Dracula of the Apes 3, стр. 31
She much preferred killing Bakwaniri with the long spear she carried slung across her back, but the arrows were better for this harrying hunt, and they were expendable if a shot went wide, or was fouled in the trees as she ran.
Of course, it was a dangerous thing to do at night for nocturnal predators would soon be out upon the hunt.
And the Bakwaniri moved quickly through the jungle despite their infirmities and disfigurements, and she had to set a reckless pace to keep up. A pace that could easily put her in harm’s way if her quarry was to recognize its losses and lie in wait ahead.
But, Harkon still wanted more tufts of hair for her belt, and she wondered again why the Bakwaniri were moving in such numbers and at night. Those she had glimpsed were younger and healthier—certainly the two she had killed were.
But she could not imagine what force had compelled them to run so far, and so fast.
Fury had burned in her eyes when she’d first seen the large group near sunset, and she had rashly contemplated finding a place ahead of them where she could wait in ambush. The right geography could give her the advantage, but in the growing dark, surrounded by thick jungle she could easily be outflanked and overpowered.
If she wished to continue her quest to free those of her people that were Bakwaniri slaves—and her son—then she could not take the risk, even if it was sure to shed much enemy blood.
She had followed the large group for an hour or more, and then watched as the hunters stopped and removed their skull-masks to eat and drink.
Two disfigured men tattooed with bones and skulls stepped away from the others to converse in their harsh and roaring language. By their manner Harkon thought them leaders and had knocked an arrow to kill, before she’d set the weapon aside. Slaying them might break the group up, but it would turn one large enemy into many potential threats for her.
After some moments more of resting, the Bakwaniri leaders had split their larger group of hunters into two. One continued west, while the other chose a trail that wandered north.
Harkon chose the smaller of the two to follow upon the western course, for she had collected lots of arrows in her vengeance, and she hoped to slay many enemies along the trail.
If she survived that undertaking, she could track the larger group in the north.
With her grin growing into a fierce smile, Harkon ran after the Bakwaniri hunters knowing she could push her luck a little farther still.
CHAPTER 13 – Theories and Shadow
Van Resen sat in the dark while at the foot of his armchair Phillip Holmes snored as though he were in a room at a luxury hotel. He did not like the young man’s presumption of entitlement, but he tried to give him the benefit of the doubt.
It was difficult to predict how anyone might behave in unusual circumstances, and being young, Holmes was more likely to react to trouble in an immature and impulsive, certainly a selfish fashion.
Perhaps that was how he could sleep so comfortably, knowing that his capacity for self-preservation would see all of his valiant companions confront impending dangers long before he ever would.
Seen in purely Darwinist terms it was a sound survival strategy regardless of how distasteful the scientist found it.
On Holmes’ left lay Jacob Raines, and past him slept Mr. Quarrie. Those two men drew comfort from one another; it was plain to see, prompting Van Resen to contemplate the power of human interaction and comradery. Studies had shown that on his own, a man was liable to suffer depression or disease where he was likely to be less afflicted if in the company of others.
Those same studies went on to say that groups of men showed the capacity to thrive in well-nigh hopeless situations. He had read several papers about the effects of isolation on the human psyche with a focus on criminal incarceration and prisoners of war where “strength in numbers” was more than just a saying.
Of course, there were exceptions to the rule. Van Resen himself found physical isolation liberating when he was doing research, while he felt confined in social settings.
Looking at the dark shapes that slept at his feet, he was shocked to feel a positive emotion. It was surprising how quickly his own requirements for comfort had adapted to a changing and unfamiliar environment.
For his entire life the scientist had preferred to be alone in the teeming city, where here with jungle on all sides, even Phillip Holmes provided some reassurance to him.
Mental and emotional stress effected change in character.
Van Resen spent a few minutes listening to the rhythmic sounds coming from his sleeping friends, and he wondered if the other castaways could have found their lodgings so comfortable if they had not also been utterly exhausted.
So physical biology became another factor influencing behavior.
The scientist’s fingers pressed the journal he’d been reading prior to extinguishing the lamp and conserving precious oil. The book’s leather cover was old, but its smooth finish comforted him in the dark, as he wished again that languages had been among his studies.
Throughout the evening, the scientist had been drawn back to the diary, and he yearned to have the time, resources—and illumination—to study it more thoroughly. Mrs. Quarrie had been helpful, and devoted a good deal of time pouring over the pages. Unfortunately, her love of puzzles did not suffice, and those languages she knew were insufficient.
Neither of them could make head or tail of the “runic” lettering that made up the bulk of the record, though the author occasionally slipped into what Van Resen guessed might be “Hungarian” when jotting notes in the margin. The scientist recognized and thought the notes similar to