On closer examination, I saw signs of a struggle. Though none of the prints were distinctly clear, it was apparent that a person had been dragged away from the plane. There must have been lots of them, because Charlie was pretty tough and no doubt difficult to subdue. Maybe I was just paranoid; maybe Charlie was thrown from the plane and was found by some friendly natives. I thought that maybe they had taken Charlie someplace safe, and at any minute now they'd find me and offer me the hospitality of their island paradise. I almost had myself convinced of this, when I got a second look at the plane's hatch. That's when I came to the horrible realization that it had somehow been ripped open from the outside. There was nothing remotely nearby that could have done this. In fact, even if we had collided with a tree or rock face it would have smashed the door in, not torn it open. There was no question; I would find no safety here. I had to prepare myself for the worst. I searched the plane for Charlie's gun. I found little of any value as a weapon but a machete and Charlie's set of golf clubs.

I grabbed one of the heavier clubs and the machete and headed in the direction of the prints. I knew it was probably a stupid idea, and that I was probably terribly outnumbered; but I had to at least try to rescue Charlie. They obviously didn't know I was here, and I figured if I were sneaky about breaking him out we'd get a good head start before they even noticed we were gone. Unfortunately, I had no idea how we'd escape the island, but I wasn't going to worry about that now. Perhaps Charllie would have an idea when I found him.

The prints led to a path trough the nearby forrest or jungle. I wasn't sure what it was. I knew little about biology besides where it involved first aid, and even that knowledge was limited to field dressings. I started down the path and deeper into the woods. At this point I was sure I had not been noticed back in the plane.

There were occasional splattering of blood, and broken branches were strewn about the path. I even found one of Charlie's shoes lying in the plain sight. There had been no attempt to even minimally conceal the direction they had fled. Soon, however, the sun began to set; and I began to regret my foolish bravado. I didn't turn back though, instead I pulled out my mag light and continued towards Charlie and the unknown.

Soon it was completely dark, and I was guided only by my flashlight and the trail of cut foliage. My imagination began to work overtime. Twisted roots became snakes; all insects seemed deadly; trees hid ferocious predators; shadows were really malign spirits. I could practically smell death in the air. It felt like it would suffocate me, like it was trying to strangle the very life out of me. I could hear my own heart pounding, like it was working harder just to keep me alive. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't breath. I fell to the ground, eyes tightly closed, clutching my ears in an attempt to shut it out. I wasn't sure why, but I knew I was going to die. I lay there for some time before I realized that I wasn't dying and that I should pull myself together. Slowly I opened my eyes. Luckily my things were not lost. I uncovered my ears and stood up. That's when I first heard them. It had not been my heart pounding but the distant sound of large drums. I grabbed my stuff and continued down the path.

The further I walked, the louder the drums became. But there was more to it. They had a kind of hypnotic effect on me. All that was important was the their steady throbbing. I had almost forgotten the danger that lay ahead of me when I was shocked back to my senses by the sound of voices. I concentrated on them,

trying to make sense of what they were saying. It sounded like they were singing. I couldn't make much more out than that. The language, though vaguely familiar to me, was completely undecipherable. It was like a melody from a dreams, it flowed through my mind with disconcerting intimacy. I was sure that I had heard it before, but I couldn't figure out where, or what it meant. All I knew was that my mouth was forming the words with the song, and I had no idea what I was saying.

Soon I realized it wasn't a song. Now I was almost close enough to see them. It was kind of chant, and I was saying it. I forced myself to stop, and quietly tried to find a good place to get a look at what was going on. The drum and the chant echoed through my brain. It had a strange seductive quality about it. It was a struggle to keep myself from blindly running to join the rhythm's source. Eventually I found a place where I could see everything. I was crouched behind some bushes, overlooking a circular section of beach. It took me a while to make sense of what I was seeing, and even after I did I found myself in a severe state of denial and terror.

First there was the stench, like decaying flesh. It was worse even than the trenches in Bosnia. I had to fight to stop retching. In the middle of the beach was a huge bonfire. Around it, engaged in frenzied dance, were horrible deformed people, who barely could be classified as human. They chanted and danced, while a priest performed some kind of ritual on an alter which protruded into the sea. I took out my camera with the telephoto lens and peered through it in order to see the ritual better. That's when I saw Charlie.

The priest offered prayer to a statue of a horrible deity as he gestured at Charlie who was gagged and tied naked to a stone pillar. Tears ran down his face, and even through the gag I could hear him scream and beg for mercy. The priest took out a large knife and help it up to the statue as if he were seeking approval. He stood there for some time chanting and gesturing.

I was at a loss. I had to save Charlie, but how? I looked around for a way to reach Charlie undetected, but before I had a real chance to find one all attention was drawn up to the alter. The nature of the chanting changed. The priest stopped praying to the idol and started leading the group in a responsive prayer. All eyes were on that alter, it was...hypnotic. I, myself, was unable to avert my eyes from Charlie. Something was about to happen. Almost unconsciously, I held down the shutter on the camera as I watched this horror unfold.

The prayer built up to a feverish fury. The priest's voice boomed in a rhythmic, almost erotic meter. I felt myself being drawn into the ceremony. It all seemed so natural to me. I felt part of a kind of unity which I had never experienced before. Before I knew it, I joined in with the chanting. "IA! IA! CTHULHU FTAHGN!" I breathed, as my camera registered picture after picture of the alter before me.

Suddenly the priest spun around. Before I had a chance to react, he raised his knife and plunged it into Charlie's abdomen. As blood seethed out over the alter, Charlie's screams and struggles increased. The priest signaled towards a direction I could not see, and a second later a large group of people were dragged up before the alter. There were at least a hundred of them, all bound and gagged, all obviously terrified.

One by one they were thrown onto the alter, each one masterfully vivisected by the priest before my eyes. The onlooking crowd cheered on, as one by one, adult and child were brutally dismembered and left to writhe painfully to their deaths. Screams echoed as blood flowed from the alter and stained the sand and water below. I stood helpless as I watched, fearful that I'd be discovered and slaughter as well.

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