Sheena Defeated
by Torrent
"Good looking, ain't she?" said Louie, nodding toward the dark-haired
young woman lying spread-eagle in the jungle clearing.
"Yes, quite," said the Brit. "But forgettable. Sheena is different. Once
you've seen her, you'll never forget her." He wiped his round, flabby face with
a large white handkerchief. The heat was unbearable. He wondered how his
grandfather, who had been in Central Africa with the Colonial Service in the
'30s, could have stood it.
The woman moaned and tugged at the bonds that secured her wrists and
ankles. A small, untidy man had been looking down at her intently. Now he used
her return to consciousness as an excuse to kick her in the side. She groaned
and flinched. He prepared to kick her again, but the Brit called out, "Enough of
that, Dooley. We want her in reasonably good shape. When you go after a jungle
goddess, you need live bait."
"Dooley's a good man with electronics, but he's hell on women," said
Louie, in a soft North Carolina drawl. "Last night, he and a couple of the
others raped that poor girl ragged. If our little Miss Rosie really is Sheena's
girlfriend, we're going to have one highly pissed blonde superheroine on our
hands."
"Yes, Sheena will be 'pissed,' as you put it," said the Brit. "But it
really won't make any difference. She is extraordinary, but 'superheroine' is a
bit of a stretch. A dose of K24 will do to her what it would do to you or to
any of us - knock her out cold for at least half an hour. After that, there will
be seven of us and only one of her. And finally, though I hope it doesn't come
to this, she is as vulnerable to bullets as any creature of flesh and blood."
Louie scratched his balls and thought as deeply as he was capable of
thinking.
"If she's as smart as you say, why should she walk into our trap?"
"Because we're smarter," said the Brit, with a skeptical glance at his
huge young partner. "I've left just enough clues to lead her here, but they're
not so obvious that she'll suspect an ambush." He looked at his watch, then
added, "You're in charge, Louie. I'm going back to camp for tea."
He disappeared into the bush, and the woman on the ground started
moaning again.
"His Majesty's gone," said Dooley. "Can I pop her again?"
Louie knelt over the woman and slipped a beefy hand beneath her khaki
shorts. Her eyes fluttered open as he massaged her vulva.
"She likes it," said Dooley, with a crooked grin. "I think she liked it
last night, too."
"Yeah, right," said Louie, removing his hand and licking his fingers.
"She liked it so much you had to gag her to stifle the screams."
Dooley was hurt. "Her trying to scream didn't mean she didn't like what
we was doing. We just didn't want to wake up the goddamn Brit."
Louie rubbed his chin. "Okay, you've got forty minutes. Do whatever you
want, but don't leave any marks."
As he rose, he looked down. The woman was awake, her eyes filled with
fear.
"Sorry, Rosie," he said softly, "but these boys are lonely and far, far
from home. And besides, you ain't got long to live. Pretty soon, it'll all be
over."
# # #
Ten hours later, at two o'clock in the morning, it was Louie's watch. He
wore earphones and sat hunched over a pair tiny TV screens. Two miles away,
where Rosie lay stretched out in the moonlight, cameras mounted in the trees and
microphones hidden in the bushes were silent sentinels.
The Brit seemed to have a pretty smart plan, Louie admitted to himself.
Sheena would see and hear no sign of an ambush when she showed up.
If she showed up. Louie was doubtful. His experience with good-looking
blondes, though limited, didn't jibe with the Brit's assessment of Sheena's
intelligence. She could be wandering hopelessly upriver in the jungle. Hell, she
might still be back in Basoko, wondering if Rosie had simply ditched her and
taken a bus to Kisangani. Lawton's trail of "clues" looked awfully hard to
follow - an empty canteen dropped here, a pair of bloody panties left there, no
two clues any closer than a mile apart.
His musings were interrupted by a sound. Did it come through the
earphones, or was it something here in camp? He looked around. Nothing. Everyone
was asleep. Then he heard it again. It sounded like twigs breaking. His eyes
darted back to the TV monitors. There it was: a shadowy form emerging from the
brush at the edge of the clearing. But it wasn't Sheena.
It wasn't anything human.
"Mr. Lawton," Louie called out. "we got a problem."
Within seconds, the Brit was peering over Louie's shoulder. Dooley
quickly joined him.
"What is it?" Dooley asked.
"A panther," Lawton said quietly. "A black leopard."
"Is it going to eat her?" Dooley asked hopefully.
"It had damned well better not," said the Brit. "Or I'll hunt down the
bloody beast and skin it for a rug."
On the TV screens, they could watch, from two different angles, as the
dark cat sniffed the woman's right foot, then worked its way up her leg to her
crotch.
"Yeah, kittycat," said Dooley, "I'd like a whiff of that, too."
"Shut up, you bloody fool," snapped Lawton. "Louie, you stay here."
He turned and called out, "Michael, Gene, Akbar, get the BXP's and come with me.
Tremain, keep watch over the gear."
"What about me?" asked Dooley.
"Stay here and be ready to use the hot button," said the Brit. "But only
if the beast actually attacks her. You understand?"
"Sure," said Dooley.
He and Louie resumed watching the TV screens.
"Christ, I wish we had this on tape," said Dooley. "A fuckin' panther
eatin' a girl. How much you think people would pay for that?"
# # #
But the panther, though hungry and clearly interested in this
immobilized, 122-pound piece of fresh meat, did not begin eating Rosie. It
explored her body with its nose and its tongue. Something wasn't right. The cat
sniffed the metal locket that lay on the ground, at the end of a leather cord
around the woman's neck. It had a peculiar odor. Then, in the woman's hair, and
on her lips, there was another scent - faint and old, but familiar. The panther
had encountered it a few months ago. It belonged to another animal like this
one, a human female. But she hadn't been helpless like this one. Far from it.
Suddenly, the cat realized it wasn't alone. Something was observing it
from beneath the trees. The panther crouched and prepared to defend its prey.
"We meet again, Black One," said Sheena, as she stepped into the
moonlight. "You were wise not to harm her. Now, you must return to the forest.
This is no meal for you."
The big cat hesitated, growled - and retreated. It wanted no fight with
this creature who carried a long metal tooth at her side.
Sheena knelt beside Rosie and softly caressed her cheek.
"Your ordeal is over, my love," she whispered. "The men who did this to
you will pay with their lives."
# # #
Louie and Dooley watched with mouths agape. Sheena, the semi-mythical
jungle queen, had appeared, after all. The blonde hair, the long legs, the
leopard-skin bikini - here was everything Lawton had led them to expect. And
even in the dim light of a half moon, they could see that she was spectacularly
beautiful.
Dooley broke their reverie. "She's talkin'. What's she sayin'?"
"She's telling Rosie that she's going to kick some serious ass when she
catches up with us. Which should be soon, since Lawton and the others are on the
way there. What about the button?
"I got it," said Dooley.
"Well, push the fucking thing."
"Not yet," said Dooley. "Not til she's closer to the locket. We want to
be damn sure we nail her."
"Hell," said Louie. "She's moving away. We're going to miss our chance."
Sheena was standing now, and seemed to be listening. She must have heard
the men crashing through the jungle in a rush to rescue Rosie from the panther.
"What should we do?" Louie asked, a note of desperation in his voice.
"Just wait a bit," said Dooley. "She'll try to get her little lesbo
bitch free so they can make a run for it. Then, bingo!"
Dooley was right. Sheena again knelt beside Rose. She pulled her knife
from its sheath at her waist and cut the leather thong that held Rosie's right
wrist to a stake in the ground.
Before moving on, Sheena couldn't resist bending down and brushing her
lips against Rosie's.
It was a fatal kiss.
Dooley pressed the red button on the transmitter. Two miles away, the
locket lying next to Rosie exploded.
Sheena recoiled, stunned by the sudden loud noise. In horror, she saw
blood gushing from Rosie's right ear. Then the powerful tranquilizing gas
released from the rocket reached her, and she toppled backward.
Lawton and the others arrived seconds later. Akbar rushed forward,
raising his assault rifle and preparing to bring the butt down on Sheena's
upturned face.
"Stay back," Lawton roared. He had warned the men not to damage the
jungle girl. It would hurt her price on the market. And he had also warned them
about the K24. If they moved in too quickly, the gas would disable them, along
with the intended target.
Overexcited, Akbar had ignored both warnings. Now, rifle raised, he
hesitated, staggered backward and sank to his knees. He glanced at Lawton, with
a look of shame and confusion, then dropped the gun and toppled forward on top
of Sheena, like a fallen lover.
Lawton gestured to Michael and Gene to stay clear of this touching
scene.
"How long before it disperses?" asked Gene.
"A minute or two," said Lawton. "Then we'll get cuffs on our prize, and
you can try to revive Akbar, the poor, dumb bastard."
"She's moving," Michael said nervously.
Sure enough, Sheena was squirming beneath Akbar. She pushed him off of
her, sat up groggily and shook her head.
"Quite extraordinary," Lawton muttered to himself. Then, in a louder
voice, "Take a deep breath, men, then hold it. Rush her and drag her over here."
Gene and Michael charged the blonde just as she had gotten to her feet.
Michael grabbed her from behind, pinning her elbows together. Gene slammed his
fist into her belly.
Her knees buckled, and she made a retching sound.
Michael picked her up, tossed her over his shoulder and hurried over to
Lawton.
"Lay her down," said the Brit. He handcuffed her wrists behind her, then
rolled her over onto her back.
The three men looked at her silently for a long time.
"What a body," Gene finally said.
"What a mouth," said Michael.
"What a very expensive piece of merchandise," said Lawton. "Remember, we
didn't come all this way just for a piece of ass or a jungle blow job. She is
worth ten million quid if we get her to our buyer alive and in good shape."
"So, no fucking?" Michael said sadly.
"Quite right. No fucking."
"And no rough stuff?" asked Gene.
"Right again. No rough stuff."
"Dooley's going to be very disappointed," said Gene.
"Your friend Dooley can go fuck himself," Lawton snapped.
"Or Rosie," suggested Gene. "He can fuck Rosie. She can be the
consolation prize. You know, until we get back near to civilization and have to
get rid of her."
"Is she still alive?" Lawton asked.
Michael walked over to the woman who was to be Dooley's plaything and
pressed two fingers against her neck.
"Still pumping," he said. "But probably not for long."
