Regime Change – Containment Protocol-Part 29
Prehistoric palace coup. Fiction. 2200 words, 11-minute read.
Politics, neolithic style.
The rest of the Containment Protocol saga can be found here: https://raytabler.substack.com/s/containment-protocol-serial
Part 1 (the beginning), ... Part 28 (last episode), Part 30 (coming soon)
Regime Change – Containment Protocol-Part 29
By Ray Tabler
“At least I didn’t give her a name, like Pinsky did with his swahldet.” Muñoz wrinkled his nose at the stench of roasting dino following them from the lava flow like a judgmental ghost.
The mention of Pinsky made Booker wonder how the other parts of his fragmented command were faring. It troubled him. But he would just have to trust Mulroney and Olmer to manage what fate dealt them. They were both good, solid men.
“Yeah.” Booker shifted in the saddle, trying to find a halfway comfortable position, now that he and Muñoz rode double. “That woulda been awkward.”
“At least she didn’t last long.”
Booker tried not to think about how the swahldet had suffered, trapped in the cruel viscous lava. They still weren’t out of the lava field, and more hellish rivers might bar their path.
Zunta ranged ahead, his mount relatively unburdened. He waited at the top of a slight rise, glancing back at the two soldiers with evident impatience. Booker’s beast plodded on, tired and probably mourning the loss of her sister. If swahldets could feel such emotions. Booker doubted it, but this place had surprised him before. Maybe these domesticated dinos were smarter than he thought.
Zunta called, irritated.
“He says to hurry up.”
“Really? I was thinking about stopping for a nap.”
They came up level with Zunta at the crest of the hill. More hideous, black lava rock stretched out before them. But, about two miles away the lava field straggled to a spiteful end, apparently finally defeated by surroundings in the battle to retain enough heat and remain liquid. Beyond, a cool, dark forest landscape beckoned, promising release from the fiery nightmare.
“Oh, that’s the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in days.” Booker wondered if he was hallucinating.
“You said it!”
Zunta spurred his mount on, sliding down the far side of the slope at the center of a small avalanche of black, volcanic sand. He barked what must’ve been an order to keep moving in his own language.
“No need to translate.” Booker urged his mount to follow.
“Can’t really blame the guy. Every second we delay is another second with his wife in danger.”
That silenced Booker, and reminded him why the hell they had gone through this hell. At least they had made it through. Zunta was no doubt hungry for some payback, whatever they found once back at Bedrock. Truth be told, that sounded like a tasty dish to Booker as well. He wondered what the cost would be.
Once clear of the lava field, the forest felt almost frigid to the soldiers. Without open bodies of molten rock dangerously close at hand, a normal temperature chilled them. The sky began to lighten with dawn. They’d been all night crossing that damned lava field.
A few hundred yards into the forest, a tiny runnel of water bubbled through a gully. It was really not much more than sluggish runoff. But to the beasts and the men it was the answer to prayers. The swahldets lapped up water with long, parched tongues. Booker plunged his head into the creek, dragging his nose on the gravel lining the bottom and swallowing convulsively. He didn’t give a damn about the shallow depth or how quickly the stream grew cloudy from the splashing of men and dinos. After a night spent dodging, then leaping, lava, the muddied water tasted of ambrosia.
Booker felt himself being dragged bodily from the water. He coughed and sputtered. Muñoz hunched next to him, blinking in surprise at a similar treatment. Zunta stood between the two of them, growling words and pointing.
Muñoz listen, then wiped water from his eyes. “He says to pull our swahldet out of the water. If we let her drink her fill after such a long, dry thirst, she’ll bloat and maybe die. She won’t carry us either way. We shouldn’t drink to much either. Fill out canteens and move on.”
Booker reluctantly acknowledged the wisdom of the words. Which didn’t mean he had to like them, or the way they were delivered.
Zunta slapped his mount, pulling back from the water on the reins. The swahldet growled, the first aggressive action Booker had ever witnessed from on of the beasts to its master. Then the swahldet snapped at Zunta, trying to return to guzzling water. Zunta kicked his mount, shouting and jerking the reins. Sullenly, Zunta’s swahldet lifted his head from the water and reversed away from the stream, whining.
Working together, Booker and Muñoz managed to coax and pull the beast they shared away from the water as well. The task wasn’t as difficult as Zunta’s. Perhaps the fact that their swahldet was female accounted for her slightly more compliant behavior. Good thing too, Booker mused. The darned dinos were over thirty feet long and who knew how many tons. They could both just ignore the men and go on drinking until the creek ran dry, if they wanted to.
The soldiers filled their empty canteens. Zunta’s leathern waterskin bag was full to bulging. With some groaning and a final bit of splashing, the swahldets reluctantly carried them up the far slope of the gully, and away from the sluggish, muddied water.
“Something’s bugging me.” Booker chewed his lip.
“What’s that?”
“Bunzo is one sleazy, slippery son of a bitch. “
“He is that.” Muñoz agreed.
“Twice now, he’s managed to pull a fast one on us. At the tree fort, and again at the city.”
They rode alongside Zunta through the forest. At the mention of the witch doctor’s name. Zunta had glanced over. He remained silent, content to let the soldiers finish their conversation before asking what was up.
“He’s a sneaky bastard. No argument there.” Muñoz shrugged. “Don’t forget the crocodiles at the river ford.”
“How could that slip my mind. That’s three times Bonzo’s tried to punch our ticket. He is a sneaky bastard, and he’s been a step or two ahead of us ever since we said we were going to talk to the gods. I’ve just been riding along here, trying to figure out what else he has up his sleeve for us.”
“They teach you how to be this tricky in officers’ training?”
“Nah. I’m only a lieutenant. You gotta be a major before backstabbing is on the curricula. I learned this listening to my mother and my aunts gossiping about the other church ladies.”
Muñoz was about to laugh, when he realized Booker might be telling the truth. “So, what do you come up with when you channel the evil witch doctor?”
“First, there’s no way he could’ve organized all this between when I said I was headed to the mountain of the gods, and the time we left. Some of it he might’ve been able to whip up, like the crocks in the river. But he had accomplices when he snatched Nohfa. And he likely had help when he pulled the stunt at the tree fort. He’s been plotting something for a while. We just made him pull the trigger earlier than he planned.”
Muñoz looked thoughtful. “Not much to go on. Sure you’re not jumping to conclusions, church lady?”
“I feel it in my gut. Why don’t you bounce this off of Zunta? See what he thinks. He’s been wondering what were talking about anyway.”
“Okay.”
Muñoz spoke to Zunta. Who listened, growing quiet in the process. Muñoz finished. Zunta rode on in silence, staring at the way ahead, clearly not happy with the directions his thoughts led judging by the set of his jaw.
Without warning, Zunta handed the reins for his swahldet over to Muñoz, muttering a few words. Then, the tribesman slid from the saddle to the ground. Moving swiftly and silently, Zunta disappeared in the undergrowth, and was gone.
“What the hell?” Booker glanced back at Muñoz riding behind him.
“He said to just keep riding in the same direction at the same pace.”
“Where’d he go?”
“Maybe he has to take a leak.”
“Somehow I doubt that.” Booker scoffed. There was no sign of Zunta. It was like he vanished into thin air. “I guess we should do what he says.”
They continued for a few minutes in silence, tension mounting.
“Uh,” Muñoz grimaced. “You were running pretty fast at the time. Did you happen to hear what Ralna said right before we left that big room, chamber, hall thing back there in the city?”
Booker sighed. “You mean the part about Nohfa being pregnant?”
“Yeah, that. One night and boom. Guess you’re not shootin’ blanks.” Muñoz chuckled.
“Can we talk about something else? Anything else. I am very uncomfortable with this subject.”
Muñoz held up his hands. “Okay. Fine. I just didn’t know if you’d caught that detail. It was a tense situation, and he didn’t speak all that loud. And it seemed to me that it’s an important piece of information.”
“I did hear. Thank you for checking.”
“You’re welcome. Uh, do you think we could stop for a minute so I can transfer to Zunta’s swahldet? Not that it isn’t fun and cozy riding this close to you, but it isn’t.”
“We don’t know when he’s coming back.”
“No, we don’t. It could be a while. And I’d rather pass the time over on the other animal, if it’s all the same to you.”
“Why? Do I smell bad?”
“Well, frankly you do smell bad, lieutenant Booker. We both do. Riding all night through a blazing hot lava field will have that effect.”
Booker pulled up on his reins. “Fine. Climb over—”
The sound of running swahldet feet approaching from behind caused them both to twist about. Zunta emerged from the trees, riding a swahldet, and leading the reins of another. Running behind at the end of a rope was a tribesman, hands tied in front of him. As they watched , the new man tripped and sprawled. Zunta spat something unkind at the man, and simply dragged him along the ground until he was level with Booker and Muñoz.
The soldiers blinked at each other.
“What the hell?” Muñoz slid to the ground.
Zunta leapt from the saddle and delivered a couple of savage kicks to his prisoner’s gut. The man curled into a ball, trying to protect his vitals. Zunta reached down and grabbed his long hair, then dragged along the bumpy ground to the base of a convenient tree.
While Zunta bound the prisoner securely to the bole of the tree, Muñoz came close, peering at the man. “Hey, I know this guy.”
“Who is it?” Booker approached, leaning to the side so he could bet a better look. “Wait a minute. That’s Bunzo’s assistant, the apprentice witch doctor. What’s he doing here?”
Muñoz spoke to Zunta, who responded while slapping and kicking his prisoner repeatedly.
“He says numb nuts and another asshole were following us. He killed the other one, who at least fought back. Or tried to.”
Zunta pulled his flint knife, still sticky with blood, and brandished it under the prisoner’s nose for emphasis.
“Numb nuts?”
“That’s what Zunta called him. Or the local equivalent for numb nuts. I don’t remember his name.”
“I suppose numb nut will do then.”
Zunta was speaking again.
“I thought about what you said, Booker. I thought, maybe that gutless arselicker Bunzo, may he rot, would have someone watch in case we traveled the fool’s path. And there they were.”
Numb Nuts: Every blow you land upon me will triple the torment of your bitch, Nohfa!
This did not deter Zunta from landing more kicks, slaps, and punches. Muñoz continued translating the exchange.
Zunta: Cowardly fool. Vinzi with gut you himself for threatening his daughter, if he can draw knife faster than I can!
Numb Nuts: Ha! Vinzi will do nothing. He is already dead!
Zunta: What?
Numb Nuts: Did you think everyone loved the old fool? Long Bunzo and I have planned his down fall. We rule in Bedrock now!
That last remark did nothing to diminish Zunta’s rage. He wrapped his brawny mitts around numb Nuts’ throat and squeezed.
“Vinzi’s dead?” Booker hit Muñoz on the chest with the back of his hand.
“That’s what he said.”
“The platoon’s smack dab in the middle of a revolution!”
“Well, it sounds more like a palace coup.”
“Call it what you want. We’ve got to get back there ASAP!”
“I know. But what are we going to do with Numb Nuts?” Muñoz asked.
‘Drag him along?”
“He’s gonna slow us down.”
“We could leave him tied up here.”
“Some dino come by and eat him.”
“I don’t see that as my problem at the moment.” Booker countered.
A disgusting, croaking sound interrupted the discussion. Both men turned to see Zunta throttle the last ounce of life out of Numb Nuts. Who’s sightless, bulging eyes stared at the ground, distended tongue lolling out. Zunta pummeled the corpse a few more times, like an enraged bear.
“Or we could do that.” Muñoz shrugged.
END.
Tune in for next episode – Fortress Bedrock
The rest of the Containment Protocol saga can be found here: https://raytabler.substack.com/s/containment-protocol-serial
Part 1 (the beginning), ... Part 28 (last episode), Part 30 (coming soon)
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You’ve really cranked up the action and and intrigue! Clearly, pissing off Zunta is a really bad idea.
Looking forward to the next installment to see where all this prehistoric craziness goes. Keep the chapters coming. This is by far my favorite serial on Substack!