Chapter IV

CHAPTER IV--–THE COLONY
JULY 12TH, 2003

The chopper rocked back and forth on the launching pad, waiting for Quentin Forsythe to board. It had been a month later, right down to the day, where Quentin Forsythe had decided to embark to Natas, Africa, otherwise known as hell on Earth. This would be his penultimate trip, the last stop on his merry-go-round of impoverished countries. He was going to set up a lab deep inside this colony and hammer out a solution to resurrecting the region.
Making his way across the tarmac, Forsythe shielded his face from the wicked kickback from the helicopter. He alertly loaded his rig into the chopper and hopped in. His calm fingers clasped the seat belt snugly around his waist and faced the pilot.
“All ready back here Rick,” Forsythe acknowledged to his old friend.
“Then let’s get ready to rock and roll,” said the chubby pilot whose stubby fingers glided over the controls with precision. Rick flipped on the CD player and blasted AC/DC and throughout the chopper. Within moments, Forsythe was headed into the belly of the beast, the heart of darkness, and hell on Earth.
“Once I drop you Quentin, there will be no contact for six months,” Rick yelled back to Quentin.
“Why is that?”
“Rebel forces have overtaken the region surrounding your area, making it impossible for constant radio contact, never mind the frequent delivery of medical supplies.”
“Well, I have all that I need with me,” said Forsythe. “My laptop full of data, medicine, astronaut food and plenty of water. Did the primary drop of supplies arrive?”
“Yes, but in what condition I don’t know.” Rick flew the bird over a gorgeous waterfall embedded deep within the continent. “Almost there. Anyway, those rebel forces scour and steal everything and anything they can get their hands on.”
“Survival of the fittest.” Forsythe bit off the wrapper to his stick of Juicy Fruit. He crammed the gum into his mouth and began to chew to counter with the raising pressure outside.
“You’re going to have to play it smart, safe and try not to get yourself killed down there.” Rick eased the helicopter into a slick turn.
“I do have some help down there,” Forsythe said with some eagerness. “A small collection of doctors and nurses ready to assist me in any way possible.”
“It’s going to be a culture shock,” Rick said through a worrisome face. “I’ve dropped off many doctors that haven’t survived the colony.”
“The colony? Is that your name for it?” Forsythe grinned.
He stroked his grizzled white beard, while adjusting his silver frame spectacles.
“The devil’s playground,” added Rick, trying to seduce Forsythe with some new names.
“I should hire you as my public relations director for my next charity dinner.”
“Seriously doctor,” Rick firmly said with concern. “I’m not pulling your dick on this one. That place down there, scares the living shit out of me.”
“How so?”
“Once last year when I was dropping supplies, I saw things.”
“Things?” Forsythe dabbed his sweaty brow with a white handkerchief.
“I saw trees sway violently, screams in the dead of night, and it fucking scared me.” Rick’s eyes adjusted to the upcoming Natas. “Five minutes and we’ll be there.”
“Screams? Christ Rick, medical operations are routine in an impoverished area such as this one. In fact, I’ll probably perform fifteen of them in one day. Those screams are their only way of expressing themselves.”
“All I know are those screams were deeper than pain, like when something grabs hold of your soul and smashes it into pieces.”
“You’re such a fucking pussy.” Forsythe peered out the chopper at the swaying trees.
“And then there’s Dr. Rodney Norris.” Rich guided the bird into a smooth landing.
“Yeah, I heard about him. I received a case file from Tarpis Mental Hospital concerning his vicious suicide. He did his tour of duty out here, back in 2001. Sadly, weeks later he was committed to the mental hospital,” Forsythe recollected Norris’s demise.
“And then a week after that they found him with his neck sliced open, blood everywhere. His entire fingers and toes were curled inward, legions spread all over his gaudy skin, and nearly blind. Norris had also suffered from an acute mental disease, brought on by his time spent inside the colony. Further autopsies revealed several of his key organs had begun to liquefy,” Forsythe added his instrumental insight. “Just sounds like a bad case of leprosy to me,” Forsythe added to the conversation. “That disease does thrive in impoverished areas across the globe.”
“Then why were those doctors baffled?” Rick asked.
“Fucking amateurs probably,” Forsythe responded with a wry grin. “I’ll find out what’s going on down there.”
“Good luck.” Rick shook Forsythe’s hand and watched the doctor depart the chopper. “That fucker’s dead as dirt out here.” Rick flipped the switches and started the whirlybird up again, kicking up dust and debris.
Again, Forsythe shielded his head from the flying matter. Once Rick vanished into the dense forest, Forsythe opened his eyes and glanced around his new home for at least the next six months.
Scattered makeshift huts housed the fortunate, while the filthy, dirty, disease infested ground became the final resting place for the rest. Forsythe grabbed up his gear and immediately he stepped over a trio of children huddled together, obviously malnourished and stricken with disease. Gnats and other assorted insects feasted upon their thinly veiled skin. Their small white bones bursting throughout everywhere, tiny rib cages visual to the naked eye, and the boys’ eyes were sunken into their heads. Forsythe kept walking without blinking and eye. He couldn’t save them, much as he wanted to, Forsythe kept pace and headed straight into the belly of the beast.
The heat was an unbearable threat, causing streams of sweat to escape from Forsythe. His quickly fading body finally sauntered into town. The outskirts were a paradise compared to what he witnessed in the heart of the colony. Women carried jugs of feces upon their heads, looking for a place to dump it. In such areas, this was their daily job, usually for a meager dollar, perhaps even less. The men were burying bodies by the dozen in a nearby field, some family, some friends; others were just lucky to have someone bury them.
“Quentin Forsythe, you old bastard!” A voice beckoned from behind.
Forsythe turned around and faced off with an old colleague of his. “Bobby Adams, you son-of-a-bitch!”
The two men grinned and swapped handshakes. Bobby grabbed up his friend’s gear and carried it off to a nearby hut.
“About time you arrived.” Bobby looked around. He had an athletic frame, sported a short orange-red hair, and his dry skin had a spattering of freckles.
“Really?”
“Leprosy had shattered this place, along with HIV and the minimal food supply.” Bobby entered the hut. “You’ll stay here, and work from inside here. This area’s the only safest place left in the entire colony.”
“You used that term as well. Rick, my pilot, also referred to this place as a colony.” Forsythe let his backpack collapse to the ground, as he unzipped his jacket and found a chair to sit down in. “So what’s the story?”
“As you know, this place ranks high on the list of poverty stricken areas. Natas, Africa lives up to her name.” Bobby paced around nervously. “Another problem that we’ve encountered is the rapid loss of our nurses and fellow apprentices.”
“So how many doctors do we have?” Forsythe asked with agitation.
“You’re looking at them,” Bobby said wincing his eyes. “I’ve been able to teach one or two of the healthy citizens here how to do basic shit. You know, like taking blood, administering bandages, blah, blah, blah.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a much-needed cigarette. “Do you mind?” commitment motioned over to Quentin.
“Its your bloody lungs,” Forsythe smote him.
Bobby eagerly lit up the cracked Kool cigarette and enjoyed its rich full flavor. “Thanks, I needed that one.” Bobby flicked the ashes into the air, watching them fall harmlessly to the ground.
“So we’re fucked then?” Forsythe slammed his fist into the wooden chair, easily splintering the armrest into two pieces.
“Did you bring any supplies?”
“What I could to survive for a few months, because Rick won’t deliver anything else for another six months.” Forsythe looked around the room. “I made a commitment and damn it, I’m going to keep it!” Forsythe shot out of the chair and started to roll up his sleeves.
“What are you doing?” Bobby asked surprisingly.
“Getting down work. Are you going to fuck around in here and tote on your damn peace pipe?” Forsythe angrily responded. He had no time for this shit. This wasn’t a vacation for him; it was a fine line between life and death.
“Edgy aren’t we?” Bobby shot back as he flicked the cigarette off into the distance.
“Are you feeling okay? You’ve always seemed calmer back in the States,” Forsythe for a minute offered some solace.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve just been stuck here without help ever since Carla died from a fever, two months ago.”
“I understand,” Forsythe grabbed Bob’s shoulder and squeezed it. “Give me the tour, and then we’ll get things started around here.”
“Sounds good.”
“I’ll try and get Judas Sturgis down here with that girl from the charity benefit and help rebuild this place.” Forsythe thought fondly of his old student.
“How? Do you have a cell phone?” Bobby wanted to know.
“Some little shit named Miracle smashed it to bits.”
“Why do you call him that?” A grin came across Forsythe’s face.
“Because a miracle he’s still alive.”
“Health wise or you’re just being a comedian?”
“Actually, both. You name it and that poor guy’s been ravaged by it. Whether it was tainted water, bad hygiene, food poisoning, or even the ultimate death sentence for him.”
“HIV?” Forsythe already knew the answer.
“Poor bastard caught it from his mother, never had a chance. You can’t let yourself get connected to people here, once you give them a name and face, you’re setting yourself up for a lot of hurt and pain.”
“I take it you cracked and gave this boy an identity?”
Bobby took a breath in, swallowing a few tasty mosquitoes in the process. “Yeah, I gave Miracle a name, and now I’m faced with either taking him to the States for treatment, or watching him die a gradual, horrible, fucking death that I can’t save him from.”
“That’s the double-edged sword,” replied Forsythe. “Where’s the bulk of work done around here when it comes to surgeries and operations?”
“Right over there,” Bobby said as he pointed due east.
A medium sized, patch-worked building, if one could call it that, with animal skin flapping in the breeze for doors, brought alert to Forsythe.
“I’ve been in some places, but this takes the cake.”
“I know you only do these tours for your public relations campaign, but here you will do work Quentin. Natas is not a dog and pony show, where you fly in and fly out again in a matter of days.”
“Excuse me?” Forsythe alarmingly approached Bobby. “What the fuck did you just say?”
“Never mind.”
“I’ve been in places where you could only pray for death, my shallow friend.” Forsythe blasted back.
“Okay, okay.” Bobby started to back off.
“I’m pissed that you think that this some sort of vacation for me. I’m not the fucking mayor running for election, running around and kissing babies and shaking hands. I’m here to save lives, and that’s my only purpose.” Forsythe clutched Bobby by the shirt collar. “I’ve tutored you since you were crawling around in your shitty diapers you little piss-ant, so hear me when I tell you this,” he said glaring into Bobby’s weak eyes. “You’re either going to part of the solution, or part of the problem.” Forsythe threw Bobby down to the ground. “Who told you this crap?”
Bobby got back up and dusted himself off. “Judas Sturgis did.” Bobby managed to drive some sort of nail into Quentin’s heart. Forsythe had always held a fondness for Judas Sturgis. His only son died from complications stemming from an onslaught of seizures. In Forsythe’s mind, Judas replaced his son, a fiery, intelligent man of power and desire.
“Do you really expect me to accept that piece of shit for an answer?” Forsythe cleanly responded, sidestepping Bobby’s little verbal jab.
“Believe what you want old man,” Bobby reiterated as he brushed past Quentin. “We have work here to do, so let’s do it and then part ways once and for all.”
“Fine by me,” Forsythe followed Bobby into the operating room. Insects feasted on the bodies inside, those waiting for medical attention. Trying to find comfortable Beds were a luxury, most of the people used the ground for comfort. Many had nourishment problems, others were stricken with fevers and disease, while others were missing assorted limbs. “What the hell?” He asked Bobby once he noticed the maimed people all over the place.
“Rebel forces swept through here last week, killing many of the residents here, as well as one of our doctors.”
“For what reason?” Forsythe asked.
“Because they can, will, and shall.” Bobby turned around to face Forsythe. “By the way, watch your step if you venture outside the colony.”
“Why?”
“Well, if the native animals won’t find out, then the land mines planted by the rebels will.” Bobby raised his eyebrows.
“Why land mines?”
“The rebels are also fighting a war against the South African government. We’re caught in the middle of a damn war!” Bobby reached for another cigarette, but he was clean out of inventory.
“I’ll watch my step,” Forsythe replied. He turned around and faced the wounded. “I don’t know if you can understand me,” his words were cut off by a rogue sounding voice from behind.
“I understand you,” the voice grumbled from behind, his fingers flicking off the safety on his handgun.
Forsythe heard the safety click off and wondered who was behind him. “You do? Well, fuck me in the ass, I’m glad somebody does around here.”
“My name’s Reese Dantu, head of the rebel army, and you just made the worst mistake of your life.” Reese glowered as he raised his weapon.
****
Reese was a smallish man with dark skin and chipped teeth. His body frame hidden well behind faded green combat fatigues. His arsenal of weapons was very impressive. Reese was not only equipped with a sleek silver handgun, but several hand grenades traipsed across his chest. This was an iconic image favorable to the Rambo movies, where a half-naked Sly Stallone gallops around the globe saving the world from certain disastrous situations. Reese spearheaded the rebel forces, and this little incursion was that of a selfish matter.
Quentin Forsythe turned around and mocked the intruder. “Infamous? I haven’t heard of you.” Forsythe grinned.
“Quentin, shut your trap.” Bobby hinted at his friend. “This guy has power beyond the stars. He won’t hesitate to cut you down where you’re standing.”
“Whatever.” Quentin looked at Reese. “Reese?”
“Commander Dantu!” Reese stamped his average sized feet against the ground. “I demand respect!”
“So, what’s the problem?” Quentin wanted to know.
“I need a doctor for one of my men. He stepped on a landmine, and blew off his left leg, along with his right foot.”
“Well, Bob here is a good doctor,” Forsythe tried to play Reese off onto Bob. “He can help you in whatever way necessary. I have patients that need my help.” Forsythe started to walk away, but was cut off by a sinister ticking noise from Reese’s mouth.
“I don’t think so.” Reese raised the gun higher, aiming it directly at Quentin. “You will help me, no questions asked.”
“Who the fuck are you to demand things from me?” Forsythe was going about this all wrong. He never thought Reese would act on any of his threats. “There are two doctors standing in this room, and I will give you Bob to assist you in any way.”
“Correction my friend,” Reese said as he shifted the direction of the handgun. “There’s only one good doctor standing in this room.” Reese cocked his head slightly to the right, squinted his left eye, and pulled the trigger.
BANG! Reese’s mouth mimicked that wicked sound.
That hard shot cackled through the air at a blistering speed.
Bob’s eyes rolled back into his head, completely taken by surprise. That one shot brought him limply to his knees. A steady stream of blood gushed from the gaping hole in the center of Bob’s forehead. A few moments would pass before Bob harmlessly fell face first into his dirty grave.
Quentin’s fingers clenched tightly, he dug his left foot sharply into the ground and jetted towards Reese. The sudden force of the impact caught Reese off guard. With a hard body slam, Quentin took down Bob’s killer, without any hesitation.
Reese released his tightened grip on the gun, as it sailed across the dirt crashing into an array of jagged rocks. Reese unloaded with a swift uppercut to Quentin’s left eye socket, sending the middle-aged philanthropist sprawling backward, several feet away.
“Do you want to lose that cocky little head of yours?” Reese asked of his attacker. “Do you realize you’re fucking with the wrong person?” His tone started to detour into a mad man driven by an inflatable ego. Both men were enthralled by each other. Which one would crack first? A battle of egos and wits had begun.
“Kiss my American ass!” Quentin snarled back as he wiped away the soft trickle of blood from the corner of his eye. “I’m here to save lives, by the looks of things, it seems you’re into taking them!” Quentin barked as he started to rise to both feet.
“Do you understand why I killed that man?” Reese pointed to Bob’s immobile corpse below.
“Out of sheer arrogance and insanity?” Quentin asked bitterly, still reeling from the sudden death of his colleague.
“That man,” Reese said as he spat upon Bob’s body. “That man took my money, skimming a share of my profit! I can tell you this old man. Nobody takes what belongs to me without facing proper consequences, fatal or not.”
“What are you implying?” Quentin was a bit frazzled. That hard blow had fractured his eye socket, and the migraine that ensued was enough for Quentin to beat his against the rocks.
The small crowd slowly matriculated back into their makeshift homes, or walked towards the bug-infested river to take a drink, or even worse, to the bathroom.
“Bobby here, was my inside trader, so to speak. I brought the supplies and he provided me with both cash profit and medical assistance to my fallen rebel army.” Reese reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a limp Cuban cigar. “It’s a tough job trying to overthrow the government with a decimated squad of men.” He finished off lighting the cigar and blew a few rings of smoke into the hot, hazy, atmosphere.
“You killed him over a shady business deal?” Quentin disliked stuffy, egotistical, arrogant cocksuckers who threw their weight around just for shits and giggles.
“And now, you and I will endorse our lucrative agreement,” said Reese as he gushed with a fortuitous grin.
“Or else?” Quentin quickly asked with clenched teeth.
“Well, you’re in a unique situation my friend,” Reese displayed those chippers yet again. His seedy little eyes whirled about with an unbridled fervor.
“How’s that Reese’s Pieces?” Quentin questioned this walking poster board of lunacy.
“If you agree to my terms, then I’ll let you reside here free of charge, practice your medicine on these people, trying to save whatever ones you can, and live out your disgusting life.” Reese started to pace back and forth in front of Quentin.
“And if I don’t,” Quentin made the decision to question Reese Dantu’s judgment, and found himself in a world of trouble.
With a whispering click of his mouth, Reese motioned over one of his men. The towering man sauntered over and immediately stopped between Quentin and directly before Commander Dantu. “Yes, Sir?”
“Ah, do you see that enthusiastic flair for recognizing my proper authority?” Reese looked over at Quentin.
“Damn, I blinked. I must’ve missed it. Could you show me again?” Quentin fired back with unbridled sarcasm.
Reese cocked his head to the right and within an instant; Quentin Forsythe found himself on the wrong end an ass kicking. The solider quickly darted around and cracked Quentin in the face with the butt of his rifle, sending the old man crashing down to
his wobbly knees. The muscular man then wrapped his fingers around the small trigger on his rifle and aimed directly at Quentin’s temple, acting with an unnerving deftness.
“I’ll ask you again,” Reese blew another cloud of smoke into the misty haze. “Do you see the enthusiastic flair for recognizing my proper authority?”
“You have my undivided attention Commander Dantu,” Quentin slowly released his grip on the war of egos and sullenly became a beaten man. It was never this bad. These conditions were horrid, and this peckerneck and his band of rebel yahoos only complicated the agenda, instead of assisting in any way possible. All Quentin could think about now was Bob’s family back in the States. How do they get a proper burial for their befallen? He quickly found out the dark answer.
“Burn the dead body,” Reese turned to address his men. “Leave me with the old man, we have some parameters to discuss.”
Quentin closed his eyes and thought of happier times to ease him through the burning of his old friend. That burning stench of human flesh seemed to cling into Quentin’s nostrils. His stomach churned with unpleasant sounds, before hot vomit raced through his esophagus and splattered all over the dingy ground beneath him.
“This man defied me!” Reese barked out to the skittering crowd. “If you fail me in any way, this will be your fate as well!” Reese’s troops let off a succession of wild gunfire into the air. Softly, the errant bullets sailed back down somewhere within the deep realm of the jungle.
Quentin scratched at the small pebbles on the ground, trying to find the strength to stand back up. He wouldn’t have to wait another second, as a brute force caught him from behind and forced Quentin into a nearby camouflaged tent.
Quentin was hurled across the inside of the tent, flying into a small stack of sleeping bags and lanterns. Painfully, he rolled over and found another round of blistering words escaping from Reese’s lips.
“Now that I have your undivided attention, I’m in need of a good doctor, one that will assist me in my political agenda.” Reese unfolded his feet on a rickety wooden chair.
“In what way?” Quentin’s head was throbbing with that fucking migraine that Reese delivered to him, courtesy of a nasty uppercut.
“I will guarantee you protection under my leadership,” Reese said with a slick persuasion.
“From?” Quentin’s fingers tried to massage his temples, but it was to no avail.
“Many more fragmented rebel forces are scattered about these areas, looking to loot and vandalize,” said the pompous Reese.
Quentin had no idea if this was truth or not. He had to play into Reese’s courtyard, especially if he wanted to start saving lives within the colony. “You have my unsolicited assistance, Commander Dantu.” Quentin bowed his head in complete pain, although Reese thought it was out of respect for him.
“I will aid you with medical supplies, food and clothing,” said a confident Reese.
“And in return?” Quentin’s eyes started to blur, a definite sign that he had suffered at least a mild concussion.
“For you to help my men first and foremost, before these people here.” Reese flicked open the tent and looked around.
“I mean let’s face it doctor, they’re practically dead anyway. Leprosy, AIDS, malaria, intestinal infections from eating their own shit, and they’re worth saving?”
“I don’t know if I can turn my back and ignore these people as you have. I find it irrational and sadistic to solely concentrate on your men twenty-four seven.” Quentin did it again, whether it was the headaches, or his bad habit to buck the trend,
he went and pissed off the daring Commander, yet again. Quentin obviously didn’t say what that little dick wanted to hear.
Reese snapped his head back towards Quentin, with a vicious snarl. Reese had a very short attention span and an even shorter fuse. His hand quickly whipped out his trusty handgun, the same one that gunned down Bob just a few short moments ago. “I like your grit and fire old man, but you’re starting to annoy me again. Sure, I can stampede through another area and round me up an efficient doctor or two, but that would be another day or so, and I kind of like it here right now. I really want for us to be on the same page now, but I feel you’re failing to comprehend my authority, and that saddens me. It’s very clear to me that you still haven’t learned your lesson,” Reese spoke with a fiery voice as he coldly stared down Quentin, and squeezed the trigger.
Quentin felt his left shoulder jerk back with a hammering force. He could feel the bullet tear through his shoulder blade, splintering the bone into pieces.
Reese simply smiled through this small judicial exercise. “Maybe, just maybe, old man, by the time you’re done recovering from your injuries, you’ll come to realize that no one fucks with Commander Reese Dantu,” snarled the evil Commander, as he unloaded round after round into the staggering Quentin Forsythe, until, finally the old man collapsed onto his back, quivering for mercy.