Slayers (Jake Hawkins Book 1) (31 page)

“
Ready?
”
Sam said.

Before Jake could nod, Sam released his forearm and swung round behind the tree. Jake felt that familiar stomach lurch, like the drop of a roller coaster, indicating he was falling forward. He did his best to straighten up and took two giant leaps down the slope, almost hyper-extending his groin in the process. He covered the ten-metre gap in those two steps and pushed off. It was a huge leap. Branches from the surrounding trees whipped at his face as he soared through the air and then the mud rushed up to meet him and he hit it hard, with a wet splash. Brown sludge fountained out in all directions.

He rolled to his feet and stumbled away from the tree line.

The jaguar followed a second later.

It bounded over the bushes and slid to a stop in the mud on all fours.

Run!
Jake
’
s brain screamed. It snarled at him, standing ten paces away, tensed up, ready to pounce. He didn
’
t waste another second. The Napo River beckoned. He pivoted on his heel, launched off the mud, and dived into the water, arms stretched above his head.

Thick green. It was all he could see. The river enveloped him. Its silence was impressive compared to the sound of the rainforest and the roaring of the jaguar and the squelching of his boots through the mud. All the chaos was replaced by nothingness. Instantly cut off. He floated still for a second, savouring the stillness. Then he came up for air.

As his head broke the surface and the water cleared from his eyes he noticed the dive had taken him further away from the bank than anticipated. The jaguar was in mid-air. It was flying at him with the power only a jungle predator could exhibit. It had leapt from the shoreline and its eyes were locked on his.

Jake took a huge breath of air and duck-dived back underwater. Once again, the silence resumed. He bucked until he was upside-down and kicked hard, once, twice, three times. That was all he could manage before there was a great, muffled
whump
from above. The noise encompassed everything, but he saw nothing, for he was staring down into the deep blackness. It was there, though, just above his feet.

Something swiped at his foot, a glancing blow, a paw against his boot. It knocked him off-balance.

A sudden need to get away from this monstrous creature filled his senses.

It was a primal instinct.

And there was only one way to go.

Down.

He kicked hard and fast, his body filled with tension. It didn
’
t feel like he was going anywhere. The bleak green surroundings were the same. But the colour was changing. As he descended, swimming strong, holding his breath, the shade of the surrounding water deepened from green to dark green to black. It was difficult to continue. He had to shut out the rational voice in his head screaming at him to turn around, to cease swimming down into the black abyss.

His hands plunged into thick, grimy mud. He had reached the riverbed. He opened his eyes and concentrated hard. Attempted to pick up any hint of his surroundings. It was impossible. A few slivers of light penetrated down to the depths of the river, just enough to make out the riverbed sloping down into the dark.

He waited it out. The last time he had timed how long he could hold his breath had been almost a year ago. He had lasted just under two minutes. But now he was stressed and panicked, air bubbles escaping from his lips as he floated deep beneath the surface. Through blurry eyes, he saw the rippling surface far above.

There was a shape moving down towards him. A black smudge, that grew bigger and bigger until it was right on top of him.

The jaguar. It had followed him down.

It swiped out. Jake somersaulted back, spiralling around until his legs were over his head. The movement was awkward, clumsy. His arms dragged through the mud. Something hard and round brushed over his fingertips, roughly the size of an egg. Instinctively, he seized it. Whatever it was, he could use it as a weapon. There was a soft
chink
that echoed through the water as he wrenched it out of the riverbed. Something small fell out of the object. Jake raised the egg in front of his face, straining his eyes, begging them to work.

It was some kind of a metal ball, almost archaeological with age. The words
“
F GMENT TION GR NAD
”
were etched into the side.

The jaguar swam for him in slow motion but he didn
’
t care. The reality of the situation dawned on him.

He was holding a fragmentation grenade.

And he had just unintentionally pulled the pin out.

Whether the ancient explosives would work was anyone
’
s guess, but he didn
’
t want to be around to find out.

The jaguar opened its jaws and lunged for him. It was rabid, he deduced. The virus had messed with its brain, just as it had with Koji. He was going to have to outsmart it.

He reached out, pushing his arm through the water, and shoved the grenade down its throat. Not used to being submerged, the jaguar clamped its teeth down a second too late. Jake
’
s hand whisked out from within its maw just before it was severed.

He turned and swam for the surface as fast as humanly possible. He had to get away before the grenade went off. If it did.

The water lightened. He had probably been under for two minutes. He was getting closer to the surface, but his lungs were screaming for air. They were throbbing, pumping, constricting his chest. The tightness had exacerbated to an unbearable magnitude.

He wasn
’
t going to make it.

The pain consumed his whole body.

His arms and legs hurt.

Everything hurt.

Darkness crept in.

He took one last double-footed kick.

Sunlight burst across his vision as he broke the surface and sucked in an enormous lungful of fresh air. The pain lingered for a second before subsiding. He looked out at an almost peaceful scene. The river was lapping gently against the shore. Treetops rustled in the breeze. A certain calmness had settled over everything. Not for long.

Jake was only a few strokes from the bank, but he covered them in an instant. Then he clambered up into the mud and collapsed on his back. There was no movement from the surface of the river. He lay in the mud, panting, soaked from head to toe, hoping beyond hope that the jaguar would stay down at the bottom of the Napo. He had expended the last of his energy.

It surfaced noiselessly. One second there was nothing, the next it rose up from the calm water and padded up onto the bank, only metres in front of Jake. He scrabbled to his feet.

The beast glistened in the sunlight. Water dripped off its bare skin. On television, Jake had seen jaguars shake their fur free of water after a swim. This one didn
’
t have any fur. The slayer virus had turned it into a thick block of muscle. A killing machine. The bruise covering its face throbbed and pulsed like a living thing. Jake had no energy left. He was done. He took an exhausted step back and waited for the end.

The jaguar shot off the mark. All four paws left the ground at once. Its muscles tightened in the air, preparing for a kill.

Then it exploded.

The sound hit Jake first, and then the shockwave. The jaguar was blasted apart from within. There was no fireball, no mushroom cloud, just a short, sharp, eardrum-splitting
bang.
He was hit by a torrent of invisible air. It was like a head-on collision with a truck. There was a momentary flash of colour as he saw the jaguar being blown to pieces, and then he was thrown off his feet and back into the mud.

Indiscernible shapes danced across the sky. Jake didn
’
t know what was happening, but he was glad it was finally over. His vision became a pulsating mass of colour, then faded.

Dragged through the mud. Upended onto a seat. The loud whine of a motor.

He was struggling to keep conscious, but flashes of reality still got through.

“
Come on, kid,
”
a voice said.
“
Snap out of it.
”

His head tapped continuously against the wood he was lying on. The movement brought his vision back. He sat up in a drowse.

For a moment he was confused. He was in a dingy old boat, surrounded by men, heading down a river. Swell from the engine kicked up behind. The trees along the bank flashed past on both sides.

Everything started to make a little more sense. It was an old speedboat that looked like it hadn
’
t been in use for centuries. Rust and grit covered the interior. Felix and Sam were sitting opposite him, on the other thinly-padded wooden bench running along the boat
’
s sides. They were both concentrating hard on their Snowdogs.

He turned to look at the rear of the boat, and noticed that Crank and Thorn had returned. Thorn steered the outboard motor, directing the boat downriver, crouched low. Crank was propped up on the rear bench with a hiking pack covering his right leg.

“
Thought you
’
d never wake up, buddy,
”
Thorn said.

Jake was still drowsy, incoherent.
“
Wha
–
?
”

“
How are you feeling?
”
Felix said, looking concerned.

“
Um
…”
Jake tried to gather his thoughts.
“
Uh, yeah, okay. What
…
what happened?
”

“
You took a big hit, brother,
”
Sam said.
“
We all saw it. Mind explaining why the jaguar blew up in front of you? We
’
re all a little confused.
”

By the time Jake was done recalling what had happened underwater, Sam
’
s eyes were almost bulging out of his head.

“
Jesus Christ,
”
he said to Felix.
“
Do you think it was ours?
”

Felix said,
“
That
’
s impossible.
”

Thorn said,
“
How else would a grenade end up in a riverbed?
”

Crank said nothing. He was white as a ghost.

“
Yours?
”
Jake queried.
“
You mean, from that mission all those years ago?
”

Felix nodded.
“
Archfiend threw all our gear in the river. Surely, it would all have been buried by now, though.
”

“
That
’
s incredible,
”
Jake said. He turned to Crank and Thorn.
“
How did you guys catch up with us?
”

Once again, Crank didn
’
t respond. He simply stared into the distance, shivering. Thorn opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly Jake was overcome by a wave of nausea. He leant over the side of the boat and threw up into the water speeding past. The vomit disappeared from sight.

Thorn cocked his head.
“
You okay, kid?
”

“
Fine. Carry on.
”

“
The jaguar attacked us, first,
”
he said.
“
We
’
d already covered pretty much twice the distance that you guys had. I hear you boys ran into a few sticky situations along the way. Anyway, we were probably a few kilometres inland when it jumped on us. Did you see that big mark on its cheek?
”

Jake nodded.
“
Big bruise. Took up nearly half its face.
”

“
I did that. It attacked Crank, so I punched it in the eye and threw the thing off a cliff we were moving along. That was the last we saw of it.
”

“
You threw it?
”
Jake couldn
’
t believe what it was hearing.
“
How?
”

“
Picked the damn thing up and tossed it.
”

“
That
’
s not possible.
”

“
You haven
’
t seen me angry,
”
Thorn said.
“
When a friend
’
s hurt, I can almost do anything.
”

Jake paused.
“
Who
’
s hurt?
”

Crank, still speechless, bent across and lifted the hiking pack off the bench next to him, revealing what lay underneath.

“
Oh my god,
”
Jake whispered.

Crank
’
s entire lower leg was missing. His pants were tied off in a knot at the knee, and everything below was simply not there. The stump was bulging underneath the khaki material, obviously heavily bandaged, but not enough to stop blood seeping through. It was a grotesque, unnatural sight. The last time Jake had seen him, Crank had been moving with the lithe of an athlete. Now, the life was drained from his eyes.

“
How
…
how did it happen?
”
Jake stammered.

“
Jaguar,
”
Crank managed feebly.
“
Bit it off. Thorn
…
got a tourniquet on it, real fast. Did the job. Lost
…
a lot of blood.
”

“
Oh my god,
”
Jake repeated.

He judged the expressions of the boat
’
s occupants. Thorn stared straight ahead, emotionless, his face blank. Felix and Sam had their heads bowed and were shuffling their feet against the floor of the boat. All three of them knew the inevitable but no-one wished to voice it.

Crank would never hunt slayers again.

“
Sixty seconds,
”
Thorn called.

He was steering the boat through a tributary that branched off from the main river. It was wide and shallow. Jake could see the riverbed just by leaning over the edge. The water was much clearer than the main section of the Napo. Up ahead, the muddy banks morphed into rock plains, plains that spanned almost the entire width of the tributary. The rock was smooth and flat, providing no cover, and ended on both sides with a steep, impenetrable slope crammed with vegetation. The slopes arced up into the rainforest.

“
By the way,
”
Jake said,
“
how did we get a boat?
”

Thorn said,
“
I was carrying Crank down the mountain. Came across a local fishing village. I couldn
’
t communicate with the locals, but it was clear that Crank was in bad shape. They gave us one of their old boats and told us to head upriver, back towards Iquitos. Then we heard the grenade go off.
”

“
Alright, Jake, here
’
s the deal,
”
Felix said.
“
Once we get up that hill,
”
–
he pointed at the slope to their left
–
“
there
’
s nothing more than a short hike through the rainforest between us and the clearing. Crank
’
s going to stay on the boat. Thorn and I will take the lead, and you and Sam will follow right behind us. If anything moves, make sure it
’
s not Wolfe and then shoot it. We have to be on full alert. The GPS says he
’
s still in the clearing.
”

“
The tracker shows that?
”
Jake asked.

Sam nodded.
“
One hundred and ten percent. He hasn
’
t moved in days, man.
”

“
Could he be dead?
”

“
The only way that tracker stays on is if he has a pulse.
”

Jake hefted his Snowdog onto his knees. It felt heavier than usual. He was weak and nauseous from the grenade blast. But right now there was no other option than to follow the team into the clearing. Wolfe
’
s life hung in the balance. Spray kicking up from the motor splashed across his face, doing little to cease his shaking muscles. He was scared.

Thorn killed the engine and pulled the boat up against the rocky plateau. It grated against the side with the harsh screeching of metal. Sam and Felix leapt from their seats down onto dry ground, followed by Thorn who gave Crank a reassuring bump on the shoulder as he jumped out.

Jake cast a glance at Crank as he rose.

“
You look like you
’
ve seen a ghost, kid,
”
Crank said.

“
Nerves.
”

“
At least you
’
re not missing a leg.
”

With that, Jake vaulted over the side of the boat, landing in step behind the other three men. They treaded slowly across the open ground, looking up at the dense rainforest ahead. Jake found himself doing the same. It was impossible to see anything. A hundred slayers could have eyes on them, and they wouldn
’
t have the slightest idea.

He entered a state of hyper-alertness. It happened before every high risk situation. Now, he was learning to roll with it, to use the heightened senses to his advantage, instead of the adrenalin leeching out of him through fear. Every sound was standing out on its own. There was the faint roaring of a waterfall to his right. He glanced across and noticed the tributary ended in a series of rapids. That was where the noise was coming from. There was no escape that way. The only way they were leaving with Wolfe was back the way they had come.

There was a flash of movement near the waterfall, amongst the rocks. Jake squinted.

A crouching figure came into focus. It was stalking along the ground toward them. And it was definitely a slayer. Nothing else was that pale. The figure was slinking in between boulders in an attempt to conceal itself, probably trying to sneak up on them from behind as they pushed into the rainforest.

Jake took off. He dropped his Snowdog to his waist so that it swung from its shoulder strap and pumped his arms laterally to gain more speed. The slayer wouldn
’
t be expecting an assault. He was going to kill it before it knew what was happening.

“
Jake!
”
Felix called after him.

But he wasn
’
t turning back, not now. An ambush was not a desirable outcome.

He rushed over to where he last saw the slayer, traversing water-filled crevices. The rapids grew louder. He rounded the corner and burst out into the middle of the open ground, past the boulders. The Snowdog was now clenched tight between his fingers. All four barrels swept over the space in front of him.

There was nothing. No sign of the slayer. He pivoted, aiming at the water. Nothing hiding there. He swung back around, aiming behind him. No movement. Another ninety degrees, so that he was facing the boulders.

Dead silence.

Jake panted hard, suddenly nauseous. If he had been feeling sick before, it was a hundred times worse now. He was on the verge of fainting, woozy from the heat. He retched.

He took a single step, and slipped. There was a moment of complete terror, as he lost all control. Then he landed hard on his back and the Snowdog skittered away. He watched it drop off the edge of the plateau and into the rapids, where it was carried away by the frothing water.

He swore.

There was no way of recovering the Snowdog. By now it would be long gone, pulled by the current far downstream. Going after it would be a waste of time.

He felt horrible. The sun beat down on his cold, sweating face. His limbs shook. He had no weapon, and he felt dizzy from the fall. The slayer he had spotted was nowhere to be seen. It had never existed.