Son Goku's second adventure in the hereafter

Enma calls Enma

Part 8



“So there we are.” Bulma stepped out of the helicopter and brushed her hair back. The sultry heat hit them like a hot, damp cloth.



"Uff!" Yamcha groaned, wishing for a short hairstyle. Kuwabara slipped out of his jacket wordlessly and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to just above his elbows. A haze hung over the jungle in which, according to the radar, the next Dragon Ball should be hiding somewhere.

But since a safe landing in the leafy thicket itself was unthinkable, they had to fight their way through the wilderness on foot, willy-nilly. Yamcha disappeared back inside the helicopter and brought the baggage that they had prepared during the flight. Bulma gratefully accepted the tropical hat and also the water bottle that she hung on her belt.



"So again, so you don't forget!"She took out a capsule and held it out to both of them." Each of you has one. This is the perfect tropical tent with a fan, mosquito repellent and a bed. If a snake bites you, I have an all-round serum with me and a radio so that we can call an auxiliary force. "



"So I think you are overly careful," said Yamcha. "If a snake bites you, I can fly with them to the nearest tropical hospital."



"And what if she bites you, you wise guy?" Asked Bulma pointedly. "Neither Kuwabara nor I can fly, can they?"



"But I could cut a clearing in the forest with my flaming sword so that you can let the helicopter out of the capsule there again," interjected Kuwabara, who didn't like being lumped together with Bulma.



"Oh yes? On a pile of logs, branches and leaves? Of course you could burn down the felled trees, but can you guarantee that the whole forest, damp wood or not, will not burn down?"As far as we know, we shouldn't even be here because some primitive people live there that shouldn't be disturbed. I can whisper to you that if we act like the elephants in a china shop, the government will cause my father a lot of trouble. And don't say they won't find out that it will be. The satellites that monitor such protected areas also come from us and they are guaranteed to locate and report the helicopter on approach. "



The two "heroes" had become smaller and smaller in Bulma's remarks. "It's okay, Bulma," Yamcha said finally. "We have the radar, so we sneak quietly and unobtrusively into the jungle, pick the dragon ball out of the leaves or a knothole and are gone before the little savages even notice that they have had a visitor."



"Your word in Dende's ear," said Bulma gloomily. As a city dweller, the jungle was an abomination.Holding herself close to Yamcha, she climbed over damp, mossy roots that were as thick as her own waist. Every rustling in the thicket made her pause, constantly thinking she saw a snake in a crooked branch on the ground. Then there was the annoying buzz of mosquitoes and nice surprises like a well camouflaged giant spider whose hairy legs suddenly walked over Bulma's hand while resting.



"Uuuhhgrs", Yamcha choked and had every effort to fend off Bulmas, who in her fright had both hands clasped around his neck.



"It's just a spider," said Kuwabara, sweeping the animal off the trunk with a leaf so that it sailed a few meters through the air and then landed on a cushion of moss. "This heat is more of a blow to me," panted the red-haired fighter and wiped his already damp sweat towel over his shiny face for the umpteenth time.



"If only it weren't for those nasty bloodsuckers!"Yamcha, who finally got his breath again, clapped his hand on his neck and picked the flattened mosquito from his skin." Are we still far from the Dragon Ball, Bulma? "



She took a deep breath and fought her hysteria down. Vegeta. She had to hold out for him. He needed the dragon balls, as dangerous as it was in this other universe. With a deep sigh, she pushed herself up from the log on which they had rested and checked the radar. "That way!", She said and pointed to the south.



"Hmm ... Is that just what it looks like, or is there something like a path back there?" Asked Kuwabara.

"You might be right," Yamcha agreed. "That we didn't see it earlier! That way we can make faster progress."



"In addition, the Dragon Ball can't be far," said Bulma after checking the radar again. "My guess is less than three hundred meters."



"With a little luck we won't even have to sleep here," said Kuwabara, relieved, and unbuttoned another head of his shirt.The sweat stains on his back and under his armpits could not be overlooked, but he didn't want to take off his shirt either, because then the mosquitoes would have even more exposure.



The three stomped resolutely towards the barely visible trail. In fact, it was heading in exactly the right direction. Every thirty paces, Bulma checked the radar again.



"We should be there in a minute," she said finally. "Start looking!"

“Alright!” Kuwabara put his head back and fished out the binoculars Bulma had given him. "I just hope that I can even see him, in all the mess of leaves."



Meanwhile, Yamcha was poking around in the bushes with a branch and searching the trunks for any knotholes.



Step by step they advanced south, but they did not find the Dragon Ball.

"Tell me ..." Yamcha paused suddenly and frowned."Don't you feel suspiciously quiet too?"



Bulma swallowed and looked around. Kuwabara lowered the binoculars, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and nodded. "Right, all the birds have stopped moaning"



They didn't have to worry long about what might have caused this silence. Suddenly the bushes on either side of the path parted and ten warriors armed to the teeth with dark skin and bright yellow markings on their faces surrounded the trio.

The three stop as if frozen. But then Yamcha narrowed his eyes and examined the largest of the ten more closely. Indeed, on the bare breast, which was covered with a strange reddish smear, hung a spherical braid on a leather cord. It shimmered orange through the holes in the braid.



"Am I wrong, or does he have the dragon ball on?" he whispered irritated. "Bulma, why didn't you tell us the ball moved?Is your radar broken? "



"He's not!" Hissed Bulma back and clicked wildly on the radar. "This is not a dragon ball!"



"How about we take care of our new friends here first?", Kuwabara growled and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. "Or do you think they want to roll out the red carpet for us?"



Bulma lowered the radar and let her gaze wander from face to face. "Maybe you can talk to them ..." she said in a low voice and pocketed the radar. With outstretched, empty hands, she faced the native leader. "We are very peaceful and really just looking for something. Maybe you can even help us." She felt how Yamcha was in a fighting pose and stabbed him in the ribs with her elbows. "Maybe they know something about the Dragon Ball," she whispered to him. "As long as they don't put us in a saucepan, we'd rather try it with our heads than with our fists."



Kuwabara, who had heard this too, sighed and relaxed. Yamcha did the same. Without the help of the natives, they could scour the thicket with radar for days.

The natives obviously sensed that the strangers no longer wanted to get involved in a fight and exchanged a few remarks in guttural sounds. The three dragon ball seekers could not tell whether these were friendly or hostile words. In any case, the leader beckoned the three of them with his feathered spear to follow them.



Since it was also the direction in which they had wanted to look for the Dragon Ball anyway, the trio followed them without any protest. Somehow Kuwabara couldn't help feeling that there was something badly wrong with this maneuver.



But as they saw the houses of the village in front of them right after the next bend in the road, he swallowed a comment.



They were presented with a traditional native village in the truest sense of the word. Warthogs cavorted between the round buildings made of clay and rush, curtains made of wooden beads and feathers blocked the view inside. The circular village square was dominated by a tall totem pole with gruesome grimaces in dark red, ocher and white. "There, look!" Bulma called to the two men and pointed to the stake. It shone orange in the mouth of the top demon face. Bulma quickly pointed the radar at the stake and the result was nothing to interpret. They had found the next dragon ball.

"What do we do now?" Asked Yamcha, his fists itching tremendously. "I could grab the thing faster than they can see, then I'll grab both of you under my arms and ..."

He got no further, for the tips of the spears pointed at Bulma as if on a secret signal, who dropped the radar in alarm.Before she could reach for it again, a native had already snatched the device and with obvious pleasure pressed all the buttons he could find there.

Drops of sweat formed on Yamcha’s forehead, not just from the heat. Grabbing the dragon ball wasn't a problem, but then what? Okay, if Kuwabara was protecting Bulma he could get the radar, but he had never seen the red-haired fighter in action. What if his response time was too slow? What if the warriors struck with their spears as soon as Yamcha moved toward the Dragon Ball?

While he was still weighing the pros and cons of immediate action, a veritable closet of a man emerged from the largest of the huts. He wore elaborately crafted headdresses and