Part 26 (1/2)

Ike dove onto the creature's shoulders, its body at least twice as long as his. He wrapped both arms around its thick neck, squeezing tight, and planted his feet. The crocodile continued its course to the stream, slowing only slightly. Ike's boots sliced up mud; the sharp ridges of hide ground into his biceps.

Delani raced around them, boots splas.h.i.+ng at the edge of the stream. His pistol came out of its holster and he aimed it down at the crocodile. Ike counted six shots in total, but the animal barely seemed to register the damage. The South African threw his pistol and grabbed the thras.h.i.+ng tail with both arms. It took all his strength combined with Ike's to keep it from retreating with Nessa in its mouth.

Finding itself trapped, the reptile flailed wildly in an attempt to toss off the men. But Ike had a good enough grip that he could reach forward. He took one of its jaws in each of his hands. He yanked, fighting against its vice-like grip. Nessa screamed in agony, struggling helplessly against the grinding maw.

Gilles slipped out the Desert Eagle, a .50 caliber weapon. He crouched beside the struggling Australian, pistol in both hands. The nozzle pressed between the crocodile's eyes.

”Let's see if this gets through,” the Congolese mercenary whispered.

The retort deafened Ike, so close to his ear. Another retort followed. And then another.

Slowly the crocodile stopped flailing. The beast fell limp, legs sprawled in the mud. Its tail whipped one final time. And finally, the muscles of its jaws released. Ike tugged with all his strength. He heard a sick, sucking sound as the teeth pulled out of Nessa's thighs.

Brandon pulled the chemist away. She lay curled in the mud, a trail of blood behind her, her pants mangled beyond recognition. The flesh underneath was torn into ribbons. She gasped, eyes glazed.

The mercenaries surrounded her. They all had rudimentary experience in first aid, but Ike was Special Forces trained so he took charge. Brandon stood back and watched, Raoul beside him, as the mercenaries fished through their supplies. Ike tried ignoring the amount of blood on her legs. The worst damage was not from the tears in her skin and the blood loss, but from the way the powerful jaws had literally crushed her legs.

Nessa moaned quietly, a cold sweat on her forehead. Her eyes met Ike's and she whispered something he couldn't hear.

”Just hold still, luv,” Ike bade her as he unrolled bandages.

The wounds were too high on the thigh for a tourniquet and, besides, such a wrapping would only destroy the leg. His best hope was to apply pressure and bandages and to stop the bleeding. Cool mud seeped through his trousers, contrasting with the hot blood soaking the bandages.

”Avez-vous entendu cela?” Raoul asked in a hushed tone.

Delani and Gilles stood slowly, but Ike couldn't bring himself to turn away from Nessa's wounds.

”Hear what?” Delani asked.

”I heard it too,” Brandon said.

”What was it?”

”Voices . . .”

Delani paused. ”You're sure you didn't imagine it?”

”I'm positive,” Brandon replied. ”They were speaking Swahili.”

Delani crouched behind Ike. He held his .38 across his lap. With his eyes on Nessa, Ike couldn't see his face.

”We have to cross the river,” Delani whispered. ”Now. I'll help you carry her.”

Nessa groaned and shook her head. ”No.” She propped on her elbows, wincing. Mud matted her brown hair to the side of her face. ”I think I can walk on it.”

”I don't know if that's a good idea,” Ike replied.

”There's no time to argue,” Nessa insisted. ”The bone's intact. I'll be limping, but I can do it.”

Delani settled the argument by extending a hand to Nessa. The chemist took it firmly and together they rose to their feet. She hobbled once when she first applied pressure, but with a steadying hand on Ike's shoulder she recovered her balance.

As they headed to the water's edge, Delani took up a post at the rear. He held his pistol ready and watched the forest, ready to fire when the militia showed their faces. Gilles held Ike's gun at the ready and led the way into the stream. He waded slowly, feeling each step tentatively with his feet.

Soon the water reached his waist. He looked back to the others and gestured for them to follow.

Raoul stepped in next, his feet splas.h.i.+ng lightly. Ike winced at the noise, wondering if the militia soldiers were close enough to hear them.

By the time Gilles reached the opposite embankment, wet to his chest, Raoul was halfway across. Brandon stood on Nessa's other side, even after she refused his help, as Ike guided her into the stream. Cool water splashed around his ankles, swirling with algae. Ike tried not to think about what hidden dangers lay within the stream.

They heard quiet voices in Swahili. They were coming up the edge of the river. Ike glanced back at the reptilian corpse on the water's edge, an obvious clue for any trackers.

Nessa whimpered when the cold water hit her thigh. She braced herself against Ike, and he felt her body trembling. He slid an arm around her back and let her lean on him, even as he urged her faster across the river.

Soon the water reached his abdomen. Although the stream flowed sluggishly, the current pushed him and he had to fight to stay on his feet. Something jagged brushed his ankle. A branch, he hoped.

When they reached the opposite bank, the group plunged into the thick undergrowth. It took considerable force to push through the rigid branches, but they soon emerged into the dark forest where they took a moment to catch their breath.

Nessa pressed close to Ike, her lips not far from his ear. ”Did you stop the bleeding?” she whispered.

”I think I got most of it,” he replied. In truth, he could tell from looking at her bandages, that water wasn't the only thing soaking through. The wound needed constant pressure to control the bleeding, but too much pressure could aggravate the damage to her muscle and bone.

Ike pressed the wound on his bicep. He had tied it loosely with a torn bandage.

Tense moments pa.s.sed while they waited for Delani. But soon enough the scarred mercenary pressed through the leaves. He held up an a.s.sault rifle toward Ike. ”You forgot something.”

Ike blinked. He couldn't remember the last time he'd forgotten his gun. He had dropped it when the crocodile attacked Nessa. ”Thanks, mate.”

Together they headed east along the north river bank, looking back for signs of their pursuers.

23.

Why did her head hurt so d.a.m.n much?

She wished for a gla.s.s of water or a bed. Her back and shoulders ached from pressing awkwardly against the post and floor. As exhausted as she was, she only managed to nod off a few times, and only for a few minutes.

Sam sat against the post, having given up all hope of finding sleep. Instead, she peered out the front door onto the porch to where her Mbuti guards stood making quiet conversation.

After a bit of effort, she had managed to reach her cell phone and drag it close to her with an outstretched foot. She fiddled with it a bit, in the off chance that Guy was wrong and it did work. It showed no signs of life and the more she studied it, the more she wondered why Guy had left it in the first place. It seemed that everything he did was part of some mind game. He took her watch to make time stretch out. He took her wallet, her ident.i.ty, and her wedding ring to make her husband seem far away. He repeated her name over and over again, as if his speaking it gave him some sort of control over her. She only ate or drank when he came to visit and the only bit of comfort he offered her lay in his bed. He made sure she was totally and absolutely dependent on him. And as her hunger and thirst grew with each pa.s.sing hour, she found herself longing for another visit, if only to eat.

She wondered what would happen if she stayed there for weeks, or even months. So far, she felt in control; but after so much time, would she submit to him? How long could she go before her survival instincts took over? Her stomach turned at the thought, that she might be manipulated in such a way. Trained, like a puppy. She dismissed the possibility and resolved she wouldn't let it happen.

She could tell by listening to the way the voices echoed whether the Mbuti were facing inside or away. She waited and listened until they sounded wrapped in their conversation and weren't paying attention to the darkness inside. Then, she leaned forward and bit down on the leather thong. Her front teeth ground against the dirty fabric and she twisted it against the sharp points of her canines, trying to slowly cut through.

The strength of the leather proved too much, even after working at it for several long minutes. Her lips brushed along the length of the thong to see if she made any progress, but she couldn't find a single nick in the smooth surface.

There had to be some way to cut through it. She'd need to find a sharper edge. She leaned back and gripped the post between her wrists. Maybe she could snap it. Sam wrapped her legs around the base of the pole and thrust the top half of her body back, wrenching her hands against the round trunk. The tension forced her wrists apart and the thong bit into her hands. She yanked more forcefully, hoping a quick jerk would snap the leather.