Chasing down a ghost
Tarzan felt the two pair of eyes pouring over him. From head to toe. And back up again. Lingering slowly over his torso. He almost expected to see a tongue licking lips. Delectable. He blocked a shiver. What was what they had been captured for? Cannibals?
Two men of authority were eyeing them over. Eager. Tarzan could almost feel the touch of a hand on his chest. The slide of fingers groping over his tight muscled belly. These pair had ordered the captives brought from their cage, hands bound, to some shrine. Muscular themselves, tall and powerful, in body and presence .. intently they looked Tarzan and Wright over.
“This the best you can come up with, ape?” Wright hissed scornfully from Tarzan’s side. Bound too .. and with a pair of muscular warriors breathing down his neck. “Just take it as it comes? Let these fuckers make all the running?” Wright snarled. “What you fucking gonna do about this? Say something, arsehole!”
Tarzan’s thoughts were on more important things .. not on Wright blaming him. Cannibals were rare .. Tarzan suppressed the thought. Only when people were out of their heads with hunger. Tarzan had never come across such a tribe. But the way this pair were rapaciously gorging themselves on the sight of their captives’ bodies …..
Tarzan had never heard tell of a tribe of man-eaters. But that did not mean they did not exist ……
“An excellent catch …”
Catch! Like praising a hunter for what he’d snared. After he’d got a good look at the booty, the taller of the pair had stepped down from the carved screen. Strongly Tarzan stared him back. Not unused to being looked over, an enemy scrutinising his strength and judging the danger in a fight .. not for the first time he had been captured by an enemy that greedily looked him over, mind set on using him for a work-slave .. but the looks he’d been getting, so intense, so appraising .. they had been disconcerting. All the more reason to show he was not taking this lying down.
At the man’s approach, the hands gripping him by his upper arms tightened. All the way from the cage they had been roughly handled. Warning that these warriors were not accepting any trouble. Put up a show of strength and these guards would strike back. Hard. The tight grip on his biceps reminded Tarzan of that warning. Trouble would be dealt with, harshly.
The chief, Tarzan assumed …. he had clearly perused the fresh pair of captives and found them acceptable. Receiving the “catch” on behalf of the tribe.
“You have done well.”
Tarzan saw the warrior who had led the ambush on them nod in appreciation. His chest blossomed with pride at the praise from his chief. Tarzan noted, the word of the chief here mattered. This was the one to deal with.
“Both will yield excellent strength.”
This comment had come from the other man stood behind the chief. Looking down from the platform on which stood a richly carved screen. On it, grotesque heads. Was that it? Were these head-hunters of some kind? The thoughts churning through Tarzan’s head made him realise .. he was desperately trying to make sense of where they were. And what this tribe wanted with him.
From his bearing and position, Tarzan would have guessed the second man for a witch-doctor. Some kind of priest. But the witch doctor was no philosopher type. Not a man who spent his life with potions and spells. He was impressively built as well. That didn’t come from playing with herbs.
Both, priest and chief, like all their male warriors .. defined muscle, powerful. Intense. And with a look about them that would brook no answering back. Determined. Strong in body, robust in mind.
Nevertheless, Tarzan had to show they had been dragged here against their will.
“What is going on? Why have you captured us?”
It hurt Tarzan to include Wright in his plight .. “US!”. He wanted nothing to do with this evil killer. This tribe could have him as far as he was concerned. But he could see he had no choice. They were in this together.
“We have done you no wrong. We have done noth…..”
A nod from the chief was all it took. The warrior swung his war-club. Tarzan hadn’t finished what he had to say. An ominous whoosh struck him hard in his mid-riff. With malice. Breath-takingly hard. Shocked, taken unawares, Tarzan lumbered forwards. Surprised. The force of the blow took his breath away. A blow to his scalp followed through, drove him down to his knees. Hands roughly wrestled him to the dirt. Tarzan got the message. He was not required to talk.