Through the Gates of Hell

Chapter Fifteen

The drastic change of temperature was like a shock to their system. One moment, they were in a freezing cold chamber of dry air, and the next, they were in an oven, overwhelmed by a wave of sweltering heat. Maggie shuddered involuntarily, gasping at the humidity, and felt her feet sink up to her knees in murky water. A glowing yellow sun shone in the sky overhead, making her dizzy and light-headed with its intensity.

They were in the middle of a swamp. Surrounding them on all sides were towering, moss-covered trees with overhanging branches covered in heavy leaves. All manner of grasses and reeds sprouted out of the water around them, with bright colorful flowers and other plants. The air buzzed with the sound of insects and chirping cry of birds.

Behind them, the magical doorway continued to glow, and Maggie had the sudden fear that the creatures from the other world might follow them through. She tried to take a deep breath, but she couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen in the thick, humid air, and the dull pain in her chest made it hurt to breath at all. She barely had the energy to lift her hand to wave away the bugs flitting through the air all around them.

Robert half-dragged, half-carried Maggie away from the doorway, sloshing through knee-deep water and through a thick mass of grass and flowery shrubs. In all directions, all they could see was dense, overgrown jungle. Robert’s only goal was to get them away from the doorway and find some kind of solid ground under their feet.

“Robert,” Maggie mumbled, “I can’t … I’m sorry …”

“Just hold on,” he grunted. “Let’s get over here …”

By some miracle, he was able to find a small clump of relatively dry ground. Finally, he slumped to his knees and laid Maggie down beside him. He was panting for breath, utterly exhausted, hands on his thighs with his head drooped and his eyes closed. All throughout their terrifying escape, he had managed to hold onto his beloved shotgun, which he dropped to the ground next to him as well. He sat up and finally took a look around them, a miserable, bewildered expression on his face.

Maggie was glad to be lying down. She was in too much pain to move. Slowly tilting her head to the side, she gazed out at a festering swamp that they had found themselves in. She could only compare it to the bayou of Louisiana, but this place was even hotter and more humid than that. She wanted to take off her coat, but knew she was in no condition to do it.

Neither of them spoke for a minute or two, and then Maggie finally said, “I don’t think … this place … looks like Arizona.”

Robert shook his head, still looking around. “No, no, it isn’t.”

“Where do you think we are?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we’re in the jungles in South America.”

“I don’t think we are,” Maggie said. “The sun doesn’t look right. I think this is some other world … like that other place.”

Robert said nothing at first, and then seemed to surrender to the obvious. He nodded and looked at her apologetically. “Yes, you’re probably right.”

“We’re never making it back home, are we?”

“We could …” Robert said. “Once you’re healed up, try and go back …” His voice trailed off at the futility of it all. They were lost on some other planet or universe, they had no food or supplies, and barely any ammunition. Without medical attention, Maggie was going to die, probably from internal blood loss or some kind of terrible alien infection contracted here in this strange jungle.

She changed the subject. “Do you think … that Eleanor and Hannah made it back?”

“God, I sure as Hell hope so,” Robert said with a humorless chuckle. “None of those monsters chased after her, not that I saw. She should have been able to make it back to the mine. I don’t know if she could ride a horse, but she could walk back if she had to.”

“I hope she made it back … or this was all for nothing.”

“Yeah. We saved that girl Hannah, but we paid a heavy cost …”

“You should have left me behind,” she said, looking up at him.

“Never,” he replied. “I want to save lives, not give them away. I would have saved Walt if I could have.”

“I think Walt wanted to go out that way. He wanted to die fighting.”

“I think you’re right. Still, I didn’t want to lose anyone.” He shook his head bitterly, his hands resting in his lap. “There’s no point in sacrificing one innocent life just to save another.”

Maggie let the comment slide for a moment, and then said softly. “I don’t think Walt believed he was innocent. For that matter, … neither do I. I’m not innocent, Robert.”

He looked at her. “Maybe nobody’s innocent, but you know what I mean.”

She shook her head. “No, Robert. I mean … I mean I’m not the person you think I am.”

He looked at her quizzically, perhaps concerned that she was becoming delusional.

She continued to speak in a soft but steady voice. “I was married once,” she said. Just saying the words made her heart ache, and the confused expression on Robert’s face made her want to break down and cry. “I was seventeen, and he was strong and handsome. But after we’d been married a few years, he started drinking. He got rough with me a few times.”

The memory made her burn with shame. It was the most horrible night of her life, and the weight of carrying the guilt all these years had soured every moment of joy she had experienced since that night. “One night, I argued with him. We didn’t have much money, and he was spending it at the tavern almost every night. He got violent with me, started choking me. I ran and got my gun … and I shot him. I killed my husband, Robert. God, I didn’t want to … but he wouldn’t stop, and …”

Robert held her and said, “Maggie, I’m so sorry. It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me any more. Don’t blame yourself for what you had to do. If you believe it was self-defense, then that’s what it was. You did what you thought you had to do, that doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“But I killed him …”

“I’ve killed men too,” Robert said, “and sometimes I wonder if maybe some of those men didn’t need to die. Maybe I overreacted, maybe they would have surrendered if I had given them another few seconds. But you can’t spend your life second-guessing yourself, Maggie. You were in a bad situation and you made an impossible choice, that’s all.”

Maggie wished she could embrace Robert back, but she barely had the energy to raise her good arm and grip his hand. She let out a long breath and squeezed her eyes closed, but tears did not come. She was too exhausted and weak to cry. But if a man like Robert could forgive her for what she had done, then maybe he was right. For almost fifteen years, she had punished herself for what happened that awful night. Maybe it was time to let the past go.

It didn’t matter now, anyway. Both of them were stranded in this godforsaken place. She doubted they would survive a week. Who knew what kind of animals or predators hunted these swamps? Alligators or crocodiles probably lurked in the water just feet away. There might be leopards or jaguars. Or something like the hulking monster that had killed Walt. Or maybe something as simple as a venomous insect would sting them and it would kill them both.

Robert did his best to make her comfortable. He managed to get her sitting upright and carefully removed her heavy duster jacket, sliding the sleeve down her broken arm as gingerly as possible. He wanted to make a splint for her arm, but the branches of the surrounding trees were too curved and twisting, and most of the branches on the ground were sodden and decayed from the humidity. Robert and Maggie were both dripping with sweat by then. Unless they found some clean water to drink, they wouldn’t last two days.

“You’ll have to leave me here,” Maggie said after a time.

“Maggie, you know I can’t –”

“Go and look for help,” she said, cutting him off. “You can’t just stay here with me until we both die of hunger. You have to try and look for help.”

Robert looked tormented. “Are you in pain right now?”

“Yes. I can’t walk on my own.”

He wiped his forehead with his sleeve, which was already damp with sweat. “Okay,” he said finally. “Let’s just think about this. If I go wandering off, I’ll never find my way back here again.”

“Just follow your tracks in the mud.”

“Maybe.”

“You have to go,” Maggie said.

Robert sighed and just shook his head defeatedly. “It will have to wait until morning. I have a feeling it’ll be dark soon. If we make it through the night, then I’ll go.” He looked at her, the stress and fear tormenting him, and added in a pained voice, “But you know as well as I do that I’m not going to find any help –”

He stopped suddenly, his head perking up. He grabbed his shotgun and quickly got to his feet, scanning the thick plant life. Maggie caught herself holding her breath, and tried to look around, but from her low vantage point, all she could see was grass and trees.

“Robert?” she whispered.

He held his shotgun up across his chest with both hands but wasn’t pointing it at anything. He narrowed his eyes and peered intently into the foliage. “Heard something,” he whispered back. “Don’t know what it was.”

All Maggie could hear was the buzz and hum of insects all over the place. After a few moments, Robert seemed to convince himself it was nothing. He relaxed somewhat and lowered his gun, and turned to look at Maggie.

“Listen, I –”

The jungle came alive around them. Figures appeared out of nowhere, as if they had materialized out of thin air, or risen fully-formed out of the swampy ground. Maggie barely had time to blurt out a shriek of surprise before the figures swarmed around them, moving swiftly and silently, like ghosts. It happened so fast that Robert didn’t even have time to raise his gun.

They were men, or almost men. They had dark, bronzed skin and long greasy black hair, and were barely dressed in what appeared to be pieces of reptile skin, stretched like skirts across their waists and fashioned into straps and crude armor on their shoulders, decorated with feathers and tiny animal skulls. They were lean and well-muscled, with angular faces and piercing eyes, and despite their apparent humanity, Maggie did not believe they were men from Earth. Something about them, the way they moved, the savage gleam in their eyes, made them seem distinctly alien.

They surrounded Maggie and Robert on all four sides. One of them held a short spear in both hands, the point pressed right against Robert’s throat. Maggie could see, to her disbelief, that the spearhead was not made of flint or iron, but made of gleaming purple dark stone, chipped and carved into a fine point. The man directly in front of them and held a huge axe-like weapon against Robert’s breastbone. Another man was next to Maggie, pointing another spear at her, and the fourth man was behind them, a bow and arrow in his hands, a dark-stone-tipped arrow aimed right at the back of Robert’s head.

The one in front, apparently the leader, glanced threateningly at the two of them, and then took Robert’s shotgun out of his hands. He turned it over and examined it carefully, as if he didn’t know what it was. Then, surprisingly, he clicked open the chamber and carefully took out the two shells, which were both spent. Maggie realized that the gun wasn’t even loaded. In their terrifying final escape from the other world, Robert had not reloaded it.

The strange man placed the two empty shells into a pouch at his waist, closed the shotgun, and handed it back to Robert, who took it with an amazed expression on his face.

“We … we need help,” he stammered. “We’re strangers here …”

None of the natives responded. They seemed to be waiting for something, and then Maggie heard someone else coming through the bushes.

“I must admit, you have very good hearing,” came a voice. “Even I can barely hear them when they’re stalking their prey.”

Pushing aside tall reeds and fronds, another man emerged from the foliage. At first glance, he appeared to be like the others. His skin was dark and tanned like theirs, and his hair was long and black. But while they were youthful and barely clothed at all in their reptile hides, this man was clearly older, his face weather-beaten and creased with lines.

His clothing, however, was reassuringly familiar, a blue jacket and black trousers, although both were badly tattered and worn. A red bandana was tied around his head. And most importantly, Maggie was relieved to hear him speak English, although his Indian accent was clear and recognizable.

He looked down and noticed Maggie, and look of concern crossed his face. “Are you wounded?”

Maggie could only nod weakly in response, so Robert answered for her, “Yes, she’s hurt badly. She needs medical attention right away.”

“Okay,” the Indian said, “we can get her some help back in the village.”

Robert just stared in disbelief at their sudden change in fortune. Maggie almost couldn’t believe it herself, and wondered if she was hallucinating again. The last hour of her life was like a nonsensical blur from one episode of madness to the next. All she wanted to do was pass out and sleep and maybe wake up back in Tennessee with her family.

Robert finally found his voice, and asked in bewilderment, “Who are you? And where are we? You’re speaking English so you must be from America, but these men …?”

“My name is Teshenah,” the Indian said. He smiled then, but it was a sad, humorless kind of smile, a smile of lonely acceptance of the inevitable. “I’m afraid that you are a long way from home. This is not the planet Earth. Welcome to Jargono.”

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