He sat up in a blind rage, wildly looking around -- saw Drake sitting next to him, wide-eyed. Hank got to his feet, tore out of the tent, Broddle ran out of his tent -- tried to stop him! How could he dream of stopping Hank? Hank backhanded him, he wanted to hurt him, he wanted to --

Four strong arms grabbed him from behind, Vike and Rawe. Hank struggled, and suddenly Broddle's fist collided with his eye -- oh the pain, the white-hot throbbing pain, it was so dull, why could he not ignore it? It was not like a... a SharpStick or... or... Boom... another pain. This time he only saw blackness. He felt himself fall to the cool grass and he could taste the warm night air --

Blue neon waves drifted in front of his face in the darkness.

His thoughts in the dream were so disturbing he was sure he was going insane -- they had to stop soon, oh please -- This time when he woke up, he saw nothing. Blurred grass and dirt was all he could view. Realizing he was face down, he slowly turned over. Nothing but the top of the tent.

It was raining, the hard pitter-pats of drops were staining the tent. He was alone... Why did he expect for caring face to be surrounding him? Did he expect to have Broddle and Drake and Rawe -- all to be looking at him with concern on their faces? He did not get up, his head was throbbing...

He just closed his eyes and listened to the pleasant sound of the rain. He drifted in and out of consciousness -- there were moments when he heard the pitter-patter, and moments when he only saw distant dreams, sometimes neither... Finally Hank woke up and could not fall asleep again, he was restless and his legs ached, he wanted to sit up -- He worked up the courage to sit up; many sore vertebrae in his spine groaned in the effort. He slowly got to his feet -- Hank gingerly touched his forehead as it pained and ached. He shakily walked outside...

Hank looked at the ground with his back slumped in horrible posture as he approached the group. He pulled up a chair, sat, and did not stop looking at the ground. A long silence, then Vike spoke. "What happene -- ?" he asked, but Broddle cut him off. "You went beserk," he said, answering Hank. "Days of heat have gotten to you. Obviously... you are not as... let me put it this way. You are what we call, 'faible'." Hank rolled his eyes. "What kind of French word is that?" he said, irritated.

"Weakling," answered Broddle, annoyance in his voice and a shimmer in his eyes. Hank stood up from his chair abruptly, nearly knocking it over.

"Wait just a minute, Broddle, I'm not 'El Cable' or whatever it is! The only weakling here is you!" Rawe became angry. "He is the weakling? You don't see him lying on the ground, crying for food, passing out every few days!"

"Dont you speak to him like that!" Drake roared. "You're lucky I didn't let you end up like Traff!" Rawe kicked his chair over. "How'll you end up?!" Rawe acquired a gun from his jacket and pointed it directly at Hank. "I'm going to save us. He won't attack us once he's dead," he retorted, his bald cranium glistening with sweat. The end of the gun was fuzzy, too close for Hank's eyes to concentrate on.

Broddle, Vike, and Drake all tackled Rawe, sending crushing blows to him. He dropped like a heavy sack of rocks. They were all crawling on him, trying to punch every possible inch of Rawe. Rawe was still holding onto his pistol, they could not wrestle it out of his hands --

A deafening boom rang out, and then ominous silence. Someone was dead. Hank hurried to the pile, he had to find who was killed -- Rawe was okay, but battered, Broddle had been kicked in the face, but okay, Vike was relatively fine, but that -- that left --

Drake was still lying limply on Rawe, Hank nervously pulled him off, and stared into his brother's face. Drake stared at Hank, unresponsive, his mouth gaping, his eyes blank -- "Nooo!" screamed Hank -- this couldn't have happened, there was no possible way the great Drake Crenul was dead, he must have been playing with Hank, Drake loved jokes -- Hank held his big brother in his arms, looked to the sky -- why now? -- he had not even had last words -- mundane finality --

Realizing his brother was really dead, he slowly placed Drake on the ground. Silently, he gazed longingly into his eyes, those blue, blue eyes -- Then Hank broke -- he was nothing, useless. Tears fell from his bloodshot eyes. He rested his face against Drake -- dear Drake. He held onto him for a long time -- it seemed forever. Then Hank stood up. He was no one. He was safe. There was nothing worse to do to him now. He had been tortured too long.

He stared at his brother's killer. Rawe, the monster, the man who turned to be a no-good, filthy, scum-faced monster. With the most strength he could muster, his voice malevolent with hatred and rage, he tackled Rawe with a scream that filled the quiet Serengeti with unnatural sound.

He was on him now, bashing his fist into every part of Rawe he could see, ripping the gun out of his hand -- he jammed his legs and fists into the enemy. All on Hank's mind was to cause Rawe as much pain as possible. When he could no longer fight, he aimed the pistol at Rawe's face. He wanted to end him, just as Rawe had ended his brother...

He sat up, let the rage consume him, he was not faible, he was a vicious, cold-blooded man. He could not control the anger flowing through him, could not fight it, did not want to. He shakily got to his feet. Not taking Rawe out of his sight, he walked next to Broddle and Vike. "You're the sailor," he growled. "What should we do to him?" Broddle looked suspiciously at Hank, then moved over to a tent and started tearing it down. He gathered supplies, food, and everything else they needed.

"We're leaving him," Broddle answered as he walked past Hank. He set off into the deeper heart of the Serengeti. Hank picked up Drake and sadness struck his heart. As he carried him -- following Broddle and Vike -- Rawe screamed, "This is illegal!" Hank turned around. "Do you see a government around here?"

He had to give the man something, he needed at least one small chance to survive. Hank threw a small rectangular prism at Rawe, it flew in the air, at Rawe's feet, it was something so useless, so insignificant -- Hank and turned and walked away. Hopefully, Rawe could survive on a nutrition bar.

He got control of himself after sobbing until his eyes were red, and Hank walked back into the tent. He sat down in a chair, and the anger and adrenaline slowly drained from him. He realized he was exhausted and in terrible pain from the many cuts and bruises he had.

Hank looked around. Everything was hopeless; Broddle was rubbing his mighty bruise, Vike had a large red scar running from his eye to his cheek -- did he look the same? Did Hank look as hurt and miserable as the rest of them? He felt so. He leaned back in the chair -- and so ended the day that Drake Crenul had died.

Surprisingly, Hank did not have dreams of death -- he had no dreams at all. He woke peacefully and indifferently walked out of the tent. It was a misty morning; it had rained heavily the night before, and gentle mist floated above his knees as he stepped in the damp grass.

Hank wandered around -- he looked at the bright sky and the thick grass. He trudged to Drake's grave, and he saw something peculiar... He gasped, not trusting his eyes! On Drake's burial spot grew -- there grew the Qualum! "Wow," whispered Hank, kneeling to examine the flower. Growing out of the brown soil, was a small black-and-pink flower. And -- just like that -- ended two years of research on the amazingly rare Qualum plant.

They wandered through the brush until night fall, and then they set up camp. Hank thought this would be a good place to bury Drake. With tears swimming in his eyes, Hank dug a deep hole, about seven feet deep. He wiped his eyes and slowly lowered Drake into the ground. He said his goodbyes and filled up the hole -- Drake was left to be there -- always and forever.

He turned to face the tent. "Broddle! Vike!" He heard the two men shuffling around, and then they both came running from the tent. "I've found it!" Hank yelled. "I've got -- "

He was cut off by an earsplitting roar -- the Yeti was coming. Hank quickly looked around. About 200 yards away was the Yeti -- running directly at them! Hank turned and ran immediately -- not looking back, he hustled past Broddle and Vike. They caught up with him quickly, he was a bit slow, but he stayed at their sides. He heard more shrieking of the Yeti, and loud crashes as it knocked down small trees and bushes in its destructive path.

The three men sprinted, panting hard as the Yeti smashed around behind them. It through a whole tree limb at Broddle, who got hit in the back of the head. He fell to the ground with a thump. Hank kept running, but Vike pulled back.

"Sir!" he yelled. Hank grabbed him by the shirt and dragged Vike to safety. "He can take care of himself!" he screamed, but did not believe it. They found a large tree to hide behind. Hank peeked around to see what was going on. The Yeti scooped up Broddle; the man looked tiny compared to the 16-foot monster.

He had the man now, he could hurt him -- have his revenge. The man would be punished for hurting him with his SharpStick. He had the man in his grip, was about to punish him when -- The man said something in a language he did not understand, and he pulled out a BoomStick --

He screeched, that would scare the man -- but the man held onto his BoomStick. He smashed him against the ground -- the man screamed -- yes, he did not like that. Again and again he smashed the man until he finally silenced. Completely happy, he walked away...

"Die, you filthy ape!" roared Broddle. The Yeti roared, and Hank covered his ears. Broddle attempted to shoot the Yeti -- "Noo!" Vike yelled as Broddle was smashed into the ground.

Again and again, Broddle would be crushed to the floor and let out a piercing shriek. Another crash, another scream. Finally Broddle fell silent, and the Yeti dropped him. "No!" repeated Vike, trying to run to save Broddle. Hank held him back. "There's nothing you can do!"

He covered Vike's mouth as he let out silent, heavy sobs. He pressed himself against the tree as the Yeti started to walk past. He sank to his knees, trying to silence Vike. The Yeti curiously trudged past, occasionally stopping. When it was finally out of sight, Vike began to fight off Hank. He was forced to release Vike and followed him to Broddle.

There was thick blood oozing from Broddle's mouth. His face was in a shocked state. Vike threw himself over his Captain's body, loudly sniffing and crying. Looking at a broken man, Hank became angry. He picked up Vike. "Listen to me," he said sternly, knowing this would help the man the most.

"This man is dead," he continued. Vike began to make miserable sobs. "Listen to me!" Vike stopped almost immediately, and looked at Hank. Hank repeated, "This man is dead."

He looked at Vike in the eyes. "You have to realize that. You have to accept that. I felt this way when Drake died. Now get to your feet, suck it up, and pull yourself together. Don't get sad. Get angry. Don't you want revenge on this monster? The monster that did this to your best friend?"

Vike began to fight back the sobs and nodded. Hank nodded back at him. "Are you okay?" Vike nodded again. They both stood up. Walking to the tent, Vike asked Drake, "How'll we kill it?" Hank looked at him, triumph in his eyes. "Killing it? That comes after we wound it."

"Where is it going?" whispered Vike. "We'll see," said the patient Hank, quietly stalking the ape. It led them to a giant spot in the Serengeti, where there were no trees or animals, and a giant pile of thousands of leaves on one end. The Yeti yawned; it sat down and rested its head against the leaves.

"Is this its bed?" inquired Hank quietly, looking at Vike. "Guess so," mumbled Vike, tracing the scar running down his face. "I think it's time," Hank said after a long pause. Vike shot him an anxious look. "Time for what?"

Hank smiled. "The plan," he answered. They had been planning their killing of the Yeti for forty-two hours now -- it was time they acted it out. Vike pulled out two guns they had -- he sliced open all of the bullets but one -- and Hank poured the gun powder from the spot they were at to the Yeti.

Hank continued to pour the trail until he came to the Yeti. He drew a deep breath and continued. He poured a bit of gunpowder onto the Yeti's fur. Then, completely ruining the plan, the Yeti rolled over, and its back crushed Hank's leg.

Oh, the pain. He suppressed a scream into the ground and tried to yank his leg out from under the crushing weight. The agony was unbearable. He slammed his head to the ground, gritting his teeth. He groaned for a few seconds. Then he realized what he had to do. Hank knew he had to die.

He looked at Vike, ready to join Drake in the sky. "Shoot the powder!" Hank whispered. Vike looked at Drake -- shook his head with a scared expression. "Yes!" Hank whispered again, grinding his teeth against the pain. He buried his head in his lap.

Vike hurried next to him -- said, "I will not let you go!" -- he was trying to save him -- FOOL! "If you won't," said a familiar voice. "I will." Rawe stepped into view -- cocked the gun -- aimed at the trail -- fired!

"Two-faced, lying, backstabbing traitor!" screamed Hank. The fire on the trail quickly worked its way up. As the flames reached the end of the trail, Vike looked at Hank. Hank nodded, and Vike quickly ran away.

As the fire consumed his pant leg, Hank had one thought. I'm not going to make it, his subconscious screamed. I'm not going to make it.

The Yeti was on fire now, it jumped up with a yelp that reached the heavens. Hank was being singed and burned on his leg now, the pain was so indescribable. He watched as it hurt him so badly -- but he was crippled -- he wanted to move, he wanted to get the fire off -- but he couldn't roll it off!

He crawled across the grass. If only there was some water -- He screamed as the fire consumed his waist -- then he saw what could save his life. Hank crawled to the pile of leaves -- maybe the fire would transfer to a more easily burning material.

He swung his legs into the leaves -- he was being burned alive! -- he wanted it to end, before he lost it, before he went insane -- And suddenly the pain was gone -- it was no longer hurting him -- Hank looked at his body. He was very badly burnt, but the flames were gone. The pile of leaves were on fire now -- molten ashes were rising into the sky --

Then he saw the Yeti -- something so beautiful... but so deadly. A wonder -- but a monstrosity. Its white fur was ablaze now; it roared into the sky! Heaving its final breaths, it stood still for a moment, looked at the things that had ended it -- "That's right. I was the one who killed you," thought Hank. The beautiful monstrosity let out one last wretched screech, and then fell -- it seemed like in slow motion -- it was tumbling down -- It fell on top of Rawe -- completely shattering his bones. Vike, unhurt, ran to Hank's side. "Hank... " he said. He gazed at Hank's burned body.

"I'll be alright," he said. Vike scooped him up, carried him to the Yeti's body. The beast was face up, unmoving, calm. For once it looked serene -- even happy. Vike placed Hank down on the ground. "Hank," he said. "I think someone's going to have to amputate your legs." Hank looked down -- his knees and shins were completely black. He started to cry. He had come all this way just to get his legs chopped off. All this for a stupid --

"No they won't," Hank replied. He carefully removed the cup holding the Qualum from his pocket. He looked at the tiny flower. "Do you have a syringe?" Vike handed him one from a medical kit. Extremely carefully, he inserted the needle into the Qualum. He extracted the healing fluid and removed the syringe.

"Here goes," he said. He felt the needle penetrate the crook of his left arm. He injected the fluid into his system, and removed the needle. "I should be healed in a few minutes," he said to Vike. Vike eagerly looked at Hank's burns, waiting to watch them heal.

Slowly... Hank started blacking out. He couldn't see anything. Was this normal? He heard Vike saying, "Hank?... "

Then Hank Crenul died.

At this point in the story, you must be thinking -- "How did Hank die?" I will explain. In the prologue, the tour guide explains that Dr. Gregor Flint had gone on a trip to the Serengeti. He was alone, and one day he had been horribly wounded by a leopard.

Then he discovered the Qualum. It was a pretty plant, and he believed the popular myths the natives had informed him -- that it would cure his wounds. He injected the fluid into himself and died. The myth was untrue; the Qaulum was a poison flower. A drop to the blood will shut down your heart. He was alone in the Serengeti, and his body was found in 1912.

Everyone thought Dr. Flint had stayed in the Serengeti for years and eventually died. And the rumor spread wider of the 'healing' Qualum flower, when really it was a deadly poison.

This popular belief was debunked in 1989 when Jerald Vike claimed that his friend, Hank Crenul, had died after using the Qualum. Evidence supported this to be true, and the Qualum was deemed a poison plant. To this day all researches of the flower have been stopped. This story was written by Arthur B. Uval, who interviewed Jerald Vike and typed this story, titled, Yeti of the Serengeti. As of a Yeti living in the Serengeti, I have no idea. No evidence proves this. Yeti's are still considered to live in the Himalayas, if not a myth. But if you do believe... why don't you go in search of the Qualum. You might just hear a deafening roar.