by WW Mortensen
• • •
Again, these thoughts were at a subconscious level and formed in an instant. The aspects of Rebecca’s brain devoted to logic and science—driven and skewed by years of entomological study—worked independently. But now, as she hit the water, Rebecca’s conscious thoughts were of one thing only, and that was survival.
Rebecca clawed to the surface and turned in desperation. Through the rain, she saw the Male skitter over the side of the Zodiac, diving into the river after her. In terror, she turned and swam, barely making it two yards before something slid around her waist, dragging her backwards. She struggled, flailing, but he was too strong. Bracing for death, she expected at any moment to be impaled or quartered. She wasn’t prepared for what happened next.
The Male dived, plunging beneath the surface and dragging Rebecca into the depths.
• • •
Chad had climbed from the wheelhouse a mere second after Rebecca disappeared. He hadn’t seen her or the Male. All he noticed was the Zodiac, pressed up against the Tempestade in the raging water. He frowned, wondering how it had gotten there, where the hell it had come from. But he wasn’t the type to look a gift horse in the mouth. He’d just found their ticket out of there.
• • •
Water roared in Rebecca’s ears as the Male dragged her deep beneath the surface. As she sank, her pulse quickened, and her muscles tensed—the familiar signs of an impending panic attack.
God no…not now… please not now…
The Tempestade was wedged tight against the rocks, its lower two thirds entirely underwater. Dragging her with him, the Male thrust up against the vessel, grasping the vertically aligned and fully submerged roof of the wheelhouse with spread legs. He slammed Rebecca against the roof, pinning her there.
Rebecca couldn’t understand. Why would he do that? Why hadn’t he killed her outright? He could simply rip her apart or smash her against the boat until she was dead. Was he trying to drown her?
As these questions charged through her mind, Rebecca became aware of a kind of tightening inside her skull, and she realised the vague, mental intrusion she’d felt in the huge chamber inside the pyramid was happening again, as though something—
—the Male—
—was in there, inside her head, poking around—
—he wants to know what happened to the Female—
—and it wasn’t really a deliberate thought but then out of nowhere she was reminded of those species of spider that could stay submerged for hours, days even, taking oxygen straight from the water like a fish… and then she was struggling with all her might to get away, but it was no good… she could feel the current rushing against her, pressing her against the roof of the Tempestade and swirling all around her like a whirlpool, trying to suck her down, loud in her ears—
Almost out of breath, Rebecca started to fade from consciousness. Oddly, in that instant, her mind cleared, and although she knew she was about to die, she suddenly felt a weight lift—a release—and she calmed, and then she heard her own voice soothing her.
You can let go, Bec.
In one final, almost involuntary attempt to cling to life, she glanced away, resisting, and in the glow of the Male’s body, saw debris littering the water all around her. Vegetation, splinters of timber, bits of—
A massive tree barrelled towards her from upriver, rolling laterally, causing white water to froth about. She watched it with a kind of fascination, knowing that without the strength or means to escape she couldn’t prevent it from crushing her against the roof of the wheelhouse.
It’ll be quick.
As she stared, resigned to her fate and with the blackness of sleep rapidly descending, the tree seemed to snag on something. Then it dislodged and spun, so that its massive base and tangled system of roots faced her, picking up speed in the rushing current, boring head-on through the water.
And it was in that fashion that the giant tree slammed straight into the Tempestade, suddenly and powerfully, spearing into it with an incredibly loud crack and smashing straight through the roof of the wheelhouse like a hot knife through butter.
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The glint had floated into her peripheral vision; a tiny flash of light, gold in colour.
—banish fear and doubt, for remember, the Lord your God is with you wherever you go—
Rebecca had turned, seeking the gleam’s source, but she was sinking into an oily blackness that was somehow coming from within and pushing out through her eyes. Already, she’d given in to it and had stopped struggling—
—fear is based on association—
—but then she’d caught the glint again and had drawn her head around to focus on the cross at the end of the chain around her neck.
You know what to do.
Do it.
• • •
She still held the hunting-knife. She knew where to aim. She struck hard.
These creatures had no muscles to extend their legs—they had an open circulatory system, and their blood didn’t flow through vessels but simply ‘filled’ their body. It was this pressure that extended the legs, and already, she’d seen what had happened when that pressure had been lost—how in death, their legs had drawn up beneath their body…
There hadn’t been time to hack off the limb that held her, but there’d been time to puncture it.
The weak point, she knew, lay in the joint between the armoured plates separating the two major leg segments.
The blow struck home and blood jetted as though a cork had been sprung, staining the water with a dark cloud. The sudden loss of pressure—and the pain-response—was enough to draw the leg back into the body. Fast.
Taking Rebecca with it.
As she went, the massive tree whooshed past her, slamming into the spot she’d been a nanosecond earlier.
Trouble was, she’d created for herself a new problem.
She’d brought herself face to face with the Male.
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Perhaps it was a propane cylinder or a fuel tank that had ruptured. Whatever it was, the effect was devastating.
Moments after the tree crushed the wheelhouse, an explosion ripped up from below—possibly from the engine room—and blew out the bow in a billowing orange starburst.
Flaming shrapnel blasted in all directions, shooting high into the air and sizzling in the rain. At the same time, tendrils of flame scorched across the river, snaking outwards from the burning wreckage like searching tentacles. The Tempestade had obviously been leaking fuel—the fire hot enough to ignite the combustible diesel—and these flames reached high into the night, mocking the downpour from above.
All this came to Rebecca’s eyes as she broke the surface of the river, gasping uncontrollably.
• • •
She was surrounded by flame.
De Sousa’s hunting-knife was no longer in her hand. She’d left it where she’d plunged it: inside the Male’s central left eye.
Everything had happened fast. There was the blur of the wide-open mouth, and the fangs, clear in the luminescence of the Male’s body, rushing in at her. She’d stabbed out in reflex maybe three or four times, and then there was a release and a thrashing of water and the explosion. The next thing she knew, she was back at the surface, heaving frantically for air.
No time to hesitate.
The Male was still alive, somewhere in the water with her, somewhere near.
He’s coming for me.
The surrounding wall of flame towered into the night, its reflection dancing off the river’s mirrored surface. Whimpering, expecting at any moment to be grasped from below, Rebecca selected the wall’s lowest, weakest point and swam for it as fast as she was able.
She reached the spot she’d been aiming for and dove beneath the roaring orange flame. She resurfaced on the other side, wheezing for breath and sucking in huge gulps of air. It was still raining. The Tempestade—all that was left of it—burned behind her.
The Male hadn’t yet come for her.
She didn’t pause for long. She set her sights now on the riverbank, a short distance away, and started swimming.
Which was precisely when she felt a hand on her shoulder, pulling her back.
• • •
“Bec!”
More hands, all of them reaching down, and voices both male and female. “What the hell happened? We didn’t know where you were! Are you okay?”
Rebecca looked up and saw Ed and Chad leaning over the side of the Zodiac. Both men grabbed hold of her collar and heaved her upwards. Rebecca kicked hard with her legs, desperate to get out of the water.
“He’s still alive…” she said, spluttering.
“Who’s still alive, Bec?” Ed said. “What are you talking about?”
A loud splash echoed across the water, the sound of something huge breaking the river’s surface.
Rebecca slid fully into the boat and rolled to look over at the Tempestade. The vessel’s bow still stuck out of the water, a blackened skeleton engulfed in flame. But the blaze on the river had already begun to die, and beyond it, she could see him.
The Male.
Thrashing at the surface, he appeared to be pinned from below—perhaps by the tree that had blasted through the roof of the wheelhouse. In any case, he’d dragged himself topside and was now lashing about, trying to break free, his long, flailing legs black silhouettes against the flames.
“He’s getting loose…” Rebecca breathed. She turned desperately to Chad, who was gazing at the gutted remains of his boat. He held an object in his hands.
Chad raised the RPG-7 and squinted down its length. “Insurance job anyway,” he murmured sadly.
Not that he was getting sentimental.
Chad jammed down on the trigger.
• • •
Rebecca had a gut feeling this was the weapon De Sousa had used to down the Black Hawk. It must have been in the Zodiac all along, stashed somewhere in the stern.
With a whoosh, the rocket screamed downriver, no more than two or three feet above the surface, trailing a finger of white.
Unerringly, it cut through the dancing flames—
—and careened into the Male and the burning hull of the Tempestade, blowing both to smithereens.
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Seconds after tumbling from the Zodiac and hitting the water, De Sousa had been pulled into the river’s depths by the raging current. At its mercy, he was tossed viciously about, end over end. By the time he clawed himself back to the surface, gasping for air, he was already through the bottleneck and into calmer waters downstream.
De Sousa treaded water, taking a moment to get his bearings and catch his breath. By the looks of it, he’d passed around a narrow bend. He couldn’t see the Zodiac behind him—just darkness. Rain sprinkled the river.
He weighed his options. As he did, a tingling numbness in his temple came to his attention and he put a hand to it. Blood dripped from his fingers. He thought about caiman and made for the nearest bank.
He saw the spider—one of those jumping ones—come around the bend upriver, skittering across the water towards him.
What the…
De Sousa had seen regular-sized tarantulas walk on water, escaping floodwaters. But this? He turned and swam hard for the bank, the spider racing after him. He could hear it behind him, gaining fast. Realising he wasn’t going to outpace it, he spun towards it. The creature was closer than he thought, and as it darted towards him, its front legs lifted in a threat-pose, venom glistening at the tips of its fangs…
Shit!
De Sousa raised his hands, opened his mouth to scream—
Water exploded all around him.
Something large and powerful burst out of the river between him and the spider. In an instant, his field of vision filled with a huge set of jaws and pallid triangular teeth… then a flash of gunmetal grey hide as an immense body rolled out of the water in front of him. The thing was huge. Water thrashed ferociously. There was a fin, then a flick of a tail, and then suddenly—
Nothing.
The water settled.
The thing was gone.
Even better…
So too was the spider.
Treading water, De Sousa spun about. Rain fell around him. The spider was nowhere to be seen. He grinned.
No… fucking… way! Of all things, a shark! It was too good to be true. He knew bull sharks lived in the river—and this one had saved him.
He hooted, laughing out loud, delirious with excitement. Summoning his strength, he made for the riverbank with a wide smile.
He was still shaking his head in disbelief when suddenly, halfway to the bank, he felt something beneath the surface brush against him. Not a full second passed and it came again, harder this time, jerking him down. He felt no pain, just a heavy tugging sensation, and he was drawn underwater before there was a release and he was back topside again, gasping for air.
He had to get out of the water.
He turned for the riverbank and swam hard, trying to stay calm. But something was wrong: his arms worked vigorously, but his legs weren’t responding as they should. He couldn’t understand. He flailed, splashing, but he couldn’t move fast enough, couldn’t get away.
In front of him, the water swirled like a mini-whirlpool, and he stopped thrashing as the bull shark burst out of the river. Time paused. The shark seemed to hang there, jaws wide, and strangely, there was something in its mouth, something long and ragged, covered in cloth and splashed in red, but it didn’t make sense—he knew the shape but couldn’t fathom how it could be. Then as he watched, feeling a strange detachment, the shark raised its head, opening its jaws wider, muscular body rippling above the water—
—and jerked its head backwards, swallowing the leg whole.
Time sped up again and the shark disappeared with a splash.
Not a moment later, De Sousa felt a runaway train slam into him from the side, under the water.
The jaws of the second shark clamped hard across his chest. The massive fish pulled him beneath the surface, the pressure of the bite squeezing the breath from his lungs. He grabbed at the mouth and tried to wrest it apart. The jaws were huge, engulfing him from waist to chin. Frothing water swirled dark before his eyes. Still he wrestled, punching the shark in the snout, but he could summon no power behind his fist. Churning water roared in his ears, and he thought his eardrums would burst. His strength faded, and he saw stars.
De Sousa knew the shark wouldn’t let go.
He knew he would not escape.
He let out a watery scream—
—as his attacker was joined by at least two more sharks, attracted by the commotion.
Insatiable, they rolled and twisted in the blood-bathed water, tearing De Sousa’s body limb from limb.
117
Morning.
All was still and calm on the river. It had stopped raining.
The Zodiac drifted quietly downstream. Exhausted, Rebecca glanced at the surrounding jungle. The sun was climbing, dressing the tops of the trees in red, and within their still-darkened lower branches birds and monkeys rose from their slumber in untold, unseen numbers, squawking and chattering abundantly. It was like music to her ears.
The rocket had done its job; the Male was no more. Neither, for that matter, was the Tempestade. Following the explosion, the only remains of either had been the odd piece of floating debris, still smoking and burning. Not that Rebecca and the others had hung around. They’d long-since drifted through the bottleneck to leave the devastation behind. The Male’s attack on the Zodiac had destroyed both motors, but they had the oars. It was slow going, but Rebecca was unworried. They were safe at last.
She’d told the others what had happened to her, how De Sousa had kidnapped her from the Tempestade, and their ensuing struggle. Judging by the horrified stares of her companions as her wounds were tended, she figured she must have looked terrible. For sure, he’d given her a beating, but she was strong—much stronger than she thought. S
he’d survived. As for De Sousa, she had no idea what had happened once he’d fallen overboard. But he didn’t bear thinking about anymore. In her heart, she knew he was gone for good.
Rebecca was sitting up the front, with Ed beside her and Jessy in turn beside him. Hugging Priscilla close, Rebecca said, “You know, it was him back in the nest, in the huge chamber above the funnel.”
Both Ed and Jessy looked up. “Sorry?” Ed said.
“The Male,” Rebecca replied, but she was talking more to herself than anything. “At the top of the dome—I saw something hanging from the ceiling: huge, luminous, at the centre of the ball of spiders. I thought it had been the Female. But it was him. She’d been up in the nuptial chamber all along.” She looked at Ed. “They knew we were there, probably from the moment we entered the nest. I think they lured us, maybe using a chemical attractant, a pheromone, to drive us up to the nuptial chamber and the Female. I’m sure that’s what they used to attract Priscilla, and Enrique, to that trapdoor. Of course, it may have been something more than that, too… a couple of times, I could swear they were… inside my head.”
For a long while there was silence. Eventually Jessy spoke. “One thing I don’t get,” she said. “When the Tempestade was sinking, we were swamped by jumpers, all trying desperately to get at us. Then just like that, they were gone. What happened to them?”
Rebecca shrugged. “They were dismissed, most likely. The Male wanted you to himself. Being the alpha, he… gets to eat first.”
Jessy shivered. “But where’d they go?”
“Not far—the surrounding jungle, I imagine. Lucky for us, our escape downstream went unnoticed.”
Suddenly a low, droning whir came from behind them, upriver. It sounded out of place in the still morning air. Turning, Rebecca saw another Zodiac approaching with two passengers on board.
You’ve got to be kidding.
It was Owen and Sanchez.
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