Ch. 35 – Alika
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Warning: This chapter contains gory violence and implied sexual actions that might be triggering for some readers.

 

Wailing and screaming filled the air, mingling with the smell of burning wood and blood.

A group of native women sat huddled in the middle of the village, traditional attire torn revealing their breasts. All around them lay the bodies of their men, ravaged by the foreigners Voice and weapons. Some sobbed openly while others tried to console them, tears mingling with spittle and dripping mucus. A few lay motionless, legs splayed as blood pooled beneath them. The other women had tried to cover them but were beaten by their captors.

A young, fair-skinned foreigner stood watch over the women. His green eyes blankly watched over them as he waited impatiently for his shift to end. He was tired of having to listen to the savages cry. His simple grey collared shirt was stained with sweat as the tropical heat continued to beat down on him.

He took a swig from his flask and noticed some of the savage women eyeing it. Just to confirm, he took a second swig and watched as their eyes thirstily followed.

Smirking he held it out to the closest woman.

“Here, try some.” He motioned the open flask to the woman, doing his best impression of a charitable donor. Obviously the savages wouldn’t understand their superior language but they would definitely understand motions.

He crouched and waited for her to scoot closer, still holding the flask out. She hesitantly looked at one of the other women, who slowly shook her head.

“Don’t worry. Just try some.” His voice took on his best approximation of a soothing tone. He wasn’t used to speaking in that manner, it was unnecessary for someone of his station.

The wide-eyed woman slowly shifted herself forward, unwilling and unable to stand. She feared that standing would lead to another beating. As she drew closer the man stood back to his full height and glared down at her. She was within arms length and horror dawned as she realized her error.

“Stupid savage!” He sneered as he swiftly kicked the woman in the ribs. She let out a gasp of pain as she doubled over, clutching her aching side.

“How stupid are you people?” He chuckled as he stomped down on the woman’s unguarded head. The other women raised their voices in protest as a few of the braver ones shot up and tried to run to her defense. Before they could take a few steps the man had drawn his pistol and trained it on them.

“Down!” He waved the pistol at the ground. “Down I said!”

The women who had stood immediately fell to a sitting position, crying and speaking their native tongue. All of them continued motioning vigorously to the woman under his boot and making what seemed like pleading motions.

Just because, he fired off a shot in the general direction of the group. All of the women let out shrieks of fear as they cowered away from the loud bang. One of the women let out a prolonged moan of pain as she collapsed.

“Ah shit!” He said as he took his boot off his current prey. Walking over, he noticed the fresh blood that rapidly stained the ground around the woman. All the women around her lay still, hands covering their heads as they shivered.

The woman lay on her side as she clutched her enlarged stomach. Blood flowed freely, leaking from beneath her hand and from between her legs. The man coldly nudged her shaking limbs apart as he sucked his teeth.

“Fuck, stupid bitch,” He mumbled as he reloaded his pistol. The woman continued to bleed out, where the bullet had hit was covered by her tattered apparel. She moaned in pain as her sun-kissed skin took on a sickly pallor. In her pain she cried out a name, tears streaming down and staining the red dirt underneath.

Without a pause the man turned his pistol on the woman and shot her in the face. The bullet tore through her soft skin as blood and bone splattered across the nearby women.

All of them let out wails of fear but remained prone, arms shaking as they covered their heads.

The man spat on the woman as he walked away, her fresh blood adding to the collection that was already pooled on the ground.

He returned to the other woman and nudged her face with his boot. “Up! All of you, up!”

The women all sat up again, only recognizing the foreign word due to its frequent use in the past bunch of hours. The woman he had kicked was still struggling with trying to sit up when he vehemently kicked her near shoulder, toppling her away from him.

“Get up you stupid bitch!”

Painfully, the woman pushed herself up, trying to drag herself away from her aggressor. Her body moved involuntarily, not wanting to listen to her commands as she stumbled, having a hard time steadying herself. Blood trickled out of both nostrils, coating her lips in a macabre lipstick.

One of the other women reached out to help steady and guide her. They softly pulled her in and lay her head in their lap.

The foreigner clicked his tongue in dissatisfaction as his gaze returned to the motionless body of the woman he had shot. All the other women had shifted away from her, fearing that they could be the next to be put down.

He took out his flask once more and took another long swig.

---

When his replacement finally arrived they had dragged the woman’s corpse away from the group. It was less out of consideration for the women and more to keep the foreigner out of trouble with the higher ups.

He handed his pistol over before walking away, ambling down towards where their group had pitched camp.

Over a low campfire a pot of infinite stew was going, bubbling and boiling as the savory contents gave off an interesting smell. The man walked over and shoveled himself a healthy portion into a wooden bowl.

He pulled out his flask and tossed it at one of the porters who was busy running an errand for the group cook.

“Refill it. Make it quick.” He took a seat under one of the tents that were set up as a makeshift mess hall and took to working on his meal.

It tasted like a steaming hot bowl of savory shit but he continued to wolf it down, barely taking time to taste it. These past months had made it easier for him to eat anything. Hell, he was pretty sure he’d try roasted native if the cook ever decided to do that.

The porter returned with his flask, refilled with the only bits of home he had to savor on this long trip.

As he ate, he reflected on how unlucky he felt for having gotten stuck on guard duty. The rest of the group was out raiding a nearby village and here he was, stuck watching the savages, twiddling his thumbs in boredom.

A bare-bones team had been left behind and all of them were getting antsy. They didn’t like the tropical heat and they definitely didn’t like being left behind in a savage village with barely any guns between them.

Other than himself and the replacement, the other two combatants were out on a patrol and the rest of the camp was made up of the cook and two porters.

He didn’t like that the higher ups hadn’t moved the savages closer. It made no sense to him, what good did it do if they were so far from them and couldn’t react in time? Plus, the amount of armaments were limited and that irked him even more.

The other porter walked by and he reached out and grabbed the young man’s shoulder.

“Go to my tent. Wait for me there.” He took a long swig from his flask as he kept an eye on the shapely young man.

“The cook has some errands for me, sir.” The young man avoided meeting the man's eyes, keeping his gaze set on his feet as he tried to keep the fear out of his voice.

“What was that?” The man’s tone hardened as he turned his head. “I told you to do something, right?”

The boy nodded meekly as he retreated and started walking towards the man's tent. His legs wobbled nervously as he fought the tears that pooled at the corners of his eyes. The boy entered the tent and stood off to a corner, waiting.

---

The man stirred groggily as a strange scent hit his nostrils.

He burped loudly as he sat up, fighting the urge to regurgitate his hastily consumed meal. A lamp flickered in the corner, momentarily blinding him as he walked out. The cold, far off moon stared down at the darkened camp, doing nothing about the hazy heat that hung over the area. Squinting, he looked around, noticing that the campfire had been snuffed out.

Letting his eyes adjust, he swept his gaze across the quiet, dark camp and noticed a large silhouette standing by the mess hall tent. The mass was huge, easily towering over him even at a distance. Pupils finally dilating enough for him to make out simple shapes in the gloom, a rusty, tangy smell hit his nostrils.

Blood.

He flinched as the strong stench of entrails and ichor invaded his sense of smell. He held a hand over his mouth and nose as his dilating eyes settled, giving him a slightly better view of the camp than before.

Under the dim, silver glow offered by the moon he could just make out the sight of a torso laying next to the doused campfire. His groggy, still drunk mind kicked into gear, clinking and clanking as he tried to connect what was going on. Waves of heat and stink drifted off of it.

It was missing the head and had been cleanly ripped at the hips. On the other side of the fire was the lower half, ripped in two and used as a makeshift, macabre stand. Sitting on each knee were the heads of his comrade and the cook with wooden stakes driven through them to keep them upright.

The man stumbled forward, blustering as he continued to try to make sense of the scene.

Bleary eyes swept around, looking for purchase in the darkened camp as something tickled in his mind. There had been a huge, monstrous figure. But it was nowhere to be seen as he turned his head.

Looking back at the totem made out of his comrades, surprise sent shrill warnings ringing through his body as a soft, calm voice issued from directly in front of him. The gigantic mass cast a dark, silvery shadow over him. A low thrumming filled the air as an odd, intricate pattern glowed in the dark, adding to the silvery stare from above.

“Ah, you are the one. Thank you for coming.” Large, powerful fingers curled around the mans head as he felt a pressure pushing down on him. He collapsed under the force, knees buckling with a pop as they slammed into the hard, dirt ground. His teeth chattered, mouth agape as he was pushed down, and he bit the tip of his tongue.

“Thank you for taking care of my village,” the large mass continued in its quiet voice. “I will reward you for your kindness.”

Dirt filled his mouth as his head was pushed into the ground, mingling with the blood leaking from his tongue.

“We will start with the fingers.” A quick pop and the man’s muffled screams. Wet squelching as his pinky was torn out of its socket, flesh ripping and tearing as he screamed and spat. He thrashed in vain and pain as the powerful mass held him tightly in place.

Agony ruled his mind as he gagged on the bloodied mud ball that threatened to choke him. His head lulled momentarily before a clarity rushed through his body. The pain in his hand throbbed once then dulled as he returned to cognizance.

“You will be aware for all of this.” The mass said as its large fingers encircled another exposed appendage. “You must be rewarded properly.”

The man screamed out again as the pain shook his world once more.

The lonely silver moon bore witness, finally giving way to the glorious light of the sun as dawn broke, bathing the camp in its yellow-orange glow. It shined and illuminated the huge mass, revealing it to be a scantily clad native. He was covered in markings, intricate designs running up and down his massive body.

The foreigner lay beneath him, body twisted and malformed from the long night of award winning. Blood, sweat, vomit, and feces coagulated around his twisted form. He whimpered, unable to eke out anymore tears, as the large man sat on his haunches. Their eyes locked and he found himself unable to look away from the terrifying depths that burned in the monster's gaze.

“My name is Alika,” the large native’s voice rumbled with power. “And I will reward each and every one of you.”

The large man smiled, wide and menacing.

________________________________________

‘Ekolu released Talua’s face from his large grasp.

The newest Tu’i kept an impassive face as they made eye contact with the large Tu’i.

They quietly nodded at one another before the large man stood and excused himself.

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