Mouth of the Cave

Content Warning (click to expand) 

blood, colonialist attitudes and racism, death and violence, gore, guns

 

by J.R. Blanes

Outside the grimy reception office of the Blue Seas Resort, dark clouds bruised the sky while thunder and lightning crackled overhead. Heaving gusts whipped the palm trees into a frenzy and swept umbrellas into their destructive hands. Coconuts dropped on the beach, their hardened shells cracking and spilling milky juice.

The ocean crashed against the shore as the storm kicked the door behind me open, demanding to be let in. I leaped off my feet. Travis wrapped me in his arms and laughed over my sudden fright — though I didn’t find anything funny about it.

“It’s only a storm, Brandon,” he said.

But this wasn’t no ordinary storm. This was a storm like I’d never seen before. A raging storm breathed from Mother Earth’s fury.

Still, the storm didn’t stop Travis from attempting to bribe the concierge into showing us a little fun. It was our last full day on the island of Caye Piedra. The last day before returning to Chicago, to our Gold Coast condo, to the safety of the urban concrete jungle. Already an entire week of excursions — snorkeling the barrier reefs, hiking the trails through the jungles, rock climbing, wrapped by a sailboat cruise — had been canceled due to the intermittent storms. Though I’d never admit it, I was all the happier for it. Now I didn’t have to make any excuses and spoil a good time. I could blame it on the weather.

“It is not my decision, Mr. Donnell,” said the local Makoob in his thick Patwa accent. He wore a flamingo pink polo shirt, Bermuda shorts, and a smile — as advertised by the resort — that conflicted with his harried disposition. “If the tour operators say no, the answer is no.” 

In some ways, I felt sorry for Travis. He’d planned this vacation for months. A vacation to celebrate our recent engagement. The adventure of a lifetime. Of course, I would’ve preferred going somewhere a little less secluded than a remote island in the middle of the Caribbean Sea. Somewhere with theatre and museums and sidewalk cafes. Somewhere with drinkable water and far fewer mosquitos. But I didn’t want to disappoint Travis. He can be a bitch sometimes when he doesn’t get his way.

“Is there a company outside the resort willing to take us? Travis opened his wallet and flashed a gold platinum card. “We’ll pay…whatever.”

The concierge stretched the hem of his shirt until the wrinkles flattened. “We no suggest going outside the resort without a proper guide,” he said.

Travis leaned on the desk. “Why not?”

“Jungle’s not safe,” the concierge whispered. “People go missing.”

I recognized the sudden gleam in Travis’ eye. The same look he got whenever challenged. “I promise we won’t get lost.”

“Worse things than getting lost, Mr. Donnell.”

“Like what? Wild animals?”

“Come on, Travis.” I tugged his sleeve, disturbed by the ominous tone darkening the conversation.

Discouraged, Travis thanked the concierge — for nothing — and banged out the door. I apologized and handed him a generous tip before rushing after.

As I stumbled out into the gloomy day, I bumped into a cute, young guy with a leathery tan and a bushy blonde beard who would’ve knocked me on my ass if he hadn’t caught my sleeve.

“Sorry, didn’t see you there,” I muttered, cheeks reddening. 

“No worries,” the cutie said. “American? Nice to hear a familiar accent.”

“You didn’t happen to see…”

“He’s headed toward the bar. Looks like in a hurry, too.” The cutie pointed across the lot where Travis pushed against the wind, weaving around a smattering of golf carts parked in front of an aluminum tiki shack. “Don’t let him get swept away.” I thanked the stranger for his kindness. “No problem. Maybe I’ll see you around.” He winked, before heading into the office. 

Covering my head with my arms, I rushed into the storm to catch Travis.

•   •   •  

I considered leaving the moment I pushed into the bar. Sand covered every surface, and a fishy odor blew in from the ocean. A boombox played staticky calypso music from its worn speakers. Flies swarmed the place, feasting on the sticky counters. I shooed them away, wishing I’d brought bug spray.

Soon as I took a seat, Travis ordered me a beer from the weathered old-timer behind the bar. I wasn’t in the mood for drinking, but Travis hated drinking alone. The old-timer plopped the beer in front of me, snatched the fiver Travis slid over, and returned to gabbing amiably in his native tongue with a stone-faced woman in a flower dress chopping a sapodilla in half with a machete. I cheered Travis’ glass and gulped a swallow. The yeasty shit tasted warm and flat.

Travis scanned the weather forecast on his phone. “Fucking great! Looks like the storm’s not passing until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest.”

I cuddled Travis’ muscular bicep. “We could order room service, watch TV, snuggle beneath the sheets…”

Travis slipped his arm free. “That’s all we’ve done since we got here. I thought we might do something to make this vacation memorable. Something special.”

“Wow! Since you put it that way,” I lamented, tearing at the soppy label of my beer.

Realizing his mistake, Travis massaged the rock-hard knot in my shoulder. “You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t.”

Travis kissed me softly on the lips. I melted into the tender moment until I noticed out of the corner of my eye the stone-faced woman with the machete glaring at us. “What’s the matter?” Travis asked, as I pulled away, wiping my mouth on my sleeve.

I glanced over to the woman as she spit a seed on the floor. “We should be respectful of the local…culture.”

“Ignore her.” Travis brushed his finger along my cheek. I liked it when he flirted with me. It made me feel wanted. I just preferred if it was in the privacy of our suite.

I snatched Travis’ phone and flipped through Trip Advisor. “Let’s see if I can find us something exciting to do today. Oooo…we could go windsurfing.” A gust rattled the plastic sheet windows.

Travis laughed for the first time all day. Gosh, I adored his smile. The tiny dimples that accentuated the tips of his sensuous mouth.  

The door banged open, drawing everyone’s attention. “Americans!” the cute guy roared, exploding into hearty laughter as he shook rain from his clothes. He hopped onto the stool next to us, dropping his backpack at his feet.

Travis jutted his chin in the cutie’s direction. “You know this guy?”

The cutie clapped Travis on the shoulder like they were best buds. “Your partner and I met outside the registration office. Didn’t we?” He winked at me. A slight blush warmed my cheeks. Our new friend ordered another round of beers from the now annoyed bartender and insisted on paying when we offered, tossing down a wad of cash on the counter. We cheered.

“Where do you handsome boys hail from?”

“Chicago,” Travis said. 

The American arched his caterpillar brow. “Oooo, Chicago, huh? Too cold for my blood. I’m from California originally, but I’ve traveled all over. Bit of a vagabond, you could say.” He offered a hand in dire need of a manicure. “Wesley.”

We shook and made introductions. Wesley held onto Travis’ hand a bit too long for comfort. It’s nothing, I reassured myself. Just jealousy sinking its teeth into my heart.

“What are you boys doing on Caye Piedra?” Wesley asked, then sipped his beer.

I flashed Wesley my ring. “Celebrating our engagement.”

“And looking for adventure,” Travis chimed in. “Trying to, at least, but the weather’s not cooperating. How about you?”

“I’m an anthropologist. Here studying Maakoob culture.”

The stone-faced woman slammed her machete through a sapodilla and sucked the brownish flesh from its shell, juice dripping down her chin.

Travis nodded toward Wesley. “Get this, Brandon. A real Indiana Jones.”

Wesley waved away the remark. “Nothing so exciting. I spend most of my time doing research for institutions. But this is a personal venture.” He leaned forward and spoke quietly. “Ever heard of Áaktun Kojo’ob?”

Travis and I admitted we hadn’t.

“Not surprising. It’s a secret of the island. Known only by these bosquimanos—” Wesley jabbed a thumb at the locals, “and yours truly.”

A few stools down, the stone-faced woman chopped another sapodilla in half with a fierce downward stroke. “Bik a yéetel le kaano! Bik a yéetel le kaano!“

I tore another strip from my beer label. “What did she say?” 

The bartender slid the woman another thimble of gold liquor. “She says beware the snake.”

“Snakes?” I asked, squirming on the stool. Like Indiana Jones, I detested the slithery creatures. “What are they talking about?”

The woman slammed the machete blade into the wood counter, much to the bartender’s dismay, and glared at Wesley. “Bik a yéetel le kaano!“

“Just a bit of superstition.” Wesley turned away from the fiercely intimidating woman. “Áaktun Kojo’ob is nothing but a historic cave system. But the Maakoob believe it to be the birthplace of the Iwanci. A giant snake, twenty feet in length, that hunts the jungle. Pure nonsense, if you ask me.”

“Le monstrousos comerán teeche’,” the stone-faced woman seethed as she squeezed the fruit’s juice into her drink.

Swallowing a pull from my beer, I recalled what the concierge said about the jungle not being safe. “Maybe we should listen to them,” I said more to Travis than our new friend. “Superstitions are around for a reason.”

“Monsters?” Travis rolled his eyes. “You’re kidding, right?” he asked Wesley.

From beneath his wet shirt, Wesley lifted a wooden whistle that hung from a string around his neck. Red beads sparkled on each side like reptilian eyes, the inside of the mouthpiece carved with tiny notches that resembled fangs. The barrel and lip plate thinned into a coiled tail. The serpentine instrument gave me the creeps, but Travis couldn’t stop gawking at the damn thing.

“The ancient Maakoob called this a Zumbido. According to legend, the ancients used the instrument to call upon the Iwanci to protect the island from outsiders, like us.” Wesley placed the flute near his lips and blew a few trill notes.

“Náachkunta’al teech u le áaktuno’,” the stone-faced woman seethed, pointing the tip of her machete at us.

I suggested that it was best we talk about something else, but my words fell on deaf ears.

“Ignore them, friends,” Wesley said, unconcerned. “Áaktun Kojo’ob is a relic and the Iwanci a story to frighten tourists.”

That familiar gleam returned to Travis’ eyes. “How far away is this cave?”

“About an hour drive west through the jungle.”  

I nudged Travis’ thigh beneath the counter. Did he really want to spend our last day tracking monsters in the middle of the jungle with Mr. Crocodile Hunter? “I thought we were going back to our room…?”

“Don’t let me come between your plans,” Wesley said, holding up his beer. Then he leaned into Travis. A slight smile passed between them, churning my stomach. “But I hear the cave is quite the adventure.”

Travis pumped my hand, excited. “This is exactly what we’ve been searching for.”

What he was searching for. But I knew right then there was nothing I could say to change his mind. And I’d be damned if I was going to abandon him to the company of our new friend.  “When do we leave?” I said, attempting to sound cheery.

“No better time than the present!” Wesley downed his half-full beer.

“Let’s do it.” Travis slammed his too and followed Wesley out the door.

As I stood to leave, the Maakoob woman plucked a wriggling green worm from inside the ripe peach fruit with the tip of her machete. She stared me dead in the eyes and dropped the worm to the floor and squished it beneath her sandal. “Drenarán a k’i’ik’el!“she said. Though I had no idea what she said, her words struck louder than the coconuts dropping on the tiki hut roof.

•   •   •

Not twenty minutes later, lightning slashed open the dark sky and rain poured forth like blood from a gushing wound. Blasts of wind shoved the golf cart from side to side and the tires skidded in the inky swamp water that washed over the rutted gravel road. The cart’s plastic windshield crinkled and pattered beneath the hammering downpour.

Inside the cart, the rain drenched us sopping wet, our summer garb inappropriate for the tumultuous weather. Travis helmed the wheel while Wesley navigated from the passenger’s seat. They’d relegated me to the rear, the third wheel. Whenever the cart fishtailed, I had to cling for dear life to avoid sliding off into the brackish canals that lined the muddy road. I demanded Travis to slow down, but he and Wesley whooped it up like a couple of good old boys mudbogging; a side of Travis that I hadn’t seen before and wasn’t sure I liked.

The landscape mirrored itself in every direction, the cart cutting through thickets of mangrove swamp, garbage tangled in the spindly branches. Had that cocky bastard Wesley gotten us lost? I tried to track our location with my phone, but the red dot of my GPS zipped around the map like an angry mosquito trapped in a jar.

“Are you sure you know where we’re headed?”

 “Another few miles we’ll snake around an S curve, which should bring us to a staircase leading up into the hills.”

“Should?”

“Chill, Brandon,” Travis scolded me over his shoulder. 

Behind the wheel, he remained cool as a Caribbean breeze. But Travis never broke a sweat. Somehow, he always managed to land smoothly even in the most turbulent situations. Too bad his blind confidence did nothing to quell my anxiety. What would we do if we punctured a tire or ran out of gas? The Maakoob didn’t seem the type to give three shits about three Americans stranded in the forest, storm or not.

A pothole jostled us forward in our seats. I caught a glimpse of a gun sticking out of Wesley’s waistband. “You always packing?”

Wesley pulled down his shirt. “Swamp’s a dangerous place.”

“Full of scaly, fanged creatures.”

“Possibly.”

“Why don’t you use your whistle?”

Wesley blew a trilling note. “Satisfied?”

Travis glanced over his shoulder and shot me an irritated look. How dare he take Wesley’s side? They’d known each other…what? An hour? I stared off into the jungle, refusing to let Travis see me pout.

So, this cave you’re taking us to,” Travis said, bubbling with excitement, “The Maakoob really think it’s home to some ancient snake?”

“That’s the word in the villages. Supposedly, their priests sacrificed outsiders to appease the Iwanci’s god, Macanci.”

“Sure hope we don’t run into any Maakoob priests out here,” I said. “Not keen on dying for some cuckoo witch doctor’s reptilian religion.”

“Oh, the Maakoob priests weren’t crazy,” Wesley said. “They were well respected in the tribe. It was believed feeding Macanci nourished the island.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Wesley spun around in his seat, ensuring he could be heard. “Imagine having the power of a god in your hands.” He flipped his hand palm up and tingled the air with his fingers as if drawing down the lightning. “Wouldn’t you do anything to appease it?”

Incomprehensible dread gnawed my gut. “Sounds like you admire them.”

“I’m a humble anthropologist. But don’t you worry, the Maakoob haven’t performed the ritual in centuries.”

Steam rose from the vaporous swamp, the cart’s headlights swallowed by an opaque mist. Bubbles rose from the surface of the brackish canals. Beneath the droplets of rain, something splashed in the garbage littered waters. A long black tail swished a rippling trail before disappearing beneath the surface. The tail looked like it belonged to a giant eel. As I peered closer, the tail broke through the water, long as a canoe and thicker than the trunks of the Caribbean pines, and rattled in the air. Arrowhead shaped fins protruded from its slimy skin.

“What the—?” I pointed at the scaly appendage. “There’s something in the water.”

Travis hit the brakes. The wheels dug perpendicular trails in the mud as the cart slid sideways to a halt. I clung to the rails to keep from being flung off. Again, the tail slipped beneath the trash heaped surface, splashing a sludgy wave of garbage onto the muddy bank.

Travis and Wesley hopped from the vehicle and approached the canal. I pleaded over the rain for them to stop. They halted in their tracks. The brackish water swayed lazily, the rain pelting the surface like bullets denting iron.

Brow wrinkled in confusion, Travis said, “There’s nothing here.”

“A tail. It came right out of the water.”

Wesley narrowed his eyes and studied my face. “Are you sure?”

Travis grabbed a stick to poke at the water. “Probably just a fish.”

“It wasn’t a goddamn fish.”

Wesley stepped close enough to the canal the toes of his boots tipped over the edge of the bank. Once again, fear squeezed the breath from my lungs. I may not have enjoyed Wesley’s company, but I didn’t want to see him dragged underwater. I begged him to step back.

“If something was there, it’s gone now.” Travis tossed the stick, stomped back to the cart, and jumped into the driver’s seat.

“I know what I saw.”

“Sure.” Travis started up the cart. “Water monsters. Another thing you can run from.”

“What does that mean?”

“You haven’t wanted to do a goddamn thing except lounge in the resort since we got here,” Travis said with enough venom to poison my heart. “Why didn’t you just say you didn’t want to come here? Would’ve saved me a whole lot of time, money, and trouble.”

A claw of rage scratched at my throat. “Okay, I’ll admit this isn’t exactly my idea of a dream outing. But this is fucking stupid. Driving out to the middle of the jungle in a storm. To what? Be killed by—”

“Brandon, I’m going into the cave. That’s that. It’s up to you if you want to come with or stay in the cart.”

“You two lovebirds ready,” Wesley interrupted, seemingly finished with his observation.

Lovebirds? More like snapping turtles. Spinning the ring on my finger, I looked at my partner, hoping to catch his eye, but Travis continued to stare out the plastic windshield at the falling rain, his grip on the wheel tight enough to make his knuckles blanch. It’d taken us flying thousands of miles away from home to an isolated island to discover that maybe we weren’t meant for each other after all.

God, what a disaster this vacation has turned out to be.

•   •   •

“There’s the S curve,” Wesley pointed and winding turn in the road.

As we entered the second bend, obscured by rain and the littoral forest, the headlight gleamed off a massive black boulder in the middle of the road. “What the fu—?” Travis hit the brakes and tugged the wheel sharply to the left. The frontend swerved as an elongated tail swatted the fender, knocking the cart into a mud-splattering spin, flinging me from the seat like a boomerang. I spun through the air before crashing to the ground, the force from the landing knocking me unconscious.

When I awoke, I staggered to my feet, palms and arms bloody, not knowing where I was until I saw the cart tipped over on its side, smoke and gasoline pouring from its engine. Remembering Travis, I rushed over, calling out my partner’s name. A slit carved the canopy roof in half and a crack splintered the windshield. The tires spun slowly to stop with nowhere left to go. Buckled in his seat, Wesley hung sideways, unconscious. I unbuckled his seatbelt and dragged him from the cart.

Yet there was no sign of Travis. Not on the road or floating in the brackish water. No sign of him anywhere.

Wesley blinked his eyes open as he came to. “Did we crash?” he moaned, gingerly touching the knot on his head.

“Where’s Travis?” I asked, helping Wesley to his feet.

Unsteady on his feet, Wesley held onto my arm while he glanced around. “I don’t know,” he said, a slight tremor shaking his voice for the first time.

We swiped through the scattering of palmetto and poked the polluted waters around the mangroves, calling Travis’ name. Mine grew more desperate by the second, my worst fear dragging me beneath its dark waters. As I stabbed the murky canal with a branch, I expected the creature to grab and pull me under too. But it too had vanished.

Wobbly, Wesley leaned against the bush guard. “That thing must’ve taken him,” he spoke aloud what I was already thinking.

“This is all your fucking fault,” I wielded on him. “You knew all along, didn’t you? That these things were real.”

Wesley held up his hands. “Whoa! Listen, I understand you’re pissed, but I seriously thought they were a myth. I mean, giant serpents…?”

“Then why did you drag us out here.”

“I thought it’d be fun.”

“Fun!” I stomped through the mud towards him, fists clenched.

Wesley backed away. “Whoa! Take a breath, okay. We need to figure out what to do.” He pointed to the cart. “Our transportation is fucked. Let’s call the resort or emergency services. Maybe they can help us.”

But neither of us could get a signal. Far as I knew, we were nowhere close to civilization. It could be miles through the jungle. And with that thing lurking in the water…

I caught sight of the stone stairs leading up into the hills. The same ones Wesley mentioned. The ones leading to Áaktun Kojo’ob. As angry as I was at Travis for getting me into this mess, I wasn’t going to leave him to die.

I headed off toward the staircase.

Where you going?” Wesley called after me. It was obvious he didn’t want to be alone.

“To your precious cave. I bet that’s where that thing took him.”

“Sure that’s what you want to do?”

“You can run off into the jungle if you want, but I’m going after Travis,” I said, not looking back.

The squish of Wesley’s footsteps trailed after me.

•   •   •

We climbed the staircase up the rocky slope, scattered with thick underbrush and thorny trees. My damp socks squished inside my flooded shoes as I carefully stepped on the loose stones. One slip from this height would break more than a few bones. Might even snap a neck. Then what would I do? Bad enough the wind threatened to toss us off the stone staircase with each hurling gust. More than once, I held out my arms to keep from tumbling backwards. Still, I continued my ascent, determined to find Travis and get us off this fucking island for good.

Stopping, Wesley slumped forward, hands on his knees, breathing heavily and spitting blood red rain from his mouth.

“Let’s keep going.”  I climbed ahead.

Huffing, Wesley peered at me through the streams running down his face. “You must really love him. To walk straight into the mouth of death, I mean—”

Halting, I spun the ring on my finger. “Before today, I would’ve said yes. Now? I’m not sure. He showed me a side of him I’m not sure I feel safe being around. Still doesn’t mean I’m going to leave him behind.”

We climbed in silence, to the patter of rain and our heavy breaths. When we finally saw the top, we raced like boys playing king of the hill, bursting through the rows of underbrush along the summit. Below, the hill opened into a valley that stretched across the island to the vast ocean beyond. Lightning spiderwebbed against the sky and the wind howled as rain continued to batter the earth. A sprawl of treetops spread for miles. No sign of civilization in any direction. As much as I detested the thought, I doubted Travis and I could ever make it back to the resort without Wesley to guide us.

“Welcome to Áaktun Kojo’ob,” Wesley said, lacking the excitement he’d shown earlier.

The summit faced a massive black cave shaped like a serpent’s head. Smooth stone slabs jutted from the rock wall like a long neck. Striations aligned into fin-shaped patterns. Huge pits on the top and sides formed the nostrils and eyes. Pointy stalactites and stalagmites grew in a spiral around the mouth.

We stared in awe.

Shivering in the rain, I peered into the ring of pointy stones and suffered a flashback of the eely tail rising from the swamp. “They carved an entire snake out of the rock.”

Wesley smiled at the abomination. “It’s magical,” he said.

“Terrifying is more like it.” But I didn’t believe for one moment it was as terrifying as what awaited us inside.

•   •   •

The cave swallowed us in complete darkness. Blasts of hot air, stinking of rotten fish wafted into my rain-soaked face and churned the yeasty beer in my stomach. Wesley rummaged in his backpack for a flashlight. Since he only brought one, I flipped on my phone light, hoping it wouldn’t drain the battery. I let Wesley take the lead.

Spiky columns pierced through the rock about a foot apart, sharp and hard unlike the ground that squished underfoot. Water dripped from the ceiling, thick and frothy and yellow like soup broth. I tried avoiding the sticky shit, but it dripped from everywhere. Moisture from the humidity, Wesley claimed, but I didn’t think so.

The light from our torches vanished in the darkness a foot or two in front of us. The walls narrowed and changed into the color of raw pork the deeper we walked. “A lava tube,” Wesley posited. “The cave was most likely part of an active volcano in prehistoric times, which explains the swelling murmurs and groaning rumbles.”

The slick, gooey wall pulsed against my touch I felt my way forward. The hairs on my neck tingled.

“For the record, I never meant for either of you to get hurt.”

“Then the next time you want to invite strangers on an outing, suggest something like a natural history museum.”

“You have to understand. All of my life, I’ve hoped to uncover some great discovery. A mystery to explain a part of civilization that we don’t understand. If the Iwanci exist, then that means…”

I turned on Wesley. “That my fiancé’s dead,” I seethed quietly. “Now shut your yapping. The last thing we want to do is warn these things were coming.”

We reached a section where the tunnel tapered into a narrow, ring-shaped passage. “We’re going to have to worm through.” Before I could argue, Wesley crawled in on his belly. As he grunted and kicked, I was once again reminded of the tail in the swamp. I shook the image away and gathered my courage. If he was still alive, this was the last time I ever let Travis talk me into anything.

After Wesley’s feet disappeared, I wiggled in after. The rock scratched my arms and legs, porous as a cat’s tongue. Something sticky on the stone lathered my hair and skin and clothes in a frothy green slime. The walls undulated, like the slithering of a snake. No wonder the Maakoob named this place after a giant serpent. That’s just your claustrophobia playing tricks, I reminded myself. Squeezed in tight, with nowhere to go but forward, panic seized me by the throat and strangled what little courage I’d mustered. I struggled to breathe the noxious air, and a tightness crushed my chest. I couldn’t push forward, but I couldn’t scoot backward either, paralyzed as the dark crept in.

Using my phone’s light, I desperately searched for Wesley, but the beam vanished, unable to penetrate the tenebrous gloom. Had that son-of-a-bitch low-rent Indiana Jones abandoned me? Would the Maakoob, or stupid tourists like ourselves, find my crushed skeleton decades from now? Damn it! Why hadn’t I stayed at the resort, lounging by the jacuzzi with a cocktail?

From somewhere ahead, a pinhole of light shone from Wesley’s flashlight. A few more feet, he said. I pushed with my legs and pulled with my arms until eventually the passage widened. I crawled out into a spacious chamber.

“You okay?” Wesley pulled his gun from his waistband and checked the clip.

For the first time in my life, I wished I was armed — not that I knew how to fire a gun.

A whistling hiss echoed throughout the cave. My heart clenched. Wesley clicked the safety off on his weapon. We journeyed further into the chamber, careful to step quietly. A thumping sound grew louder with each muffled footstep. Followed by a slurping noise. Someone screamed. I recognized the scream.

“Travis!”

“Brandon, wait!”

Chasing Travis’ agonizing screams, I rushed ahead blindly. In the beam of my flashlight, the chamber widened into a graveyard of human bones, ending near the fossils of several mammoth reptilian creatures measuring close to twenty-feet-long. Tube-shaped torsos flared into forked tails. Dorsal fins ran along their backs and vent-like gills slit their necks. They’d embedded their rounded heads into the cave walls, as if they’d calcified while feeding.

I stumbled backwards at the sight of the Iwanci, nearly stumbling over what looked like a pile of animal and human bones.

On the opposite wall, Travis lay twitching on a ridge of soft rock, face white, red spittle spooling from his lips, as one of those monsters — very much not calcified — sucked blood from his chest. Eyes wobbling, Travis reached a bloody hand out toward me before his arm collapsed at his side and his head drooped to his chest.

“Travis!”

The Iwanci tore its maw from Travis’ stomach, ripping a circular hole from where the teeth pierced the skin. The creature rose to full height on its tail and spread its webbed arms. Spouted a fountain of blood out of the top of its head as it inhaled through its gills. Bent its body, creating a vortex of pressure on the ground, preparing to lunge. Staring at me with its black pinhole eyes, it opened its mouth, a spiral of horned fangs, and unleashed a whistling hiss. Terrified, I couldn’t do anything but watch, the light shaking in my hand as adrenaline coursed through my veins and charged my racing heart.

“Holy shit! I can’t believe it!” Wesley huffed as he caught up, gripping my shoulder and poking the gun in my back. “Magnificent!”

“What are you doing?”

Wesley whispered into my ear. “Imagine what you could do if you controlled a god?” The pistol’s hammer clicked as he pulled it back. “The only one left of its kind.”

I fought against the fear that clenched every muscle, and with a quick movement flipped around my phone around and shone it over my shoulder into Wesley’s eyes. The bastard yelped, momentarily blinded. I dropped the phone and spun, grabbed Wesley’s wrists, and tried to wrestle the gun from his hands.

The Iwanci hissed.

Wesley headbutted me. Fire and brimstone blazed up my nose and pierced my skull. My knees bucked. I shuffled my feet to try to remain standing. I grabbed the whistle hanging around Wesley’s neck and pulled him to the ground with me. The gun clattered across the pitch. Wesley drove an elbow in my jaw, my teeth clacked together. He scurried over to his weapon as I scrambled to a kneeling position. He picked it up and aimed the barrel at my head.

I placed the whistle to my lips. Wesley’s eyes widened with realization. Before he could pull the trigger, I blew a long, high-pitched note.

The Iwanci sprung — webbed arms spread — and soared like an arrow through the air. Wesley fired three shots, blasting off half of the Iwanci’s spiraled face, but not slowing its speed. It speared Wesley before he could squeeze off another round, knocking the gun from his hand as it drove him into the pile of bones. The Iwanci placed its awful, suckered fingers to the sides of Wesley’s face, flared open its mouth, and sunk its fangs into his throat as he screamed.

Carefully, so as not to disturb the monster’s meal, I slunk over to Travis. Thankfully, he was still breathing. I pulled off my outer shirt and wrapped it tightly around Travis’ wound. Threw Travis’ arm around my neck, slipped my own arm around his waist, and pulled my fiancé to his feet by his belt. With as much haste as we could reasonably muster, we stumbled back toward the exit. I scooped my phone from the floor and quietly snuck past the Iwanci as it continued to feast on Wesley’s bloody corpse.

•   •   •

Phone light leading the way, I hoisted Travis up the pink tunnel. The ground shuddered beneath us with each rumbling thump. We leaned against the rock wall to keep our balance. What was this cave? Was the volcano still active? We lurched forward, taking every ounce of my strength to shift a few steps. Travis shook fully awake and grumbled in agony. When he saw the wound in his stomach, he screamed, “Oh my God! Oh my God!”

I tightened my grip. Told him to hold on. We were getting out of this fucking cave. But right now, I needed him to remain calm.

Behind them, something slithered along the cavern at inhuman speeds. It was that monster! “Come on,” I shouted at Travis. “Get your ass moving, tough guy!”

I glanced over my shoulder as the Iwanci propelled itself forward with its coiled tail and suckered fingers. Half of its face hung in a pulsing, gory clump, pieces of rubbery skin flying off as it chomped its jaws. Despite its wounds, the creature was gaining.

We picked up our speed, running as fast as our legs could move on the shaky ground toward where the cave narrowed.

“I can’t…I can’t crawl,” Travis said.

“You have to.”

“Please, just leave me. Just leave me.”

I placed my palm against Travis’ cheek. “Stop your fucking crying. I didn’t come all this way for you to die now.” Handing Travis my phone light, I ordered him inside the opening. “Now get your ass in there.” Travis lowered himself on his knees and wriggled inside the tunnel.

The Iwanci opened its massive maw, baring its cavity of fangs, and sprung. I belly-crawled into the narrow passage seconds before the creature slammed against the wall. Every part of my body ached with pins and needles as the opening squeezed tighter and tighter. A trickling of warm, frothy water soaked my clothes as I wriggled forward.

Four suckered fingers wrapped around my ankle and dragged me screaming backwards. The Iwanci stuck its battered head into the sunlight, spread its mouth like the petals of a flower, and flashed its spiraling fangs as it pulled me in, breathing the stench of rotten fish.

A whooshing roar shook the tunnel.

“Brandon!” Travis shouted. “Hold your breath—”

Spray hit me full force as a river rushed through the tunnel. I dug in against the tunnel as the frothy water slammed into the Iwanci, knocking the wailing creature loose. The waves washed the monster out of the tunnel. I sucked in a deep breath and slipped my head beneath the bubbling water. Swam upstream, fighting against the current that threatened to sweep me into its undertow. In the darkness, I had no idea which way I was going. Hopefully forward. The muscles in my arms and legs ached as I squeezed through the narrow opening. Choked on a swallow of the foul spray as I gasped for air. I prayed Travis had made it out alive.

The tunnel finally widened. Soon as I broke the surface, I breathed in a heaving lungful of air. Climbed onto a porous rock. Travis leaned against the wall, clutching his wounded abdomen, staring on in horror.

The mouth of the cave snapped open and closed.

“Jesus Christ,” Brandon said.

Áaktun Kojo’ob wasn’t a cave. It was the god, the giant snake, Macanci! Awoken from slumber.

With his last ounce of strength, I grabbed Travis’ hand and we crawled toward the lip, ducking low and weaving around the sharp fangs as they bit down. We clenched onto the muscle of the Macanci’s tongue as it darted out and tasted the rain. Beneath its lip, a hillock of thicket and underbrush. Not a cushy drop, but we probably wouldn’t break any bones. At least I hoped. But before we could leap, the Macanci drew us back into the cavernous darkness of its mouth.

“We’re going to have to jump,” I told Travis.

Doubt spilled in tears from Travis’ eyes. “I can’t. There’s no way. I—”

I gripped the sides of Travis’ face. Pressed our foreheads together. “We made it this far. Just a little more,” I said. “I’m not going to let this thing devour us.” I kissed Travis’ lips. “But the next time, I choose the vacation.”

Macanci flicked out its tongue. I squeezed Travis’ hand. “Ready?”

I gave him no time to answer.

We leapt. 

Something snagged my undershirt in mid-air and pulled me backward toward the Macanci’s snapping jaws. Below, Travis landed safely and rolled down the hillock. I smiled knowing he’d escaped. Then I glanced over my shoulder. The Iwanci, perched between the Macanci’s monolithic teeth, stood with its ragged mouth wide open, a gigantic forked tongue snaked around my neck. I tried to wiggle free, but the serpent’s grip tightened, cutting off my oxygen. Why did I have to die on this godforsaken island? I didn’t even want to come here.

Macanci’s jaw clamped shut, severing the Iwanci’s arm and tongue from the rest of its body. With an apocalyptic rumble that shook the earth all around it, the god leaned back, thrashed its head back and forth, and swallowed its young. Blood rained from the sky with the storm and soaked me crimson as I plummeted. The ground came up to meet me fast, and in a blink I was tumbling downhill, crashing through branches and bush that tore my skin and clothing. An Australian Pine abruptly halted my momentum as I slammed into its thick trunk, the wood snapping my spine. But I didn’t have time to acknowledge the pain before Travis was helping me to my feet. Together, we lurched out of the valley as a torrent of red rain fell from the sky and Macanci hissed.

•   •   •

I didn’t know how far we’d gotten — miles it seemed — when a golf cart’s lights approached through the mist. Despite the pain, I waved my free arm and cried for help. The driver honked the horn. Then I saw who it was. The Maakoob woman from the bar. I thought she’d come to finish what Macanci hadn’t. Too exhausted and weary to run anymore, I waited for her to pull up alongside us. When she did, she motioned for us to get in. I wanted to hug her.

“Ko’ox, estúpido,” she hollered.

Holding back tears, I thanked her. She scowled at me and waved for us to hurry, muttering curses in her native tongue. In the near distance, the Macanci bellowed to the roar of the wind.

Sharp daggers stabbed me in the ribs with every exertion, every breath, as I lowered Travis into the passenger seat. A puddle of blood soaked through the shirt around his waist. I began to pull it away to look at the wound, but Travis stopped me. “I’ll make it,” he chuckled despite the pain that knitted his brow. “Nothing a few margheritas won’t fix.”

How the fuck could he be so cool at this moment? But that was Travis. Always landed on his feet — well, maybe he rolled this time — under any circumstances. He took my hand. “You were brave back there. A real Indiana Jones.”

This brough a smile to my face.

Bruised and bloody, I crawled onto the rear seat. Patted the Maakob woman on the shoulder to let her know I was ready to get far away from this horrible jungle. Against the rain and pounding wind, the Maakoob woman pulled a U-turn and pushed her cart as fast as it would go. As the last glimpse of Macanci disappeared beneath a sea of swaying pine, I unleashed the tears I’d held back.

Travis reached between the seats and found my arm.  “I’m sorry about the way I treated you today. I promise it’ll never happen again.”

I spun my engagement ring, unsure whether that was a promise Travis could keep. Travis was who Travis was. I saw that clearly now. We’d have a lot to talk about when we got home. But right now I was just grateful to be alive. I couldn’t wait to get off this fucking island.

As the Maakoob woman raced through the jungle, I kept my eyes on the canals, wary of what dark things might slither there.

About the author and the piece (click to expand) 

20th-century adventure stories have become the poster child for what’s wrong with colonialism. Meanwhile, there is a longstanding tradition of reclaiming old tropes that excluded minority characters and, in this case, “gaying them up.” Doing so with the colonialist tropes, of course, results is a story that fits comfortably in neither a publication that still loves the old pulps, nor a publication that loves gay main characters. We’re happy J.R. Blanes sent this one our way.

J.R. Blanes is the author of the novel, Portraits of Decay, from Ruadán Books. His short fiction has appeared in Allegory, Tales to Terrify, The No Sleep Podcast, and Creepy, among others. He lives in Chicago with his wife and their neurotic dog. You can visit him at https://jrblanes.com/ or https://ruadanbooks.com/

 

©2026 by J.R. Blanes. All rights reserved. May not be used for A.I. training.