Burial Ground (19 page)

"N-no, sir."

"I don't know if I believe you, Lance
Corporal."

"You have my word, sir. I won't tell a
soul."

"There's only one way to guarantee that,"
Tasker said. He rounded Telford until he was directly behind him.
In one fluid motion, he pulled his knife from its sheath, reached
around the front of Telford's neck, and yanked the blade to the
side.

Telford sputtered and coughed blood.
Grasping at his open throat, he wavered in place for a long moment
before collapsing to the ground. Blood gurgled in his lacerated
trachea.

Tasker leaned over Telford's prone form,
wiped the blade on the already bloody jacket, and returned it to
his hip.

"Do the rest of you have any reservations
about pressing on?" Tasker asked, looking each man directly in the
eyes in turn.

"No, sir," they said in unison.

"Good. Then dump this garbage where no one
will find it and let's get a move on."

11:13 a.m.

Galen walked in the center of the pack,
thankful for the armed men both leading and trailing the group,
though he was increasingly aware of the proximity of the jungle to
either side. At best, he could see perhaps ten feet into the
foliage, and only half that far the majority of the time. The
events of the previous night had unnerved him. Their guides
vanishing in the middle of the night would have been traumatic
enough without the appearance of the native with Hunter's rock
hammer. He didn't care what Sam said: he perceived the appearance
of the painted man as a genuine threat.

Reaching into the inner pocket of his khaki
vest, he stroked the smooth, slender feather.

There was still a mysterious, unclassified
raptor out there in the wilds, he reassured himself, and he was
going to be the first one in the world to study it, regardless of
the consequences. Of course, he not so secretly hoped there
wouldn't be any. His nerves were just getting the best of him.
After nearly a decade's absence from field work, he had been
anxious from the start. Throw in all of the strange happenings and
the presence of guns all around him, and who in his right mind
wouldn't be on the verge of tasting his bile? He just needed to
find a way to relax a little, take the edge off.

He un-shouldered his pack and rummaged
through the contents while he walked. There it was. The small
hydro-bladder he'd had the foresight to fill with as much vodka as
it would hold before they left civilization. Just a nip would dull
the stress nicely. Here was one thing to be thankful for. At least
it wasn't his backpack that had been stolen from the campsite.

Merritt hiked directly ahead of him,
encumbered only by the clothes on his back. Everything the man had
brought with him was gone, and they all knew they would never
recover any of it.

Good thing the thief hadn't looked in
his
pack, Galen thought. He had just dropped a good chunk of
cash on a brand new, state-of-the-art---

"No, no," Galen whimpered. He rifled through
his backpack. When he still couldn't find it, he dropped to his
knees and dumped the contents. He scattered everything across the
ground and rummaged through the piles. It wasn't there. "My camera.
Has anyone seen my camera?"

"So it wasn't just me," Merritt said. Galen
looked up to see an almost smug expression on the man's face. He
could have punched him right in the nose. "They got you too,
huh?"

"This isn't at all funny," Galen said,
stuffing his belongings back into his pack. "I spent three thousand
dollars on that camera. I need the best technology money can buy
for when we find the raptor."

"Relax, Dr. Russell," Colton said. "We have
plenty of technologically advanced equipment to properly document
anything we encounter." He inclined his head toward the film crew.
Jay held up his camera to illustrate the point.

"That's not the point. It was
my
camera, and they stole it.
My
camera."

"You'll be fully reimbursed for your loss,
Dr. Russell."

"You'd better believe I'll be reimbursed. I
wasn't the one who brought those thieves into our midst. I wasn't
the one who was supposed to be guarding---"

"Dr. Russell," Leo snapped.

Galen fell silent.

Leo's face turned red with fury and his eyes
narrowed to slits. "I take full responsibility for what happened
and will personally reimburse you for the camera." His expression
softened. "Now, unless you want to turn back and walk for another
week to buy a new one, I suggest we keep moving. We're within a
couple days of our destination, and I, for one, am anxious to see
what awaits us."

Galen nodded and shouldered his pack
again.

Merritt clapped him on the back. "At least
you still have a change of clothes." He smiled and fell back in
line ahead of Galen.

The pilot looked exhausted. His eyes were
bloodshot and set deeply into dark sockets. Galen wondered if
Merritt had slept at all over the last few days as he began to walk
once more, grumbling under his breath.

They'd been hiking all morning without
anything resembling an actual break. The sun hadn't even reached
its zenith and it already felt like a sauna under the smothering
canopy. He had accidentally ripped the mosquito netting for his hat
and was now forced to use Samantha's sticky concoction. The mixture
of lemon verbena and pennyroyal made his skin itch, yet still the
mosquitoes found a way through his defenses. His legs ached. His
back ached. He was tired and thirsty, and since dawn he had only
seen five species of birds, all of them flocking so high in the
upper branches that he had only caught occasional glimpses and
heard their distant calls. Every tree was identical to the last,
and he was tired of having to make sure that every vine didn't have
eyes and fangs before brushing it aside. Five hours had passed, and
they had stumbled upon nothing more exciting than---

Galen barely stopped in time to keep from
running into Merritt's back. The entire group stood still. Ahead,
he saw Rippeth holding up his fist, the signal to halt.

"Shh!" Morton hissed into his ear from
behind.

He held his breath and waited.

No one moved.

What the hell was going on?

11:53 a.m.

The moment Rippeth gave the signal,
Merritt's old instincts reawakened. Adrenaline surged through his
veins and his senses grew hypersensitive. He became one with the
jungle, his body attuned to the very heartbeat of the Earth. He
could feel even the slightest movement of one leaf rubbing against
another, the sudden onset of tension radiating from his companions.
Every sound was amplified. He heard their breathing, the nervous
shuffle of their feet on the detritus, the patter of condensation
dripping to the forest floor, and the soft rustle of movement from
beyond the edge of sight.

He leaned forward and whispered into Sam's
ear.

"Get ready."

An eternal moment of silence passed, and
still no one moved. His muscles tightened like springs, preparing
to release their potential.

When Rippeth lowered his fist and lunged
away from the path, Merritt was already in motion. He grabbed Sam
around the waist and dove into the underbrush. She landed on top of
him with a startled squeak. He rolled her over so that their faces
were mere inches apart, her wide eyes staring directly into his.
She opened her mouth to speak, but he pressed his forefinger to her
lips to silence her. He leaned forward until their cheeks touched,
removed his finger, and whispered directly into her ear.

"Stay down."

Her breath tickled the fine hairs on his ear
and raised the goosebumps along his arms when she spoke.

"Did you see anything?"

He drew his face away just far enough that
she could see him shake his head in response. Her eyes held his for
several rapid breaths.

"We need to sit up a little so we can see,"
he whispered, their lips nearly brushing. "Be prepared to run as
fast as you can."

She nodded and he helped position her so
that she crouched directly in front of him. He could see the path
over her shoulder through the branches. She shifted to the right
for a better view. He took her hand, ready to haul her to her feet
at the first hint of trouble. Her fingers trembled as she tightened
her grip. He leaned forward against her to provide a measure of
physical reassurance.

Together they studied the end of the path
twenty yards away where it appeared to open into a clearing.

Something was definitely out there. All he
could see were the shifting shadows of the ceiba trees, but he
could sense it, moving invisibly through the darkness.

11:56 a.m.

"What do you see?" Dahlia whispered. Her
breath on the fine hairs of his ear gave him goosebumps.

"Nothing yet." Jay zoomed the camera down
the path and into the small light gap beyond. It reminded him of
the last one, only he couldn't see the fallen tree that had created
it. There were other subtle differences. There were no clusters of
saplings, and the wild grasses and ferns were much shorter, almost
as though they'd been trimmed.

Still, none of the others had emerged from
hiding. He could see their backs and occasional profiles through
the foliage. Most of them appeared to be every bit as confused as
he was.

And then he saw it. A large, dark shape
lumbered into view. Its head swiveled nervously on top of a long,
slender neck that stood perfectly erect from its impossibly wooly
body. Four spindle-thin legs hardly appeared capable of bearing its
weight.

"You've got to be kidding me," Jay said.
Shaking his head, he rose from behind the flowering orchid bush and
lowered the camera. "It's just one of those freaking llama-looking
things."

Colton leaned out across the path and waved
for him to get back down.

Forget that. The bush was crawling with
brown ants with pincers so big they could hardly lift their heads.
He wasn't about to willingly climb back in there and provide them
with lunch at his expense. No way. If none of the others were brave
enough to approach this terrifying alpaca, then he was just going
to have to---

"Get down!" Dahlia whispered. She jerked on
his pant leg. It was only then that he noticed the black form
standing perfectly still past the animal.

"Aw, crap."

He dropped and scooted into the ant-covered
leaves. Before he was even situated, he had the camera up and
rolling. He zoomed past the fuzzy gray and black creature and onto
the shadowed apparition. The camera focused on a man at the edge of
the forest, just shy of the point where the sunlight forced back
the shade. He was painted black from head to toe. No wonder Jay
hadn't initially seen him. Of course, if he could see the man, then
surely he had already seen them as well. If that was the case, then
why was he still just standing there?

The man hovered at the fringe of the jungle
for several long minutes while they all waited silently. Why didn't
they just keep going? Jay wondered. They outnumbered and outgunned
the man. Surely they were just being overly cautious, but still, it
was always possible that the native was friendly and posed no
threat. What in the world were they waiting for?

Finally, the painted man stepped out into
the sunlight and approached the alpaca. He grabbed the braided rope
hanging from the animal's neck, gave a sharp tug, and guided it
toward the wall of foliage.

Raindrops pattered on the leaves above him
as a gentle rain began to fall.

The man paused and looked up into the sky.
He acknowledged the sudden onset of rain with a nod, and then
continued into the dark forest. A moment later, he was gone.

"Did you get that?" Dahlia whispered.

"You mean that guy standing there doing
nothing? Oh yeah, I got it. Fat lot of good it will do us
though."

Slowly, Rippeth rose in the lead and eased
out into the clearing. He scoured the light gap down the sight of
his pistol, then finally gave a wave to indicate they were safe to
leave their hiding spots.

Leo and Colton hesitantly eased to their
feet ahead. Jay did the same. He still didn't understand the need
for such overt prudence, but he followed the others at a snail's
pace out into the open.

"He brought the alpaca down here to graze,"
Sam said.

Jay looked down. His initial assessment had
been mostly correct. The weeds hadn't been trimmed, but grazed down
to nubs in sections.

"Why did we all have to hide?" he asked. "I
mean, there was only one of him and there are ten of us. What could
he possibly have done?"

"We could easily have frightened him,"
Colton said impatiently. "Then the next thing you know, we have
natives crawling all over us. They know we're here. When they're
ready, they'll either come to us on their own terms, or just
continue to hide and follow us from a distance until we've passed
out of their territory."

Jay nodded. It made sense, but it didn't
exactly make for a good documentary. He wasn't rooting for an
attack by a tribe of bow-and-arrow-wielding savages by any means,
but they needed some element of drama and danger to make the film
really sing.

While the others discussed how long they
should wait before continuing along the path to keep from spooking
the lone man with the alpaca, Jay raised the camera and wandered
the perimeter of the light gap, hoping to encounter something
remotely interesting. There were stumps where trees had been
cleared, and about a million hoof prints in the damp earth, but it
was otherwise unremarkable.

Raindrops tapped his shoulders and drained
in cool lines through his hair, down his neck, and along his spine.
It felt wonderful after so many hours of being sticky with sweat
from the humidity. As long as this didn't turn into another
tropical deluge, he'd be happy if the storm never stopped.