
control, and a loud explosion followed. The flash only added to
his spinning head. A cry from inside the darkness of the room, as
small sinewy hands grabbed his shoulders and yanked him
backwards and into the mud. A light appeared, then others, off to his
right. Yelling. Next minute, the opening was framed by a black
shape, that crouched there, momentarily like an ape, framed for
an exhibition. Then a sound behind him, and he instinctively
rolled, as a heavy object hit the ground where he was only a
split second ago. Voices growing louder.
The shape jumped, stumbled, but quickly regained it's stance. One
arm was hanging down and the other, he couldn't see it in the
dark.
Then the sound of running feet, and he was left alone. Water
seeped into his clothes, and his ears, and his ribs ached. A
torch shone into his face, and he screwed up his eyes, against
the intrusion.
"You alright?" A gruff voice he couldn't place.
"Think so." Then a hand grabbing his, and pulling him upright.
"What happened? Saw the tail end of somebody disappearing into
the jungle."
The voice took on a familiar tone, and Rory Mason struggled to
his feet, one hand on his chest. The other should have held a
weapon, but didn't. Matt had a torch in one hand, and a machete‚
in the other.
Someone materialised from the bushes behind him. It was Spikey,
the other worker at the site. "Gone. Never catch him in this."
His cockney accent sounding out of place, in the surrounding
darkness, as it competed with a chorus of frogs and insects and
Remove