Blood Forest (Suspense thriller) (23 page)

22

W
ater trickled through as the last raindrops made their slow descent through the thick canopy. Darkness fell in the jungle. The cloudy sky took on a periwinkle hue with dusk upon them.

The click of a gun’s safety jolted Ike’s nerves. His hands tightened around his rifle. He didn’t have time to raise it before he was staring down the barrel of his own Desert Eagle. Gilles’ intense eyes stared back at him.

The tension lasted only a moment, before the Congolese mercenary relaxed and lowered his weapon.

“Sorry, Ike.”

“No worries, mate,” Ike replied uneasily. “It was an honest mistake.”

“I didn’t hear you coming is all,” Gilles explained.

“Easy. Just relax,” Ike assured him with a pat on the shoulder.

Delani emerged from the jungle behind Ike and the three mercenaries walked to the embankment. Occasional flooding kept this stretch of shoreline from overgrowing and provided a small beach against the stream for the group to relax. Raoul, Brandon, and Nessa sat at the edge of the undergrowth collecting their breath.

Ike crouched beside Nessa. The chemist sat on a thick branch, hunched forward to inspect her leg. The leg of her pants was rolled up to her knee and a tight bloody bandage constricted her calf.

“How y’ holding up, luv?” Ike asked her.

“Not bad, considering,” she replied with a slight grin.

“We’re gonna be crossing the stream soon. How do you feel about that?”

Nessa watched the slow-moving water. A few old logs clogged this particular bend, washed downstream by yearly flooding. “Do you know how many parasites are in there?”

“I’d say quite a few.”

She smiled again, and Ike felt an urge to kiss her. He would have if he weren’t so aware of Delani standing not far behind him. The South African whispered something to Brandon. The poor American was probably worried sick about his wife, still lost somewhere in the jungle, possibly dead.

Ike wondered if Nessa was worried about Alfred. Just in case, he placed a hand on her shoulder. He meant the gesture to be reassuring, but his thumb found the hot skin of her collarbone, just above the collar of her shirt. They shared a look.

“They’re going to expect us to follow the river,” Delani pointed out.

Ike turned from Nessa to face his boss. “Well, there isn’t much we can do about that now, is there? And that’s the problem. They know we have no choice. If we wander into the jungle we’re going to get lost.”

“You think they’re still behind us?” Brandon asked.

“I know they are, mate,” Ike replied with certainty. “For some reason they want us dead. And bad. This means, they either think we’ve got something they want, or they’re trying to cover something up.”

Ike saw a realization flash across Brandon’s face. “These militias are government-backed right? They depend on foreign money to operate, don’t they?”

“That’s right.”

“Well. What if they committed some truly horrible war crimes out here? Rape, cannibalism, genocide.”

“Cannibalism?” Ike scoffed. “I’ve heard stories, but . . .”

“Just listen to me for a second. If stories of those crimes got out; I mean if foreigners like us saw evidence of them, there could be a lot of pressure for those governments to pull out their support.”

“I’m not sure Rwanda and Uganda are all that worried about what the world thinks of them,” Ike argued.

“What about other countries?” Brandon challenged.

“What other countries?” It was all speculation, Ike realized. He’d never known Americans were so paranoid.

“Why they are after us is not a concern,” Delani said. “It doesn’t change the fact that they are.”

“He’s right,” Ike agreed. “We need to be getting out of this mess. We can wonder about it later.”

“Let’s start getting across the river then,” Delani ordered. He gestured for them to get to their feet.

Nessa rose slowly, testing her lower leg before putting her weight on it. “But it won’t matter if we cross the river, will it?”

Delani studied Nessa.

“You already said. They know we’re following the river, because we don’t have a choice,” she continued.

“We could double back and follow it the other way. The stream branches from the pond in other directions.”

“And walk right past them?” Nessa asked doubtfully.

“What do you suggest, Doctor?”

“We can find another terrain feature to follow. If we can find the lowlands, there should be a swamp. We can circle that until we come to the other side of the river.” Nessa turned and pointed to Brandon. “He said he could show us how to get there.”

All eyes turned toward Brandon, who looked up in surprise. “I never saw any swamp.”

“Well, the wetlands,” Nessa said, stepping closer.

Brandon shouldered his pack, while carrying Sam’s. His feet sank in the mud of the riverbank. “I never saw any wetlands. Sam said she did. But . . .”

“But what?”

Brandon took a deep breath. Nessa stood across from him, her expression masked in the dim light of dusk.

“Sam might have made it up,” he admitted with great difficulty.

“Made it up?” Nessa’s jaw dropped. “Why the hell would she do something like that? So we’d help you get your bloody plane? Is that it?”

He moved his mouth as if to speak an apology, but nothing came out.

“Let me see if I’m hearing you right,” Nessa fumed. “You
lied
to Alfred. Lied to us, so we’d come out here with you and help you get your
fucking
plane, is that right? And now there are only six of us left, out of ten. Four of us have been
fucking
killed, when there isn’t even a goddamned swamp out here at all. We came out here to
help
you and now my partner and our guides and
your
lying bitch of a wife are dead!”

“Nessa, please,” Ike whispered stepping closer, ready to get between them.

“Shut up, Ike,” she growled. “I’ve had it up to here with this place. And the flower isn’t even out here. This is just another waste of time, another dead end.”

“Sam isn’t dead,” Brandon replied quietly, a slight tremor in his voice. “You don’t know her. She’s still alive and Alfred is fine. Temba is with them both and they’re going to be okay.”

“You’re insane,” Nessa cried. “Give it up, will you! You saw what happened to the pygmy. That was a
poisoned
arrow. They’re dead. For all we know, Temba was in on it. He leads you all off into the jungle and then disappears?”

“Dr. Singer,” Delani warned. “Please try to keep your voice down. There are still rebels in the forest.”

Nessa’s voice quieted, but she stood rigid and pointed an accusing finger at Brandon. “I hope you realize while we’re all dying, that it was
your
fault this happened. You and your fucking wife.”

Brandon’s face reddened. He was about to respond when something caught his attention. He froze, his eyes locked on the water. Ike followed his gaze to the black stream and the dead logs, half-submerged beneath the surface. Ike was suddenly aware how close to the stream they all stood.

“Dr. Singer,” Brandon whispered.

Nessa looked at him curiously.

“Get away from the water,” he urged.

The closest log sprang to life. Ike nearly choked on his own innards. A flash of reptilian hide exploded from the water, moving onto the muddy shore with lightning speed. Although, long and built low to the ground and with those sleepy lizard eyes, the monster displayed incredible agility. Long razor jaws snapped shut. In one moment, Nessa stood on the shore facing Brandon, and in the next, she was yanked to the ground, chest and face in the mud, thighs clamped tight by a deadly vice.

For half a second Ike stood stunned, unable to react.

Brandon acted a second sooner. He had seen the crocodile in the water. He grabbed Nessa by the arms to pull her away. The crocodile was the stronger and the muscles in its jaws would not open once locked. Stiletto teeth sank into the flesh of Nessa’s thighs, crushing the bones underneath. The creature backpedaled toward the stream, dragging her with it. Brandon held on tight as his knees and feet were dragged through the mud behind him.

Ike dove onto the creature’s shoulders, its body at least twice as long as his. He wrapped both arms around its thick neck, squeezing tight, and planted his feet. The crocodile continued its course to the stream, slowing only slightly. Ike’s boots sliced up mud; the sharp ridges of hide ground into his biceps.

Delani raced around them, boots splashing at the edge of the stream. His pistol came out of its holster and he aimed it down at the crocodile. Ike counted six shots in total, but the animal barely seemed to register the damage. The South African threw his pistol and grabbed the thrashing tail with both arms. It took all his strength combined with Ike’s to keep it from retreating with Nessa in its mouth.

Finding itself trapped, the reptile flailed wildly in an attempt to toss off the men. But Ike had a good enough grip that he could reach forward. He took one of its jaws in each of his hands. He yanked, fighting against its vice-like grip. Nessa screamed in agony, struggling helplessly against the grinding maw.

Gilles slipped out the Desert Eagle, a .50 caliber weapon. He crouched beside the struggling Australian, pistol in both hands. The nozzle pressed between the crocodile’s eyes.

“Let’s see if this gets through,” the Congolese mercenary whispered.

The retort deafened Ike, so close to his ear. Another retort followed. And then another.

Slowly the crocodile stopped flailing. The beast fell limp, legs sprawled in the mud. Its tail whipped one final time. And finally, the muscles of its jaws released. Ike tugged with all his strength. He heard a sick, sucking sound as the teeth pulled out of Nessa’s thighs.

Brandon pulled the chemist away. She lay curled in the mud, a trail of blood behind her, her pants mangled beyond recognition. The flesh underneath was torn into ribbons. She gasped, eyes glazed.

The mercenaries surrounded her. They all had rudimentary experience in first aid, but Ike was Special Forces trained so he took charge. Brandon stood back and watched, Raoul beside him, as the mercenaries fished through their supplies. Ike tried ignoring the amount of blood on her legs. The worst damage was not from the tears in her skin and the blood loss, but from the way the powerful jaws had literally crushed her legs.

Nessa moaned quietly, a cold sweat on her forehead. Her eyes met Ike’s and she whispered something he couldn’t hear.

“Just hold still, luv,” Ike bade her as he unrolled bandages.

The wounds were too high on the thigh for a tourniquet and, besides, such a wrapping would only destroy the leg. His best hope was to apply pressure and bandages and to stop the bleeding. Cool mud seeped through his trousers, contrasting with the hot blood soaking the bandages.

“
Avez-vous entendu cela?
” Raoul asked in a hushed tone.

Delani and Gilles stood slowly, but Ike couldn’t bring himself to turn away from Nessa’s wounds.

“Hear what?” Delani asked.

“I heard it too,” Brandon said.

“What was it?”

“Voices . . .”

Delani paused. “You’re sure you didn’t imagine it?”

“I’m positive,” Brandon replied. “They were speaking Swahili.”

Delani crouched behind Ike. He held his .38 across his lap. With his eyes on Nessa, Ike couldn’t see his face.

“We have to cross the river,” Delani whispered. “Now. I’ll help you carry her.”

Nessa groaned and shook her head. “No.” She propped on her elbows, wincing. Mud matted her brown hair to the side of her face. “I think I can walk on it.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Ike replied.

“There’s no time to argue,” Nessa insisted. “The bone’s intact. I’ll be limping, but I can do it.”

Delani settled the argument by extending a hand to Nessa. The chemist took it firmly and together they rose to their feet. She hobbled once when she first applied pressure, but with a steadying hand on Ike’s shoulder she recovered her balance.

As they headed to the water’s edge, Delani took up a post at the rear. He held his pistol ready and watched the forest, ready to fire when the militia showed their faces. Gilles held Ike’s gun at the ready and led the way into the stream. He waded slowly, feeling each step tentatively with his feet.

Soon the water reached his waist. He looked back to the others and gestured for them to follow.

Raoul stepped in next, his feet splashing lightly. Ike winced at the noise, wondering if the militia soldiers were close enough to hear them.

By the time Gilles reached the opposite embankment, wet to his chest, Raoul was halfway across. Brandon stood on Nessa’s other side, even after she refused his help, as Ike guided her into the stream. Cool water splashed around his ankles, swirling with algae. Ike tried not to think about what hidden dangers lay within the stream.

They heard quiet voices in Swahili. They were coming up the edge of the river. Ike glanced back at the reptilian corpse on the water’s edge, an obvious clue for any trackers.

Nessa whimpered when the cold water hit her thigh. She braced herself against Ike, and he felt her body trembling. He slid an arm around her back and let her lean on him, even as he urged her faster across the river.

Soon the water reached his abdomen. Although the stream flowed sluggishly, the current pushed him and he had to fight to stay on his feet. Something jagged brushed his ankle. A branch, he hoped.

When they reached the opposite bank, the group plunged into the thick undergrowth. It took considerable force to push through the rigid branches, but they soon emerged into the dark forest where they took a moment to catch their breath.

Nessa pressed close to Ike, her lips not far from his ear. “Did you stop the bleeding?” she whispered.

“I think I got most of it,” he replied. In truth, he could tell from looking at her bandages, that water wasn’t the only thing soaking through. The wound needed constant pressure to control the bleeding, but too much pressure could aggravate the damage to her muscle and bone.

Ike pressed the wound on his bicep. He had tied it loosely with a torn bandage.

Tense moments passed while they waited for Delani. But soon enough the scarred mercenary pressed through the leaves. He held up an assault rifle toward Ike. “You forgot something.”

Ike blinked. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d forgotten his gun. He had dropped it when the crocodile attacked Nessa. “Thanks, mate.”