Part 17 (1/2)

”I hear a bee,” he said. He again swatted at his ears, growing more confused when he didn't connect with anything. ”It sounds like it is right by my ear.”

”I don't see anything,” she said.

But Temba did not relent. He crawled quickly to the tent flap, drawing the zipper shut. Then he sat back down and listened again. With the tent flap closed they were left in darkness.

”You can't hear it?” Temba asked.

She strained, searching for a noise. She heard the distant sound of running water and even faint whispering from the tent nearby.

Something brushed against her leg. Leathery skin twisted against her ankle. Startled, she yanked her foot back, tucking her legs underneath her. An angry hiss rose up in the tent.

In the darkness, a black, ropelike silhouette rose into the air between the three of them. It wavered, fully supported even as it reached a height of three feet. The serpent lunged and Sam tumbled backward over Brandon. Temba was up in a flash.

The lunge proved to be no more than a warning. The snake was back up, hissing out a threat. Its eyes locked on Sam, and it moved toward her. She could not believe the strength in the muscles that held the creature's head so high up, towering in the tall tent. It loomed over her, ready to strike.

Brandon lifted a blanket and tossed it over the snake. The heavy wool crashed down on the serpent's head, tugging the creature down. She could see the lump in the fabric where the snake pushed angrily, trying to escape.

But before it could slip out the sides, Brandon threw his weight down on the blanket, pinning the corners with his knees and hands. The snake's body whipped around underneath as it searched for a way out. The blanket was slack on the sides. It was only a matter of time before it found one of those holes.

Temba jumped down, blocking off one exit with his arm and reaching out across with the other. Sam did the same. Moments later, the serpentine head crashed against her arm, her skin protected by the blanket.

”Hit it with something!” Temba cried.

Before anyone could act, the snake turned around and with incredible speed lunged out of the opposite side. Once free it twisted back, fangs bared. All three of them leapt back trying to keep away from its angry mouth. Sam's feet twisted in the blankets, slowing her escape. She crashed down helplessly.

The snake turned on Temba. As it lunged he leapt back, cras.h.i.+ng into the side of the tent. Metal snapped, cracking loudly, and in the next instant the entire tent came down on their heads. Sam flailed her arms, drowning in a nylon sea. The snake's hissing never ended, and as she struggled to get out, the tent tugged back, yanked by the struggles of the three others.

Something struck Sam's leg. Her heart leapt.

She heard fabric ripping nearby. A hand squeezed her wrist. At first she tried pulling away. But the hand was too strong. She was yanked roughly, nearly tugging her arm from its socket, and soon she was sliding out across the muddy ground.

When she looked up, Ike stood over her, one hand wrapped around her wrist and the other hand holding a long knife. Nessa stood to Ike's right, looking bewildered. Ike looked back to the tent with cold determination.

Sam propped herself up on her elbows and watched as Ike ran back to the pile of fabric that remained of the tent. Inside Brandon and Temba flailed and the snake hissed. Ike dug the knife into one side of the pile and tore the nylon in one broad stroke. Brandon rolled out of the opening and Ike pulled him roughly to his feet.

Alfred, Raoul, and Kuntolo appeared behind Sam. Alfred struggled to put on his gla.s.ses.

Ike circled the tent, moving toward the last form. He jabbed the knife roughly into the tent and cut a third gash. Temba sprang free, crawling away with all haste. A green serpent slithered after him, gliding over the muddy ground. It lifted its head to strike Temba's backside.

But Ike proved faster. He swung the knife in a wide arc, the long blade connecting just under the serpent's chin. The hissing stopped and something popped. The cordlike torso fell heavily onto the ground, twisting about aimlessly. The serpentine head bounced away, fangs snapping a few times before life faded completely.

Brandon gasped, holding his chest. He wiped the mud from his body. Sam did the same as she climbed to her feet. She watched the ground cautiously, alert for another snake.

”The snake's dead,” Ike said.

”That's not a snake,” Temba protested. ”Mamba.”

Sam had heard stories of the black mamba, the most venomous snake in Africa. But this snake was green.

Alfred walked over cautiously to inspect. He bent over and prodded the snake's body with his hook. The serpent remained limp and headless. ”Was anyone bitten?” he asked, looking up.

Sam, Brandon, and Temba all shook their heads.

The chemist breathed a sigh of relief. ”Its venom kills in less than five minutes.”

Sam chilled, remembering the feel of its leathery skin on her ankle. Around her, every stick and vine wanted to spring to life in the form of a green snake. The babbling of the nearby river even sounded serpentine.

”I can still hear it,” Brandon said.

”Hear what?” Alfred asked.

”It's a buzzing,” he replied. ”It's not a bee though. I've heard it before.”

Alfred shook his head, confused. ”I don't hear it.”

”I do,” Nessa said. ”I hear it. I've heard it before, too. It's not a bee. It's in your head.”

”It's not in my head,” Temba protested. ”How could we all hear it-?”

”I don't know,” Nessa answered. ”But it sounds like power lines.”

”Power lines?” Ike asked. ”In the jungle?”

Three rapid bangs sounded heavily, causing everyone to jump. Ike crouched down reflexively, pulling his pistol out.

”What the h.e.l.l was that?” Brandon asked.

”Automatic weapon,” Ike answered. ”And close.”

Gilles smelled the faint scent of gun smoke. The firearm warmed in his hands. His eyes scanned the shadows around him. The light had materialized from nowhere. It charged straight for him, closing rapidly, although never quite reaching him. Gilles had opened fire, a single three-round burst. He could not be sure if he hit the light, or even if it had any substance to hit, but it vanished as quickly as it came, leaving him once again alone in the darkness.

Eyes peeked out of the dark foliage and every leaf became a sinister face. They leered at him. Gilles trembled, wondering where his imagination ended and reality began. He could not remember being this frightened since he was a little boy. This wasn't the type of fear you faced in battle. Instead it was a pure, helpless terror; that fear of the inexplicable, of the unknown.

As he spun, his eyes caught a shape in the darkness. Gilles began to make out arms and legs, a torso and head. The shadow solidified into a three-dimensional form, translucent but palpable. The apparition had no distinguishable facial features and no defined musculature or clothing.

He froze, staring at the figure. With certainty, he knew it was there, but still could not wrap his mind around the idea. Surely he was seeing a ghost. Its face gave no clue as to whether it looked at him or even knew he was there. The two stood completely motionless.

Watch out.

He could not tell if the warning was his own or if the specter was trying to communicate.

”Gilles?”

Gilles.

The mercenary tore his eyes away from the shadow, turning toward the source of the voice, rifle raised. He saw only darkness, but began to hear the crunching footfalls of someone approaching.

”Gilles? Where are you?”

The voice sounded like Delani's, but Gilles couldn't be sure. In that instance his doubts felt compounded. He couldn't trust anything. Don't trust everything you see or hear. A hushed warning followed the voice, echoing through the trees. The footfalls fell silent.