Toucan carnivorous

July 13 2022; people 119

6/19/20

Twenty-one-year-old, Cyril Viatt gripped his machete as he waited in the shadows, his spine closely pressed against the base of the large tree, his heart full of foreboding. He was being stalked, but he was not unprepared. The animals were silent, and the tranquility was salient. This apparent peace was belied by the fear that crawled up Cyril’s nape and stood his hair on end. The massive trees of the Indonesian rain forest swayed in the wind, creaking. The canopy of leaves filtered out all the light from the full moon above.

A fluttering of wings just above Cyril’s head startled him. He whirled around and jumped back, the machete swinging wildly. Something let out a screech. Cyril brandished the machete at the thrashing midnight patch amongst the dark grey of the night. He backpedaled a few steps, still watching the dark spot by the tree.

“Back, foul beast! Or whatever you are.” Cyril’s orotund voice reinvigorated the flailing of the creature. I should have brought a flashlight, he thought. The creature stepped toward Cyril. Yelling wildly, he drove it back against the tree. Attempting to reassure himself, he boldly asked; “What part has thou with man? Or what portion has thou with mankind?” Old English, really? He rolled his eyes. Still, it adds a nice ring to it.

But out of the darkness, out of the shadows, came a voice like the grating of a rock against another rock; it was menacing, brooding, evil. All the time it spoke, Cyril kept stepping further and further back.

“I must admit, I find your vernacular pleasing, far more so then that which is common of your kind. The usual is so disturbing, while yours reminds me of a few adventurous soldiers from the Crusades who were looking for the eastern end of the world. My, but they found it… in our stomachs!” It burst into a fit of hideous laughter from the humor that Cyril did not find at all amusing. “By the way, my name is Leisk.” The mirth leaked out of its voice. “But, to answer your questions, I AM HUNGRY! That is my part with man and my portion with mankind! My family will feast tonight!” The creature let out screech, rose into the air, and then faded into the night.

At this, Cyril spun, quickly sheathed his machete, and sprinted through a nearby clearing, giving his all. Floating above him, was a pitch-black emblem of a bird like creature, pitted against the moonlight, causing a dark shadow on the ground beside him.

“I do love it when they go down fighting, but this will never work. You might as well give up now.” The hideous voice of Leisk called down from above.

“How’s this?” Cyril darted left, out of the clearing and into the brambles hanging from the trees, creating a spiked barrier above his head. He slid beneath the thorny brush and continued at the same all or nothing speed.

“Very obliging of you. Yes, it will work quite nicely.” On and on, Cyril ran, tripping over unseen low-lying brambles, his legs aching, his lungs gasping for each breath. After a long silence, Leisk again called out from above.

“Growing tired, perhaps? I must go to my family, but I will return, and when I come, the hunt shall begin.” The creature flapped off. Cyril stopped, cocked his head, and listened. The nightly noises slowly returned, and Cyril, after resting for a moment, altered his direction 90 degrees to the left and once again ran.

Ten minutes later, Cyril was again hot, bloody, and breathless. He stopped and shook his head. This is hopeless, he thought, looking around in utter despair. But what he saw caused his heart to surge within him. A light! He thought and then he repeated it aloud. “A light!” His voice was filled with great gratitude and real relief.

And not only a light did Cyril could see, but also a strange squat hut. I wonder who owns it, he pondered. Then he shook his head. I’ll find out when I get there. He started to walk toward the shelter.

“NAAASSCHEEEEECKKK!” Cyril looked up to see Leisk diving down at him, letting out a wild screech. Cyril leapt to the side and a moment later, Leisk landed beside him in a heap. Cyril, with his bloodstream coursing with adrenaline, sped toward the hut. Halfway there. He chanced a glance behind him and saw Leisk rise into the air. Two thirds of the way.

“OPEN THE DOOR!” Cyril screamed as he pumped his legs even faster. Three fourths. He craned his neck again, but this time he could not see the creature. Not good. The door was still closed. “OPEN IT!” He was seven feet away.

Finally, the door cracked open and someone peered out. Cyril didn’t care and barreled into the door, sending the person behind it flying. Cyril stopped, slammed the door, and pushed with all his weight, just as Leisk dove at him again. There was a THWUMP on the door. Cyril rested against the door, breathing deeply.

“The door has a lock, you know.” The man who had been slammed had picked himself up, swept his long white hair back from his unusual gray eyes, and now was looking at Cyril intensely.

“What? Oh, yes. Thank you.” Cyril spun the handle on the deadbolt and slumped to the floor. He wiped his forehead. Cyril looked around the room. It was filled with trinkets resting upon shelves.

“I see that Leisk was chasing you. Nearly caught you too.” The man bent to pick up a sock that had fallen to the ground.

“Yeah.” Cyril nodded. “You know him?”

The old man sighed and fingered a deep scar that ran down his face. “I’d say so. He is the reason I’m here… and he is the reason I’m the way I am.”

“What… is that supposed to mean?”

“All in good time, my boy. All in good time. But, as we may be here a while, let’s get to know each other. What is your name, and how old are you?”

“My name is Cyril Viatt and I’m twenty-one. And if I may be so bold as to-”

“You may.” The man broke in, eyes twinkling.

“Um, okay. What is your name, and how old are you?”

“My name is Durward Fersh and I am a sexagenarian.” Cyril raised his eyebrows. “If you don’t know what that means, look it up in the dictionary over there.” The man nodded toward a large dictionary sitting on the shelf.

“I’m afraid I already know. A sexagenarian is someone between sixty and seventy.” Cyril nearly laughed aloud at the look of surprise on Durward’s face.

“Well, maybe you will be able help me with my experiment. But before that, I’ll show you about and run some preliminary tests on you.” Durward helped Cyril up and led him to a separate room full of scientific equipment. “I must prepare the EM generator. Meanwhile, make yourself at home. Only, be careful.”

“Of course.” Durward walked over to a large machine while Cyril watched the spinning of a small solar system run by clockwork. “An orrery.” He muttered. A low humming began, and Cyril spun around to see Durward walking away from the machine and eating something. “Are you eating a marzipan?”

“Um, yes. Want some?”

“I’m fine.” Cyril wrinkled his nose.

“Okay. Let’s get down to business. Have you been injected with any taraxein recently?”

“If you mean the abnormal protein found schizophrenic persons that if is injected into an average person causes like symptoms of schizophrenia, I don’t think so.”

“Excellent. Do you know the particulars of Toucan carnivorous?”

“Um, no. What exactly is a Toucan carnivorous?”

Durward sighed. “Okay. Leisk is one. Now, there is a fact about the Toucan carnivorous that you must remember; if you do not kill it all at once, the cells will revive. They are nearly impossible kill.”

“Really?”

“Trust me, I know. Now come here.” Durward led Cyril over to the humming machine.

“What does it do?”

“It creates an electric magnetic beam that instantly fries anything in front of it. I designed it to destroy Leisk once and for all. Its central unit of power is the orthicon.”

“A television tube?”

“Yes. Now, help me wheel it outside.” Durward and Cyril carried it outside through the front door. “Leisk will return tonight. He always does. We just need to wait. Hold my pistol while I prep the machine.” Durward handed the gun over. Cyril held his unsheathed machete in his left hand and the gun in his right. He craned his neck, watching for the creature. Suddenly, behind Durward, Cyril saw Leisk diving at Durward.

“Look out!” Cyril screamed at Durward who ducked. Cyril fired the gun and watched as the bullet arced toward the creature’s head. Leisk screeched in pain as the shot pierced his head. He landed in a lifeless jumble. Cyril ran over to Durward. Durward’s eyes grew wide.

“Behind you!” Cyril spun around to see Leisk was leaping at him, talons ready to strike.

To Be Continued