Blood Forest (Suspense thriller) Page 26

A wall of brush rose up before him and he pushed through. He didn’t feel the slapping branches or even the thin trunk ripping across his shin, drawing blood. As lightning flashed, the clearing shone bright before him. His eyes fell upon the twisting bark of a great tree, rising high up in the canopy. He barely recognized it in the darkness until a black form rose up to his right.

  The leopard stopped at the wall of brush, its hair standing on end, shoulders hunched. Not just one baboon, but three of the beasts encircled the leopard, closing the gap. The animals squared off, angry.

  26

  If you want me to cooperate, you need to take me to see Alfred.”

  Sam drank from a bowl of stew. It occurred to her that Guy might try to drug her, but she needed to eat and drink. When she finished the bowl, she placed it on the wooden floor in front of her. She didn’t struggle as Bokenga tied her wrists.

  Guy studied her with those same penetrating eyes. “I gain nothing from doing you any favors, Samantha.”

  “Please, I just want to talk to him so I know that he’s okay,” she pleaded.

  “I’m afraid that’s impossible,” Guy insisted. “If you want me to do you favors, you’re going to have to show me you’re willing to cooperate first.”

  She considered that for a moment. “Okay. I just have one little thing to ask then.”

  “What’s that?”

  In her sweetest voice, she cajoled, “Please, please, call me Sam.”

  He smiled. “My apologies, Sam.”

  She almost couldn’t believe her own tone. She had done it on purpose in a sudden shift in tactics. Maybe she could sweeten him up into giving her what she wanted. It was hard to tell who was manipulating whom. She barely trusted herself to know the difference.

  Still, she needed to get him to trust her. “It’s just that nobody calls me Samantha, except my mother did sometimes, usually when she was mad at me for something.”

  “You’re not in touch with your mother?”

  She shook her head. “We had a falling out.”

  He leaned forward, interested. “What was it about?”

  “Well, a lot of things I guess. I think it really reached its peak when I decided to go into modeling.”

  Guy paused, looking her over. She could tell from the look in his eyes that this new information surprised him. Good, she thought.

  “Oh that’s right,” she laughed sheepishly. “I’m not a chemist. I don’t work for Alfred’s company. I’m not any kind of scientist at all.”

  Guy’s face darkened at the news and for a moment she feared her sharing would have the opposite effect from what she intended.

  “But my sister studied psychology,” she added hopefully. “She stopped after she got her Master’s. She works as a school counselor now.”

  Guy smiled condescendingly, his mood changing entirely. Sam got the impression her value had suddenly dropped in his eyes. The fact that he had believed she was a scientist told her a lot about his hopes and expectations. He had liked her, because he thought her pretty, smart, and independent. Now a model instead of a chemist, she was only pretty.

  Guy let Sam follow him outside to the cluster of BaMbuti huts. There he spoke with several Mbuti men, many Sam recognized from before. She noticed them looking at her, particularly at her bruised face. Some showed guilt, but others gave nothing away. She wondered if Guy hadn’t purposely set the Mbuti up as villains so he could play into a twisted good cop persona when he came to her rescue the night before. She didn’t doubt it. Everything seemed like a game of manipulation now.

  She kept talking. Before she had withheld everything, now she let it all out. The only subject she stayed away from was Brandon. It would make Guy happy, she decided, to think that she had forgotten him, even if her captor was decidedly less interested in her than before.

  “You speak their language very well,” Sam noted after watching a brief exchange.

  “It is not too different from the local Bantu tongues,” Guy pointed out. “They have a very specific tonal quality to their accent that could throw off an amateur.”

  “It sounds like they’re singing.”

  “Perhaps a little, yes.”

  “Guy.”

  He turned to face her again.

  “Do you think I could see Alfred today?” she asked. She bit her lip shyly, letting him know that she was truly asking and not demanding. “I really just want to know if he’s okay. I feel so bad thinking about him without his glasses and his arm. I just want to see him once. And then I promise I’ll shut up about it.”

  “I should have known you weren’t a scientist before,” Guy said as he unlocked the bolts on the door. Each lock made a metallic clunk as they came open. Sam noted the key he used, memorizing it.

  “Why’s that?” she asked, watching as he slipped the key ring into his trouser pocket.

  He turned a smile at her and cupped her shoulder with one hand. “The comments you made last night. They were a little . . .”

  Not resisting his touch, Sam tilted her head curiously. “A little what?”

  “Naïf.”

  She didn’t know how to respond to the small insult. She knew that her reaction was important if she was going to keep the upper hand with him. She finally decided on feigning mild annoyance. He’d expect that much at least.

  “I don’t mean to offend you, Sam. I would expect that sort of reaction from a layman, especially one as young as you.”

  She had to bite her retort this time. She saw the way he studied her and wondered if his last statement hadn’t been some sort of test. Guy had to be in his late thirties at the most. After a moment, she forced a smile. “Twenty-six isn’t that young.”

  “There was a time when I would have agreed with you,” he replied, finally pulling the heavy door open. “Actually, I’m surprised how young twenty-six seems to me right now.”

  He stepped into the dark room, pulling Sam in right behind him. She couldn’t see a thing until he flicked a light switch and a pair of light bulbs on the ceiling sparked to life. Behind them, Kitu followed. As Sam studied the room, Kitu did as well.

  The walls were the same stone as outside with no insulation. Thick planks layered the floor. A shoddy wooden table sat in one corner topped with a control panel adorned with dials and gauges. Cords extended into the ceiling and toward the large generator that dominated the room. A few spare jugs of gasoline sat in the corner to her left. She didn’t miss the significance. Guy needed to travel to refill his fuel supply, which meant that he had some way in and out of the jungle.

  As Sam wondered about that, movement from the far corner caught her eye. A figure, draped in shadow, shifted and sat up slowly. He raised his good hand over his brow and squinted at them, a heavy chain dangling from his wrist. The chain connected him to the wall, limiting him to the small wooden chair he sat in.

  “Alfred,” Sam called.

  Practically blind without his glasses, Alfred almost jumped out of the chair at the sound of her voice. “Sam!”

  She turned to Guy. “Can I go talk to him?”

  He gave a quick nod.

  She walked timidly across the room, surprised when Guy waited by the door with Kitu.

  Alfred started to stand, but Sam shushed him and pushed him back down into his seat.

  “How are you, Sam? Is he treating you okay? Are you hurt?”

  She wrapped Alfred in a slow hug, lingering about his shoulders. “I’m okay,” she said quietly.

  “He hasn’t . . . hurt you, has he?”

  “It’s nothing I can’t handle,” she promised.

  The chemist trembled under her touch. “Has he told you what he’s doing here? Has he told you about the experiment?”

  “No, he hasn’t. What’s going on?”

  “Oh God,
he has to be stopped, Sam. He can’t be allowed to pursue this technology. His grandfather started these experiments decades ago, when this was the Belgian Congo. Then it was abandoned and left. He found it here, and he’s started the experiments up again.”

  “What kind of experiments?”

  “Insane experiments, it’s what we’ve witnessed the whole time we were here. I should’ve known because of the buzzing. It’s so obvious. Do you remember where you’ve heard that sound before? Maybe not, some people are more attuned to it than others.”

  Kitu shifted closer and Alfred’s voice became higher pitched as he spoke faster.

  “He can do this anywhere. Not just in a jungle. He could do it to a city block or a whole city. If he perfects it—if he keeps improving it like he has—do you know what we’re dealing with?”

  “What?”

  “We’re dealing with mind control here. It is sick.”

  “Mind control?”

  “He uses the river as his sounding board. This power plant is what fuels it.”

  “Sam,” Guy called. When she looked over, he gestured for her to come over to him.

  “Just a minute,” she answered back, her sweetness gone.

  Alfred’s voice fell to far less than a whisper. “I have a lighter I managed to keep with me. I can destroy the generator, but I’ll need time. He comes in and out of here all day and most of the night. I need to be sure he’ll be preoccupied.”

  She took a deep breath. “I have an idea how I can do that.”

  “Good. When I do it, it’ll be loud. He’ll probably come quickly. Be in a position to escape when it happens.”

  An idea formulated in her mind. She remembered the notes that Guy said he kept in his bedroom. She’d have to eliminate those, too.

  “Enough, Sam,” Guy ordered. When she didn’t respond, he nodded to Kitu.

  The Mbuti warrior nodded and crossed the room.

  “One more thing—Temba’s in the forest. I think he’s in trouble.”

  “Temba?”

  As Kitu grabbed Sam by the shoulders, he paused at the mention of the Mbuti name. He glanced back and forth between Sam and Alfred curiously.

  “Tonight,” she whispered. Her mind searched for some way they could both tell time without watches or clocks. “After the rain stops, give me half an hour.”

  Alfred nodded.

  She stepped away and let Kitu pull her back to Guy. She saw the suspicious look in her captor’s eyes, and without thinking she wrapped him in a hug. He stood shocked for several seconds, before his palm came up to touch her back.

  “Merci beaucoup, Guy,” she whispered. Still using French, she added: “I needed that.”

  27

  A shaft of light hit Ike’s eyes and they fluttered open. The tent flap hung open where Delani’s head peeked in.

  “Sorry, mate, must have dozed.”

  Ike started moving, wondering how long he’d been out, when Nessa’s head rolled off his shoulder. She sagged to the tent floor, her neck limp. Ike caught the motion and the meaning of it froze him in place. All the events of the previous night came back, every last detail.

  They had fallen asleep together. But only Ike had awakened.

  Delani noticed the way Nessa’s body slumped as well. Instead of scolding Ike for falling asleep on his watch, he said nothing and ducked out of the tent.

  Ike crawled over Nessa, her body already cool to the touch, and gently rolled her head back so she lay in what looked like a comfortable position. She had died asleep and, as a result, looked far more peaceful than many of the corpses he had encountered. He pressed his face against hers, feeling her cold, clammy cheek.

  Only then did he remember the ring. In a panic, he dug his hands into the blankets, searching frantically until his fingers closed around it. He looked at Nessa, still and lifeless, then down at the sparkling ring and slipped it into his pocket.

  Brandon bit into his stale granola bar and yanked it back and forth until the stubborn thing broke apart. He ground the remaining chunks between his teeth. He had found the bar in Sam’s pack and decided it would make a good breakfast.

  Raoul stood nearby, jiggling a small flask, a sour expression on his face. When he saw Brandon watching him, he said something in French and shook his head. Brandon could only smile helplessly.

  Delani hurried over suddenly. He kicked Gilles awake and turned to address the three of them. “We need to get moving. Daylight’s burning.”

  “Is Dr. Singer going to be able to walk okay?” Brandon asked.

  Delani hesitated. “Dr. Singer is dead.”

  The words hit Brandon hard. He saw a similar look on Gilles’ face as the Congolese mercenary rose to his haunches.

  “We’re leaving this forest right away,” Delani went on. “With Singer dead and Tabibu gone, we have no business here anymore.”

  Gilles let out a relieved sigh and rose to his feet. He and Delani began rolling up their belongings.

  Meanwhile, Brandon felt the ground slipping out from under him. They were just going to leave? “Wait a second,” he said, addressing Delani.

  The South African stood up, coming eye-to-eye with him.

  “What about Sam?”

  Delani stooped to retrieve his pack from the ground. He slung the heavy thing over his shoulder.

  “I’ll pay you,” he said quickly. “You don’t have business here, right? Well, I’ll pay you. How much does it cost to hire you?”

  “No amount of money will convince me to stay here.”

  Brandon looked to Gilles for support, but the mercenary only avoided his gaze. Raoul watched nearby, but the Frenchman couldn’t offer any help.

  Ike emerged from the tent. He straightened his clothes and rubbed his hands over his face, before shouldering the assault rifle and joining them. Brandon did not miss his sunken expression.

  “We ready to head out?” Ike asked.

  “Almost.”

  “Good,” he replied. “I might need some help with the tent.”

  “Gilles and I will get it,” Delani assured him.

  The two Africans strode past him. Gilles clapped a hand over Ike’s shoulder. His visage remained stern.

  Brandon collected his belongings—his and Sam’s. Raoul came over to help, humming a quiet tune as he worked. Ike moved to the perimeter of the camp and stared in the direction of the river.

  Once his things were secure, Brandon went to stand behind the Australian. “Delani wants to leave right away.”

  “That sounds like a smart idea to me,” Ike replied without turning.

  “Sam and Alfred could still be out there.”

  Ike strode through the undergrowth suddenly. Brandon followed.

  Ike crouched when he reached the river. At first his eyes looked across the stream, scanning the jungle for militia soldiers. They fell to the wavering water, becoming lost in the sun’s reflection, much as Sam had done so many days before.

  Brandon inhaled sharply at the thought of his wife and opened his mouth to speak. The Australian’s hand slipped into his pocket and produced a sparkling item.

  “Where’d you get that?”

  “She gave it to me,” Ike said defensively. “I didn’t steal it.”

  “I didn’t mean . . .” he trailed. He studied the mercenary’s distant gaze for a moment. “Did you love her?”

  Ike looked over, surprised by the question. His eyes went right through Brandon then fell again to the ring, which he rolled in his palm. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “That’s really hard to say right now. It sure as hell feels like I did, but that’s just . . .”

  “Then say you did,” Brandon told him. “And don’t ever forget it.”

  After a moment, Ike gave a small nod. They sat
in silence, listening to the trickle of the stream. He wanted to give Ike a few minutes. The Australian had been through a lot. But Brandon’s patience was slipping.

  “Sam and Alfred are still out there. You guys can’t just give up now,” he finally said. “I’d be willing to pay you to stay.”

  “We can’t do that now,” Ike replied. “We’re outnumbered. There’s no way we can fight all of them.” He stood up and turned from the river. “Look. You think she’s alive out there, right? And Temba’s with her?”

  Brandon nodded.

  “Then you got to trust in the fact that they’re gonna find their way back to the village. Where else would they go?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “The best we can do is to meet them there. It beats searching around in this jungle and getting ourselves lost too, doesn’t it?”

  He shrugged. Ike had a point. Alfred, Temba and Sam wouldn’t pointlessly scour the forest looking for Brandon and the mercenaries. They would make their way back to Raoul’s village.

  “C’mon. Don’t give up yet,” Ike said walking back to camp.

  Delani, Gilles, and Raoul had collected their belongings. The tent and bedrolls rested in one corner of the encampment and, not far away, Nessa’s body rested wrapped in a bedroll.

  The first thing Ike said when he entered the clearing was, “I’m not leaving her behind.”

  “I thought so,” Delani replied. “We’re leaving the tent and all of the bedrolls. The American is going to leave his wife’s pack behind if he wants to come with us. Or he can carry it himself, but we’re not waiting up for him. You can carry the body.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Brandon didn’t respond. He was beginning to see how things would proceed. To Delani, their contract had expired. Raoul and Brandon could tag along, but only if they didn’t slow the mercenary company down. Brandon studied the Frenchman, wishing they could communicate. He seemed to be the only ally he had left.