Marching Faithful

[stan4us]

Marching Faithful
Written by Ashren
Co-plotted and edited by STAN4US

Chapter 1

An early July morning saw the streets of downtown east Chicago along the prosperous and popular Michigan Avenue city block cold, snowy from the winter, windy as always, and especially dark due to the cloudy sky blocking the moon, which was slowly giving way to the morning sun. It was early; the streets almost completely desolate except for the occasional patrolling police officer, or a motorcar or two sitting near the curbs as some optimistic birds chattered and called from their trees in near by Grant Park. An owl returned from its night of hunting and lighted on an oak branch just across the street from a dingy-looking apartment, at the door of which stood five darkly dressed men.

The first man knocked sharply and loudly on the door.

“Open up!” He called with a voice of heavy German accent. After a time there was some sound of movement on stairs, and then the door was opened.

The newcomer eyed the company suspiciously.

“Yes?” He demanded, finally.

The man who had knocked spoke up now, though the others remained silent. He was a man of large, stocky build, but his face was mostly shadowed by the uniform cap that he wore.

“I am looking for a Dr. Philander, I understand he has a room here.”

“It’s early.” The first man replied from halfway behind the door.

“It is,” replied the German with some amused sarcasm. “I must talk with Dr. Philander.”

The landlord declined from making any more comments about the hour, for the group before him held an air of dark intimidation.

“Yeah, Dr. Philander lives here…but I haven’t seen him for days now. Bastard’s been skippin' on his rent for months.”

“Might we take a look about his room?” The German asked.

The landlord fell short of refusing the request as he sighted a firearm holstered at the man’s waist.

“…Alright. But I wouldn’t usually do this for anyone else. And please…don't make a scene. Last thing I want is the coppers on my butt about this dump.”

With a nod of agreement from the first German, the company were led up a flight of stairs to a landing.

“It’s the third door on the right. Here’s a key.” The landlord said. “I’ll come back in ten minutes. You fella’s will be finished by then?”

He was rewarded with another nod from the first German, and then retreated to his own room. The lead German unlocked Philander’s door and the group stepped into the room beyond.

At first glance it seemed occupied by little but papers, damp furniture and books, but shortly there was a scuffling from behind a desk and a short, scruffy, unshaven male head emerged.

“Who…who’s there?”

“Dr. Philander, I presume.” Said the German with some inappropriate cheer. “I need you to give me some information on a matter of great importance.”

“Leave me alone, I’m busy.” Philander replied hastily in his British accent. “Who are you?”

“Forgive my rudeness. I am Colonel Baron Karl von Berlin, representing the German Imperial Army. Now take a seat.” The German replied, gesturing with a hand towards the desk.

Philander eyed him nervously, but then repeated,

“…No, go away! I told you I’m busy. You have no right to be in here!”

Karl stepped rather menacingly towards the desk, and, reaching for his side placed a Lugar pistol on the cluttered surface of Philander's faded wooden desk.

“Alright, alright…no need to get like that!” Philander stammered, rising to his feet. It was plain from his appearance that neither he nor his clothes had been washed in weeks, blotched with dark and greasy stains, torn holes and shreds, and his elderly wrinkled face was lined with dirt and his body emitted a mild odor. He sat down in a worn fabric-cushioned chair, and Karl sat opposite him at the desk in a wooden seat.

“Now.” said Karl, “I need you to tell me all you know about this Tarzan fellow.” He produced a newspaper clipping from a side pocket and held it up so Philander could see. The photograph beside the article was of a man crouched in gorilla stance, a few more of the beasts at his side.

“I don’t know anything about him.” said Philander, folding his arms.

“Dr. Philander, you wrote that article. I do not like it when people try to be difficult with me.” Said Karl, annoyed, putting his hand on the pistol threateningly.

Philander stammered again with subdued rage. “That 'missing link' has been the ruination of me since I met him!”

Ignoring the old man's outburst, Karl continued. “Tell me what you know about him,” he said.

“Everything I know is in that article, read for yourself,” Philander said.

“No. I want you to tell me in your own words, again.” said Karl, reaching again for the pistol.

“He-he was raised by apes, in the jungle! He prevents anybody from hunting or harming the animals there.”

“I see. And can you tell me of…well, anything you think is of great value to him?” Karl continued.

“How should I know?! He’s an ape, he eats bananas and picks at fleas!” Philander replied with what was almost a shriek in his tone, but with the idle cocking of Karl’s Lugar he broke into a sweat and was motivated to continue. “He uh has a wife…the daughter of my competition, but last I heard he was dead and she and that 'missing link' have reproduced.”

“Ah, very interesting.” Karl said. “Thank you, Dr. Philander, you have been most useful to me.” He pointed the gun at the man’s head and pulled the trigger.

Philander screamed shrilly as the hammer fell back but no bullet was fired. The gun had been empty. Karl and his men laughed maliciously and walked towards the door leaving Philander still quaking in his damp chair.

“Thank you,” Muttered Karl cheerily to the landlord who stood just off the threshold, and as they made their way downstairs they heard the shouts of ‘You’ve cheated me on your rent for the last time, Philander! Get off my property!’ from the landing.

Outside, Karl turned to his men and spoke to them in German.

“Our preparations to leave may begin.”

Chapter 2

Tarzan awoke from a dream in near shock and panting for breath. He dreamt that his wife and daughter were being carried away upon the shoulders of a giant, unseen and shadowy enemy while he pursued them trying to protect them but could never reach them in time.

After the confused few moments in which one travels between dream and reality, Tarzan came to realize that Jane was peacefully asleep beside him in bed, and that it had indeed been just a dream. He watched her as she lay dreaming, endearingly kissed the back of her neck and stroked her hair more to assure himself of her solidity, but also to comfort her should her dreams be anywhere near as unhappy as his. She slept on, undisturbed.

He finally got up, caressed Jane’s head as if to assure her that he was not leaving her, and then entered the adjoining room, the nursery of their little daughter. She too lay asleep on her front in the cot; sun browned skin and long dark, slightly curly hair spread out over the sheets. The little four-year-old was the picture of tranquility.

Sitting beside her, he put one hand through the bars of the cot and held her tiny hand. The child’s eyelids flickered slightly, and then she opened them a little and gazed sleepily at him with sea-blue eyes.

“…Daddy…”

“Tarzan?” Jane’s soft voice now came from the next room. Tarzan replaced the child’s tiny hand on the pillow, and stood up to return to his wife. She looked up at him with the same sleepy blue eyes, and whispered “where were you just now?”

“I was just looking at our daughter.” He said as he lay down beside her once more and put an arm about her warm body. “I hope I didn’t make you worry.”

“No.” Jane said. “I know you wouldn’t leave us alone.”

*~*~*~*

It was a warm day. Almost uncomfortable, but quite bearable. Enough for Jane to sit happily in the shade and write in her journal, at the same time keeping watch on Tora out of the corner of her eye. The little girl was playing and rolling about and hooting with the young apes, whose parents watched them in a similar fashion to Jane as they sat around munching leaves.

Tarzan, Jane knew, was nearby gathering food with Terk and other older gorillas. It was evening now, so soon they would return and it would be time for Tarzan to count everybody before nesting.

Shortly he and the rest of them entered the clearing. Tora threw a mango at his head as he approached, and then rolled on the floor screeching with laughter. Before Jane could intervene, Tarzan leapt at the child with a grin and they rolled over together in the dust playing. Jane bit her lip fretfully.

“Oh, Tarzan be careful! She’s only little!”

The laughing bundle of man and child came to a rest, and Tarzan suspended Tora over his head at the length of his legs and arms, before lowering her into a gentle subduing embrace. She put her little arms about his neck and mumbled fondly “Daddy.”

The-four-year-old spoke the gorilla’s simple language far better than English, but in the presence of her mother she was generally encouraged to attempt the latter.

Tarzan stood upright and approached his worried wife. He smiled at her and gently kissed her cheek in greeting, as Tora clambered from his arms to hers.

“I was being careful.” He said.

“I know…I just worry that you forget sometimes. She’s only little.” Jane replied as Tora mimicked Tarzan’s kiss on her cheek.

“I know. She can handle it, can’t you balu.” Tarzan chuckled. Tora imitated a leopard’s growl and pretended to bite at his hand. Tarzan laughed and smiled at Jane good-naturedly. She still looked slightly disgruntled.

“Yes well at some point something’ll happen which-”

She was cut off by the unmistakable sound of explosions and gunfire in the distance. The gorillas shrieked in surprise and began to gather up their young as birds took flight over the jungle canopy.

“Heavens!” Exclaimed Jane. Her husband’s face was set in a frown, glaring in the direction of the noise, as several columns of gray smoke began to rise over the jungle canopy, and Jane could see that he was about to leap off into the trees to investigate.

“Tarzan…please be careful.” She said. Her tone made him turn to face her. Touching her cheek with one hand he smiled at her reassuringly.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon. You know I’ll be fine.” He said. Jane half-smiled at him in return. He kissed her forehead, and Tora’s. “I’ll see you at the tree house. I promise I won’t be gone long.”

“Alright.” Said Jane, though still with some reluctance. She watched him scamper away on all fours, calling to the rest of the family to begin nesting as usual.

Jane sighed and caressed her little daughter’s head.

“Alright…come on then.” She said.

*~*~*~*

Though the tree house was not far from the gorilla’s nesting trees, the sun had already completed its descent toward the horizon by the time Jane stepped inside, and a warm orange glow illuminated the room before her. She replaced her journal and pencils on the desk and then dressed Tora for bed. By the time this was done and the child lay again in her cot she was unconscious. Jane rarely had trouble making her sleep. Though when Tora was awake the bars around her cot more often than not failed to prevent the escape of that agile little creature. Even with a mosquito net draped over the top.

Jane cupped her elbow in one hand, resting her cheek in her palm as she leant against the wooden railing, and looked down at the little girl in the cot. Her little girl.

A slight movement behind her didn’t even motivate her to turn. He was back early. She felt a strong hand rest on her shoulder, and another on the railing beside her elbow. Jane smiled.

“I trust that you were right then, love; nothing you couldn’t handle?” She inquired. He made no reply.

“Tarzan?”

Jane looked down, and felt herself go cold. She didn’t recognize that hand. In an instant she turned but the scream never left her throat as that same, black-gloved hand seized her by the mouth, and the other encircled her back subduing her struggle. Frightened tears welled up in Jane’s eyes as her arm was painfully twisted and pinned against her back. Dragged towards the door, she watched two other men in dark uniforms approach Tora’s cot, and she screamed more loudly for help, but the painful grip on her jaw increased and two fingers pinched her nose so that she couldn’t breathe.

“Shut up, woman!” Came a hissing voice of unfamiliar accent. Jane did shut up at that point, as something heavy struck the side of her head and she fell immediately unconscious.

*~*~*~*

It was dark before Tarzan returned to the tree house. He had traveled via the gorillas’ nests to count them, as he would have done earlier had it not been for the distraction. This was on his mind at that moment still: though he had searched about for a long while he had found nobody, nor much evidence of people at all but for a mass of muddy boot-marks and wheel tracks that eventually trailed off into the river. He had resolved to continue the investigation in the daytime.

As soon as he opened the door, however, he knew something wasn’t right. The door itself swung open gently in the slight coastal breeze, a thing that Jane never overlooked for fear of tempting animals in during the night. A picture frame had fallen onto the floor from a table, the glass smashed. The house was quiet.

“Jane?” Tarzan called, uneasily. It hardly came of a surprise to him that there was no reply. Entering the nursery, he noted the mosquito net and sheets carelessly scattered to the floor.

It didn’t even take him the time of reading the note pinned to the cot to realize what had happened.

We have your wife and daughter. You will come to our camp and give yourself up before sunset tomorrow or they will be tortured and shot.

A map was sketched beneath the text.

Tarzan sat back on his haunches, running his eyes over and over the note though not really taking it in.

“Jane…Tora…”

They had been captured while he was distracted on the other side of the river. Probably had been taken a long time before he got back. A hundred thoughts and emotions played through his head. How had they known? Why? Had they been harmed? If he’d only arrived home sooner, would he maybe have saved them?

His wife and child were in danger. This single thought, from the part of his consciousness that knew his life’s purpose - to protect them - forced him to push aside the self-blame and confusion to make way for a single minded logic: How he was going to get them back.

But he had another responsibility, towards the ape family. Tarzan dropped the note on the floor - he had no need for the map - and went for his spear. He closed the tree house door behind him when he left.

But before he departed for the camp he went to the gorillas. It was late now but everyone was woken up as Tarzan called a counsel.

“Jane and Tora have been taken by men. I must go and fight for them, alone. Nobody may come with me,” he said, giving Terk and admonishing glance, “it will probably be dangerous. And I cannot tell you when I will return, but until I do,” he paused to allow the gorillas’ protest to quiet, “I will put Moyo in my place to watch the family.”

Tarzan gestured toward the young silverback that had once challenged him for leadership. Moyo nodded slowly.

“I will do my best. But only until your return, Tarzan.” He said. It was a solemn wish of good fortune and farewell, and the rest of the family nodded respectively. Kala spoke to Tarzan alone before he left.

“Be careful, son. Don’t do anything unwise to put yourself in danger.” She said.

“I may have to.” Tarzan replied, darkly. Seeing her sad face, he put his arms around her, and said encouragingly, “Don’t worry. We’ll all return soon, safe.”

[Jane]

Chapter 3

By the time Jane regained consciousness she didn’t know where she was. She was traveling, and she judged by the dark, bumpy progress and engine rumblings that she was in a car, or some other kind of motored road vehicle. Her head hurt something awful and at first she could see very little of her dark enclosure, but after some time she began to make out the crouching shadows around her as uniformed men. All had guns.

Jane drew her knees up to her chin and curled herself against the wall. One of the men noticed she was awake and muttered to his neighbor. She recognized the language to be German, but understood little. The second man shoved a Hessian sack towards her.

“Make it shut up, Brit.” He said. Jane hastily pulled the material towards her and gathered her shrieking daughter close into her arms. The little girl seemed unharmed, if quite scared.

Jane hugged her tightly and kissed the top of her head, which she held gently beneath her own chin.

“Shhh…sweetheart…please.” She whispered. Tora put her arms around Jane’s neck and held onto her hair. She had little idea of what was going on, and soon became calm and quiet in the arms of her mother.

After all, what harm could come to her there?

Jane wondered at where they could be if the vehicle was able to traverse the terrain. No longer in the jungle, surely. And where were they going?

And why?

It was not long though before the vehicle came to an unsteady halt, and there was the sound of doors slamming and men shouting to each other. Then the doors of their truck opened and Jane was hustled out onto the ground by more armed soldiers. She carried Tora who had fallen asleep in her arms during the journey, and looked about uncertainly. They had arrived at a camp of twenty or so small individual tents, and all about were more uniformed men with long guns. One of which was suddenly shoved roughly into the small of her back and she was told to follow one of the soldiers.

She could see the jungle in the distance; they appeared to have made it to some sort of scrubland. Sparse trees could be seen on the horizon behind them, but little more than grass and mud ahead, as far as could be seen in the dark. Black clouds had crept in overhead and extinguished any remaining star or moonlight. "We must be so far from home," Jane thought miserably to herself as she was directed into a small green tent.

Within was a rolled out sleeping mat and sleeping bag, and nothing more. There she was left alone with her sleepy daughter all but for a guard outside each tent opening. It was very late now; Jane knew that, even if she did not know which side of midnight they were. She didn’t feel even a trace of fatigue. More at the present time she wanted to know what was going on, but she was too frightened to attract any attention.

“Don’t worry…your daddy is going to come and get us soon. By tomorrow afternoon we’ll be tucking you into bed and I’ll be safe in his arms.” She whispered into Tora’s hair, though she knew the child was asleep, and that the words were only for her own comfort.

Soon she heard footsteps approaching outside, and more unfamiliar words and voices, and then the canvas was pulled aside to reveal a soldier carrying a meager plate of food, leftovers from the camp’s recent dinner. He put it down on the ground, and then looked at her expressionlessly as he saw her staring at him.

“Why have you brought us here?” Jane asked quietly. The soldier smiled unpleasantly from beneath the peak of his gray curve-brimmed helmet.

He spoke English well, despite his heavy German accent.

“With you here we are expecting your husband to arrive before sunset tomorrow. He will surrender himself to us. If he does not arrive in time, you will be shot as well.”

He smiled more, enjoying the sadistic pleasure of watching her distress.

“Why?” Jane asked. She felt the hot, desperate tears form in her eyes and escape. The soldier shrugged slightly.

“Our Colonel doesn’t want him to get in the way.” He said simply. “Strange. The rest of us aren’t in such awe as he about these legends.” Then he smirked wickedly. “However, you might be able to compensate for the lack of amazement in this monkey hunt instead.” And after a small, sinister chuckle, he finally left the tent, and Jane to her grieved thoughts.

*~*~*~*

Tarzan traveled untiringly at great speed through the jungle that was so familiar to him. Through the tangled trees and undergrowth he pursued the clear marked trail of men - their boot prints, and possibly even more potently their smell.

He traveled with the coast to his right. At such a speed he had hoped to overtake them on their journey. Men on foot were slow compared to Tarzan at any time, and presumably the woman and child with them would further slow the company, but after discovering no footprints of either Jane or Tora, he concluded that they must have been carried.

This led him to worry about their state. Unconscious? Injured? Or other possibilities that he cared not to imagine. Even carrying their prisoners, men on foot were still slow thus Tarzan was armed in expectation of intercepting them. But this hope was quelled as the foot tracks ended, where the jungle became less dense and the brush-grass savannah began, and here started new tracks. Tarzan had never seen a car but for pictures in Jane’s books, however he recognized the marks they left and knew also that the motorcar could travel far faster than he, especially on open ground.

And now he was passing through the last stretch of heavy jungle and could see the beginnings of the savannah that covered the valleys and hills below and beyond him. By now he had traveled without pause for three hours, and even the combination of his demi-God athleticism and stamina, and the single purpose that drove him to retrieve his mate from whatever peril she may be prey to at that time, could not change the fact that he was mortal.

These captors must have anticipated his ability to hunt and chase, for as he had briefly noted from the crude map, he knew that his destination was a great distance from their jungle home, yet it had clearly been stated that he would only have until the following sunset to complete the journey of his own means.

He had now realized that he would never intercept his quarry on route if they were traversing this brush grass in motored vehicles, and he decided that it would be more logical to stop and rest a while now. Dawn was still far off, and Tarzan knew that was well within his ability to reach his goal within the time he had been given. Better to rest a while now rather than destroy himself in futile pursuit and be half-dead already upon arrival.

Thus Tarzan halted on his southeasterly passage, in the last fringe of tree boughs that stood before a never-ending stretch of infertile earth. Food was scarce here but Tarzan succeeded in discovering a few nuts and berries to relinquish his mostly spent energy.

Finally he stretched himself out on a branch to rest but did not allow his consciousness to wane for fear of sleeping too late and leaving himself with inadequate time to complete the journey.

From this point he observed a great glossy she-Numa prowling about among the bushes and roots and tree trunks of the jungle border. The young lioness sniffed about, searching for the source of an unfamiliar animal scent. Tarzan watched her approach his tree, and then look up and sight him.

She bared her teeth and emitted deep throaty growls at him up on his branch. So far from home, these savannah beasts new nothing of Tarzan of the Apes, and so when a low and equally ferocious growl rumbled upward from the Jungle Lord’s deep chest - the warning growl of a predator - the she-Numa didn’t heed it for a moment. Instead she paced about the base of the tree, and stretched her long shiny body up along it and flexed her claws against the bark, growling still all the while.

Tarzan, irritated, broke off a branch and cast it down at her head, causing the lioness much offence as she roared up at him in retaliation, but Tarzan was in no mood for a fight, and eventually the unsatisfied cat left him alone.

Dawn was now upon the horizon to Tarzan’s left. He stretched out his cramped muscles, feeling ready to continue along the trail. Tying his spear across his back and shoulders he was just about to leap from the branch and begin the long dry route across the brush-grass when he spotted the she-Numa returning. She emerged from the trees, and Tarzan would have turned to meet her attack wanting no further delay in his journey, but he halted when he saw a further seven lionesses tailing her at an easy lope.

Tarzan stopped. A single Numa was one thing. Eight was a completely different matter. In his dense jungle home there were few lions. He was more used to dodging Sabor or Sheeta, the speedy leopard and panther through the trees and vines rather than Numa, mostly restricted to the ground and far less agile.

Lions were fast. Dodging between trees slowed Numa down and as a jungle predator he was less formidable than either Sabor or Sheeta, however, out here on open plain, with no dense trees or vines, Numa was faster than even Tarzan himself. And with eight of the beasts…

Tarzan crouched on his branch apprehensively. The pride approached as the first individual had done, paced about at the foot of his refuge and growled up at him. Tarzan answered their growls but again it served him no use.

He waited, hoping that they would lose interest when they found they couldn’t get at him. Unfortunately, these Numas were hungry and prey was very, very scarce. For half an hour they paced about and growled, and flexed their claws on the bark, and Tarzan growled back. After an hour they had all stretched their sleek golden bodies out on the grass and gazed lazily up at him, for they had nothing better to do all day.

Tarzan couldn’t jump back into the trees and disappear for the great jungle boughs had long become scarce and far between. The nearest to him was more than seventy feet away, a distance Tarzan certainly wouldn’t make through the air and even with a small sprint it would be dangerous with the Numas watching his every movement.

After six hours Tarzan had become desperate. The sun had settled overhead with a dangerous glare, and apart from everything else he needed water, soon. The persistent lionesses had robbed him of half of his remaining time, and they still showed no sign of giving up.

The tormenting thought of his wife and daughter’s peril raged inside his mind. He absolutely had to get down, and get away. If he could perhaps distract the she-Numas for a moment, then he’d have a chance of escape.

Tarzan began to release a rain of sticks and small branches down on the lazy company. It was not successful, only annoying the creatures to the point of standing and growling, but, by chance as he danced around in frustrated fury Tarzan happened to strike the stone knife that generally hung from his waist against the point of his spear, making a spark.

Tarzan immediately broke off a long branch from above his head, and holding it with a foot took one stone blade in each hand and struck them along each other. The sparks fell on the dry crackly leaves and they ignited at once.

Tarzan held his makeshift missile before him and waited for the flames to spread along its length, at which point he dropped the blazing branch into the center of the hungry she-Numas. The response was instant. Tarzan did not say around for the aftermath; he leapt almost horizontally outwards and landed about twenty feet away from his tree, and then pelted onwards on knuckles and feet, driven by the momentum of his dive and shot like a rabbit toward the nearest trunk.

A couple of the Numas who had recovered themselves, in a single moment twisted around and bolted after him, but he was too fast, and had already leapt for a third tree closer now in range by the time they were in full motion. After a fourth and a fifth the pride were homed in on him again as one, but Tarzan eluded the lot of them as he hopped about effortlessly through the higher branches.

The hungry tribe pursued him until he was lost in jungle.


Chapter 4

Tarzan ran flat out for the rest of the day. After having lost the lionesses he doubled back to the edge of the jungle and picked up the motorcars’ trail once more. Now the sun was low in the sky, but he was still confident that he would reach the camp before it touched the horizon.

After all, he had to.

However, as soon as he reached the crest of the final hilltop and looked down towards his destination he knew something wasn’t right. Blackened earth and faint pillars of smoke were visible even from this distance, and, as Tarzan neared he saw trucks overturned and scorched tents, and the place was deserted but for a number of burnt and bloodied corpses strewn about among the ruins. Vultures circled overhead.

It was with a haunting dread that Tarzan sped on down the last slope to that deathly place. He slowed to a walk, still on knuckles and feet at its edge and moved cautiously between the smoldering embers and charred bodies. The smell of smoke and blood was everywhere.

Tarzan searched about for a single living soul but there were none. Tarzan halted in misery. He must have been too late. But even now the sun had yet to sink below the hills so Tarzan could not believe that it was so simple as that. Neither did he want to believe it.

Many of the corpses were burnt and mutilated beyond recognition, thus Tarzan could not conclude whether or not Jane was among them, but he was encouraged by the fact that he found none small enough to be a child. Perhaps they had escaped.

Tarzan investigated the overturned trucks at the ruined camp’s edge. In one he discovered a new scent, not men or smoke or blood, but Jane. To him it was as clear and recognizable as ink on paper.

He also studied the footprints that covered the earth through the whole area and was intrigued to discover the marks of many bare feet as well as boots. These feet entered the camp from different angles. He picked up Jane’s scent again on the far edge of the settlement, and here on the ground were more prints of what looked like a bare footed army that lead out of the camp together.

Tarzan decided that the men in boots must have been attacked by a Savannah tribe, which he found confirmation of in the form of wooden arrows protruding from one or two of the less burnt corpses. The tribe must have taken Jane and Tora with them, and, judging by the scent of his wife still recognizable on the new trail, she at least was still alive.

*~*~*~*

Tarzan had been correct. As Jane sat sleeplessly in her tent-prison the previous night the silence of the camp had suddenly been broken by piercing screams and howls and the sound of running feet and gunshots. Jane gathered up Tora from the bed and held her close in fear but when an arrow ripped through the side of the tent and buried itself in the ground she scrambled up and fought her way outside, her guards having by now deserted their post to charge against whatever foe had invaded the serenity.

Chaos met her sight as she stood, terrified, and watched about fifty Negroid tribesmen rushing in among the tents with flaming torches, wielding hatchets and bows, and shouting a hideous battle cry. They had taken the camp by surprise in these early morning hours and the twenty or so German soldiers were completely unprepared for such combat, and many of the men were dead or injured before the first few shots had been fired.

In wide eyed horror Jane stood frozen to the spot for an instant, clutching her child now quite awake to her body and watched the arrows and bullets and men screaming with their clothes on fire. Many of the tents were also ablaze. She saw one soldier have his head cleaved open from the crown to the neck by a black warrior, and in that moment she screamed and turned to run from the camp but was hit by a German soldier running the other way, and she fell to the ground from the force of impact.

That she now lay half-unconscious may have saved her life and the life of her daughter, for to the panicked camp both seemed dead and so were paid no attention by anybody. It wasn’t until afterward when all the Germans lay dead and all the tents either burning or smoldering, that a pillaging tribesman discovered her and dragged her to her feet.

But in the same instant that he had his hunting knife pressed to the pale skin of her throat another thought came over him.

These were warriors of the cannibalistic tribe of Mbonga’s village. This group of vicious Negroes had moved about the Angolan jungles for years but in time of late they had prayed upon the meat of Karchak’s gorilla family. Tarzan had since driven them from that settlement and they had moved south, and now lived in the jungle outskirts and hunted more often upon the brush-grass savannah. They had spied the German camp at a distance in the daytime and taken them as a threat to the tribe’s territory. After all, there was very little worth hunting in this place.

The men knew well of Tarzan, and that this white woman and child were his. The warriors remembered a time when they did not have to scavenge for food on a hot dry savannah, and that it was Tarzan who had driven them away from there. It would be a sweet vengeance for them to have his wife and child in their ownership.

So Jane was pulled by her arm over to the rest of the warriors and they discussed her in their strange tribal tongue. She kept Tora close and held her hand, and listened fearfully to the jabbering dialect that was being shared between her new captors. She did not know it but they had decided to take them further south to their village.

Thus the warriors bound Jane’s hands with rope, and then her ankle at a length to Tora’s, and secured her to a wooden steak that was the remnants of a tent-pole on a short leash that ran from the post to Jane’s hands. The men then sat about a fire and talked and laughed and devoured the meat of a few of their mutilated victims, some of which was offered to Jane but she refused, and rested until the first light of dawn.

The warriors rose and untied Jane’s leash from the steak, and the company departed at a fast walk. Jane carried Tora for the first while.

“Mama…where are we going to?” Asked the child at length.

“I don’t know, sweetheart.” Jane replied quietly. They continued silently for a while. Then Tora asked:

“Where’s daddy?”

Jane looked downward and took a moment to let the tears forming in her eyes to fade.

“I don’t know.”

[Jane]

Chapter 5

Jane could not know it but Tarzan wasn’t more than twelve hours’ travel behind them. However his trail was not an easy one along the hard earth where sometimes the footprints and smells became unclear in the dry grass and the heat. To his far left was the edge of the jungle and to the right the coast, both with many many miles between, and through the necessity of water consumption in this uncomfortable atmosphere Tarzan was now and then forced to break away from his path and seek that relief. Jane’s captors had water gourds with them and so were not slowed down in this way.

Fortunately for Tarzan the track led gradually towards the southeast, closer and closer to the tree line. He had left the empty camp in the evening but was forced to rest as he had been running for half the daytime already.

At the same time when darkness fell on the Savannah the warriors who had Jane and Tora also settled to rest, for they too had been traveling since dawn. Jane in all her suffering was fearfully grateful for this stop. Tora, and Jane especially, were incredibly hungry by now having eaten nothing since the small plate of food given by the German soldier the night before, and Jane had sacrificed most of it for her daughter. She had also carried the little girl for a large part of the distance, and her feet were sore and bloody and her muscles now at the point of failure, and both she and the child fell deeply asleep for the short night rest that they were given. It was only a brief escape from the horrors they had experienced in the last twenty-four hours, Jane having watched the terrible warriors cooking and eating the flesh of their human victims was far from sure that she and her daughter were not just being dragged along as a meal for later.

They rose at first light to continue, relentless as the day before. Tarzan departed at the same time from where he had rested in the trees. Hours further southeast he found the tracks pass into a second deserted camp. This, just within the outer jungle parameter was far larger than the first camp, with about eight hundred tents, though most were now shredded and stained brown with dried blood.

Again, Tarzan feared the worst for Jane and Tora, but ere the dreadful thought had entered his mind it was discarded when he realized that the two hundred or so corpses strewn about the place had been picked at or rotting for days, possibly weeks. Tarzan recognized the uniforms to be the same brown ones as those from the first camp, and the men appeared to have been slaughtered morbidly by an army of rabid leopards and panthers. Except that each and every body either had a pair of puncture wounds on their necks or had had their throats entirely ripped out. Also, but for the rotting blood sprayed across the tent canvas or over the ground, most of the copses seemed to have been completely drained.

Tarzan really didn’t know what to make of it, but on discovering that his trail picked up again on the other side of the camp he pressed on and tried to put it out of his mind.

He could not know of the small, lone grave site lying a short distance further into the thicker jungle; a grave made of a little pile of stones and a couple wooden branches tied together to make a cross, which was stuck into the ground with an European explorer’s curved-rim hardhat set on top. Nor could he know that his brief presence there had laid the foundations for a future encounter that would bear much significance on the fate of many lives, as he was secretly watched by the unseen lingering grave-maker.

Indeed Jane, Tora, and the terrible warriors had stumbled across this horrific graveyard half a day before. The superstitious men had decided that it must have been the work of some horrible forest demon, and were all thrown into a state of panic that drove them to flee from the area at a great pace.

Jane was forced to carry Tora who was unable to keep up on foot, and Jane was nearing collapse once more when suddenly the men at the front of the troop sounded up the same piercing battle cry that they had when they attacked the first German camp. The reason for this sudden uproar was a second party nearing up ahead.

It was a band of warriors from a rival village to the M'bongans. These men, though not cannibals were formidable fighters with poisoned-tipped arrows and metal blades, a threat and a great one to the fifty or so huntsmen that had spent two days running across the hot semi-desert. So it was that the leader of Jane and Tora’s captors held up his arms in a gesture of non-violent advance toward the newcomers, who lowered their weapons.

The two tribes spoke a common tongue, thus communication was simple. Rather than to battle and each lose a number of their men, the M'bongans were prepared to trade with the second group for a peaceful departure.

Jane saw that the new tribe had its own prisoner - a western soldier, quite tall with a tanned complexion and dark hair, though she could see from his sand-yellow uniform that he was not German. His face was bruised and marked with dried blood, as were his torn and dusty garments. He gazed at her with full attention and concern, until one of the Negroid warriors approached her and pointed at the child in her arms.

“What?” She asked, pressing Tora more tightly to her body uneasily. The man pointed again and made a beckoning gesture, and said something she did not understand.

“No!” Her voice was pleading, yet defiant. He was trying to take Tora from her. When she would not comply he stepped threateningly towards her and attempted to grab the child out of her arms, but she sprang back away from him with a sob.

“No!” Jane repeated. She was caught by a second man who held onto her arms with a painful grip, and the first took his knife from the leather bindings at his waist. Jane’s body faltered at the sight of it.

The man with the knife advanced towards her, grabbed her by the hair and held the blade across her throat, repeating the same strange words he had said before except with a greater urgency. Jane wept, but with defiance and bravery she closed her eyes and held Tora even closer to her body. The little girl had her face hidden against Jane’s skin.

Even when the man shouted she shook and cried out but did not cave. The cruel blade was removed from her skin suddenly, making her shudder and she did not open her eyes immediately, but when she did she saw the point of the horrible thing now at the back of her child’s neck. Tora was whimpering, knowing quite well that something wasn’t right.

Without further protest Jane released Tora to the hands of this man, and the child immediately began to wail as she was carried away.

In desperation, Jane tried to run to her, but was caught again by the strong hands of her captors.

“No! Give me back my little girl!” She screamed through tears and fought franticly against her oppressor, but all he did was turn her around and punch her hard across her cheek and eye. Jane’s legs collapsed beneath her at this point and she fell to the ground broken down in tears, helplessly listening to her daughter’s shrieks.

“Don’t you dare touch a single hair on my baby’s head!” Jane wailed into the ground.

The two tribes parted, and she was eventually pulled up by her hair and dragged along with the M'bongans, while Tora’s cries grew fainter and fainter into the distance.


Chapter 6

It was this, second tribe that Tarzan first ran into as he left the slaughter camp. They had stopped just within the edge of the jungle a few hours previously to rest.

Tora, who had seen the look on her mother’s face as she’d been taken away and heard her screams now knew in her own way that something wasn’t totally right with the world, and she had put up a fighting fuss toward anybody who tried to pick her up.

Despite their ferocious fighting skills this tribe were not barbarians. Had Tora caused this nature of disturbance with the M'bongans she may easily have been beaten for it, though of course Jane would never have allowed it had she been there, but even in this half-primeval civilization it was known that it was wrong to hurt a child. Thus the kicking, screaming little girl was leashed at a distance of three meters by a rope to the rear of the company and pulled along.

Tora, a good little girl, did what she would never do in the presence of either of her parents: she threw a fit. She shrieked and howled and lay down in the grass and rolled around and chewed the rope and beat her little arms and legs on the ground until she almost changed color.

Confident that she would eventually tire herself out the warriors continued and tried to ignore her, but it seemed that they were wrong. Finally one of the men wrestled her into the bag, which Jane had kept since the first German camp and used to cover Tora from the glaring sun, and suspended it from a branch which was then transported by two men, one at either end, as Tora squirmed about and clawed at the bag hissing and growling like a deranged leopardess.

It was not long at all before the men made a mutual decision to stop and find some food and make camp. They were just inside the tree line, seeking shade. Tora was allowed her head and arms outside the bag, as she and the soldier prisoner were tied to two trees as the warriors searched around the area for something to eat.

It was here that Tarzan spied them, as he happened to pass by along his trail that now ran within the outer stretches of forest. He observed the men from the secluding branches, as they crouched around small cooking pots with a small collection of berries and edible plants.

Then Tarzan’s heart leapt with delight as he noticed Tora leashed to a tree beside the soldier. Even in this precarious situation his joy moved him to quiet laughter at the sight of her growling and throwing little stones at the back of one of the seated warriors, who leapt up and pointed at her, shouting words of resentment to his companions. She seemed unharmed.

Tarzan looked about for Jane but she of course was not there. He frowned with worry, but did not imagine she was dead. These men didn’t appear to be the same ones who left the trail he had been following.

Tarzan frowned more when he saw the captive soldier, however when he saw the man’s uniform he withdrew his assumption that he was one of those who carried off his wife and daughter in the first place, or even that he was a friend to them at all.

It would not be wise to attack these men, there were far too many.

Tarzan dropped silently to the ground about fifteen feet deeper into the trees. Landing in a pit of fertile mud, he had an idea. He smeared the mud and leaves all over his skin to disguise his human body, and then crouched down on all fours and released a deep bellowing call, rather like a lion. Almost as one the fifty or so men sprang up and grabbed their weapons. They thought it was some jungle animal, and, all very hungry took off after it as a hunt.

Tarzan galloped on ahead, taking care to stay just within sight yet out of reach of the men. He led them among the trees away from their camp, occasionally bellowing as he had before to encourage their pursuit. An arrow whistled close past his shoulder, and another but he evaded their sharp tips dodging from side to side. He could hear the men, the beating of their feet on the earth, their shouts and their heavy breathing.

By now almost half a mile from the settlement, Tarzan suddenly increased his pace and jumped ahead of the hunters. Once out of sight he leapt up into a tree and watched them charge past, further into the jungle. It would take them a little while to realize he had got away.

Tarzan swung back to the camp as fast as the vines would take him. There was still no sign of the men, and he dropped down onto the ground near one of the abandoned cooking pots.

“Daddy!” Tora squealed happily as she noticed him. He grinned, still a little triumphant at the decoy he had just performed, and scampered over to her. He untied her bag from the stick and bundled her up into his arms.

“Hello balu. Where’s your Mama?” He asked, glancing around again and listening for any sign of the returning warriors. Tora looked a little confused.

“Mama’s not here…they took her away.” She said, turning her head and gazing in the direction they had come from.

“Who did?”

Tora continued to gaze. “The other ones.”

“If you’re talking about the white woman, she was taken on south by the other tribe. The men from here that captured me took that kid away from her, I guess as a peace offering.” Piped up the soldier, suddenly. Tarzan approached him.

“Was she harmed?”

The soldier shrugged. “I don’t know…she looked pretty tired. I saw one of the men hit her in the face but that’s all.”

Tarzan set his face grimly with consideration. Then he turned again to the soldier.

“Who are you?” He asked.

“My name is Alexio Fidel, of the Portuguese Army. Who are you, if I am to call you my rescuer?”

“Are you?” Tarzan retorted with vigilant distrust, and a hint of held anger in his tone. “How do I know you are not one of the men in brown clothes that took away my Jane in the first place?”

Alexio puffed out his chest indignantly. “I am not one of them! We have been fighting them for days now, and lost many of our men to those bastards! They had been hiding and preparing themselves in the jungles of this colony for weeks until they attacked us and took half of the towns and outposts up across the coast. Took us by surprise.” A look of bitterness crossed his face. “I am virtually the last of the eastern front!”

“Why? What are you fighting for?” Tarzan asked, cutting with his stone knife at the rope bonds encircling Alexio’s body.

“The war, my friend. The Great War. Surely you must know about that?” He said. Tarzan shook his head distractedly, finally releasing the man from his oppression. “She seems to be able to handle herself, doesn’t she?”

“Who?” Asked Tarzan.

“The child. She put up a good fight against the Negro warriors.”

Tarzan smirked inwardly and felt pride lift his spirits slightly.

“Come on.” Tarzan said. “They will be on their way back by now.” Quickly wiping some mud off his body, and with the aid of some lengths of rope he turned Tora’s bag into a carrier for the purpose of leaving his arms free while transporting her. She tugged happily on the long think dreadlocks at the back of his head. “I’ll bring you with me, but only if you can help me find Jane.” Tarzan said to Alexio.

“I will do my best.” Said Alexio as Tarzan put an arm about his chest beneath his arms, and jumped upwards into the lower tree branches. The soldier gasped with the sudden increase of his velocity and he felt his stomach drop towards his feet. Tarzan swung with ease away from the camp, as he heard the battering of feet on earth as the tribe returned, and then grinned to himself as he heard their exclamations of surprised anger at the disappearance of their prisoners.

*~*~*~*

For further days, Jane and the M'bongans traveled at speed into gradually denser jungle. The men, so anxious to get away from the supposedly demon-inhabited ghost camp favored to continue at a half-run, and Jane grew rapidly exhausted of this. Should she stumble and fall at any time she would be cuffed and kicked and dragged to her feet again by her hair or her arms by the impatient warriors and pulled along by the rope tied tightly about her wrists.

Barefooted from the outset, her feet and legs were bruised and scratched and her much worn skirt torn by the tangled undergrowth they had traipsed through for so long. Never did she make a comment or complaint about her treatment, or attempt to resist for she knew it was futile. Even the tears constantly upon her cheeks inspired no pity in the hearts of the brutal men, as she wept in fear of her daughter and husband’s fates away from her lonely in the merciless forest.

By the second day her energy was spent beyond replenishment, and she marched like a zombie, seeing nothing and not particularly caring about what was happening to her. Even when a sudden rally of gunfire exploded over the company and Jane was left in favor of the fight she just stopped and sat down on the ground, too tired to attempt an escape and knowing that such an attempt would be useless anyway.

As the black warriors fell to the rain of loud bullets, a few tan-brown uniformed men like the Germans who had taken her from the tree house appeared shouting from behind the shadow-inducing trees, and rushed upon them with their long guns and sharp bayonet blades aimed at her. Their Maxim machine guns and Mauser rifles made short work of the fifty or so unprepared cannibals, and soon each and every one lay bleeding and dead or dying on the ground. Jane was approached with curiosity and mild amusement. She sat with downcast eyes waiting for the guns to deliver her from the days of suffering and misery she had endured.

Alas to her hopes the men pulled her to her feet and began to question her.

“Who are you?” First in German.

When she did not respond they asked again with impatience in English. “Who are you!?”

“Jane.”

“Jane what?”

“Jane Porter.”

“The wife of the Ape Man?”

“What?” Jane looked up now, her interest caught for the first time in days. “What have you done with my husband?” She demanded.

The men laughed unpleasantly and guided Jane away without any further discussion.

[Jane]

Chapter 7

Tarzan and Alexio pursued the M'bongans’ trail from a few miles ahead of the warrior tribe. The jungle cut away to their left quite suddenly leaving an open plain that would take days to cross.

“We must find a way of carrying water.” Said Alexio. Tarzan crouched with his face close to the ground, and traced his fingers around the imprints in the soil.

“Jane was here. She must have rested here.” Then on closer inspection, “No, she fell. She fell here. You can see by the way the earth has been moved.” He said, glumly.

Alexio sighed heavy-heartedly. “I have a water canister with me. I can fill it up if we find a stream before we’re too far from the jungle, but we will have to make a choice about whether to follow the trail directly or stay closer to the trees, because we won’t have enough for more than a few days.

“In that case we will have to travel faster.” Tarzan said, standing. Tora gurgled in her slumber, tied safely to his back.

“It may be wise to rest now.” Alexio said.

“I would prefer to continue. Jane could be hurt. Or worse.” Tarzan replied grimly.

“Yes. However if we are to make it quickly across this stretch to where the path leads us then I would say that it would be better to recover our energy now, and wait for the dawn before trying. Your daughter is tired.”

Tarzan nodded, and turned without a word to head for the trees. They made a camp there for the duration of the night, with a fire over which they boiled a few jungle vegetables and ate them before making cradles for themselves of the branches of trees. Tarzan snuggled little Tora close to his body as they slept, as Kala did to him when he was a baby. He had barely eaten or slept in days, too worried about his wife and daughter to allow himself the time, but now he had recovered his little girl, and this allowed him enough peace of mind to drift into a half-relaxed unconsciousness.

He was woken at first light by Alexio, who was the first thing Tarzan saw as he opened his eyes; encouraging him to eat some of the berries he had discovered that morning.

“I’ve had a thought, my friend.” He said as they sat around the dead fire and ate their unsatisfying breakfast. “Somewhere on the plane ahead of us, to the east there are some abandoned trenches which was the eastern front that I came from. The Germans had captured it and it’ll have been cleared out since days ago, but there must be a transmitter left behind I can use to send a telegram to my comrades stationed in Luanda. Hopefully the lines were not cut.”

“To come and collect you?” Asked Tarzan.

“Yes...after we have your wife rescued. I and few of my fellows were watching over the German occupation of the trenches, hoping for a chance to get to that telegraph transmitter when they Germans left. But the black warriors found me some nights ago when I was sleeping and they carried me off. I don’t know what became of my companions.” There was a subtle bitterness in these words. “Anyway, if I can contact my superiors then they may send some backup, who will help us.”

“How long will it take to locate the trenches?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know exactly where they are from here where ever here is from all the chaos, but I do know vaguely.” Alexio replied. “Look, friend - I know that you are anxious to go after your wife. I do think that the Germans must be camped somewhere southeast of us. However, we would not be able to defeat them ourselves. It would be a wise decision that I call for help first.”

“How do I know that?” Asked Tarzan, unhappily. “How do I know that you don’t just want my company while trying to get your friends to come and find you so you can go home?”

Alexio sighed. “I can’t prove anything to you, my friend, since you still don't trust me. However, you are my rescuer, and so I owe you my life. All I can do is promise to you that as my rescuer I swear to do all that I can to save your wife. That I swear to God.”

Tarzan knew man’s oath to his God was a very powerful one. “Alright.” He said. “We’ll leave very shortly.”

Soon, Alexio led them across the bare savannah, under the blazing sun that glinted off the glass of his compass. If it had been Tarzan alone he could have run constantly without rest but Alexio was a man and a soldier only thus he would not endure it. In the far distance there was a dark line recognizable as the parameter of the jungle, which ran around in every direction except behind them. The ground was covered with dry creepers and thorny plants that became more and more dense as they progressed. It made for uncomfortable walking.

The earth suddenly began to descend into a shallow chasm, and according to Alexio this was what they’d been looking for. What Tarzan saw was a scorched and barren wasteland of craters and barbed wire, skirted on the two distant edges by a cobweb network of crawling trenches through the flatlands, atop a deep ravine that was once part of a river bed. The smell of death clung to the ground as they reached the bottom of the valley.

“What is this place?” Asked Tarzan.

“It is what remains of hell on earth. Welcome to a battle of the War to End All Wars. So far...I hope so.” Replied Alexio, darkly. “A war where men of one side dash or stalk against another over this strip of ravaged land as they are gunned down or blown up into their self-dug graves for nothing. That was how it was for us. The Germans had the elements of surprise.”

He carefully wide-stepped over bodies, barbed wire, and some poorly concealed land mines in the dead soil. “God...I already hate all this...and the war has just started. This small battle alone was enough to make me dread even this now empty place. Better history does not ever remember these kinds of battles.”

Tarzan came up close from behind Alexio and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “All of what you did was a fight for something worthwhile. Protecting your home. My home.” Alexio smiled back at him, feeling somewhat better, but then he turned away looking back to the land of death before them, with a determined focus.

“What are we looking for?” Tarzan asked, shivering slightly.

He didn’t get an answer, for at that exact moment the ineffably eerie serenity was shattered into uproar by the swarming whizzes of gunfire over their heads. Alexio dropped flat on the ground, as did Tarzan, pulling Tora from his back and holding her at his chest instead.

“I thought you said this place was empty!” He shouted over the racket. They couldn’t see where the shooting was coming from.

“I thought it was - damn it! How stupid of me to assume so.” He slammed his angered fists into the ground.

After a few seconds the machine guns stopped. “Now! Run! Into a trench!” Alexio shouted, quickly stumbling to his feet and heading for the nearest hole, with Tarzan close on his heels.

“What are we supposed to do now?” Tarzan shouted, a single bullet whizzing past his shoulder followed by two more over his head. One was close enough that a small dreadlock atop Tarzan's head lightly flapped from the rush of air. Both Tarzan and Alexio leaped over a pile of muddy sand bags and landed in the bottom of a trench, just in time for further bullets to lodge themselves into the dirt where they had been a moment before.

“I don’t know. Just stay here.” Alexio whispered hoarsely. They heard shouts in German, and then quiet, and then there was the gentle sound of boots running along the dry earth towards them.

“Run. That way.” Whispered Tarzan urgently, and they took off in the opposite direction through the trench.

Alexio swore and stopped suddenly. The trench had ended, cutting them off. The footsteps were close behind them now.

“Just jump!” Said Tarzan; leaping up and disappearing out if sight above the top of the bank. Alexio made to follow, scrabbling at the earth and quickly pulling himself up onto the immediate edge of the precipice. Tarzan was nowhere to be seen.

“Tarzan!” Shouted Alexio, briefly glancing over the cliff and searching but the footsteps in the trench culminated into two men rounding the final bend towards him and resuming their fire at his back. So Alexio ran.

He pelted across the plain among the burnt mine shrapnel and barbed wire with bullets flying past him, and by some incredible luck he made it to the opposite trenches without taking a hit. He ran along the narrow alley until he came to a crumbling, mud-covered hut, the door to which he wrenched open and flung himself inside.

It must have been where these last couple of German soldiers had been holding out for the previous weeks. It was dark, but there was food, a couple of beds, weapons and various other supplies. Alexio quickly salvaged a semi-automatic Karabiner Mauser rifle from the gun pile, crossed to the wooden wall by the door and throwing a kick that punched out a fairly large hole. There he crouched, waiting for his hunters to appear around the next bend in the trench.

They had not been too far behind. Distant shouts became louder and accompanied by footsteps, and suddenly the first man came into view, gun raised. He saw the rifle in Alexio’s hands, and then looked straight into his eyes and stopped.

Then Alexio fired.

He didn’t even pause to see where it went as his eyes searched only for the movement of more men arriving past the bend in the trench, the explosion of the first shot rattling in his head as his eyes watered. He fired again, and then a third time, feeling the shock of the gun as it jolted backward into his shoulder, and the shouts of surprise and dismay from the enemy soldiers. He continued to fire into the cloud of dust before him until all he could hear was the explosions from his own weapon.

And then he stopped, and listened, as the dust and smoke gently lifted in the soft breeze and the sounds echoed off into the distance.

Nothing.

For a further ten minutes Alexio sat almost statue like, poised, and listening. But after ten minutes there was still nothing. So he left his position by the hole in the wall, exited the bunker and hoisted himself up onto the plain once more. He hurried back to the place where Tarzan and Tora had disappeared.

Reaching the site, Alexio realized that the gap between the edge of the trench and the cliff was less than a few feet of crumbling rock, and he had seen Tarzan jump straight up and disappear.

Alexio looked down to the dead riverbed far, far below.

“They’re gone…”

Chapter 8

Heavy-heartedly, Alexio marched west until he again found the trail of footprints that had been left by the M'bongans, now several days before. He still had a promise to keep: to do all he could to find and save the wife of his rescuer, and if that meant single-handedly fighting a tribe of fifty African warriors then so be it.

He had walked slowly back from the point where Tarzan and Tora had disappeared, returned to the trench hut and found the telegraph machine sitting upon a desk in the abandoned underground office, and submitted his Morse-code message. He then pilfered a few rations of food from the crates before leaving the dreadful battlefield, standing at its edge briefly in a final silent farewell, before walking onwards towards the blazing sunset.

By the second day he had re-entered another jungle after walking through the mountains' pass. For Tarzan it would have been easy to detect the scent of the men on the plants and trees, the broken twigs and trampled vegetation, but this was a path rarely used and quite overgrown, and it seemed that Alexio traveled more by instinct than insight.

Stealthier than his predecessors, Alexio eventually came upon the far outskirts of a hidden clearing. Trees had been torn up and the earth flattened down to allow space for six hundred tents and makeshift wooden buildings, within a weak parameter of low fences and idle guards. This was the camp of the illusive German troops, hidden in Angola.

He slipped through the trees a little closer to the settlement. To get in would not be much of a challenge, but carrying out the rest of his mission would be more difficult. What could he do? One man against six hundred armed Germans.

A popping noise behind him caused him to turn in time to avoid the bullet that flew past his shoulder, though it was close, and flung himself at the man who had just fired on him. They both fell to the floor, legs flailing, the rifle firing off up into the tree canopy, and Alexio punched the soldier across the face, and again until he lay unconscious with a bleeding nose. He could hear the shouts of other men rushing towards them, hearing the commotion, so he took the gun and any other weapons he could find among the folds and flaps of the unconscious German’s uniform, which totaled in a knife and a couple of bulky German stick grenades.

Alexio ducked behind a tree but knew that it would not hide him for long. One soldier appeared through the trees to his right and so he fired at him with the stolen Mauser rifle, then pelted down towards the tents and jumped over the waist-high barbed wire fence. He threw a grenade through the open doorway of a wooden building where he saw a startled German sitting on idle guard of ammunition crates, and it exploded with a powerful blast that halted the rush of soldiers behind him. He threw the second grenade ahead of him at the advancing crowd of soldiers, but most of them made it out of the way before the explosion. A bullet entered Alexio’s leg and he cried out from pain and anger, collapsing to the floor as soldiers quickly encircled him and began to viciously pummel him with their rifle’s shoulder-stocks. Then a loud voice came above the excited babble, shouting in German, and the soldiers lowered their guns reluctantly as they slowly backed away, and the crowd began to thin out. A few others grabbed Alexio and hauled him to his feet.

He was taken to one of the wooden buildings within the center of the settlement. Inside was dark as there were no windows or any ventilation, and the room was stifling. There Alexio was thrown unceremoniously into a metal cage of a couple of meters cube, accompanied with a few more kicks and punches, then his escorts left the room looking back with anger and death in their eyes at the prisoner. One of them mumbled in English as they walked away, “We should have executed you on the spot, Allied swine!”

Alexio groaned with pain from the bullet in his thigh, the wound seeping blood through his uniform. He guessed that it had not cut any important arteries for he was not gushing, but the pain was almost unbearable. Sitting down, he leant back against the bars and breathed through clenched teeth in an attempt to calm himself.

The room contained nothing except three or four more cages. Only one other was occupied. A young woman with disheveled chestnut hair was curled up in the corner of the one next to him, but she turned her head with a fearful expression on her face as he had entered.

“Jane?” He asked, breathlessly. She nodded slowly.

“What…what happened to you?” She asked, seeing the blood on his clothes.

“I was shot…once…it hurts but it won’t kill me.” He said, trying still to regulate his own breathing. “Jane?”

“Who are you? You’re not one of them...I saw you with the other tribe, days ago.” Said Jane, crawling a little closer.

“My name is Alexio Fidel. I am of the Portuguese Army…or was. Jane…I-”

“Have you…have you met with my husband?” Jane asked. Alexio nodded, slowly, sadly. “Tell me…is he coming?” She continued, searching his face for a sign of hope. But still he looked sad. Finally he shook his head, slowly.

“Your husband rescued me from the warrior tribe, and the little girl too. He brought me to help him find you…but…there was...an accident.” He glanced up at Jane’s face, pained to make contact with her eyes. She was shaking her head, slowly, disbelieving.

“No…”

“I promised him that I would do all I could to save you…but I have failed. I am sorry Jane.”

He slowly looked up at her again. Her face seemed expressionless, set, her eyes were dry, and she said nothing. Jane turned away from Alexio and curled up again in her corner.

That night, in the heat and the lack of oxygen Alexio tried to sleep and get away from the pain of the bullet in his thigh.

Later he was awoken in the darkness to the sound of Jane softly crying, against the bars of her prison. Such a terrible feeling of guilt and self-loathing swelled inside him that it felt almost as if it outweighed the one in his leg. For all her suffering, the last little bit of hope for Jane had just been snuffed out.

*~*~*~*

They remained thus until late the following morning, after hearing the sounds of the camp rising and going to eat, and then settling down again with seemingly nothing to do, then the wooden door of their dark little shack opened, and a man stepped in with a horribly smug look upon his face. He was dressed differently to the rest of the soldiers, a commander's uniform, with the German officer's spike-topped helmet. Apparently he was the one in charge. Alexio noticed Jane shrink back in fright against the bars of her cage as the man regarded her with a satisfied gaze.

“Good morning.” He said, in English. “Welcome to my camp, prisoner. I am Colonel Baron Karl von Berlin of The Imperial German Army. You are, unfortunately, an uninvited guest, it seems, unlike Miss Jane here.”

“You have no more right to be here in this colony or this continent!” Alexio retorted. Karl sneered at him.

“I don’t think you are in any position to talk about rights, prisoner.”

“Why are you here?” Asked Alexio.

“At the moment we are awaiting the arrival of this woman’s husband.” Said Karl. He regarded Jane with a slightly bemused smile, and sighed. “I do not understand why this woman would choose too live with a human who is an animal in mind and body. Ugh! I am baffled and disgusted. You, certainly, must not be a woman, especially one who does not favor men such as myself.” He smirked slyly, and Jane turned her face away against the bars of the cage. “Anyways, I sent men to collect her and her child a week ago, but they did not return. Luckily, however, she was brought to me in the end after all.” Said Karl.

“My husband is dead, and so is my little girl...” Jane murmured very softly, not looking at him.

“Dead?” Repeated Karl, sounding mildly surprised. “My instructions were to occupy the area of Angolan jungle that is the home of this infamous ape-man and his family, from all I have read and heard. I was told that he protects it faultlessly, so I had to draw him away and deal with him before I could complete my mission. But now, if he is dead...” He sneered horribly. “Then we can move ahead. And I have no more use for you.” He reached for this holster and pulled his side arm out, the same Lugar semi-automatic pistol which he had used to threaten Philander in his apartment. He raised it and pointed it at Jane.

“No, wait!” Alexio interrupted. Jane had turned her face away once more and rested her head against the bars to which she clung, caring little for what was about to happen. Karl looked at Alexio, slightly irritated. “What is it now, annoying swine?” He barked.

“How - how do you know he is dead?” Alexio said, hastily.

“How indeed.” Said Karl, sounding a little bored.

“She could be lying, to try to throw you off.” Alexio continued.

“I find it unlikely.” Karl answered, raising the gun again.

“But what’s the use in killing her? Surely she may have a better use, than simply to be wasted?” And when Karl ignored him, “Look, if its blood lust you have then take me! I am of no use to you. Spare the girl, there is no need for it.”

“No, Alexio, my only reason for living is gone.” Jane murmured. But Karl had paused in thought. Then he smiled unpleasantly.

“A doomed man’s last wish? Very well.” And he turned his gun on Alexio instead and fired at his chest until there were no bullets left. Jane screamed in horror, her eyes transfixed on the image of the soldier’s body convulsing as pieces of burning metal pierced his body, and then he lay still, in a quickly forming pool of blood.

But he had fulfilled his promise to Tarzan.

Karl smiled and heaved a horribly satisfied sigh, replacing the gun in its holster and caressing it fondly with one hand. "The little bastard deserved it anyways for destroying my munitions supply." grumbled Karl. Then he approached Jane’s cage and unlocked it, lifting the bars upwards and stooping to crouch inside.

He reached a brown leather-gloved hand towards her cheek, damp with tears. She sprang away from him, repulsed. Karl chuckled to himself.

“He was right.” He said. “An attractive young girl…might make a nice addition to one of these sultans’ harems in the north, in exchange for some land or valuable property perhaps…or maybe I could even keep you for myself, Jane.” He said, touching the bare skin of her shoulder and neck, though she sobbed and curled herself against the bars in disgust and shame. He chuckled again and withdrew from the cage, locking it again before he left the room, and left Jane completely alone once more to contemplate her unhappy future, never again to see her true love and feel safe in his arms.

[Jane]

Chapter 9

But Tarzan and Tora were very much alive. As they had been fired at on at no-man’s-land Tarzan had made a badly judged leap and slipped down into a small chasm. Disorientated at first, though relatively unharmed, he had missed Alexio’s shouts from the plateau above, who had assumed that they had fallen to their deaths in the deep, all-but-dried up river bed far below him. Tarzan had managed to curl himself around the small body of Tora while in fall, and she sustained barely a scratch, though Tarzan was unconscious for a few minutes after rolling to a halt in the bed of the dusty, rocky, natural trench. The hole they fell into was a challenge to escape from, and it appeared that the only way out was to go further down into the ravine, as the steep walls were far too crumbly to climb.

Having reached the bottom of the valley it was quite dark, but the trees that grew along the banks of the river provided a shelter for them that night. Tarzan built a fire as Alexio had on the previous evening, and was highly delighted to find that fruit grew in this sufficiently fertile area.

“Daddy?”

They had eaten by now, and Tarzan was creating a meager nest in the higher branches of a tree, the fire now extinguished. Tora clung to his neck as he moved about among the boughs.

“Yes balu?”

“Where’s Mama now?”

Tarzan was unsure of how deeply Tora understood the situation, or what had been happening to them over the last few days. But he sensed that she knew something bad was happening to her family. That they were in danger.

“We’re going to get her.” He said, with a reassuring smile. She smiled back, and he knew it was the smile of a young child’s faith that her father can do anything if he says it is so. And with that, she laid her little head against his chest and closed her eyes, and they both fell asleep in their tree.

It took them most of the following day to find a way up hill to the same level as the one they had fallen from, and a full second night and morning had elapsed before Tarzan rediscovered the tracks they had made away from the M'bongan trail towards the trenches. Alexio’s prints ran parallel in the opposite direction, back towards the trail, so Tarzan knew that he must have survived the shooting, and had perhaps even managed to contact his friends.

Whether he had or hadn’t made no difference to Tarzan. They were going after Jane, army or no army.

Despite the two-day delay, by the time Tarzan reached the German camp itself he was only about twenty-four hours travel behind Alexio. It was evening, the sky and the forest darkening quickly.

“Shh.”

Tora clapped both hands over her mouth in cheerful obedience as her father surveyed the idle base camp from the secluding branches of a tree. Jane’s prints and scent led right up to and past the barbed wire fence parameter. Where was she now?

There didn’t seem to be any guard, or anybody wondering about among the tents below. In truth, everyone was having dinner. Then the night guard would be posted and everyone would go to bed. They were going to be ready to leave in their trucks in the morning, and travel until they reached Tarzan’s home where Karl would set up and operate a more functional encampment, as he had been instructed to.

Cautiously, Tarzan skirted the edge of the camp through the treetops. Eventually he came upon one solitary guard who marched idly back and forth around the outside of the fence. Obviously, the camp was not too concerned about intruders.

Tarzan put Tora down carefully on a branch, pointing downwards in a silent ‘stay’ command, and she nodded, understanding. As the soldier came beneath their tree, Tarzan dropped down onto his shoulders and floored him.

“Mmph!” Said the soldier, before Tarzan rapped him over the back of the head with a branch, which knocked him out cold. Then Tarzan removed the man’s weapons, broke them and tossed them carelessly into the undergrowth, and finally bound his hands together with his belt.

He collected Tora from her tree, and slipped un-noticed into the camp, guided more by his nose than his eyes, as Jane’s prints had disappeared beneath the boots of other soldiers strolling up and down the rows of tents.

Eventually he came to one of the wooden buildings. It was not Jane’s: this one had windows. After steeling inside and finding the place to be deserted, it became plain that this was the kitchen. For a camp of six hundred men the room seemed quite small; worktops skirted the walls, sacks of flour, crates of eggs, and various other provisions heaped beneath them, and pots, pans, and numerous cooking utensils hung from hooks and filled wooden barrels.

Tarzan carefully approached and opened a cupboard that was half-full of metal dining plates, and placed Tora carefully on the bottom shelf.

“Now, balu, listen to me.” He said in the gorilla language so that the small child would better understand. “I want you to stay here. I’m going to get your Mama, and then we’ll come back and get you, okay?”

“Why do I have to stay here?” Tora replied.

“Its just incase there’s any danger. You have to hide here, so stay quiet.”

Tora tilted her head to one side and squinted one eye, watching the somewhat concerned face of her father. After a little while, she continued,

“Well…what if someone finds me?”

Tarzan’s stomach made an unpleasant flip-flopping feeling at the thought of what would happen to Tora if she were found by one of the soldiers.

“Just stay quiet, balu, and nobody will hear you.” He said, firmly. She nodded obediently, and raised her hand, wiggling her fingers in farewell as he closed the cupboard. Following this, he moved out of the building and toward another, also wooden, but without windows.

It was the evening of the same day that Alexio had been executed. His cage was empty now, the blood cleaned up, his body probably burned unceremoniously just outside the parameter fence to prevent the unpleasant smell of smoldering flesh to invade the camp. Tarzan, carefully sneaking underneath the elevated floor of the shack on his back, found what he had hoped to look for: loose wooden floorboards. He gently pushed up against one, trying not to make too much noise, and had eventually removed enough to leave a small gap, sizeable enough for him to fit through.

Tarzan crouched at the edge of a cage, his heart beating quickly as he gazed without speech at the forlorn little creature curled up in the corner.

Then his voice returned to him.

“Jane?”

She had not heard him enter. Lethargically, she slowly raised her head as if unsure that she had heard anything at all. For if that sound had been what it seemed, then it could only have been a dream, and she was almost on the point of lowering her face back down into her hands when she heard him again.

“Jane, it’s me.”

This time she turned, and her swollen eyes rested on his worried face, gazing back at her.

“Tarzan?” She choked. He held out his arms towards her though the bars.

“Jane…”

But it was not until she had crawled forward and lay in his tight and loving hold that she lost herself to uncontrollable tears.

“Tarzan…Tarzan…” It seemed the only word she could manage in those few moments, as she clung to him and pressed herself as close as she could manage to feel the warmth of his body though the bars, despite the fact that the poorly-ventilated room was already stifling hot.

Tarzan murmured her name as he kissed her head and face and arms, tears of relief swelled in his eyes and slid down his cheeks.

“My love, I thought you were dead.” Jane whispered, then kissed him as his lips came to hers, damp and sweet, and she felt that in truth she had died and reached paradise with her spectral love who waited there for her.

“Darling,” she murmured, as their mouths parted and she rested her head against his chest. “I could not be sure that you are not dead, and I too, but that I can hear your beating heart, dear.”

“I promise you that we are both alive, sweetheart. I have missed you terribly.” Tarzan whispered back, his face buried in her hair.

“And I you. Tarzan-” Jane turned and looked up into his face, fear had crept back into her eyes. “Tarzan, where’s my little girl? Tell me……tell me where she is?”

But even before he answered her the reassurance on his face told her that it was all right.

“She’s fine, Jane, she’s…wonderful. I hid her somewhere safe, and I told her to wait for us to come back and find her.” He smiled. “She can’t wait to see you.”

“Thank you, Lord.” Jane whispered to herself with closed eyes. Tarzan kissed her forehead fondly. “Are you sure she’s safe, alone? She’s only a child.” Said Jane.

“She can handle it.”

Jane nodded slowly.

“Are you alright, Jane? Your eye…you were hit, weren’t you?” He gently traced two fingers over the dry blood and blackened bruising around her eye socket.

“I’m alright, love.” She smiled.

Tarzan chuckled. “I would carry you home if I had to.”

Jane put a hand on his cheek and drew his face towards hers to kiss him.

“Tarzan, the Germans are planning to take over our home. They kidnapped Tora and I to lure you away and capture you…you have to stop them!” She said.

“I’m going to get you out of here first.” Tarzan said. He gripped a metal bar in each hand and pulled them outward with all his strength, but the bars showed no sign of weakness.

“You’ll have to find the keys, Tarzan.”

“Where are the keys?”

Jane closed her eyes briefly in the fearful memory of him.

“The Colonel…he’s the head of this camp. Tarzan, please be careful. He’s dangerous.” She said, placing a gentle hand on his chest. Tarzan glanced towards the door, a thoughtful frown on his face.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon. You know I’ll be fine.” He muttered, turning again to kiss her forehead, then making a start towards the door on all fours. Jane smiled weakly at him.

“The last time you said that to me I didn’t see you for a week, my daughter was taken from me and a wounded soldier told me you were dead.”

Tarzan halted, and turned back to her with a look of mingled pity and affection on his striking features.

“I’m so sorry Jane. I made that mistake once. I’m not going to make it again.” He kissed her once more upon her lips. “I love you, Jane.”

“I love you too, Tarzan. More than anything.” She said, softly.

“Jane…you said a soldier told you I was dead. What was his name again?”

Jane nodded slightly, as she knew that he knew. “Alexio Fidel. He said he had met you…that you rescued him from the tribe that took Tora.”

“Is he…?”

Jane nodded, sadly.

“He is dead. Berlin - the Colonel - killed him.” She said. Tarzan looked downward at the floor. “You know…if it weren’t for him, I would be the one dead. He persuaded Berlin to take him instead of me.”

Tarzan nodded slowly.

“Yes…he swore to me that he would do everything he could to help me save you.” He said, and looked up to meet her solemn face. “And I’m not going to let his sacrifice go to waste. I’m going to get you out of here, and we’ll all go home safely.”

Jane nodded.

“I know.”

“I’ll get the keys.” Said Tarzan, kissing her forehead one final time, and turning to leave the building.

“Please be careful.” Jane breathed silently, as he disappeared once more through the hole in the floor.


Chapter 10

The camp had just finished eating supper, and there was a clattering of metal plates being collected and the sound of benches being dragged across dirt. And loud talking, as most of the soldiers made their way to their tents, and a few others prepared to stand guard for their part of the night shift.

It was at this point that the unconscious guard was discovered.

“ALARM! ALARM! There is an intruder in the camp!”

The alarm bell was ringing wildly and in a matter of moments and the camp was roused and searching. Though he couldn’t understand a word of the shouting babble spreading though the area Tarzan knew that his presence there was no longer hidden. It was only a matter of time before he would be caught.

Staying low to the ground, he moved as inconspicuously as possible past the short row of wooden buildings, and toward the stationed trucks. The canvas at the back of one was loose and he slipped inside into the dark, and contemplated what he should do next. He could hear a louder voice shouting what were probably instructions, and the running sound of hundreds of feet on dirt, and then suddenly the canvas was snatched aside to reveal two men with pistols.

Tarzan sprang from the darkness and slammed into one of them at great speed, thrusting him backwards. He kicked his foot into the back of the second, who fell forwards into the truck. The first man, who was winded, commenced a choked yell for help, but Tarzan rolled backwards squashing his chest, and he stopped yelling in favor of turning purple.

Unfortunately the commotion had already attracted too much attention, and more pistol-wielding and rifle-bearing Germans came galloping towards their truck. A bullet ricocheted off the metal framework and buried itself in the ground; another ripped through the canvas and shattered the glass of the front windscreen. Tarzan backed cautiously into the truck with the men advancing on him. They had lowered their guns but one or two flourished gleaming combat knives, which they had drawn from inside their uniforms, and they were all grinning maliciously.

Then the first two men lunged at Tarzan, who caught one around the back of the head with a turning kick that toppled him into the other, but as he did so he was waylaid by the remaining five who caught him about the arms and slammed him front-first into the metal interior.

But at that moment the camp around them went into uproar. There was shouting and screaming and shooting as the tone of ruthless determination in the Germans’ cries turned into that of shock and panic. “ALARM! WE ARE UNDER ATTACK!” Tarzan struggled and the men, off guard, released him. They made little effort to catch him again, on the contrary the few at the back jumped out of the truck and disappeared. Tarzan fought those remaining towards the canvas opening and escaped onto the roof of the truck, and surveyed the new situation. Men in sand-yellow uniforms were flooding into the camp brandishing swords and guns, hundreds of men, setting upon the shocked and unsuspecting Germans as if it were the reason for their existence. And Tarzan watched, and grinned to himself.

“Alexio’s friends.”

The Portuguese Army had finally arrived.

Colonel Baron Karl von Berlin had stepped out of his hut as soon as he had heard the shout of ‘intruder!’ and had directed the search. Now he stared about in mild horror as his camp disintegrated into turmoil around him. He noticed Tarzan catapult three soldiers out of the back of a truck and then launch himself with ease onto the roof, and the German Colonel made an accurate assumption as to who that golden-skinned demi-God was.

“So, you are not dead after all, Tarzan of the Apes. Well perhaps this late-coming can be of some use to me.”

*~*~*~*

Throughout this turmoil, good little Tora sat in her cupboard and listened to the commotion taking place outside. She was far more intelligent than she was given credit for, really, and at this moment she was very worried for the safety of her father. He had been gone for a very long time.

There was a sound. She heard the door of the kitchen open, someone run though, and then out again. After a few moments it happened again. Then again. It had been the men searching for Tarzan.

Suddenly the cupboard doors were flung open, and there appeared the face of a very surprised German soldier.

“Uh-”

But he did not manage to form the end of that sentence, as a metal plate hit his face so hard that it bent itself over the contours of its features, and he fell backwards onto the sink, unconscious. Tora, still holding the deformed dish in her little hand looked down at him to check that he was not moving, and then she dropped from the shelf down onto the counter, and sprang onto the man’s chest with the fluidity of a small chimp.

She briefly inspected him - breathing, bleeding through the nose and lip - and then removed the spiked metal helmet from his head and placed it on her own like some badge of victory.

“Ka-goda?”

*~*~*~*

Jane sat anxiously inside her cage, holding onto the bars and nervously watching the door. She had listened to the action of the camp outside and was almost certain that Tarzan had been discovered. She had only just found him again, and refused to surrender to the idea that she had lost him once more, already.

Why had any of this had to happen?

Suddenly the door swung open violently and the room was filled with the orange glow of sunset. Jane looked up readily, expecting to see the face of her beloved, but she shrank back in terror when she recognized the horrible face of Karl von Berlin, a pistol in one hand and his keys in the other.

“Get up.” He snarled. Jane obliged, but still retreated away from him until her back met with the interior of the cage. Karl unlocked it and lifted the bars, and then aggressively grabbed her by one arm and pulled her out with a forceful tug. Jane sobbed in fright and pain as she was dragged outside, her eyes unadjusted to even weak daylight.

She wondered what was going on as Karl led her roughly past the huts and tents, but then she sighted her husband who was fighting off soldiers, and impulse got the better of her.

“Tarzan!” She screamed. Karl now had his arm about her neck and held the gun to the side of her head. Tarzan turned, and he froze.

“Release Jane!” He shouted. Karl grinned somewhat madly.

“Take me out of the camp safely, and I won’t shoot her!” He said. Tarzan approached him slowly.

“You won’t shoot her. If you do, then I will have no reason to help you.” He said. Karl cocked the gun with his thumb threateningly, and Jane whimpered in fear. She gazed pleadingly at Tarzan as tears slid down her cheeks.

“It’s your choice, ape-man! I don’t have to kill her to hurt her, you know!” Said Karl. He tightened his hold around Jane’s neck, forcing her head backwards and making her choke.

“Tarzan! Please!” She closed her eyes and tried to calm her shattered nerves. “Tarzan, he’ll kill us both…go - get Tora and take her somewhere safe.”

Tarzan ignored her, continuing his slow advance towards Karl.

“I will lead you out of the camp, but if you hurt Jane I will kill you.” He said, glaring. Karl smiled unpleasantly.

“Fine. But don’t try anything stupid or I will hurt her, and I know you do not want that.”

“If you hurt her I will kill you.”

“Just get on with it!” Growled Karl.

Tarzan led him along the back of the huts, dispersing any soldiers, both German and Portuguese, until they had reached the fence and crossed it.

“You can escape from here. Now release Jane.” Said Tarzan. Karl grinned.

“I don’t think so, my naïve young ape-man. I had you tempted out of your lair to get you out of the way, and I don’t really want you pursuing me into the jungle, now do I?”

He pointed his pistol at Tarzan’s head.

“Any last words you have to say to your wife?” He bent his head and kissed Jane’s neck. “I’m going to enjoy her company, you know.”

Jane shuddered and whimpered in fear and loathing, and Tarzan released a snarl of fury.

“Nothing? Have it your way…” Karl said casually, carefully aiming the barrel at Tarzan’s face.

“Tarzan…” Jane whispered miserably.

Karl’s finger pressed slowly down on the trigger. But suddenly something came hurtling through the air out of nowhere and connected with the back of his head with a clang. There was a loud bang as the bullet shot out of the gun but it buried itself in a tree trunk about a foot to Tarzan’s left. Karl spun around, still clutching Jane painfully, and pointed the gun up towards a tree behind him, where little Tora crouched preparing to hurl another plate.

Karl ducked the second attack, and bellowed with rage as he aimed the gun and fired twice up at the little child, who disappeared out of sight. "Filthy jungle vermin! No one attacks me and lives!" Shouted Karl distracted by the sudden move made on him. Jane screamed in grief, but in a split second Tarzan had jumped on Karl and knocked him to the ground.

Karl cried out in surprise, dropping both Jane and the gun, which fell to the side and he struggled roughly in attempt to remove the ape-man from him but he was too strong. The German gripped Tarzan’s shoulders and pulled him sideways, and Tarzan forced his elbows into the inside of Karl’s arms and broke his hold, bending him backwards until he toppled off. Karl made a dashing crawl towards his gun, but Tarzan kicked his legs out from under him and Karl fell forwards on the earth.

Tarzan sprang onto Karl’s back and put one arm under his neck, and the other over the back, and began to pull upwards.

Jane sat in a state of numb paralysis at the side of the struggle.

“Tora…”

Then, abruptly, her focus snapped back into place as realized what Tarzan was about to do to Karl. The monster did not deserve life, but Tarzan did not deserve to have fought this far and be left only with Karl’s blood on his hands.

“Tarzan! Stop, don’t kill him!” Jane cried out suddenly in horror. Tarzan paused. Then he tightened the arm under Karl’s neck and pulled back again gently. And suddenly Karl’s body went limp. He was unconscious.

“I wasn’t going to kill him.” Said Tarzan, releasing the colonel and standing up. Jane stood up and ran forwards into his arms, and burst into tears.

“My little girl…I want my little girl…”

Tarzan gritted his teeth in pain, trying his hardest to be strong for her. He held Jane tightly against him as her body convulsed with the pangs of grief, and he could not prevent a few tears welling up and escaping down his own cheeks.

Through salty, stinging eyes he gazed wretchedly at the tree where his daughter had vanished. And then he saw something that made him suddenly feel frozen.

“Jane…look…”

He gently gripped her arms and turned her so that she could see. Jane gasped involuntarily.

Tora, alive and unharmed, gazed out nervously from behind the tree, bearing a spiked metal helmet that was marked twice with the impact of a bullet.

“Tora.” Jane choked, leaving the arms of her husband and falling to her knees beside the child, whom she snatched up into a tight hug. “Oh my little baby.”

“Mama?”

Jane withdrew slightly from the child’s body so that she could see her face. Tora glanced at Tarzan, who was grinning almost proudly behind Jane. Tora seemed to be struggling for the words. At length she began speak, slowly.

“Will Daddy be mad at me? Because I didn’t stay hided like he told me to. Is he mad at me, Mama?”

Jane turned to look up at her smiling husband, and she laughed good-naturedly.

“No. Your Daddy isn’t mad at you, sweetheart. He’s very proud of you.” She stood up, still holding Tora, and returned to her husband’s arms. “And so am I.”

*~*~*~*

The Portuguese soon made a quick and easy victory over the Germans, and Colonel Baron Karl von Berlin was arrested in ball-and-chain, along with his surviving officers and soliders. They were destined to be shipped by sea back to Portugal from Luandra, the where they would be tried and imprisoned for attacking the nation's colonial territory for the rest of the war.

Tarzan, Jane and Tora, finally reunited, embarked on the long journey home. But not before erecting a small memorial to one loyal Portuguese soldier and friend, in the trees a sort distance away from the now demolished camp.

They traveled only by morning and afternoon, stopping to sleep every night and resting at high noon every day. And Tarzan would hold Jane’s hand and look at her curiously after they had been walking all morning without pause, and ask,

“Are you sure you don’t mind having Tora walk for so long at a time? She’s only little.”

And Jane would look down at her little daughter marching faithfully and happily beside her, and say fondly,

“I think she can handle it. Can’t you sweetheart?”

[limulan]

great story so far

[Jane]

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