Part 6 (1/2)
”Silly superst.i.tion.”
The sky darkened, the green canopy turning blue as dusk fell. The others were still waiting at the Jeep when they arrived.
”Any luck?” Nessa asked, taking a few steps toward them, her feet crunching in the wet dirt.
”No luck,” Alfred replied. ”These people don't want to talk to me.”
”I think it's the hook,” Ike offered. Alfred turned an icy glare toward him, but the effect was lost in the fog on his gla.s.ses.
”It's not the hook,” Alfred insisted. ”The Bantu man explained everything.”
”What did he say?”
”According to him, the people of this village believe that the forest to the east is haunted.”
”Haunted?” Nessa asked doubtfully.
Alfred nodded. ”They believe that something terrible happened there long ago and now it is home to a powerful spirit. The spirit, he said, drives the animals of the forest mad and commands them to attack all that enter its lands. He said that the spirit can possess you and can take control of your mind. He also said that none who go in there ever come out.”
Ike was not a superst.i.tious man, not even a semi-religious one, but he felt his heartbeat quicken. He remembered sitting around a campfire as a small boy as his uncle told him ghost stories and feeling the same thrill.
”What about the village?” Nessa asked.
”He didn't know of one,” Alfred answered, shaking his head. ”He said they call it Msitu wa Damu.”
”Forest of blood,” Ike repeated, recognizing the Swahili words. He noticed Delani and Gilles s.h.i.+ft slightly. The South African gazed into the shadows of the surrounding forest.
Dark clouds moved across the sky, warning of a coming storm. With those clouds, came a light breeze, moving through the treetops. The canopy rustled overhead.
”Do the pygmies go there?” Ike asked.
”He said that pygmies no longer live in the forest there. Not even they will go inside,” Alfred said.
”So there's no village?” Nessa asked.
”It appears not,” Alfred replied with a shrug.
”I wouldn't be so sure there, Doc,” Ike countered. ”Right after we introduced ourselves . . . what was the first question you asked them?”
Alfred thought for a moment, trying to remember. ”I asked if there was a village east of here.”
Ike nodded. As soon as Alfred had asked that first question, the pygmies had turned from comedic to silent and distant. They did not have the look of people who were fearful, but rather the look of people who didn't want to give something away.
”What are you thinking?” Alfred asked.
”I think the pygmies were lying.”
”About what? About the forest?”
Ike shook his head. ”Did you ask them about the forest? Did one of them ever mention this spirit the Bantu man spoke of?”
”No.”
Ike grinned slyly at Alfred and Nessa. ”I'd bet everything that the pygmies know exactly where this village is.”
Alfred scratched his chin, looking up at the sky as a breeze blew in low, rustling their s.h.i.+rts.
”Why would they lie?” Nessa asked.
Ike shrugged. ”They could be protecting someone. Remember what happened to the village we just came from?”
”If that's the case, we could offer them money to tell us more,” Nessa suggested.
Alfred shook his head. ”They are from a hunter-gatherer society. They don't value material wealth as much. If they are serious about protecting this place, they won't be easy to bribe.”
”I disagree,” Ike said. ”The one who can speak English and French seems like a very worldly bloke, wouldn't you say?”
”Definitely,” Alfred agreed. After a moment, he added, ”For a pygmy.”
”Well, if he is so worldly, then I'd think he's learned the value of worldly riches,” Ike went on. ”You saw the clothes he was wearing.”
”I think you have a very good point,” Alfred said, smiling widely.
”I bet the right amount of cash and a promise of good intentions would get us far with him.”
Nessa's lips drew into a rare smile, and Ike was shocked to see the expression aimed at him. When he returned the grin, doing his best to keep the crocodile out, she did not look away. For a few rich seconds, he looked straight into her dark eyes.
”Let's have a talk with him then,” Alfred declared.
Nessa nodded, her smile fading and her body tightening up once again. She folded her arms in front of her chest. As she turned, Ike found his gaze slipping down her profile.
Lightning flashed and thunder rolled in, cras.h.i.+ng violently across the sky.
Temba's eyes went wide when the first stack of American bills dropped onto the table in front of him. They had got him alone on the porch while the others went in to get out of the rain. All around them, lightning and thunder crashed as the rain poured down in heavy, pounding bullets. Three more stacks of money landed beside the first in rapid succession.
Ike focused on the cornered pygmy, who stared transfixed by the sheer size and number of the bills.
Alfred leaned on the table, cut from a slice of an old tree trunk, and waited for Temba to give a reply.
The small man lifted both hands to his scalp and held them there, as though engaged in a personal struggle.
”I will explain,” Alfred offered. ”My friends and I are looking for a flower that grows in the forest there. We simply want to pick a sample of this flower so that we can use it to make a medicine.”
Temba scoffed. ”Medicine.”
”It's true,” Alfred insisted. ”We are not friends with any of the local militias. In fact, a good friend of mine died at their hands yesterday. We would have no desire to lead them into that forest.”