Shortly after sunrise, it all began again, the tribe seemingly tireless in their mission. The only break came when the cremation of the murdered girl, Ka-Lauma took place but the event had the effect of heightening the desire of the tribe to hurt the perpetrators. How Christian and Ottomier stayed alive seemed a sick miracle in itself but this was due to the expertise of the persecutors, following centuries of experience.
It was on the fourth day that a change occurred. The villagers came from their dwellings as usual at sunrise, painted as before but carrying no weapons of any kind. An unnerving quietness descended on the villagers and they sat in a huge semi-circle before the almost mindless prisoners. Four chosen men then stepped forward, two of whom were carrying small wooden boxes, measuring approximately ten inches by eight and around five inches deep. They stood in twos before the miserable prisoners; one with a box and one without. What good eyes the priests possessed stared transfixed at the boxes before them, sensing something evil and dangerous. The lids were lifted to reveal a scurrying mass of small insects, which the priests easily identified as the poisonous Fire Ants. An involuntary shudder coursed through their bodies, and this included Ignatious.
With ceremonial aplomb, the men with the free hands dipped in and grabbed a handful each. They held the busy insects under the noses of their captives for several seconds, allowing the fear to increase as their minds imagined what was about to happen. The hands moved nearer and then sprinkled the insects onto the shoulders of the quaking men.
Like greyhounds released from the trap, the ants sped over the bruised and torn flesh, exploring the open wounds, biting as they went, scurrying into the warm holes of the ears and nostrils, doing their damage there, also. Ottomier endured the added horror of having the dreadful creatures invading his open eye socket. To the men, it was like having razors slid across their injuries and the screeching began again. In seconds that seemed like hours, the bodies jerked and shuddered in agony as the poisons hit their systems. The mouths that opened to cry out became immediately filled with nasty, biting ants, some speeding down their throats.
One of the tribesmen then brushed away all that could be seen, using a large frond from the abundant ferns that covered the area. They then sat with the rest to watch and enjoy the suffering of Christian and Ottomier.
The bound pair cried and screamed in their unconsciousness, the pain being so severe as to register through the insensible state, the life slowly being drained from them.
As death seemed imminent, and soon, one of the four rose and went to the twitching victims, pressing the compressed-air syringe against their arms. The figures stopped the pained movements and became instantly relaxed, remaining in an unconscious state, the poisons quickly surrendering to the potent antidote.
During that day, Christian and Ottomier were subjected to various injections, administered by use of the reed needles. The effect of these was varied in reaction and intensity, as the drugs that were applied caused muscle spasms and, at other times, frightening hallucinations.
Following the regular pattern, the villagers returned home for their mid-day meals before resuming the entertainment an hour or so later. In between the action, Ignatious was given pure, clear water to slake his intense thirst — an unexpected act of mercy.
On returning for the afternoon session, the villagers sat, as before, in a large semi-circle, while one of their number administered the mind-bending drugs to Christian and Ottomier. As the day dragged towards evening, with both tortured priests nearing the end, their bodies in a sickening mess, their minds in a fury of terror, Ignatious’s friend, Karakta, stood before what was left of Father Christian, holding a timber box, similar in size to the ones before, which he set on the ground. Bending to the box, he lifted the lid, reached in and brought out a large ant, one much bigger than the Fire Ants. This was recognised by Ignatious as a Giant Amazon Ant — a deadly species. He held the wriggling creature in his hand, holding it aloft to the cheers of the onlookers. After allowing time for all to see and applaud, he proceeded to place it at the base of Christian’s neck, letting its legs beat a fast rhythm on the bare flesh where it created several nasty little scratch marks. Karakta then let go of the ant. Immediately it was free, the dreadful insect bit into Christian’s neck before speeding away around his head, biting whenever it felt the urge. It completed its exploration by rushing down the torn side of the tortured priest before losing itself in the surrounding foliage.
Christian gave out a long groan as the muscles of his body spasmed causing his legs and arms to strain against the bonds and his head jerk upwards and back again, side to side and up again. His face took on an expression of moving through a speed barrier as the cheeks flapped and billowed, exposing a mouthful of broken and bloodied teeth, his muscles beginning to paralyse as Ignatious watched. He died in that position.
Before releasing the corpse, two other tribesmen ensured that Ottomier was awake and aware of what was going on, forcing him to look toward his dead companion. Karakta released the body and dragged it ignominiously to the crematorium, while the villagers once more allowed a pathway for the remaining prisoners to see. Karakta single-handedly lifted Christian onto the pod and laid him out, notably omitting the placing of the feathers against the thigh. He then stepped back and lit the fire. As with sister Vasquez, the transparent flame began the spectacle, followed by the sudden sheet of flame that turned the carcass into fuel.
As Ottomier was approached, he began to shake even more violently, dreading the oncoming attack from the Giant Amazon. He gasped with relief as he felt his bonds being unfastened. Could it be that he was to be set free? Had he suffered enough? He prayed to God, as he had not done for so many long months in this paradise gone wrong. Muttering unheeded thanks and falling to his lacerated knees as he was moved from the post to which he had been attached over the last four days, he begged the forgiveness of the tribe. “I have learned my lesson, now,” he croaked. “It will never happen again. Please, forgive me the error of my ways. The good Lord above will punish me as I deserve.”
He then felt himself being dragged painfully to his feet and urged along toward the funeral box. Bewildered, he shuffled forward without resistance until he felt himself again being bound, this time at the wrists with his damaged arms behind him, and then at the ankles. Before he had time to take in the new turn of events, he was lifted into the pod, which was now empty of its hot ash and once more covered with earth and bracken.
Desperate to escape from his prison, Ottomier began to wriggle furiously, ignoring the extremes of pain that the struggle caused him. He screamed for clemency and pleaded for his miserable life but forgiveness was not forthcoming. He heard the dreaded roar of the crematorium fire as it shot into life. The comfortable bed on which he lay began to get warm, the fuel smouldering at its base. Ottomier wriggled and cried, still calling for mercy. The heat became stronger and began to burn and peel the skin from him. The fire was building slowly now, unlike the usual burial, designed to inflict the maximum pain.