DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. If you are offended by sexually explicit material or are under the age of 18, stop reading now. This material cannot be reproduced for commercial purposes without the consent of the author. John Carter By Lazlo Zalezak Copyright (C) Lazlo Zalezak, 2003 Part 1: Shield, Staff, and Compass Chapter 1 … to cross that dark chasm that exists in heart and soul. There must be a greater meaning to your life than you have found thus far. So screamed an angry wind that held his heart in a frigid grasp. All he knows is what all men know. The fear of a little boy as he faces a larger one in a playground fight; more afraid of being called a coward than he is of getting hurt or losing. There is the pride and accomplishment that comes from building something new. There is the rush of power and that little thrill that comes with tearing down something old and rotten. There is the confusion that arises as a result of being asked what he feels by a woman he loves and the knowledge that his inability to answer arises from not knowing rather than an unwillingness to share. There are even simple things of life that define him, like the relief that spreads forth from his bladder when he relieves himself first thing in the morning. He knows that the urge to procreate exists in every part of his mind and body; it colors his whole view of the world. He remembers that thrill felt as a young man when he actually got his first feel of a woman's breast even though a bra covered it. There is the remembrance of the embarrassment felt as a teenager when he would get erect in class for no reason at all; the dread that everyone would know of his excited state and laugh at him. There is that sense of rightness in how his hand fits around his cock as he strokes his erection while fantasizing. There is the accompanying unease at the chance of being caught masturbating that drives him to finish as quickly as possible and abort the full potential for pleasure that the act promises. There is that catch in the throat when he looks down at a woman sucking his cock and sees that she is looking up at him with a smile in her eyes. There is that indescribable pleasure of entering a woman in that most intense act between man and woman. He fears the devastation that would come from having a woman laugh at the size of his cock or ridicule his performance as a man. He wants to deny that day when he finally becomes too old or ill to get an erection and thus prays that day will never come. He knelt beside the fire pit, a stone pressing into his right knee, irritating, but insufficient to force him to change his position. Ignoring his discomfort, he poked through the ashes looking for the dull red of a last remaining ember. In the pre-dawn light, even the faintest glow would stand out. Finding one, he worked it to the center of the pit with a small stick. He placed a small piece of dried moss upon the ember and blew gently. His breath coaxed the ember to glow a little brighter and the grayish-green moss began to smoke. Then, with the suddenness that always surprised him, it burst into a fragile flame with a weak wisp of smoke rising from it that was easily lost in the gray light. With the care that comes from long experience, he laid sticks across the wavering flame and blew gently as he resurrected the fire that had burned through the night. He rocked back until he rested buttocks on heals and gazed with simple pleasure at the result of his labor. He watched the steadily growing flame until he was satisfied that the fire needed no further care for the moment. Looking up, he watched day break over the eastern horizon; performing what had become a religious ritual. The unseen sun was lighting up the sky, painting it blue against the gray background that slowly spread upwards. He smiled at the lack of red on the horizon that according to sailor wisdom meant there would be no rain that day. A cold wind that lasted no more than three seconds disturbed the quiet air, bringing a chill that spread across his whole body. Every morning that wind blew through and he felt this indicated a magic moment. By the time the chills subsided, the sun broke the horizon signaling the beginning of a new day. Muscles stiff from holding the same position too long; he rose with great difficulty and examined the camp. From the leather case on his belt, he removed his compass and turning north strode fifty paces into the woods; chased by the barking of squirrels disturbed by this strange presence. He looked up and spied his orange backpack hanging from a rope thrown over a branch of a stately oak. The bright yellow of the ski tow line stood out in sharp contrast to the bluish gray background of the sky and the green leaves of the oaks. He followed the rope to where it was tied on a separate tree and pulled on the free end of the rope thereby releasing the knot. Lowering the backpack, he watched the swaying of the branch over which the rope hung. He marveled at the nature of the forces that translated his angular release into a gradual lessening of the forces sustaining the pack against the force of gravity. When the pack finally reached the ground he went to it and retrieved the rope. He coiled the rope and replaced it in its normal position. Hefting it, at least ten pounds lighter now then two weeks ago, he deftly swung it around while slipping his arms into the straps. Having performed the act several times a day for the past month, it settled into place very naturally. As he walked back to camp, he took a little more time to watch the antics of the squirrels. Bushy tails flattened behind, ears laid back, and a ferocious look pasted across their faces they barked their displeasure at him. These truly wild animals had not seen a human in at least ten of their generations. Unlike their tamer brethren that lived in and around cities, these squirrels would not eat any bread that he might leave out for them. Reaching his camp, he set down his backpack down next to his bedroll and carefully opened it. There on the top was his metal cup and the container of coffee. He filled the cup with water from his canteen, added two spoons of the extremely finely ground coffee, and two packets of sugar. He preferred the packets of sugar as it simplified measurement, storage, and left waste that was easily burned in the fire. After burning the paper from the packets, he threw several handfuls of dirt upon a portion of the fire. He set the cup upon the dirt. The dirt would heat up and form a natural medium heat that would brew a very strong Greek coffee in about 20 minutes. Seating himself on his bedroll and next to the backpack, he removed his well-worn leather-bound journal. Once it had that fresh leather smell; now it smelled of wood smoke, leaves, and sweat. He opened it to the first black pages and removed the pen from the penholder built into the spine of the book. Checking his watch, he wrote: June 21 6:45 AM I stayed up late last night watching the stars. The night was very clear and the stars presented themselves in all their glory. I never fail to have that sense of wonder that I imagine primitive man had when he first stared up at the night sky and realized that the stars were more than just décor but were something magical. The moon was full and so bright that you could have read a newspaper. Amazing what you see when you leave the lights of the city. Just before falling asleep, I saw a most amazing sight. Three meteors simultaneously raced across the sky perfectly in parallel with each other. They were well spaced so that I could easily tell which one was closest to me. The one closest to me was the smallest, the middle one was about twice the size of the small one, and the furthest was huge. There had been no meteors before that or afterwards. He took a moment to read what he had written and, satisfied that his entry had captured all of the events of the previous night, slipped the pen back into the holder along the spine. Removing the map from the back of his journal, he opened it and examined it for a couple of minutes. Reaching into the backpack, he removed the GPS and read off his location. He checked that against the point that he had marked the night before and nodded when the two locations matched. Folding the map, he replaced it in the journal and returned the journal and the GPS to the backpack. He glanced over at the coffee and saw that it wasn't ready yet; it never was by this time. He stood up and lifted up his bedroll. Holding along the long side, he shook it with a great snap to remove any bugs, leaves, or other debris that might be stuck to it. It took only a half a minute to fold it into thirds and then roll it into a tight bundle. He tied it with four strings that he retrieved from his backpack. Setting it down next to the backpack, he squatted and removed two small packages from it. The packages contained a small piece of sausage and the hard cheese. It wasn't much, but it was more than sufficient for a cold breakfast. He checked the coffee again and found that it was ready and very hot. Using his shirttail, he lifted it by the handle from the mound of dirt and set it aside to cool. Rich foam topped half of the cup. The aroma of the coffee filled his nostrils and brought back memories of the Greek woman who had taught him to make coffee in this fashion. He remembered the time she had made a cup of coffee with a distribution of foam almost identical to what was on the cup he was now examining. She told him that a major change in life was indicated. That same day an event happened that completely changed his life. Even now, the memory of that day brought a shudder to him. Since then, he never touched alcohol or drugs; he turned from drop out to determined student. Breaking away from his reflections, he took a bite of the sausage. His stomach twisted in response to the strong flavor of garlic so early in the day. He grimaced, but continued to eat. Alternating between bites of sausage and cheese, he slowly consumed his breakfast. Occasionally, he would take the time to sip his coffee enjoying the strong flavor and rush of caffeine. It wasn't long before he had nothing less than half a bite of sausage and cheese. He set them aside saying, "For the Gods and Goddesses." With a quick flick of his wrist, he emptied the contents of his coffee cup onto the remains of his fire. The sudden onslaught of wet coffee grounds threw up a cloud of steam laced with the heavy scent from coffee smoking amongst a few remaining coals. He added a small amount of water to the cup swirled it with a deft flick of the wrist and tossed the water onto the fire again. The last coals died with a protesting hiss. His cup was free of coffee grounds. He added more water to the cup and dunked his toothbrush into it. After a minute of vigorous brushing, he spat out the white foam into the fire pit. A quick sip from the cup and a general swishing of the water through his mouth was followed by another splash of water hitting the fire pit. The fire pit was now a mess of sodden ashes and half-burnt sticks. He drank down the mouthful of water that remained in the cup. It only took another five minutes of work and all of his possessions were packed into the backpack or tucked into his pockets. With a patient scan over his campsite, he assured himself that there was little or no trace of his stay. A small mound of dirt where his fire pit had been and a small piece of cheese and sausage were all that remained. The flattened grass where he had slept would stand again in a day or two. He took considerable pleasure in performing the strict routine of his morning tasks. It was after three hours of leisurely hiking that a chill ran up his spine He froze in place as he struggled to come to grips with the unnatural feel of his surroundings. Everything was too quiet. There was no wind and no birdcalls. He listened carefully trying to identify the source of his uneasiness, yet nothing reached his ears. As he looked around, it seemed as though the colors were too bright. The greens of the leaves, the browns and grays of the trunks and branches of the trees, and the blue of the sky screamed at him. There was a profusion of colors. The light hurt his eyes with their intensity. The sound of a branch moving struck him like a whip. His head swiveled to see what had caused the noise. He stared in shock as a naked woman stepped from the forest. A current of electricity raced through him. His cock went from placid to erect instantly and painfully. Time came to stop as she stood at an angle to him while allowing him to take in her beauty. She was the perfect woman incarnate. Her stance was one of complete ease and confidence. Her right leg supported her weight. The left leg was angled to the side; the toes just touching the ground. Her left hand rested upon her hip. There was no trace of embarrassment in how she presented herself to him although there was no modesty in her pose. Her skin was silky white and totally unblemished. Her light brown hair hung to the top of the most sensational ass that he had ever seen and partially covered her breasts. Her gravity defying breasts were the perfect size, not too big and not too small. The pencil eraser sized nipples were erect, rising proudly from the light brown aureole. Her face was perfect. Her eyes watched him with direct and piercing intensity, tempered with a softness that spoke of deep understanding of mortal frailty. The irises were the color of emeralds and shone with a light of their own. Her lips were a natural reddish hue that gave them a sensuality that no lipstick could ever achieve. Her lips, raised slightly in a wry smile, conveyed a sense of amusement. The cheeks shone with a natural blush. His gaze returned to her eyes and through them, he saw himself. He felt as though he were the one naked. He knew himself to be filthy from hiking for two weeks without a civilized shower. It had been two days since he had washed himself and that time was in a pitiful stream where the best that he could do was wet his shirt and wipe himself with it. The knees of his pants were permanently stained from kneeling in the dirt and grass. He was not really embarrassed by his physical appearance. That was minor. It was the fact the he knew his soul was laid bare for her to examine at her leisure. At that moment, he had an epiphany. He realized there was a significant difference between being naked and nude. Naked was being exposed and vulnerable to others. Nude was merely lacking clothing. She was nude and he was naked, although he still wore his clothes. Her secrets were still safe while his were exposed for all to see. She beckoned him to follow with her right hand. Dazed and confused, he followed her. He felt a panic rise on those few occasions when she would disappear as she walked around a tree. The panic would only subside when she became visible again. His erection never flagged. In fact, it seemed as though it was stronger with each step that he took. It became painful to walk. He had no idea how far or in what direction they walked when she suddenly stopped beside a ravine. He stopped next to her and stood there never taking his eyes from her. She turned and smiled. With an unexpected ferocity, she tore the clothes from his body. She moved with an unnatural speed and exercised tremendous strength. His leather belt snapped as the blue jeans were ripped off him. He never saw the shirt disappear, but knew that it was gone when shreds of it floated on the breeze around him. One moment he was dressed and the next he was naked with a painful erection reaching towards the sky. Before he even had a chance to react, she threw him to the ground and mounted him. There was nothing giving about this act. She was taking and doing so without any regard to his pleasure. She rocked herself on his cock. It felt as though she were trying to break it off. She grabbed his arms and squeezed painfully drawing blood where her fingernails had become embedded in his flesh. She growled like a wild animal and stared into the sky as orgasm after orgasm ripped through her. With each orgasm, her movements became even less gentle, although he thought it was not possible. Despite the brutality of the act, his body reacted. His arousal grew and soon he came within her. He convulsed as spurt after spurt of cum rocketed into her. He would never be able to recall how long he came, but it felt like hours. After he ejected the last blast of cum, she gently rubbed her hand across his face and dismounted from his cock. When the intensity of his orgasm finally diminished to a point where he was again aware of his surroundings, he looked up to see her towering over him. She pointed across the ravine to a tree. He looked in the direction she had pointed and saw a golden flash as a medallion hung from the branch of tree twisted in the wind. He looked back at her and again she gestured towards the medallion. He gazed at it and looked to her again. Now she frowned and pointed at the medallion a third time. Understanding crashed upon him as he realized that he was supposed to fetch the medallion for her. Confused and in pain from the physical pounding she had given him, he stood and walked to the edge of the ravine. In was only fifteen feet or so deep and thirty feet across. A beautiful blue stream, teaming with fish, snaked its way through the ravine. Lush green plants grew in great profusion. He lowered himself over the edge and carefully started to make his way down. He had to be careful to protect his naked body from further insult by the sharp edges of the stone comprising the wall of the ravine. When he had gone down about fifteen feet, he glanced down. The bottom of the ravine was still fifteen feet below him. Confused, he looked up only to see that the top of the ravine was fifteen feet above him. He continued to lower himself, glancing upwards occasionally. The edge of the ravine soon rose impossibly far above him. The bottom remained fifteen feet below him. He was taken by surprise when he finally reached the bottom. Stepping back, he looked up and saw that the edge of the ravine was only fifteen feet above him. He shook his head as though to clear it as he turned away from the wall of the ravine. His nose was immediately assaulted by the odor of rot and decay. Instead of lush green plants, plants that were pale and brown surrounded him. The plants were mushy and squished between his toes. He stopped for a moment wondering how she had managed to rip his leather hiking shoes from his feet. Steeling himself to the task at hand, he stepped carefully, making his way the few feet to the stream. What had appeared to be a blue stream was now shown as a muddy swamp clogged with algae and dead fish. He searched for stepping-stones, but realized quickly that there was no way to cross without walking through it. Taking a deep breath of the rotten air, he grimaced as he stepped into the muck. Each step released a horrible bubble of noxious gas that threatened to make him vomit. He marched for hours to cross the swamp. He was fearful that if he tried to turn back he would never make it out alive. At a point that appeared to be halfway through the swamp, he encountered a naked young girl, about eight years of age, crying to herself. He stopped and knelt down to put himself at eye level with her. He spoke softly and gently, "Hello there. Are you lost?" The young girl sniffled, "Yeah, I want out of this icky mess." "My name is John. What is yours?" The young girl paused for a minute and then answered, "Missy." "Okay, Missy, how about you and I walk in that direction for a while?" The girl started to cry even more, "I don’t want to walk in this icky mess any more. I wanna go home to mommy and daddy." He stood there for a minute and considered his options. Not finding any options that he liked, he told her, "Why don't you climb on my shoulders and I'll carry you that way?" She smiled, "Are you giving me a horsy ride?" He nodded his head and knelt down for her to climb on. It only took her half a second to settle on his shoulders; legs hanging over each shoulder and her arms around the top of his head. He stood with more than a little struggle, and stated in as cheerful of a voice as he could muster, "Here we go!" Missy shouted out, "Yippy!" He started his march through the swamp. Each step sunk in deeper and it was hard work lifting his foot out of the work. He was definitely tired and this was going to tire him even faster. Each step led to larger releases of noxious gas than when he walked alone. As he marched, he thought about his situation. Here he was, a naked adult carrying a naked girl in the wilderness. The naked girl wasn't even a relative. When he got across the swamp and finally met up with someone, he was likely to be sent to jail as a pedophile. There was no way that he could relate the events that placed him in this position to any sane or rational person, much less someone who was outraged at the apparent offence. He would end up in jail, there was no doubt of that. There was no way that he could set her down and leave her here though. To do that would be a real crime and one that he would have to live with for the rest of his life. His morose thoughts and the sheer effort to take each step demanded all of his attention. So again, he was surprised when he finally made his way out of the swamp although the plants on this side were definitely more disgusting than they had been on the other side. There was no way that he would set the girl in that mess. He walked through the mess, watching as maggots wriggled in the mud and flies bit his ankles and legs. It was with temporary relief that he finally reached the wall of the ravine. He thought he knew what to expect now. Now he had to figure out how to climb up the wall and get the young girl up the wall as well. He set her down near the wall much to her complaints. She had been enjoying the ride through the swamp. He leaned down and stated, "Sorry about that, I have to rest before trying to climb up the wall. Can you climb a little?" Missy thought about it for a minute, "I'm afraid to fall." He thought about it some more and decided there was still a chance, "How about you climb up first and I'll be right behind you to catch you if you fall?" He took a minute to catch his breath and work some of the tension out of the muscles of the back. He helped the girl up the wall before reaching out to climb up the wall himself. As he climbed, the rock face crumbled under his hands. He had to take his time and work his way up carefully. Several times, the girl started to slip and he caught her before she fell much. The sudden strain on his muscles drained what little reservoir of strength that he had. Once, as he was reaching up to find a solid handhold, the rocks he was using for support gave way. He slid twenty feet down the face before catching something solid. He screamed out in pain at the cuts on the front of his body. He glanced down to see that his cock was a bloody mess. He was exhausted beyond human endurance. His body was racked in pain. The only thing that kept him from quitting was the knowledge that if he quit, there would be a little girl lost in this horrible environment. He climbed up to where Missy was watching him with terror in her eyes. He smiled, "Don't worry about me, I would have caught you too." Missy nodded, "Ok." They started to climb together, her leading the way and him right behind her ready to catch her a moment's notice. They climbed and the more they climbed the more determined he became to reach the top. Progress became measured in inches. Determination and focus on his goal drove him up the wall of crumbling stone. Muscles burned, each breath rasped in his throat and sweat running into his eyes blurred his vision. He was not surprised when he finally reached the top. He was unaware that he had reached the top until he realized that he was standing in front of the tree from which the medallion hung with the young girl standing next to him. He smiled down at her, "We made it out of that icky place!" She smiled, "Yea!" He turned to the tree on which the medallion hung and stated, "Let me get this, and then we can go find your home. Ok?" She frowned, "Do you think my daddy will be angry at me to find me without my clothes?" He ran his hand through her hair and answered, "Honey, he's going to be so happy to see you that he won't be mad at you about your clothes." "That's good. I don't like it when daddy gets mad at me. He's real big and scary when he gets mad." He thought about it. All he needed now was a big scary man finding him naked with the girl. Hands trembling he reached out and grabbed the medallion. Lifting it off the branch, he held it in his hands not seeing it. He stared at his hands. The little finger of his left hand was twisted into an unnatural position. The skin of both hands was torn and bloody. All his fingernails were broken. He looked again and realized that one fingernail had come off completely. Numbly he turned to face the ravine only to find the woman standing next to him. She smiled and pulled the medallion from his hands. With dignity and honor, she hung the medallion around his neck. In a voice that seemed to reverberate through the air, she said, "John Carter, it is time for you to rest." He woke leaning against his backpack beside a stream. His clothes were whole and clean. In fact, his clothes looked as good as new. There were no injuries and no pain. He was whole and clean as though he had just had a hot shower. His beard, grown over the month that he had spent out in the wilds, was trimmed and neat. His confusion only increased when he felt an unusual warm feeling spreading from the medallion hanging about his neck. He reached down and touched the medallion. Shaking his head, he said, " I guess it wasn't a dream." As though it was an affirmation, a wind suddenly blew through the trees. The leaves shook. They made a rustling sound as though a hidden audience was moving about. The branches of two adjacent trees banged against each other as though applauding. Chills raced up his spine. He shook himself and took a couple of minutes to collect his thoughts. He decided it wouldn't do him any good to try to puzzle out recent events, but that he did need to take care of the now. The first thing that came to his mind was that he had no idea where he was. He pulled out his GPS from the case on his belt and retrieved his map from the backpack so that he could check his location. To his surprise, he found that he was only a thirty-minute walk from the town that was his destination for the day. He didn't expect to arrive there until late in the afternoon. He checked his watch and was shocked to find that it was flashing random numbers instead of the date and time. The sun was directly overhead so that made it about noon. He replaced his belongings to their proper locations before standing up. Checking his compass, he headed towards town. He decided that he would eat a good meal, spend the night in a hotel and only then would he try to figure out what had happened this morning. Now that he had a plan, he resolutely set about executing it. He was almost in town when a thought that had been in the back of his mind forced itself to his consciousness, 'I was raped by a woman.' He revised that statement; he had made love with a tornado.