A JUNGLE STORY
By Neel Anil Panicker
Inspector Iqbal Khan was in a bad mood. He had never been inside a jungle.
The closest he had come to a wooded experience was when as a kid he and his cousins had scaled the seven-foot-high walls of the sprawling farmhouse adjacent to their ancestral village house and scurried back again, the pockets of their cotton half pants bulging with ripened Alphonsos, the King of Indian mangoes.
‘Sir, be careful. There are a lot of snakes around here,’ said his prisoner, adding, ‘every year quite a few people die here of snake bites.’
Inspector Khan felt froth forming in his mouth.
A stab of pain shot up his chest.
Though only mid afternoon, darkness had descended.
The two were in the heart of a dark jungle. All he could see was a thick coating of green as giant leafy trees, theirs barks twice the size of an elephant’s legs, ate up every square inch of the earth.
“How far is it?,” he shouted out his, his legs knee deep in slush, his brand new khaki police uniform now all wet and lathered with muddy soot.
‘Sir, over there, see that undergrowth. I’ll go down and get it’.
A mere ten feet ahead of them lay a stony bridge. Under it, half hidden from view, stood a gaping hole, just enough for a person to slither through.
‘Bastard, what a place to hide fifty lakh rupees’.
Inspector Khan pulled out his pistol.
Pointing it at the thief, he barked, “Ok, you go and get the money”, adding “any tricks and I’ll blow your head off”.
The lanky old criminal smiled and entered the tunnel.
‘Let the fool wait for eternity while I vanish through the secret chamber’.
©neelanilpanicker2017 #fiction #thursdayphotoprompt #writephoto #287words