Under Cover

Ron Koppelberger

Under Cover

The symphony of custom was largely ignored by the Eagle and his crew of mercenaries. The enticement was spooned in careful portions of curiosity and alluring secret discovery. The capitol of conceived dreams was preparedness and Eagle was prepared, with exception to the burlap covered cage. He defined the cage as a passage to reward, to mysteries unknown, the seat of discovery and a thousand told tales of riches and wonder.
His men were background visions of greasy green and sprays of moss, shadowed in silhouette they shared an uncommon commitment to the yield of a good cook fueled by the eagles promise of glory. The cage rattled in the jungle clearing.
The locals had the rudiments of civilization in the form of machetes and bowie knives, they had been used in the construction of the cage. The Eagle had supplied both of those items to the village in exchange for the contents of the cage.
Suds grumbled to the rear and the black and white reality of the cage moved him forward, his momentum carrying him to the edge of the cage. Suds lifted the burlap cover and screamed like a banshee; a moment later he lay motionless on the trampled ground. Eagle thought of cosmic travelers and the ultimate rifle. His expression was grimly determined.
With a test of wont, the need for what lay ahead he waved Quay forward to the cage. Quay snubbed the coincidence that fate had dealt Suds as he crawled forward a long blade between his teeth. The Eagle watched as Quay trespassed the boundary of destiny. Moving in to the clearing he took a wide berth of Suds lifeless body as he moved to the opposite side of the cage. Shifting the burlap a few inches, he peered into the cage. The cage shook and quivered beneath the burlap and Quay gasped inaudibly as he collapsed in a heap of convulsing camouflage and war paint.
In unison and fear the three remaining men fled back down the dirt path to the hummer that had driven them to the edge of the path. The Eagle barely noticed as a cloud cast a dark silhouette across the jungle hammock, blocking the few spears of sunshine that ventured the balmy jungle shadow. Eagle moved forward, “The value of a good hunt,” he said aloud as he pulled back the burlap covering, “….is as good as the hunter.” The jungle echoed with his screams as he found his treasure and his death.