A World Without Heroes
Page 82

“And the bears,” Jason said. “And the skunks. And the girls.”
Jasher laughed, slapping his thigh. He reached up a hand, and Jason hoisted him to his feet. “Take this as a consolation. In the deep swamp there are insects as dangerous as any snake. Be glad you will not make their acquaintance. As for women, I suspect none of us will mind if the Pythoness keeps her distance.”
“I wish I could avoid myself,” Rachel mumbled.
The rising sun dispersed the mists. Rachel and Jason followed Jasher along a meandering route.
At length, with the sun high overhead, Jasher stopped and announced, “Here we are.”
Jason had been focusing on the ground, watching for snakes. He had spotted nine so far. Two were pretty big.
Raising his gaze, he beheld the coast of a black lake, full of tall trees with spreading branches, huge arboreal umbrellas that blocked out most of the sunlight. Leafy vines hung in haphazard loops. Long beards of moss and glossy coats of slime added texture to the dark trunks. Out in the water, islands of filthy mulch and half-drowned logs showed that not all the swamp was submerged, though Jason had no trouble seeing why they would need a boat.
“You know where we are?” Jason asked.
“I think I know where our skiff should be,” Jasher replied.
To reach the water’s edge they weaved around a few reedy pools where cattails protruded like hot dogs on sticks. At one point the sludge became so deep it was almost over the top of Jason’s boots, sucking and slurping with every step.
After reaching the brink of the gloomy swamp, they skirted the murky water for more than a hundred yards. Then Jasher began tearing decayed leaves and creepers off of a low mound by the waterside.
“Here we go,” Jasher said, after stripping off enough vegetable matter to expose the wooden hull of the small vessel. “Help me uncover it.”
Before long they removed the vegetation. Working together, they flipped the skiff right side up. An eight-foot snake uncurled from under the vessel and whipped away into the water, moving in a black blur.
“That was a dangerous one,” Jasher said, staring at the ripples where the snake was lashing across the surface. “Did you notice the red dots behind the head?”
“I barely saw the snake,” Jason said. “That thing was fast!”
“Mud viper. Big one. Be glad we were on land. They’ll attack almost anything in the water. One bite causes paralysis. A few more bring death.”
Jason shuddered.
“Snakes never really freaked me out before,” Rachel said numbly.
“Don’t worry,” Jason said. “Your smell should keep them away.”
“If your smell doesn’t kill them first,” she fired back.
Jasher inspected the skiff from bow to stern. “Looks watertight. Only one way to be sure.”
They pushed it over the muddy bank into the water. “Get in,” Jasher said.
Jason and Rachel stepped over the stern of the broad, shallow vessel.
“Move to the bow and sit down.”
They complied, and Jasher sprang into the skiff, the force of his landing propelling the little craft away from the shore.
The skiff rode low with the three passengers, the gunwale scarcely six inches above the water. Jasher fitted the single long oar into the oarlock at the stern and began deftly sculling the vessel deeper into the swamp.
“Need any help?” Jason asked.
“No. I can do this all day. Better if you two stay in the bow. There is a species of predatory slime that drifts on the surface of the water. It will digest flesh down to the bone. Keep a sharp lookout so I can keep it from attaching to the skiff. It’s yellow-green in color and floats listlessly until it senses prey.”
Jason sat taller, scanning the water ahead. Off to one side he spotted a fat frog squatting on a floating log. Bigger than a rabbit, the frog bulged with warty bumps.
“Big frog,” Jason said.
Jasher snorted.
“They get bigger?” Rachel asked.
“Big enough to prey on men, I am told,” Jasher whispered. “I have never ventured deep enough into the swamp to behold one. Keep a sharp lookout. We should generally avoid speaking. Certain creatures have sharp ears. It would be better if we passed unnoticed.”
Jason nodded. He kept watching the water. The only sounds were the gentle swishing of the scull and the mellow hum of insects. Jason glimpsed many more big frogs, both swimming and squatting. He saw a snake streak through the water, just as the mud viper had, and steal a big, hairy spider off of a tree trunk.
Insects abounded—dragonflies, mosquitos, gnats, water skimmers, and beetles in metallic greens and blues. As Jasher had promised, they kept their distance from the boat.
After some time Jason spotted an amoeboid shape floating in the water ahead, like a huge wad of snot. “I see some slime,” he whispered.
Jasher navigated around it.
As night fell, the swamp blackened. Jasher found a soggy island, and he and Jason hauled the craft out of the water.
“The night is dreadful in the swamp,” Jasher whispered. “Or so I have heard. I am told it is best to stay out of the water and to remain in your boat.”
A deep, resonant croak, almost a bark, sounded somewhere not far behind Jason. He gasped and turned quickly but could see nothing through the murk. Jasher placed a steadying hand on his arm.
“Was that a frog?” Rachel murmured.
The croak was soon answered by another farther off. Before long the swamp was alive with a confused chorus of deep-throated croaking. Some of the croaks were like massive belches, others almost musical, others fierce and threatening.
Jasher moved between Rachel and Jason, whispering softly. “I had heard the night sounds of the swamp were unnerving. Never did I imagine it would be like this.”
“I never imagined frogs freaking me out,” Rachel whispered back.
“Swallow some insect repellant,” Jasher suggested.
Jason and Rachel consumed the gel gratefully.
Soon it became as dark as the bowels of a cave. Jason found that closing or opening his eyes made no difference.
New sounds joined the frog chorus. High-pitched squeals began to warble in long, quavering notes. Low moans like the winding of giant horns drifted over the swamp from far away, as if some immense creature were mourning. A sudden clicking like castanets, sometimes alarmingly close, added a startling rhythm to the cacophony. The relative quiet of the day was utterly forgotten.
“Try to sleep,” Jasher whispered loudly over the increasing din. “I will keep watch.”