The Adventures of Latakia Billows

Episode XVII: Burnt Jerky


Five bodies crawled along the wall once more, but all of them were tied to a rope this time, and all those ropes were tied to Asia. It was slower going this time, but fear didn’t weigh quite so heavily on them, since everyone would share the burden of getting each other to the top. Then again, they still had to contend with the occasional falling rock and debris.

They felt like their journey was getting closer to an end. It had to be, really, because they didn’t have the strength to keep going much longer. They had to believe that the end was closer than the beginning. Returning definitely didn’t seem like much of an option.

The group was about a quarter of the way up the cliff when Latakia’s stomach started cramping up. He had been the most cavalier about the adventure and the one who had packed the least food, eaten the earliest meal and assured them all they’d be back by dinner. Of course, they all saw this as the hyperbole it was intended as, but none of them realized how long the trek would take. Latakia started to untangle himself from the rope.

“What are you doing?” Asia asked, panicking at the thought of how easily he got loose from between them all.

“Don’t worry,” he said, seeing the fear she was unable to hold back. “I was a boy scout.”

“No you weren’t,” she said, as he disappeared into the darkness.

“So do we go back down or head up or just hang out here?” Jose asked.

“I’m not waiting for him or anyone else,” Rose said, still unhinged a bit from his earlier breakdown. “We climb.”

It wasn’t a particularly hard climb, with plenty of jutting rocks to offer a solid grip, except two of them had misgivings about leaving Chris alone below, but still they kept pace with the soldiers. A cave halfway up the mountain offered some shelter and rest, breaking up their longest climb of the journey. Asia gathered up some dried roots, and Jose fiddled with every ignitable item he had until he got a cigarette lighter to spark a flame. They had a fire going within minutes, which they built more for a bit of light than they did for the warmth, the underground being pretty stifling already, although the darkness did have its chilly moments.

“One night, while I was out ridin’,” Jose’s voice echoed as quietly as possible off the cave walls. “The graveyard shift, midnight ‘til dawn, the moon was as bright as a readin’ light for a letter from an old friend back home.”

“You and your damn singing,” Asia complained. “Don’t you know any new songs?”

“And he asked me, ‘Why do you ride for your money? Tell me why do you rope for short pay? You ain’t a’gettin’ nowhere and you’re losin’ your share…’”

“Boy, you must have gone crazy out there.”

As always, Latakia was right on cue. He slid in next to them all and sat silently, enjoying their penetrating stares as he intentionally left them in the dark as long as he dared. It was “as long as he dared” because Asia was certain to throw something at him. She did. He never expected, though, that it would be on fire. He brushed embers off his face, off his hat, off his shirt, but Asia’s anger had faded, so he settled down in the circle round the fire. With a burning branch plucked from the micro blaze, Latakia lowered the flame into his bowl and drew deep on the still-moist latakia until it seemed to be burning on its own. He laughed in his head, enjoying how this new activity had earned him even more time to avoid saying what he had done down below while they climbed without him, but he did take the opportunity to wipe the blood from his machete to give them a clue.

With an air of “ironic” patronization, Latakia pulled his pipe to pontificate without a pulpit to the pewless congregation.

“Do we remember the criticisms hurled my way about my lack of planning?” he asked, mostly directed at Asia, and though the question was clearly rhetorical, he paused for dramatic effect. “No one? Really? Well, as it turns out, there was good reason for your memory lapse, as I’m sure you won’t even be able to believe you once doubted my abilities to improvise, not that any of you ever doubted me.”

When he finally finished, his pipe stem was pointed directly at Asia, an unnecessary emphasis that riled her temper.

“If you let this go one single second longer,” she shouted, “I’ll send you straight back down to the bottom of this cliff, free to do whatever you were doing, as long as you don’t need any solid bones!”

Latakia held up his hand, as if that would have stopped a ferocious ex-girlfriend. Once again, they waited for him, but they did so with violence behind their collective gaze. He finally gave in.

From inside his satchel, Latakia flung dead flesh at Asia. He did it so she would scream. She didn’t. Instead, she grabbed the object and hurled it at him, and then she wished she had another to throw when he laughed at her. The sickening thump of the meat slapping the floor far below echoed back up to them.

“Luckily, I brought more than enough,” Latakia said.

He reached back into his bag for a half dozen more servings of the mystery meat and started handing it out.

“Someone needs to find sticks for us to roast them on.”

Rose and Gylden pulled out knives to carve up some spits, taking a grateful break from Latakia and his immanent self-congratulatory tale. Silently, they scuttled back into the darkness in search of suitable sticks, catching Latakia, out of the corner of their eyes, standing as much as he could under the low ceiling in search of a presentation element for his story.

“There I was…” It wasn’t really the way he wanted to start his story, but it was a classic opening, and he was willing to take comfort over style at this point. “… backtracking in the darkness, back among the vermin and the rodents. They looked out from their holes and their corners and their shadows, staring up at the god who had returned to them. Little did they know” — another comfortable cliché — “that their god was a vengeful god, quick to anger and unforgiving in his fury. With my right hand, I wielded the object of their undoing…” He pulled his machete to illustrate the majesty of his actions, but it didn’t have the same effect, as he stood doubled over under the low hanging roof. “… and with my left hand, I chose the objects of my wrath one by one, ending their wretched lives with the flash of my holy blade.”

A small spear flew out of the darkness, piercing the ground between Latakia’s feet and standing as phallic as his ego.

“That’ll do,” he said, and he returned immediately to his story. “So I found myself surrounded by beady-eyed rodents, and I…”

“We better find this treasure soon,” Asia interrupted, “or someone will be coming back down here to find Latakia Billows.”

“At least let him cook us some mole before you kill him,” Jose said.

“Have you ever eaten mole?” Asia asked. “You might be asking me to kill him before you stomach is full.”

As always, Asia’s words were born in wisdom. The mole, while technically serving its purpose of filling stomachs, was gamey and tough and very reminiscent of burnt jerky. The chef was certainly more to blame than the poor moles, but at least none of their meat went to waste. Empty stomachs forgive a multitude of culinary shortfalls.

The food may have been nearly unforgiveable, but sitting around the small fire, with plenty of food and no sign of Indians or booby traps, lulled them into a sense of comfort and safety, and one by one, they leaned up against the cave wall and gratefully settled down for a nap, falling asleep to the sound of dirt falling down the cliff like a gentle shower.

They began waking up a mere half hour later, still somehow feeling their energy and their hope renewed. That hope remained as they packed up their gear, wrapped the ropes to connect them all, and started back up the cliff again. Even the dirt falling on their heads didn’t dampen their spirits.

The climb ended before they expected it, but they were relieved for a horizontal surface on which to stand. Rose and Gylden panned this new room with their lights. It was an incredibly large room, open enough that they could barely make out the ceilings, but there was nothing sophisticated about its construction. The rough walls curved seamlessly into the ceiling and back down the other side. There was what might have been a tunnel leading out the other side of the huge dome, but there was one issue to deal with first.

“Uh, Latakia,” Jose asked, “why is the ground moving?”

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