Winter Storm

January 12, 2010
By JamaicanKangaroo BRONZE, Logan, Utah
JamaicanKangaroo BRONZE, Logan, Utah
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
"The only thing that should be seperated by color, is laundry."

“No! I missed!” Steve said.

Steve Roberts was an avid hunter; he was a large man that had a very temperamental but sensitive side. He loved to hunt big game like elk, moose, rhino, hippo, and now on a new hunting adventure- snow leopard. His guide, Noam told him to be patient, but his impatient nature didn’t allow him to. Noam was a descendant of the Zenata tribe that lives in the Alps. He was a very great tracker, and loved to take tourists out on hunting adventures. They had been tracking a large male, but the leopard that Steve just shot at was female, Noam was sure of it.
“Something is wrong…” Noam said.
“What do you mean? I just missed the shot; we have to keep following it.” Steve replied.
“No, that’s not what is troubling me, I had thought the leopard had just jumped down the mountain, but the leopard you just shot at was a female, and the leopard we were tracking was most definitely male.” Noam said while looking around.
“The leopard didn’t go down the mountain and is probably stalking us right now…” Noam said while he crouched low.
The leopard was in fact stalking them; it had walked towards the hill but then had followed its trail exactly backwards to an outcropping of rocks. It now stared down at the pair with large red eyes, and as soon as he saw the shorter one crouch low in a defensive position he leapt from the rocks and extended his claws.
“Look out!” Steve yelled, “It’s up there!” Steve aimed his gun towards the hill, but the leopard was too fast. It dodged and ducked around the rocks, getting closer and closer. The men were back peddling away from the rocks when Noam tripped; the leopard was on top of him so fast Steve only saw a white blur. “AHHH!” Noam yelled. He tried to reach for his knife but was too slow; he was holding back the animals snarling jaws. The leopard’s neck was so strong he barely felt the man’s powerful arm holding on to it; his claws were digging deeper and deeper into the man’s stomach. “Take the shot!” Noam yelled at Steve.
“I can’t, I don’t want to hit you by accident!” Steve replied while he tried to get a better angle on the beast.
“Just shoot it!” Noam yelled, the strength in his arm starting to fatigue.
“Okay, okay!” Steve said while he cocked the rifle, only to realize that there was no round in the chamber. He frantically searched his body for another shell, but Noam had insisted on carrying the ammo.
“I don’t have any ammo!” Steve yelled towards the writhing twosome. Noam’s strength had fully given out and he was running only on adrenaline now, the teeth of the leopard were getting closer and closer to his neck. “Listen to me… you must… ru… ru… run… quickly now… run… RUN!” Noam’s final breath was used up, he had no strength. The leopard had him by the throat and was shaking his corpse like a ragdoll. “Oh no! I’ve got to get out of here!” Steve whispered as he ran back the way they had traveled up the mountain.

“Hello? Who is it?” I say as I stumble to the front door, while drinking my coffee and trying to get rid of the horrible hangover I was experiencing.
“It’s me Uncle Jones, Brad.” A voice from the other side of the door replied.
“Oh, Brad. Well come on in.” I say as my nephew and apprentice Brad Mitchell walked in. He was a businessman through and through, it was actually rather sad, I was more laidback, in fact I’ve been called a hippie by some people. We walked into my laboratory that was connected by the hallway in my house. We were working on an experiment that involved how the sea anemone could regenerate its tentacles, which could be used in the treatment of cancer. I am a marine biologist that has a very large business specializing in selling marine animals to schools and stores. Brad told me that he needed to get some paperwork filed; I told him I’d be sleeping in the next room and to call me in if anything happened.

“Uncle! Wake up! You have an important phone call, someone named Jessi Roberts.”
“What!? Who did you say was calling?” She was an old colleague of mine, who had worked with me in an internship, at UWI in Mona, Jamaica. We also had a very heated love relationship for years, her first son Johnny is also my son. We were going to get married when she was offered a position as CEO of a major computer business. We opted to stay friends but Johnny wouldn’t know about me until he was ready. I still reside in Jamaica, but she moved away soon after the business offer. “Hello? Jessi, is that you?”
“Doc, how are things going?” She asked.
“I’m doing just fine, how are things with you? How’s little Johnny, well he’s around what? Thirteen now?” I replied.
“Oh Johnny is doing just fine, look Doc the reason I called is because of Steve.” Steve Roberts was Jessi’s Husband, He was a very strong willed, and highly energetic man. “What’s wrong? Is Steve alright?”
“Well actually, no I haven’t heard from him in over four days. He was in the Alps hunting snow leopards, and was supposed to call me with his satellite phone on Monday, but today being Friday I’m getting very worried. He told me that there could be complications, but I’m still scared.” She sounded very worried.
“Steve is very resourceful and strong, I would expect that he is just getting too into the whole hunting atmosphere, I’m sure he’ll call.” I tried to sound reassuring, but my voice was shaking slightly. If I know Steve he would never keep his wife waiting, and with a satellite phone he would be able to call anywhere on those mountains, I’m afraid something bad may have happened. “Well do you think you could at least think about what could have happened? If he doesn’t call me back by Sunday, I’ll call you again.” She sounded really worried.
“Of course, I will do anything I can to help you out, you can count on me.” I didn’t know how much I would regret saying that because on Monday morning, I received another call from Jessi, still no word from Steve. I told her not to worry.
I didn’t think I would have to call upon my former CIA days that were a very scary and difficult part of my life. I was just a young boy when I first went to the military; they knew right away I could be used for more than just infantry. I was sent to the CIA five years after enlisting they told me I would be Spec. Ops. At the time I was absolutely thrilled. Little did I know I would be still working with them twenty five years later. I told her that I would fly up to the landing site he used and do my best to get a hold of him.

It’s a good thing I had very good connections in the northern Switzerland area. I didn’t think that Sven would respond to the e-mail I sent, but sure enough a plane was waiting for me right off the coast, about a two minute walk from my home. He said he would have it stocked with the “luggage” I would need, it was an old code word that the CIA used. I didn’t want to have to use the assets I have in the U.S. Gov. I was about to tell the pilot where we were headed when he turned the plane around and got up to speed to take off. He must have been briefed before he left. The “luggage” that Sven was talking about included, a version of the KGB pistol that would fire rounds without more than the noise of the trigger being pulled, I couldn’t imagine where he found a PSS silent pistol, but he is a very powerful man, and also very persuasive. It also included a K7-Soviet; the Russian rifle was very powerful but didn’t hold a lot of ammo. I took both with spare ammunition for both. The copilot was watching me as I loaded and unloaded the weapons, as well as sighted them.
“You know your weapons, Dr. Jones.” He finally said.
“Yes, now turn around you f*****.” I reply. The copilot just gave me a quizzical look than turned towards the front. The awkward silence that followed was soon drowned out by the thunderous wind that the Alps generated.
“GO! GO! GO!” The pilot yelled towards me, indicating that I was to jump, the wind was fierce and the cold was blistering, but I knew that my friend was down there somewhere. I jumped.

“Ugh! My head…” I slowly lift my head from the snow, and shook off the thin layer of fresh powder that had covered my body. I then stood and found my ammo that had fallen out of my pack, which was when I realized I was in an underground cave. “How the hell did I get here?” I said.
“Gnock choe glim tah?” A voice behind be questioned. “What?” I say as I turn and see a man standing there, he was painted from head to foot in a spiraling pattern. I had studied an ancient language of a tribe that lived in Alpine caves called the Zenata tribe in college; Jessi was the first to tell me about the Zenata, she has always been interested in Western Europe. I had to learn many languages for many of the Spec. Op. missions that I was on, the CIA told me to learn Japanese, French, Spanish, and two other languages were also required but they were of our choosing. I chose to learn Zenata, and Russian. He was speaking the language I had studied; only it was a very simplified and he used a lot of slang terms. He asked, “And who are you”? I told him my name was Jones. He then told me that his tribe called him Jonjo Sioak. I asked him how I got here and he told me that I fell from a metal bird and crashed through the ground into this cave, and I hit my head. I told him that I needed to find my friend that was somewhere in these mountains, and if he had seen any other metal birds. He said he would take me to his tribe to consult the elder and find out where my friend was...

The author's comments:
just my beginning work, there is also more to the story.

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This article has 1 comment.

earthmama said...
on Jan. 23 2010 at 9:20 am
so interesting, leaves me wanting more. Very detailed.


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