Adeena Cole and the Dead Man's Chest

Chapter Four

I watched miserably as Jack was raised on a stick over the fire. It was culture to cook the male first, apparently.

"Ahh! Fi-fi!" The man with the torch screamed.

"Fi-fi!" The tribe bellowed back. The chanting and drums resumed. I remembered, when we had saved Jack from the noose, there had been drums that time, too.

He gave me a reassuring smile and then looked downward nervously, into the pile of wood.

Suddenly, we were interrupted by frantic yelling from one side of the camp. There was a little boy, painted with green and yellow stripes, holding a spear and pointing behind him.

I couldn't understand a single thing he said, of course, but Jack could. "Well, go on!" He shouted. "Get them!"

The cannibals yelled something and charged away. There was an awkward silence without the drums and natives. I watched fearfully as the torch fell from the native's hand and lit the wood on fire. Jack began to blow furiously on it. You don't blow on a fire, Jack, you idiot!

I rushed to free myself of my bonds, glancing at Jack from time to time. He was bouncing the stick, trying to get free. He did, finally, and kicked his legs out of the ropes.

"Let's go," He said, and ran away, hunched over due to the stick on his back. I laughed with amusement and cursed just for the fun of it. We ran the way we had before, hampered a bit by Jack's 'condition'.

We stopped again by the weapons tent due to a little cannibal kid, holding a knife and fork, looking at us questioningly.

Jack stared at the cannibal. The cannibal stared at Jack.

Jack snatched the eating utensils from the kid and began to saw at his ropes. The native bolted away, presumably to tell his fellow tribe members that we were escaping. I straightened up, grinning triumphantly; we would be free soon, I would not be eaten, Jack wouldn't be eaten, we would be alive for a little while longer. My grin faded as I gazed forward.

"Jack..." I tapped his shoulder and he looked up.

Two more females were staring daggers at us.

Jack took one look and started screaming. I stared as he ran forward panic-like, looking ridiculous, and collided with a pile of coconuts. His bamboo rod stuck to one, and he swung around, the fruit shooting off the end and toward one of the cannibals.

It shot past my face and into the hands of the native. She lowered her hands, growling as a bit of coconut milk dropped down her nose.

Suddenly, they were throwing fruit at us. Jack stabbed at the air with the knife, trying to hit the papayas and oranges, and I cowered behind him, avoiding a tomato that nearly bulls-eyed me.

Jack and I looked up, startled, as a series of tropical fruits were impaled on his pole. He looked like a human shoosh-cabob.

"Stop it!" He yelled suddenly, holding his hands up.

The two angry females ceased fire and gazed at him questioningly. Whether or not he had thrown a coconut at them, he was the chief.

Jack ran out of the cross fire, screaming, me following. He hit the pile of coconuts again, but this time, his momentum caused him to fly through the air and to the other side of the cliff.

I was distracted by his luck, and I fell off the cliff.

I screamed and flailed my limbs, watching the ground get closer and closer. I crashed through bridges, startling some natives, and I faintly heard Jack yelling as well. I screamed some Czech cusses, and prepared to hit the ground.