Crybaby - Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Eighteen of the blockbuster new novel, Crybaby by best selling, multi-award-winning author Mark Watson...
CRYBABY
©Copyright 2024 by Mark Watson
CHAPTER 18
On the road
Crybaby tore through the jungle, his mind clouded with fury and pain. The rage imbued in him by the dead shaman’s spirit had swelled, flaring hotter after the explosion that had devastated the watchtower. His eyes streamed blood, his ears dripped red, and sharp bamboo splinters jutted from his broad, scarred hide like the spines of a monstrous porcupine. Every few steps, he unleashed a bone-shaking trumpet, a cry of pain and fury that sent animals fleeing from his path in a terrified frenzy. He barreled forward, oblivious to anything in his way; his sheer power was like a storm crashing through the forest. The relentless noise of snapping branches and splintering trees mixed with his anguished bellows, creating an echo of chaos that filled the air and reverberated through the rainforest.
Creatures hidden in the underbrush froze, ears flicked toward the terrifying sounds, before bolting in all directions. Birds burst from the treetops, filling the canopy with frantic flight. Every animal in his path scrambled to avoid his pounding feet and thrashing tusks, instinctually aware that Crybaby’s rage was deadly. Around him, a cloud of flies buzzed in an eager swarm, drawn to the scent of his fresh blood and the thick, heady musth flowing from the glands near his ears, mingling with the smell of smoke and charred flesh.
The explosion had done its damage. It had thrown Crybaby off his feet, showering him with shrapnel that tore into his hide; one of his massive ears was deafened, and flames had scorched an entire side of his body, leaving his skin blackened and cracked. Each step he took was a massive quake, as if the jungle itself trembled beneath his weight. His legs, like great tree trunks, hammered down in a thundering rhythm that shook the ground and caused entire branches to shiver and fall from the canopy above. The forest quaked in his wake, echoing with the primal fury of his charge.
Within moments, Crybaby exploded from the dense green into the open space of the main road, swaying slightly as his eyes adjusted to the light. Ahead, a truck driver slammed his brakes, his wide-eyed gaze meeting Crybaby’s fierce, blood-covered face. For an instant, there was silence as beast and man locked eyes—then the driver jolted into action, reversing frantically. Crybaby twisted his head, his ears flapping wildly, and trumpeted as he lumbered forward, driving terror ahead of him. Mopeds that had pulled onto the road swerved and sped off in a wild, zigzagging frenzy, their riders hunched low, trying to avoid the enraged elephant’s gaze.
One moped rider, thinking he could maneuver past, attempted to dart around Crybaby. But the elephant spotted him. Crybaby took a sidestep, like a cricketer at the crease, and swung his massive trunk, batting the driver off his seat and sending him hurtling through the air and into the jungle on the other side—a perfect six. His vacated moped skidded to a stop and toppled over in the middle of the road, where Crybaby, with a furious stomp, reduced it to twisted metal beneath his foot.
The truck driver had managed to put some distance between himself and Crybaby, nervously steering in reverse around the bend of the road. But as he rounded the corner, he crashed straight into an oncoming car whose driver had no time to react. Metal crunched, glass shattered, and the air filled with the acrid stench of fuel and smoke. The truck driver, seeing his escape cut off, wasted no time in scrambling out of the cab and sprinting away.
Crybaby, rounding the corner at full speed, let out a piercing trumpet before charging at the wreckage. With a deafening crash, he smashed into the truck’s front, crumpling the metal and shaking the vehicles like toys. The impact left Crybaby momentarily dazed, his eyes unfocused, his head swaying slightly from side to side as he stumbled back a step. But even in his disoriented state, the bloodlust driving him forward was relentless.
The truck driver, who had taken cover behind a thick tree, saw his opportunity and slipped out from hiding. He dashed over to the car, reaching in to help the passengers who were still inside, their faces pale and shaken. The driver cast one last glance back at Crybaby, who had turned and was lumbering unsteadily into the forest, his huge body swallowed up again by the dark green of the jungle.
Crybaby was easy for the rangers to track. His path through the forest looked as though a hurricane had torn through, leaving chaos in its wake. Trees lay twisted and shattered, trunks splintered and jagged where they’d been snapped by his massive bulk, and younger saplings had been flattened into the earth, crushed under his weight. Here and there, branches were torn clean off, scattered in broken heaps along his route. The ground itself bore deep, blood-splattered footprints, massive impressions pressed into the soil, with smears of crimson marking where he’d grazed against trunks and bushes. Vegetation that had managed to remain upright was trampled underfoot or stripped clean of leaves and bark where his hide had scraped by, leaving a ragged, raw scar through the jungle.
The rangers moved cautiously, initially expecting to find the elephant nearby, perhaps collapsed or staggering from his wounds. They knew the explosion had been severe, enough to destroy the watchtower, and it seemed unlikely Crybaby could have gone far. But as they followed the trail deeper into the forest, signs of his movement grew more hurried, the spaces between his enormous prints lengthening. Despite the destruction of the tower, it was becoming clear that his injuries had not slowed him much at all; if anything, his pace had only increased, as though some powerful drive was propelling him forward, pain and exhaustion overridden by sheer rage.
Around them, the forest still echoed with the aftermath of his fury. Birds had fallen silent, their songs replaced by the rustling of animals fleeing deeper into the jungle, a nervous energy buzzing through the undergrowth as even small creatures sensed the havoc Crybaby had left behind. The rangers exchanged glances, realizing they needed to move faster if they hoped to intercept him before he reached the road. The morning light filtering through the canopy cast long shadows across their path, and with each step, the urgency mounted.
Picking up their pace, they raced down the path Crybaby had carved, branches snapping underfoot as they kept their eyes on the distant glimmers of sunlight through the broken foliage. The humid air was thick with the sharp smell of crushed leaves and damp earth, mingling with the faint, metallic tang of elephant blood.
The bandits, equally unaware of Crybaby’s true condition, pressed forward from the fort, cutting a ragged line through dense undergrowth and weaving around thick roots that jutted like skeletal fingers from the forest floor. With machetes slashing through stubborn vines and rifles ready, they tracked the elephant’s progress from afar. From the hilltop, they’d watched birds scatter in frantic flocks, disturbed by the destruction Crybaby left in his path. Branches snapped and leaves shook as they advanced, their eyes keen on any sign of the beast.
Convinced that the explosion had left Crybaby gravely injured—perhaps on the verge of collapse—they moved carefully at first, expecting to find him bloodied and weakened, perhaps staggering. They approached as hunters stalking wounded prey, rifles drawn for an easy kill. Their plan was to intercept him near the forest’s edge and kill him before he reached the road.
The path from the fort was more treacherous than they’d expected. It was a narrow, twisted route, used only by those who had no fear of getting lost in the thick jungle. Dense walls of vines clawed at their clothes, while low-hanging branches scratched their faces and arms. Thick brush surrounded them, and patches of thorn-studded brambles clung to their ankles. Rajan, at the front, hacked with relentless speed, urging his men forward. He knew they had to reach the road before the rangers to seize the upper hand. Each delay ate into their advantage, and he barked orders whenever they slowed.
Every few minutes, the jungle would reverberate with a deep, guttural trumpeting that grew louder with each step they took. The sound sent ripples of unease through the group, and Rajan noticed some of the men exchanging wary glances. None of them relished the thought of meeting the frenzied elephant, even in its supposedly injured state. The explosion and loss of men on the tower had rattled them, and now the idea of closing in on the enraged, demonic beast unnerved even the bravest among them.
But Rajan kept his gaze ahead, steeling his nerves and signaling for the group to pick up the pace. Timing was everything—if they could intercept Crybaby first, they’d have the opportunity to create a kill zone, catching the elephant between themselves and the rangers in a deadly trap.
As they neared the forest’s edge, a sharp, thunderous crash split the air, followed by a series of rapid, bone-rattling snaps as massive trees toppled, stripped down by Crybaby’s relentless rampage. The ground shuddered beneath them, and the bandits could feel each quake in their bones. Rajan froze for a moment, listening intently, then signaled for silence. The roaring destruction was close—far closer than he’d expected—and his pulse quickened as he motioned his men to stay low and keep their rifles ready.
As they neared the forest’s edge, the sudden cracks of trees crashing to the ground warned them that the elephant was approaching—and still barreling forward at an alarming speed.
As the rangers approached the main road, the blaring horns grew louder, an unbroken cacophony that echoed off the trees like an alarm. The sound hinted at chaos, and they exchanged tense looks before breaking into a sprint. They followed the tunnel-like path Crybaby had gouged through the forest—its broken branches and flattened undergrowth painted a picture of the elephant’s fury and strength. The sunlight streamed through the canopy, illuminating patches of splintered bark and crushed foliage, casting an eerie glow on the passage that led toward whatever lay ahead.
At that same moment, Rajan gathered his men into a tight huddle beneath the cover of thick vines and looming tree trunks. His voice was low but commanding as he addressed them. “Listen carefully. Whatever you find on that road—be it rangers or the demon elephant—charge in with all you’ve got. Keep them focused on you, keep them facing forward. I’ll circle around and come at them from behind. You hold their attention. Understood?”
The men nodded, their jaws clenched as they gripped their rifles with white-knuckled hands. A flicker of fear crossed some faces, but each man steeled himself, meeting Rajan’s gaze. He could see the determination building in them, hardening like tempered steel as they readied themselves for the confrontation. Rajan gave a short nod, satisfied they would follow his orders to the letter.
The bandits nodded back, gripping their rifles tightly, their eyes steely as they summoned their courage. Rajan looked each man squarely in the eye, then melted into the thick forest to make his flanking move.
The rangers sprinted onto the road, scanning for the elephant. Crybaby was nowhere in sight, but up ahead, the remains of a moped lay crushed and mangled near the bend in the road.
“There!” Ahanna shouted. They charged forward, rounding the curve to a chaotic scene of smoldering vehicles—a truck and several cars, horns blaring endlessly. Just as they registered the scene, a group of men armed with AK-47s appeared, sprinting toward them. The bandits spotted the rangers and unleashed a storm of gunfire, automatic rounds tearing through the air.
“Down!” Ahanna yelled, and the rangers dropped instantly, taking cover and returning fire with sharp precision.
The gunmen, despite their deadly firepower, were poorly trained—some fumbling with their weapons, while others fired wildly, bullets pinging off the road or flying high over the rangers' heads. Shouting and emboldened, they tried to advance, but their aim was sloppy. Ahanna and Raj fired back with careful precision, their shots keeping the bandits at bay.
Two of the charging gunmen fell instantly as one ranger, with a practiced hand, fired off two quick shots. The remaining bandits scattered, scrambling for cover behind the wrecked vehicles as they realized their initial confidence had been misplaced.
Accurate gunfire from the rangers thudded into the car’s chassis, pinning the bandits down. One of the gunmen, desperate, held his rifle out blindly from behind the cover and sprayed bullets toward where he thought the rangers were positioned—until a shot from Ahanna smashed his weapon from his hands. Stunned, he peeked out from behind the truck, and Raj, the ranger with the steadiest aim, fired a tranquilizer dart straight into his cheek. The bandit reached up in disbelief to pull the dart from his face, but the elephant-sized dose worked instantly, and he toppled out of cover, landing flat on his back, unconscious and staring up at the sky.
Seeing this, the remaining bandits huddled behind the truck, clutching their rifles to their chests, paralyzed by fear.
“Throw down your weapons!” Ahanna shouted. “This is your only chance. We’re moving up.” She signaled for the rangers to stay alert, anticipating the possibility of more gunfire. But there was no need to worry. The rifles clattered to the ground next to the stunned bandit, and the others, panic-stricken, bolted from cover. Using the truck as a shield, they dashed around the corner and vanished into the forest.
Just before the gunfire had erupted, Rajan had been creeping carefully through the dense underbrush, each step silent, his eyes constantly scanning the shadows of the jungle. He was attuned to every sound—the rustle of leaves, the distant bird calls, the subtle hum of insects—when suddenly he felt a low, rolling tremor rise up through the ground and into his bones. The vibration was subtle at first but intensified with each second until it felt like the whole forest floor was quaking beneath him. Rajan froze, muscles tensed, heart pounding, a cold wave of dread washing over him as a tremendous crashing sound filled the air. It was the unmistakable, primal noise of splintering wood, as if whole trees were being torn down in a monstrous path of destruction.
He knew, with a terrible certainty: Crybaby was coming straight at him.
Rajan quickly ducked behind the trunk of the largest tree he could find, flattening himself against the rough bark, its scent thick and earthy in his nostrils. He could hear the elephant’s approach growing nearer, a chaotic storm of snapping branches and shuddering ground. Hastily, he cocked his rifle, eyes darting across the jungle, trying to locate the behemoth in the shifting green shadows. And then, in an instant, Crybaby exploded into view.
The sight was horrifying. The elephant’s massive body was dark with streaks of drying blood, its thick hide punctured by razor-sharp shards of bamboo embedded like the spikes on a dinosaur’s tail. One side of his body was raw and blackened, scorched from the earlier explosion, his skin cracked and blistered. Crybaby's eyes, wild with fury, glowed red in the filtered sunlight, and his trunk swung like a deadly whip as he rampaged through the forest, leaving utter ruin in his wake.
Rajan’s breath caught in his throat, his pulse hammering. For a split second, he was sure that the elephant had locked eyes with him, and he braced himself, envisioning those lethal tusks slicing through his body. Crybaby’s towering form seemed to loom even larger, the air thick with the heavy scent of sweat and blood as the elephant barreled closer, unstoppable, a juggernaut of rage. Rajan pressed himself further against the tree, heart racing, instinct screaming at him to run but knowing it was already too late.
Then, with the force of a runaway freight train, Crybaby thundered past him, close enough that Rajan could feel the rush of air displaced by the massive body. The ground shook with each of the elephant’s pounding steps, a force that vibrated up through Rajan’s legs as he clung to his hiding place. Crybaby was gone as suddenly as he’d appeared, crashing through the trees and disappearing into the jungle, his colossal form swallowed up by the greenery as if he’d never been there.
Rajan stood rooted to the spot, barely daring to breathe, his body still pressed tight to the tree trunk, his mind reeling. He let out a shaky exhale, releasing the breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding, his heartbeat beginning to slow. The jungle fell silent once more
Rajan whipped around from behind the tree, sliding the bolt back on his rifle, but all he saw were the trembling leaves where Crybaby had disappeared back into the jungle’s shadows, as if the monstrous creature had been nothing more than a fevered mirage. The elephant’s crashing sounds faded, leaving only Rajan’s own rapid breaths filling the thick, humid air.
He took a long, deliberate breath to steady himself, feeling the thundering pulse in his veins slow. The path ahead led him along the outskirts of the road, where he moved with practiced stealth, navigating the undergrowth with his eyes sharp and senses primed. Then suddenly, the sharp crackle of automatic fire shattered the jungle’s quiet, snapping him out of his focus and drawing his attention sharply to the east. He instinctively ducked, cocking his head to follow the gunfire’s location. It was close.
With the urgency of a predator, he slipped into the shadows, pressing low as he plunged further into the trees. Guided by the sound, he moved parallel to the road, slipping past dense clusters of vines and looming ferns until he reached the edge of the tree line, where he crouched, peering out at the unfolding chaos.
The scene before him was one of devastation. The rangers were positioned low along the road, weapons ready, returning precise fire at the bandits who were huddled behind the twisted, smoking remains of a truck. The vehicle’s metal was peppered with bullet holes, steam and smoke pouring from its crumpled hood. The rangers, well-trained and calm, fired with accuracy, pinning down the remaining bandits. Rajan had anticipated this outcome; he knew his men were outmatched in skill, and he’d sent them in as little more than cannon fodder to draw attention. Now, he was positioned exactly where he wanted to be, hidden on the rangers’ flank with a perfect line of sight.
From his vantage point, he watched as the last few of his men tossed their weapons aside and fled, scrambling over the rocks and brush to escape the rangers’ relentless fire. Rajan took his time, surveying the scene with cold calculation. He shifted his grip, then raised the rifle and braced it against his shoulder, his gaze narrowing as he adjusted his aim.
His target was Ahanna, the ranger leader he’d been sent to kill. Through the scope, he saw her clearly: she had just risen from cover, standing with her back to him, her face turned toward her team as she congratulated them. Her shoulders were square, her focus elsewhere. From this distance, Rajan knew he could hit her with ease. He took a steadying breath, feeling the rifle become an extension of his own body, his heart slowing to a deadly rhythm.
He exhaled slowly, his finger tightening on the trigger, blocking out everything but his target.
Ahanna was turning to smile at Raj when a single shot cracked out—a shot that would change EVERYTHING.
END OF CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Please help!
Consider supporting me by making a small donation at “Buy me a coffee”, your support helps me write more books for you.
There are no differences between paid and free subscriptions on my Substack, except that warm fuzzy feeling, knowing that you are supporting an independent Author, and my gratitude 🤩
I pour my heart into writing, editing, and perfecting Crybaby each week to ensure you enjoy every chapter!
If the story is bringing you joy, show your support here…
Thank you for reading.
Your time and curiosity are truly appreciated. Stay tuned for more exciting content and stories.
Until next time!
All the best, Mark 🤩
P.S. Tell your friends…
Share 🎪 The Travelling Circus 🎪
Join us on future adventures! Subscribe for the latest projects, creative insights, and exclusive content…
Be the first to dive into upcoming releases, get behind-the-scenes access, and enjoy special treats.
Don't miss out—sign up now! Unlock a world of imagination, inspiration, and storytelling joy with every newsletter.
Thanks for being part of our journey—subscribe and let the enchantment continue!
EXCLUSIVE: Subscribe and enjoy the hilarious science fiction novel The First Mann On Mars…
