Amazonia (30 page)

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Authors: James Rollins

Tags: #Sci-Fi Thriller

BOOK: Amazonia
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"We'll send out a GPS lock on our current position and leave two Rangers as guards. Then a team will evacuate you as soon as a Brazilian supply helicopter with the range to reach camp can be coordinated. In the meantime, the remaining party--the six Rangers and the three of us--will strike out from here."
"When?"
"After a short rest break. We'll leave this afternoon. March until sundown. Now that we're on Clark's trail, a smaller party can travel faster."
Kelly closed her eyes, huffing out a sigh. The plan was sound. And with the contagion spreading here and in the States, time was essential. Besides, if something was found, a scientific research team could always be airlifted to the site to investigate. "I guess I have no choice."
Frank remained silent, cinching his hammock for his short rest break.
A call broke the tension. Olin, busy establishing the satellite uplink, shouted, "We're ready here!"
Kelly followed Frank to the laptop, again protected under a rain tarp.
Olin hunched over the keyboard, tapping rapidly. "Damn it, I'm having trouble getting a solid feed." He continued working. "All this dampness...ah, here we go!" He sat up. "Got it!"
The ex-KGB agent slid to the side. Kelly crouched with Frank. A face formed on the screen, jittering and pixellating out of focus.
"It's the best I can manage," Olin whispered from the side.
It was their father. Even through the interference, his hard face did not look pleased. "I heard about last night," he said as introduction. "It's good to see you're both safe."
Frank nodded. "We're fine. Tired but okay."
"I read the report from the army, but tell me yourselves what happened."
Together Frank and Kelly quickly related the attack by the strange creatures.
"A chimera?" her father said as they finished, eyes narrowed. "A mix of frog and fish?"
"That's what the
biologist
here believes," Kelly said pointedly, glancing to Frank, stressing that even Manny had proven useful to the expedition.
"Then that settles matters," her father said, straightening and staring directly at Kelly. "An hour ago I was contacted by the head of Special Forces out of Fort Bragg and was informed of the revised plan."
"What revised plan?" Zane asked behind them.
Frank waved away his question.
Their father continued, "Considering what's happening with this damn disease, I totally concur with General Korsen. A cure must be found, and time has become a critical factor."
Kelly thought about protesting her expulsion, but bit her lip, knowing she would find no ally in her father. He had not wanted his little girl to come out here in the first place.
Frank leaned closer to the screen. "What's the condition in the States?"
Their father shook his head. "I'll let your mother answer that." He slid aside.
She looked exhausted, her eyes shadowed with fatigue. "The number of cases..." Lauren coughed and cleared her throat. "The number of cases has trebled in the last twelve hours."
Kelly cringed.
So fast...
"Mostly in Florida, but we're now seeing cases in California, Georgia, Alabama, and Missouri."
"What about in Langley?" Kelly asked. "At the Institute?"
A glance was shared between her parents.
"Kelly..." her father began. His tone sounded like Frank's from a moment ago, cautionary. "I don't want you to panic."
Kelly sat up straighter, her heart already climbing into her throat. Don't panic? Did those words
ever
calm someone? "What is it?"
"Jessie's sick--"
The next few words were lost on Kelly. Her vision darkened at the corners. She had been dreading hearing those words since first learning of the contagion.
Jessie's sick...
Her father must have noticed her falling back in her seat, pale and trembling. Frank put his arm around her, holding her.
"Kelly," her father said. "We don't know if it's the disease. It's just a fever, and she's already responding to medications. She was eating ice cream and chattering happily when we came to make this call."
Her mother placed a hand on her father's shoulder, and they exchanged a look. "It's probably not the disease, is it, Lauren?"
Their mother smiled. "I'm sure it's not."
Frank sighed. "Thank God. Is anyone else showing symptoms?"
"Not a one," her father assured them.
But Kelly's eyes were fixed on her mother. Her smile now looked sickly and wan. Her gaze slipped down.
Kelly closed her own eyes.
Oh, God...
"We'll see you soon," her father concluded.
Frank nudged her.
She nodded. "Soon..."
Zane again spoke behind her. "What did your father mean that he'd see you soon? What's this about revised plans? What's going on?"
Frank gave Kelly a final squeeze. "Jessie's fine," he
whispered to her. "You'll see when you get home." He then turned to answer Zane's question.
Kelly remained frozen before the laptop as the arguments began to rage behind her. In her mind's eye, she again saw her mother's smile fade, her eyes lower in shame. She knew her mother's moods better than anyone, possibly even better than her father did. Her mother had been lying. She had seen the knowledge hidden behind the reassuring words.
Jessie had the disease
. Her mother believed it. Kelly knew this with certainty. And if her mother believed it...
Kelly could not stop the tears. Busily arguing about the change in plans, the others failed to notice her.
She covered her face with her hand.
Oh, God...no...
Eleven
Aerial Assault

AUGUST 14, 1:24 P.M.
AMAZON JUNGLE

Nate could not sleep. As he lay in his hammock, he knew he should be resting for the next leg of the journey. In only another hour, his group was due to depart, but questions still persisted. He stared around the campsite. While half the camp napped, the other half were still quietly arguing about the split-up.

"We can just follow them," Zane said. "What are they going to do, shoot us?"
"We should mind their orders," Kouwe said calmly, but Nate knew the older professor was no more pleased with being abandoned than the Tellux rep.
Nate turned his back on them, but he understood their frustration. If he had been one of those left behind, they would've had to hog-tie him to stop him from continuing on his own.
From this new vantage, he spotted Kelly lying in her hammock. She was the only one who had not protested. Her concern for her daughter was clearly foremost in her mind. As he watched, Kelly rolled over and their gazes met. Her eyes were puffy from tears.
Nate gave up trying to nap and slid from his hammock. He crossed to her side and knelt. "Jessie will be fine," he said softly.
Kelly stared at him in silence, then spoke through her pain, her voice small. "She has the disease."
Nate frowned. "Now that's just your fear talking. There's no proof that--"
"I saw it in my mother's eyes. She could never hide anything from me. She knows Jessie has the disease and is trying to spare me."
Nate didn't know what to say. He reached through the netting and rested a hand on her shoulder. He quietly comforted her, willing her strength, then spoke with his heart, softly but earnestly, "If what you say is true, I'll find a cure out there somewhere. I promise."
This earned a tired smile. Her lips moved, but no words came out. Still, Nate read those lips easily.
Thank you
. A single tear rolled from her eyes before she covered her face and turned away.
Nate stood, leaving her to her grief. He noticed Frank and Captain Waxman conferring over a map splayed across the ground and headed toward them. With a glance back at Kelly, he silently repeated his promise.
I will find a cure
.
The map the two were surveying was a topographic study of the terrain. Captain Waxman drew a finger across the map. "Following due west of here, the land elevates as it approaches the Peruvian border. But it's a broken jumble of cliffs and valleys, a veritable maze. It'll be easy to get lost in there."
"We'll have to watch closely for Gerald Clark's sign-posts," Frank said, then looked up to acknowledge Nate's presence. "You should get your pack ready. We're gonna head out shortly and take advantage of as much daylight as we can."
Nate nodded. "I can be ready in five minutes."
Frank stood. "Let's get moving then."
Over the next half hour, the team was assembled. They decided to leave the Rangers' SATCOM radio equipment with the remaining party, who needed to coordinate the retrieval effort by the Brazilian army. The group heading out would continue to use the CIA's satellite array to maintain contact.
Nate hoisted his shotgun to one shoulder and shifted his backpack to a comfortable spot. The plan was to move swiftly, with few rest breaks, until sunset.
Waxman raised an arm and the group headed off into the forest, led by Corporal Warczak.
As they left, Nate looked behind him. He had already said good-bye to his friends, Kouwe and Manny. But behind the pair stood the two Rangers who would act as guards: Corporal Jorgensen and Private Carrera. The woman lifted her weapon in farewell. Nate waved back.
Waxman had originally slated Corporal Graves to remain behind, to be evacuated out, on account of the death of his brother Rodney. But Graves had argued, "Sir, this mission cost my brother's life along with my fellow teammates. With your permission, I'd like to see it through to the end. For the honor of my brother...for all my brothers."
Waxman had consented.
With no further words, the group set off through the jungle. The sun had finally broken through the clouds, creating a steam bath under the damp canopy. Within minutes, everyone's face shone with sweat.
Nate marched beside Frank O'Brien. Every few steps, the man slid off his baseball cap and wiped the trickling dampness from his brow. Nate wore a handkerchief as a headband, keeping the sweat from his own eyes. But he couldn't keep the black flies and gnats, attracted by the salt and odor, from plaguing him.
Despite the heat, humidity, and constant buzzing in their ears, they made good progress. Within a couple of hours, Nathan estimated they had covered over seven miles. Warczak was still finding bootprints in the bare soil as they headed west into the jungle. The prints were barely discernable, pooled with water from yesterday's rains.
Ahead of him marched Corporal Okamoto, whistling his damn tune again. Nate sighed.
Didn't the jungle offer enough aggravations?
As they continued, Nate kept wary watch for any perils: snakes, fire liana, ant trees, anything that might slow them down. Each stream was crossed with caution. But no sign of the piranha-frogs appeared. Overhead, Nate saw a three-toed sloth amble along a branch high in the canopy, oblivious to the intrusion. He watched its passage, glancing over his shoulder as he walked under it. Sloths seemed slow and amiable, but when injured, they were known to gut those who came too close. Their climbing claws were dagger-sharp. But this great beast just continued its arboreal journey.
Turning back around, Nate caught the barest flicker of something reflecting from high in a tree, about half a mile back. He paused to study it.
"What is it?" Frank asked, noticing Nate had stopped.
The flickering reflection vanished. He shook his head. Probably just a wet leaf fluttering in the sunlight. "Nothing," he said and waved Frank on. But throughout the remainder of the afternoon, he kept glancing over his shoulder. He could not escape the feeling that they were being watched, spied upon from on high. The feeling grew worse as the day wore on.
Finally, he turned to Frank. "Something's bothering me. Something we neglected to address after the attack back at the village."
"What?"
"Remember Kouwe's assessment that we were being tracked?"
"Yeah, but he wasn't a hundred percent sure. Just some picked fruit and bushes disturbed during the night. No footprints or anything concrete."
Nate glanced over his shoulder. "Let's say the professor was correct. If so, who's tracking us? It couldn't have been the Indians at the village. They were dead before we even entered the jungle. So who was it?"
Frank noticed the direction of Nate's stare. "You think we're still being tracked. Did you see something?"
"No, not really...just an odd reflection in the trees a while back. It's probably nothing."
Frank nodded. "All the same, I'll let Captain Waxman know. It wouldn't hurt to be on extra guard out here." Frank dropped back to speak with the Rangers' leader, who was marching with Olin Pasternak.
Alone, Nate stared into the shadowy forest around him. He was suddenly less sure that leaving the others behind was such a wise move.

5:12 P.M.

Manny ran a brush through Tor-tor's coat. Not that the bit of hygiene was necessary. The jaguar did a good enough job with his own bristled tongue. But it was a chore that both cat and human enjoyed. Tor-tor responded with a slow growl as Manny groomed the cat's belly. Manny wanted to growl himself, but not in contentment and pleasure.

He hated being left behind by the others.
Hearing a rustle at his side, Manny glanced up. It was the anthropologist, Anna Fong. "May I?" She pointed to the jaguar.

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