A Jungle Can Hide Many Secrets

The men hacked their way through the jungle, fighting viciously for every foot of progress that they made. They’d run out of food the day before, and unless they found a water source quickly, they wouldn’t make it another two days. The rendezvous point, with its waiting helicopter, was a three day walk north. Aiden lowered his machete, needing a moment to just breathe. Looking around at his six companions, men that he had been through so much with, he realized for the first time that he didn’t expect them to survive. He closed his eyes and felt himself droop.

“Captain, do you hear that?”

Aiden opened his eyes. “Hear what?”

“It sounds like there’s a woman singing over there.”

The men froze instantly. Each strained to hear over the sound of his own breathing. Finally, Aiden heard a gentle warble coming from the left of their position. There was definitely a woman singing, and she was close. With a renewed sense of purpose, Aiden began frantically hacking at vines. His heart beginning to pound with a desperate hope, he made a beeline toward the mysterious song.

The exhausted men stumbled into a large clearing that surrounded the ruins of an ancient temple complex. Huge, crumbling towers dotted with moss-covered carvings dominated the expanse. Seven small and tidy cottages with thatched roofs sat in the shadow of the imposing ruin. The singing woman had frozen at the edge of a small pond, surprised by the sudden appearance of sweaty, disheveled men. After several seconds of mutual staring, she rose and began slowly walking toward the group.

Smoothing back her long black hair, and clutching her bright dress in apparent nervousness, the songstress broke the extended silence. “Hello. May I ask who you are?”

Achingly weary, and engulfed by a painful sense of relief, Aiden didn’t think to question how the strange woman spoke English. “My name is Aiden. My men and I lost our way in the jungle. We have no food, and very little water. Can you help us?”

The beautiful woman smiled, flashing a charming set of dimples. “My name is Dakini. This is my village. Please, come with me. We have food, water and shelter. Welcome.”

After bathing in a stream that ran near the temple, the mercenaries gathered around the village’s central fire. The other residents of Dakini's village filtered over to join them. They all offered platters of food to the starving men before sitting primly with modestly downcast eyes. There were seven residents, including Dakini, and all were stunningly beautiful women.

“We were always a small village,” Dakini explained, “but a year ago all of our husbands and children went missing. We never found out what happened to them. The village is rich in food, and there is little work for us to do, but we are lonely. We have prayed every night that we might find new husbands one day.” Dakini looked down shyly for a moment before continuing. “I am sorry, I don’t mean to burden you with our problems. Please, get some rest and we will talk again tomorrow.”

After the villagers left the men alone around the fire, Aiden asked them their thoughts about Dakini’s tale. Conversation went back and forth for several minutes, before coming to a consensus.

Sam, the oldest member of the band, summed up their thoughts. “Captain, we’re mercenaries. We have no family, no one that loves us, no friends except for each other. Maybe we found this place for a reason. Maybe this is fate.”

So, the men determined to offer themselves as husbands to the most beautiful women that they had ever seen. They settled into village life, and for several weeks they enjoyed the first sense of peace and happiness that any of them could remember. However, Aiden could not shake off the feeling that something wasn’t right in the village. One night, waking up from a nightmare that he couldn’t quite remember, Aiden realized that he was alone in the cottage.

Slipping quietly into the night’s darkness, he heard chanting coming from the ruins of the temple. Flowing from shadow to shadow, he quietly made his way to the door and peeked inside. What he saw left a grisly imprint that his mind could never erase: seven hideous goblins, wearing the clothes of the village women, feasting on the flesh of a spitted, roasted man. Stumbling back to his cottage, Aiden realized that if he wanted to save his men, he would have to act like nothing was wrong when his wife returned. The next day, while the wives were off washing clothes in the stream, Aiden gathered his crew and told them what he had seen. At first, several doubted Aiden’s account. But he was their captain. He had saved them all on many occasions, and such trust is not easily broken. The men realized that they would have to escape quickly before they became dinner themselves. Grabbing what supplies they could carry, the seven set off through the jungle, headed north. Aiden and his men traveled through the tangled greenery as quickly as they could, constantly looking over their shoulders, terrified that the goblins would find them. They stumbled into the rendezvous point three hours later, and it stunned them into speechlessness. It was far closer than they had thought, and the helicopter was still waiting. Relieved, the men piled into the chopper and told the pilot to take off immediately. As they lifted up above the tree line, Aiden looked down into the upturned face of his goblin wife. The monstrous women had been only minutes behind them. His men had survived, he had gotten them out safely. However, the nightmares of that bestial face, and their barely escaped fate, never went away.