Darkest Jungle
By Paul Melniczek

* * * *

Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree,
Counting all the monkeys he can see,
Stop, kookaburra, stop, kookaburra,
That’s not a monkey, that’s me, ha, ha, ha!

- Excerpt from “Kookaburra,” old children’s song

A warm, dry breeze blew through the window, stirring the papers that sat on the desk. Jack looked up and yawned, stretching lean arms behind his head. It was a pleasant afternoon, and he was growing accustomed to the heat of the Australian summer. Gazing outside, he watched a group of young girls scamper across the street, laughing and jumping as they recited the words to a whimsical children’s tune.

“The good old days, no deadlines or worries, if only I had known back then.” A broad grin appeared on his good-natured face as he remembered his own childhood in Virginia. He was a long way from home.

The ringing of the telephone broke him out of his wistful reverie and he picked up the receiver.

“Good day, mate, Jack Rogers.” There was a low chuckle from the caller.

“That’s really funny, Jack. Down under for a few weeks and you think you can own all our habits, now. You can do better than that, I hope.”

Laughing, Jack replied “Richard, you scoundrel, shattered all my false illusions that I can fit in. That hurts.”

“Oh, you have no problem fitting in anywhere, my friend. I’m the last one to remind you of that. You journalists are an interesting breed.”

Jack leaned back in his swivel chair. “And you’re not much different. Can’t call you quite a journalist, but being an historian and novelist doesn’t put you too far off the map. So what’s on your mind, got some leads for me?”

Talking with his long time colleague always put Jack in a good mood. The two had met at an archaeological convention in Nevada, and became fast friends. It was a coincidence that brought them both to the same continent now. Richard was researching material for his latest book, and Jack was on assignment from his employer, a magazine featuring travel destinations.

“You don’t want to send people on vacation where I’m at, I’m afraid. It’s the fringe of the outback. Actually, if you can spare the time to come and see me, some interesting, or should I say unusual, things have happened.”

“Oh, like what?” Richard was normally very serious about his work, and Jack sense that something important was bothering his friend.

“Well, there’s been some people missing in the surrounding towns.”

“That is unusual, do they have any clues?”

“More than clues,” Richard responded, his voice dropping to a hoarse whisper. “A few bodies have turned up.”

“Doesn’t sound good,” Jack answered. “What else?” 

A pause.

“They were badly mutilated, torn apart.”

“That’s horrible, Richard. What did they find? Some wild animal? Croc? But what could do this to several people?”

“No, no. Definitely not a Croc. They were found in the jungle, not even near the water. There’s a lot of activity here, and some really strange stories floating about.”

“I guess it’s understandable to be concerned, but you don’t research murders.”

Richard coughed. “Yes, but there’s more to this. Can you get away for a bit?”

“Why not? I’m almost done with my article, and I have over a week left before I return. Maybe I can dig up something else for my own work.” Jack had published several stories on tropical birds, and took advantage of every chance to find new information on his projects.

“Fine, I need your advice on something I’ve discovered. It’s odd, but it might relate to these killings in some way.”

It was a strange thing to say, and Jack felt a twinge of anxiety, although he didn’t know why. “All right, do me a favor. Fax me directions, and I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”

“Great, will do.” Richard hung up and Jack stared out the window again, his earlier euphoria replaced with a twinge of unease.

“Hey, Linda! Check this out.”

The lizard was perched on a rock, and Mark Reynolds couldn’t ask for a better pose. He carefully snapped the lens off of his camera, getting ready to take the picture. His wife had wandered off in the brush to his left in search of some exotic parrots.

Linda failed to respond, and Mark looked up. The lizard disappeared. “Oh damn, missed a good one. Linda?”

Mark sighed, a frown appearing on his bearded face. It was unlike his wife to leave for any amount of time by herself. One could never be too confident in the outback. It dawned on the photographer then how peculiar the jungle had become. The normal sounds of the birds and forest life were gone. All noise had ceased.

Mark thought he could hear his own heartbeat.

“Linda, where are you?”

The words fell mute on the slumbering forest. Uneasiness crept over the man, the first indication that something was wrong. Turning in the direction where Linda went, he decided to go after his wife. If Linda got into trouble, Mark knew that she would call for him. His trepidation continued to grow. He cursed softly as he Pushed through the thick undergrowth and got scratched by sharp thorns. Soon he entered a clearing, and scanned the area for signs of his wife.

Nothing moved.

Walking forward, his footsteps sounded loud and penetrating. ”Linda?” he called, his chest tight. The silence was maddening. Mark felt as though he had stumbled into a setting of tranquil surrealism where he was the invader. Without warning, a high-pitched sound broke through the quiet. Mark shivered at the noise - the otherness. At first, he thought it was hysterical laughing, diabolical and bizarre, but realized immediately that it couldn’t possibly be human.

The bushes exploded directly behind him and Mark whirled in surprise.

His eyes grew wide in fear as a dark figure leapt from the concealing thickets, a brief scream of terror leaving his gaping mouth as he caught a glimpse of the attacker. Mark didn’t have time for another thought.

The following afternoon found Jack driving down a dirt road that led to Richard’s place, two miles from the town of Bayhare. The forest looked deep and ominous at the roadside. Tangled thickets and lush plants bordered the rough driveway. After three hours and one or two wrong turns, he was more than ready to be off the road but that wasn’t too much of a problem. As he passed the last town there were a number of police vehicles scattered about, some eyeing his pickup with interest.

Jack feared that he may be stopped for questioning by the stares he received, but nothing occurred. There was no doubt that an extensive manhunt was being conducted. A single-story house appeared and Richard was, jumping up from his hammock as Jack pulled up. The home was modest, but Richard was short on time for physical comforts. A loner, and engulfed with his work, the forty-year old historian clung to his one burning passion in life, embracing it without any regrets.

“Found me. Good man.” Richard called out as he walked to the truck.

Jack stopped his truck and shook hands with his friend, finding the grip callused and firm.

“You certainly have your privacy out here,” Jack said as he eyed the short expanse of unkempt grass around the house that was edged by dark woods.

“Sure do. I can’t be bothered by door-to-door salesmen, you know.”

Jack laughed at the thought of anyone soliciting this far into the outback.

“You were right, there’s police everywhere.”

They found more bodies this morning. Heard it when I ran into town earlier. Only a couple miles away, in fact. A young couple doing some photography. Not much left of them.” 

There was an uncomfortable pause. “And also a minister.”

Jack’s throat felt dry. “That’s horrendous. Thanks for inviting me.”

He peered into the brush, half expecting to see a crazed lunatic leap out with a chain saw.

“No, they weren’t that close before. This has me worried now. Very worried. Come on inside.”

Tropical birds chattered away as Jack followed his friend into the house. He tried to picture the birds, listening to each unique call.

“Have a seat. I’ll get us some drinks. This place has its own generator, so I don’t lack for much.”

The air was cool and Jack sat down on a wooden chair that accompanied a small sofa. There was a table in the middle of the room filled with manuscripts and notes. Piles of magazines and books were scattered all around. Moments later, Richard returned with two tall glasses of iced tea, and handed one to Jack. Both men drank deeply then Jack asked,

“You’ll be staying here for a while yet, right?” Richard shook his head in response.

“That depends on several things.”

“Oh. Well just make sure I get a discount on the hard cover.” Jack smiled at his friend, but Richard looked grim as he stared out the front window.

“Of course you’re wondering about our conversation, and why I wanted to see you.”

“Actually, forgot all about it. Was it to bring me here and taste your sun brewed tea?” Jack raised his glass in mock salute.

“I wish it were just that.”

Richard reached for a book from the table, an old text fraying at the edges. “What I have read in here has frightened me beyond anything else I can recall.”

His eyes were shadowed, and for the first time Jack noticed the dark circles around his eyes.

“Dug this up at an old church, a few towns east of here. Names and people are unimportant, but needless to say I wanted it pretty badly after seeing what was inside.”

Jack pursed his lips, listening to Richard and glancing down at the old tome.

“This was kept in the minister’s house for a long time. Was there from the previous caretaker, and who knows how much longer. I happened to stop by his church, and explained to him my work and asked for hints to point me in the right direction. You know me, not afraid to ask questions.”

“All too well,” said Jack. “So what about this book? You’ve got me hanging on my seat.” His attempt at humor fell short, for his friend grew increasingly more nervous.

“Contains a fantastic story, concerning an ancient folklore told by inhabitants in this neck of the woods. All new to me. I offered to buy it from him.”

“That’s not so bad,” replied Jack. After seeing the grimace on Richard’s face, his own look turned sour. “You didn’t steal it, did you?”

“No, no, of course not. I did pressure him to sell it, though. Said that it would be of great interest to authorities, and they might come looking at some point in time.” He shook his head. “The minister had a drinking problem, needed money. But he did mention something about the book being in his care, and something about “old fairy tales,” and “what did it matter” to him.”

“That is pretty bad, a priest yet,” replied Jack. “Why don’t you return the thing?”

“Believe me, I wish I could. But that’s impossible now. I just found out that he was one of the victims. The first.”

Spider-chills crept down Jack’s spine as he listened in horror.

“I needed to talk to you, I have no one else. You might think I am mad, but the book speaks of an old evil.”

Richard bowed his head.

“The legend has it that a great jungle demon used to prowl the countryside in ages past. When it was near, the forest would grow silent. Animals and birds alike would disappear.”

“Sounds like a lot of other superstitious tales I’ve heard before,” replied Jack.

“Well, there was a distinctive sound if the beast was near. A strange, hellish laughter, or that’s what’s described, at least.”

“Creepy. You’re beginning to scare me.” The remark was only partly in jest, as Jack’s unease grew. .

“There’s an odd connection to a jungle bird too, the laughing kookaburra. That’s up your alley.”

“Yeah, it’s known for having a weird call, similar to someone laughing.” Jack finished the tea, but his throat was still parched.

“This demon was called Koogabar, a close rendition to the bird’s name. According to the book, the old children’s song Kookaburra is actually a translation from a much older, and more sinister prose of warning. Listen to this.”

Richard opened the book, searching for a particular page.

“Here it is, I’ll read the phrase.”

Koogabar waits under the old gum tree,
He lurks there in shadow, waiting for me,
Hide, run away and hide,
Koogabar is coming for you and me.

Jack felt chills as he listened to Richard whisper the words. “That is weird, unnerving really.”

“And that’s not the worst of it. Listen.” Richard continued.

Koogabar sleeps under the old gum tree,
Pray he doesn’t wake, pray he doesn’t see,
Now we can be safe, our children will be safe,
Only the hidden charm can set him free.

Richard pulled a metal strap from behind the book. It had once secured the ancient binding, but Jack could see it was now broken.

“There was a small sculpture bolted onto the fastening. I broke it to open the text.” His next words sent chills through Jack.

“I’m terrified that I unlocked something else too.”

In his hand was a small object, the molding of some unspeakable creature.

The night breeze was cool and gentle on his skin as Jack looked out into the dark woods. After Richard had shown him the talisman that sealed the book, he then became unreachable, something totally out of character. He said a few words about attaching the charm, but it needed to be done in a precise way, according to the text.

Richard dismissed himself, going to the workshop in the small shed that sat behind the house. He gave Jack the run of the place if he stayed, but at the same time encouraged him to leave. Despite Jack’s insistence on perusing the book in greater detail with him, Richard adamantly refused. “I don’t want to involve you any more,” he said. “Maybe I shouldn’t even have asked you here. I pray that I haven’t made a horrible mistake.”

Jack had argued with him, stating that there were some strange coincidences, but they should think things out together. And now here he was, in the guest room, staring at the lighted workshop Richard had retreated into. The air conditioning system shut down after sunset, and Jack had opened the window to let the freshness inside. Night birds called in the distance, along with the drones and chirping of mating insects.

Jack was puzzled by his friend’s odd behavior, but also disturbed. He didn’t believe in any mythical beasts roaming the modern world, but feared only the human animals that walked the earth. The murders, by all description, were abominable. No wonder Richard felt guilty after hearing of the minister’s demise. He was blaming himself because of the book. Jack turned around and poured a glass from the tea pitcher that had he filled earlier. The cold liquid quenched his thirst, but did nothing to sort out the mixture of emotions he felt.

He lay down on the single bed, closing his eyes and taking in the soothing sounds of the wilderness outside as he drifted off.

Jack woke from sleep, disorientation seizing his mind in those first waking moments. Confused, he leaned on his elbow and remembered where he was. He yawned, and sat up at the edge of the bed. The house was quiet, and he looked outside.

A pale, bloated moon cast its muted, silvery radiance on the sleeping jungle. High clouds encircled the celestial body, and a brisk wind whipped the shrouded trees bordering the property. Outside, everything was quiet. Jack felt tension in his chest, and chided himself for being foolish. But the night was void of the normal jungle sounds. His gaze swept the backyard of the home. Dim light still flickered out from the shed. Richard must be at work yet, Jack thought.

A growing dread crept over him as the solitude of the verging wilderness pressed in - mostly untamed, treacherous, harboring secrets unknown to man. Tales of unspeakable horrors that once roamed the world filled his mind. These were ideas that seemed like folly in the bright sun of the day, but now took shape in the primeval darkness, ever the source of mankind’s hidden nightmares. At that moment, Jack felt more insignificant and alone than he could ever have imagined.

And then he heard it, reverberating from far away, deep in the jungle; a high-pitched cackling.

It sounded like insane laughter.

Jack’s blood ran cold. Every fiber of his body tingled with fear. This wasn’t happening. It was in his mind. The laughter pierced the night once more, closer.

He couldn’t take his eyes off the fringe of the tree line. His hands gripped the bottom of the window as he squinted into the woods. Jack’s mind screamed a silent warning, but the sound was mesmerizing. The laughter became clearer.

Watching in disbelief, he saw a darker shadow moving through the trees. His chest grew tighter as he held his breath. He couldn’t make out any features, but that left everything to his imagination, and the tiny sculpture. Jack’s head swam, his heart felt ready to burst.

Only the fantastic nightmares of a terrified child, wakened from dark visions, could have compared to the heinous phantoms that raged in his mind’s eye. Slowly, the shape came forward, heading straight for the shed.

Jack’s clothes were soaked in cold sweat, his cotton shirt heavy and wet. His blackest fears couldn’t have formed a ghastlier shade than what he now saw. Standing on two legs, the beast walked like a man but that is where any likeness ended.

The creature had tufts of fur around its muscular body, a white crest on the horned head. Two horrible front limbs were held high, wielding talons of wicked claws. A gaping mouth revealed flashes of ivory fangs, opening wide as if to draw in a huge breath of air. It was a monster beyond words and understanding, spawned in another plane of existence. It couldn’t possibly exist, except in fantasy.

The tormented sound broke from its maw; a hideous laughing that was pure evil. Jack was frozen in horror, helpless to save himself or his friend. Raising a curled foreleg, the creature crashed into the door of the shed and uttered its foul cry as Jack felt a grip over his mouth and a weight shoving him to the ground.

“Shh, shh, it’ll hear us.” Fighting instinctively against his attacker, he realized that it was Richard behind him and he stopped.

His friend’s terrified eyes burned into his own. “Let’s go, I left a piece of the charm in my truck. If I can get to it, we might be able to send this demon back to whatever pit it came from.” Richard gripped the book tightly in a vise-like hold, his knuckles white from the strain. They hurried through the bedroom and entered the hall. The house was quiet.

“I think the beast is drawn to the book, and wants to destroy the text before I can banish it again.”

The two men crept along the wall, and Jack couldn’t erase the image of the demon that lurked outside. They paused at the front door, and Richard carefully opened it, sticking his head out.

“Not here yet, let’s hope it stays in the shed and doesn’t cut us off.”

The words sent visions through Jack’s mind of being torn apart by the demon. “There’s a little bracelet that has to snap over the talisman. The book explained all. Help me find it when we reach the …”

Around the front of the porch appeared a huge shadow, palpable evil emanating from the air itself. A diabolical cry from the hunting creature shattered the night air, devastating the moral fabric of the two men crouching in fear.

Richard slammed the door shut, locking the bolt, his eyes wide and hysterical. “Lord, save us from this demon,” he babbled, lips quivering, hands moving in warding off gestures.

“Where’s your rifle?” Jack whispered as he shoved his friend further into the house, pausing in the living room.

“It’s no good, no good.” Richard looked dazed, the terror shredding the man’s sanity. Jack spotted a large mahogany cabinet and walked to it. He opened the cabinet, and pulled out a rifle fixed with a brown scope. Bullets were stashed next to the gun in a storage carton, and he didn’t hesitate in loading the barrel.

“Come on, snap out of it, man!” Jack shouted at his friend, who was now sobbing like a child. “I need you. At least try to help me. Richard!” He finished loading the gun then hurried over to Richard. He slapped the man across the face hard, the stinging rebuke bringing him back to his senses.

“What now?” Jack asked as he stared at the front room, expecting to see the creature return at any moment.

“Our only hope is the bracelet,” Richard mumbled, tears streaming down his face. “Banish the demon once more. It’s in my truck. We need that piece to seal the book.”

“I’d feel safer if we could see that monster. Let’s go upstairs.” Jack went toward the stairs, followed by Richard, who was shaking so hard he had to struggle to even move. They soon gained the stairs, and continued to the next level. The walls of the house were vice-like, suffocating, the tension unbearable. Where was the demon?

It probably waited for them outside, knowing their vulnerability, Jack thought. Was it flesh and blood, able to feel the pain of an injury?

Richard scurried behind him, his head darting back and forth, listening for the inevitable approach of the beast. They went into Jack’s bedroom, throwing the lock and putting a brief barrier of safety between themselves and Koogabar.

Jack peered outside through one of several windows in the room. His eyes scanned the front of the house. Nothing moved among the shadows. The vehicles were tantalizingly close, scant yards away from the building. If they could only reach them.

“Any ideas?” Jack asked but didn’t take his eyes off the yard as he pressed his friend for answers.

“It’s waiting out there, I’m sure,” Richard replied. “Waiting to catch us in the open.”

“But if it is drawn to the book, then why doesn’t the creature come after us now?” Jack stood motionless at the window, craning his neck to check the corner of the home.

“Maybe you’re right,” said Richard. “If the monster fears what we can do, then it should have followed us in. Let’s just pray that it doesn’t realize that a piece of the bracelet is in my truck. If it can sense the charm, we’re doomed.”

The horror of his words sunk deep into Jack’s heart. To unleash such a creature into the world was unthinkable. He fingered the rifle, looking at Richard. “We don’t have too many options here. If that thing comes after us through the house, then we go out the window, and race for the truck like mad. It’s a two story drop, but we can climb down this drain spout.”

Richard appeared uncertain, beads of sweat streaking down his ashen face. “That spouting is old, it might collapse.”

“Well, you’ve gotten me into this forsaken mess, and besides pointing out the fact that a killer demon is chasing us, haven’t done a damn thing to help!”

Jack was frustrated and terrified, snapping at Richard, who stared at his trembling hands, unable to stop them from moving.

“I’m sorry, it’s all my fault. The responsibility and guilt of unleashing that monster is something I have to live with.”

“Well, let’s worry about sending it back to whatever pit it came from, and then we’ll discuss philosophy.” Jack quietly opened the window all the way, poking his head out for a greater vantage.

“I’m going to test the spout, take the rifle in case you hear anything. I don’t think it can scale the walls, wish I knew where it was, though.”

Richard picked up the weapon, and set the book on a small wooden nightstand. He went over to the bedroom door, pressing an ear to the panel. Jack reached over to the spout, shaking it slightly. The fixture felt loose, and the metal supports were rusted. Still, what choice did they have, he thought.

“I hear something.”

Jack froze at the sound of Richard’s tense voice, low and hissing.

Both men were mute statues, all senses keyed on the outside hallway. Jack pointed past the doorway, and a look of confusion appeared on Richard’s face.

The room felt like a coiled trap, ready to spring at any moment. Jack tried to gauge the creature’s next move, but he couldn’t bring himself to act until its location was revealed. Everything was surreal, and the seconds dragged by. Jack felt ready to scream.

All at once, the silence was shattered as the floorboards in the middle of the bedroom exploded in a rage of power.

Richard shouted a warning to Jack, shooting a round at the grotesque abomination that clawed its way upward through a gaping hole of twisted wood and drywall.

“Go! Take the book!”

Several more shots blasted the monster heaving its bulk into the room, but the bullets seemed to have no effect.

An overwhelming stench of sulfur gagged Jack and he grabbed the ancient text as he grasped the spouting, scrambling to control his balance. Koogabar extended its taloned forearms to either side, the opened mouth spewing the horrendous laughter and driving waves of despair into the minds of the two men.

Richard cowered down, pathetic and small against the mighty demon, the rifle clicking uselessly in his hands.

Jack lowered himself, catching a last glimpse of Richard as the monster hugged the man like a cloth puppet, squeezing him into its scaly chest in a crushing embrace. Hearing the scream from his friend nearly dislodged him, and he held onto the spouting, his terrified shaking threatening to drop him to the ground below. He scarcely was beneath the window ledge, and knew he needed to move quickly to escape Richard’s fate.

Inching down, Jack willed himself to remain calm, and breathe deeply. Lowering a few feet, he heard the ghastly sound from above. The demon yapped its foul cry, and battered the side of the drain spout, knocking Jack off as the structure crumbled. He gasped, falling through the air, and turned on his side attempting to cushion the blow.

He landed with a thud, the air was pushed out from his lungs and he winced at the vise of pain in his rib cage, knowing instantly that several bones were broken. Tumbling forward, he staggered to his feet, stooping down to again pick up the book.

Jack refused to look back at the house, all his resolve focused on reaching the truck. Limping ahead, the night was quiet, and he hurried to act, the knowledge of the horrific creature in pursuit all the impetus necessary. He dared not consider the possibility of the truck being locked, and pulled on the door handle, breathing a sigh of relief at finding it open. Jack maneuvered his injured frame inside, his heart dropping as he looked at the empty ignition slot.

The hideous laughter bellowed into the night as the monster stormed through the house. He realized in horror that his own keys were back in the spare bedroom, tucked into his coat jacket.

There was no chance of sneaking past the monster, and the prospect of flight was unthinkable now when he was wounded.

Jack looked at the book, remembering Richard’s words. He rummaged through the truck, searching for the small bracelet. Jack opened the glove compartment, finding nothing. The seats were empty, and Jack listened with dread to the approaching laughter. In desperation, he felt under the driver’s seat, his hand coming to rest on a metal object. 

It was the missing bracelet. Jack held the book, pulling the fastener tight and putting the charm into place. From the corner of his eye, a dark shape moved closer, filling the night with its tortured call.

“Come on,” Jack whispered, struggling to fit the lock. He was out of time.

He ignored the huge figure drawing closer, focusing only on his perspiring hands. Jack’s heart leapt as he snapped the bracelet tight, once again sealing the book. The night crackled outside the truck, and flashes of raw energy sliced through the fabric of air itself as a portal separating dimensions was ripped open.

The monster froze, the deadly claws hovering in the air, inches from the truck.

Fantastic colors blazed through the night, blue, orange, red, mixtures of every hue imaginable, combining in a dazzling frenzy that scorched the ground at the creature’s clawed feet.

Koogabar shrieked in recognition at the spell being woven, uttering its hatred of life, and what was being lost to it once more.

The charm strengthened, churning inevitably to completion, banishing the relentless demon back to its netherworld prison. The hairs on Jack’s arms stood in static attention, and his eyes squinted at the bright display before him. He finally breathed as the air settled, and darkness filled in the momentary gap of space like black ink. There was no sign of the monster.

The ancient spell of warding was finished, and the creature walked the world no longer. 

Tears rolled down Jack’s face at the harrowing escape, along with grief over the loss of his friend. He closed his eyes and rested his head on the steering wheel. There he sat for countless moments, reliving the nightmare, voicing a silent prayer of thanks. He gazed down at the incredibly dangerous book, vowing to make sure human hands never again could access the black secrets contained inside.

Jack left the truck, trudging painfully back to the empty house. 

The normal sounds of night returned, but his mind replayed the horrific visage of the demon, scarring his memory, something he knew would linger there always, never to be erased.

* * * *

Paul Melniczek

Paul Melniczek is a small business owner and a college graduate, with a degree in business management. He also teaches a part time class at a local college, is married with two children. In year 2000 he began writing, and since then has had over seventy stories published or accepted for publication in a wide variety of markets, including print anthologies, print magazines, e-zines, and e-anthologies. Some of these include sales to Fangoria, Black Rose, Cold Storage, and many others.

He is also a musician, playing classical piano and electric guitar. In his free time he enjoys the outdoors, weightlifting, golf, and tennis. Living in the country lends much inspiration to his writing, and he is currently working on another short story collection, a fantasy novel, and a children’s book.