Sickening. That sight had been insane. The violence with which those men had laid into the apeman. Animals! Mad beasts. A wonder he was still alive at the end.
And the cold-heartedness with which this chief had chillingly witnessed the mind-blowing brutality. Not just witnessed .. organised it. Maybe this Tarzan had pissed them off about something .. but this was not justice. This was worse than murderous revenge.
Donovan had not signed up for this. They had done a deal .. warriors to take the treasure in return for capturing Tarzan. He hadn’t given a shit what the chief wanted him for. The deal was mutually beneficially. But they hadn’t planned on viewing something like this .. this savagery.
And this mindless barbarity was universal, they were all party to it. These onlookers .. simple black natives, done nothing, been nowhere in all of their lives .. they had been transmuted. Into fucking slavering animals. Rabid wild dogs. Those last few yards, they’d dragged the sucker on his back. Throttled by that noose. A firestorm lashing out at his bare body, helpless. Ordinary men become howling beasts. Gnashing their teeth. A blood-bath. The last moments of a dog-hunt when the pack of hounds get their teeth into the beast. Snarling. Women screaming for more. Slavering monsters. Gone mad with hate. Donovan almost expected to see them foaming at the mouth. Disgusting. Rabid dogs.
But not the chief. Through that screeching firestorm of maddening brutality, he stood chillingly cold at the end of the line. The best seat in the house. Seeing every blow thwacking into Tarzan’s muscled shoulders. Catching the sting of every strike pinging through the apeman’s hard-packed flesh. Chillingly cold. Not a flicker of emotion. Deaf to the screeching of wild beasts. His gaze eating up every wince of pain that lashed across Tarzan’s face. Unemotional. No reaction to the cheers of triumph when Tarzan fell. Not joining in the sickening screams at seeing Tarzan dragged throttled on his back. Cold. Ice-chillingly cold.
What the fuck this Tarzan had done …..? What crime he had committed against them ..…? Murder? Rape? Mass killings? What was worse than that? To warrant this universal hate?
Donovan would happily have withdrawn when the hate-filled mob followed Tarzan into a cave. Tarzan couldn’t stand. Grabbed by his arms, he was being dragged, legs trailing behind. If there was any justice in the world, Donovan hoped he had passed out. Giving his tortured body a break.
This was sickening. And the blood-mad tribe was now shoving and jostling their way into the cave. Barging to get the best place to see. Blood racing .. pushing to follow Tarzan’s lifeless body. Elbowing their way into the cave. Keen to get the view. Howling like blood-crazed animals. Eager for more.
What the fuck were they doing here, him and Reilly? What the fuck had they got themselves into?
Donovan held back .. hoping they’d get overlooked in this maddened frenzy .. make a run for their boat. Hoping they’d get ignored in this melee of madness .. get the hell out of there. Reilly, he knew, had his heart set on a fuck-fest once all this was done. But Donovan was convinced this sight could override the wild urgings that were prickling in Reilly’ pants.
But no chance. No escape. The mob was still crowding around the wide entrance to the cavern .. a log-jam, so much blood-lust intent on not missing a moment .. busting a gut to witness more of this apeman’s pain. But the pair of minders assigned to them .. suddenly they had multiplied. Six muscle-heads were now around them. Taking away the empty bowls of strong booze. Beckoning Donovan and Reilly to join in the party. Gesturing to enter in a way that did not allow for making a run for it.
Donovan wanted out of this. But he didn’t fancy his chances at turning these muscle-heads down.