Lamia (18 page)

“Maria!” I shouted.

Her eyes fell on the carving and then her face
contorted into
a mask of terror.

“Michael,” she cried.  “I’m frightened!  What’s happening?”

My body became weak as I realised what I had done.  I heard her hysterical screaming as her head was jerked back and the knife was pushed forward, severing the muscles on the left side of her neck.  Then there was a gurgling sound as it was drawn across her windpipe.  She was still alive as another push cut through the muscles on the
right
side
.  A few more strokes of the blade and her body dropped almost to the ground, held by an ever-stretching piece of skin which finally snapped, twanging back to her head as it parted from her body.

The executioner held the head high while two others picked up the body and tossed it on th
e fire, amid
loud cheering.  Then the executioner led a procession, the head still held high.  He finally stopped at the edge of the village and placed the head high in a lemon tree, its wicked thorns
tangling the red-streaked golden hair.
  This was the first time that some of the villagers
had
dared to look upon her face.  Then the crowd returned to the square, leaving two armed men guarding the head.

I collapsed beside a building, propping myself up against
the wall.  My
limbs were weak and I soon began to recognise the signs of shock.  My mouth was dry and I knew that I needed to drink some water.  I struggled back to the room,
for a drink
and to relive memories of the previous night, finally succumbing to the sleep I so desperately needed.

It was getting dark when I awoke.  In my half-awake state I searched the room for Lamia, before the terrible memories of the morning came flooding back.  I stood up, hearing the celebrations outside but feeling peculiarly detached from them.  I must have had some of the Lamia’s strength inside me because my thoughts were both positive and deliberate, as I formulated a plan of attack.

Everybody was drunk and loud as I walked outside.  I took some freshly roasted meat from a table and returned to
the room. 
Sitting at the small wooden table I cut several slivers of wood, placing them in a pile.  Then I cut the meat into cubes and pushed a sliver into each piece, wrapped them in a cloth I kept to wipe my hands, and put them into my pack.  I opened the first-aid kit I had brought with me and put on a pair of latex gloves.  I took the bottle of poison from Lamia’s pack before emptying everything else out of it.  Then I picked up
t
he knife and the two packs and headed for the door.

Once outside I staggered around just like the others.  Nobody notices a drunk stumbling into things, but I had a secret agenda.  They could not get rid of the Lamia that easily!
  My sleeves covered my hands so nobody noticed my gloves or the knife and bottle that I was holding.  I made my way around some of the wooden parts that people would often come in contact with: the backs of chairs, a door handle, the edges of tables etc.  Making sure no one was watching I would make a couple of tiny slits with my knife to create splinters.  Then I poured a few drops of poison over them.  People would die mysteriously in the village that betrayed the Lamia!

I made my way to the edge of the
village, to where the two guards were standing smoking.  I removed two long slivers of wood and dipped them in the poison before replacing the top and putting the bottle in my pocket.  Holding one sliver in each hand I staggered up to the guards.  I pretended to fall and they caught me.  They never felt the pricks in their thighs, but after a moment it was I who was standing and they who were writhing in agony on the ground.

I carefully removed the head and put it in Lamia’s pack.  Then I took out the carved wooden eye and jammed it into a crook in the thorny branches.  Next I took out the bottle and poured a few drops on the thorns around the carving.  Someone would die trying to remove that!

I hurried out of the village, but before I ducked into the trees, I had one final task to complete.
  I removed the cubes of meat containing slivers of wood and lace
d
them with the last few drops of poison.  Hopefully this would prevent the dogs from following me.
 
I knew where I was and so I ran by the light of the moon, knowing that I would not be safe until I reached the lava tube.

Knowing where I was is not the same as knowing where I was going.  The tracks that were so clear in my mind were not the same underfoot and very soon I was hopelessly lost.  There was only one solution; I would have to camp for the night and begin again at first light.

The sun was threatening to rise as I dragged myself from my makeshift bivouac and surveyed my surroundings.  I eventually chose a track that looked familiar and headed along it at a fast pace.  What I eventually saw halted me in my tracks.  Right in front of me was a lemon tree with a carved wooden eye set into it.  I had walked
a
round in a circle!

Once I had recovered from the shock, I realised that my predicament was both good and bad.  Bad because I was so close to danger, but good that I was not lost.  I felt certain that I knew the way
so
I ran once again, but this time I did not dare to stop.

I cannot describe my relief when I saw the rocky wall that housed the entrance to the lava tube.  Neither can I describe my terror at hearing a dog barking not far behind me.  I reached a grassy slope that ended in a sheer drop.
  There I swapped my grisly cargo into my bag and placed a stone in the blood-soaked one.  Then I dragged it down the slope, making certain that the trail was strong.  Here I hurled the bag over the edge where it landed in a bush.  When they saw this I had hoped that they might have thought I had jumped.  Re-tracing my steps carefully I picked up my pack and jumped onto a large flat rock.  Then, hopping from rock to rock I reached the cave, hauled myself up and dropped into the darkness.

It was not long before I heard barking close by.  I pulled myself up and dared to peek out.  Four men but only one dog.  Perhaps my trap had worked!  They looked over the edge and they seemed to be pointing to something.  Then they became angry and set off around the mountain on their long trek down below.

I wound up my torch and made my way down the lava tube.  The journey seemed to last for hours and I remembered Maria running in the darkness with only leaf fronds as cat’s whiskers to guide her.  Finally there was light and as I came to the end of the tube, my heart sank.  There was a vertical drop where the lava had flowed out, smooth and impassable.  Maria had taken a rope with her!

I sat for a few minutes, taking a long drink and trying to decide what to do.  I did not want to go back up the tube but neither could I climb down.  I checked that nobody was around before looking upwards.  Yes, there was a chance of climbing up and getting to some trees growing a little way from the top of the rock.
  It was a stretch but once I got over the first few handholds, the rest was easy.  Then there was a dilemma.  Where do
I
go from here?  My passport was with Samuel and Nissa but I felt certain that the village would be watched.  Then I noticed a familiar rocky outcrop and I had chosen my first port of call.

The climb was not as demanding as I had remembered it and I soon reached the familiar view that I first experienced with Maria.  I removed the head from my pack and jammed it in a crack in a rock, looking out over the forest.  I kissed those grey lips one last time.  It seemed only right that I should leave her in the place where she could survey her realm.

I waited until nightfall before creeping into the village, past two armed guards.  I had disposed of my pack
and
I
managed to slip quietly into Samuel’s house.  They were both sitting reading when I appeared, startling them.  I quickly explained the situation and they were nervous but sympathetic.  I washed and changed my clothes.  They had moved my big pack into their room for security purposes.  Nissa prepared some food for me for which I was grateful.

“I’m running Nissa to the hospital tomorrow,” said Samuel.  “I arranged it to coincide with taking you to the airport.”

“Thanks,” I said.  “The problem is that only two of the men are guarding the village.  I suspect that the other two would be posting a road block and your vehicle is certain to be searched.”

“Then what do you suggest,” asked Nissa.

“Can I rest here for a few hours?  I’ll leave before dawn and make my way down the mountain through the forest.  I’ll get past any road block and you can pick me up along the way.”

They happily agreed with my plan and by lunch time the following day
I was in the air and out of the reach of the drug lords.

Epilogue

I did not go into the family business.  Instead I set up on my own, buying and selling companies.  I made over a million in my first year and twice that in the first three months of my second year.  I use the things Lamia taught me to strike the best deals and I know what power really means.

I still wake up some nights in a cold sweat screaming out the name ‘Maria’, but that is only to be expected.  My fiancée treats it as one of those things from my past that I might explain to her one day.  She does however benefit from some of the stories I tell her while I bring her to orgasm.  She does not know they are true, but with certain embellishments, additions and omissions, they are not absolutely accurate.  I simply use the parts that she responds to and leave out the rest.

So, who was the Lamia?  Was she a vampire?  Did she die that day or was that a young girl called Maria.  If you ever go to Colombia you will find that the name Lamia lives on.  She also lives on within me and I will never forget her.

End

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