Blood Forest (Suspense thriller) (18 page)

BOOK: Blood Forest (Suspense thriller)
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Temba shrugged and nodded. He moved straight up to the big, thick trunk and grabbed the twisted bark. The branches didn’t begin for quite a ways up, but he found grooves and bumps in the bark.

Brandon shone the light up the tree, hoping to give him a good view of where he was going.

“Be careful, Temba,” Sam called.

“Listen to her, please,” Alfred echoed. “I’ll feel terrible if you kill yourself because of me.”

Temba’s voice echoed down. “Don’t worry. It is not hard.”

As he spoke, bark exploded under one of his feet and his whole body slipped. Sam took a helpless step forward as if she meant to catch him, but the agile man held on with his strong arms. He glanced down to see their worried looks and laughed.

Alfred, Sam, and Brandon waited at the base of the tree. It was not long before Temba’s body disappeared into the shadowy upper branches. He climbed halfway up the tree, not bothering to get close to the canopy. Whatever he saw from that height seemed to be enough, because he reversed direction and climbed down.

A few minutes later, he hopped down, landing expertly between the roots. Brown chips of bark colored his white polo shirt.

“Well, did you see anything?” Alfred asked.

He nodded. “The whole forest goes down over there.”

“Excellent work!”

“How far away is it?” Sam asked.

“Not far,” he replied. “We can get there in no time at all.”

Brandon looked in the direction Temba indicated. It would take them straight away from the river and any landmarks that would lead them back to the campsite. “Are you sure you can find it in the dark?”

“Of course,” the Mbuti replied with confidence.

“Please, let’s head that way,” Alfred insisted anxiously.

“It will still be there in the morning,” Brandon argued.

“If you’d like to head back to camp, then by all means do so.”

Brandon looked to his wife. She knelt to tug a loose root free from the soil. The stick looked thick and strong, and she held it like a club. She smiled at him, an adventurous look in her eyes.

He said, “All right. Why don’t you lead the way. Temba?”

Temba walked quickly through the forest, his small bow draped across his back. Brandon kept the light pointed straight ahead. The white beam caused shadows to creep and dance across their vision. Sam and Alfred walked on either side of him.

They tripped on roots and branches. Except for Temba, who seemed to have an uncanny sense of where every obstacle would be, even in the darkness. As time went on, Brandon sensed that they were getting far away from camp. He wondered if the mercenaries would be able to hear their shouts from such a distance.

Temba stopped suddenly and gazed ahead into the darkness. As Brandon and the others moved up to join him, Brandon’s light revealed a gradual slope in the jungle floor. The descent continued beyond the range of his light.

Alfred bent down, feeling the soil with his fingers. He pulled up some of the black dirt and held it in his palm. “This is perfect,” he whispered. “Cheers, Temba.”

“You think the flower can grow here?” Temba asked.

“It’s possible. The environment is right so far. But we need to see what’s at the bottom.”

Temba nodded and walked further. Brandon got ready to follow, but the Mbuti only made it three steps before freezing.

“Did you hear that?” Sam whispered.

A subtle sound rang in Brandon’s ears. It was somewhere close by.

Temba spun around searching the forest, his arms out to the sides. Brandon pointed his flashlight into the darkness, watching the shadows dance between the leaves.

“We’re not alone,” Alfred whispered.

Temba took a few steps back. “We need to go back.”

Ike heard footsteps move up behind him. He half-expected to see Delani, until he remembered that the South African had already retired to his tent. One skill Delani possessed was to fall asleep on command. It made keeping watch cycles easier because Delani got the rest he needed so he could take the odd watch.

A feminine form appeared beside Ike, leaning up against the same tree he used as a resting post. He looked over to see Nessa smile weakly at him.

“You weren’t in your tent,” she explained.

“Taking watch with Kuntolo. Didn’t mean to disappoint you, luv.”

He gave her a smirk, which she returned. Her unusual candor made him grow wary.

“I wanted to talk to you.” Her brown eyes belied her nervousness.

“About what?”

She took a deep breath. “About our conversation before.”

Ike nodded in understanding. “I see.”

He turned to face her, leaning his shoulder against the trunk. The moisture from the wood soaked through his sleeve. Nessa turned similarly to face him. Although she had to look up, their faces were only inches apart.

“I’m not used to talking to people,” she admitted. “About personal things.”

“I can tell,” he replied with a grin. “Not that I blame you. You don’t know me all that well after all.”

Nessa shrugged a shoulder. “I shouldn’t have pegged you like I did.”

“No worries.” He found himself forgiving her already. Maybe he had melted her icy crust at least a little bit.

“It’s just, it’s funny,” she said, shaking her head.

“What’s funny?”

As Nessa searched for words to explain what she meant, something caught her attention. She turned her gaze away from Ike, out at the black forest.

Ike expected the shadows of tree trunks, the constant swirl of darkness with a few shafts of moonlight breaking through the canopy. But instead, an eerie bright light approached through the darkness. The incandescent orb flittered between the leaves, joined a moment later by a twin. The second orb flickered into existence seemingly from nowhere.

“What the hell?”

Nessa straightened, staring at the phenomena, her eyes wide. “You see them, too?”

Ike blinked to make sure, his eyes catching every detail as the lights passed near a set of branches. The shadows moved where they illuminated, every dark silhouette accompanied by a ghostly twin.

“Afraid so,” he whispered. He pulled Gilles’ rifle off his shoulder and took a step in front of her. “That looks like Gilles’ ghosts, wouldn’t you say?”

“Built up static electricity,” she offered. “Like ball lightning. Or—or maybe marsh gases.”

“If you say so,” he replied. “If they start talking, I say we start running.”

He felt her hands on his back as she looked past his shoulder. She used his body for cover, easily hiding behind his larger frame. Ike didn’t mind one bit, her trust in him made him stronger. He raised the tip of the rifle, holding the weapon at the ready.

The lights flickered and went out. Ike and Nessa backed away, still watching the dark leaves where the lights had last been. They felt the fire at their backs and both breathed deeply.

Suddenly, Raoul cried out. They spun to look at the Frenchman. Raoul’s eyes were on Kuntolo, who stood close to the forest’s edge. The pygmy turned, staggering slightly.

His hand reached up and grabbed at the shaft of an arrow. The tiny projectile protruded from his bicep, the head buried deep in his flesh.

17

T
he trees sprang to life, dark shadows becoming solid. Brandon took a reflexive step back, colliding with Alfred as silhouettes emerged ashen gray in the brilliance of his flashlight.

One figure stopped a foot away from Temba and kicked out with a naked heel, connecting solidly with his stomach. Caught by surprise, the well-dressed pygmy fell back until his backside hit the sharply descending floor. He tumbled, bouncing on the jagged ground, and disappeared from Brandon’s light.

A wooden shaft swung down in an arc from the figure. Pain shot up Brandon’s wrist before he realized he’d been struck, and his hand released the flashlight. It bounced away, rolling across the ground. Brandon caught glimpses of the emerging figures in the scattered light.

At least six surrounded them, their bodies ash gray and short and wiry like adolescents. The whites of their eyes glowed brightly in the darkness, grass skirts with long whipping tails at their waists. Each carried a long shaft, tipped with sharp bone. They moved with unusual grace, surrounding the small party before anyone could react.

Temba’s attacker turned toward Brandon, spear extended at arm’s length. The incredible reach caught him off guard and he pushed back past Alfred. The pygmy-spirit advanced, shuffling imperceptibly through the foliage. The spear thrust forward, and Brandon twisted his body in desperation, trying to stay out of the way. In the process, he was driven through the thick undergrowth, separated from the others.

Soon, he turned into an all-out run. After a moment, he snuck a glance over his shoulder. Sure enough, the gray pygmy followed right behind him.

Brandon bolted faster. A vine gripped his ankle, and he tumbled forward. His face hit the bark of a tree, his head knocked back. He collapsed against the trunk and turned to face the charging pygmy.

The spear tip drove toward his chest. He grabbed the shaft with both hands. The impact of the collision rippled through his arms, and he lifted one leg to stop the pygmy from closing completely. His foot drove into the pygmy’s abdomen and the warrior let out a winded grunt, Brandon’s first indication that his attacker was, in fact, human.

A spear-wielding apparition closed on Sam and she reacted on instinct. Her club struck the end of the spear, batting it away from her body. She stepped closer to her attacker, and swung backhanded. Wood connected solidly with a satisfying crack.

The pygmy fell backward. Her club dangled, half-split. And then a heavy body hit her from behind. She felt the heat of flesh and something grainy on her shoulders. She fell hard into the mud, bruising her elbows.

Alfred cried out. The chemist wrestled with three of the phantoms, two grappled around his waist and one around the man’s neck. He choked and gasped in his struggle.

Sam tried to get up on all fours, but a bare foot swung around and kicked her in the abdomen. Air blasted out of her lungs. She fell onto her side and rolled onto her back.

Two pygmies stood over her, each holding a spear in one hand. They paused for only a moment.

“Please, no.”

The butt of a spear came down hard on her chest, striking her in the sternum. Sam’s body curled, her knees tucking to her stomach, as pain seared through her. The other spear swung down hard. She recognized the angry look on the bruised pygmy’s face moments before the shaft struck her nose and cheek.

Alfred was lost in the confusion as the two pygmies pummeled Sam. An arm clutched Alfred tightly, his attacker’s chest pressed firmly to his back. The others grabbed at his flailing arms and legs making every struggle on his part futile.

In seconds they pulled him to the ground. He felt something dry and powdery across his face where a forearm had brushed him and he suddenly realized why the pygmies were gray. They had coated their bodies with ash, a pygmy funereal custom designed to make them look dead. And it worked quite well.

Once his back hit the ground, the forearm around his neck released and Alfred could breathe. He lashed out with his hook hand, catching one on the shoulder. He felt a satisfying rip as the dull tip dug into flesh.

A fist connected with his face shattering the lens of one of his glasses. The rest of the frame slid off his face and landed on the ground. His vision blurred, not entirely from the loss of his glasses. Another fist connected with his chest, knocking the wind from him. A tirade of punches and kicks followed, battering him mercilessly. Finally, the chemist curled up, raising his arms protectively.

He felt something heavy pull on his prosthetic and the arm was twisted roughly. A moment later, the hook pulled away and he heard plastic and metal crash into the soil.

The gray warrior leaned heavily against the butt of his spear, trying to drive it into Brandon’s heart. But Brandon used the strength of both arms and one leg to hold the man back. He tried yanking the spear to the side, but the pygmy adjusted his balance to compensate. In the process, his knee bent slightly and gave the pygmy a window of opportunity.

The warrior yanked the spear back unexpectedly, throwing Brandon off balance. His heel drove between Brandon’s legs, catching him in the groin. The incredible pain stunned him even as the warrior raised the spear up over his head, ready to drive it down murderously.

The warrior swung. A whistle pierced the jungle air.

The pygmy cried out in sudden pain, his back arching. One hand let go of his spear and reached around to the opposite shoulder. In the motion, the pygmy’s back twisted and Brandon saw a tiny shaft protruding from just inside his left shoulder blade.

Shocked, he looked right past the pygmy into the dark jungle. A single shaft of moonlight found its way through the canopy, lighting the white of a polo shirt. Temba stood, bow in hand, his fingers inches from the taut bowstring.

The gray pygmy saw Temba, too. He spun away from Brandon, spear ready, even as Temba nocked a second arrow.

The gray pygmy took two steps closer to Temba. Temba let loose a second arrow, but the gray pygmy stepped to the side and the arrow shot past into the jungle. Then the pygmy skipped forward and hurled his spear into the air.

The spear flew wide of Temba. Too wide. Intentionally wide. It clattered into the undergrowth several yards away.

The pygmy circled to the right, but Temba moved to cut him off, calling out to him in their language. He seemed to be asking a question, demanding an answer. The pygmy hesitated and shouted something back, then darted off into the forest.

Brandon stood, brushing mud and twigs off of his body. “Where are the others?”

“Wait here,” Temba said.

Brandon watched in dismay as Temba sprinted into the forest after the gray pygmy.

You’re kidding me, right?
Ike saw the size of the tiny arrow in Kuntolo’s arm. Surely it stung, but Ike was holding an assault rifle. Who would dare attack the group with a tiny child’s toy? He wondered if the weapon belonged to Temba. But the expression on Kuntolo’s face was one of fear.

A spear burst from the forest in flight. Ike ducked and the shaft narrowly missed his shoulder. Two more arrows and one spear sailed toward the group. Gilles fell back, barely dodging one arrow. And to Ike’s right, Nessa cried out in pain.

Ike spun toward her. She fell to her knees, a thick spear shaft extending from the side of her calf. Her hand fell to her leg. His eyes flashed back to the forest and he suddenly understood the advantage of such weapons. No flash. No retort, nothing that gave away their positions.

Well, almost nothing. The spears couldn’t come from far and they all flew from the same general direction. Their attackers didn’t have the craft to surround their opponents.

Ike fell to one knee beside Nessa. Without asking and without caution, he gripped the shaft of the spear and tore it out of her calf. Her scream chilled his bones and she nearly collapsed from the pain. He grabbed her arm and lifted her to her feet. As he stood, he saw Delani standing, gun raised and pointed into the forest.

Raoul, Kuntolo, and Gilles moved behind the mercenary boss for protection.

“Fall back,” Ike yelled. “Put the fire between us and them. Make them come into the light.”

The assault continued one arrow at a time. Ike dragged Nessa along with him, although she resisted, hopping painfully on one leg. He kept his eyes on the jungle, hoping for the smallest glimpse of his attackers.

Delani and the others came around the other side of the blazing campfire and moved further back, past the tents. Soon, a wide stretch of lighted jungle lay between them and the ambushers.

Ike furrowed his brow. Nothing made sense. Although skilled hunters, the pygmies were not warriors. When they had disputes to settle they usually did so the easiest way possible: by leaving the area and moving somewhere else. Ike pushed Nessa behind a fallen log. She slumped to the ground, her hands clasping her knee. Blood soaked her pants.

Raoul, Gilles, and Kuntolo took cover there as well, Kuntolo leaning heavily against Raoul. He had pulled the arrow out of his arm and clenched it in his fist. His face sagged, his body weak. Ike and Delani perched against the log, gun barrels pointed across the campfire. A slight sound drew Ike’s attention behind them. As he turned, he saw a wall of foliage, close to the river, at their backs.

A terrible thought occurred to him. Perhaps the ambushers
had
surrounded them. Ike spun and opened fire. The rifle rattled thunderously and the undergrowth crackled and split under the hail of bullets. Shadows moved in the darkness, fleeing the assault. They floated off the ground in silence, like ghosts.

Kuntolo said something to Raoul that caused the Frenchman to pale. Raoul cried in despair even as Kuntolo began to falter. His head tilted to one side, his breathing strained. Confused, Ike looked over at Kuntolo in search of a second wound. How could such a tiny arrow do this much damage?

Raoul burst into tears. Overwhelmed with grief, he pulled the pygmy close to his body, his thick arms wrapped around the muscled torso. His forehead touched Kuntolo’s cheek. He cried out in French, his words too fast and too filled with emotion for Ike to translate.

And then Ike knew. “Poison. Shit.”

Delani’s eyes met his. The mercenary boss aimed over the log. Fire blazed from the end of his pistol barrel as he fired blindly into the foliage. With Delani’s attention across the campfire, Ike faced the opposite direction, rifle raised, just in case more tried surrounding them.

When Delani’s clip ran out, he carefully fitted a new one. For several moments, the forest fell silent, aside from Nessa’s quiet groans and Raoul’s sobs. Not a single footstep. Not a single animal call.

Brandon ran through the jungle. He collided with every bush and log imaginable, nearly tripping several times in the darkness. His eyes focused on a small flicker of light up ahead. The white beam shone across the ground, lighting mud and twigs; his flashlight, where he had left it.

His legs kicked through a row of ferns as he came to the top of the hill. To his right, the ground sloped down, the depression Temba had mentioned. To his left, the forest was empty. He heard distant gunshots and, for a moment, he paused, staring off in their direction, back to camp. Finally, he retrieved the flashlight and whipped it around in search of any sign of his wife or Alfred. He saw nobody.

BOOK: Blood Forest (Suspense thriller)
13.83Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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