Blood Forest (Suspense thriller) Page 22

  “There is war and death and sadness in the world outside the forest,” Kitu went on. “This we have known. And for many long years, the forest has protected us, as it should. But now you see them. We hide from the armies that enter the forest.” He held a finger pointed at Temba, his teeth gritted. “You know what has happened to my family.”

  Temba’s gaze fell to Kitu’s feet.

  “We remember that day. We all remember it well,” Kitu snarled, the others nodding. “My sister Ibiza was getting ready to celebrate her elima. When I left her, my mother was speaking to her excitedly about it. Little Ibiza was almost a woman, Temba. She never saw that day. Have you ever returned from a hunt to find everything that mattered to you gone? She was lying on her belly. Her flesh was still burning. I knew what they had done to her. The flames did not hide the signs of her rape. Everything was taken from me—taken forever!

  “How could the forest allow this, Temba? If it were awake, this could not have happened. It is supposed to protect us and shelter us. No song we sang could awaken it. No molimo could bring my sister back. When I remember her, her face to me is the little girl I knew, because I cannot bear to see the young woman who was so defiled. When this man comes—a white man—he says to us that he can awaken the forest. That he can keep out the militias and the Europeans. We do not believe him, because what he says sounds like magic.

  “Look at the forest around you, Temba. It is awake. The animals rise up to kill those who do not belong. They are, no, we are united. The militia fears us! They stay far away from here. If intruders do come, with the entire forest behind us, they cannot win.”

  “Surely you have felt it, Sam.”

  A chill went down her spine.

  “You have seen it in your time in the forest,” Guy went on. “The way the animals behave. The level of aggression—”

  “We saw the okapi.”

  Guy tilted his head.

  “And the baboons.”

  “You have seen it in the animals; and what about the rest, the feeling in your heart? The forest has a rhythm it did not have before. Maybe you don’t notice. You could easily have mistaken it for your imagination. I can certainly see how an outsider would make that kind of mistake. That pulse is new. Surely you have felt it.”

  “There was a ghost.”

  “I’m surprised a scientist like you would believe in ghosts.”

  “How?”

  “You admit you have felt my power.”

  “What do you mean by your power?” Sam asked incredulous.

  Guy nodded.

  “That’s impossible,” she protested.

  “Not impossible, very possible. The forest is mine. When I wish, they rise up and attack. They dance to the rhythm I set. And so, might I add, have you.”

  Despite every doubt about his wild claims, there had to be some explanation for those experiences. Demons, spirits, and ghosts all passed through her mind.

  “How?”

  “Magic.”

  The pain in Kitu’s words was hard for Temba to ignore. Their loss had left them scarred and desperate.

  “Kitu,” Polomo interrupted. “You speak too highly of the white man. He is only a servant like us.”

  “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that the forest is awake now and ready to protect us from the war and the death. The first week that he came to live here, we were scattered and frightened and with no women or families. We had not hunted and the honey season was far off so we had no meat to eat. He called an elephant out of the forest. It came into the clearing and fell asleep before our very eyes. An elephant! You know how much meat that is. Unless you are truly deaf, then you have heard the sounds of the forest when outsiders enter it. Every beast shouts in anger. I can feel that anger, here, in my chest. The whole forest rises up to chase them out. For the first time, Temba, for the first time, the forest is truly awake.”

  Temba looked up at Kitu’s face and the desperation in his eyes. He glanced to Polomo and the others. Not a single Mbuti argued with Kitu’s words. In those words, they found their justification for their worship of this man. Raindrops grew thick and heavy. They fell in slow motion, bursting about Temba’s brow and shoulders. It washed away the sweat and blood. The cold splashes awakened his mind, even after a whole night and a day of running through the jungle.

  “You have gone mad,” he whispered. “Your whole forest is mad. No man commands the jungle. It is higher than us all. Tell me, who is this man that you have made into a god? What does he want with Sam?”

  Kitu looked toward the structures. Temba spotted lantern light through the windows of one of the cottages. He saw shapes moving within. His fists tightened.

  Polomo stepped forward and placed a hand on Temba’s shoulder. “You could join us, Temba. You could come here and live with us. He can provide us with all the food we need. He can protect us from the militias. Out here we can live the lives we were always meant to, without fear.”

  Temba’s eyes met Ndola’s. They were talking about magic. Such things were impossible. This man they were speaking of was a trickster, a charlatan. He had taken advantage of the Mbuti pain and duped them. He turned to Polomo. “Give me Sam. That’s all that I ask. Give me Sam, and I will forgive you for Kuntolo’s death. I will leave this place and never come back.”

  Polomo’s fingers slid off Temba’s shoulder and closed around his spear with a look of regret. “We can’t do that.”

  “Why, because he wants her?” Temba’s back went rigid. His thigh muscles tensed, ready to spring.

  “He won’t be happy when he learns Temba was here,” Ndola pointed out. “No one can know of this place. We know Temba cannot be trusted.”

  “You should leave here,” Polomo said. “If you will not join us, you need to leave now.”

  “I won’t leave without Sam,” Temba answered. “What? Will you kill me like you killed Kuntolo?”

  Polomo hesitated. His palm slid across his forehead. A look passed between Ndola and Polomo. Temba watched Ndola’s hand slide to the small bow at his shoulder.

  Sam scoffed.

  Guy’s grin mocked her.

  “You don’t believe in magic, Sam?” he asked.

  “Are you fucking serious?”

  “‘Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.’ Are you familiar with that statement?”

  She shrugged half-heartedly. He was teasing her, and she was tired of it.

  “Arthur C. Clarke,” Guy clarified. “I wouldn’t have kept you here if you weren’t a scientist. I think I’ve made that quite obvious. But in order to understand the forces at play, you’re going to have to keep a very open mind. And, you’re going to need to be a lot more cooperative. Will you reconsider coming with me now? Have I aroused your curiosity enough?”

  She grimaced. “I’d rather sit here on the floor.”

  The Belgian scowled. “Suit yourself, American,” he hissed and pulled something from his pocket.

  Temba’s heel struck Polomo between the ribs, blasting air from the Mbuti’s lungs. He tumbled to the ground at the feet of his fellows. Temba’s other foot slipped in the mud, and he stumbled, catching himself with one arm before he collapsed.

  Ndola’s bow came up, arrow drawn. Half a dozen spearheads rose with it.

  Temba turned and sprinted. His feet slipped in the mud, but he kept his balance as he ran. An arrow sliced the air near his shoulder. His instinct kicked in, and he pivoted and bolted in the opposite direction.

  The change in direction sent him barreling into a small BaMbuti hut. Wood and leaves splintered under the crashing weight of his body. Mud flung into the air. Temba collapsed amidst the torn boughs to see the others right behind him.

  Kitu came down at him, spear thrusting in an overhead jab. Tangled amid the debr
is, Temba couldn’t get out of the way. The spearhead drove toward his ribs. Temba’s fingertips brushed a wooden shaft to his right. He swung the shaft to block the coming blow. An axe blade hooked around the spearhead and drove it to Temba’s left. Kitu stumbled off-balance, and Temba raised a heel, connecting solidly with the Mbuti’s chest.

  Kitu fell back, gasping for air.

  Temba rolled to his feet, axe still in hand, now held defensively. He squared off against the Mbuti who moved to surround him. As Kitu climbed to his feet, Temba swung the axe to hold his attackers at bay. They kept their distance for the moment, spears held at length.

  Temba found his opening before they encircled him completely. He took off running for the undergrowth at the edge of the clearing. He heard the twang of a bowstring and ducked. The arrow flew overhead and split a low hanging leaf.

  Temba dove into the foliage a moment later. With the undergrowth so thick, he kicked his feet up high, arms extended. He hit the ground headfirst and ducked into a roll. As he came up to his feet, he heard a spear thwack into the brush behind him.

  He remembered his planned escape route and followed it exactly, only pausing for a moment to retrieve his bow and arrows. Temba heard the others shouting at the edge of the clearing. Instead of chasing after him, they stared into the forest with bows and spears ready.

  Temba wondered how many of their arrows were already tipped with lethal poison.

  They’ve all gone mad.

  He didn’t wait to find out if they’d chase him. Surely they’d only wait so long and they were excellent trackers. Temba picked a direction and ran.

  Sam almost expected death. She thought he had gone for a weapon. What he produced confused her even more.

  “When you are ready to cooperate, perhaps I’ll answer your questions,” Guy told her. “Until then, you can refuse my hospitality. But I will leave you this to consider.”

  Tiny scratches at the corners of the familiar pink plastic casing showed how long she had owned it. She had carried it with her through Africa, even though its uses in the wilderness were limited.

  “The battery is long dead. Even if it weren’t, there is no service to speak of in a hundred miles. Take a long look at it. Like me, it holds all the answers you’re looking for.”

  Guy tossed it at her feet and turned away. As he disappeared, Sam watched the cell phone skid to a stop on the rough wooden floor. There it sat, just out of reach.

  22

  Water 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.