Part 5 (1/2)
As they moved around it cautiously, Brandon made out the shape of its head dangling on the other side of the root. The animal's black throat was caked in blood and its round sunken eyes were open wide, giving it a terrified look. A long blue tongue hung limply out of its open maw.
”What is it?” Sam asked. ”An okapi?”
The okapi was a relative of the giraffe, only smaller and lacking the long neck. In the Ituri forest they were plentiful, but didn't exist anywhere else in the world.
”I think so,” he replied.
She moved closer and crouched down near its limp head. ”It looks like something tore its throat open.”
The body looked fresh and lacked insects. It couldn't have been there for very long. ”We should keep moving,” he said.
She leaned closer, tugging at the hide around the gash, examining it. ”Do you think it was a baboon?”
Tiny beads of saliva mixed with the blood in the wound, signifying a bite wound. He could not imagine the small, dog-like primates reaching the throat of such a large animal and making a single clean bite. Instead, they would have surrounded the okapi as a group, nipping and clawing.
A sickening grunt ripped their attention away from the dead animal. A second okapi stood a few yards away. The creature stared at them, its wide flat ears raised, its body on alert.
Okapis were herbivores, normally docile. They were skittish animals, like deer or antelope.
But this one was not normal. Its long snout quivered, dripping thick wet globules of crimson. The blood s.h.i.+mmered and rolled over its lips before dropping to the jungle floor.
”What the h.e.l.l?” Sam said.
The creature startled a little at the sound of her voice and took a threatening step closer.
”Sam . . . when I say, I want you to run,” he told her in a low tone. ”Stay close to the river so I can find you.”
”Don't be stupid. We're not splitting up.”
”It doesn't look right.”
”I am not running away from some deformed giraffe,” she insisted. ”Not even a rabid deformed giraffe.”
”Sam.”
She reached down among the tangled roots and tore free a twisted branch, holding it up in front of her like a staff.
Her movement must have startled the creature, because it darted toward them. With its shoulder reaching six feet off of the ground, the animal stood over them. Its neck was not as long as a giraffe's, but its head towered in the air, ears outstretched to make it look even taller, and it easily weighed more than a horse.
She stepped forward over the root of the tree and swung the stick at the charging okapi. The stick batted against the animal's nose ineffectively, and at the last second, she staggered back, falling against the tree. The okapi moved around her, circling, and swinging its head in her direction.
He grabbed the animal's hind leg with both hands. The okapi staggered, and Sam backpedaled out of its reach. She climbed around the tree, putting the trunk between her and it.
The hind leg kicked out suddenly, and the hoof connected solidly with Brandon's abdomen, blasting the air from his lungs and blowing him back several feet. He collapsed into the mud, gasping for breath. His insides throbbed from the blow, sending out nauseating pain.
The okapi circled the tree, chasing Sam who climbed across the roots, using her hands and feet to weave through the twisting landscape. In this way, she managed to keep ahead of the beast, as its four legs struggled between the thick roots.
She shouted at the animal, her angry cries echoing through the branches. The blood-covered okapi ended the chase and turned its anger on the tree, tearing at the bark with its teeth and beating the trunk with its snout.
She backed away from the trunk and ran over to Brandon. They watched as the okapi struck its head against the tree, sometimes so hard that it staggered and almost fell over.
”That is one very sick animal,” he said. Sam helped him to his feet, and he winced in pain as he stood.
”Do you think so?” she asked. ”Do you think the baboons were sick?”
He nodded, remembering their ferocity and comparing it to the okapi. He thought of Sam's behavior the night before. His vision was still blurred in the eye where she had struck him.
We could be sick, too, he thought.
”Let's go,” he suggested.
Even the birds seemed angry. Their dreadful caws ripped through the landscape, surrounding Sam and Brandon. And through it all, they felt those malevolent eyes upon them. The whole forest seemed to be telling them to get out; that they didn't belong.
At times he grew paranoid, seeing shapes in the leaves and hearing voices on the wind. Twice, he thought he heard Sam right behind him, keeping pace, and then turned to find n.o.body there.
”The sun's setting,” Sam pointed out, as she gazed up at the canopy.
”What do you want me to do?” he asked, his words escaping in a hiss.
She looked back at him, stunned. ”Nothing.”
Was that even me? he wondered, feeling guilty for snapping at his wife.
She moved ahead, putting distance between them. She jogged ahead, staying close to the river. He ran, hopping over twisting roots, catching up to her. She had stopped and was staring straight ahead.
”Sam, I'm sorry,” he said as he came up behind her.
”It's beautiful.”
He followed her gaze to a clearing where the trees hung over a large patch of gra.s.s. Sunlight poked through, lighting the carpet in an explosion of reds, purples, and blues. The gra.s.ses and the trees were adorned with beautiful flowers and the whole forest seemed to rise up around them, creating a barrier around the garden. She walked forward, stepping lightly through the gra.s.s. The canopy provided just the right amount of cool shade so the gra.s.ses didn't grow too thick. A stream trickled nearby.
She stopped in the middle of the field and nudged a resting branch with her foot, then stooped to pick it up. It was blackened and charred. She dropped it back onto the ground and stirred a pile of objects with her toe. He saw several patches of blackened ground where it looked like leaves and branches had been set aflame. Some were burnt into coals, but in some places the green leaves had only dried and curled up from the heat.
”What is this place?” she asked him.
He gazed at the nearby undergrowth. Some of the plants appeared to push apart, forming a trail off into the jungle. ”I think it's a camp,” he offered. He examined the burnt piles. ”These branches look like they were part of some kind of house.”
”Like a hut?”
”Yeah.”
”I wonder where the people went.”
”Pygmies are hunter-gatherers, right? They probably use this place and then move on when the season changes or game gets scarce.”
”Do they burn their huts?” she tromped off, investigating the abandoned camp further.