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It was supposed to be this incredible opportunity. An honour, even, for students to be allowed to take part in an expedition like this. John saw it as a chance, his first real shot at getting his name out into the archeological world. He was so sure he wouldn’t miss, so sure of his shot, so sure he didn’t bother to look farther than the barrel of the gun.
Maybe if he’d listened better things would’ve been better. His professors had warned him many a time, hadn’t they? Warned him of the dangers and the follies an expedition like this could bring. John didn’t listen, he’d never liked to anyways, having always been so sure he knew what was best. He didn’t. No one really did, but the ‘if’ clung to his thoughts like the sweat and blood that now stuck to his skin.
If only he listened. If only he’d waited. If only he’d been more careful. If only he’d seen that thing in the road sooner than maybe… maybe he wouldn’t have ended up like this.
Maybe.
Probably.
Most likely.
The overturned jeep lay somewhere else behind a broken tree and thick foliage, the broken headlights still casting a singular beam off into the night. John didn’t bother himself with finding it, knowing that he and the vehicle’s contents had been flung out into the jungle when he failed to… When that thing had… When he should’ve done something else.
He wished he’d done something else.
John’s whole body hurt. He hadn’t tried to move yet, not really. Each breath was a labour in of itself, ribs aching with their own fractures while doubling as a weapon against his lungs. Adrenaline was still fresh in his system, though the shock of his circumstance was fading and gradually being replaced with pain. Something sticky and warm and undeniably dark dripped from a cut just above his eye.
John thought it must have been bleeding for a while. When he touched the wound the substance that came off on his fingers was already thicker, thicker than blood usually is, and was slow to replenish. He hoped moving wouldn’t agitate this injury like it would the rest.
With a sound of effort, he rolled himself onto his side and attempted to stand. He fell to his knees, a sudden dizziness forcing him down and bile up his throat before he was successful.
At least his legs weren’t broken.
Unsteady steps led John deeper into the jungle and towards the sound of running water. The gentle sound was difficult to make out between the thrumming of blood in his ears and the discorded alarum of the jungle. Still, it was there, and it gave John something to focus on beyond the churning of paranoid thoughts that permeated his brain.
This is it. This is the end. You can’t make it back from this.
That thing’s still out there. Out here, with you.
You’re lost. You’ve lost.
He let himself kneel once more at the edge of the stream. The water was cold against his skin, cold against sweltering night and the odds of its existence. He washed his hands slowly, clearing away blood and muck from bruised skin, and then did the same with his face and neck. He felt better. Slightly.
The relief lasted as long as John’s next breath. The pain in his chest could not be ignored.
He lowered his hands into the water again, pressing his scuffed palms against the curved stone beneath. Between cold solace and hot hurting, John could still think. He thought of his options, of what he should do, of what could be done, and of the water-worn channel beneath his fingertips.
John opened his eyes, though he had not realized they were closed, and noticed the stone.
Stone that had been carved, carried, and set here with purpose. Stone with seams between slabs and moss rooted in old edges. Stone that did not exist here naturally.
He removed his hands from the water and stood once more, gazing upstream into the threaded darkness and thick foliage. The channel would lead somewhere. Maybe somewhere with people. Maybe somewhere with hope.
John started on his new path.
It wasn’t a friendly path. Jungles weren’t friendly, John had come to learn. The stone channel provided a small space where trees could not root, but that did not stop their branches from reaching out to fill the gap. John wished he had a blade, or at least something more than his battered arms to break through the leaves with. Branches cut his hands and splinters embedded themselves into his palms, while some limbs refused to give way and left John to clamber over, under, and around them.
The path felt far too long for what it was, what it had to have been. John blamed it on his battered body, his shocked mind, and on the jungle itself for breaking his perception of time and distance.
Eventually and only eventually did John find the source of his stone channel. A cliff stood before him, taller than the night and etched with old growth. The water came from a pair of gaping mouths, two spouts whose streams bordered the pavilion before converging at the edge of the trees into the channel John had been following.
In any other situation, John would’ve been left in awe.
He wandered into the centre of the pavilion, looking up and around for a sign of… something. Someone.
Then, he began to laugh.
He couldn’t help himself. This was what he’d come here to find, wasn’t it? An ancient site of a lost civilization full of mysteries and forgotten knowledge. It was his chance, his shot, and he’d found it at a cost he’d never anticipated.
John stepped up to the cliff face and ran his fingers over the mossy surface. Even beneath the damp growth, he could feel the seems and carvings of what once must have been a giant door. Despite himself, John wished he had a pencil and paper to take rubbings with so he could study the mysterious designs later.
A sound came from the trees, a sound sharp enough to break through the rainforest’s soiree and rip John’s attention away from the towering stone. He scanned for the source, though the night yielded no answers.
Against better judgement, he spoke.
“Hey, I heard that!”
John didn’t know what it could have been. A person? An animal? A predator? He’d heard about how to deal with bears once, on a trip up north. He remembered something about getting big and loud, making himself seem like he wasn’t worth the trouble for a meal. Then again, he’d also heard to do the opposite, lie down and wait for the animal to pass before leaving in the opposite direction.
He didn’t think there were any bears in Thailand, but it couldn’t hurt to try.
“C’mon, I ain’t messing around! You hear me?” John tried again, but his visitor remained silent.
Tentatively, he took a step closer to the trees.
“I’m not a midnight snack, you got that? You better stay back!”
John received no answers. His mind was left to fill in the blanks the darkness left him.
Edges of leaves turned to fangs. Gaps in the foliage turned to gaping jaws. Gleaming dewdrops turned to leering eyes. Twisted branches became patient claws. Vines became the knotted coils of a serpentine ambush.
And the ambush came.
Almost instinctually John tried to drop to his knees, duck and roll out of the way only to be caught up in some unseen length of scales. They wrapped around him, efficient, precise, entangling the hand he raised to defend himself while encapsulating his body. It squeezed, drawing him closer to the head of the beast. John had closed his eyes by this point; he didn’t need to see the gaping jaws or the hissing tongue to know he’d become the next meal of some cold-blooded thing.
A hand rooted in his hair, uncareful nails cut into his scalp as it forced him to look up and meet the gaze of another being.
“Trespasser…” A serpentine tongue carried words it wasn’t made for with too much ease. The tone was a warning, an offended hiss lingering in the air as the addressed failed to immediately answer.
Shaking out of his prey-like shock, John kicked his legs out in an attempt to fight, to flee, to do something. The effort only earned him a strict squeeze from his living binds. Still at a loss, he stammered.
“What? No, I- Fuck- Wait!”
He squirmed and kicked again, managing to push an arm between his chest and the constricting mass of muscle around him. Free of some restrictions, he gasped at the jungle air, searching for sense in the living fever-dream he’d been forced into.
He was being held captive by a snake-man. An honest to god snake-man. Some academic part of him in the back of his mind reminded him of what they were really called, Naga, and what role the legends held for them. He didn’t indulge those thoughts for very long.
“You’re a Naga,” He gasped, straining his confines further to buy him another breath. “You’re real. Unless I’m dead and this is hell.”
“I assure you, trespasser, you will not perish until I deem it so.”
John shivered, both in fear and at the sensation of slowly shifting scales around him.
“I’m not a trespasser- I didn’t mean to come here!” He tried to reason with another gasping breath, “I just got hurt, and lost. I was looking for help.”
“And you did not think to question what caused your crash?” The naga asked, loosening his hold just enough so that John could better speak.
“I dunno… A wild animal or something-?
“A wild animal- Ha!” Despite his laughter, the naga was far from amused. “You dare mock me, trespasser? Have you already forgotten what position you’re in?”
Dumbfounded, John stammered for another response before it dawned on him. The inky shape in the road that lit up a deep, unnatural purple in his headlights. The sudden piercing of a tire that turned his last-second swerve into a careening descent into the jungle.
Realization and horror were clear in his eyes as he looked between the naga’s spear and scales. “You--! Why?! I haven’t even done anything yet!!”
“But you would have.” The naga hissed, suddenly releasing him from his coils and tossing him to the ground. He rose off the stones like a cobra poised to strike. John couldn’t do more than watch as terrible fear froze his body.
“You and your kin are twisted things. You poison the lands you touch; you take what is not yours and leave only ruins behind. Now you come here, seeking to desecrate the very Heart of the Earth herself! I will not- cannot allow it.”
John scrambled back on his knees, trying to put at least more than striking distance between himself and the naga. He knew trying to run would be futile. The naga must have known that too.
“We don’t want to hurt this place either!” John tried to reason. “We’re just here to learn!”
“Lies!” The naga spit back, his words an angry, impassioned hiss. “The Earth bares more than resources. She holds memories, stories embodied in treasured remnants. This is what you’ve come for, is it not!?”
John swallowed thickly, shifting back again. He couldn’t deny that if the expedition team found any artifacts they’d take them, study them, and then probably send them to be put on display somewhere. His childhood inspiration’s famous phrase was stuck on a loop in John’s head.
‘It belongs in a museum!’
He nodded slowly in response, fear and shame keeping him from meeting the naga’s eye.
In turn, the serpentine man scoffed, the sound somewhere between the click of his tongue and another offended hiss. “At least you can be honest…”
“What are you going to do? You gonna finish the job, make an example of me?” John muttered quietly, finally looking up to face his hunter. He hoped it was enough of a bluff to save his skin.
“That depends on you. If I allowed you to leave, what would you say? What would you do?” The naga replied, slowly circling his target. There was a finality to his words, like the answer he received decided more than just John’s fate.
John looked away, focusing on the mossy stones beneath his feet. He chose to speak quietly, pressing a hand to his damaged ribs in an attempt to relieve… something.
“I’d probably try to make it to camp. If I did, my colleagues are gonna want to know what happened. I’d tell them about the crash, pretty much have to. They’d never believe anything I said about you, though. But this place? Even if I didn’t tell them, I…”
John didn’t have a good answer. This was what they’d come to find, the entire point of the expedition. Even if he didn’t mention what he’d found the chances that they wouldn’t stumble upon it like he did seemed far too unlikely.
The naga watched him for a moment, considering John and his words. “You are not their leader, you cannot control them. That, I can understand.
They both went quiet. John looked at everything that wasn’t the naga; the stone pavilion, the channel and its stream, and the unending jungle that surrounded them. He could feel the serpentine man’s gaze, though he did not, could not meet it.
John waited through the pause, waited for his hunter to fulfill his duties to this place, whatever this it really was. ‘Not that I’ll ever get to find out, now.’
Eventually, the naga sighed. He reached out a hand to John as if to help him up from the floor. Hesitantly, John accepted the help.
“I will not show you the same mercy again.” The naga warned as he helped John to his feet. His grip was tight, and something all too human lingered beneath his gaze. “Hope we will not have to meet again, if not for your sake then for that of your friends.”
“Trust me, I’m not coming back here anytime soon.” John replied with a small laugh that ended with a wheeze. The full extent of his injuries had finally caught up to him. Fumes of adrenaline were the only reason he’d had yet to collapse.
“I’ll take you to the road but no further. The rest will be up to you.”
John nodded, relieved to have any help at all. Part of him wanted to talk more, just to pass the time. Another part of him knew he shouldn’t push his luck more than he already had.
They travelled in silence.
“John, oh my god!” Peggy cried when John showed up at camp moments before dawn, limping and alone. “What the hell happened to you? You should have been here hours ago and- is that blood!? Are you hurt?!”
Lafayette poked his head out from a tent that’d been set up as part of the base of operations. The moment he saw John and Peggy fussing over him, he rushed them inside. Alexander was there, too, half asleep and pouring over some maps before he saw John.
He couldn’t keep up with all the questions, between the ‘what the hell happened to you’s and the ‘where were you’s and the ‘are you alright’s and the questions that pertained to his actual physical condition. Somewhere between it all that he managed to get out that his jeep crashed and he managed to find his way here on foot.
They stopped asking questions once they realized how bad his condition was.
“We have to get back to the city, he needs a hospital!” Peggy insisted.
Alexander tried to contest her. “If we leave we’ll miss out on everything! John wanted to do this more than any of us. If we go then we’ll-”
“Then nothing. John cannot try for another chance if we cannot try again at all.” Lafayette left no room for argument. “We leave as soon as we can.”
John didn’t say anything between all this. He was relieved. Relieved that he wouldn’t hurt for much longer, relieved that his friends were here for him, and relieved he’d probably never see this jungle again.
Sleep began to take him. Tired thoughts remembered the naga, the legend he’d met face-to-face, a hunter turned helper. He frowned at the seed of disappointment that was beginning to sprout.
He’d never get to know his name.