The Jungle Warrior (6 page)

Tarzan was in no fit state to confront the intruders, but his curiosity got the better of him. He carefully pushed through the foliage toward the sound. There he found a man, alone, and judging by the sound of his ragged breathing, he was injured. As Tarzan crept silently closer, he pictured the situation ahead just by listening to different sounds. The man was afraid, mumbling under his breath. Cold steel clicked and clacked as he fumbled to reload a rifle. But what was he afraid of?

Only when he was a few feet away did Tarzan pick out the subtle movement of branches and a familiar low growl. His old foe, Sabor, was hunting in the highlands again.

Tarzan had defeated the young lioness once before in a terrible tussle by using his vine rope to choke her as he slashed her flanks with his knife. If she chose to fight again today, when he was already injured, then he would undoubtedly die. Tarzan was not afraid of death, that was the way of the world, but he had no desire for it so soon. There was still too much for him to explore and discover. Death could wait.

Tarzan positioned himself at a good vantage point to watch as the lioness circled the man, who was slumped across a log. The rifle in his hands was shaking so badly that the ammunition was scattered on the floor. He groped for the cartridges, but his fingers seemed unable to grip properly. Tarzan could now see why. Sabor had taken a bite from his left upper arm. The man's sleeve was soaked in blood and its smell was enticing the beast to attack again.

The lioness crouched ready to spring. Her hindquarters twitched in anticipation. The man's death was imminent.

Tarzan roared as loud as he could, beating his chest with his good hand. He bounded from the tree and landed between the man and the animal. In his weak condition, Tarzan almost passed out from the effort. Concentrating hard, he unsheathed his knife so Sabor could get a good look at it and snapped his vine rope like a whip.

The lioness roared with fury at being denied an easy meal. Tarzan didn't flinch as the animal's warm, meaty breath washed over him. Instead he stood tall and swept the blade through the air. Sabor was stubborn, but not stupid. With a snarl she retreated into the foliage as fast as she could.

Tarzan's head was swimming as he turned to face the man. Ordinarily he would not bother to save any of the hunters he encountered in the jungle, but there was something about this man that was different. His clothing was a patchwork of greens that made him blend into his surroundings; the only splash of color was his bright blue beret. The man's mouth hung open in a look of utter astonishment, an expression that Tarzan would never forget. It made him laugh every time he recalled it. That was how he always remembered D'Arnot.

D'Arnot would never forget the boy who appeared from the jungle and frightened off a hungry lion, then turned to look at him and laughed as if nothing had happened.

In the following weeks, Tarzan nursed himself and D'Arnot back to full health. The man was older and took longer to recover but, when he was able to walk properly, Tarzan took him back to his ape family.

Kerchak greeted them both with a hostile territorial display. It was the first time the silverback had seen Tarzan since their fight. Tarzan gave no sign of fear but kept low and stared at the ground, motioning for D'Arnot to do the same. It was a sign of subordination so Kerchak begrudgingly left them alone and D'Arnot could roam freely across the plateau. His astonishment at being amongst wild mountain gorillas, and effectively welcomed into their band, was overshadowed when he saw the aircraft concealed by the jungle. He had hundreds of questions—none of which Tarzan could answer, so in the months that followed, D'Arnot patiently taught Tarzan how to speak. Based on what he found in the aircraft, he'd concluded the boy was from England, so they learned English, but he would have preferred to teach him his native, more elegant French.

Tarzan picked up English quickly and even taught D'Arnot some Swahili words he had learned from shadowing hunting parties and loggers through the jungle. The Frenchman was fascinated to discover that Tarzan had developed his own language and often pointed out animals on their frequent treks for food:
gimla
, the crocodile;
manu
, the monkey;
lano
, for the annoying mosquitoes.

After a couple of months, they were able to have lengthy and coherent conversations. The Frenchman marveled at Tarzan's intellect but was often on the receiving end of the boy's short temper when he failed to find the correct word to communicate.

D'Arnot followed the band of gorillas as they migrated around the huge mountain in search of new pastures, eventually coming back to the plateau after many months. In that time, the Frenchman made no attempt to leave the jungle. He often asked Tarzan what he remembered of his past, particularly his family, but as far as the boy was concerned, the ape Kala was his mother. Tarzan was more interested in learning about D'Arnot.

“Why you here?” he would ask.

“I was part of a United Nations peacekeeping force in this country. We call it the Democratic Republic of Congo. We came here to monitor the peace efforts after the second Congo war and then we were assigned to watch over the Ituri conflict.” The names were unusual to Tarzan, but over the last few months he had gauged some idea of what the world was like beyond the jungle. “I was on patrol with my unit when we were attacked by Lendu soldiers who had fled into the jungle. I was the only survivor. When Sabor attacked . . . I was a dead man. I owe you my life.”

Tarzan didn't understand the gravitas of that statement. He was content with calling D'Arnot a friend.

Since the jungle had no seasons, measuring the passage of time was almost impossible. D'Arnot could tell he'd been there a while because Tarzan had grown almost as big as him and his language skills had greatly improved. The Frenchman had shared his combat and survival skills with the boy and been surprised to learn new techniques from Tarzan. With their combined knowledge they often hunted food together, although the Frenchman was no match for Tarzan's stealth or speed—and didn't share his love for raw meat, so he ate only plants and vegetables.

On one such hunting trip at the river's edge, D'Arnot revealed something that had been growing in his mind. “I must leave.”

Tarzan longed to explore the vast savannahs of Africa and visit the cities with trees made from stone.

“Go where?” asked Tarzan.

“Home.”

“D'Arnot is home.” It was a simple, innocent declaration that made the man's heart break.

“My home is in France—Lyon, a beautiful city with wonderful Roman ruins. You should come.”

“How many days' travel?”

“Many . . . But listen, Tarzan, understand that if you come with me then there is a chance you may not ever return here. You may not want to.”

Tarzan was confused. “Why?”

D'Arnot gestured to the aircraft. “You must have been on board this when it crashed. Even if your real parents died on it, there will still be people who are concerned about you. They probably think you're dead.” D'Arnot had found references relating to the Greystokes around the plane and had told Tarzan about their charitable work. “The Greystokes are a powerful family, known around the world. If you are one of them—”

“I am Tarzan. This is my home.”

D'Arnot could think of nothing to persuade Tarzan to come with him, but had no intention of lying to the boy. As much as D'Arnot enjoyed the jungle, he didn't belong here, and Tarzan knew that. It was time to return to civilization and reclaim his old life, as well as recount the amazing story of the boy who lived with apes. It was with a heavy heart that D'Arnot parted from Tarzan.

They walked to the edge of the
mangani
territory at Thunder Mountain. D'Arnot assured Tarzan that he could find his way through the jungle safely from there, now that he was armed with the knowledge and skills the boy had taught him. Tarzan did not wish to leave his jungle family, nor did he want to see D'Arnot leave. The officer solemnly promised to return once he had made contact with the outside world and they said their goodbyes. Tarzan watched his friend climb down the cliff-top track. D'Arnot turned and waved before disappearing into the jungle below.

Tarzan waited until the sky turned dark, watching for any sign of D'Arnot's return. He sat alone, his heart burning with feelings of abandonment he didn't understand. That was the last time he saw his friend alive.

•••

Tarzan's head hung with sadness as he finished recounting the story of his past to Jane. It had been some effort to recall words he learned once but had not used in a long time, while reliving the emotions of D'Arnot's departure.

Jane laid a hand on Tarzan's shoulder in a gesture of comfort. She knew he feared that she would disappear like D'Arnot. She wanted to reassure him, but the truth was she did not know what would happen in the future and she did not want to lie to him.

For a long while they sat in silence. Parrots circled overhead, and Jane found herself lost in the relaxing jungle sounds. The wind changed direction and Jane started to smell sulphurous fumes from the volcano, though it was faint enough not to be unpleasant. However, it seemed to set Tarzan on edge and he climbed onto a spire of rock projecting from the cliff, his eyes scanning the jungle below.

The sky was bleeding red as the sun slowly sank behind the mountain ridges and Jane fought to stop yawning. She had almost forgotten that her day had started by stealing the jeep from the camp.

“Maybe we should be heading back? It's getting dark.”

“Jane stay.”

“Will she?” she said, half smiling.

“Yes.”

Jane opened her mouth to speak, but stopped. She thought it unlikely that they would have been able to make it to the camp tonight and had anticipated, hoped even, that they would sleep on the plateau and head back to the camp the following morning.

Tarzan said nothing more as darkness cloaked the land and the sky was filled with stars—clusters of diamond dust across the infinite blackness. It was so dark Tarzan was just a shadow next to her. Under any other circumstances, Jane would be terrified, sitting out in the middle of the jungle at night, but with Tarzan she felt safe.

Tarzan suddenly spoke. “See!”

Jane thought he was referring to the stars and was about to reply—then realized he was pointing at the volcano. A dull red glow shone from the crater and she saw cracks appear across the top of the cone, and the occasional fountain of lava. Every so often red cinders flicked in the air like a swarm of fireflies, then a chunk of rock would be ejected over the rim in a ball of cherry-red flame and roll down the side of the cone, breaking apart in a colorful display.

“It's beautiful!” Jane exclaimed. She had never seen anything like it before, but she was thankful they were viewing it from afar.

They watched for some time as the waxing moon rose, illuminating the landscape and allowing Jane to see Tarzan properly. She was alarmed to notice he was staring into the jungle.

“What is it?” she whispered.

For a moment, Tarzan didn't speak, then he whispered back, “We are hunted.”

A chill ran down Jane's spine. “By what?”

“
Targarni
.”

Tarzan's head cocked left then right as he tracked a noise beyond Jane's hearing. She became conscious of just how loud her breathing sounded. She took a deep breath and held it.

The night chorus of jungle insects was deafening. Frogs chirped with melodic calls and the faint bass rumble of the volcano underlined nature's score. Then she heard it—a definite movement in the trees. But it wasn't just one hunter.

The trees suddenly exploded with a hideous high-pitched screech she had heard earlier as she walked along the trail to the camp. Dozens of pale faces loomed in the moonlight. Tarzan issued a roar so primal and raw that Jane was astounded any human could make such a noise.

Before they had a chance to move, the ambush was sprung.

T
he speed of their attack was incredible. Jane saw fleeting glimpses of the dark shadows and terrible pale faces but she instantly recognized them as chimpanzees. These were not the clown-like animals she had seen on television back at home. They were wild, savage killers. Even on all fours they came up to her chest. Black fur rippled over powerful muscles and their lips pulled back to reveal lethal teeth that could easily tear her apart. Worse, they were clearly hunting as a pack. The ambush was an intelligently planned operation.

Tarzan blocked the first attacker as it barreled toward Jane. She heard the meaty thud of two bodies impacting at high speed and saw the chimp rebound into the darkness.

Another pair wheeled around Tarzan, shrieking wildly. He caught one by the throat as it leaped for him, its teeth chomping fiercely. Tarzan used the chimp as a shield against the second. Other members of the band kept back, hooting in the darkness to add to the chaos.

The chimp Tarzan was using as a shield sank its teeth into his arm. With a grunt of pain, Tarzan hurled the chimp at the second attacker and was rewarded with yelps from them both. He lunged after them, roaring fiercely.

Three more chimps suddenly bolted out from the trees, heads bowed low. They charged at Tarzan with such force that his legs were swept from under him and the mighty jungle warrior was flipped through the air. The moment Tarzan crashed to the ground, the three chimps set upon him with a ferocious volley of blows.

“Get off him!” Jane screamed.

She was no match for the powerful apes, but she couldn't watch Tarzan suffer like this. She took a step forward, her mind searching for possibilities, and her foot struck a boulder, hidden in the dead foliage. Jane lifted it with difficulty, as it was almost the size of her head.

Sharp teeth bit into Tarzan's arm and he roared with pain and fury. Jane could see blood on his face and only hoped it wasn't his own. With shaking arms she raised the rock under her chin, ready to throw.