ATTN: COLONEL ADAM LEONARD — DIRECTOR, UNEXPLAINED OCCURRENCE DIVISION.
YOUR EYES ONLY
SUBJECT — DISAPPEARANCE OF EPSILON TEAM, NORTH OF KANDAHAR, AFTER TRACKING ENEMY INSURGENTS TO UNDERGROUND HIDEOUT.
SURVIVORS — 1: LANCE CORPORAL PAUL BROWN, MEDIC.
REPORT: After non-response from Epsilon Team for thirty-six (36) hours after their last communique, a second squad was sent to investigate. They found Lance Corporal Paul Brown of Epsilon stumbling through foothills some seven (7) kilometres south of Epsilon Team’s last known whereabouts. Brown was wearing nothing but ragged underwear and his helmet, raving and largely incoherent, his left arm below the elbow was just bone, no hand, the flesh stripped away presumably by acid or a similar agent. His body was covered in various other wounds, some similar to his arm (though none as severe) and others clearly made from impacts, falls, scrapes, etc. He carried no gear except a flashlight, which he pointedly refused to relinquish. He made almost no sense except one phrase, repeated over and over: “Never let it out! Never let it out!” Current assessment by psychologists suggests Brown may never recover his faculties, but therapy has been started. His extensive injuries are being treated and are responding satisfactorily.
We’re still trying to establish further facts but are preparing an incursion squad to Epsilon’s last known whereabouts. Due to your standing request to be informed of any unusual occurrences, I am sending this wire. Our squad will be entering the cave at the last known location of Epsilon Team at 0800 tomorrow, the 14th, should you wish to accompany them.
Please advise.
END.
JIBARO
Alberto Mielgo
A procession of mounted knights ride through the forest. They are led by several dark-robed priests bearing silver crosses and CHANTING in Latin. Their path winds beneath a green canopy of tall, thick birch trees. Rusting IRON CRUCIFIXES and moss-covered, derelict ancient shrines mark the path they follow. The group makes camp near a small, green lake. It is serene; the water is deep and still, but the vegetation surrounding the lake seems OFF somehow — lush, but sickly in color. Birds soar above the lake, coming close to the water’s surface yet never diving in.
JIBARO, a towering deaf — mute knight, with a brutal, almost archaic appearance, has left the camp and walks along the shores of the lake, gazing into the shallows. For a moment, we “hear” through his ears and see the world through his eyes.
SILENCE.
Jibaro kneels to drink; beneath the rippling surface, a gleam of metal catches his eye. He reaches in and takes hold of the object. It is lodged at first, but as Jibaro pulls harder, it comes free. The bright object glows in Jibaro’s hand, nearly blinding him. He shakes his head, squinting, and can just make out a GOLDEN SCALE resting in his palm. He glances around to check if he is alone and then, stuffs it in his pouch. Jibaro continues around the shore, searching for more golden scales.
A priest performs a blessing over the kneeling knights, he stops abruptly; listening, he raises his hand to command silence. A SOUND floats through the air, mellifluous and clear, and then — it is quiet. All the men turn and gaze toward the lake, they see something glowing upon its surface.
In its center, a GOLDEN WOMAN rises from the water. Her skin is covered in thousands of golden scales while her lithe body, neck, and head are adorned with elaborate jewelry from bygone eras. Her mysterious dark eyes, flecked with emerald and gold, fix upon the men. She opens her mouth and releases a sound again. Is it a song?
The entire camp is stilled by her singing, and then, as though it were a deadly virus permeating their senses, they begin walking, and then RUNNING toward the lake, screaming in ecstasy and pain. Jibaro, being deaf to the melody, continues to comb the shore for more gold. He is unaware of the clamor, until the first knight to reach the lake clips his side, throwing Jibaro
briefly off balance. More knights thrash by Jibaro, running madly into the water. Alerted now, his eyes dart frantically to behold the morbid scene.
The men tear at their own flesh, maiming and biting their own fingers off, while frightened horses, guided by their riders, gallop into the waters. Jibaro tries to stop the herd, but they push him aside, desperate to reach the Woman, slaying anyone in their way with a crazed ferocity.
The Golden Woman continues her “song,” swaying seductively atop the water. She retreats, drawing the entranced men further into the lake. A golden FRILL of bone and scaled webbing unfurls from her neck and ripples in an obscene DISPLAY. Jibaro watches helplessly as the water becomes a churning vortex of carnage.
Beneath the surface, the blood swirls thick like oil as it mixes with the green water. The knights spasm and the horses kick as they sink deeper, both driven so mad they have forgotten how to swim. The priests writhe as they drown; their robes billowing around them like beautiful black and purple jellyfish, until their blood bubbles up and tints the water a bright COPPER.
As the last of the men drown, the Golden Woman realizes that only one man remains. It is Jibaro; standing at the shore, gripping his sword. Confused, the Woman sings louder, just for him. But Jibaro is not affected at all.
The Woman is taken aback and quickly sinks under the water’s surface, stunned at Jibaro’s strange immunity. After a moment, Jibaro seems to awake as if from a nightmare. He looks around and sees that EVERYONE is gone. The camp is empty, its fire dying, with just a few scattered corpses cut down by their comrades before they could reach the lake.
The Golden Woman’s head breaks the now-calm surface. She watches Jibaro, like a crocodile, her eyes just above the water. There is confusion on her face, how could this man have resisted? Whereas before she was confident and all-powerful, now she looks lost. But all Jibaro can see are her piercing eyes staring at him from a distance. Panicked, Jibaro grabs a saddlebag and gear and stumbles toward the ONE remaining horse tied to a tree. He quickly mounts and spurs the horse, galloping off into the forest.
The Golden Woman watches him go with a look of longing, and then dives beneath.
Jibaro gallops through the trees beside the water. Soon, he reaches the RIVER that feeds into
the lake, and follows it upstream. The turbulent water flashes and shimmers as it crashes against the rocks. For a moment, Jibaro catches a glimpse of something swimming, reflecting golden before it disappears into the murky water. Afraid, he steers his horse in a hard left, away from the river, pushing the beast up uneven terrain in a frantic and desperate flight.
Galloping ferociously, Jibaro and his horse reach the top of a steep hill — the horse jumps off the summit spectacularly but can not stick the landing as the hill’s edge is too steep. The animal is unable to maintain balance and violently plummets downward. Jibaro and the horse tumble down the precipice between the trees. Everything happens too quickly for Jibaro to react, and then CRASH he smashes his back against a tree and passes out.
He wakes up groggily under the tree. His eyes are slow to focus. He walks cautiously through the forest. Down the hill there is yet a steeper slope scattered with the sharp remains of trees that after many years have become brittle and fallen. There he finds his horse — dead, with branches and trunks piercing its innards.
Jibaro grabs the horse’s caparison, covers himself with it, and walks among the trees with sword in hand and a saddlebag on his shoulder. The night begins to fall and it is cold. Looking in all different directions, the forest itself seems menacing to Jibaro as he tries to find some