Deadfall: Agent 21

by Ryan, Chris

  Instantly, Zak ripped his gaze away from the leopard. He could still see it from the corner of his eye, though – a yellow and black blur nestled in the dark green foliage.

  Seconds passed. They felt like hours. Zak forced himself to breathe, slowly and steadily, but he could feel the tremors as he inhaled.

  The leopard stayed perfectly still. So did the humans.

  The only noise was the rushing of the stream.

  Movement.

  Zak couldn’t help his eyes flickering towards the leopard. He saw the lithe, sinewy body turning 180 degrees as the big cat slunk away into the forest.

  Nobody moved or even spoke for a good thirty seconds.

  It was Raf who finally broke the silence. ‘We need to drink and wash, then get away from the water,’ he said very quietly. ‘It’s obviously a watering hole, and that leopard won’t be the only animal that uses it.’

  ‘What if it comes back?’ Malcolm had an edge of panic in his voice. His glasses were wonky on his face, and had steamed up slightly.

  ‘I don’t think it will. It doesn’t want a fight any more than we do. Don’t drink the water till I’ve checked a few metres upstream for dead animals.’

  Raf started walking carefully towards the stream. Zak was reluctant to follow – the roar of the leopard was still echoing in his ears and he could still see those sharp teeth in his mind – but his throat was parched; he needed water. A minute later, when Raf had announced it safe, he was kneeling by the river bank, filling his cupped hands with cool water and glugging it back.

  He had just swallowed his third mouthful of water when he felt a sharp pain in the side of his abdomen. ‘Ouch!’ he hissed. His fingers felt towards the location of the pain. There was a bulge beneath his shirt, the size of a golf ball.

  Gingerly, he lifted the shirt up.

  It looked like a slug, only bigger. And it was clamped fast to his skin! As Zak lifted his shirt a bit higher, he realized that although it was the biggest, it wasn’t the only one. There were eight more of these slug-like creatures, each the size of his thumbnail, suckered onto his skin.

  ‘Er, Gabs,’ he said quietly. The other three were all bending down and drinking. ‘Gabs!’

  She looked over her shoulder, her eyes narrowed and she stood up. ‘OK, sweetie,’ she said. ‘Try not to panic. They’re leeches. They probably attached themselves to you when you brushed past them in the bush.’

  Malcolm was looking at Zak’s abdomen with wide eyes. He scrambled to raise his own shirt and a look of relief passed his face when he saw nothing, but then he frowned. Bending down, he rolled up his right trouser leg. Sure enough, four or five of the revolting little beasts had stuck themselves to his skin. He whimpered and tried to pull one of them off. It wouldn’t shift. ‘Get off!’ he shouted. ‘Get them off me!’

  ‘Leave it,’ Gabs said sharply. ‘They’ll fall off by themselves when they’ve drunk enough blood.’

  Malcolm turned white.

  ‘She’s right, mate,’ Raf added. ‘They’re not as bad as they look. I saw one in Borneo once, had eight big teeth and feeds off the mucus up your nose . . .’

  ‘Raf!’ Gabs said. ‘That’s not helpful. Seriously, Malcolm, we’ve probably all got them. They’ll have fallen off by nightfall.’ She pointed at the especially large leech on Zak’s side. ‘But that’s a bull leech. It’ll get three times bigger than that if we let it, and could hurt a lot. We need to deal with it.’

  Zak felt a bit faint as he nodded and lowered his shirt over the bull leech. ‘How?’ he asked.

  ‘We’ll burn it off. But let’s find somewhere to make camp first. It’ll be dark in a couple of hours and it’ll take us that long to make a shelter.’ She turned to Raf. ‘We should get away from the water before feeding time.’

  Raf nodded and, wordlessly, led them back up the way they’d come.

  Zak felt as though his whole body was crawling with creatures as they navigated from tree notch to tree notch, and he could see that Malcolm, up ahead, was trembling. The patch of skin where the bull leech was sucking his blood throbbed painfully. He resisted touching it through his shirt to see how fat it was getting.

  Keep your mind on the jungle, he told himself as they continued to trek. Don’t let your concentration lapse.

  Twenty minutes passed before Raf stopped again. They found themselves in a small clearing, about five metres by five. The canopy overhead was still thick, but the ground was fairly clear. The trees all around were covered with large palm leaves. ‘Wait here,’ Raf said, before disappearing into the jungle again. He returned a couple of minutes later. ‘Cruz’s path is about thirty metres away,’ he said. ‘We’re still on the ridge line, so water can’t run down towards us.’ He bent over, scraped some leaves away from a patch of ground and touched the earth. ‘Dry,’ he said. ‘We’ll be OK here if there’s another rainstorm.’

  Zak looked up. There were no dangerous-looking branches, no trees that seemed likely to come tumbling down on them. ‘No deadfall,’ he said.

  Raf nodded his agreement. ‘How’s that leech?’ he asked.

  Zak carefully lifted his shirt. He saw, to his horror, that the bull leech had almost doubled in size. So too had the smaller leeches. He couldn’t help wondering if he had any blood left.

  ‘Let’s get a fire going,’ Raf said. ‘Zak, Gabs, we need dry wood. Malcolm, stay with me. We’ll cut down some palm leaves to make a shelter.’

  After the rainstorm they’d had, Zak didn’t much fancy their chances of finding dry wood. But in fact, in this elevated position, it was plentiful. That didn’t make collecting it easy. ‘Just stick to the edge of the clearing, keeping us in view, and careful what you pick up,’ Gabs told him. ‘Snakes like to hide in the shade of log piles. Don’t pick up a puff adder by mistake.’

  Zak gave her a sick look, then went about his business very cautiously.

  Fifteen minutes later, each had collected an armful of wood and Raf had constructed the frame of a shelter. It was the shape of an A-frame tent, made from long, straight branches lashed together with natural cordage that he had stripped from a tree, and only just big enough for the four of them to lie under it. Raf and Malcolm had collected a pile of massive palm leaves, each of them almost Zak’s height. They were splitting them down the middle then laying them, fronds down, across the shelter, like tiles on a roof.

  ‘It’s not much,’ Raf said, ‘but it’ll keep the rain off us. Let’s get that fire going.’

  Zak was glad of the hip-flask full of petrol. By dribbling some of it over a nest of twigs he was able to get their fire kindled in next to no time. ‘Keep it small,’ Gabs told him. ‘It’ll be easier to control. We don’t need much.’ Zak nodded his agreement and started laying slightly larger bits of wood over the little blaze in a wigwam formation. Minutes later, the fire was flickering thirty centimetres high.

  ‘Let’s have a look at that leech now, sweetie,’ Gabs said.

  Zak raised his shirt again. The disgusting, slug-like creature was larger than a tennis ball now and its black-grey skin glistened unpleasantly. While Zak was looking at it, one of the smaller leeches suddenly fell off his skin, leaving an ugly red welt with a small pinprick in the centre where it had sucked at his blood.

  Gabs took a thin twig and stabbed one end into the heart of the fire. Thirty seconds later she pulled it out. The tip was glowing red hot. ‘Stay still, sweetie,’ she murmured. Then she pressed the burning tip into the flesh of the bull leech. It squirmed suddenly. Zak winced as the pain suddenly grew worse, but Gabs kept the burning stick firmly against the leech. In a matter of seconds, it popped off Zak’s flesh and flopped to the ground. Instantly, Zak stamped his heel on it. The leech exploded in a squelch of innards and Zak’s own blood. Then Gabs removed the remaining leeches, which fell off at the slightest touch of the hot twig.

  Malcolm had rolled up his trouser leg and was looking in disgust at his own leeches. They too had doubled in size. Gabs walked over to him and, still using the s
ame burning twig, popped them all off.

  ‘Better?’ Gabs asked him.

  Malcolm nodded so fast that he had to stop his glasses falling off his face.

  ‘Do you want me to do you?’ Zak asked.

  Gabs shook her head. ‘I think I got away with it,’ she said.

  ‘Where’s Raf?’

  They looked around. There was no sign of him, but Gabs didn’t look worried. ‘He’s probably gone off to find some food for us all. Come here, Malcolm, I want to look at that wound of yours.’

  Malcolm sat by the fire. He looked in a bad way; all the colour had drained from his already pale face, and he seemed to be trembling. He refused to look Gabs in the eye as she carefully undid the makeshift dressing to examine his wounded elbow.

  The sight of it turned Zak’s stomach. The gash itself looked fairly clean, but the flesh was raw and glistening. Worst of all, it seemed to be moving. He took a closer look. He could see four – no, five – tiny maggots wriggling around in the gore.

  ‘Oh my . . .’

  ‘What is it?’ Malcolm demanded. ‘What is it? What is it?’ He wriggled his arm free of Gabs’s grip and held the elbow up at an awkward angle so he could see it. His eyes bulged. ‘Get them off me,’ he screeched, looking at Zak in desperation. ‘Get them off me!’

  ‘No,’ Gabs said sharply. She grabbed Malcolm’s wrist again, holding it firm. ‘Listen carefully, Malcolm. I know it’s not very nice, but at the moment those maggots are your best friends. They only eat dead and decaying flesh. They’re keeping the wound nice and clean for you. I’m not saying it won’t get infected. It’s very likely, in this temperature and humidity. But removing the maggots will only make it worse.’

  Malcolm stared at her like she was insane.

  ‘She’s right, mate,’ Zak said quietly. ‘We’ll clean it properly when we have medical supplies. But for now . . .’

  Malcolm’s chin drooped to his chest in defeat. Looking sick, he said nothing, but allowed Gabs to bind the wound again.

  She was just finishing up when Raf reappeared. He was carrying what looked like a big lump of tree bark. ‘Anyone hungry?’ he asked brightly.

  Zak watched him suspiciously as he sauntered over, and joined them sitting round the fire. He rested the lump of bark on his crossed legs.

  Zak peered in. He wished he hadn’t. It was a seething cauldron of bloated white grubs, not unlike the maggots in Malcolm’s elbow, only ten times fatter.

  ‘Palm grubs,’ Raf said. ‘Fantastic source of protein. Actually, they’re a delicacy in some parts of the world. I was pretty lucky to find them.’

  There was a stunned silence round the camp fire. Then Malcolm shot to his feet and stormed over to the edge of the clearing.

  ‘You don’t have to eat them raw,’ Raf shouted. ‘I’ll cook them if you like!’

  Malcolm folded his arms and stared out into the jungle with his back to them.

  Raf looked at Zak and Gabs, his eyes wide with innocence. Gabs’s expression was flinty. ‘Was it something I said?’ he asked.

  When night falls in the jungle, it falls quickly. You need to be ready.

  Zak was surprised by how suddenly the darkness surrounded them. One moment the sound of the insects was deafening as they struck up their evening chorus. The four of them huddled around their little fire, which Raf kept going with lumps of moss to create smoke. ‘It’ll keep some of the mosquitoes away,’ he’d said. Maybe, but Zak still felt like he was being eaten alive.

  The next moment it was dark. The insects had risen to the top of the jungle canopy. Everything was silent.

  They fed the small fire from the pile of wood they’d collected. It was more welcome for its light than for its heat. Zak looked at the tired faces of his companions, and realized they all needed to sleep. Especially Malcolm, who nursed his wounded arm and was looking paler by the minute.

  ‘We’ll keep watch in two-hour sessions,’ Raf said when Zak suggested sleep to him. ‘I’ll go first, then Gabs, then you. I think we’ll have a good twelve hours of darkness, so that means two watches each.’ Nobody questioned why he hadn’t included Malcolm in the rota. He was staring into the heart of the fire, and didn’t look like he’d even heard them.

  An animal screeched nearby. Zak started, then drew a deep breath. ‘How much further do you think we have to go?’ he asked.

  ‘Hard to say, without knowing our destination. But wherever Cruz was headed, it can’t be far. Nobody takes a vehicle a very long way off-road through primary jungle. It’s just too difficult. My guess is we’ll catch up with him tomorrow.’ Raf’s eyes narrowed. ‘I’m looking forward to asking our young drug lord a few questions.’

  Zak said nothing. The thought of seeing Cruz again knotted his stomach more than anything the jungle could throw at him. And he didn’t share Raf’s calm eagerness. Cruz was clever. Very clever. Whatever the next day held, it was unlikely to be straightforward.

  And very likely to be dangerous.

  He felt Gabs’s hand on his shoulder. ‘Get some sleep, sweetie,’ she said. ‘You too, Malcolm. We’ll wake you when the time comes.’

  Zak nodded. He pushed himself to his feet and walked over to the A-frame shelter, where he stretched himself out on the ground, his head at the fire end. Malcolm did the same, lying right next to him, uncomfortably close. Within minutes, Zak’s companion was asleep.

  Zak, though, found it harder to nod off on this uncomfortable ground, with so many thoughts and worries whizzing through his head. He rolled onto his front. Beyond the fire, at the edge of the clearing, he saw Raf and Gabs standing apart, talking quietly. He wondered what was so secret that they had to say it out of earshot, and for a moment he resented them.

  But then a wave of tiredness crashed unexpectedly over him. In seconds, he was asleep.

  He woke with a start. Gabs was shaking him gently.

  He sat up, half expecting to be back on St Peter’s Crag, and not understanding where he really was. Then it all came flooding back, and his stomach knotted itself again.

  ‘What time is it?’ he breathed. The inside of his mouth was dry, and he felt caked in dried sweat.

  ‘Midnight,’ Gabs said.

  Zak crawled out of the shelter. He noticed that Raf was sleeping soundly on the other side of Malcolm. He brushed himself down, then nodded at Gabs who took his place in the shelter. Then he stepped over to the fire and sat by it, cross-legged, glad of the warmth now, even though it was still humid in the jungle.

  He couldn’t see the edges of the clearing, which freaked him out. Sitting by the glow of the flickering fire, he felt that a million eyes could be watching him, while he would never see anyone – or anything. He let the flickering blaze die down a little, and sat for twenty minutes by the glowing embers, lost in thought, trying to drive images of snarling leopards and gruesome warning dolls from his mind.

  Then he shook himself back to reality. The fire was very low and he needed to feed it. He pushed himself back up to his feet and stepped five paces towards the pile of wood he and Gabs had collected. He bent down in the darkness to grab a piece.

  He knew, as soon as his fingers came in contact with it, that he hadn’t touched a log. It was dry and smooth, and had a little give to it, like a piece of hard rubber.

  And it hissed.

  Zak snapped his hand away, just in time to hear a sudden slithering sound. He could just make out the shadow of a snake’s head rearing up.

  He froze.

  Time stood still.

  The snake hissed again and Zak’s blood thumped harder through his veins.

  Should he run? Get to the other side of the fire. No. He would startle the snake, make it more likely to strike. And he knew he couldn’t outrun it.

  He was holding his breath, unwilling to make even the slightest sound or movement.

  His pumping blood was ice cold. It was going to strike any second. Surely . . .

  Movement. The snake was lowering its body.

  Zak heard the
soft shimmer of scales rubbing together. The dark, reptilian shadow moved like oozing treacle. It slid away from the log pile, towards Zak himself. With a sound like a knife being sharpened on a steel, it slid between Zak’s feet. He felt it brush his shoe. Very slowly, he looked over his shoulder. The snake was a good metre and a half long and no thicker than a Smarties tube. Now it was edging round the remains of the fire and off out into the clearing.

  Zak exhaled very slowly. Every limb was trembling. He stood there for a full minute before he even dared to move. Now he could hardly bring himself to take another log from the woodpile. Not without knowing exactly what he was touching.

  What was it Gabs had said before they set out from the landing strip? You need to think before you do anything.

  Good advice for life. But excellent advice, he now realized, in the jungle.

  He looked around. The AK-47 with the Maglite taped to the body was lying a couple of metres from the fire. He picked it up, then shone the torch’s beam in the direction of the wood pile. By the bright light he satisfied himself that there were no more unwanted guests. Then he grabbed a couple more bits of wood and set them back on the fire.

  He settled down again, still shaking. Morning couldn’t come quickly enough.

  10

  PRUSIK

  The mosquitoes, hovering above the canopy, announced the arrival of dawn minutes before the sunlight reached the forest floor. But Zak was still awake, his head filled with thoughts of long, thin snakes and short, fat leeches.

  Raf was stoking more moss on the fire to make smoke.

  Zak decided not to mention the snake. Both Raf and Gabs seemed edgy, and he didn’t see the sense in giving them anything more to worry about.

  ‘At least we made it till morning without any more rain,’ he said.

  Raf grunted.

  ‘Does that really keep insects away?’ Zak asked, pointing at the moss. He showed Raf his arm, which was covered with angry, purple welts. ‘They’ve had a pretty good go at me.’

  ‘It would be worse without the smoke,’ Raf said quietly as the fire began to billow. ‘Probably.’ He looked over to where Gabs and Malcolm were still asleep in the shelter. ‘I meant what I said last night,’ Raf continued. ‘I think there’s a good chance we’ll catch up with Cruz today. If we do, make sure you don’t act without thinking. I know you two have a history, but just keep your wits about you, OK?’