Amazonia (33 page)

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Authors: James Rollins

Tags: #Sci-Fi Thriller

BOOK: Amazonia
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The smoke was choking and cloying, but the insects held back. The locusts had not dispersed. The swarm still whined and whirred overhead in a dark cloud. Occasional bombers would dive toward them and away, chased off by the fire's smoke.
"How did you know the smoke would work?" Jorgensen asked.
"I didn't. At least not for sure." Kouwe panted slightly and continued to waft his palm frond as he explained. "The flaming Ban-ali symbol in the jungle...the amount of smoke and the strong scent of it. I thought it might be some sort of signal."
"A smoke signal?" Zane asked.
"No, more of a
scent
signal," Kouwe said. "Something in the smoke drew the locusts here specifically."
Manny grunted at this idea. "Like a pheromone or something."
"Perhaps. And once here, the little bastards were bred to lay waste to anything in the area."
"So what you're saying is that we were marked for death," Anna commented. "The locusts were sent here on purpose."
Kouwe nodded. "The same could be true with the piranha creatures. Something must have drawn them specifically to the village, maybe another scent trace, something dribbled in the water that guided them to the
shabano
." He shook his head. "I don't know for sure. But for a second time, the Ban-ali have called the jungle down upon us."
"What are we going to do?" Zane asked. "Will the powder last till dawn?"
"No." Kouwe glanced to the dark swarm around them.

8:05 P.M.

Nate was tired of arguing. He, Captain Waxman, and Frank were still in the midst of a debate that had been going on for the past fifteen minutes. "We have to go back and investigate," he insisted. "At least send one person to check on the others. He can be there and back before dawn."

Waxman sighed. "They were only locusts, Dr. Rand. They passed over us with no harm. What makes you think the others are at risk?"
Nate frowned. "I have no proof. Just my gut instinct. But I've lived all my life in these jungles and something was unnatural about the way those locusts were swarming."
Frank initially had been on Nate's side, but slowly he had warmed to the Ranger's logic of wait-and-see. "I think we should consider Captain Waxman's plan. First thing tomorrow morning, when the satellites are overhead, we can relay a message to the others and make sure they're okay."
"Besides," Waxman added, "now that we're down to six Rangers, I'm not about to risk a pair on this futile mission--not without some sign of real trouble."
"I'll go myself." Nate balled a fist in frustration.
"I won't allow it." Waxman shook his head. "You're just jumping at shadows, Dr. Rand. In the morning, you'll see they're okay."
Nate's mind spun, trying to find some way past the captain's obstinate attitude. "Then at least let me head out with a radio. See if I can get close enough to contact someone over there. What's the range on your personal radios?"
"Six or seven miles."
"And we traveled roughly fifteen miles. That means I
would only have to hike back eight miles to be within radio range of the others. I could be back before midnight."
Waxman frowned.
Frank moved a step closer to Nathan. "Still...it's not a totally foolhardy plan, Captain. In fact, it's a reasonable compromise."
Nate recognized the pained set to Frank's eyes. It was his sister out there. So far the man had been balancing between fear for his sister and Waxman's reasonable caution, trying his best to be a logical operations leader while reining in his own concern.
"I'm sure the others
are
okay," Nate pressed. "But it doesn't hurt to be a little extra wary...especially after the last couple of days."
Frank was now nodding.
"Let me take a radio," Nate urged.
Waxman puffed out an exasperated breath and conceded. "But you're not going alone."
Nate bit back a shout.
Finally...
"I'll send one of the Rangers with you. I won't risk two of my men."
"Good...good." Frank seemed almost to sag with relief. He turned to Nate, a look of gratitude in his eyes.
Captain Waxman turned. "Corporal Warczak! Front and center!"

8:23 P.M.

Manny and the others stood by the fire, smoke billowing around them. The pall from the powder kept the locusts in check. All around, the swarm swirled, a black cocoon, holding them trapped. Manny's eyes stung as he studied the flames. How long would the professor's
tok-tok
powder last? Already the smoke seemed less dense.

"Here!" Kelly said behind him. She passed him a two-foot length of bamboo from the pile of tinder beside the fire, then returned to work, kneeling with Professor Kouwe. The Indian shaman was packing a final piece of bamboo with a plug of
tok-tok
powder.
Manny shifted his feet nervously. The professor's plan was based on too many assumptions for his liking.
Finished with the last stick of bamboo, Kelly and Kouwe stood. Manny stared around the fire. Everyone had packs in place and was holding a short length of bamboo, like his own.
"Okay," Jorgensen said. "Ready?"
No one answered. Everyone's eyes reflected the same mix of panic and fear.
Jorgensen nodded. "Light the torches."
As a unit, each member reached and dipped the ends of their bamboo in the bonfire's flames. The powder ignited along with the dry wood. As they pulled the bamboo free, smoke wafted in thick curls up from their makeshift torches.
"Keep them close, but held aloft," Kouwe instructed, demonstrating with his own torch. "We must move quickly."
Manny swallowed. He eyed the whirring wall of locusts. He had been bitten only twice. But the wounds still ached. Tor-tor kept close to his side, rubbing against him, sensing the fear in the air.
"Keep together," Kouwe hissed as they began to walk away from the sheltering fire and toward the waiting swarm.
The plan was to use the tiki torches primed with
tok-tok
powder to breach the swarm while holding the locusts at bay. Under this veil of smoky protection, the team would attempt to flee the area. As Kouwe had explained earlier, "The locusts were drawn specifically
here
by the scent
from the burning Ban-ali symbol. If we get far enough away from this specific area, we might escape them."
It was a risky plan, but they didn't have much choice. The shaman's supply of powder was meager. It would not keep the bonfire smoking for more than another hour or two. And the locusts seemed determined to remain in the area. So it was up to them--they would have to vacate the region.
"C'mon, Tor-tor." Manny followed after Corporal Jorgensen. Behind and to the side, the group moved in a tight cluster, torches held high. Manny's ears were full of the swarm's drone. As he walked, he prayed Kouwe's assumptions were sound.
No one spoke...no one even breathed. The group trod slowly forward, heading west, in the direction the other team had taken. It was their only hope. Manny glanced behind him. The comforting light of their bonfire was now a weak glow as the swarm closed in behind them.
Underfoot, Manny crushed straggling locusts on the ground.
Silently, the group marched into the forest. After several minutes, there was still no end to the cloud of insects. The team remained surrounded on all sides. Locusts were everywhere: buzzing through the air, coating the trunks of trees, scrabbling through the underbrush. Only the smoke kept them away.
Manny felt something vibrating on his pantleg. He glanced down and used his free hand to swat the locust away. The bugs were getting bolder.
"We should be through them by now," Kouwe muttered.
"I think they're following us," Anna said.
Kouwe slowed, and his eyes narrowed. "I believe you're right."
"What are we going to do?" Zane hissed. "These
torches aren't gonna last much longer. Maybe if we ran. Maybe we could--"
"Quiet...let me think!" Kouwe scolded. He stared at the swarm and mumbled. "Why are they following us? Why aren't they staying where they were summoned?"
Carrera spoke softly at the rear of the group. She held her torch high. "Maybe they're like those piranha creatures. Once drawn here, they caught
our
scent. They'll follow us now until one or the other of us is destroyed."
Manny had a sudden idea. "Then why don't we do what the Ban-ali do?"
"What do you mean?" Kelly asked.
"Give the buggers something more interesting than our blood to swarm after."
"Like what?"
"The same scent that drew the locusts here in the first place." Words tumbled from Manny in his excitement. He pictured the flaming symbol of the Blood Jaguars. "Corporal Jorgensen and I doused the flames that produced the smoky pheromone or whatever--but the fuel is still there! Out in the forest." He pointed his arm.
Jorgensen nodded. "Manny's right. If we could relight it..."
Kouwe brightened. "Then the fresh smoke would draw the swarm away from us, keep it here while we ran off."
"Exactly," Manny said.
"Let's do it," Zane said. "What are we waiting for?"
Jorgensen stepped in front. "With our torches burning low, time is limited. There's no reason to risk all of us going back."
"What are you saying?" Manny asked.
Jorgensen pointed. "You all continue on the trail after the others. I'll backtrack and light the fire on my own."
Manny stepped forward. "I'll go with you."
"No. I won't risk a civilian." Jorgensen backed away. "And besides, I can travel faster on my own."
"But--"
"We're wasting time and powder," the corporal barked. He turned to his fellow Ranger. "Carrera, get everyone away from here. Double time. I'll join up with you after I've lit the motherfucker."
"Yes, sir."
With a final nod, Jorgensen turned and began to trot back toward the camp, torch held high. In moments, his form was swallowed away as he dove through the swarm. Just the bobbing light of his torch illuminated his progress, then even that vanished amid the dense mass of swirling insects.
"Move out!" Carrera said.
The group turned and once again headed down the trail. Manny prayed the corporal succeeded. With a final glance behind him, Manny followed the others.

Jorgensen rushed through the swarm. With only his single torch protecting him, the swarm grew tighter. He was stung a few times by bolder bugs, but he ignored the discomfort. A Ranger went through vigorous training programs across a multitude of terrains: mountains, jungles, swamps, snow, desert.

But never this...never a goddamn cloud of carnivorous bugs!
With his weapon on his shoulder, he shrugged his pack higher on his back, both to make it easier to run and to shield him from the swarm overhead.
Though he should have been panicked, an odd surge of zeal fired his blood. This was why he had volunteered for the Rangers, to test his mettle and to experience balls-out action. How many farm boys from the backwaters of Minnesota had a chance to do this?
He thrust his torch forward and forged ahead. "Fuck you!" he yelled at the locusts.
Focusing on the abandoned campfire as a beacon, Jorgensen
worked across the dizzying landscape of whirling bugs. Smoke from his torch wafted around him, redolent with the burning powder. He circled around the Brazil nut tree and headed toward where the Ban-ali's burning signature had been set in the forest.
Half blind, he ran past the site before realizing it and doubled back. He fell to his knees beside the spot. "Thank God."
Jorgensen planted his torch in the soft loam, then leaned over and swept free the dirt and scrabbling bugs from the buried resinous compound. Locusts lay thick over this site. Several bites stung his hand as he brushed them away. Leaning close, the residual fumes from the oil filled his nostrils, bitter and sharp. The professor was right. It certainly attracted the buggers.
Working quickly, Jorgensen continued to uncover the original marker. He didn't know how much of the black oil should be lit to keep the swarm's attention here, but he wasn't taking any chances. He didn't want to have to return a second time. Crawling on his knees, his hands sticky with the black resin, he worked around the site. He soon had at least half of the serpentine pattern exposed.
Satisfied, he sat back, pulled free a butane lighter, and flicked a flame. He lowered the lighter to the oil. "C'mon...burn, baby."
His wish was granted. The oil caught fire, flames racing down the twists and curls of the exposed symbol. In fact, the ignition was so fiercely combustible that the first flames caught him off guard, burning his fingers.
Jorgensen dropped the lighter and pulled his hand away, his fingers on fire. "Shit!" The smattering of sticky oil on his hand had caught the flames.
"Shit!"
He rolled to the side and shoved his hands into the loose dirt to stanch the fire. As he did so, his elbow accidentally struck the planted bamboo torch, knocking it into a nearby bush, casting embers in a fiery arc. Jorgensen
swore and snatched at the torch--but he was too late. The powder stored in the hollow top of the bamboo had scattered into the dirt and bush, sizzling out. The top of the torch still glowed crimson, but it was no longer smoking.
Jorgensen sprang to his feet.
Behind him, the symbol of the Ban-ali flamed brightly, calling the swarm to its meal.
"Oh, God!"

Kelly heard the first scream, a horrible sound that froze everyone in place.

"Jorgensen..." Private Carrera said, swinging around.

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