Sacrifice to the Emerald God by Paul Blades Read Free Book Online Page B

small waterway would protect them.
          The raft chugged another five miles or so up stream before they came to a wide bend in it forming a little lagoon. The stream had left a sandy deposit there perfect for beaching the boat and there was a large clearing before the jungle became thick and overgrown again.
          Margie was lost in her reverie of misery but came to attention when she felt the raft bump against the shore. Wherever they were going, they were there.
          A good bandit always had more than one hideout. You never knew when and where you would need to duck away from pursuers and this was one of Diego’s. Pepe and Diego, respectfully referred to by his men as el Jefe , jumped from the raft and pulled it onto the beach while Manuelo lifted the outboard up and locked it in place. The clearing looked innocuous enough. Anyone coming by, and that would have been once in every ten years or so, would have seen no evidence that this was one of Diego’s camp sites, other than, perhaps, if they looked closely enough, the charred remains of a fire.
          While Manuelo pulled the boat further up on the shore, Pepe and Diego trotted off into the jungle to make sure that their stash had been undiscovered and remained unplundered. About a hundred yards in they found a tree that they had marked and then paced off ten steps due south. Using sticks they found on the ground, they pawed at the earth until they heard the distinct sound of hitting metal. They looked at each other joyfully. A few minutes later, they had uncovered a large, rusted, steel footlocker and dragged it from its hole. Diego opened it and smiled when he saw that their supplies were still there.
          Now bandits aren’t known for conserving resources or delaying gratification, but the clever Diego had insisted that they stock the footlocker with some of the necessities of life. Inside were cans of food, sleeping bags, two small, two man tents, a few bottles of brandy, machete s, a large, black pot with a burnt bottom, matches, a lantern and other useful miscellanea, even some cigarettes. They would be able to eat and sleep and plan for their next move in relative comfort.
          Margie had struggled to her knees so that she could see where they had landed. There was nothing that she saw that gave her any hope that her plight would soon be alleviated. She watched while Diego and Pepe emerged from the trees with the large footlocker dangling from its handles between them. They put it down and her captor barked some orders to his men who proceeded to break out the supplies and make camp. She trembled when she saw the large, cruel man come back to the raft. He unceremoniously pushed her over to her side and released her ankles from her wrists and then untied them.
          “Come on conchita ,” he said. “Come and see your new home.”
          The unhappy woman trembled as he frog marched her to the middle of the camp site. He pushed her to her knees and then went on with the business of settling in. He opened one of the bottles of the local, 150 proof brandy and took a long swig. “Ahhhhhhh!” he exclaimed when he had swallowed it. It was great to be alive and on the game again. A day of rest and then, well, who knows? He had a score to settle with the gringa first. She had scratched his face and drawn blood. He would make sure in a moment that she would never do it again.
          While his compadres made up the tent and started a fire, he wandered over to the edge of the clearing looking for a suitable tree. He found one with a branch about seven feet off of the ground. This would do nicely. He went back to the unhappy woman and ordered her to her feet. Her free and naked breasts swayed enticingly as she struggled to stand. The hem of her skirt was still tucked into her waistband displaying her long, thin thighs and her furry, blond sex and his cock swelled at the thought of piercing her there. Well, that could