Chapter Eight | Claws of the Cat | Cliffhanger Case Files

BY CURT FERNLUND

- Claws of the Cat Credits -

Jennifer Higgins screamed, cursing at her bad luck. She pulled on her long tanned leg, tugging to free her foot from the tangle of tree roots that had ensnared her, causing her to fall. The roots were brittle and twisted, but encircling her ankle somehow, almost as though the ground had come to life and grabbed her on purpose. She started kicking at the binding wood with her free heel, desperate to escape. She heard a snarl, fierce and feral, and glanced up from her struggles.

She saw her friend, Alice Simmons - one of the extras on the movie serial, the Queen of Escapes - lying dead on the ground. The amazon extra's throat had been ripped out, and her body was covered in scratches and gashes leaking blood, as though she had been mauled to death by a wild animal. Her eyes were wide, staring blindly in horror, and her mouth was gaping in a long silent scream. With a gasp, Jennifer saw the reason why.

Hunkering over her dead friend was the star of the film, and Jennifer's employer in a round about way. Gloria Swann, star of stage and the silver screen had been clawing at the amazon's lifeless body when Jennifer had rounded a bend in the trail and come upon the grisly scene. They had all been out searching for Gloria's stunt double - Angela Morgan - who had fallen from a biplane hours before, while high over the South American jungle. It had been an almost impossible task simply to forge a trail through the dense jungle, and with night quickly falling Jennifer had suggested heading back to the plateau that was doubling as a movie set and camp ground. The others in Jennifer's party had gone on ahead with Jennifer dragging her feet at the rear, taking her time in hopes that some sign of Angela might turn up, or the suddenly missing Alice.

She had rounded a curve hiking back to camp when she had come upon the film's star and backer apparently slaughtering Alice. It was awful, and of course Jennifer had panicked. She screamed and ran, drawing Gloria Swann's full attention. The starlet had growled, like some great jungle cat and turned to stalk after the fleeing girl. Jennifer had glanced back, sweat running down her body, her heart slamming in her chest as fear grabbed hold. And then she had fallen, her ankle tangling in a mesh of tree roots that had overrun the trail and she had stumbled into.

Jennifer Higgins stared as Gloria paused. The movie star's eyes seemed slits, like a cat's, and she was wearing gloves of dark fur laced with long sharp claws. It was bizarre, and totally unexpected, and Jennifer could do nothing save struggle to free herself, watching as the woman crouched, then sprang forward. Jennifer lurched back in fright, crying out in terror and pain as with a mighty tug her foot broke free of the binding, twisted roots. She prayed that the snapping sound she had heard had been all wood and not bones as she rolled and crawled, trying to scramble away. She expected the starlet to come crashing down on her at any moment as time seemed to grind to a halt, making her a perfect target. She chanced a glance behind her-

Gloria seemed frozen in mid-leap, caught in the space between heartbeats. Her arms were outstretched, long bloody claws glistening in the dim moonlight. A vicious snarl twisted her face, a look of pure hatred that made Jennifer scream and started time ticking again full speed.

A shadow stepped between Jennifer and Gloria, and with a blurred speed the extra heard a thump and suddenly the movie star was sprawling to the ground. Jennifer stared wide-eyed, gasping for a breath that would not come, trying to understand what was happening. She saw Gloria shake her head and spring to a crouch, her face seeming to ripple in the dull moonlight. The shadowy form stepped up to meet Gloria's challenge, and Jennifer saw that it was a man carrying a broken tree limb, wielding it like a club. Jennifer recognized the denim worn by the man, the worn out cowboy boots and the graying hair even from behind.

It was Karl Braun, the stunt coordinator on the film. He had run off into the jungle alone the second that his apprentice, Angela, had fallen from the aeroplane. He had loved Angela - in a fatherly sort of way - and Jennifer assumed that seeing her fall to her death had been a crushing blow. He had charged off to find Angela alone, and had been as lost as she during the search. He had found Jennifer though, luckily and just in the nick of time. Karl swung the makeshift club with all of his might as Gloria suddenly pounced at the intruder, her new prey.

Jennifer heard a loud crack and saw the gnarled limb splinter and break as it connected with Gloria Swann's head. Blood flew from the starlet's mouth and nose as her head snapped to one side. Her body went sprawling through the air, tumbling across the ground until it slammed up against the trunk of a large tree with a crash. Gloria looked up, her eyes dazed and glassy, her face twisting between pain and anger. Then her eyes seemed to roll back up into her head and the starlet slumped back to the ground, unconscious.

Jennifer sagged, her body trembling as the terror that had gripped her started to drain away. She moaned, aching and suddenly exhausted from her ordeal. She saw Karl Braun turn and stare at her, still holding the remains of the club he had used to save her life. He was breathing hard, and sweat was running down his red blushing face. He seemed ready to collapse himself as he stepped forward, tossing his weapon to the ground.

"Are you all right, Jennifer?" he asked, kneeling beside her.

Jennifer nodded. "I think so." Jennifer's hands went to her ankle, feeling the bones to see if it was broken. Karl saw this and pushed her hands aside and pulled off her furry boot. He ran his rough hands over the hot, sweaty skin of Jennifer's foot and ankle, pushing and probing. Despite what had just happened moments before, Jennifer giggled, his fingers sending a tingle up her leg. She tried to pull away, realizing that she was too ticklish, but Karl held on a second longer with a sly grin and a look of determination. He then released her foot and stood, apparently satisfied.

"Just twisted, I think. It will be sore, but it is not broken. You were lucky."

"I'll say." Jennifer agreed as she slipped her foot back into her animal skin boot. "Lucky for me you came along when you did. Thank you! If not for you, I think Gloria would have killed me, just like poor Alice." Jennifer glanced at her dead friend, still lying on the ground and staring blindly into space. She could see the ground darkening beneath her body as her life's blood drained away, spreading out in a wide pool. Jennifer felt a lump rising in her throat as tears started to blur her vision.

Jennifer cried for her friend as Karl slowly crouched down beside Alice's cooling body. He touched at the wounds, turning Alice's lolling head from side to side and closed her eyelids. Then with a frown he stood and took off his denim jacket gently draping it over Alice's face. Head hung low he shuffled back to Jennifer's side.

"She is dead, and none too gently." Jennifer could hear the barely suppressed anger in his voice. "Gloria tore her to ribbons, almost like some animal. Or maybe that is what she wanted it to look like." Karl Braun stared back at the covered body for a moment as though trying to get a grip on some elusive thought. "I have known Gloria Swann for years, worked on many of her pictures and taught her much of what she knows. She is an arrogant snob. A bitch, some would say, but I would stake my own life that she is no murderer. This is all very strange."

"You can say that again." Jennifer sniffled, trying to sound brave. Her heartbeat was finally starting to slow back to normal, and her teeth had stopped chattering. She was drained of energy though and graciously accepted Karl's help to her feet when he offered his hand. She winced at the sudden pain in her ankle, testing it with her weight, but it appeared that Karl had been right. It was not broken, just twisted and sore. She grimaced, but stayed on her feet trying to ignore the pain.

"What do you suppose-"

Jennifer gasped, pointing to the spot where Gloria Swann should have been. The spot that was now empty-

"She's gone!"

Angela Morgan staggered, the force of the arrow that slammed into her shoulder driving her back and knocking her off of her feet. She landed hard on the dusty stone floor of the cavern, her breath rushing from her body with the impact. Pain swept down her arm, and she swiftly felt her hand and fingers growing numb and useless. Her vision swirled, and she was as good as deaf with Gloria Swann screaming like a banshee in her ear. She strained, trying to see, to stay conscious as her sight blurred, gray fuzzing about the edges. Her mind drifted back, wondering how she had come to this-

Miraculously she had survived her long plunge from the biplane stunt, crashing through the jungle canopy and down into the secreted catacombs that ran underneath the Amazonian jungle seemingly for miles. She had been weak and tired, but except for a painful limp from a sprained ankle she was alive. Alive and totally lost, wandering aimlessly through the dark, humid tunnels for hours it seemed. Quite by accident she had literally stumbled upon Gloria Swann, also apparently lost in the catacombs. She found Gloria hanging precariously by her fingernails from a crumbling ledge but managed to save the aging movie star, though not without a great deal of effort. Together then, they wandered the tunnels, looking for some way out.

Comparing notes along the way, Angela learned that Gloria had been taken captive by three women who were apparently real live Amazons that lived in the jungle where they had been filming Gloria Swann's latest epic. Somehow the leader of the trio had managed to disguise herself as Gloria and take her place on the film set with none of the cast or crew any the wiser. The real Gloria had languished for better than two days, a prisoner in the temple of the Amazons; a huge cavern deep in the labyrinth of tunnels where both women now were. It made a sort of twisted sense to Angela as she thought back, remembering how the ropes of the ladder she had been hanging onto beneath the aeroplane had broken so easily, causing her to fall. Gloria - the fake Gloria- had seemed fascinated by the aeroplane and had hovered about it, asking the pilot - Sebastian Pitt - a flurry of questions. It would have taken little effort on the Amazon's part to slit the ropes. As little effort as it had taken her and her fellows to poison the crew's water and food supplies, or damage the camp at night. It all fell easily into place as Angela thought about it, trying to stay awake. Her many accidents, the wildly shot arrows that apparently no one had fired, the mysterious dart that Kathy Parker, the crew's nurse had plucked from her skin.

The Amazons were apparently trying to drive the cast and crew away and out of their jungle. For some reason they were trying to make the company seem jinxed, that all of their misfortunes had been just a run of incredibly bad luck. Little by little however, their attempts had gotten more intensive and personal. The Amazons were trying to kill them now, a fact that seemed readily apparent as Angela focused on the two warrior women that had been following them through the catacombs.

Angela glanced blearily at Gloria who was still on her butt beside her on the dirty cavern floor. Gloria Swann was screeching to high heaven, her voice loud and grating but actually keeping Angela awake. The movie star had been through hell, so Angela could not really fault her for going to pieces, but screaming madly was hardly going to help either of them.

Angela turned her attention from the starlet to the Amazons. The warrior women were tall, and even in the dimly lit cavern she could see that they were exotically beautiful. They were wearing scraps of leather and animal skin much like most of the extras in the film, but somehow it looked proper hanging from their statuesque bodies. Both had dark skin, and darker hair, and lean, muscular bodies. Angela watched, almost hypnotized by their graceful, catlike movements as the one with the bow - the one that had already shot an arrow into her shoulder - knocked another arrow and drew back on the string, taking aim. Angela blinked as the arrow was loosed-

Blinked as the other Amazon swiftly spun her spear and knocked the shaft aside in midair. The arrow spiraled off into the darkness and Angela heard it shatter, hitting the rock wall of the cavern. She breathed a sigh of relief as she focused on the two women fading in and out of her sight. They were arguing she could see more than hear, the never-ending wails of Gloria Swann drowning out everything else. Angela took advantage of the distraction and raised her hand up to the shaft sticking out of her shoulder.

The pain was like a fire raging beneath her skin at her slightest touch. She moaned, trying her best to grip the long wooden shaft, but the pain was too much and her vision swam. She slumped to the ground, dizzy and weak, her senses reeling. She could hear Gloria screaming, then suddenly she could not. Gloria Swann's wailing seemed to choke off, suddenly dying in her throat. Angela tried to open her eyes, to look up to see what had happened.

Angela opened her eyes and saw the booted feet of one of the Amazons standing right before her. She glanced up the forever-long legs, past the rounded hips and ample bosom, but the woman's face was lost in the shadows. Angela tried to rise, but the warrior woman placed a foot on Angela's arm, pinning her easily to the ground. Her feeble attempts to rise were ignored as Angela felt the woman grab the arrow protruding from her shoulder and give it a sharp twist. Even over her own tortured sobs Angela could hear her tormentor chuckling. Then fire seemed to blaze through her shoulder and Angela screamed to high heaven, wishing it to stop. A heartbeat later her vision darkened, glaring red then turning to utter black...

Jonathan Harkins chewed on the bit of his cigar, staring at the pages of the script for the Queen of Escapes spread out across the table before him. He was desperately reading through the script, going over every line, every scene, trying to salvage what was left of the film and see what he might do with most of his major players missing, maybe dead.

He cursed Gloria Swann under his breath. She had only one real shot remaining, the close-up kiss with Adam Kaine. That of course could be filmed anywhere, even back in Hollywood, on a sound stage, but he did need Gloria. It was a close-up after all, and her fans would notice if he changed stars. That would have to wait.

He could work around the missing extras. Higgins and Simmons were good, but not essential. With the six remaining amazons, Harkins had more than enough bodies for the final scene where the women came rushing out of the jungle yelling and brandishing weapons as Kaine and Swann flew off into the sunset. He would have Pitt fly the aeroplane of course, and from a distance anyone could take Gloria's place in the biplane. He could shoot around the two missing extras with no trouble. True, Higgins had a great set of pins, and Simmons had a rack that would not quit, but Harkins knew that pretty faces were a dime a dozen back in Tinsel Town. If push came to shove, they would not be missed.

Karl Braun however was another story. Granted, the stunts were over for the most part. There was a simple shot of a woman hoisting herself into the seat of the biplane, but he could fudge that, again shooting from a distance. The Morgan girl was a real trooper, and she would be missed, not only for her skill at stunt work, but because she was a dead ringer for Gloria Swann. Harkins smirked at his little joke - 'dead' ringer - then shuffled through the papers again. He would miss Braun the most.

Karl Braun was the best stunt coordinator in the business, bar none, and Harkins knew it. They had worked together on several films; Shiloh Sundown, Zombie Invaders from Mars, and even on the Green Plague, Gloria Swann's first attempt at real acting. Braun had won an award for that one, and Harkins had been nominated for an Oscar, despite the fact that the film had died in the box office. Karl Braun would be missed, but Jonathan Harkins figured that such was fate. It could not be helped, and life went on. It had too!

"Jonathan..."

Harkins shuffled his papers and notes together at the sound of the voice at his tent flap. He stuffed the script into a leather folder and set it aside before assuming a depressed position in his chair; frowning, head hung low and arms folded over his chest-

"Come in."

John Thomas folded the tent flap aside and stepped inside the confines of Harkin's tent. The assistant director on the film was drenched, and Harkins actually heard for the first time the claps of thunder shaking the camp, lightning lighting up the landscape. Rain was falling, another torrential downpour that seemed so frequent in the rain forest. Harkins watched as Thomas shook himself, spattering water about the confined space of the tent before removing his green mack and hat and taking a seat.

"Jonathan..."

"John. What's up?"

Harkins watched as John Thomas slowly pulled a slim, silver cigarette case from his pocket and took out a butt. He tapped the cigarette on his knee, then struck a wooden match on the side of his boot, lighting the butt then returning the case. Thomas was probably at least ten years Harkins junior, yet the two men were similar in many ways. They had the same height and build. Harkins hair was a bit thinner, but they both wore it slicked back and short. Still, the toll of years was more readily apparent on Harkin's lined face. Thomas had yet to direct his own film, though that did not seem to bother him, at least as far as Harkins could tell. He settled back as his assistant sighed, taking a long drag off of his cigarette.

"The crew wants to know what we're going to do tomorrow. They're worried, what with all the missing people."

"And with good reason. I'm worried too, I assure you. More than you might imagine. Tell them that we'll keep searching, but we have to get the last shots."

"I don't think they really want to film anymore, Jonathan. Everyone's worried now, and I can't say as I blame them. There's too many bizarre happenings going on lately. I think maybe we better wrap and head back home. Call the authorities-"

"You think!" Harkins sat bolt upright in his chair, his teeth almost biting through his cigar. "You think!" he said again, jumping to his feet. "I don't recall paying you to think, John. I pay you to do what I tell you. Period!"

Thomas sighed. He had heard it all before. "I know Jonathan. But the cast is getting antsy. They're scared. I'm scared. At the very least we should send someone back to the base camp and let them know what's happening. They can use the short wave to radio the authorities and-"

"And what?" Harkins snapped, turning on his assistant. "It would take them days to get here, and then what would they do then? Close us down, that's what! You've never dealt with the Federalies John, but I have. They're a nasty little bunch that does not give a whit about any gringos beyond the color of our money. All's they will do is shut us down and kick us out. Say 'bye-bye' to Gloria, Jennifer, Alice, Karl and Angela, because you will not be seeing them again. South America is the piss hole of the world, John, and the only reason that we're still here is because Gloria greased a lot of palms on our way down. We call in the 'authorities' and it's all over; no film, no rescue, and no paycheck."

"I don't care about the money." Thomas said, sagging as he listened to the director, realizing that he was probably correct. "A lot of us don't. We just want to find Gloria and the rest and get out of here."

Harkins smirked, flopping back into his chair. He knew the man was sincere, and that most of the cast and crew felt the same way. They did not know, however. They had not had to deal with Hollywood and life in general as he had over the years. Most of them had never worked with the likes of Gloria Swann, or the league of lawyers that controlled her assets. They did not have to deal with the company big wigs as he had to. It was all too easy to stick their collective tail between their legs and crawl home. Harkins would be damned before he did that. He was not about to give up.

"Tell you what, John." He smiled, puffing on his cigar, watching his assistant intently. "I'll send the editors back; Walters and his crew, and a couple of hands to guard them in case they're nervous. They can take the wraps with them, everything we've shot so far up here. They can call your authorities on the radio when they get back to base camp. It'll take them a day or so to get back, and a couple days beyond that for the Federalies to get out here. More than enough time for us to wrap up the last of the shooting and to keep searching besides. Hell, for all we know Gloria and the others could come walking back into camp any moment. Then all of your worries are for nothing."

"Better safe than sorry, Jonathan." Thomas said, standing and donning his rain gear. It was still storming outside.

"That's right. Better safe than sorry." Harkins stood as well, holding the tent flap for his assistant to depart. "I want the Amazons in costume as soon as the rain lets up after sunrise. And tell Pitt to get his butt in the air too. We have one more flying shot, and we're going to get it as soon as we can. Got it?"

Thomas sighed, shrugging into his rubber mack. "Got it Jonathan. I'll spread the word." John Thomas tried to smile, but just could not do it. He shrugged finally, then ducked out of the tent and back into the storm.

Harkins let the flap of his tent fall, Thomas and his problems already forgotten. In his mind's eye he saw the biplane silhouetted against a huge, orange setting sun. On the ground a group of scantily clad women were yelling and shouting at the aeroplane, some of them firing arrows in its wake. The plane would arch out and away, leaving only the setting sun that would eventually fade to black. Then the credits would roll.

Gleefully Harkins opened the folder and thumbed through the pages of the script, making corrections. Damn Gloria Swann, and damn all the rest. He would finish the Queen of Escapes if he had to put on a dress and do it all himself... Jennifer Higgins had to jog to keep pace with Karl Braun. He was so intent on finding Angela that he had stalked off into the jungle again. Despite Jennifer's pleas he would not slow down, pushing his way through the brush.

Jennifer limped along in his wake as best as she was able. Her ankle was throbbing, and it was hard to see so she stumbled along trying to keep the man's back in sight, hoping that she would not fall and hurt herself even more. She could hear the sounds of the animals again, off in the jungle even over the sounds that she made as she thrashed along. She also remembered that 'Gloria' was out there somewhere. Her eyes darted about nervously as she stumbled along, seeing danger in the shifting shadows wherever she looked.

She had been shocked to find that the woman who had been posing as Gloria Swann had vanished. How she had gotten up and away after crashing up against the tree Jennifer did not have a clue. She knew that if she had been hit so hard she would have been crippled for life, if not worse. The woman however had slipped away, apparently dazed only for a short time and unhurt.

Karl had seemed unconcerned, and after a quick check of the area, he left, giving Jennifer no choice but to follow along or find her way back to the plateau on her own, in the dark. It had taken Jennifer only a moment to make her decision, and soon she was trailing after the stunt coordinator, trying to keep up.

"Karl..." she whined, "Please slow down!"

Jennifer staggered and fell as the trail suddenly sloped down, taking her by surprise. Instinctively she thrust her hands out before her to break her fall, crying out as her palms scraped along the dirt and gravel trail. She banged her knee on a rock, sending a jolt of pain up her leg, then sprawled into a muddy patch at the bottom of the slope. She started to cry.

Jennifer was miserable. She had been hot and sweaty for so long, and then it had started pouring down rain and she had been soaked to the bone. The rain had been warm and not cleansing at all, and it did little to cool off the humid jungle. If anything the rain made it worse, causing the ground to steam and get soggy and sloppy to walk on. Her animal skin costume had started to smell, and continued to grow worse. The ground had become slippery and even muddy in spots and too many times Jennifer had put extra stress on her already sore ankle just trying to maintain her balance. Now she had fallen, splayed face first into a stinking bog of mud. She was covered and filthy, spitting grit from her mouth as she tried to catch her breath. She was tired and sore, and wanted nothing more than to just lay there and rest in the filthy swill.

"Are you all right?"

Jennifer gasped to suddenly hear Karl's rough voice above her. She let out a little yelp of fright, feeling a fool as she looked up to see his shadowy form right before her, leaning down and offering a hand.

"I fell..." she snuffled, feeling stupid as she took his hand. She fought to hold back her tears as Karl easily lifted her to her feet then scooped her up into his arms to carry her out of the bog. She heard his breathing deepen only a little as she draped an arm about his neck to hold on. She wondered where he got the energy to keep going.

After a few steps, Karl gently set Jennifer down at the side of the trail he had blazed, leaning her against a fallen tree. Jennifer sat gratefully, sighing with relief at the chance to rest. After a few deep breaths she started to use her fingers to scrape the mud from her skin and clothes. She was reeking, the odor almost enough to make her retch, and she wondered if she might have fallen into an animal's nest.

Jennifer heard a familiar sound as she was grooming herself and looked up in time to see Karl flick a smoldering match into the mud, puffing a cigarette to life. He was waiting for her - she was happy to see - and taking a break himself. Jennifer licked her lips, watching as the cigarette flared while she scraped the mud from her legs, wincing to find a bruise on her knee. She could not see, but she hoped it was not bleeding and worse, getting infected. Jennifer jumped to find the butt of the cigarette before her.

She glanced up, but Karl's face was blank, and he seemed a million miles away. Jennifer leaned forward, taking the cigarette between her lips and took a long drag while Karl held it steady for her. It was soothing, and Jennifer immediately felt a light-headed rush that relaxed her. She closed her eyes and sighed; blowing out a long cloud of blue-gray smoke that drifted up and away. She had quit smoking, or tried to, but at times, there was nothing better.

"I'm sorry-"

Jennifer opened her eyes and glanced up at Karl once again. He was looking at her with some concern, his eyes misty and suddenly old. He made Jennifer think of her father long dead, and a lump swelled in her throat and chest.

"I should have been watching out for you," he said quietly. "I did not think."

"Karl," she said, surprised as her voice wavered and cracked. "You were worried about Angela. So am I. I understand." A grin curled his lips, then quickly vanished.

"Still..." He offered her another drag from the cigarette then cast the spent butt into the muddy bog. He offered her a hand up once again. "Come. I'll take you back to the camp. We will search for Angela along the way, but you should rest. You are hurting."

Jennifer shook her head to deny that, but as she stood pain shot through her ankle again and she was forced to hop forward with Karl's support. She tried to force a smile, started to apologize-

Jennifer felt the ground sink, giving way under her weight. She gasped as she started to fall back, clutching at Karl's arm as the earth suddenly opened under her feet. She saw his eyes grow wide as he clamped onto her arm to hold her, then started to tumble forward as well, caught in the grip of whatever was dragging her down. "Quicksand!" she yelled, but realized that she was wrong as she kept falling. The ground crumbled, raining down with her. Emptiness opened up beneath her feet. As the darkness welled up to surround her, Jennifer screamed...

Gloria Swann was in Heaven. She had to be. She had been so tired. She had been aching so badly that she thought she might die. And apparently she had, as now she was at peace. She floated blissfully, her world a soft, comfortable gray that kept her warm and secure. She felt as though she were sleeping, back home in her mansion's bed in Beverly Hills. Soon her maid would slip into her bedroom and draw the curtains, gently waking her for another day. Soon, but for now she was at peace.

Except for the voices.

The voices were rough and loud, chattering incessantly, breaking in on her peace and comfort. She tried to turn away, to bury her head in her pillow, but no matter which way she turned, the voices would not cease. Worse, they were giving her a headache. Gloria moaned in irritation and anger. Whoever was responsible, they would be fired as soon as she woke up.

As soon as she woke up...

Gloria Swann woke with a start, her body jerking in pain as a million muscles seemed to convulse at once. She cried out, but her protests were cut off by something stuffed into her mouth that stifled her noise and breathing as well. Her eyes flew wide, wondering what was happening. Wondering where she was.

Then she remembered...

Gloria Swann was on the ground, shivering despite the heat and humidity. She was all but naked, dressed only in her brassiere and slip, both of which were filthy, stained with sweat and dirt, and even blood. Her hair was a mess, greasy and matted and falling in her eyes, obscuring her vision. Still, she knew immediately where she was.

It was a huge cavern, lit just a bit more brightly than she last recalled. Still she could not see into its farthest shadowy corners, it was so vast. It was a temple she thought, her sleepy gaze scanning her surroundings once more. The temple of the Amazons who had captured her days before, and apparently had again. She saw the old stone altar stained with dried blood off to her right. She saw the massive statue of the cat man, shining darkly in the torchlight with its jewel green eyes. She saw the crates and chests of golden trinkets, the weapons littering the ground and the decaying tapestry lining one of the rocky walls. She saw the twin carved totem poles and more, and her eyes grew wide in shock-

Angela Morgan stood limply at one of the poles. Her arms were thrust above her head, but the rest of her body seemed to sag, as though about to fall. Her head hung low, lolling forward, her hair hanging in front of her face. Her legs were bent at the knees and Gloria could see that they were not supporting her weight. Gloria stared, straining her eyes in the dim light to understand, and finally saw. Angela's wrists were tightly locked in thick, rusting shackles; manacles that were attached to twin chains that ran to the top of the totem pole where they were no doubt anchored deeply into the wood. Gloria could see a bit of cloth about the girl's face, pinning her hair in the back where it was knotted, gagging her as well. There was a crude bandage wrapped about her arm as well, but even in the thick, smoky light of the cavern Gloria could see that it was filthy and stained dark with blood. Thankfully, the girl was still unconscious.

Gloria blinked, trying to wish the nightmarish scene away, but every time she slowly opened her eyes again, nothing had changed. Gloria tried to rise, to get up and run away from the amazon Hall of Horrors, but quickly found that she was just as helpless as her understudy was. Her arms were drawn behind her and, she felt with a quick twisting of her wrists, bound with a thick, rough rope. She tried to squirm about, laying on her stomach, and found her ankles bound as well. The ropes, coupled with the gag stuffed in her mouth left her helpless and silent, much to her captor's pleasure she was sure.

She saw them across the cavern, sitting in the small area of gathered rocks where they had spent most of their time before when Gloria was their prisoner the first time. They were still dressed in animal skin leathers that barely held their statuesque bodies in check. Their hair was still wild and in disarray, and they looked grimy beyond the dark tones of their skin. Still, Gloria was jealous. They were gorgeous. They were talking and at once Gloria knew that they were the source of the voices that she had heard in her sleep. It was some language that sounded almost Spanish, though Gloria could make out no words that she understood. Still, she knew that they must have been talking about her.

Gloria squirmed on the dirty floor, writhing against the ropes that held her bound. She was so out of shape, so out of practice that the effort drained her quickly. It had taken her forever to escape the last time, and it had hurt in the end, chaffing her wrists and straining her muscles. She was in little better shape, mere hours later, but she felt that the ropes were not quite as tight and thoroughly knotted this time. She felt the slightest glimmer of hope as she struggled, remembering briefly that once upon a time she was one of the greatest Female Escapologists living. She was - is - the Queen of Escapes!

A sudden shouting from the Amazons drew Gloria's attention. She craned her neck, worming back around to see what all the noise was about and quailed. A third person had joined the two Amazons, and Gloria instantly recognized the perfect, muscular body in the khaki clothes even as just a silhouette across the cave. It was their leader - the Amazon Queen!

It was the woman that had stolen Gloria's face. Gloria remembered in horror the glowing golden masques that the woman had used, wearing one and pressing another to Gloria's face. They were cat shaped, and the one burned at the touch. Gloria had been flooded with a wave of images as she donned the golden mask, memories it almost seemed, that were not her own. Gloria had fallen into a daze, but with the last of her strength she had looked up and saw her own face staring back at her. Laughing at her!

The woman, according to Angela, had invaded the set, acting as Gloria to subtly attack and sabotage the film, and probably was the reason for all of their misfortunes throughout their stay. The Amazon women wanted the film crew gone, out of their jungle for some reason, though Gloria could not fathom the reason why. And, she supposed it did not truly matter.

Gloria watched as the three women argued, the queen waving her arms about and screaming. A moment later one of the others grabbed up her spear and dashed into one of the shadowy tunnels that pitted the slick rocky walls. The queen then seemed to see Gloria for the first time. She felt the Amazon's sudden, seething rage even from across the cavern and watched as the woman began stalking towards her. Something flashed, glinting in the light streaming down from the wide hole in the roof as she strode through the glowing circle. It was a knife!

Gloria Swann squirmed, tugging frantically at her bonds, trying to get away. She started grunting into her gag, trying to wake Angela for help, but the girl remained oblivious to their danger. The queen was almost upon them, coming closer with every long stride. Gloria saw the evil in her eyes, the anger twisting the once beautiful face..

And all at once she knew. Caught in the glow of a torch and the light overhead, Gloria saw the twisted, melted flesh once so tight and smooth. Something had happened with the mask. Call it magic, or sorcery, whatever it was, it had gone wrong. The Amazon Queen's face was like a half spent candle dripping away, bleached of color with two black dots where her eyes should have been, a slit that was all that remained of her mouth submerged beneath the baggy flesh. There was a deep dent in the side of her head, as though something had struck her there. Gloria looked on in disgust, revulsion making her turn away but fascination holding her, making her stare. It was hideous, made all the worse when the woman snarled, her voice a bone chilling howl.

The woman stopped before her, and Gloria saw the Amazon Queen raise the knife she held high overhead. The woman was going to kill her-

Gloria screamed...

Is Gloria's life forfeit? Will Angela escape? And what about poor Jennifer? Read the next thrilling episode to find out...

Read the next thrilling episode to find out! Coming Soon to a web page near you...

Claws of the Cat © Curt Fernlund 2002 - 2007. Original Logo, running cat and claw marks by Word Mill Optical (Used with Permission).

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