Vic: A Savage Place

By Jerry Gill

Vic reads about a man-eating plant in Madagascar.  She doubts it is true but the search will make a good story.  Pirates try to kill her on the way.  She is thrown into a wilderness without supplies.  Thugs attack her in the street.  She finds a mysterious canyon where there are things that should not exist.  By the

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ann Darrow Co
• Release date: Dec 20, 2019
• ISBN: 9781889823928

Book preview

Title page

image_1.png

The Incredible Adventures of Vic Challenger The Reincarnated Cave Girl

Book #9

Vic : A

Savage Place

by Jerry Gill

Edited by

Keeley Monroy

image_2.png

Ann Darrow Co

Kaneohe Hawaii

Excerpts

You talk brave for a little girl without a weapon. Tell me where Challenger is!

She went into the canyon of Mkodo.

When?

An hour or less, Zarah told him.

For a full minute, the man stared into the jungle. Then he smiled. The two men who carried Volana stood behind Volana and Zarah. The man told them, Thanks for carrying the lady. Then he snapped the pistol their direction and put a bullet in the face of each.

from Chapter 10

The voay reared back on its legs and pressed the tail against the ground. In an instant, it was hurtling through the air like a cannonball!

Vic pulled her feet up from the first limb.

The voay’s mouth hit the lower limb and smacked shut.

Vic felt the voay’s head brush the soles of her boots as she pulled up.

That lower limb had a diameter of almost a foot. The mighty jaws of the massive beast snapped it like a matchstick!

Vic pulled higher. Climb as high as you can, she called up the Zarah.

from Chapter 11

Quotes

A good plan violently executed now is better than a perfect plan next week. - General George Patton; what Vic did when she went savage

The pain which honor sometimes brings will depart. Dishonor will blow your spirit away to be lost in the dust of other ugly things forever. – a forgotten Mkodo

Lesson four, think fast and act faster. Like throwing horseshoes or firing a rifle, you need to practice to be better. -Vic to Zarah, 1924

Prologue:

100,000 years ago when life was stupendously savage and every day was a test of your will to live, an epic love was born. Two cave dwellers, Nat-ul, daughter of Tha, and Nu, son of Onu, each a stupendously mighty hunter and warrior to match that time, vowed to love each other as long as the moon would rise in the night sky, which, in their primitive fashion, meant forever. They both died in geologic cataclysms on the very day following their sacred oath. Buried by mountains, one would think their story ended. Yet, since that time the wise of every generation and every culture have proclaimed that true love never dies. There is a reason they say this. In 1896, the moon still rose in the night sky when Nat-ul was reborn as Victoria Custer and as a young woman, the educated Nebraska farm girl vividly recalled her former primeval life and eternal vow. One thousand generations did not cool her love and the recall restored her savage, stone-age instincts and defiant boldness. Now, under the pen name Vic Challenger, she writes adventure travel articles and her work allows her to literally comb the globe in search of present-day Nu. She realizes her quest may take a lifetime and mortal peril may become her regular companion, but she is determined to do whatever it takes to reunite with her eternal love. Perils are inconsequential and time doesn’t matter!

In 1919, Vic remembered her primitive past and swore to find Nu. In early 1920, she began her search in Mexico. Later that year, in September, she traveled with high school friend Lin Li, to Outer Mongolia. The following year, Vic and Lin enjoyed epic travel with excursions to the Grand Canyon, Scotland and a daring trip down the Amazon! In early 1922 the duo searched for treasure in Australia, and in the Fall they visited Siberia as a favor to O.

In January, 1923, Vic and Lin were savagely attacked in their hometown. Lin nearly lost a leg and Doc warned her not to do anymore adventuring as another injury might still cause her to lose it.

In December, she and Lin helped Evelyn Chan solve a haunting and another problem.

Only four months later, April, 1924 Vic’s editor is hankering for new, exotic stories in her column.

Chapter 1 Domestic Trouble

Cold rain and a stiff wind might deter most people, yet to Vic, it was a light mist. Vic was mindful that she looked like a patchwork quilt made from leftover squares. She was wearing the wool headcover she made in Mongolia under the tutelage of Narakaa. Her coat was special-made. MacIntosh material was the outside, and fur from a lion she bagged in Africa lined the inside. All rubber buckle-galoshes covered her usual Oxfords. Her gloves seemed most out of place. They were the mud-stained pair she wore when she worked in her hothouse, but they were warm and handy, and Vic wasn’t going anywhere fancy. She wasn’t going anywhere dangerous, either, so she had no weapon. Vic was pedaling to work early.

It was the middle of April, and there had been many warm days already. That didn’t stop Old Man Winter from producing a late winter storm. Vic didn’t know if her Dad planted anything early this year, but he sometimes did, like most farmers. Consequently, her only concern had nothing to do with the comfort of the ride. Vic wondered how low the temperature dropped overnight. It didn’t snow, so she was hopeful.

It was four-fifty a.m. when Vic arrived at the Beatrice Sun. Along the front of the building an awning covered the walkway. Vic jumped off her bike just before she hit the sidewalk, lifted the bike, and rested it beneath the cover.

As she leaned her ride against the building, Vic took the one item in the basket. It was her special journal. It wasn’t one she carried on trips. It was the one that produced many of her trips! Often her trips were planned by flipping her lucky Buffalo Nickel onto a large map. Sometimes inspiration came from something she read. The journal also included anything with even a remote chance it might give a clue to Nu.

Wrigley’s truck sat backed up near the front entrance. Wrigley picked up papers every morning and dropped them off for paperboys in front of Mortimer’s Drug and other places. Most mornings, he was gone when Vic arrived. Even when he ran a little late, the papers were always loaded when Vic arrived.

The truck was a Model T commercial delivery pickup. It had sideboards with a tarp draped across the top to protect papers on days like this. Wrigley’s truck being there wasn’t a surprise, but Vic could see in the back when she passed it. It was empty. That was a surprise.

Vic grabbed the door handle and pulled and got another surprise. It was locked. Babcock, the man in charge overnight, always unlocked it for Wrigley and left it open for Vic, who always arrived within five minutes of five o’clock. Vic felt goose flesh rising, and the hair on her neck stood up. Something wasn’t right.

The front door opened to a long passage with offices on either side. It emptied into a large open space shared by reporters and assistants. Vic was contemplating knocking when a man’s head appeared on the floor of the open area, and his hat flew off. The hat was a paperboy cap, and she only knew of one person with a red and yellow plaid cap. It belonged to Wrigley.

As fast as Wrigley’s head came in sight, it jerked out of view. Without need for conscious thought, Vic ran back to her bike and dropped the journal in the basket. She sprinted to the side of the building, where there was a fire escape ladder. With only her fingertips, Vic had enough leverage to mount the outer sill of a first-floor window near the ladder. From there, she leapt and caught the end rung of the ladder, and her weight pulled it down. As the ladder touched down, Vic scrambled up.

The escape doors at every landing were locked from outside, but Vic knew a way in. A six-inch wide ledge ran along the side of the building level with the windows on the second floor. Vic stopped at the second-floor landing and went out on the ledge. Fleet and sure-footed, Vic side-stepped along the ledge to the corner office.

That corner office belonged to Vic. She disliked going into a stale, stuffy office, so even in winter she always left that window cracked a little. As soon as she slipped inside, Vic dropped her coat and headcover. Then she took a few seconds to remove the wet galoshes and her Oxfords. Bare feet would be much quieter.

There were no weapons in her office, but there were two hefty globe paperweights. Vic grabbed both before she peeked out, and ventured into the dark and quiet hallway. She could hear voices downstairs but couldn’t make out the words.

Vic moved down the hallway with the silence of a predator on the hunt. At the stairs, she stopped to listen. A man’s voice demanded that someone open the safe. Vic knew he must mean the safe in her editor’s office. She also knew that besides her editor and the paper’s lawyer, no one had the combination.

The stairway Vic used went down into the production area. She stepped down slowly in a crouch so she could see the open workspace sooner. The production area was clear. Vic went to the hallway which led to the reporter’s open bay, and stopped again to listen.

Vic heard Babcock repeat that no one had the combination. The heavy sounds of a punch followed by a thump told Vic that Babcock was down. For a moment, it was silent, and Vic edged to the opening to the bay. Then one man told another to see how heavy the safe was. If we can lift it, we’ll load it into that truck outside and blow it open later.

The time was perfect. Vic didn’t know the total number of robbers, but if one went to her editor’s office, that was one less for the moment. She stepped into the entrance.

Two men were holding guns on the night crew, and Wrigley and their right profiles were toward Vic. One was ten feet from her, and the other was twenty feet away. As soon as she stepped out, the men saw her in the corner of their eyes, and both turned.

Vic was ready. The men were only half-way into the turn when Vic threw a globe overhand at the nearest man. As the right arm sent its message, Vic pulled her left arm back. She swung overhead, windmill fashion, and loosed the second globe.

The first globe made a sickening sound as it collided with a man’s forehead. The other paperweight hit the next thief in his upper chest, and everyone could hear his collar bone crack.

He reached for the pain point, grunted, and fired. His movements pulled the barrel down, and he put a neat hole in a reporter’s desk. By then, Vic was there, grabbed his gun hand, and swung it out and up as far as she could reach. He pulled the trigger again and put a hole in the ceiling. Simultaneously, Vic cracked his nose with her elbow and stomped on his instep. In that second of pain, Vic reached behind his gun arm and grabbed his gun hand. She used her left arm as a fulcrum and took his arm back and down. He only had one way to go.

The man landed full on his back, and Vic dropped a knee hard on his gun arm as she twisted that wrist. As he relinquished the weapon, Vic grabbed a handful of hair to roll him over on his belly.

Then the man who went to test the safe rushed in. Wrigley was waiting. He held a fire extinguisher high and brought it down hard. The thief dropped his weapon, and then he dropped - all in silence save for the thud when he hit the floor. At the thud, Babcock rushed to the editor’s office to phone the police.

Two printers rushed back in from the production area carrying lengths of rope used to tie large bundles of newspapers. One gave a rope to Wrigley, and they each set about tying the other two crooks. The other printer gave a rope to Vic and watched her. She put the man’s hands side by side and formed a loop around each. She tightened the loose ends around the central part of the knot between the man’s hands. Then she tied them off with a simple square knot. The production man watching Vic asked, Can’t he get out of that?

Vic stood and smiled. Not unless he’s Houdini.

Swell! What’s it called? Will you teach me to tie it?

It’s a Tomfool knot. Sure, I’ll show you.

They could hear the bells of police cars closing in, so Babcock hurried to unlock the door.

The first man in the door was Deputy Sheriff Clyde Randolph, husband to Vic’s childhood friend Emma. Only a year ago, he was gravely wounded while on detail to protect Lin Li in the hospital. It gave Vic a good feeling to see Clyde back on duty.

Two of the thieves were still out, but the one Vic took down didn’t have a case of tongue freeze. He spit up answers to Clyde’s questions, non-stop. Why rob a newspaper office? He heard the Sun had a pile of dough in the middle and end of the month when people came in to pay their monthly subscription. It was true that twice a month the Sun did have an extra-large sum in the safe from the weekend. That total was usually in the vicinity of $300.

As Clyde and his men headed the thieves outside, Vic remarked to those around her. So sad. So dumb. Can you imagine risking years in jail, or even the chair if you killed someone and all for the price of a used car?

Wrigley had a busted lip from when the thief decked him, but it was minor, so he went on with his work. He told them, I've been punched harder than that and never stopped whistling. Then he exited whistling Oh Susanna. Papers would be an hour-plus late, but they’d get delivered - something Wrigley took pride in. Babcock was in his office, pounding out the story of the attempted robbery for the afternoon edition. Vic’s editor came in, and after a couple of rounds of story, Monday at the Beatrice Sun resumed normalcy.

Vic filled her assistant Jenny in on the morning, then went to complete the task she planned for five. She went to the morgue.

When Vic first came to the Sun, it had a fine morgue of every edition the Sun ever printed and many papers from Omaha, Lincoln, and Chicago. On joining the Sun, Vic right off asked Jenny to request back editions of newspapers and magazines worldwide. Her stated reason was to look for potential spots to visit, and that was true. Vic’s trip to the Grand Canyon with Lin Li resulted from an old story she read. Yet there was another reason, more important to Vic. She scanned for anything that might give a clue to Nu’s present life, if he was alive.

Besides a jungle of shelves, the morgue had only one table and four chairs. Vic took a cup of coffee and sat down. A new batch of material arrived a few days earlier and was waiting for her.

Nothing caught Vic’s attention for the first hour. Then, armed with her third cup of coffee she took a random paper from the center of the pile. It was the South Australian Register, dated 27 October 1874. Vic