Treasure Hunting in the Arzan

[AK47]

Trish took off her pith hat and wiped the sweat from her forehead as she sat down for a breather. Her athletic form glistened with sweat in the sun. She was wearing her hiking boots, khaki short-shorts, khaki button up with her midriff exposed, and her pith hat, of course. Her soft blonde hair was tucked up into a loose bun.
She had been slogging her way through the Arzan jungle in the south pacific. What brought Trish out there was the chance to find the Golden Skull of the Jackal. It was one of the only traces of the all-female Minka tribe that lived in the jungle hundreds of years ago. The Skull was solid gold with jewels studded into it. It was said that the Minka women worshipped it as an idol of the “Wise Spirits.” Last semester, her archaeology professor had told her about an expedition that had travelled to the Arzan back in the 1950’s to find it. The expedition nearly made it to where the map stated where the Skull was located, but one by one, the explorers suffered nasty fates. Radio communiques revealed that trees were falling on & crushing the hunters, some stumbled into bottomless quicksand pits with no chance of escape & some came down with serious illnesses that killed them within days.
Trish was apprehensive at first, but the reward of finding the Skull & making oodles of money off of it enticed her. Plus the thrill of risking it all like that stimulated her. So, when she finished classes for the semester, Trish planned out her trip to the Arzan & found the old treasure map, hidden deep on the internet. She was so sure she would be done quickly that she booked a two way ticket for that week.
The Skull was heavy in her backpack but she only had a few more miles to trek back before she reached the run down shore town her motel was in. It had been so easy finding it! The directions were simple, and Trish found the Skull in an ancient looking shrine deep in the thicket. Now she was out of the thicket and was on her way back to the trails.
“Those explorers back in the 50’s must’ve been some terrible hikers,” Trish thought out loud to herself, followed by a chuckle. She put her hat back on and stood up. As she began walking, she felt a sharp pain suddenly sting her ankle. “OW! What the hell?!” Trish yelped as she sat back down to look at her ankle. When she pulled her leg up to look at her ankle, Trish noticed a dart was lodged in her skin, with a shiny red feather on its rear. She suddenly felt ill but before she could throw up, Trish fainted.

A stinging aroma filled Trish’s nostrils that awoke the confused blonde from her comatose state. She looked around and noticed that she was being held up by two warrior women with Minka tattoos that she recognized from her research. Trish’s hands were bound behind her back with vine and her legs were tied loosely together with the same kind of vines; acting like leg irons. Trish looked up saw a warrior woman standing about fifteen feet in front of her, across what looked to be a bog. The woman, a bronze and busty Asian with piercing blue eyes regarded Trish with disdain.
“What is your name?” the warrior woman across the bog asked in a strange accent.
“Trish Connelly,” Trish answered.
“Trish Connelly, you have been found guilty of thievery and heresy by the Minka Tribunal of Elders. I am Nira, merely here to carry out your sentence,” the woman said coldly as she dipped her toes in the bog and dragged them across a few inches before pulling them back out. The quagmire was a grey clay with a creamy consistency that had leaves and sticks halfway submerged in it.
“Why? What did I do?” Trish asked, with fright in her voice.
“You stole the Golden Skull of the Jackal from its rightful place at our Alter, most likely in the hopes to sell it for your own personal gain,” Nira explained.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was supposed to! I thought –“
“You thought we were all dead, did you? Well unfortunately for you, we are not. Not yet. You however, may have seen your last sunrise.”
“No please, I have money. Take anything you want from me! I’ll leave and never come back. I won’t tell anyone about this!” Trish pleaded
“Your excuses aren’t valid & I will not take your bribe. Tis up to the Wise Spirit of The Earth now,” the warrior woman scowled & pointed down to the bog. Trish’s eyes widened as she struggled against the grasp of the two warriors flanking her to no avail. The warriors began marching forward to the bog, dragging the tied up Trish with them. She begged them to let her go but there was no reaction out of them. They reached the edge of the bog and tossed Trish in.

“No!” she screamed as she fell through the air.
SHLURP
The quicksand immediately took Trish up to her waist and began bubbling. Trish looked down at her plight and then began wriggling to free herself of the vines binding her hands.
“Your fate is in the hands of The Wise Spirit of The Earth now. If it should forgive you, you will be able to escape this trap you have found yourself in. If the Spirit does not, then I’m afraid you’ll be consumed,” Nira said coldly as she watched Trish slowly sink.
“Wise Spirit? You mean this quicksand? I don’t think that’s how it works!” Trish snapped as she settled in up to her chest in the grey quagmire.
“Normally I’d advise someone to refrain from using blasphemous language while they’re in the situation you’re in. But you’ve already annoyed me enough and I really hope the Spirit doesn’t forgive you. Now I leave you here, The Spirit is to be left alone when deciding an offender’s fate.” Nira turned and led her warrior guards away. Trish was speechless, staring at them as they melted back into the jungled.
A bubble bursting near her brought her back to her sticky predicament. She had descended up to her ample breasts in the leafy and sticky clay. She kept trying to undue the binds on her wrists but it was of no use. Her feet were still bound as well and now they were pointing downward, deep below the surface.

Trish tried remaining perfectly still to stop her descent but she was still sinking. The quicksand claimed her breasts and now lapped at her shoulders. A grey ring of muck formed around her form and looked like a set of lips constantly sucking the helpless blonde safari girl down.
“Mmmm” she moaned as she futilely tried to undo the vines. “Help! Help me! I’m stuck in quicksand! I can’t-ungh- I can’t get out!” Trish screamed. Nobody could hear her, except maybe the Minka warriors. “Hello?! Anyone?! Save me!” she continued to cry out as the quicksand took her up to her neck. It was becoming harder to breathe with the weight of the muck bearing down on her now.
“Oh God, not like this” she whimpered. The churning bog squelched and bubbled as Trish resigned herself to her fate. She felt the quagmire lap an inch or so below her chin. Her hair was already partially submerged now. There was nothing the girl could do but just remain there and watch herself be consumed by the quicksand.
“Hello?” she heard a whisper nearby.
“Yes! I’m here! Help me!”
“Shhhh…they’ll hear you,” the male voice whispered.
“Please hurry, I’m about to go under,” Trish quieted her voice as she settled up to her chin in the quicksand. She heard rumbling in the bushes from where the voice came from, but a jolt from the bog made her fear her rescuer was too late. She suddenly sank another inch down. Trish tilted her head back as the quagmire crept up her jaw and stopped just below her mouth.
“Oh god, I’m going under now! He-mmph!” Trish blurted as she suddenly submerged.


TO BE CONTINUED

[PM2K]

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