It was late last evening and we all slept soundly, having become used to the jungle heat and noise, when we heard it - a rustling that stirred our more paranoid members from slumber. I believe it was Muuzaji who first heard it, followed by Clayton, because they are the ones who awoke me.
"Doc, get up," Clayton whispered as I groggily stirred in my hammock. "There's someone there... sounds too human..."
Then I heard the noise, too, like a man in the underbrush. It came towards our camp, and my mind immediately conjured the worst of possibilities. Had the cult caught on to us and send an assassin? Had one of the lunatics from the plane been stalking us? Or, worse yet, perhaps Tandoor Singh had escaped jail, and now sought revenge upon us...
"Schiße," I swore under my breath, gripping my handgun. I sleep with it now often, for I have been ambushed one too many times and was not keen on it happening again. "Have you woken the others?"
"Enala and Sarah are keeping watch," responded Muuzaji, "And McCloud is keeping an eye out for danger. We must investigate this..."
She was right, of course, so off we went into the darkness beyond our wan campfire light. Nothing jumped out at us, nothing seemed awry... until we were caught in the glare of a torch, and found ourselves shortly thereafter staring down the barrel of an elephant gun! I must admit, I jumped, as did the others, but then the hunter stood down, and we saw who had given us such a scare. He was a tall, blond, and somewhat sleepless-looking gentleman in safari fatigues and pith helmet, his bright blue eyes bearing a look of instinctive surprise and... something else. I could tell, without even diagnosing the man, that he had the mark of an unstable mind, more than that provoked by the mere thrill of the hunt.
"Oh, my apologies! I am so sorry!" the man responded brightly, his lilting accent betraying Welsh ancestry. "I thought you were a lion, or perhaps another tree... Do forgive me!"
"It is alright, we were shocked as well," I said, choosing my words carefully. "We have... been through a few things, and we assumed you were something coming towards our camp. I am Dr. Hildebrand; these are my colleagues. A pleasure to meet a fellow traveler so far out."
I extended a hand in greeting, but the man did not take it. Instead, he burst into a wide grin, and responded in kind.
"Another man of science!" he cried ecstatically, leaning in eagerly. "How exciting! I am a botanist myself... Dr. Harrison Chase, premiere plant biologist for Oxford University. Perhaps you have heard of me? I am here studying the baobab trees native to the area. I have just found the most intriguing specimen... and I intend to bring it back to England, perhaps transplant the tree if possible. It is very... unique."
His eyes glimmered madly, and I realized this was not only a man of passionate interest in botany, but also had seen something truly extraordinary. I could tell, and so, I think, could Clayton and Muuzaji - he had seen something akin to what we had seen, and it had afflicted his mind... in other words, his instability and manic behavior betrayed a familiarity with the other, and that instantly made him dangerous.
"I'm sure it is," probed Clayton, eyes scanning the man. "Can we perhaps take a look at it? We're amateur botanists ourselves..."
"No no no, absolutely not!" Dr. Chase shook his head wildly in disagreement, nervous. "There's too much... sensitive equipment you might knock over in the area! Yes, that's it, isn't it? Besides... it was my finding, I will not have a group of ragtag ruffians steal my discovery of the Screaming Baobab subspecies from me!"
"Screaming Baobab?" Muuzaji parroted in confusion. "Trees do not scream, sir... I have grown up in this region and know of no such thing..."
"Oh, of course a porter wouldn't have," replied Chase, and I could feel Muuzaji's ire raise at the statement. "It's scarcely known to science! Why, I can hear it wailing and shrieking even now, and my God! When I found it, how it moved, transplanted itself it did! Right before my eyes... Nearly killed me when it saw me, but I got it with a nice shot, I did, and it's been sitting there screaming ever since... Well, I must be going, chaps, but it was a pleasure to meet you! I shall endeavor to remain away from your camp, if you will agree to remain away from mine! Farewell!"
With that, the Botanist left, and I could see the matching looks of knowing in the others' eyes. We had to investigate this, it all seemed too convenient. What on earth had Dr. Chase found, and what would happen if he did transplant it to England? There was only one option - to rouse the others and be sure all was well nearby - and that is precisely what we did, gathering the group and spreading out to find this mysterious "Screaming Baobab" the doctor was guarding.
We did not have far to go before we did. It did for all intents and purposes look like a baobab tree, as Muuzaji pointed out - squat, limbs up to the sky, bulbous and settled down in the small clearing. However, there were enough differences to be very disconcerting, enough to question if it really was a plant. There were no leaves on it, despite the wet season being in full effect, and the roots could not be traced to under the earth. The bark was a strange and rubbery-gnarled black, rather than soft greyish-tan as we had seen before. Most conspicuous was the greenish-black sap that oozed from a gash on the posterior side of the tree from us, a mark that looked conspicuously like someone had shot it with a very large calibre gun.
"This must be it," Enala observed. "It recalls the trees in my homeland, but much larger and darker... no tree should ooze sap that color, it is unnatural..."
As if on cue, the branches rustled, but there was no wind to shake them, and we all grew wary. This was not a good sign, not at all... Only Francis dared to get close enough to try and discern further; eyes searching it for a connection to something he could recognize as he leaned towards a knot in the trunk.
"Fellas, I'm drawing a blank," he said finally, putting a hand on the bark, and that is when the branches shook further, and all of us noticed the knot begin to... twitch. Conspicuously so. We saw Francis back away slowly, a growing dread on his features.
"Uh... I'm no tree expert," he asked nervously, "But is... is that normal?"
We got our answer soon thereafter, and watched in horror as the knot split open vertically until it revealed a large greenish eye like that of a goat. Then more opened on the trunk, and strange toothy maws fissured alongside them. The tree rose quite suddenly then on six hooved legs, wearily, trembling almost imperceptibly as if in pain, and gave a long, mournful bleat as it stared at us, all eyes focused and wary as it stumbled from its wound. This was no tree... it was some sort of horrific, abominable animal. We nearly took up weapon, but then Sarah calmed us, her nerves steely as ever despite the travesty before us.
"This... this isn't related to Him," she said, carefully approaching. "I just had a strange insight... it's something else... it's a baby, I think."
"A baby what?!" Clayton yelled, on edge, and the creature responded by focusing on him. Muuzaji shushed the treasure hunter, motioning for him to keep quiet.
"I believe what she means is that it is not trying to harm us, not yet," elaborated Muuzaji softly. "It appears more injured and afraid than anything... Perhaps it just needs help."
She motioned to step forward and aid the thing, but one of the tendril-branches slammed in front of her in response as the creature moved back. Then we all heard it cry out, not vocally, but in my mind I heard it - a long, howling scream of pain as it stumbled and collapsed back onto the ground, branches curling slightly in agony. Greenish-black sap oozed from the wound, splashing the dirt like oil.
"Careful," I murmured. "Sarah, you are good with the strange animals, ja? You tamed the beetle-ape, perhaps you can tame this... thing?"
"I can try," she said, eying it warily. "Enala, maybe you can help me, are you good with animals?"
The Aborigine nodded, then rose to help Sarah. Slowly, achingly, somehow the two women got close enough to the thing without it startling to approach it, keeping it calm long enough to look at the wound. Once it was subdued, I attempted approach, but Muuzaji stopped me.
"No, it is responding more favorably to the women than the men," she said. "Perhaps it believes we are closer to its mother. Allow me..."
I acquiesced, and relegated myself to providing verbal and medical supply aid, watching as she bandaged the thing's wound. Its oily sap stained the bandages through, then seemed to almost absorb and graft them onto its skin. Her hands were coated with it, and though she washed it off, a strange look began to come over her, a look almost of... lust for the thing, perhaps?
"I... feel unwell," she moaned, blushing, and took to her tent shortly thereafter. Being curious of course, I carefully took a sample for further study. Perhaps the sap of this thing is a sort of aphrodisiac, or may have other properties? Certainly it is a most unique compound...
In any case, she had the right idea - we should have left the creature alone to heal, so we did so, collecting the still trembling Francis so he might heal his mental scars. All was going according to plan until we ran into Dr. Chase again. I say ran into, because he found us next to the tree, and yelled something about us stealing his work as he pointed his elephant gun at us. This did not set well with the creature, which brayed angrily and stood up, charging him weakly as he ran. I do not know what became of either of them, and do not want to know, but the creature was gone the next morning.
Muuzaji is doing well now, and refuses to speak of what was going through her head last night after the thing bled on her. I will not pressure her, for a woman's secrets must be her own, and such things are imprudent of me to ask besides. I will say that Francis remained recovering in my tent, where I could keep close watch on his condition, and that he too seems to be recovering. He is mentally fragile, however, and I greatly fear that too much more shock will be his undoing. He believes our exercise is futile, and while a part of me agrees, I must by Hippocratic Oath ensure he is well until the end. He is my patient now, and it is my duty to help him. But who, I wonder, will help us when we are in need?
-- Dr. Ludwig Hildebrand, First Do No Harm (15 September, 1928)
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The jungle, like the Outback, is dangerous and filled with living things that may do one harm, but there are worse things yet than that, as we have discovered.
After the incident with the Walking Tree, we were wary. There was a low-level fear in the camp the entire day, though nothing seemed to do anything to harm us. The one seemingly odd thing that did occur was an encounter with many flies, spiraling in midair with futility. I had seen such behavior in ants and termites before, an unceasing wheeling for no reason, but never with flies. Such a thing always ended in their deaths; we call it the Death Circle in my tribe, and it is a terrible omen of grave danger. I did not point this out to the others, but it remained in my mind until we made camp, a feeling I could not shake away. Something bad was going to happen before the day was finished, something we could not avoid, and it would bring with it more terrible things...
It was very late at night and we all slept when we heard the awful noise, like a ghost shrieking. I woke startled, as did Ludwig in his own sleeping bag nearby, his face slicked with sweat from more than just the jungle heat.
"Mein Gott," he murmured, eyes flicking about nervously. "Do you hear that, Enala? It sounds like the shrieking of the damned!"
"Yes, I know," I replied, shivering, and peeking out of the tent to see the others awakening and leaving their tents, weapons ready, as well. The noise came from everywhere, and increased in intensity more and more, greater and greater, until it seemed constant. There was something coming. Many of them, whatever they were. We stood, cautious, observing and wary... and that is when the ambush happened.
From all sides, they came, twelve or more scarred African men in bizarre red head-dresses, the kind we had seen on the cultists before. All wielded weapons, some a large blade like a machete, and others spears - and all wore a strange whistle resembling some sort of hideous creature with a long red tongue. There was no mistaking what they were, and we had no choice but to fight for our lives or die as they closed in like the shrieking madmen they were.
It was a battle so intense, I barely comprehended it. Bullets flew, blades clashed, and blood was shed. I do not know how we managed their attack so well, but when Sarah screamed at myself and the others to look away, we did as asked... and the result was something from nightmare, the sound of shrieking and flesh tearing, then nothing. I could not help but look, curiosity gripping me, and I saw the thing... the summoned creature, standing in the midst of the remains of men, coated in blood and feasting like a beast on their entrails... It shimmered and wavered, something like an insect-kangaroo, mandibles clicking softly as Sarah murmured to it gently like one would a pet dog.
Horror gripped me, and I knew no more until I awoke in the tent once again, the others filled with grave concern. They told me they thought I had collapsed and died from fear, and Sarah was profusely apologizing. She said the thing was named Shelly, and was a friend of hers who had saved our lives. This I understand - there are many strange beings in this world, and many of them have frightening power. Who am I to decide what a man or woman befriends, if it is on our side?
The others had driven the cultists off or killed them, and all around were strewn bodies, but none cleaned them or touched them, as if they were cursed. This disturbs me greatly. I have taken these horrors and trials far better than my friends, it seems, for they are growing used to killing and to death. They are nothing like when I first met them months ago, their minds shattered. I question the ancestors and the gods, is this truly my calling? Can I hope to aid such doomed men and women, such mentally fractured people? Gods help me, am I becoming as they are? Perhaps this was Sand-Bat's plan all along...
We have no time to waste on doubt. The others have captured a cultist, and obtained information concerning a village nearby. I do not dare ask how they obtained this knowledge from an unwilling cultist, but he is dead now. We will travel to this village tomorrow, leaving the death behind us, and hopefully finding respite.
We are not far from this Mountain of the Black Wind; I can feel its darkness calling to me as it looms in the skyline beyond. A few more days, and we will reach it. But what, dare I ask, is it we will find there? What spawn of evil will be unleashed if we do not find it in time?
-- Enala Mahwah, Gravely Concerned (September 16th, 1928)