by Andy Briggs
“You’re making a mistake,” Jane muttered, not taking her eyes off him.
Baxter hesitated. There was a hint of wild rage behind the girl’s blue eyes. Something feral that unsettled him. He quickly composed himself and led Robbie to a secure room without another word.
• • •
Jane sat sullenly as Greystoke told Archie and Clark that Robbie was wanted in connection to the death of his sister and attempted murder of his stepfather. Archie was shocked and Clark admitted to having suspicions about the boy since he’d found him stowed away on the freighter that had brought the loggers to Africa. He’d never spoken up, believing that most people deserved a second chance.
Jane tried to tell them the truth. Robbie’s younger sister, Sophie, had died of neglect under the hands of his drunken mother and abusive stepfather. Robbie had found her dead and attacked his stepfather, then fled America. Robbie had thought he’d accidentally killed his stepfather, but the burden of murder had been lifted from his shoulders when he discovered the man was still alive. However, his stepfather had twisted the facts and accused Robbie of murdering Sophie and attempting to murder him, neatly shifting the blame from himself and getting revenge in one fell swoop.
Archie and Clark found Jane’s explanation dubious, although Clark was willing to give Robbie the benefit of the doubt and wanted to talk to him.
“I’m afraid that is not possible,” said Greystoke flatly.
“I don’t see why not,” said Archie, keen to ease tensions now that a deal with Greystoke had been agreed upon.
“Because Mr. Canler is a liability,” said Greystoke. “I have given Baxter full authority to keep him here until I return. Then we will ship him to the United States—”
“You’ll just keep him prisoner here?” Jane was aghast.
Greystoke waved his hand dismissively and continued. “Where he will face legal proceedings. And much better here than locked in some Congolese jail, don’t you think?” He placed a hand on Jane’s shoulder and smiled warmly. “Whatever you may think of me, I am no monster. He’ll be treated well.”
Jane shucked him off. “It’s rather strange that Baxter tracked him down here, isn’t it? Here at your mine. Quite a coincidence.”
Greystoke’s smile vanished so suddenly Jane wondered if she had imagined it. “I placed my life in the hands of that accused murderer, and he deliberately led us astray. I think your father would be relieved not to have his only daughter mix with such company.” He smiled as he turned to Archie. “Perhaps you should return to your camp and explain what has happened. They will be worried.”
Clark wagged his finger. “Now wait a second, pal. You ain’t shipping us off just so we have to rely on your good word that you didn’t find anythin’ at Opar. Besides, it ain’t like I’ll be drawin’ you a map, is it?”
“Very well, you come along and lead the way.” His eyes darted to Clark’s injured leg. “I only hope you don’t slow us down.” He turned to Archie. “And perhaps you could stay here with your daughter and await our return?”
Archie considered for a moment before nodding in agreement. Jane wanted to insist on going with them—but she couldn’t leave Robbie to his fate. Already she was trying to concoct a plan to spring him from Greystoke’s prison. It was times like this when she really needed Tarzan to show up. She hoped he wouldn’t let her down now.
An hour later, Greystoke’s safari was under way. Werper and Idra had spent most of the night putting together the equipment. It was more than they could carry alone, so six Mbuti pygmies had been enlisted as porters. Idra was apparently some kind of expedition expert and had packed food, a satellite phone, a pair of rafts, which could be inflated into rigid-hulled powerboats to navigate the endless jungle rivers, and several waterproof boxes filled with Werper’s scientific gear.
Clark had asked why the helicopter or floatplane couldn’t be used to take them the whole way; it would have been easier to identify the volcano from the air. Greystoke had explained that they were traveling beyond the chopper’s range; plus, there was no likelihood of finding a clear patch of ground to which they could be airdropped even half the way. The plane had a longer range, but again there was no guarantee they could find a stretch of water safe enough to land on. Worst-case, the machines were on standby should they need to be airlifted out in a hurry—at least if they were on the ground they could clear a landing area or judge if a body of water had any unwelcome surprises just below the surface.
Archie put his arm around Jane’s shoulder as Clark, Greystoke, Werper, Idra, and the six porters crossed the muddy mining site and disappeared into the jungle.
“I’m kinda glad we’re not hacking our way through there,” said Archie with forced levity. “I’ve done enough jungle to last me a lifetime.”
Jane didn’t say anything. She was hatching a plan to follow the group once she had freed Robbie.
• • •
Although Archie acted relaxed, Jane knew he was keeping a sharp eye on her. Edward hovered around, now flanked by two large Congolese security guards with unsmiling faces. Another was permanently positioned outside the cabin Robbie was housed in. Jane saw Baxter twice, no doubt eager not to stray too far from his payday. Freeing Robbie was going to be tougher than she had anticipated. The easiest approach was to wait until nightfall then sneak her way past the guard, but for every minute she wasted, Greystoke was a step closer to the Savage Lands, Tarzan, and potentially destroying the apes’ home.
Several times, Jane thought she caught movement in the trees and her heart jumped with excitement, convinced it was Tarzan. But if the ape-man didn’t show himself, it was for reasons she couldn’t understand. The movement was becoming so frequent that she realized she’d probably been watching monkeys at play in the trees. The thought that Tarzan wasn’t about to save the day made her more resolved than ever. It was up to her.
Toward lunchtime, the Mbuti workers stopped and took shelter in the canteen from the beating sun. Archie tried to cajole Jane into eating, but she refused. He knew better than to argue with her, so sat with Edward to eat. Baxter joined them, and soon the three men were talking animatedly.
This was her chance. The lone security guard sat outside the cabin, everybody else was distracted by their hungry bellies. She had to act now, but was still stuck for a plan. She had found a pair of bolt cutters she hoped could slice through Robbie’s handcuffs, but they were useless against the security goon, who was almost twice her size. There was no way she could beat him in a fight. She looked around, desperate for something—anything—to reveal itself. Then she saw it, her weapon of choice.
Double-checking the coast was clear, Jane darted across the muddy site, almost losing her balance. She hid behind a bulldozer. Peering over the dirty yellow monstrosity to check that she hadn’t been seen, she gripped the external handrails and hauled herself into the cab. Her foot slipped on the wide mud-slick caterpillar tracks, and—for one precarious moment—she was hanging from the cab, legs flailing. She regained her foothold and hoisted herself into the driver’s seat. It bounced under her weight, a series of springs and tension cables designed to give the driver a smooth ride no matter what the terrain.
She had sat in the cab of the bulldozer at Karibu Mji many times, although she had been forbidden to drive it. It had been a rare place of solitude. Her hand found the seat adjustment control, which had been set up for the short stature of the Mbuti who had been driving. The key was in the ignition and she had watched Mr. David and the loggers drive their dozer so many times that she had a rough idea of what to do.
When Jane turned the key, the machine shuddered to life, black smoke spewing from the stack at the back of the cab as she revved the engine. She glanced through the grubby windshield and saw everybody was still inside eating, and not paying the slightest bit of attention to her. The sound of machinery at the mine was so common that nobody would question it.
She found the throttle lever on the right and slid it forward, the engine responding with a satisfying roar. This machine was much more advanced than the one back at camp, but the basic principles looked the same. Jane gripped the control lever and pushed forward—the machine moved without question. It gently rocked over the uneven terrain, but it felt more comfortable than most cars she had been in. The blade at the front of the dozer grazed the ground, which would only slow her down, so Jane pulled the right-hand joystick back to raise it and felt the machine spur on a little faster.
Still, nobody paid any attention to the bulldozer speeding toward them. Jane jogged the controls to the left, changing direction toward the cabin Robbie was in. Her thumb found the gear selector switch on the joystick and she moved up a gear, the dozer gaining pace. It was all automatic, so there was no messing with a clutch. In fact it was almost too late when she remembered the only pedal she needed was the decelerator, which served more as a brake.
She jogged the joystick to the left some more, lining up both the canteen and cabin in her sights. The guard looked up twice before thinking anything was amiss. Jane raised the bulldozer blade farther up and punched the horn when she was just yards away.
Now everybody turned to see the bulldozer veering toward them. She was relieved to see Archie move first, pulling Baxter to his feet as the bulldozer’s blade slammed into the side and roof of the canteen. She didn’t want to hurt anyone, just create a diversion. She could only imagine her father’s complaints if he was hurt.
Inside, Jane barely felt a jolt as the dozer tore through the canteen’s supporting wall—half outside, half inside. Workers fled as the caterpillar track flattened the tables they had been eating at. Wood groaned and the roof suddenly collapsed at an angle since there was one less wall to support it. Jane had noticed it was made from thin panels, designed to do nothing more than keep the rain out, so as it collapsed on the fleeing workers within, she hoped they wouldn’t suffer anything more severe than a few bruises. But, if Tarzan had taught her anything, it was that only the wiliest survived.
Just fifteen feet ahead was the cabin with Robbie inside. She saw the guard pull a sidearm pistol—obviously following strict orders—and fire at her. She ducked, hitting the horn again and praying the stubborn guard would move aside in time.
The first bullet pinged off the blade; the second shattered the toughened windshield, spraying her with safety glass. Still crouched low, she couldn’t see where she was going, but through the open side door she saw the guard leap into the mud to avoid being crushed. She reached for the horn again, but missed as the cab jolted when it struck the cabin. She only hoped Robbie had heard her coming.
The blade tore a chunk from the side of the cabin and the structure collapsed against the vehicle. Jane killed the engine, preventing the cabin from falling any further. Robbie had jumped into the far corner of what proved to be a supply room. He looked at her with wide eyes and for a moment Jane thought he was about to run from her. Then he burst into laughter.
“We’re gonna be in so much trouble!” he quipped as he clambered over fallen crates, stepping up into the cab. The handcuffs hampered him and when he reached Jane, she pulled the bolt cutters from the floor. Jamming the chain between the blades, she squeezed the cutter’s arms together and the chain broke after a brief resistance. Robbie still had the two cuffs on his wrists, but at least he was free to move.
“Come on!” said Jane breathlessly, still not quite believing her plan had worked. “We’re going to have to run.”
They leaped from the cab, splashing into the mud, and sprinted for the trees. It was a slog, their feet bogging down with each step. Behind, the workforce was still escaping from the collapsed canteen. The crowd was jostling Archie and only the three burly guards had enough presence of mind to race toward the fleeing figures.
“Come on!” encouraged Jane, as Robbie almost tumbled in the mud. The trees were just ahead.
Then from behind, Baxter’s voice carried across the site. “Shoot them! Don’t let them get away!”
Jane risked a glance behind as two of the guards drew their pistols. The one Jane had almost flattened ran toward them with an expression of hatred. Shots suddenly rang out as one of the guards opened fire—but he was too wide, intent on not shooting his comrade.
“In the leg, you moron!” Baxter screamed. “Don’t kill them!”
Jane ducked as she ran. Another glance behind and she saw her father launch from the canteen wreckage and tackle the shooter into the mud.
“NO!” yelled Archie as he fell hard onto the goon.
Baxter was just behind him, focused on Robbie. But he tripped over the fallen men and landed flat on his face in the mud and found himself entangled with the raging Archie.
“WHOA!” Robbie yelled, suddenly slipping in the mud. He tried to scramble to his feet, but lost precious seconds slip-sliding. Jane doubled back to pull him upright.
The towering angry goon was almost upon them. He glared at Jane with so much hatred she was convinced he wanted to tear her apart with his bare hands. She hauled Robbie up, but they had nowhere to go. Their escape plan had been foiled.
The Congolese man reached for her neck with a massive hand. Then his eyes suddenly bulged, anger turning to pain as he reeled backward with an arrow in his shoulder. A further volley of arrows flew overhead, forcing the remaining guard to change direction and run to the bulldozer for cover. Archie and the gun-toting guard quickly gave up their struggle and crawled toward the safety of the wrecked canteen to avoid the rain of arrows that peppered the ground. Baxter cowered, his arms over his head as he whimpered. The arrows landed around them, but none hit. Not due to bad marksmanship, but intention.
Jane and Robbie spun around to see a pygmy warrior, dressed in plain, traditional loincloth and with bow in hand, wave them nearer. It was the same warrior who had stalked them through the jungle and stolen their provisions. How he had found them again was anybody’s guess, but right now, the pygmies looked like a more pleasant option than the mining camp.
Jane hauled Robbie fully to his feet and they raced into the jungle, circled as they ran by a dozen armed pygmies.
10
Keeping pace with the pygmies was tough work and sweat was soon pouring from Jane and Robbie as they crashed through the foliage. The pygmies’ diminutive size was an asset in the jungle; they seldom had to duck under the low boughs and they never made a sound as they passed. Their camouflage was so perfect that Jane couldn’t tell how many of the warriors escorted them; they were mere flickers of movement in the foliage, just enough to guide them onward.
The pygmies must have sensed their wards were tiring because the leader stopped in a clearing with a silver stream running through it, cascading down from a small waterfall. Robbie thrust his head in the water to cool off and drink heavily. Jane splashed the water across her face and took a moment to catch her breath. Then she looked at the pygmy leader. He stood several yards away, watching her with a curious expression.
“I know you don’t understand me,” she said. “But thank you for helping us.” She hoped their intentions were good as she couldn’t quite shake Greystoke’s tales of cannibalistic tribes deep in the jungle.
The pygmy cocked his head back, his eyes always on Jane, and spoke to somebody in the trees. Jane heard the reply, but could see nobody. Then the leader stepped forward and pulled some strips of dried meat from a pouch at his waist. He offered them to Jane.
“Eat.” The word sounded clumsy in his mouth.
Jane took the strips, and handed one to Robbie. He sniffed at it suspiciously, but Jane tore a strip off and chewed, not wanting to offend their new friends.
“You speak English?”
The pygmy smiled and nodded, clearly pleased with his linguistic skills. “Some. It is wise to learn the language of your enemy.”
Jane glanced at Robbie, determined to
show no fear, as Werper’s stories played out in her imagination. “We’re not your enemies.”
“No. Greystoke is the enemy. He threw my people from our own lands and will not let us return.”
“Then Greystoke is our mutual enemy,” said Robbie who had risked nibbling a corner of the dried meat and was satisfied with the taste. He extended his hand. “My name’s Robbie. This is Jane,” he said nodding to Jane.
“I am Orando,” the pygmy said. He fixed his gaze back on Jane. “And you are a forest goddess?”
Robbie spluttered with laugher and shook Jane’s shoulder. “Her? Ha! I never heard that one before.” He jerked his thumb at Orando and continued laughing as he spoke to Jane. “This little guy thinks you’re awesome.”
Jane felt her cheeks flush and she couldn’t match Orando’s intense gaze. “I don’t know about that,” she mumbled.
Orando pointed a pair of fingers at his own eyes. “I have seen. You tamed Numa. Only a god has such power.”
Now Jane understood. “Oh, Numa … No, I’ve encountered him before… .” She trailed off, suddenly realizing he had used Tarzan’s word. “Where did you hear the name ‘Numa’ before?”
“That’s the Lion God’s name,” he said simply.
“I’ve only heard Tarzan use that name before. Do you know him?”
Orando didn’t seem surprised that Jane had mentioned Tarzan. “Tarzan is Munango-Keewati, the Jungle God.”
Hundreds of questions now buzzed around Jane’s head. Tarzan had said he’d only ever encountered a few people before. Had the pygmies helped raise him? That would account for a number of the ape-man’s impressive survival skills. But the most pressing question made it to her lips.
“Where is Tarzan? We have to find him. He’s in great danger.”
• • •
Clark had given vague directions the expedition could follow as they set out. He trailed at the back of the party, his progress still hampered by his injured leg, but he refused to mention the pain shooting through it, instead relying on the wooden stick Mr. David had carved for him. Greystoke kept close, recognizing Clark’s difficulty and lending him a hand whenever he could. Clark couldn’t decide if it was a genuine act of kindness, or just that Greystoke didn’t want anything to happen to him before they found Opar. Idra was always at the back, a hunting rifle over her shoulder. Conversation was kept to a minimum as they focused on the steps ahead.